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THK

FOREIGN BIBLICAL LIBRARY

EDITED liV i UK

REV. vv. ROBERTSON NICOLL. M.A.,

Editor oj the ' Expositor:'

- Jt

ROTHE^S STILL HOURS.

TORONTO:

S. R. BRIGGS.

TORONTO Vai LARD TRACT DEPOSITORV AXD

IJIIiLE DEPOT,

Corner of Vonge and Temi-euance Streets.

STILL HOURS.

»Y

RICHARD ROTHE.

TRANSLATED BY JANE T. STODDART.

mTH AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAV BY THE

REV. JOHN iMACPHERSON, M.A.

TORONTO:

S. R. BRIGGS,

TORONTO WILLARD TRACT DEPOSITORY AND

IJII3LE DEPOT,

Corner or Vo.nce and Tempera.nce Strrets

CONTENTS.

Introductory Essay

I^-H ExPKR,..c.s . ': PERSONAL.
Self-Criticism

PosVnr.vT.?""'''""'-^"^ -" ^"^ CHURCH

J osiTioN IN Reference to the Present
Relation to the Parties of the Da^ * '
Tolerance and Criticism . . *

n. THE PRINCIPLES OF SPECULA r
The Task of Speculation
Fundamental Principles of* Speculahon " '
Speculative System .

ION.

T„. IT "^- ^^ GOD.

The Existence of God

The Unity of God
The Absoluteness of God
The Infinitude of God
The Immutability of God .
Separate Divine Attributes
Pantheism and Materialism

• IV. GOD AND THE WORLD

Creation of the World

Preservation of the World

Anuels and Devils

The Supersensual World '.

Space and Time

Spirit . . ' ' '

Creation of the Human Spirit
Life (Light) .

Man and Mankind
Man and Animal ,

V. ON MAN.

I'AOK

45
46

SI
56
59

73
81

91
93

100

102

108

'•3
123

126

127

128

^33
136
144

»47
150

CONTENTS.

Soul and Body

Tersonalitv . . . .

Affection and Temperamen

Memory ....

Guts of Mind

Great and Small .

Strength and Weakness

Conscience
The Will
Freedom
Temptation ,
Sin ....
Good and Evil
Selfishness .
Pleasure-Seeking .
Passion .
Vanity .
Coarseness
Folly
Jesuitism

PAGE

«59
164
168
171
>73
«74

'75

176
178
184

'85
189
192
»93

«93
194

194

VI. ON CHRISt.

^.— CHRISTOLOGY.

Biblical Dkductions

Idea of the Logos .... * '^

Church Doctrine ..!.]'*' *°'
The Personality of Christ . . \ ' ' ^^^

The Vocation of Jesus .... ^°^

Personal Character of Jesus ' ' ' * • ^'°

God and Christ ... ^"

216

^.-SOTERIOLOGY.
Revelation ....

The Bible ■ - \ . \ , ' ' ' ' *\

Faith in Christ . . . .' *

Unbelief ••...,' "o

Reconciliation •■...." ^^o

Predestination '....,''

Substitution ....'.'**' *^^

Justification ...... '' ^^^

Sanctification ■....*'" ^^^

Reward ... *^^

234

CONTEA'TS.

VII. THE PERSONAL LIFE OF THE

Good, Virtue, Duty

Individual and Social Morahiv

Union of God and Man

Union of Man and God

Prayer ....

IJelief in God's Providenc

The Worth of Life

Vocation i.\ Life

Work

Humility

Self-Restraint

Independence

Dignity .

Happiness

Suffering

Maturity

Old Age .

Death . .

Continuation of Life after Death

VIIL THE SOCIAL LIFE OF
The Social Sphere
Social Duties
Intercourse .
Sociability .
Love
Man and Woman

IX. ON CHURC

The Apostolic Age

St. John . .

St. Paul
Judaism .

Heathenism .

Mohammedanism

Catholicism .

Catholicism and

Catholicism and .

The Reformation .

Protestantism

The Reformation and 'ths Church

Protestantism
the State

CHRISTIAN.

PAGB

341

244
246
249
251

255
256

257
258
261
263
263
267
267
269
271

THE CHRISTIAN.

I HISTORY.

277
281

281
284
286
289

295
296
296
301
301
302
302
304
306

307
308
310

CONTEZ/TS.

EKORMED Churches

The Lutheran and the R
Union

Pietism ....
Mysticism and Thi-osoi'hy
Fanaticism
Rationalism .
Supernaturalism .
schleiermacher .

* r^ X. ON POLITICS

Church and State

Prince and People

Authority

Ranks of the Community

Political Freedom

Formation of Parties .

Popular Represeniation

Absolutism

Republics

Revolution

Germany

North and South German

Europe .

France .

Russia .

QUESTIONS OF CULTURE.

History .
Culture .
Science .
Art .

Literature
Criticism
Pedagogy

XFL CHRISTIANITV AND THE CHURCH
The Church . '^^'^-y^n.

Piety

The Clergy ,

Worship .

The Sacraments

Dogma ....

Theological and Secular Science

Christianity outside the Church

PAr.E

3'7
318

320

321

323
328

331

ii^

340

344

345

347

348

349

350

351

353

354

357

360

363
365
368

369
370

375
385
393
395
399
401

403

407

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

The name of Rothe is not by any means familiar
to the English reader, but it may be confidently
expected that the translation of the volume which
IS now presented will most favourably introduce that
name to the notice of the cultured and thoughtful
as that of one to whom high rank among his own
countrymen as a thinker and scholar has been most
deservedly accorded. The sententious utterances
which constitute the work before us reveal at once
the man of deeply disciplined Christian character
and of profound and thoroughly matured scholarship'
In one respect such a collection of sayings on a wide
range of subjects forms a fitting introduction to the
study of the life-work of one who devoted all his
powers to the elucidation of many of those themes
to which passing reference is made ; but, in another
respect, it presupposes a certain acquaintance with
the author's intellectual characteristics and theological
position, without which many of the summary re-
marks and terse criticisms could not be fully appre-
ciatea.

The principal source for information regarding
e l.fe and scientific development of our author is

the

V '

STILL HOURS.

Bern rT ^ constructed by Professor Nippold, of

extell y' °" '"^"'^ '■™"' '^°«'e's own

lork r.'"f '"f""^"'' correspondence. This large
wok of twelve hundred pages sets forth, according
to .ts prom.se, a most vivid picture of the Christian

man and from its stores we shall freely draw the
ma er^ specially required for our present purpose

RoL !•/ °"' ^^° ^"" '"■'"=="• completely, as
Rothe d,d, to realize the vocation of the scholar

must necessarily be uneventful as concerns the r^

of the outward hfe and movement; but as a study

of moral and spiritual development, as yielding the

d? .1 ''T '"' °' "^^ ""■"-">'. -here, side by
s-de w.th abstract speculation, we find tL mos^
gen,al and mtense display of warm human affections

s.derat.on It will be the object of this short sketch
to set before the reader what it seems desirable t^at
he hould know regarding the author, in order to the
better understanding of the point and purpose of his
statements and criticisms of previous and con em
Porary systems and modes of thought

• rStti'"*' "" '"" °" "'^' 3°«> January,
1799. m Posen, a cty of Prussian Poland, where h^

was soon after c"Cd l^"^^^ ^^
later to Breslau in Silesia, with which Roth's

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

youthful days are specially associated. His mother
belonged to a family which had long occupied dis-
tinguished positions in the public services, and was
herself a woman of high mental endowment and rich
. Christian experience. The days in which they lived
were unsettled, and a vigorous effort was being made
to reduce the administration of the several provinces
of the kingdom under one gene ' system. The
duty of the elder Rothe in his office at Breslau was
to arrange and determine the incidence of taxation
for the province, and generally to superintend the
assessment and collection of the revenue. His know-
ledge of principles and details seems to have been
very remarkable, and his official fidelity and energy
called forth, on several occasions, special recognition
and gratifying marks of the approval of distinguished
statesmen. Alongside of intellectual capacity of an
unusually high order on the part of both parents we
find the most attractive and beautiful domestic quali-
ties. In such a home, presided over by those whose
virtues commanded at once respect and love, Richard
Rothe was from his earliest years surrounded by
influences which powerfully contributed to mould that
character which, in so remarkable a degree, awakened
in all who knew him sentiments of high esteem and
warm affection.

Having passed through the usual course at the
Reformed Frederick Gymnasium in Breslau. he was
ready to enter upon his university course. He was
now in the eighteenth year of hi. age. Religious

had Till " ""." P"""^^' ="•" -"•^■. q"-«o„.
had already occupied much of his attention • con

eagerly l.stened to, and discussions among his
tr'hrr;" «>«"'- "^-h occupied their parent
thoughts had been heartily and intelligently shared
n by young Rothe. Preparation for'conl^a'n

ittitudT t3;"a:rard '°7''' ''" ''"--

essent,a„y consists in direct personal fellowshrpri h
t-od. The key-note was thus struck in his earlv
years wh.ch sounds through his entire religi^us"^"
The tendency to depreciate carefully formulated
dogmas, „hich was so marked a characListirof ht
. nt.fic attitude as a theologian, appears in h s
eari,es expressions of religious experience, alongside
of an mtense realisation of the power and comfort
of prayer .„ the name of Jesus, to which, amid aU h

recttd t h° ■"' T°' °' "''^ '"'■ '^""'^ "as
11 r •'°'"'"'' '" ^ '^"^••acteristic way the

ead,ng Matures of his spiritual experience. «
ad found my Lord and Redeemer," he says
wthout the help of any human teacher, and inX'
pendently of any traditional ascetic method hlwnl
been mwardly drawn towards Him, at a very early

under the pressure of a gradually deepening feeling

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

Of a personal, as well as a universal human need.
But It never occurred to me that there must be any-
thmg of a traditional and statutory, or generally of
a conventional character, in the Christian doctrine of
faith and in the Christian construction of man's life
In short, my Christianity was of a very modern sort •
It fearlessly kept itself open on every side, wherever
m all God's wide world it might receive influences
in a truly human way."

This liberal or doctrinally lax tendency was
greatly fostered by the course of reading from the
works of modern German writers, which at this
period he diligently prosecuted. Schiller, Goethe
Richter, Schlegel, Tieck, and Fouqu^ were his'
favourite poets ; and the mystical, pious sayings
of Novahs exercised over him, as we might well
expect, a wonderful fascination. In later years he
cherished this love for the writings of Novalis
and over a hundred of the extracts forming the'
texts for the remarks which constitute the "Still
Hours" are taken from the works of this gentle
religious poet and dreamer. The heart of Rothe
entwined itself around the verities of the Christian
faith, especially around all that is most essential and
characteristic in the life of Jesus. This warm, per-
sonal piety was always a marked feature in Rothe's
life. Christianity was with him something essentially
supernatural, and the superficial rationalism of the
age could never have any attraction for him.
After a short time spent in travel along with a

'ii

•4

STILL HOURS.

school companion. Rothe, now in liis eigliteenth
year entered the University of Heidelberg. This
celebrated seat of learning had recently undergone
a thorough reorganization, and though it had not
yet qu,te recovered from the loss of such men as
^ rarhemeke. De Wette, and Neander, who had been

Ber if?. '° *' """"^ """"""^^ University of
Berl n, there were still among its professors men

whose character and learning alike placed them in
the first rank as teachers of youth

RoThrr^^'f"'"' """ "'°=' P°'verfully influenced
Rothe durmg h,s student years, and in such a way as

to affec and la.gely determine his whole subsequent

course m life were Daub and Abegg. The Lm

of the former ,s st.ll well known to every student of

German heology, and though the name of the latter

is scarcely remembered at all, we shall find that

to Rothes moral and spiritual development. Daub
was then at the summit of his illustrious career, and
as a speculative theologian, under the influence
success,vely of Schelling's and of Hegel's ph lo

Ch nstiamty to the cultured and scientific by pre-
senmg ,t „„d„ the forms demanded by current
systems of philosophy. There was one"^ side ^

should ha" "^ '''■"""'^'' "'^' -"S"- «™th

vi h the r?""'°" ^'■"" ■■' '" ^'-'-cordance

Tndin n K° "^"'r ■•^<1"'^="'^"'3 of science;

and in Daubs speculative presentation of Christian

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

truth Rothe foun7his scx^rm^'^^^^^^^^^^^^^
factorily met. Abegg, on the other hand, was a
profoundly spiritual man, who devoted all his powers
to the building up of the moral and spiritual char-
acter of the young men around, and who seemed in
an altogether remarkable manner, to have succeeded
in infusing his own moral earnestness and intense
spirituality into the noblest of the students, who with
rare affection and reverence seated themselves at his
feet. Such a teacher early won a ruling influence
over Rothe. whose sensitive religious nature and
genmne piety craved for that spiritual nourishment
which Abegg knew how to impart in so stimulating
and winning a way.

"Daub is a man," says Rothe, in a letter to his
father, written during his first session, "of whom
not only Heidelberg, but our whole German father'
land should be proud. I have no hesitation in
saying that he is the first of all living academical
teachers and the first of all men. The enthusiasm
with which he is here regarded is universal. . .
I have never heard any one who can say so much in
few words." It was Rothe's privilege to be received
by this great thinker in familiar social intercourse
and his letters are full of enthusiastic references
to the scientific stimulus which he gains from the

^^tw'"""t"'^''' lectures and his conversations
with him in his own home.

At this time Daub's great work. "Judas Iscariot"
appeared, in which the entire speculative system was

.1 !

STILL HOURS.

unfolded in the elaborate treatment which it gave
to the doctrine of human sin. The attempt made
»n^ this work to recommend Christianity to men of
science by expressing religious ideas in terms of
philosophical ideas did not meet with the approval
of his young scholar and enthusiastic admirer In
a letter written in July, 1818. Rothe maintains that
such philosophising does not present the essential
element in theology. On the contrary, he holds
that theology is concerned with the purely positive
and historical development and exposition of dogma
especially of the two fundamental doctrines of Chris-
tianity, the divinity or Divine sonship of Jesus Christ
and the redemption of man by Him,-these two'
doctrines being again reducible to the doctrine of
the Trinity. His attitude towards Daub's system
was not that of one who gave it anything like an
unqualified acceptance. Writing toward the close of
that same year, he expresses his dissatisfaction with the
over-elaborateness and speculative subtilty of Daub's
theology, and yearns, with all the longing of an
earnest, religious nature, after the simplicity that is in
the doctrine of Christ Jesus. While then there was
much in the teaching and influence of the specula-
tive theologian that powerfully and permanently im-
pressed the ardent and inquisitive j^oung student, we
find m Rothe no tendency to a onesided satisfaction
with that which afforded delightful exercise to hi.
intellectual nature, while it left the emotional and reli-
gious side of his being unsupplied and unnourished

i:^TRODUCTORY ESSAY.

'7
It was the singular good fortune of Rothe to ha^
in another of his revered teachers one who could in
the most admirable way both satisfy and stimulate
all his religious and spiritual aspirations. Rothe's
admiration and affection for the devout and emi
nently pious Abegg receive unequivocal and un-
restrained expression in his letters. "Abegg" he
says in a letter of that period, " is a true man
according to the truth as it is in Christ, a man in
whom Christ is formed, as the Scripture says, who
IS penetrated through and through with all that
is most fundamental in Christianity, who can look
on nothing but with Christian eyes. . . . Hence
Abegg is a most distinguished and excellent man
who is here revered as almost an angel ; and he is'
a man of extraordinary philological, and especially
bibhco- philological, acquirements, who above all
stands where he stands as a man, and never loses
his rank as a true and genuine character" This
admirable and venerable man taught chiefly New
lestament exegesis, and we find Rothe attending his
lectures on Romans, on Philippians, on Corinthians.
These lectures were so appreciated, that numbers of
theologians, whose course at college had been com-
pleted, were accustomc. to come into the city as
opportunity was afforded, simply that they might be
present as listeners to those thoughtful and sugges-
tive expositions of Scripture. Quite as important
in the spiritual development of Rothe were the
sermons which Abegg delivered regularly in one of

STILL HOURS.

I ,'

the city churches. He describes these sermons as
bearing no trace of art, being simple expositions of
short Bible texts. They had no formal divisions,
but the truth was unfolded according to a natural
sequence ; they were full of references to practical
Christian experience and of earnest appeal free from
all affectation. They were delivered without any
manuscript being used, and indeed were never
written but carefully thought out. Under two such
men, both of tl em men of undoubted personal piety,
but in the one the speculative and systematic, in
the other, the practical and expository treatment
of religious and scriptural truth, receiving special
development, the theological students of Heidelberg
of that period must be regarded as having been
favoured in no ordinary degree.

Rothe's college course at Heidelberg was fruitful in
many ways, at once in the discipline of his mental
powers, and in the formation of character. Here he
gained an insight into problems that were to occupy
his attention all through life, and here he had those
truth-loving principles established which contributed
so largely to secure for him a distinctive position and
to give to all his work such an air of freshness and
originality. His residence at Heidelberg was brought
to a close about the middle of the year 1819. Before
quitting the university, Rothe prepared and delivered
his first sermon. The preparation of this discourse
seems to have given him much anxious concern. He
wrote in full detail to his father in reference to the text

INmODUCTORY ESSAY.

19
whichhe had selected and ^^^^^Z^^^i^^^^^^^^^^^^^
.n reference .0 his experiences on the occasion of
.ts dehver,-. The text chosen was 2 Peter i. .-„.
After a short introduction he divided his discourse
mto two parts : he treated, first, of the grace and
benefits wh.ch God has given us in Christ ; and second

of the redeemed. He hoped in this way, he tells us,
o be able to show what is specifically Christian in
the rel^,on of the Christian, so that his first sermon
m,ght be an mtroduction to all sermons that he might
afterwards preach. ^

Very characteristic is the description which Rothe

ThToT r"T"°" ""■'= ""-««"g occasion.
The place chosen fo. his first pulpit effort was a

sma. vmage, called Maue, a few miles distant from

s^uC^-.. T '"' '^"'" °f °"= °f his fellow
pas or and """"^ '^ "^^ ^^^^^''^ -"■»«e, was

out on Tl\ T"""^ "'"^ "'^ f"^"" he walked
out on the Saturday evening to the quiet parsonage.
The greetmg given him on his arrival proved to
Rothes sensitive and loving nature the very be^

S h ""«"/" "-^ """^ °f 'he coming
Sabbath. The worthy pastor and his wife received

genuine kmdhness as immediately won his heart
The. very appearance reminded him of a much-'
loved uncle and aunt; and the manner in whkh he

of the,r fam.ly made him at once feci as if he were

- 1

ST/Ll HOUHS.

among old and well tried friends. When on Sabbath
morning he entered the church, that shyness which
was natural to him, and often caused discomfort and
uneasiness, had completely vanished, and he advanced
without any tremor or agitation to the conspicuous
isolation of the pulpit. His position was not made
any easier by the presence of seven of his fellow
students, who walked out that morning from Heidel-
berg to hear him preach.

His own personal experience through the service
was most' delightful. He found no difficulty in
making himself heard, and he had the satisfaction of
observing that he had completely secured the atten-
tion of his audience. This first hour spent by him
in the pulpit was one of the pleasantest he had ever
known. "I was thoroughly impressed," he says,
" with the idea that I was now for the first time in
my own proper element, and that I had now found
my true life work." He was so fascinated with the
solemn services which he was called to conduct, that
he declares that it was well for him that he was
obliged to hasten away, as otherwise he might have
been tempted to give himself so constantly to preach-
ing, that his proper studies would have been utterly
neglected. This delight experienced in preaching
did not arise, as we may be very sure from the
character of the man, from any inordinate, vain
conceit of his own qualifications and immediate
success as a preacher. He was much dissatisfied with
the sermon which he had delivered, but not in such

TNTRODUCTOR V £SSA V.

a way as to regret his delivery of it. He carefully
noted its faults, that he might avoid them in future
He saw that only long and careful practice would
enable h.m truly and faithfully to represent in words
the life which lives in us, and to this task he resolved
seriously and diligently to apply himself

After a brief but thoroughly enjoyable and profitable

holiday, spent in travel in Switzerland and southern

Germany, along with a congenial companion, we find

Rothe entered as a student for the winter session at

the University of Berlin. His proper college course

having been finished at Heidelberg, he intended by

his residence at Berlin to take advantage, not only of

the classes of the university, but also of all oppor-

tunities for culture which the learned society of the

city at that time so abundantly afforded.

Of the theological professors with whom Rothe
came into contact, undoubtedly Schleiermacher and
Neander most powerfully and materially influenced
his views, and aided in the formation and development
of his scientific opinions. He attended faithfully the
classes of Neander on Church history and on the
history of dogmas. He found him a hard-working
professor, who made his students work; and he
amusingly complains that his fingers ached with the
amount of matter which he was obliged to take down
from his lectures, though he heartily admits that he
always found the quality to be quite proportionate
to the quantity. He speaks with enthusiasm of the
noble character of Neander's Christian life, and evi-

STILL HOURS.

denfly a deep impression was made by the saintliness
and purity of tlie professor's walk and conversation.
Rothe however calls attention to a certain melan-
choly and dejected air about him that detracted
somewhat from the general beauty and attractiveness
of his character, and did much to interfere with his
success among the youths who gathered around him.
The longer he associated with Ncander, the more
thoroui^hly he respected him, and came to see in him
rich fountains of spiritual life.

Rothe also attended the lectures of Schleiermacher
on the life of Jesus. These V found extremely in-
terestmg and in many ways suggestive. He complains
however that they were critical rather than historical
and that the net positive result from them was not
great. As a preacher Schleiermacher had a great
reputation and exerted a powerful influence. Ac
cordingly Rothe regularly attended his preaching
not without profit, although all the while keenly alive
to certain serious deficiencies both in the matter and
in the method of these discourses. He compared
them with those of Abegg, from which he had reared
such advantage in Heidelberg. Those of ^c^^^,.
macher lacked the spirituality so characteristic of
the sermons of the Heidelberg preacher. They were
ust^l and instructive expositions of Scripture pas-
sage approached however rather from without than
fron:

\v.\.u,

P°» tJie whole, his experiences of
Berlin, scc-.^tv were un^v-oiirable, and during the two
sess,cr,-> sp.nt there he often compared the habits

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

of life in this city and university very unfavourably
with those of Heidelberg-

While resident in Berlin, Rothe met with and was
powerfully influenced by some of the more promi-
nent leaders of the Pietist party. There was one side
of his nature readily and easily affected by such con-
templative and purely devotional modes of thought,
and soon repelled by anything that bore an aspect of
cold and formal externalism or of rigid and dogmatic
ecclesiasticism. In Berlin he frequented the society
of the devout, many of whom, impatiently demand-
ing greater earnestness and purity of life than the
Church could show, had withdrawn from Church
communion, and gathered together in meetings for
spiritual edification and devotional reading of Scrip-
ture. The unsatisfactory condition of the Lutheran
Church of that period— the prevailing worldliness of
its members, and the generally low tone of spiritual
life within its pale— had driven many of the noblest
and saintliest of men to join the separatists, and
actively to promote the interests of what was perhaps
not a non-sectarian, but at least a non-ecclesiastical
form of Christianity.

In the Pietism of that time there was much to
attract one of so devout and deeply religious a nature
as Rothe. It was as yet a genuinely healthy move-
ment, which was largely felt, and proved mightily
influential upon some of the young contemporaries
of Rothe, who were destined afterwards to rank
among the most distinguished ornaments of the

STILL HOURS.

.'I

Church. Tholuck, Thomasius, and Stier may be
named as illustrations of the noble fruit of the much-
needed protest against the blighting rationalism and
cold, dead orthodoxy that had too long borne sway.
The name Pietist was applied as a term of reproach,
just as Christian was at first, and as Methodist.
Puritan, etc, have been applied in later times. Rothe
employs the term, as most fitly designating those
who had been awakened to a new life of true Chris-
tian faith. Writing in the year 1862. he thus uses the
name, while repudiating that which had then come
to be designated by it. " I know very well," he says,
" what Pietism is. for I have been a Pietist myself
and that in good faith, and at a time when Pietists
did not stand, as now they do, in honour and favour,
as conservative people, but were laughed at. and that
—which is a material element in the case— by those
whose ridicule could not but painfully affect any
tender and feeling heart."

What was genuine and true in Pietism was never
abandoned by Rothe, but by-and-by he became es-
tranged from those who were regarded as leaders of
the movement, because of their narrowness and their
assumption of an exclusive possession of all that was
good. Even while among them Rothe felt repelled
by their want of charity toward those who did not
belong to their party. In the paper from which we
have just quoted. Rothe proceeds to say that Pietism
IS true Christian piety, but not the Christian piety ;
It IS a lorm of Christianity, and indeed such a form'

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

as is, when sincerely and consistently professed, most
honourable and estimable, but yet only one form
among many others, and not necessarily the highest
of all. Rothe found reason to object to Pietism as
a system, not only for its objectionable exclusiveness,
but also on account of its being occupied altogether
with religious and not also with moral interests, and
so developing a purely personal or private form of
Christianity, and overlooking the social elements
and influences in Christianity, which are properly
developed in the organization and ordinances of the
Christian Church. "Hence," he says, "we cannot
conceive of a Pietistic people, though we can con-
ceive of a Christian people." Individualism, in short,
was the bane of Pietism.

Perhaps, after all, we shall best describe the re-
ligious position of Rothe at this period by saying
that he was a man of decided personal piety. The
warmth of his religious nature showed itself freely
under the genial influences by which he was then
more immediately surrounded. A i&ss words from a
letter written to his father from Berlin, during the
session of 1820, will show in a very pleasing way the
simplicity and earnestness of his Christian fViith.
"How often," he says, "does one find a jewel where
least expected ! In one of the very smallest and
least pretentious of churches there is perhaps the
very best preacher in all Berlin, Pastor Lofflcr, with
whom I was first made acquainted by Neander, and
from whom I shall to-morrow, along with Schrutter,

STILL HOURS.

Thielau. and Heege, receive the holy communion.
In view of this I have been wishing that I could
along with you both, my dear parents, examine
myself, and for sins and errors, for which the gracious
t^od has promised me forgiveness, also obtain for-
giveness from you. I fall upon your necks, and
know mdeed that you are not inexorable, and on my
hearty sorrow and repentance from the heart forgive
Pray for me. that to me this bread of everlasting life
may be more blessed than all earthly nourishment.
How wUhngly would I behold this mortal body con-
stantly wasting away into dust and ashes, if only
the immortal soul in its eternal and unchangeable
nature be saved with an everlasting salvation ' "

After two years spent in Berlin, Rothe passed into
the theological seminary of Wittenberg. Here he
entered upon a course of thorough practical training
for the work of the Christian ministry. At the unit
yersity theology had been studied as a science, but
m these seminaries the work is wholly of a homi-
letical and pastoral character, engaged upon in a
purely practical way, in order to equip candidates for
the pastoral office in regard to all the details of their
future parochial duties-as preachers, catechists. and
visitors in the homes of their people. Bible study
IS earnestly and largely prosecuted, sermon plans are
sketched and criticised, discourses are preached to
rustic audiences from pulpits in the surrounding dis-
tricts, listened to by professors and fellow students
both manner and matter being subsequently made

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

— ____^ ^^

subject of discussion. Here Rothe was surrounded
by society of the most delightful description, and the
warm spiritual atmosphere of the place, and the
earnest religious lives of teachers and fellow students
proved stimulating in no ordinary degree. Among
the teachers in the seminary, the one who most
powerfully influenced Rothe was Heubner, a man of
rare force of character, and an earnest and devoted
worker in the Lord's vineyard.

Rothe continued, during his stay at the seminary
to work faithfully in departments to which his atten-
tion had been specially turned in the later years of
his university course. He gave attention to the
scientific exegesis of the text of the Old and New
Testaments, and laid the foundation of subsequent
literary work in this department ; but he devoted
his time and strength most ungrudgingly to historical
investigations, and already had given himself to
elaborate studies in the original sources of our
knowledge of the beginnings of Christianity-a
department which he was destined yet to make so
peculiarly his own. All the while however Rothe
was most conscientiously diligent in his prosecution
of the practical studies and his discharge of proba-
tionary duties, which constituted the special functions
of the seminary. He enthusiastically engaged upon
the work of preaching and catechising, taking part
wherever opportunities were presented, in all the'
different forms and various departments of pastoral

STILL HOURS.

His stay at Wittenberg marks a very important
stage m his spiritual development, in which the
serious impressions made during his residence in
Berlin were greatly deepened, and became produc
tive of rich fruit. Hitherto it could only be said that
Rothe was pietistically inclined, but now he threw
himself heart and soul into the movement. His
fellowship with Stier in the seminary was mainly
instrumental in leading Rothe to give in his adhesion
without reserve to that party, which still continued
to be everywhere spoken against. Rothe and Stier
who were exactly of an age, were powerfully attracted
to one another, although in many respects their dis-
similarities rather than their resemblances would first
arrest attention. They were both ardently attached
to the same evangelical faith, and yearned after
thorough emancipation from the chilling influence of
that dreary ecclesiasticism of orthodox propositions
and verbal formularies, into which no living spirit
was any longer infused. It is with no ordinary en-
thusiasm that Rothe described his friend and enlarged
upon their common sympathies. "Stier" he says
"is a Christian of the old order; a noble mixture, or
rather thorough blending, of the fine scriptural faith
of the sixteenth century and of the deep spiritual
piety of the Spener school." With such a com-
panion he felt in the presence of a true believer who
had strong personal conviction and assurance of the
truth.

His letters written during this period are such as

IN TROD UCTOR Y ESS A V.

ire such as

would satisfy the most ardent and extreme revivalist.
He tells of meetings held, of spiritual blessings be-
stowed ; he quotes fragments of hymns, and bewails
the deadness and formality which he beheld generally
prevalent around. It would have been well for the
movement, and well too for Rothe, had the leaders of
this most desirable and hopeful religious tendency,
with its much-needed protest against pure intel-
lectualism and heartless formalism, been more equally
balanced in the proportion of their intellectual and
emotional faculties. It soon however became only
too evident that there were among them few men,
if any, of Rothe's type ; that while they were un-'
doubtedly good, they were also, for the most part, as
undoubtedly narrow; that they had no comprehension
of or patience with the profounder thought of the
great thinker who was among them ; that the ten-
dency was developing within the party to regard
intelligent reflection as profane, and unreflecting piety
as the most satisfactory proof of the presence of
simple religious faith. Very gradually this diver-
gence between Rothe and the members of the Pietist
party developed, until at last their virtual separation
from one another was mutually recognised. This
estrangement was really most injurious both to
Rothe and to his earlier friends. There is no reason
why piety should assume such forms as to alienate
the intellectual and the rationally inquisitive. For
pious men with intellectual tendencies and capacities
hke those of Rothe's Pietism ought, not grud^inHy

STILL HOURS.

but heartily, to afford the freest scope. Such inves-
ligations, conducted by a man of personal piety
conscious of possessing the confidence of his brethren'
would broaden, in such a way as to strengthen, the
foundations upon which all true religion rests. The
loss to Pietism, in respect of influence on those
around, and of moral and religious power within its
own circle, from the secession of Rothe was very
serious. To himself also this alienation was most
disastrous. Largely sympathetic with their religious
tendencies, yet conscious of being regarded by them
with coldness and suspicion, his scientific investiga-
tions were henceforth pursued without the presence
of those guards and securities which the surroundin-s
of the warm spiritual life of the religious community
would have afforded. Earnest personal piety always
continued a notable feature in Rothe's character • but
more and more, as years rolled on, he found scientific
fellowship among those whose sympathies had never
gone in that direction. This accounts for the strange
and sudden transitions in his writings from fearless
even ruthless, statements of intellectual conclusions'
to warm, hearty breathings of a pure devotional
spirit.

During a residence in Breslau of about six months
as a licentiate, Rothe associated with several Chris-
tian men in their endeavours to promote the interests
of true religion. Here he enjoyed much profitable
intercourse with Steffens and Scheibel. Together
with other likeminded men, they were wont to meet

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

for prayer and devotional reading and exposition of
Scripture. But, while finding rich nourishment for
his spiritual nature in such pious exercises, Rothe
was actively engaged in historical studies upon the
original sources of early Church history, and in
laborious researches into the development of Pau-
Hcianism, Manichaeism, and Priscillianism he was
laying the foundations for his great work on the
" Beginnings of the Christian Church." Already he
was drawing off from some with whom he had been
brought in contact in the revival gatherings which
he frequented. He tells of one, for example, "who,
in his zeal against the natural man, and especially
against the reason, goes so far as to affirm that the
natural man is worse than a beast, and who reaches
the conclusion that the regenerate cannot sin."
Rothe characterizes these positions as dangerous, and
as having a tendency like the doctrine of Gichtel,
an enthusiast and separatist of the school of Bohme!
but much more violent and extreme than his master.
But while repudiating all such views, Rothe very
characteristically concludes by a lamentation over his
own sinfulness.

In the beginning of August, 1823, Rothe received
and accepted from Government the appointment of
preacher to the German embassy at Rome, and on
October 1 2th he was ordained in Berlin. During
the following month he married a young lady in
Wittenberg, whose sisters were married to Heubner
and August Hahn. By this union Rothe was

s:till hours.

brought into close, lifelong connexion with those
^vo able and ini^uential theologians, to who™ h w
largely .ndebted for „uch wise counsel and brotherly
help. Entering upon his work in Rome in the be
g.n„.ng of ,8.4, he found himself surrounded by a
CO gemal socety, and in the discharge of his spiritual
dufes he had great comfort and joy. By youn. men
h.s a„,val was hailed with peculiar delfght, ar^i his
emmently suggestive discourses proved thoroughly

h^ Of I»^ T''^ '-''"' ^^"'"'^ --""'-

who had h ^"'^ '"^' ■■" '^O'"^' Bunsen,

who had been secretary to Niebuhr, the Prussian

vacated by h,s patron's removal, was the one most
powerfully attracted toward the young ^hapTdn
Bunsen and Rothe at once becam.'and^ll thlTh
^fe confnued most attached and loving friends
Not only m the pulpit, but otherwise did Rothe seek

rfn*^::^:":;-ro:°^^="'~""

Tuesday and Frldar:.^ rThrwL^:- -
artist: 'Tr d' "'""," '""'''" y°""^ '^-™ "

posi ,on, he gave a lecture on Church history dealini.
specally with phases of Church life and the or 2
and growth of Church organisation and inst uti: f

Toward the end of the year ,827, after Rothe had
laboured for four years in Rome, he had his fir''
senous dlness, which, in connexion with the r Lv

•^

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

from the city of Bunsen and others of his best friends'
left Rothe in a somewhat unhappy and dissatisfied
condition, inch'ned to take a rather melancholy view
of his position and prospects of further usefulness
in that sphere. Just then through Bunsen came
the offer of a- appointment to a professorship in the
theological seminary of Wittenberg. This invitation
was riost welcome to Rothe, who had always retained
the most tender regard for all friends in the seminary
and the prospect of a return to Wittenberg was all
the more delightful from the fact that his beloved
and valued brother-in-law, Heubner, was already
resident there.

The appointment now given to Rothe was that of
the fourth professorship in the seminary; and his
colleagues there would be Nitzsch and Schleusner.
both old men, over seventy years of age, while the
third professor was his own brother-in-law. Rothe's
special work here would be in the department of
Church history. He would be required to give
lectures on the Church life, and this was understood
by Rothe as a history of Christianity as distinguished
from a history of the Christian Church. The subject
was to him thoroughly congenial, and his previous pre-
parations rendered him well qualified for the task.

Here Rothe made a beginning of his academical
labours, in October, 1828. He was now in his thir-
tieth year, entering upon what was to be his special
life work, with a ripe and varied experience of
men and things, which, along with his thoroughly

3»

STILL HOURS.

competent scholarship and conscientious methods of
study, formed an admirable preparation for his
collegiate labours. In the seminary he at once
began a course of lectures, on which he laboured for
several years, on the constitution and life of the
early Church. Besides lecturing in his chair, he
preached very frequently, and continued the abun-
dant hospitality which he had begun to practise in
Rome, receiving the students to his house in the
evenings, and engaging them there in profitable con-
versation on scientific, artistic, and spiritual themes.
The time too was one of an altogether peculiar
kind. There were students there affected by the
most diverse intellectual and religious influences :
some from the believing schools of Neander and
Schleiermacher, or under the influence of Tholuck
and Hengstenberg : others from the philosophical
school of Hegel and the rationalistic school of
Wegscheider. To all these Rothe proved most use-
ful as a moderating power, though perhaps he seemed
quite satisfactory to none. He had at least sufficient
sympathy with both tendencies to secure the at-
tention and win more or less the confidence of
rationalists and evangelicals.

His labours in Wittenberg continued till 1837, in
which year his first publications were issued. Rothe,
never rash or hasty, was already in his thirty-ninth
year when his first work appeared. This was an
elaborate exegetical monograph on the passage
Romans v. 12-21. He had commenced it in 1828,

'"nODVCTORY ESSAY.

on the appearance of Tholuck's "Cora,^i^r7^
Romans, to whose interpretation of this section
he was strongly opposed In his preface he lays
down sound hermeneutical principles, and reprobates
ch,efly the endeavours made by many to prop up a
preconceived dogmatic theory by the exposition of
Scr-pture texts, repudiating the rationalising exegesis
of Ruckert as heartily as the orthodox exegesfs of
Iholuck. He msists upon warm Christian feeling
and personal religion in the exegete, but at the same
time demands perfect freedom from dogmatic pre-
judice. He also insists that difficulties be boldly
faced that a thorough solution be at least attempted,

though they were complete.

In this same year he published his great epoch-
makmg work on the "Beginnings of the ChrLan
Churh and .ts Constitution." He explains his
object m w„t,ng this work to be to sketch the
course of man's historical development as affected
and determmed by Christianity Of this great
nndertakmg he only published the first part In
the volume issued we have three books. The first

ttnL'^'T?' "' ''""°" "' '"^ ^'>"-'' '° Chris,
tiamty. The second describes the origin of the

Chnst^n Church, sketching first of all the rise of

the Christian communities and the formation of a

Church constitution, and then the forming and con-

In the th,rd book we have the development of the

1 .

ST/LL HOURS.

Christian Church during the first age. No proper
explanation has ever been given of the non-appear-
ance of the second volume, the materials of which,
Rothe says in his preface to the first, were then ready
and requiring only slight revision prior to publication.
Professor Nippold, the editor of Rothe's •* Life and
Letters," suggests that when subsequently the great
treatise on Christian ethics was commenced, Rothe
felt that there was no longer need for the continuation
of his earlier work, and that the historical matter
was wrought up into the ethical work. This his-
torical treatise at once secured wide fame and high
scientific reputation for Rothe, although its attitude
satisfied very few. While, on the one hand, there is
an apparent churchliness in his idea that traces of the
episcopate may be found in apostolic times, there is,
on the other hand, a very evident anti-ecclesiastical
tendency, which was afterwards largely developed in
Rothe, in the view that he takes of the modern
Christian state, as that in which, rather than in the
Church, the great mission of Christianity must be
fulfilled.

In 1837 a new seminary was founded at Heidel-
berg, and Rothe was appointed director of this
institution. On a review of his Wittenberg experi-
ence, Rothe felt it his duty to make a new departure
in Heidelberg, and from this time onward he gave
much more attention to the development of the
speculative side, in order to find a satisfactory and
permanent basis for the practical. This resolve he

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

carried out with special care and elaborateness in
his studies in the department of ethics. He gave
himself unremittingly to study, refusing to take any
part in writing ephemeral articles to theological
magazines, even when one was started under the
management of his brother-in-law Hahn. He re-
garded the work of the theologian as a peculiarly
responsible one, and insisted that only well con-
sidered and thoroughly digested work should be
presented before the public. Meanwhile Rothe was
zealously working for and upon his great work on
Christian ethics. In 1845 the first two volumes
were published. In presenting these to the scientific
public, he said that he laid before them his theo-
logical confession. In this work he traverses the
whole range of moral theology, developing specu-
latively the entire system of Christianity. Christian
dogmatics he regards as an historical science, in which
the Church doctrine, as laid down in ecclesiastical
symbols based upon Scripture, is set forth. In ethics
again we have the speculative treatment of the truths
dealt with positively and historically in dogmatics.

Just about the time when the last volume of his
great work was published, in 1847, Rothe received
calls from Bonn and Breslau. There was an attrac-
tion in Breslau, as the residence of Halin, and as
havmg been the home of his dearly loved parents ;
but meanwhile the attractions of his work at Heidel-'
berg forbade him listening to any suggestion of a
change. In 1849 however a call was addressed him

STILL HOURS.

again from Bonn, which he saw it to be his duty to
accept. During his five years' stay in Bonn Rothe
threw himself heartily into the ecclesiastical move-
ments of the time ; and of this period he was wont
to say afterwards that it was not without fruit to
him. but what, from painful experience, he there
specially learnt was what he was not suited and had
not been intended for.

All through those years he entertained a lingering
love for Heidelberg, and in 1854 he availed himself
of an invitation to return to that city, where he
continued throughout the remainder of his life This
was a period of great activity, but his work was
carried on amid manifold family sorrows and cares.
After a long and depressing illness, his wife, with
whom he had lived most happily for thirty-eight
years, was removed by death. This stroke was very
keenly felt by him, and his letters, in answer to his
many friends who had written consolatory epistles
show at once the tenderness and affectionateness of
his nature, and the strong faith and warm Christian
piety by which he was sustained. Already Heubner
was gone, and in the years that immediately followed
one dear friend after another was taken away. He
felt himself now very much alone, for his theological
position was such as could be rightly understood and
sympathised with only by those who had known him
in the various stages of his spiritual development.
There is a peculiar sadness in his later correspon-
dence, as he acknowledges the isolated character of

^ff^S'WWBPiMMMW** m

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 59

his position. The Tubingen school failed to ^pre-
ciate his intense spirituality and deep, earnest piety,
and regarded him as a dreamy mystic and theo-
sophist ; while the evangelical party regarded him
as one of the most dangerous of their opponents
whose influence against the truth was all the greater
because of the devoutness and fervour that lingered
in his life and utterances.

For some time Rothe had been engaged upon the
revision of his great work, " The Theological Ethics "
It was on January 31st, 1867, that he wrote the pre-
face for the first volume of the second and revised
edition. His time was now almost entirely given
to his regular class work and the revision of this
treatise. His health was manifestly breaking down
but he struggled bravely to perform his daily duties.
By August 6th his illness became so severe that
he could not go to his class-room, and he now lay
down upon the bed from which he was never to
rise. And on the 20th of this month, the day on
which, as he reminded those around, his father died
twenty.three years before, he quietly passed away.
"Tell them all," he said a few days before his
death to one of his ministerial brethren, " tell all my
friends, all who take an interest in me, that I die
in the faith in which I have lived, and that nothing
has ever shaken or diminished this faith in me, but
that it has been always growing stronger and more
mward." When it was said that perhaps it would
yet please God to raise him up, he said, « If so, then

ii!

!■'

?{?:

IB J

STILL HOURS.

I shall be still at His service ; but I trust that I may
now be allowed to go home."

Rothe had been an eager and discriminating
reader. For many years it had been his habit to
record in his notebooks passages which had specially
impressed him, together with his own reflections,
sometimes expressed in a few pregnant words, some,
t: nes running on into considerable details of original
thinking. This record of his varied reading had been
revised by the author, as if intended for publication
or to be used as material in some other work. Many
passages were struck out, and some were rewritten.
There was however no method observed in the order
of the quotations and remarks, these having been
simply noted in succession from time to time what-
ever the subject of his reading might happen to be.

In 1872, five years after Rothe's death. Professor
Nippold, of Bern, one of his admiring and affectionate
students, published the carefully arranged edition of
this posthumous work of his master, which is here pre-
sented to the English-speaking public in an English
dress. The work of the editor was done in a neat,
conscientious, and painstaking manner. The remarks
of Rothe were separated from the passages which had
suggested his reflections, and were carefully arranged
according to the subjects of which they treated under
convenient and appropriate heads. In no one work
of Rothe do the characteristics set forth in the pre-
ceding sketch find so complete an illustration. We
see him here as the theologian of wide culture and

INTRODUCTOR Y ESS A V.

broad sympathies, the thinker of philosophic grasp
and scientific accuracy, the daring speculator and
unwearied investigator; while at the same time we
recognise in him the man of warm and deep personal
piety of pure and simple heart, in whom no trace
of self-consciousness is found and no taint of per-
sonal ambition. To many this collection of choice
reflections by so profound and earnest a thinker as
Richard Rothe will prove a rich mine of intellectual
and religious suggestion, helpful and stimulating in
no ordinary degree. So varied too are the themes
discussed, that all classes of readers may find some-
thing to interest and to instruct, something fitted to
throw new light on oft-discussed and long-studied
themes, or to lead to new departures in thinking not
ventured on before.

111

Ijipi

PERSONAL.

IMJ

I. PERSONAL.

',!'li X

LIFE EXPERIENCES.

To endure, throughout a whole Hfe-time, the presence
of a psychological enigma, most intimately affecting
one's own personal concerns, without daring even to
attempt its solution, and to feel compelled simply to
cling with heart and soul to the belief that it shall
one day be solved just as love requires that it should,
— this is hard, very hard.

Oh, how bitter and unspeakably hard to bear,
when one by his circumstances is obliged to spend
upon the consideration of his own condition an
amount of time and strength which could with
propriety be devoted only to an objective lite-work,
and would willingly be given to such an object only !

Altogether stupid I am scarcely likely to become-
but rather languid and weary.

Although I must indeed confess that very often,

STILL HOURS.

even through my bodily sensibilities, God has already
made my life uncommonly hard, I must also at once
acknowledge that He has, on the other hand, been
near me with quite uncommon aids of grace, so that
I have been able to get through so many decades of
this painful life already. Here then, surely, there is
room only for humble and adoring thankfulness.

A retrospect of my whole life, from the earliest
period of my recollection down to the present hour,
leaves with me this impression, that I have been, and
am being, guided by a gracious and a mighty Hand,
which has made, and is making, that pos; 'ble to me
which otherwise to me had been impossible. Oh
that I had at all <-imes unhesitatingly trusted and
yielded myself to its guidance !

On reviewing my long life, I perceive with shame
and confusion how, in my professional labours, the
excellence of the subject with which I wrought
always raised the insignificant worker to a position of
respectability.

SELF-CRITICISM.

It is to me a painful observation, that there are
many heads still worse than my own.

s already
o at once
md, been
e, so that
ecades of
•, there is
ess.

) earliest
ent hour,
een, and
y Hand,
e to me
>le. Oh
ted and

h shame
Durs, the
wrought
sition of

lere are

SELF-CRITICISM. ^^

It is my misfortune that I am so'^p^ed in
detectmg "slovenly work" in the world, even in
thmgs which pass among others with high approval.

«
My satisfaction will, life depends on my having
.ved to some purpose, not on a mere peradventure
that I may do so.

The height of my ambition would be attained in
a life as active as possible, but yielding substantial
results, and at the same time as uniform as possible
and free from distraction.

*
I am losing, to a sl,ocki„g degree, my appreciation
of the charms of the " interesting."

*
As God has constituted me, I am fit for nothin<.
else m the world than to be a simple, but perhaps"
m the end, not altogether inefficient, professor of
theology.

That so small a measure of talent has fallen to mv
ot gives me really no pain; all the more however
that I have been placed in an office where really first-
rate talents are required.

*
If I had been as fully conscious in my younger
years, as I am now in my old age. of my incredible
intellectua poverty. I could not have endured the
prospect of my life as a university professor

w -■«Wiir»a*^.T < mt^ <*

STILL HOURS.

My idiosyncrasies are an aversion to cockchafers
and to letter-writing.

One of the beauties of heaven will be that we shall
have no letter-writing there.

*
Letter-writing is an expression of sociality. It is
an indispensable adjunct to friendship.

Why have I such a dislike to preaching ? For the
very same reason that I detest visiting and letter-
writing.

I am a considerable centre, with an immeasurably
small circumference.^

The natural respect of a weak head for a strong
one (which however need not by an means have a
more intense, or qualitatively better, knowledge than
the other) is with me, I am thankful to say, a per-
fectly familiar feeling.

Of myself, I can only say that I am an unprofit-
able servant ; but I serve a good Master, who loves
me with unwearied faithfulness.

A being so peculiarly constituted as I am ought
every moment to be filled with gratitude for the

» The middle point has an intensive and variable size.

' it

SELF-CRITICISM.

boundless indulgence which he requires and receives
from those who have to do with him.

He who has such a dearth of talents as I have
must pride himself (I speak foolishly) on his honour-
able character.

I should like to reallze-were it only for a single
day—how a really- gifted man must feel.

I shall never be perfectly happy, until I have
reached my own fitting place in the lowest room,
as Jiomo gregarius^v^\i,c\i will certainly be given
me, at least in the world to come.

I have an insatiable longing for a condition in
which, surrounded by realities, I should myself be
real.

Oh, what blessedness will it be for a man when
he has reached his destination and rest, when he
has become a being perfectly' balanced, completely
m harmony with himself and with the external
circumstances of his existence I

I am heartily fond of public life, but public
swaggering and noise I detest. At the same time
I know very well that the one is not to be had
without the other, and so I let the empty clatter

STILL HOURS.

pass harmlessly by, seeing only that I have no share

in making it.

I long, not for rest, but for quiet.

Whenever the monotonous quiet of my individual
life is interrupted, a weary longing for its return
takes possession of me. The vita monastica is for
me the only one of real intrinsic vitality. With
such a temperament, one has serious difficulty in
struggling through life, and in keeping his head
above water while swimming against the steady

current of the stream.

My intellectual conceptions must be brought forth
with pain. This is a thought to me profoundly
humbling.

I rank myself always on the side on which one

need have no fear.

I am really ashamed on so many points to have
to correct the unanimous opinion of contemporaries
by my own convictions, and so to seem keener-
sighted than they.

One of. the things which I find it most difficult
to comprehend is how it comes about that there
are men— yes, a considerable proportion of men—
who have a smaller measure of insight than I have
myself.

SELF-CRITICISM.

My one strong point is, that I know exactly where
my weaic points arc.

The power of distinguishing between great and
small, real and unreal, has from childhood onward
been present with me in no ordinary degree.

f ;:

My critical tendency inclines me, in the domain
of science, to criticise my own thoughts rather than
the thoughts of others.

A very common form of narrow-mindedness is
that shown by the originator of a system of thought,
when he imagines that, because it satisfies him as
an individual, it must be in itself satisfactory. From
this form of narrowness at least I know that I am
free.

ATTITUDE TOWARDS THEOLOGY AND THE

CHURCH

I have cause to thank God that He has given me
the power of at once discerning, in the historical
phenomena of the present, amid the whirling clouds
of chafif, the good grains of corn which have shaken
themselves free from that chaff.

■■ li4

STILL HOURS.

It is noteworthy, as a thoroughly logical conse-
quence, that our theologians have to write "moral-
religious," while I write "religious-moral."

I always find among the Christians around me
only the believing confidence that God ivill conduct
victoriously the cause of His kingdom in Christ,
through the course of history, perhaps even in our
own day; whereas on my part, aided by my con-
ception of the kingdom of God in Christ, I perceive
quite distinctly that God is conducting victoriously
the afiairs of His kingdom through the course of
history, and even at this present hour.

In one point I am certainly a step in advance of
most contemporary theologians. I am on terms of
agreement wilh the moralist or ethical Christians
of the day, without being guilty of any indifference
toward religion and positive Christianity.

I have no objection to any one setting his powers
to work in whatever direction he can most success-
fully employ them, although that direction may not
be particularly pleasing to me. This only I insist
upon, that such a rule shall be held to apply to
myself as well as to others.

I am well aware that in theology I play only upon

THEOLOGY AND THE CHURCH.

one single instrument ; that instrument however
forms an essential part of the orchestra. I do not
pretend to be in any sense the orchestra itself. It
IS my vocation and my only ambition that I should
learn to play my own instrument as well as possible
No one can become a well-furnished theologian by
studymg under me alone, regarding it even from a
merely human point of v\^v,. He who simply plays,
as I do. his own instrument alone in the orchestra
must give to his playing another sort of attention
than he who, along with many others, performs upon
some particular instrument, or even perhaps not upon
any one in particular.

That my whole conception of life is untenable
and worthless can be proved only when, in its final
development, it has been wrought into a regular
system. In the pure interest of objective truth, I
can therefore do nothing more useful than continue
most resolutely the elaboration of my own specu-
lative system.

For this one gift I may, without seeming boastful
give thanks to God, in acknowledging that He has
endued me with the power of seeing when there
is nothing beneath the surface, nothing but empty
forms and words, without power or substance, though
set forth with great pretension.

Mil

1 !

^v 7

ST/ZL HOURS.

A place in an ecclesiastical board of control and
similar institutions seems to me undesirable even for
this reason, that there can be no great honour in
merely issuing orders in regard to matters of which
the whole art lies simply in their execution.

It would be wrong on the part of any one to
abandon his own individual way of working ; but
whoever considers his own way of doing a thing
absolutely the best must either be very vain or very
narrow-minded. Of this absurdity at least I am
certainly innocent. If only I knew how, I should
gladly do my work better than in my own way it
is done.

I get on very well with my theological opponents,
and do not need to fatigue myself in wrestling with
them, simply because I make no claim to be right,
or to have established my own conviction, whether
in theology or in any other science, but only propose
to carry stones to the building. It is for the builders
themselves to decide what they are to do with them.
That is no affair of mine. Should they be able even
to roll them completely away from the spot, for my
own part I have no objection even to that. The
work assigned to me has been done; its results I
leave with Him by whom the work was given.

What distinguishes my attitude from that of my

THEOLOGY AND THE CHURCH.

colleagues is that they are self-conscious, while I am
free from any such feeling.

*
A discovery which has caused me no small sur-
prise is, that the characteristic distinction between
myself and most others consists in this, that while
to me personally the fundamental propositions of
religion, and especially of the Christian religion, are
thoroughly self-evident, and form quite spontaneously
and immediate ': the universal and permanent pre-
supposition f . :i u my considerations, others invariably
busy themselves first of rix with making sure of these
fundamental propositions by the aid of reflection.
Thank God! I know by heart the multiplication table
of my Christian-religious mode of thought, and do
not need to be always reckoning it up anew.

*
I am thankful to say that I have never been obliged
to employ artificial, or indeed any express or special
contrivance, in order to secure the presence of reli-
gious ideas, and to work myself into a religious
frame. Such contrivances, therefore, even the com-
monest and most approved, seem to me of little
value.

*
Never, never by any means, shall a good cause, on
account of the worthlessness of its supporters, be to
me a subject of aversion and scorn.

*
In so far as I speak only of matters which in these

',:

\\ r

■«

STILL HOURS.

times must engage the attention of such as labour in
theology, I shall patiently endure all the displeasure
of my contemporaries, which the one-sided and dis-
proportionate representation of these things calls
forth. Enough that I have said exactly what I had
to say. I sing my own part in the music, poorly as it
may sound when sung by itself alone.

*
My theology belongs to quite another era from
that of the Reformers. That era is not mine as an
individual, but that of modern times in general.

*
I cannot understand those people, who would have
the great moral revivals and revolutions that have
taken place in the world, without the improprieties
and disadvantages which are inseparable from such
movements in their early stages.

POSITION IN REFERENCE TO THE PRESENT.

It is quite possible for a man, from an objective
point of view, to rejoice sincerely and honestly in
the changes of modern times, and yet, for his own
part, to wish himself back in the past.

We can work for the future only at the cost of
suffering discredit in the present. He who desires
his work to be really effective must seek no reward
for himself from his doings.

P0SITI0I7 IN REFERENCE TO THE PRESENT 57

Even in the deepest poverty of the present, our
wealth consists in this, that whatever we have ex-
perienced in the past is not lost, but has remained
our own.

Because the evils of the world in every age are
always new and different evils, not those of the past
which, because men have grown accustomed to them'
they scarcely count as evils at all, therefore each new
age seems worse than the last.

A sure method for accurately testing the average
worth of our contemporaries is to take, as a funda-
mental maxim, that theirs is, at any rate, a much
higher worth than our own.

*
One reason why I should not care to begin the
world again is, that life grows more wearisome from
generation to generation.

We must not seek to be wiser than our time, but
only to have a perfect understanding of it'— to
recognise distinctly what its aims and tendencies are.

Men excellent in themselves may become perfectly
useless (in State. Church, etc.) by disdaining con-
stantly to learn new lessons from their time. This
learning does not in any sense mean doing homage to
the spirit of the age ; but it means the development

U .

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W
•I'

I-

■HIHV

STILL HOURS.

of one's self alongside of that spirit by continually
learning to understand it better.

Are not these the true interpreters of history, these
men, so wondrously wise in their own opinion, who
seek the characteristic marks of their age amidst its
dust and rubbish ?

It is only too common for a man to complain that
his times are bad, because he does not find in himself
the strength requisite for undergoing thr^ heavy toil
which they lay upon him. In old age especially t! is
is naturally an oft repeated complaint.

*
A new thing that appears in history, miserable as
it may seem in its early childhood, and .J-.wly as it
may advance to the perfection of ripened manhood,
means yet incomparably more than some completely
outgrown product of antiquity, gray-haired and vener-
able though it be.

Our time is specially sensitive in all that concerns
principles.

The fault of our age, as regards religion, is not so
much that it is on the wrong track, as that it does not
know it is on the right one.

He who desires to accomplish a work for the

ff^-4770N TO THE PARTIES OF THE DAY. 59

present must have something of the future dwelling
in him. **

Every one, who is called to be in any measure
prcuctive in the world, needs indispensably some
discernment (literally, faculty of scenting) the future.

*
In order to be in a position to judge of the general
direction taken by the road on which we are travel-
ling, we must be able to se<-, a good way on in front.

*
^ It is characteristic of modern times, that in them
intellect as stick ranks high.

'if.
Thank God ! I am fully convinced that, even in the
province of the intellect, progress is made with the
same inconceivable slowness, of which in material
nature we have something analogous in the world
of the infinitely little. Even that measure of time
according to which a thousand years are as one day.
IS here utterly inadequate.

RELATION TO THE PARTIES OF THE DAY.

For every man whom I see visibly bringing forth
fruit g'l-'ly do I praise God, the Creator, without
caring to inquire whether, by growing up in some
different way, he might have presented even a more
stately appearance and borne fruit that would have
had a yet sweeter taste.

--e surest way to ruin a good cause is to turn it

^i \ sir

4 ' ll^H

STILL HOURS.

into a party affair ; for then its supporters cannot, in
every separate case, keep strictly to truth and justice,
and they must, besides, seek to make it work directly
on the masses, which is impossible without an admix-
ture of impure ingredients.

The unfailing sign of a partisan is that he fights
his enemies iinconditionally, and for that very reason
criticises their actions with prejudice, suspicion, and
injustice.

Wherever I see anything stupendous in its own
way, there I do reverence, though the way itself may
not please me at all.

When, for the attainment of his own ends, a man
does not scruple to exercise constraint upon the
moral convictions of another (even though it may be
in a very mild way), that is partisanship. Because
I happen to desire a certain thing, that is no reason
why I should wish a.iy one else to agree with me,
otherwise than of his own accord.

One characteristic of the present generation is its
frank and unscrupulous boldness in exercising con-
straint upon the moral convictions of others— for
good purposes.

Semper solus esse volui nihilque pejus odi quam
juratos et factiosos {Erasmus).

RELATION TO THE PARTIES OF THE DAY.

The chief reason why Ifind it so easy to keep on
friendly relations with others is, thrt most men's
individualities present so sharp a contrast to my
own. I rejoice to think that others are dififerent
from myself, and that the world is wide and full of
variety.

Not even for the best cause could I ever be per-
suaded to agitate. Not that I mean to pronounce
decidedly against all agitations ; for they are in-
separable from the party life, which, under certain
circumstances, is indispensable in a community.
There will never be any want of those, who are
bond fide capable of agitating; but for that very
reason, those who could only do it mala fide ought
to be released from the duty of doing it at all. To
this latter class I belong.

■^

It is an occasion of grief and shame that, in
judging of the great religious movements of the
world, men should (as so often happens), because
of the worthlessness and imperfections of those who
seem to be their visible supporters, mistake the
significance of the movements themselves, and dis-
parage them with a haughty superiority, whose
narrow-mindedness brings its own certain punish-
ment. God keep me from all manner of assumption
of superiority !

STILL HOURS.

Not only would I refuse to belong to another's
party, but I would not on any account make or up-
hold a party rallying round what was simply my own
personal conviction.

He who cannot be important without having a row
of ciphers attached to him, and who at the same
time wishes to be important, must of course form
a party.

On whatever point the quarrel may turn, I am not,
and never will be, able to persuade myself that I
alone am right and my opponent entirely wrong.

It is quite possible for two men to be striving after
the same end, and yet to have altogether different
designs, and to be animated by quite diverse senti-
ments.

Esprit de corps may be very easily created with the

help of pride.

To my mind it is a psychological mystery that
any one should desire to see the world (whatever
world it may be, even the smallest) governed
entirely according to his own opinions. For the
cultured man it is a point of honour to avoid every
appearance of cherishing such a desire.

It is sad^ but none the less a fact, that the

RELATION TO THE PARTIES OF THE DAY. 63

Redeemer, in order to carry on the struggle for His
kingdom, had to divide His forces into two rival
camps, which are now on fighting terms with each
other. Only by using both alike for the furtherance
of His kingdom can He attain the result He desires.
It is like a review, in which different corJ>s of the
same army operate against each other. Neverthe-
less, the final victory will rest with one of the parties,
which will then, although after many errors, be
acknowledged as the true one. Well for him who,
while boldly attacking his opponents, yet recognises
111 them his friends, and is joyfully conscious that
both alike have much in common.

*
The opponents of an evil cause need only leave it
room enough ; in time it will destroy itself.

Christians fight «as though they fought not."

*
Beware of speaking contemptuously of those who
are not of your opinion. Beware of arrogance and
self-sufficiency, whoever you may be !

*
The clearness of a conviction is the best preserva-
tive against its over-passionate enforcement.

^ A man is never in a worse case than when he shares
his principles with narrow-minded people, who make
a foolish use of them.

r!:.i

STILL HOURS.

Against fanaticism (especially party fanaticism)
even a noble man is not secure.

I certainly appear to be in advance of many others
in being able, with tolerable ease, to imagine myself
in the situation of those whose individuality and
individual position in life are quite different from
my own.

In order to see our way clearly in history, especially
in that of the present, we must apprehend its various
tendencies with the same precise and logical keen-
ness which belonged to their d. priori conception, but
which, in their empirical manifestation, never comes
clearly to the light. Such a mode of apprehension
is indispensable to myself, and this is what people
call my finical or hypercritical tendency. Without
this definite sharpness of conception, we have before
us merely vague, vanishing historical factors, and we
must grope about continually amid uncertainties and
imperfections.

As regards difference of opinion, no one is per-
sonally a more estimable man because his dwelling
happens to be more favourably situated than the
dwellings of others, as the standpoint for a free,
open, and picturesque view of the landscape.

I so often find, to my very great surprise, that
people candidly object to some course of action

RELATION TO THE PARTIES OF THE DAY.

which, in itself (objectively considered) is perfectly
correct, simply because many or most of those who
uphold it are acting from bad or impure motives, or
because it is practised by those who are (no doubt
with perfect reason) personally obje.rionable to them-
selves.

True agitation confines itsc;' lo waking up the
drowsy.

The real power in some men's characters is looked
upon indulgently by others as a charming and inno-
cent childishness. With such a judgment they may
well be content.

To most people it is a psychological impossibility
to hold a conviction for themselves alone.

Although I have attached myself to a party (every
one who holds a genuine conviction must do so
now-a-days), yet I am unsuited for a true partisan ;
because it is so easy and natural for me to look at
matters from my opponent's point of view, and to
recognise and cheerfully acknowledge how far his
views are right.

TOLERANCE AND CRITICISM.

Every one must undoubtedly judge of things as
he sees them. On this point therefore we have no
right to reproach another, vexatious as his wrong
opinions may often be to us. Nothing m.ore certainly

STILL HOURS.

secures tolerance towards others than our reah'zation
of the need of systematic thinking, and our remem-
brance of the close dependence, in all our conceptions,
ot one idea upon another.

*
^ Is impartiality a thing that may be acquired > A
view on all sides can be had only from the top of the
mountam ; but we may climb up and gain it.

It is Of course quite natural that every man should
consider his own profession the most important, only
he must not forget that others have exactly the same
opinion of theirs.

A man may, with perfect consistency, be inwardly
certain of his own conviction, and yet cherish no
hought of obliging others to assent to it; indeed,
the one is an excellent test of the other.

We shall never convince another that he is wrong
unless we begin by frankly ac', nowledging how far
he is right*

There are very few people who can understand
that, in any given case, it is another's duty to act
quite differently trom themselves.

The keenest-sighted man will become blind to
wide provinces of experimental knowledge if he
habitually avoids turning his gaze in their direction

TOLERANCE AND CRITICISM.

___ (>1

It is lost trouble to attempt to makr^,^
understand what for him has no existence.

There is a large-hearted Christian tolerance, which
s much more eiTectual in l<eepi„g within bounds all
wandermg from the path of Christianity ,L.n the
polemical zeal of eager controversialists.

to our own .deas, and leads us to discuss its actual
history with scorn and discontent.

sun^tn ^' ''' ""^'^ '° ''' *''"'^ ^^°' ^"^ e-^amining the
sun-spots, misses the sun ?

Insight into the necessity of one common faith for
the Church (??)— -Dompr «r«o u j wrtiui lor

p. 892 -iJorner, Gesch. der prot. Theol. "

It seems to me that any one who takes pleasure in

moclcmg at the little things i„ human life does so

because o h.s inability to recognise what is great in

bngs httle. Only in polemics would I admit the

eg.t.macy of safre, and even there it must be a

satire of a not ungenial kind.

«
To make what I regard as a piece of mere
stupidity a subject of serious controversy is entirely

«airii'

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STILL HOURS.

contrary to my inclination. For this reason I can
never have anything to do with what is called the
"average culture."

He is a mere pothouse politician who founds upon
the gossip of the day his calculations in regard to the
future of history, whether it be with reference to
things great or things small.

A man who lacks scientific culture has few ideas,
and even these are necessarily of an indefinite and
confused description ; whereas the numerous ideas of
the man of scientific culture are, by a similar neces-
sity, clear and definitr

One sure mark of an uncultivated and ignorant
man is that he naively assumes that human know-
ledge began with just the same elementary ideas
which are with us traditional commonplaces, never
dreaming what infinitely laborious and complicated
processes of thougl, are presupposed, even in such
conceptions as seem now to us crude and imperfect.

*
Many a traditional idea which circulates amongst
us seems credible only because we have never
seriously examined it.

He whose thoughts rise even a little above the
trivial must not be astonished if most people entirely
misunderstand him.

TOLERANCE AND CRITICISM. 69

Narrow horizons, circumscribed points of view,
have a demoralizing influence.

*
^ Paradoxical people are generally arrogant. The
singularity of their nature, however, should make them
the most modest in the world.

*
God keep my doctrine from this disgrace, that ever
a pedlar in science, travelling about with his wares,
should make boastful assertions on its behalf!

I have not found myself as comfortable as most
people in the turbid waters of the current popular
science and the philosophy of the day.

(■■J

THE PRINCIPLES OF SPECULATION.

ifi

II. THE PRINCIPLES OF
SPECULATION.

THE TASK OF SPECULATION.

It is significant that one and the same word
(deiopia) was originally used to express both specu-
lation and mystic contemplation. The earliest
appearance of speculation was in the form of pure
religious contemplation ; just as indeed knowledge
of every kind always comes into being hidden away
in the depths of the individual soul, and must by
degrees work itself free of its covering. This is
especially true of the speculation and the mysticism
of the middle ages and of the theosophy of Jacob

Bohme.

Dialectics is essentially a non-speculative operation,
although in it speculation possesses an indispensable
assistant.

It forms a part of culture, that we should be deeply
and seriously persuaded, that the knowledge of those
trutiis which are in themselves the simplest has been

'STILL HOURS.

for mankind a slow and exceedingly toilsome and
complicated process.

The saying, that "to him that hath shall be given,"
is strikingly verified as regards the apprehension of
truth.

Correctly to understand the speculation of others
is a very difficult matter ; all the more important
therefore is it that every one should at least have a
thorough understanding of his own.

Each speculative system will receive credit exactly
in proportion as it explains realities.

*
Those ideas which do not in themselves compel
assent, without any direct interference of their origi-
nator, are not worthy of having even a word said to
recommend them.

To occupy oneself with speculation, without pos-
sessing the faculty for it, leads to sophistry.

One essential point in the discovery of a scientific
system is, that we should be conscious of the subor-
dinate importance of the matter, and not imagine it
an historical event.

The parallel to speculation on the side of activity
is /^^rt/ willing (r/Schelling, "Works," I. 3, p. 558 j^^.)

THE TASK OF SPECULATION:

—free willing and doing; i.e. a priori ideas of pur-
pose projected by our own minds.

Because on some special scientific path I can pro-
ceed no farther than to this particular point, does
that imply that the road ends there >

Those who maintain that speculation is an im-
possibility, and that therefore any attempt in that
direction is mere idle sport, yet make constant use in
the ordinary scientific course of results attained by it,
and without this help from speculation they could
not advance a step farther on their way.

There are many, especially among those who
occupy themselves with thought, who, having tho-
roughly illogical minds, cannot be persuaded to pause
and reflect upon their own ideas.

We may measure the intensity and value of a
conviction by seeing whether it holds itself in control,
and can exercise a restraint upon its own power ; or
whether, like a mere natural force, it must pour itself
out in word? ;: miJ attempted performance of actions.

It cannot be boasted of, as though it indicated any
special wisoom, that one is unable to philosophise
without empiiical objects of thought.

7«

STILL HOURS.

Speculation reaches the nature oi things fron. the
inside, not from the outside.

There ;.s no more modest science than that of
theolo-^icai speculation. The speculative theologian
acknc .vledges the merely approximate correctness of
his propositions; and this he does all the more readily
because he knows that, in consequence of that logical
process, which he has accepted for his science as the
principle of its procedure, he has not been able to
avoid those errors which must flow from the mistakes
that will infallibly be slipping in among his funda-
mental operations. The mere reasoner^ on the other
hand, cleanses himself from such errors at every step.
The speculative theologian knows tha^ he has thought
on regardless of cor-oquences ; w' ^reas th^ mere
reasoner is conscious of having advanced with all
proper caution, and so considers his results as well
assured and perfectly rciiable.

Logic, not less than aesthetics, foir^is a part of
ethics.

That man has reason, means simply that man can
thiak. But this thinking power has very different
degrees, and must be learned gradually and with
heavy toil.

When a man dc cides to speculate, he lays himself
open to the scorn of all those who think only in

THE TASK OF SPECULATION.

fragments and aphorisms, and who self-complacently
look upon this, their intellectual incapacity, as wis-
dom,

Does speculation force itself upon any one ? Does
it not expressly declare that it is i»ot a matter for
everybody ? Why then do those who, being unfitted
to speculate, are at perfect liberty to leave it alone,
cherish so violent a dislike to it ?

*
In my own speculation I have always been led on
by an inward compulsion, which I might compare to
tiie mecHnical instinct of animals. In the case of
others, xulation may arise from strength of in-
tellect ; in my . -wn it arises from weakness.

*
^ In the very nature of things, the only really prac-
tical method is the speculative.

*
There is no better and surer test of the human
perceptive faculty, than the attempt to establish a
thoroughly comprehensive system that will yield a
satisfactory theory of the world.

*
In the criticism of the human perceptive faculty,
there is often no d.stinction drawn between the
limited powers of that faculty while yet in growth,
and its wide capacities when, by means of the special
development of human life, it has become all that
it was originaiiy only designed to be. Originally in-

\'\.

I. hi

STILL HOURS.

deed, our self- consciousness is not reason (speculative
capacity), but by means of the moral development of
our nature, it may become reason.

*
The act of thinking is not otherwise possible than
by means of the category of cause and effect, the
original and fundamental category of logic. This is
the principle of the sufficient reason.

Perception, i.e. thought on some given subject, is
the opposite of pure thought. The latter is really
speculation, the former, reflexion.

That a conscious being should also be conscious of
his own conception, and take it as the norm for his
self-determination (as his moral law), does not seem
in any way surprising.

All speculation is of course an experiment. If
the speculator cannot attain a result corresponding
to the empirical fact, it naturally follows that he is
incapable of speculating,— a discovery at which only
a self-conceited fool would be surprised.

A keen thinker may have very confused ideas on
special points, simply because he has never e>. ressly
made them the task and subject of his thought.

Deliberately to throw doubts on the pure ob-
jectivity of our own ideas, means nothing less than

THE TASK OF SPECULATION.

to renounce absolutely the possibility of knowing
objective truth.

It was a curious misconception (especially of Julius
Muller) to suppose that speculation, because entirely
ruled by the law of the immanent necessity of
thought, had its way cut off for reconciling true
freedom (whether of God or of the creature) with
necessity. Behind this idea there is always the
thought that there can be no actual freedom with-
out some mixture of arbitrariness.

*
Without speculation the sciences cannot live.

*
Not by any union of empirical knowledge and
speculation (which would only lead to the mixing up
and ruin of both) will the interests of Christianity, as
opposed to philosophy, be established. This can be
done only by the strictest keeping asunder of specu-
lation and empirical knowledge, and at the same time
the upholding of the unlimited authority of all real
facts as opposed to speculation.

There is a distinction between the difficulty of
comprehension which arises from the startling clear-
ness and vividness of ideas, and that which is caused
by their confusion.

Poor empty-minded, every-day people, who have
no idea what it means to have a new idea strugglfn-
to life in the soul I ^

STILL HOURS.

Our conception ceases at the point where the
thread of analogy with our experience breaks off;
but it would be sad indeed if our thinking also
ended there.

He is certainly in a sad case who can only think
what others have thought before him.

The doctrine that wc can know nothing which we

do not learn on the path of experience has naturally

a seductive charm for all weak, and especially for all

unproductive, minds.

Speculation, while otherwise mindful of the debt it

owes to logic, may claim the title of an exact science

with as much right as natural philosophy, which rests

on mathematics ; for in speculation we calculate

with ideas, and logic is certainly not less exact than

mathematics.

Mathematics occupy the same position towards
material nature that logic does towards thought (?).
The same kind of evidence applies to both.'

Profundity of thought is nothing else than the
clearness and distinctness of one's thinking.

If those good people who cry out against specula-

' For other remarks on mathematics, see under '* Space and
Time."

J ■ .

_^^:m^mmTAL_m^cmEs of speculation, s,

tion would only not .•ml^ii^rii;^^;;;^;;;;;;;^^

IZ /"'r r •"'"* °' °"' =P^™'^«™ 'bought as
they do of the,r little aphoristic thinking exefclses !

or Zr -^'^ *'"' "° "'"'' '° ^^P'-°='* "^ "ith
pride of intellect.

*
The main thing In speculation Is to be strictly
conscientious, and not to allow oneself to be imposed
upon by anything. ^

FCfJVDJM^ATT^Z^ PRINCIPLES OF SPEC UL A TION.

A being can be truly real and perfect only when
It absolutely corresponds to its original conception.

Existence (the real) cannot idealize itself, or change
.tself .no a thought; but thought (the ideal) may
very well realue itself, namely, by the act of think-

t j!;'?'!"-"' "■T'^'"^ '° "■' "o^' ^''^'"^t defini.
tion of .t, .s a thmg (therefore something); thour-ht

accordu,g to the most abstract definition of it, is the

universal. _ According to its n.ost concrete definition,

existence .s freedom, thought is reason. The former

Ihought.'''''''''''' '""'"'"''' "'^ '"'"■' =^"'-'=^'^''''*^d
re ™ dols" S" " '" '^'"^' '"'• °"' ~"^'''°-"--'

STILL HOURS.

When the result of our thought is a necessary logi-
cal inference, then that result must eo ipso be accepted
as existing, as real. He who denies this must con-
sequently altogether deny the possibility of under-
standing anything by means of thought.

*
As regards thinking, one of its primary and most
important steps is the acknowledgment that all
things, in proportion as they are material, are unreal.

*
The exclusion of any reasonable possibility from
the bounds of reality must always rest on some im-
perfection of thought.

*
What a vast conception is that of a being existing
of itself alone ! Such an idea we can clearly enter-
tain of none but the absolutely perfect, and even
then only when we do not imagine it as existing at
once in all its full perfection.

Since we are obliged to think sometimes, whether

we will or not, surely the most sensible plan is to

take pains to think correctly and with the utmost

possible perfection.

Most people imagine that what satisfies their indi-
vidual thought must be objectively satisfactory.

What a difference we find between thought and
thought ! How wide a distinction between the com-

FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF SPECULATION. S3

monplace thoughts of the average individual and
those of the gifted philosopher! How much wider
between our human thinking as a whole and that
of the creating God !

Ruling ideas are certainly indispensable in the
treatment of all scientific matters, but they must be
fruitful.

The fact that the object eventually reaches and
reflects itself upon the consciousness of the subject is
made perfectly clear to philosophy by its conception
of the powers with which the object is endowed.
Hoiv it thus reflects itself is not a question for the
philosopher, but for the physiologist.

*
When we say that anything exists, we mean that
its being is no mere idea or abstraction.

*
Existence = the actual establishment of some idea
(otherwise impossible), the reality of the object of
thought. Only some definite object of thought n
be said really to exist.

A pure ideal cannot be material, because it must
be truly and absolutely ideal, whereas it belongs to
the nature of the material to be, at leart relatively,
non-ideal, as well as non-real.

Only the ideal can be real. Only something can

I'M

STILL HOURS.

be posited as an actual existence. What the material
lacks in ideality, it also of necessity lacks in reality.
Whatever has not existed first in thought has only
an apparent existence.

The more visible and tangible anything is, the
more unreal it is eo ipso.

The general conception of being (as distinguished
both from imaginary and from real existence ^) is that
of the pure logical subject.

A hopeless confusion arises when we understand
the ideal as " thinking " (while it is rather thought),
which can only be regarded as the function of a
thinker, therefore of one who is, at the same time,
real. The opposite of thinking is not existence, but
the positing of our ideas ; just as the opposite of
existence is not thinking, but its product the thought.
But thinking and being are in no way co-ordinate
ideas, and cannot therefore form a contrast.

SPECULATIVE SYSTEM.

I do not require that my system shall be accepted
as correct, but I do require that no one shall dispute
my right to find my personal satisfaction only in a

I Or as distinguished both from possible and from actual
bcin'T.

SPECULATIVE SYSTEM.

method of thought which proceeds on strictly specu-
lative lines.

We must seek the evidence and guarantee for the
truth of a system, not in its beginning, but in its
end ; not in its foundation, but in its keystone.

*
Half truths find many more adherents than whole
and perfect truths. The latter cost too much exer-
tion of head and heart.

It seems incomprehensible that we should require
so much time to draw with any completeness the
necessary results of some new proposition, clearly as
we may understand it in our own minds.

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Most people seem to me to seek the fulcrum of
their individual existence in themselves, in their own
personality. I cannot understand how this is psycho-
logically possible

Wonderful wisooni of my Creator! Along with
the indescribable difficulty which mental work occa-
sions me, He has at the same time given me, in order
to counterbalance my deep-seated sluggishness, an
intense dislike to all superficial, half-hearted, and
slovenly modes of intellectual production and their
results.

J.'
V\

i •'

STILL HOURS.

There are people who quietly leave alone whatever
they find difficult, and work eagerly and with much
satisfaction at whatever comes easy to them. It is
not so with me ; my way of working is exactly the
reverse.

The building of my thought is of such a nature,
that I consider it a duty to employ my small scien-'
tific gifts in beautifying and laying it out.

I am glad that those who would only have mis-
understood me have not taken the trouble to under-
stand me at all.

^ He to whom my thoughts are confused and indis-
tinct, simply because for him they are too clear and
too distinct, is not in a position to criticise them, and
therefore also he is not in a position to reject them.

*
It seems to me a far less important point in ethics
to decide hozv we should act rightly, than to discover
what materialiter happens and results zvhen we act
rightly, and indeed when we act at all. I am chiefly
interested, not in understanding the law of action,
but in finding out what action really is and signifies^
in what its being consists. This interest seems
almost unknown to my contemporaries, but it has
been alive in me from my earliest days. To my
mind ethics is not principalitcr a guide to the action
demanded by the moral law, but an index to dis-

SPECULA TIVE S YS TEM.

cover what that really is which we, seusu medio, call
morality.

My system of ethics prepossesses others in its
favour by its great capacity for formation and de-
velopment.

My system of ethics did not originate in this way,
that I found such a science already existing-, and
only wished to add my share to its building ; but be-
cause my thoughts resulted in such a conception of
man, that all science concerning him spontaneously
assumed the form of ethics.

My own system of ethics appears to me like a
book, which has a right to be what it is, quite inde-
pendently of what may be thought of the task of
theological ethics in general. What place it will
finally receive is to me a matter of indifference.

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III. ON GOD.

THE EXISTENCE OF GOD.

Since the fall, all true knowledge of God, and suc-
cessful speculation about Him, in fact, every kind
of successful speculation, can proceed only from a
religious point of view.

We owe sincere thanks to the modern atheistic
philosophy, becautj through its mcans we have first
realized what an incomparably great thing it is to
maintain the existence of God.

*
The word "God " is very great. He who realizes
and acknowledges this will be mild and fair in his
judgment of those who frankly confess they have not
the courage to say they believe in God.

Although many people sincerely believe that
human existence is tolerable without the certain
knowledge that God is, this opinion rests only on
thoughtlessness.

To maintain the existence of God certainly seems
our only sensible course ; but however much is im-

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STILL HOURS.

pi:cd among us by real good sense, to how {i,ss can
it be truly ascribed !

Man is capable of understanding what God is, only
in proportion as he is morally developed.

In those ages when the will of God was the only
known source of good, and when by the " good "
itself was understood merely the direct relation of
man to Him, the minds of Christians must have had
a very different conception of God from our own.

*
Can the true idea of man (the true moral idea)
exist where the true idea of God is wanting? Un-
doubtedly it is possible that when the true idea of
God exists and rules in a whole community, the true
Idea of man may exist and rule in individual cases,
even when the true conception of God, or perhaps
any conception of Him whatever, is altogether want-
ing. But this can happen in no other instance.

*
When the true moral idea is actively present in any
man's mind, he may, though of course unconsciously
have workings of Divine grace in his soul, even
though he has no true conception of God ; for the
material condition of such influences is then present,
and the formal is by no means unconditioned.

*
The more elementary the development of human
life is (as for example, in the times of the patriarchs),

r
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III:: l!i||

THE UNITY OF GOD. 93

the more vast does the idea of God appear to the
consciousness of man. At the same time, it reveals
itself w'th more splendid lustre in proportion as
man's life attains to a richer and fuller develop-
ment.

God and man are for us alternative conceptions.
As we cannot truly understand the idea of man
without possessing the true idea of God, so the con-
verse is also true.

THE UNITY OF GOD.

God can love only the moral, i.e. something that
owes its position to some inherent power of its own :
not therefore a so called second Person of the
Trinity, who for God could be in no way another.

That three Persons should be one Person is not in
itself contradictory, for the unity of several Persons
(by means of their existence in one another) is, when
they are regarded as spiritual, in itself a perfectly
tenable idea. But the unity of several Persons neces-
sarily implies a distinction along with the unity, and
how three Divine and infinite Persons should be really
distinct from each other is for us quite inconceivable
So that the difficulty, or rather the impossibility, lies,
not in maintaining the unity, but in maintaining the
real tripersonality. In order to be distinct Persons,
the Divine Beings must undoubtedly be individual'

i,i

\-\\

STir.L HOURS.

and as such they would not correspond to the idea ol
absoluteness, which is inseparable from our concep-
tion of God. For that very reason, if we consider the
three Persons as alike Divine, it is impossible, in the
Church's doctrine of the Trinity, to avoid tritheism.

*
If the unity of God is not a numerical unity, then
it is not in any sense what we mean in asserting
monotheism.

The opponent of the doctrine of the Trinity does
not deny that three Persons can be one {co)if. Ebrard,
" Dogmatik," i., p. 193) ; but he does deny (i) that there
can be three absolute Persons ; (2) that between ab-
solute Persons any real distinction can exist ; (-^ <.hat
three Divine Persons in their unity can be • ie.
an absolute spirit existing essentially as a Person.
The conception of theism is, that God \z a Person ;
that of monotheism therefore, that He is one Person,
not a plurality of Persons, which would necessarily
imply a plurality of Gods, or copies of God. To this
we may add (4), that in the case of Persons who are
differently constituted, we shall expect to find some
purpose and motive for their coalescing in a unity,
but not in the case of Persons who are constituted
exactly alike, as absolute Persons must necessarily
be. (Precisely the reverse, as we see, of Ebrard's
idea.) Such Persons can have no mutual love, be-
cause their mutual love would really be self-love, and
that of course would be a contmdictio in adjecto.

THE ABSOLUTENESS OF GOD.

An exclusive unity of God and a man (such as
the Church's doctrine requires) is impossible, for this
reason, that the man is always an individual. Even
the universal individual is an individual still.

*
As a dogma {conf. Schelling, S. W. ii. 3, p. 46) tlic
assertion of the unity of God occurs only as a proposi-
tion m the doctrine of the Trinity.

THE ABSOLUTENESS Of GOD.

It belongs undoubtedly to the conception of the
absolute, that it is tmnscendental, and lies beyond the
range of all experimental knowledge. It can there-
fore be discovered only by speculative means, because
It IS in its primary conception entirely spiritual, and
therefore entirely immaterial.

In the fact that th> Divine objectivity and the
Divine subjectivity mutually presuppose and result
in each other lies the necessity for considering the
process of the Divine self.actualization as absolute
and irrespective altogether of the course of time.

In the sense of absolutely pure being, could we
say that in creation chaos is the corresponding idea
to God } In that case, chaos must lie behind even
matter.

It is strange that we fmd it so much more difficult

n.;i

STILL HOURS.

jjiiiU

to believe in the origin?.! existence of the perfect
(that is, of God) than in that of the imperfect (such as
primeval mud, matter, etc.) ; for the perfect clearly
corresponds much more nearly than the imperfect to
the idea of self-existence (of creation not by another).
This is the real kernel of the argumentum ontologi-
cum.

The saying, "Ex nihilo nihil fit," may perfectly
well be applied to the self-existence of God.

In the conception of the absolute, both possibility
and reality must be supposed as existing together in
one, without in any way excluding each other. The
absolute is therefore entirely self-necessitated being.

The absolute perfection of a being conceived of as
personal consists in its capacity for forming a con-
ception of the highest possible end, and for absolutely
positing its own idea.

The Good is that which corresponds to its con-
ception, the True. In the creature this conception is
more nearly teleological. God is the absolute Being
and the absolute Good, because as the absolute Being
He perfectly corresponds to the conception of the
absolute ; i.e. He is determined in an absolute way,
which also implies that He is thus determined entirely
of His own will.

THE ABSOLUTENESS 01- GOD.

The Good is that being which entirely corresponds
to its conception ; but it belongs to the conception
of true being, that it is self-posited (existing not
merely of, but ^sq for, itself).

The Good in God is not moral good. Even in the
perfected individual creature this is no longer the
case. Moral good is becoming, and is destined to
become, real good ; but it has not yet attained per-
fection.

The absolute "union of necessity and freedom"

is directly implied in the conception of God, for it

necessarily belongs to the idea of the absolute, that

it is purely self-posited, and for this very purpose,

purely self-positing being. (For if being self-posited

were for the absolute a principle given it, then it

would be determined by this, and would thus be

dependent on another.)

We contradict ourselves when we refuse to that
absolute Being, who, according to our conception,
is not only determined, but also determined in full
perfection, the very highest of all the determining
attributes of being (whether known to us by e;i.peri-
ence or in themselves imaginable), vis. personality.

Whenever philosophy renounces the idea of a
personal God (which really means to renounce every
idea of God), it necessarily degenerates into mytho-
logical pensonifications.

I i

'«!-]

STILL HOURS.

Wh.le determining Himself as the absolute Person,

as the absolute Being ; for thus only does He reallv
ex,st entirely by His own self-determination "^

*
Uiidoubtedly God alone is absolute being; but

elated T '•"' '^"^ '""^ '^^^^^^P^^ (P--n^O

what ft i. "^ " T ''' °"" '^^^^^ ^^-^"^- 0-t '•'
what t ,s ,n an absolute way). This latter is the

so called n/a^ive absoluteness.

Tff£ INFINITUDE OF GOD,

Absoluteness and infinitude are in no way identical

TaT sTr '1"'"'^ '' ^^'^'y ^^-•^>' with th
Idea of self-negation added. It cannot therefore in
any sense be predicated of God.

«bIiT !t "°, '^°'*''' "° P^^*"^^ ^efin^'tion of the
absolute, than the word "infinite."

as tof- fi 1 '^'"' """ "■■"=' ^""J «'e«fore just
as little mfinite as finite.

En> i

THE INFINITUDE OF COD.

Infinitude, when predicated of God, means simply
this, that His being does not, through the existence
of the finite (created by Himself) and through His
relations with it, become less purely infinite ; that it
does not come under the same category as the finite,
owing to His connection with it. Because the being
of God is a being outside space and time, it cannot
enter into their relations, and cannot therefore come
into collision with them. He who exists entirely
outside space and time cannot have His own being
limited because another occupies only a fixed portion
of space and time. Because the being of God does
not come under the category of space and time,
being quite independent of both, therefore, when He
does enter space and time, it is not as being Himself
controlled by them, neither does He in any way com'^-
under the influence of either.

How little the idea of the infinite can be used as
synonymous with the idea of God becomes evident
from the fact that space and time are themselves
infinite (?).

The words "temporal" and "eternal" do not in
any way exclude each other. The opposite of the
temporal is the timeless, and therefore originless •
the opposite of the eternal is the non-self-existent.

One of the many superstitions which, in our
science, are practised with the idea of the infinite

lOO

STILL HOURS.

por ance being very mueh over-estimated, is the
no.,o„ that the infinitude of God makes any adequa e
■dea (no merely an approximate conceptio^) of Hta
« e. But is it not a matter of LiffLence to
he mathematican, in his idea of the line, whether

the length of that line is limited, or whethe

stretches on into the infinite?

*
The infinite is for us simply inconceivable. [We

cannot make a mental representation of it]

Why should people always imagine that ,ve lose
«>meth,ng of great importance in our knowledg Tf

ccivable.' [We cannot picture it to ourselves It !,
'77*-^ The importance lies in ^ J^l
of the be,ng to be known; its q,,a,„i,y is oi JZ
subordinate consequence. ^

THE IMMVTABIUTY OF COD.

The immutability of God does not imply ,hat He
;s unaffected by the condition of the worfdralthoul

LT-nK'^' "■; '""' "•- ^-^"ted does no
result .n a change of condition in Himself The
reason of this is. that His being is really untemporal
and can therefore know nothing of vicissitude G^'
" ""'^°"'"^'"y ^"^"'^d "y all conditions of the worfd

THE IMMUTAnrUTY OF GOD.

tot

at every moment of its being (of the whole, as well
as of the individual creature) ; but since for Mim no
separate moment of the world exists as separate, but
always in union with all separate moments of the
world's being, therefore, while being affected by one
particular moment, He has ever present to Him at
the same time the affections caused by all other
separate moments. He has constantly present to
Him the entire totality of all the affections which
have come to Him from the world, only determined
under the potency (under the louder sounding) of
the special and separate affection of each passin-
moment ; and this must be always similar and homo!
geneous. His immutability rests therefore on the
fact that He never beholds the separate as merely
separate, but always in conjunction with the absolute
completeness of the whole.

Self-sufficiency certain;:- belongs to the conception
of absoluteness, and must therefore undoubtedly be
ascribed to God ; but God really suffices to Himself
only in so far as He really unites in Himself the
possibility and necessity of the world.

It would be an actual imperfection in God (a
mental dulness or indolence) if He were not affected
by the condition of the world. His absoluteness
demands only that His being thus affected by the
world shall in no way involve a disturbance (change
or limitation) in His own being.

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God is immutable, because His being' in all its
changes and modincations, remains constantly me

makes °Hr:"T"°"- , '^"^"^^ "^ edition 'nl:
makes H,s own bemg less or greater, but at everv
moment, and in all variations of the hanging re -
^ons between Himself and the world, He r:mains n

pl^essand T " °"^f ''"solute and perpetual hap-
p.ness and glory, or, if we unite the two, of absolute
and perpetual vitality Of the agency of oTad
^a .mmutability cannot be predicated, because we
do not cons,der it as absolute. Seeing hat God It
a .mes and in all His relations with the worHp'e

fe Hi37"'! '° "''^ °™ "-• "^ '= at all t Ls
like Himself,' and consequently immutable.

SEPARATE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES.

That determining quality of God, which causes
H.m wh.le actualising His absolute potential ty

way), yet at the same time not to relinquish this
po.ent,ahty but rather to preserve it, is H L se

the Idea of God is not really an idea of God. It is

' Just as, ill slrict analogy with ivliai 1,-.= l,.„ -j ,
.ipproxiniately p.-rfect character »miH,??, ""■ ■*"""■ ""

SEPARATE D/VmE ATTRIBUTES.

>03

1 all its
itly true
n never
at every
ng rela-
lains in
reason
al hap-
bsolute
jrod ad
luse we
jrod, at
Id, per-
1 times

:auses
tiality
solute
1 this
self,
tence
It is

VQ, an
itions
i per-

not an attribute of the Divine Being, but rather an
attribute of the very conception of such a Being.

*
The real purport of the idea of eternity is that ot
self.existence, both of which ideas perfectly coincide
Considered as timelessness. eternity has an entirely
negative meaning ; if we seek to express the idea
pos.tivcI>, the thought results that God is causa sui.
It is for this very reason that the eternity of God is
so sharply accentuated in the religious consciousness.
God IS also causa sui because of His immanent trini-
tarian process.

Just because eternity is a predicate of the Divine
being (of the hidden God), we cannot possibly con-
ceive Its idea in a positive form.

We must exclude from the idea of God all those
attributes and functions of personality, which have
their principle in the inherent individuality of the
person, e.g. all impulse and sensation, all appropria-
tion and enjoyment, all anticipation and contem-
plation all pleasure and displeasure, and along with
this all blessedness (notwithstanding i Timothy vi
15). (Therefore there was need of a High Priest
who should be both God and Man ; such a High
Priest as we find described in Hebrews ii. 17, 18 • iv
15.) Yet this exclusion is merely an exclusion of
limitation. (See the general scheme of the Divine
attributes.)

«»

V, •
i •

;t I

\
'i

hi'

104

sni./. j/ouKs.

ascrih". ^i^ ''°''"''' "° '■■""^'■duality, we cannot
ascnbe to H.m any definite individual self-conscious-

wh'l ^"^/"^'''"S <^ distinguished from tliought),
whether of pleasure or displeasure. In the strict
psycholog,ca sense, He can have no affections; for
nH,m affection ,s self-consciousness, which, through
he n,ed,at,on of feeling, on the one hand, and in-
cl nat,on, on the other, passes over into self-activity.
But .n spue of this, we must suppose that there is in
God a transmon from His absolute self-consciousness
lul" '^'t" =='f-^«'"''y. only, as we must ex-

brought about immediately by Himself. We may
the efore suppose that there are in God qualities
analogous to affections ; on the one side, anger and
on the other, satisfaction or love (as a^ alcdo")

ficlnTaf t'" " -"^^ "■" =■" "= ™-- -" -
attr bnt T"' ^"""'''- '»"8-»"fl-"»g. etc.). Those
attributes however which belong to feeling as such
must be expressly left out of sight; not mefely tho e

cLd Iv r"' r"; ""' "'""'"'^- ""' J"^' «' Oe-
mu t fh Ir t "'""'^ ^'" ''"PPiness of God
must therefore be conceived as without the attribute
o merely mdividual pleasure, and in this way .' !

anrt:dbSi.^'^''--'^'-

a nitfnf ^°'^' T "'"''"• *P'="''' °" H« having
a natural organ.sm (animated body) in closest unio.,
witii His personality.

SEPARATE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES.

loS

We cannot gain a clear idea of the Divine omni-
presence unless we draw a distinction between God's
inworking and His indwelling.

In perfected personal creatures the Divine omni-
presence is real indwelling.

God is good and holy, but . is also incomparably
great {^geiiial gross = \\\.. supremely gifted].

*
The expression, " foreknowledge of God," may be
very easily misunderstood and perverted. The only
sense in which there can be a foreknowledge of God
is that of forethought (of a priori conception), and
consequently of fore-ordination.

*
How obstinately we all cling to the heathen custom
of supposing that the chief characteristic in the idea
of God is His absolute /^xwr .'

*
To call God an "ethical" being, and to speak of
the "ethical" in Him, is most confusing. He is a
personal being ; we can stretch the analogy no further
than this. (?)

if'';"

It is a narrow-minded delusion which leads us to
imagine that God is so very lofty that we must deny
to Him all that makes up the special charm of
humanity. Our own lofty ones fancy that they
should renounce this also to a large extent.

■is

thoughts .W^fo„„„ /'.'•/ "•' "gl" that my
wax on wh.-ch I ..gh: Ja^^ ^^f" '"' °*"

finitely ma.joff 'rrres-r; f ;''"'"»' ^^■

■•-«H„ap,u„h-tyorhe.^'lrthtr;:r'''

We should not treat the ?ooH r.^
able; therefore not as a„ L^i ^1 " """■"""•

We cannot indeed sneak nf r^^
but He does not in this vvav In " "''"'"^^'
attribute He nn«c ^ '^ ^"^^ affirmative

cause H. ^ T '"' "° 'ndividuah'ty, only be
cause He includes in Himself ,.« . . /• ^
quaHties, which taken '""'"^V"^ ^^^^/^/J' of those
duah-ties. ' '" ''P^'^^^^^^' ^°"«t'tute indivi-

SEPARATE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES.

the same

•n trying
e feeling
- power-
that my
ly other

ique \n
s to the
: being
ng de-
that it

eason-

idual,
lative
Y be-
those
idivi-

IC IS

107

We can form no mental representation {vorstel-
lung) of the being of God, because it is timeless, and
our mental representations can be constructed only
under the categories of space and time. This how-
ever does not necessarily imply that we can form no
idea of such a Being. P'or this reason then, because
the thinking of the creature necessarily comes under
the categories of space and time, our thinking is
mainly in the form of mental representations, and
the mental representation forms a part of the actually
complete idea.

It seems to us a simple and purely elementary
truth that God is holy love, but how could we have
known anything about it without Christ and the
revelation made by Him ? Nature and history show
us clearly the wise and mighty God, but where do
they show Him as holy and loving?

It is easy enough to repeat that God is love;
but who, looking merely upon the natural course of
earthly existence, would himself have fallen upon
the idea ?

In Old Testament times men knew that God was
good {cf. e.g. Gen. 1. 19), but they did not yet know
that it belongs to the very conception of man himself
to be good.

•1?

'■i

ic8

STILL HOURS.

PANTimmr and materialism.
In pantheistic mysticism Cr^A • „

in ordinary nanfhT ' ""^^"^ everything;

ruinary pantheism everything is God.

The pantheism of the n^\AA\r.

">^"t of moral con 111 '^^ ™' =" '"°^«-

purely religious. W fi„' it r/'P"^'""" '° ""^

empty-mindedness and Z^ '^^ ^^^'' °^n

--e„ce.ere:ratuS:-rl^::-

He who thinks of God as in H- „
»'»ple being (a, ./ q'!,'"^ '" '""''■''3'
strongly tempted to t™ a rTr'"' ""' ''^
-HimaspanicnlarisilrHiUS:^^^^^^^^^^^^

rorXtlhrrir.f- -'--^'-.and many

""•nds. They supl " °"' """^ easygoing

cuities, and/at thetme t""""^ """'■°" "^ '"«

<'e«niteiyfo;m„,:tv;:urre;e:t;r '- "=

Materiah'sm is a Icndenr., n^f

therefore be co„,„e™d by ^J ^ " T"" ' " """"'

"/ setting up any system in

Tything;

I move-
1 to the
nscfous-
created

^^NTHEISM AND MATERIALISM. ,09

opposition to it. no matter how excellent that sys^
tem in itself may be.

*
What people call the materialism of our time is
the more or less clear consciousness, which men are
beginning to have now-a-days, of the human value
of material things for truly human purposes.

I 'I

theism,
r own
Jng, in

itirely
St be
'ption

nany
es to
oing
h'ffi-
I be

inot
1 in

'Uli

GOD AND THE WORLD.

IV. GOD AND THE WORLD.

CREATION OF THE WORLD.

True natural science, as a construction of the
nature of our earth, must never forget that the
creation of our planet most probably presupposes
the existence and active agency of other spheres
to which the peculiar concrete forms in which the
special grades of created beings have appeared must
be causally referred. The prima materia of our
planet was probably not in itself the pure and
entirely abstract prima materia, but only relatively
a primeval matter, in which were present the un-
consumed remains of earlier cosmic spheres, the
development of which had been fully completed.

*
Supposing that the sun were a fully developed
therefore a really spiritual, sphere, then light (which
includes heat) would be elementary spirit streaming
forth from it, not as pure spirit, but in union with
the material elementary substances of our earthly
atmosphere. What our sense? apprehend of light
would in that case be its non-sp....ual element. The

114

STILL HOURS.

sun itself would be perceptible only in its reflexion
in our material atmosphere.

Heaven, the dwelling-place of God, is in all places
of creation (or space) where God has given to Him-
self a real being, where He therefore has bein-
(though without limitation) in the midst of space"
Heaven must therefore be apprehended as in infinite
growth, and consequently as being itself infinite.

*
It is noteworthy, that in creation each higher step
always arises from the dissolution of the one below
so that the lower, by means of the creative influence'
always forms the substratum for the generation of the
higher. (This cannot be otherwise if the creature is
to be developed from itself.) From the decomposi-
tion of elements arises the mineral, from decayed
matter the plant, from the putrifying plant the ani-
ma. So from the material human being, as he sinks
back mto the elements, arises spirit, the spiritual
creature.

Creation is creation only in so far as we find in it
no sudden bound, but in all its links a real develop-
ment from the preceding links of the chain.

Like the creation of nature, that of man has not
yet come to a close. Both processes run parallel to
each other.

CREATION OF THE WORLD.

________ "S

The Scriptures distinguish two creati^iiTo^^
a material ixeipoirolrjTosi) and an immaterial (Heb. ix.'
II ; cf. vv. 14, hia nverjfiaro^ altovi'ov, and 24).

*
It is equally true that God dwells in the perfected
r- ^""fy ^P»"'t"al) creature, and that the creature
(even the imperfect) dwells in God. Our duty is to
see that God does dwell in the creature which dwells
in H,m. Then, notwithstanding His work of creation,
God dwells again entirely by Himself.

The distinction between creation and preservation
m the ordmary sense entirely disappears, wlien
creation .s considered (as it must be) as contiguously
progressive. ^

Creation as a Divine act is eternal ; but creation as
a Divme work, as the creature, cannot be eternal
because, in accordance with its very idea, it is placed
without exception under the law of finitude.

*
So far indeed the creature is certainly not eternal
because the creative influence of God, according to
Its very conception, enters directly into space and
Ume, and thus becomes directly affected by both.
Although in Itself eternal, it is everywhere present
only as temporal.

The f.nitude which belongs essentially to all created
-" necessarily implies that it (as being made up of

being

lis'

i;m

IH'

'wmV

!■

m'^

Ii6

STJi.L HOURS.

separate parts) exists in all its forms (grades, kinds,
species), in a multiplicity of separate beings. As each
of these many separate beings has its own peculiar
and various conditions of origin and existence, there-
fore the many are at the same time dissimilar.

)«
Even after the creature, in its perfected spirituality
has attained to infinite being, it yet remains finite'
because of its temporal origin, even setting aside the
fact that, according to its own conception, it can never
cease to be a divided and alterable beincr

Creation is not a miracle. A miracle is essentially
an absolute act of God, which essentially creation is
not. And because the miracle is an absolute act of
God, it vanishes immediately within the circle of
created things, and does not form a new and con-
tinuous chain of events in the world.^

*
It is no proof of God's omnipotence that He creates
pure matter ; the proof rather consists in riis doing
away with matter merely as such.

While God creates time, His creation is itself a

creation in time, a temporal creation. The same is

. n*^ of space. But His being is also eo ipso a creating

' i 'av-e :st.d time. If the whole antithesis of past.

?\r:c

uiure had .- o existence for God (Ebrard, i., p.

> For further aphorisms on the subject of mi'racles, see under
Supernaturalism."

CREATION OF THE WORLD.

225). then He would be unable rightly to understand
temporal things, and would not therefore be the all-
wise and omniscient God.

If I were not to proceed on the assumption of a
teleology in the world, such as is alone consistent
with the idea of a creation by God. it must remain to
my mind a most problematical question whether my
knowledge, that derived from the senses and that
derived from the understanding, really comprehends
anything of facts as they truly are.

*
The being that is perfect and exists absolutely
must be conceived as the original, as the cause of the
being that is imperfect and exists only relatively.

*
That there must be something which was not
originated by another, no thinker can dispute. But if
this uncreated being exists, it must be itself its own
originator ; it can exist thus only of itself. Such a
being alone can be without origin, which suffices to its
own existence, and which is. at the same time, the
causality of all originated things.

*
The solidarity of interests in the universe.

*
Natural forces are undoubtedly "elastic" (as even
experience shows us), for they are capable of bein-
mfinitely modified by each other's influence. "*

i .

STILL HOURS,

^ In creation (alike in nature and in history) there
IS everywhere a wealth of variations upon those
themes which rest on absolute necessity. The varia-
tions themselves do not rest upon logical and im-
manent necessity, but on the free artistic play of the
creative and relatively co-creative intellect.

In the creation of the material world God is not

only an architect, constructing all things after His

own design, but also a perfect artist ; i.e. in creating

the visible world, He constantly considers the esthetic

impression that it will make on the feelings of its

personal inhabitants, in order that they too may

understand Himself, His consciousness. He is the

first and greatest landscape-painter.

*
Every flower is beautiful when it blooms.

*
Man, in his productions, has many separate ideas •
God, m His creative work, has but one. but that
comprises all in all.

*
^ It is well in physics to go back to atomism ; but if
in all nature we see nothing more than an aggregate
of atoms, if we forget that the Maker of these atoms
has, by His creative power, produced from them
incomparably higher things, this is. to use the mildest
expression, a culpable thoughtlessness.

Unless we look at the matter from the standpoint

CREATION OF THE WORLD.

119

of theism, we cannot imagine that the really finite
world originated otherwise than by means of those
limitations, which were laid upon an originally positive
bemg by some negative principle. From the theistic
standpoint, the case is, of course, reversed.

It is not correct to say that "in the last and
highest instance willing is the only being " (so that
all real life has freedom as its foundation) ; the true
expression is rather that in the last and highest in-
stance only a being w/io iviUs is the fundamental
principle of all.

Is the idea of a God creating all things after His
own design so very absurd that we must, without
saying anything about it, set aside this, the most
natural of all explanations of the world >

He who attempts to understand the world without
possessing the idea of God, can only guess ; he who
makes the attempt, possessing this idea, is able to
explain it.

If God could not raise the creature to something
better than its present condition, He would not have
begun to create it at all.

♦

God cannot share what He is and has with
another, but He can impart it to another.

:i:

I'; if

, f

|!'

120

STILL HOURS.

The creation of God is equally characterised by
wise economy and by generous lavishness ; by the
former in its plan, by the latter in its execution.

It is pure thoughtlessness to maintain that God
created the world from love, and yet to deny that
He created it from necessity, from an inward com-
pulsion.

He whose highest ideas in theology and cosmology
are "barren^ is undoubtedly on the wrong track.
Theological and cosmological ideas can be made use
of only when they are really fruitful, in comparison
vvith those which lie lower, and may be discovered on
the path of experience.

The creature can possess value for God only when
purely by its own self-development, it becomes what
It ought to be ; that is to say, when it ceases to put
Itself in opposition to God. But only by means
of Its relation to God can this self-development be
achieved.

The world does not give itself being in God (to
whom space is unknown) ; but God gives Himself
being in the world. His own eternity nevertheless
remaining unimpaired.

From the standpoint of belief in God, therefore
from the presumption that the world, ourselves in-
cluded, is His creature, it naturally follows that we

CREATION OF THE WORLD.

121

may venture confidently to trust our means of know-
ledge (our senses in their widest acceptation); i,e. we
may trust that they are real means of knowledge
(true senses). From any other standpoint we would
have much difficulty in gaining any certain knowledge
on the subject.

^ The true real is not the real in itself, but the real
in its indissoluble union with the ideal.

*
That an element of the creature is indispensable
as an intermediate step towards the attainment of
the definite creature, owing to the law of develop,
ment of the creature from itself; and that this is
indispensable as an organic clement in the creature
or material nature, in order to its life or temporary
existence ;— these are two different sides of one and
the same question, of one and the same teleology
of separate created things.

*
It is a perfectly natural consequence that those
who believe that our earth left the Creator's hand
in an already perfect state should, as we always
find, look upon tradition {cabala) as the only source
of knowledge.

The creature can have value in God's eyes, and
be an object of delight to Him, only in so far as
it has become what it is entirely by its own self-
development.

hsi

. !

\ *

1 ■ \

.fe

122

STTLL HOURS.

ill

If the creature which God wills to create is to be
the same as God, and yet another than God, distinct
from Him, then He must make the creaturely being
that ,s like Him out of a being which is entirely
unhke H.m,-which is. in fact, the opposite of what
He ,s. He must therefore first of all produce a
bemg contrary to Himself.

*
Matter can be said to be in any sense positive
only because it is not merely (negatively) not what
God IS, byt rather because it is precisely (positively)
\^^^contrarium of what God is. Matter is indeed a
nullity, but it is a positive nullity.

*
If spirit and matter do not form a perfect contrast,
Jet us have done with all our logic.

Pure matter is not yet world {Kh<Tiioi),

How can an emanation proceed from that which
has no parts ?

^ What a ncuve idea it is to imagine that all nature
IS merely an adornment, placed round man for the
purpose of beautifying him !

^ All that exists, the being of every actual thing
indispensably presupposes its previous e;cistence in
thought. This is also true of the world as a whole
as cosmos, *

PRESERVATION OF THE WORLD.

123

There are but few people so constituted as to be
able to keep their eye and their attention at once
both on God and the world.

What strange beings men are, that to them God
should become small in proportion as the world
becomes great!

All true inventions are only discoveries.

PRESERVATION OF THE WORLD.

The Divine preservation of the world is not a
continuous creation. The creation of the world is
no doubt infinitely progressive (John v. 17), but the
preservation of the already created being does not
require a new creative influence on the part of God.
The already created being is preserved, in so far
as it is in itself perishable,— therefore only thus far.
The creature that is already really spiritual is not
an object of the Divine preserving power. With the
completion of creative activity in the earthly sphere,
the preserving influence of God comes there to an
end;i therefore those who belong to this sphere,
but have not become spiritually perfect (the lost),
are eo ipso placed outside the reach of the preserving
influence of God. The Divine preservation of the
world is thus always a preservation of the natural

' When God Himself really exists in the creature, the latter
can have no further need of preservation [cf, Rev. xxi. 23).

124

STILL HOURS.

V !'

Side of the creature. (Many serious difficulties are
thus overcome.) But for this reason preservation is
the peculiar function of the Divine nature.

*
The Divine preservation, purely as such, does not
act directly on the separate created being, but directly
only on the totality of special created spheres-or
more correctly, on the totality of all special created
spheres. Wherever the preserving power of God
acts on a separate created being (or on a special
circle of such), there a miracle takes place. There
are many more such miracles than we ever dream of.

*
The conception of the Divine preservation of the
world is, that the true, continuous existence of all not
yet really spiritual creatures, because it may at any
moment be annihilated by the Divine omnipotence
rests therefore on a function of God, which does not
nullify, but lather confirms it, and must be referred
to Him as its cause. This may be said of every
separate being which has not yet become truly
spiritual, for no separate being is an indispensable
potency in God's plan of the world ; but this cannot
be said of the world as a whole. The Divine pre
servation acts therefore on the former, not in any
sense on the latter. Until they become spiritually
perfect, separate beings are therefore, as regards the
continuation of their existence, in a state of entire
dependence upon God ; and this dependent relation
but no more than this, is required also by the piou^

PRESERVATION OF THE WORLD.

consciousness. The continuous existence of separate
material creatures is undoubtedly assured by the laws
of nature ; but these are so elastic, that God could
at any moment put an end to the existence of every
material being by means of these very laws.

*
The Church's doctrine of the Divine preservation
of the world rests on the. same delusion as our
bureaucracy; namely, on the assumption, that if
others are to be dependent upon one person, that
one must himself do everything for them.-while in
this way he has real/y nothing dependent on him,
merely a number of empty ciphers.

*
God can really {i.e. purely) love only those creatures
for whom He had first to give Himself, with all that
He is,-sacrificing Himself in order to qualify them
as objects of His love.-before He could give Himself
to them by means of mutual communion. The act
^f self-surrender to another must be, even for God
an act of self-sacrifice, owing to the toil and trouble
which it costs Him to bring it to its completion.

The pain of sympathy is the only pain which God
can know.

God cannot sufier, but He can sympathise.

In what a different attitude does adoring admlra-

\ 1 1/'

ii:-i

126

STILL HOURS.

tion Stand in presence of the enigma of the world,
from suspicious scepticism, proud of its own irony !

*
If man, on the path of morality, exercising his
understanding and advancing his culture, has appro-
priated to his own personality the whole of outward
earthly nature, and thus by assimilation has spiritua-
lised it, he will, at the same time, have appropriated
to himself all the real ideas of God, which constitute
the Divine nature, as far as these can reveal them-
selves in the earthly creation.

i I

ANGELS AND DEVILS.

God's working through the angels is the natural
consequence of His being in the angels.

*
It is no mere accident that the Scriptures describe
the angels as so often taking an active part in the
history of the Redeemer, especially at the time of
His entrance upon His life on earth.

*
As regards the doctrine of angels, most of our
contemporaries seem almost to suppose that the
spiritual perfection of a creature involves its im-
prisonment in heaven. (How differently does Christ
Himself look upon the matter !— Matt, xxviii. 18, 20 ;
xviii. 20.) The same is true of demonology.

Ht
As regards the higher spiritual world, we learn

THE SUPERSENSUAL WORLD.

127

from the Scriptures that in it real angels and devils
are actively present. We know from Scripture that
there are such beings, what their nature is, and how
they act ; but whence they come, and whither they
go, the Scriptures do not tell us.

*
The devil is in God's world an illegitimate power
and unacknowledged by God ; but, at the same time,
he IS an actual ^o^^x, which God cannot ignore.

THE SUPERSENSUAL WORLD.

Is it less adventurous to assume that matter will
perish, than to believe it will be spiritualized? What
are we then to think of the " supersensual worid " ?

He who wishes to look into the supersensual
world must prepare himself to find things in it which
will appear to him most wonderful.

The invisible spiritual worid is not merely invisible
for us, but is altogether imperceptible by means of
the senses.

In material nature the most real, because the most
intense and energetic, forces are the imponderable,
those which are least tangible and altogether least
perceptible by the senses. From this we may draw
an inference as to the reality of invisible and spiritual
things.

'■:♦'

128

STILL HOURS.

If, in facing the question as to whether there is a
supersensual world, as the result of the sensual, I
contemplate the visible world, then this thought
takes powerful possession of my mind, that it is
impossible for the most artistic work to be at the
same time the most worthless and without design.

He only can, as a natural consequence, be dis-
posed to avoid all thoughts of the supersensual world,
who does not consider it as the product of the
sensual.

SPACE AND TIME.

As far as God is considered as standing in relation
to the world, thus far, but no further, must He be
considered as making space and time the sphere of
His activity.

According to Herbart space and time are only
"still forms of our conception."

4«

Existence as the existence of nothing, of nought,
of nullity = space; existence as non-existent, as null,
as negative = time.

The original dimensions of space are those of the
original figure, the sphere.

Space and time are the framework, the warp, into
which God weaves his K6a-fxo<i.

SPACE AND TIME.

129

Kd(r^09 = the nnivenitas rerum considered as the
product of design.

The saying, that whatever begins must end is
untrue. '

The idea of time does not in itself by any means
belong to the conception of growth. Growth is
being which exists under the form of causal relation.
This relation naturally involves the idea of design •
and more nearly, on the one hand, the idea of some
object of design, and, on the other, the realization of
this Idea. The being which is self-developed, which
is causa sui, must inevitably be considered as evistin-
under the form of growth. **

*
Matter is not equivalent to mass, which is already
a coucntum. The two are invariably confounded
when one gives to space and time an existence prior
to matter.^

The conception common to both space and time is
that of divided being. In space, the divisions of
time are considered as co-existent, existing along
with each other; in time, as successive, existing after
one another. Divided being = finite being. Existence
in space is non-self-cxistent as regards its idea, as

• Or when matter is defined as "space-filling substance,
which has as its essential characteristics weight and antitypy"
(W eisse : '• Philos. Dogmatik," ii., § i .9)

»3o

STILL fLOUJ?S.

f '

regards what it is ; existence in time is non-self-
existent as regards its actual existence, the reality
of what it is.

In the conception of matter as the simply non-
existent, i.e. the simply finite or divided being, lies
its infinite divisibility, because of its being divided j
and thus we reach the idea of the infinite divisibility
of space and time.

The finitiide, which belongs essentially to all
created being, necessarily implies that it (as being
made up of separate parts) exists in all its forms
(grades, kinds, species) in a multiplicity of separate
beings. As each of these separate beings has its
own peculiar and various conditions of origin and
existence, the many are at the same time dissimilar.

Even after the creature, in its perfected spirituality,
has attained to infinite being, it yet remains finite
because of its temporal origin, even setting aside the
fact that, according to its own conception, it can
never cease to be a divided and alterable being.

♦

That which is filled with divisible being (atoms) is
not empty space (Fichte : " Anthropologie," pp. 204-
206), but extended and animated space, or aether.

We are able indirectly to contemplate space by
contemplating those things which fill it, for every

SPACE AND TIME. ,3,

microscope shows the relativity ancT^^i^j^^ of
he laws of size in space ; but we cannot do this with
time, tor although certain things do fill time, yet
It cannot be thus contemplated; for in fining a
certain pomt of time they do not exclude each other,
as thmgs m space, relatively at least, always do.
Time must therefore be contemplated in its duration.

A beginning of time can be conceived of only in
space tlierefore only on the assumption of the
pnonty of space to time. But time and space are,

o haTf ""' """"'P'^' ™''"='y ™-^xistent

o that the one cannot be supposed to exist withou

the other. The same is true of the assumption of a
begmning of space.

Number (by means of motion) stands in the same
relation to fme as measure, figure, or size (by means
ofextension) stands to time.

Space : locality = figure. Time : measure = number.
Figure .s the original and most abstract form of the
Idea: number the original and most abstract form
of existence. The idea is the quale: existence is
he guantUM. Space can be defined only by figures
(the most simple is the point), time onlp by
numbers (the most simple is the zero).

The origin of a being can take place only in time.
If time does not exist, then there can be no existence

s lU

r i

%■

'32

STILL HOURS.

Of that Which has a beginning ; so that whatever part
of the world exists before time must be without
commencement. Only after time has come to have
an existence in the world are there creatures which
have a beginning.

Space divides the various forms of existence ; time
divides existence itself

Because space and time exist for God, therefore
they do not exist /;/ Him, nor He in them.

Only for the spirit space is no more a separating
barrier. Only as spirits can persons really dwell in
one another.

Mathematics are an essential part of the system of
philosophy.

Mathematics pre-suppose logic, but not vice versa.
Mathematics are a part of physics.

What logic is in the ideal, mathematics aie In the
real. The laws of nature are laws of logic.

Categories are those presuppositions of our con-
sciousness, by means of which the act of thinking as
such, apart from any given object of thought, is
rendered possible.

MWMta

SPIRIT.

Spirit exists only for spirit.

*
Spirit is not by any means, in its fundamental
conception, a personal, U a self-conscious and self-
active being ; but zvitlioiit personality, ie. self-con-
sciousness and self-activity, spirit cannot be ima-
gined.

The most striking proof of the reality of spirit is
the universal talk on the subject, while, at the same
time, hardly any one ever connects a real idea with
the word "spirit."

In the perfected spiritual world there are personal
potencies of dimensions, of which we, within the
range of our present experience, have no conception
whatever.

Even pure spirits in the purely immaterial world
must have an outward, in contrast to an inward, bein-
just as surely as the being of each several one in
spite of its pure spirituality, is finite, or limited' by
space.

Once for all, spirit cannot possibly be made.

In visible nature, if we advance from its lower to
its higher stages, we find that, on the one hand, the
Ideal factor, spirit, is always increasing, while, on the

ij.

■1 ..i

134

STILL HOURS.

! /

other hand, the real factor is continually decreasing.
At the summit we come to a purely ideal being,
to the ego as we may imagine it previous to moral
development.

There is no other created spirit except the moral
(morally determined).

Ought not the perfected spiritual mind, which has
become free .from the sensual, to comprehend the
sensual, and, indeed, to comprehend it as it truly
is ? '

While the spirit is at once both conceived being
and absolutely existent being, its very principle
excludes the possibility of its being potentia, ie.
conceived (possible) but not purely existent being.

Even material nature is essentially self-developed
and constantly self-developing; but spirit is de-
veloped both from without itself and from within
itself.

Is spirit in its fundamental idea simple? Certainly
it is indivisible, an aKaToXvTov.

Real spirit cannot become more than it is.

Spirit can originate only by self- conception and
self-realization.

SPIRIT.

n<>

Real spirit cannot be sensually affected, cannot
therefore be affected by anything sensual ; e.g. it is
impossible to alter or to spoil it.

In a tenable conception of spirit how can there be
any question of a "possible troubling and darkening
of the spiritual life, by means of the organic feelings
and sensations, impulses and desires " ? (Schenkel :
"Dogm.," ii., p. 340. Cf. Schenkel himself on this
very point, pp. 341, 342.)

Spirit and matter are alternative conceptions, so
that we cannot have a clear and distinct idea of the
one without the other.

Spirit is the only being which possesses value in
itself, because it alone is self-developed.

The word "spiritual," as distinguished from the
immaterial, means spirit considered as not morally
developed— a'kind of spirit which certainly does not
exist in the creature.

Spirit in its fundamental principle is absolutely
penetrable, manifest to others, self-communicable ; i.e.
it is light. As an absolutely existing idea, spirit is
clearly conceivable by others.

!!?*

iLlMiK

136

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STILL HOURS.

CREATION OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT.

The ruling conception of the human spirit in our
theology, although our dogmatists do not appear to
be conscious of it. is unquestionably emanative, purely
created, and not as they pretend, creative. We may
easily conceive to what serious consequences such a
confusion of ideas may lead.

*
He who considers that the human spirit was
directly created must necessarily consider it as mere
nature ; for, so considered, it is of course merely a
conceived and posited being.

*
If matter, the contrary of God, has yet, m the
personal creature, come to be in some sense analogous
to God, then the personal creature itself becomes thus
the contrary of matter, and the contrary of nature so
far as nature is material.

*
Even the creation of nature, in each of its several
kingdoms, passed through stages of deformity Why
then should it be thought unworthy of God to
suppose that the like took place in the creation of
man?

If it belongs to the very conception of creation to
be a development of matter, itself primarily cr ated
by God, then we do not cast the slightest aspersion
on the Creator by saying that He made man at first

CREATION OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT.

merely natural (i Cor. xv. 47), and. in'^i^U^el^
s age of his development, necessarily sinful ; for this
stage of the creature's development could not be
overleaped any more than another, if true develop,
ment was to subsist. Only, we must remember that
.t was merely temporary, and destined to be abolished
in the further progress of creative work.

*
Nothing which is imperfect, which is not abso-
lutely good, can be original or causa sui ; but must
m some respect, at least, have been originated by
another. •'

behlborf °"' ^'"' ''^"'■"""^"■""^ °f 'h= will cannot

*
Created spirit can be conceived of only as an ideal
and yet real l^ing, wliose reality is the proper act of
.ts .deahty , only in such a being can its being so, that
.s .ts having spiritual existence, have any value. Only
when the spiritual being has been developed, not
by the mere thought and action of another, but bv
'ts own personal thought and action, can it be no't
merely spiritual nature, but also a spiritual ego,
therefore a sp.ntual person or personal spirit. Even
the natural ego is not the result of the direct thought
and acfon of another, but is developed by its otn
thought and action, building on the foundation of its
natural disposition, which is undoubtedly the creation
of another. Hence a natural ego. strictly so called

f. !

I *-

J3S

STILL HOURS.

does not exist; but as far as it is actu present, it is
also spiritual, developed by its own thought and its
own action.

How impossible it is to conceive the created spirit
as developed by a direct and therefore pure decree of
God, is clearly shown in the everywhere apparent
tendency of our theologians to consider it as pro-
ceeding from God;s oivn being, therefore as emana»
tive.

Wherever and under whatever circumstances any
good can be developed from the personal creature,
there, by means of His own holiness, must God
develop it.

If God could have created man in a state of direct
moral goodness, then He could have restored sinful
man directly, i.e. by magic, to the same state of moral
excellence. The pity is, that in both instances the
moral quality would be wanting to the man who had
thus become good !

^ If we wish with full assurance to recognise the
highest good in man, then we must at the same time
acknowledge that it grows up in him out of the low
and the sensual, to the honour of the Creator's
wisdom.

If man, by a direct creative action oj God, has

CREATION OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT.

»39

become m reality "a being akin to Him " (Schenkel :
Dogmatik," ii.. {., pp. i53_i59)^ ^hen he can claim
no real kinship to God at all ; for such a being only
can be akin to God which has itself become what it
IS ; what is actu akin to God must be self-developed.

Can it be seriously demanded (Schenkel : " Do^-
matik," ii., i., pp. 154^ 156^ that the human individual
shall be a creature of God in a different sense from
the mdividual of any other species of organic crea-
tures ?

*
If we are to grant that an adequacy of the creature
for God may exist, on account of which He can love
It, then, since God exists of Himself alone, the crea-
ture which exists, not of itself, but entirely of God
must become developed by its own means. There-
fore the merely natural creature always remains
foreign to God, who can dwell in none but the
persona! creature.

If God had wished to make of the creature merely
an impersonal plaything, not an object of His love
then undoubtedly it need not have passed through
the discipline of evil.

The only true power of self-determination is that
which has determined iiself to be so. But in that
case the creature, to whom it belongs, cannot have
been endowed at its creation with this self^determin-

I >

'I
I

,■■:

il .

140

STILL HOURS.

ing power. Only such a being can determine itself
to be a power of self-determination.

The difficulties which surround the assumption
that sin was appointed by God in His scheme of
the world may be very ea.'u'ly explained when the
circumstances are correctly represented. God traces
out in (i priori thought the netessi ry course of crea-
tion, and because, according to its conception, the
personal, spiritual world, which is its aim and object,
cannot be otherwise realized than through stages of
smful personal creatures, with material organisms
and animal propensities, therefore He expressly gives
a place to these stages in His plan of the world ; but,
like all mere means to an end (which, as being only
means, are conceived as not definitive), they are just
as expressly meant to be abolished.

*
A real unity of idea and existence, ix. spirit,
cannot be achieved otherwise than by means of these
themselves. It cannot be accomplished by the inter-
vention of any third influence exercised outside of *
them, for in that case the unity would be merely
outward, not truly inward. Consequently, {a) the
idea must place existence in absolute unity with it-
self; or {b) existence must place the idea in absolute
unity with itself; or {c) each must place the other in
absolute unity with itself. Of these, however, b is
clearly inconceivable, because existence as such can-
not create an idea, cannot therefore place it in unity

__ CREATION OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT. ,4,

With itself; and for the sam^T^^^;;;;;^;;;;;;;;;^

mposs,ble. A, on the contrary, is quite conceivable,
If the Idea ,s supposed to be. on the one hand, self-
conceiving, and on the other, self-reah-zing. Spirit
can originate in a being only by means of its own con-
ception and its own realization. Only the elements
of the creature's spirit can thus be divinely created ;
the sp,nt Itself must be produced from these elements
by the creature itself alone. For only by the crea-
ture Itself can these elements be truly woven into
one another, because this can be done only by its
personal thought and action (not by those of another).

*
Self-consciousness does not mean that we are of
ourselves conscious of the matter in question, but
that we are conscious of that matter, whatever it may
be. thmtgk ourselves, in an active, not a passive
acceptation. From this self-consciousness alone it
follows that the conscious being can also be con-
scious of ttself; U can distinguish itself from its
consciousness. The same is true of self-activity. and
this indeed is in keeping with our common mode of
speech Only as far as the active being is active
through itself, can it direct its activity tozvards itself.
Because the soul (the soul's life) is self-conscious and
self-active, therefore it is also self-determined : it is
ego, t.e. It is personal ; personality belongs to it.
This ego, although it is essentially the union of self-
consciousness and self-activity (it results from these

two factDrq^i I'c irof =.-,.-..^^i.' i!_ 1- .. . .,

two factors), is yet essentially distinct ft

om both, and

.''

t ti «

142

STILL HOURS.

indeed is so by virtue of these themselves, because as
self-consciousness it acts upon itself as self-activity,
and vice versd.

Perception = thinking directed towards a given
object; moral formation or culture = volition directed
towards a given object. Pure thinking is thinking
vyhich originates the thought out of itself; pure voli-
tion is volition which originates the deed out of itself.
The former produces from itself the world of its
thoughts ; the latter, in the same way, the world of
its actions. The one is speculative thinking; the
other autonomic volition. The speculative thinker,
when placed in a world, understands it of himself,
as it ought to be understood ; the autonomic wilier
forms it to himself, as it ought to be formed. The
first is the man of reason ; the second the free man.
The pure ideas of the former find everywhere objects
which correspond to them, and the same is true of
the pure acts of volition of the latter. So far we
may say of the true speculator and autonomist, i.e. •
of the true man of reason and the true free man,
that he himself, thinking and realizing, creates his
own outer world, both ideal and real. On this point
rests the possibility of an active agency without the
intervention of material senses and powers. The
true speculator and autonomist is therefore adapted
to every sphere of activity; he understands (per-
ceives) them all correctly, and he deals with them or
morally forms them all rightly.

'43

That the spirit of the cre^i^j^T^v^^Ti^^T^iZed

st.7f -t"";."" '^ •'™'"'^^'' "y '"^ Create ™
seIf^os.ted be.n,, therefore only by the intervenLn

aniy belongs to the conception of spirit as he e"

merely relative, un.on, as distinguished from mere
connect,on between any idea and existence caTbe

:::"■ atrr'^"^^"""^ ■•"- »*i„g itse;!",'!

ence , namely, by a rational realization. Only from
w.h.„, ... only of itself, by its own rational T
-ahzafon, can existence be given to an idea m su h
a way that a real union of both shall result it ca„
never come from without, therefore ne" 'by he
thought and action of another. Such another couM

n r sTn':: ' 'TT ''''-'- "- -^ - -

.n r^'aterial ! '"'^' ">" ^'^"'"^ "'■"'^^If does

rerture do" \'"' "' °" '"^ °"'"' '^^ P-sonal
creature does in his arts and manufactures B„f

God can therefore create the spiritual creaf„r.
on y indirectly, by creating a material creat rfw ch

tant ":!"" V: °'^'"''^'' "•^' '' - able to t^ns b
stantiate .tself from materiality into spirituality • or
m other words, to spiritualize itself. To this idea' the
personal creature corresponds. '

■

1 ;

1^ .'

■ 1

J .

.•?■'

'1 ;

'44

STILL HOURS.

LIFE {LIGHT).

Light is the concrete form in which h'fe exists in
God. Light is existence and idea in absolute iden-
tity. Therefore h'ght is the concrete form of spirit as
such, as impersonal. Matter as such is therefore, as
the opposite of spirit, death, and in concrete, darkness.
Light IS the principle which generates life, especially
in created nature. {Cf. Luke ii. 36.)

' *

Spirit as such, as impersonal, is light and life
Personality is absolutely centralized life and light.

*
Spirit is in concreto life and light. It embraces
the two in absolute identity It is living light and
lummous life. It belongs to the conception of light
to be also life.

That which in its form is life is in its matter light ;
i£. spirit is formally life, materially light.

*
_ The concrete identity of light and life shows itself
in the fact, that the outward expression of both, while
yet material, is heat.

ON MAN.

:j -

■ i
■1

V. ON MAN.

MAN AND MANKIND.

The thought of being a man is indescribably
solemn, and fitted to produce a feeh'ng of awe.

*
What a curious creature is man, a being who must
rack h,s brains in order to discover what he him-
self IS !

Man is the only creature which, as created, does
not correspond to its own conception, and which is
therefore self-contradictory. This self-contradiction
IS necessary, because it lies in the principle of man's
bemg to become conformable to his conception only
by his own personal action.

Man is the earthly microcosm only in his having

spread himself fully out over the entire globe, so that

the totality of all his peculiar attributes, and all his

atent Ideas and forces, are reflected and actualized in

the whole human race.

The being of man is no mere " mode of existence,"

Ir fr ^

t ' \

148

STILL HOURS.

but a specifically determined being, to which a " modt
of existence," of one kind or another, belongs.

It is undoubtedly a pressing necessity for the theo-
logy of the present day, unless it is to degenerate into
silly prattle about piety, to acknowledge that it dis-
tinctly assumes that man is a product of nature, that
he is creatively produced.

Our "scriptural" theologians expressly acknow-
ledge that "man did not originally occupy the higher
stage of development, which has for its distinctive
mark a conscious separation between good and evil,
but had to attain this stage by means of the tree of
the knowledge of good and evil." Yet, in spite of
this, they also maintain that God held with our first
parents in Paradise "a continuous spiritual and corpo-
real intercourse, and that they were conscious of their
undisturbed communion with God"; that "their
will rested in the will of God, and was in perfect har-
mony with it, not merely unconsciously and instinc-
tively, but consciously and knowingly," that "their
primary condition was not childlike, in the sense that
their communion with God had first to be entered
into, but that they were rather in conscious unity with
their Creator God." They even go as far as to add
distinctly, "But we must not forget, that the first
human beings did not enter this condition by any
inward development, but found themselves already

MAM AIVD MANKIND.

_ '49

existing in it, j„3t as th^y"h^cr!^f^^ir^o7's

Humanity in its sum total is itself a mere indivi-
dual as compared with the personal creature as such.
It IS the personal creature in its specific determination
as an earthly creature.

Af • -ds the question, as to whether the human
race .. .o.ends from one pair or from several, we must
not overlook the fact that the latter idea may be
understood in very different senses, according as we
consider the several pairs as of one and the same
kmd, or of different kinds. The latter would then
be considered as indicating the different stages by
means of which the idea of a creation of man has
been gradually realized.

The unity of the human race is founded, quite
independently of the unity of our first parents, in
the unity of the conception of man.

If in the created universe the earlier generations
were not considered as always lower m the scale of
being than those which follow, then its happiness
could not be infinitely increasing.

*
The more intimately I come to know a man the
more honourable does he usually appear to me.

i^i r

iiS- I

) s

ISO

STILL HOURS.

There is no doubt that God must first have a real
man, before He can make him a child of God.

MAN AND ANIMAL.
Even the animal exercises a moulding influence
upon nature, but only in an individual manner. It
can only assimilate it to itself, but has no power to
make or produce anything from it. The same is true
ot Its understanding.

*
Very instructive, as regards the relation of the per-
sonahty to the soul, is the fact that the animal, in the
gratification of its desires, never transgresses the
proper bounds, which man often does. Man, being
^^ego can excite his own impulse at will, while the
animal is only excited by its impulse, and the ex-
citing impulse naturally disappears as soon as the
n-npulse is gratified.

*
It is a very common error to confound the ego
with the soul, an error which {e.g. in Lotze's works)
has a most confusing result. But how comes a con-
fusion like this to be possible in presence of the little
fact that there is such a thing as an animal-soul ?

In the animal sphere there exists as yet no
definite contrast between the soul, which rises above
matter, and the nature, which is in direct union with
It. For this reason the soul of the animal is entirely

MAN AND ANIMAL.

iSi

under the power of its nature ; but this is, at the
oame tim'-, the sustaining power, which preserves
to the nature its own proper character-the power
which we call instinct.

*
In spring the toads, frogs, and reptiles come out •
even this is a sign that a new spirit of life is at work
in nature.

In dreams we are conscious passively and actively •
our experiences in dreams may perhaps become an
important key to the knowledge of the soul-life of
animals.

*
In sleep the animal sinks back into the plant, into
the process of vegetation ; the personal therefore falls
back into the material or impersonal, in order to
gather thence new powers of existence (which by
Its special animal process are being constantly ex-
hausted).! The particular being sinks back into the
general process of nature, there to acquire new
nourishment, because of itself, as a particular being.
It has. as yet, no principle of existence, seeing that It
IS not yet real spirit. Sleep, therefore, like nourish-
ment, is a condition of the existence of every
individual, of every animal which has not yet become
real spirit. The plant sleeps continually, as the

J It is here evident that the course of animal existence is a
continuous subhmat.on of matter into the animal, a transforma-
.on of matter, of the real into the ideal. Only ii man doe X
true idealization take place.

f'\

'52

STILL HOURS.

animal does before, and in the first period after, its
birth.

In the animal the real self-comprehensiveness of
the mdividual is first achieved, but only as self-
exclusion and self-reserve, for the animal cannot love.

The expression of the animal in death is difierent
from that of man.

So far as man is concerned, the anima belongs to
material nature as it lies unaffected by human in-
fluences. It has itself a claim on nature only as far
as nature is morally raw matewal, not on nature as
cultivated by man.

SOUL AND BODY.

Life is the harmonious unity of contrasts Its
condition is therefore the oneness of soul and body
for the body is for the soul the condition of the'
diastole and systole of being, on which life depends.

*
According to Mor. Will,. Drobisch (" Empirische
I'sychologie nach naturwissenschaftlicher Methode"
p. i6: Leipzig, 1842), it is a "frequently noted fact
that we find the full use of the mental powers exist-
ing up to the end of life, along with an almost
entirely ruined brain."

SOUL AND BODY.

'53

That which in the moral process we understand by
the process of spirituah-zation is the so-called organism
of the inner nature ; />. the psychical, the directly
causal substratum of the ego. The soul Isedel be-
comes the organism of a spiritual nature-a spiritual
animated {besecltl body.

*
The mass of spirit-elements, which is the result
of the moral process of the individual, is styled a
spiritual body, only on account of its absolute organi-
zation, i.e. its absolutely unique construction. But
the possibility of this presupposes the really perfected
p .rsonahty of the constructing individual, for only
in this case would it be in itself an absolute unity.
That which here opposes the organic unity is in
concrete the fact that, along with the good and there-
fore essentially real spirit, is blended spirit which is
not yet good, and therefore not yet essentially real
There must therefore be a separation of the latter
t.e. a regeneration, which purifies it from all material
elements, and changes it into good, and therefore also
into essentially real, spirit.

The soul, or more nearly the personality, is to all
etermty only the result of the vivifying functions of
man s nature, or more particularly of his body. This
IS true of the spiritual man, just as implicitly as of
the natural. That the soul is essentially the same
as Its body is quite as true a saying as the reverse,
like soul, like body.

\AM

1 1

i|iii'

m\\

Ml
fi 'if

IS4

ST/ZL HOURS.

A soul and a body (an animated \bescelt\ body)
must be necessary to the natural organism which
corresponds to the ego, because the soul in itself is
only inwardly the instrument ol its activity ; in order
to outward activity the body is required.

*
The probable reason why our common mode of
speech (in almost every language) refers the moral
life of man, individually considered, to the heart is
that this organ is the centre of the action of the blood
the original basis of the material animal life.

*
As long as we have a conception of the spirit
which excludes nature from it, it must be quite im-
possible for us to imagine a purely spiritual being
and life of man, and consequently to imagine a living
and personal God as purely spiritual. For even the
most spiritual functions of the ego, its absolute think-
mg and absoi.te willing, are themselves limited by
the possesion of an organism which does not itself
think and will, which is therefore essentially a nature.

*
In an organism (structure of members) "everything
exists for the sake of one, and each separate member
for the sake of all » (Kant: " Kritik des reinen Vern "
Vorr. 2ur 2 Aufl.). Each constituent part of the
organism has « a life for itself, only because it exists
m the whole" (Vetter: -Lehre von chr. Cultus"
p. 192).

SOUL AND BODY.

155

The process of appropriation is specifically the
process of life preservation. For material nature is
said to come into possession of itself as an individual,
as the organism of its own personality, even to bring
out its own life, which actually consists in the per-
sonality finding itself in possession of an organism.

*
For the personal creature in its particular sphere,
outward nature must finally cease ; it must be entirely
appropriated as the creature's own organism. In the
same way no outward nature exists for God within
the circle of His immanent being. The doctrine of
the final destruction of our earthly nature is therefore
perfectly unassailable. A spiritual nature cannot be
conceived of as outward, for a real idea, or an ideal
existence, is conceivable only in a thinking or, speak-
ing generally, only in a personal being.

The peculiar organ for self-activity is the system of
gangha; for self-consciousness, the central system.
Both these systems are organically united, and exist,*
although in different degrees, in each other.

*
Physiologically, the brain is the principle of the
universal side of man's nature; the heart, that of the
individual. Self-consciousness and self-activity pro-
ceed equally from both these organs. (?)

*
In the course of the physical process of life, the
head, or brain, gradually appropriates to itself ali the

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STILL HOURS.

life-spirit left over by the other organs (nervous fluid,
etc., as it is not unfitly called). (.?) Just as the God-
Man appropriates to Himself all the qualities proper
to humanity.

In the front of the brain our knowledge is wrought
into shape ; in the rear, it is kept in store.

Our sensual organs— even the finest— are instru-
ments for the production of the spiritual man, and
nothing more. Of the product itself, of spiritual
human nature (which is itself a complex of organs,
but, be it observed, of spiritual organs), nothing what-
ever is transmitted to them.

Not matter, not substance in any sense, is the
essential point in the body, but form, the perfected
organization of matter.

*
Spirit, according to its very conception, cannot
degenerate into matter ("become extinct," "sleep,"
and so forth) ; but matter may very well be elevated
into spirit.

" The soul of man gives evidence of its natural
being by existing i before it is conscious of itself, and
before it wills" (Gess. : "Die Lehre von der Person
Christ!," p. 189).

' But can this be said of the soul as personal ?

SOUL AND BODY.

The most striking proot that there can be no life
for the ego without a natural organism is found in
sleep. It rests on the fact that our sensual natural
organism withdraws itself for a time from our ego,
and lives for itself alone, a plant-life, in which the
plastic process carries on its work.^

" All that slumbers in man is never awake at once "
(Schaller : « Psychol.," i., p. 320).

"Man is at every moment infinitely more than he
knows" (Ebrard; "Dogmatik," ii., p. 319; cf. p. 355).

*
The ego occurs only as " I am conscious," or " I
will " (I am active).

All human functions, which may be replaced by
machinery, arc only sensual functions.

In the organism matter is completely determined
as a norm {Cf. Schelling, i. 5, p. 337). in it form is
one with matter and has passed over into it.

The "direct object" of our subject is our own
natural organism, our own animated body (Schopen-
hauer). This is equally true both of the conscious
and the active object.

• Cf. Schaller, «PsychoIo£ie," i.,pp. 292, 296, 300, 301, 321, seq.

«S8

S7ILL HOURS.

As regards the dispute between G. E. Rahl and
his opponents as to whether, in organic generation
and nourishment, the real active agent is the " soul "
or the "vital force" (Fichte : "Anthropologic," pp.
275-277). we need simply notice the fact that the
"soul " and the "vital force " are not different things,
but that the soul is merely the specifically animal
vital force. {Cf. Fichte, pp. 439, etc., 480.)

Every part of an organism is at once means and
end.

That is a strange thoughtlessness which supposes
that the word "sensuality" can have reference only
to functions of the body, not also to functions of the
soul.

What Baader calls the kindling of the wheel of
Ixion in the creature's life, is the awaking of the
autonomy of the material life of the creature. {Cf. ii.,
p. loi, etc.)

Vitality in general depends on the union of the
individuality with a natural organism.

Hands are worth more than wings.

It is a thoroughly human idea not to allow one's
beard to grow, for the beard evidently lessens the
space left free for involuntary mimicry, for the

PERSONALITY.

159

direct representation to one's self of the individual
life of the soul.

A man may well v/jnde. when he considers how
even the individual )r«aniza.ion of his body stands
in definite teleolog.raj rela: on to the individual
spiritual development ju i task in life assigned him
by the Creator.

PERSCNALITY.

Personality is the first example of true individuality,
—totality in itself, existence of the universal in the
non-universal, of the absolute in the relative, of the
infinite in the finite. Therefore it first is true self-
determination, self-dependence, independence as re-
gards the complex of relative or finite existence
immortality. '

In the personal individual as a totality the universe
is individually reflected. In this consists its self-
dependence, and its power of making itself relatively
the central point of the universe.

In the origin of the human individual there is no
doubt that the blended individualities of the two
individuals which generate it are the factors of its
formation. But the conjunction of these factors is
the result of the expressly determining influence of
the creative function of God, so that the peculiar
formation of their product is the work of God. On

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this depends the essential truth of creationism, which
does not however necessarily exclude the idea of
traducianism.i

As the absolute centrality, /... as being the ideal
point, the personality remains everywhere similar to
similar ^' ^" "mathematical points are absolutely

Man is the only animal creature who has power

1, h . ' •"""■ ""' ""'"''^ ^"^'^ ■""--tar,
a.ms, but an a.m in life, and, as this itself implies to
keep that aim before hi,n as his one aim. and to
reahze .t entirely of himself. This is important as
touching the question of man's immortality

^ The person alone, as distinguished from the thin.'
IS an end to itself, because it alone is able to refer
Itself to Itself as an end.

*
Human individuals are not Helots of the universal
moral end ; their individual moral end has the same
rights as the universal,

The possibility of free self-determination rests on

the d.stmr' separation between the personality and

■ts organism, by means of which it receives on both

sides nnpressions from without, and the distinct

PERSONALITY.

l6i

opposition of the former to the latter. But in an
organism, we have to think, not merely of its out-
ward and material, but also of its inward pirts, con-
sidered as in process of spiritualization.

*
Life is the growth of a being by means of itself.
Therefore in it growth is indissolubly united with
being. ^

According to Schelling, (in his "Treatise on the
Nature of Human Freedom,") personality rests on
the union of a self-dependent being with a basis
which is independent of him, the union being effected
in such a way that the elements interpenetrate each
other, and thus form only one being.

*
We ought not to say, The ego cannot perfect
itself otherwise than on the assumption of an oppos-
ing non-ego; but rather, The ego cannot be perfected
without placing a non-ego in opposition to itself.

*
The ego is the resumption into a unity of what is
in itself a multiplicity ; a being which, as multiplicity,
stands opposed to itself as unity. The multiplicity
which we presuppose in the ego must therefore be
purely organic. The condition, we may call it the
absolutely universal condition, of the ego (true of the
absolute being as well as of the finite) is therefore
the existence of an organism and a centre of life in
the being, the separation of soul and body. The
body is that other, in contrast to which alone the

162

opposed to it. ^ ^"'^^ >s

^J^he person is the concrete unity of personality and

background "^ "'"' '° '"^ ~'°"'°f ''' 2™eral

.ofaroCtrpronif'': '-- °- - -°

description ^ay^SrrofHlsTete^^r"'^

ment .ust b'e brfuj^t S .Jt^ ■"""' '^^""''■

protc:d:ltb;te°''^^^ ='"''-•='--- be
-d action givtt^/V'r^'- "^ °™ thought
fluence can frJ f th^un tT t' ""^ ""'" '"'
which is self-produced ^' """^ ''' """>-

_^ _ PERSONALITY. jg^

selves otherwise than we are of all surro^m^
objects. We are conscious of ourselves, not because
our consciousness is of a different nature from that
of those beings who are never conscious of them-
selves (although this is undoubtedly the case), but
because there exists in us a self, an ego, which our
consciousness perceives as its object.

Man, because he is an ego, can turn his soul
against itself.

The self is named ego = ego, a reflexion of the
bemg on itself and in itself; and these two forms of
reflexion are the presuppositions of distinctions in
the being.

^ How strange and confused, as well as confusing
IS the opposition between the "reason" and the
"heart"! ^

In reason understanding and emotion are united.

Even the natural ego is not merely created by the
direct thought and action of another, but it becomes
an ego only by means of its own thou-ht and action
working on the foundation of its natural disposition'
which IS undoubtedly the creation of another. A
strictly so called natural ego does not therefore exist
but as far as it is actn present, it is also spiritual'
under process of development by its own thought
and action. **

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STILL HOUliS.

AFFECTION AND TEMPESAMENT

Affection, in the widest sense of the word is
always a heightened vivacity of the individual ;
dete™,„ed self-consciousness, or sensation, exerci d
■n such a way that the universally determined self,
conscousness, or reason, cannot for the moment
preserve .ts true equilibrium, and therefore for the
moment, falls back powerless, unable to r s st the

pressure brought to bear upon it. ,t is theref'rl ov
pleasure) or pain (displeasure) which has eZed

for the moment, from the companionship of ea!o''
he occasion being the unexpected strength of the

outward .mpression. But if the affection I of noble

nature, there lies, even in this overpowering emot o

of rea on. the repression of it would therefore be

wLrr^o^ i;:r.? r"- "'"•'^"-■

is really passion " "°' P'^^^"'' ^'^^'^"•<'"

Affection in its natural crudeness. while not vet
rendered ethical, is a condition in ;hich the „'d
V d„a has lost control of himself. Affection becomes
etlucal when, on the one hand, the sens^.ion whW
m ,t passes over into impulse, and, on the other han
the .mpulse mto which the sensation passes over, are
b<^h rendered distinctly ethical; U when the fo m
IS definitely posited as emotion, the laicer as desire

AFFECTION AND TEMPERAMENT.

'65

Since the fall, men have always existed inT^c
of relative affection. The sensual impression is
always disproportionately strong for the feeble
energy of our self-consciousness. Hypochondria is
the natural disease of fallen man.

*
Affectibility (excitability) and receptibiJity are not
.denfca . Tiie latter is a more particular dete..-ina.
non of the former.

*
Emotion is always self-emotion ; but at the same
trnie there is no pure self-emotion.

*
Sensation is always comprised within the boun-
danes either of pleasure or of pain. The same is true
of moral sensation, i.e. emotion. Emotion, when
determmed as pleasure, is joy; determined as pain
It IS sadness. The animal, and the child in its earliest
days, know neither joy nor sadness.

It is noteworthy that emotions, even when they
are true elevations of spirit, find vent in tears thus
expressing themselves by an obstruction of our
sensual life.

*
Of tlie four temperaments, the phlegmatic and
cho er,c belong to the Jde of self-activity, the melan-
chohc and the sanguine to that of self-consciousness.
On the other hand, the phlegmatic and melancholic
temperaments have their root in a specific dep,

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STILL ROUPS.

sion ; the choleric and the sanguine in a specific
irntability, characterising the person to whom they
belong. Directly, of course, temperament, are at-
tached only to the natural side of ^he individual,
therefore only to its individual attributes To .Mte
the n.itter more precisely, the choleric and phieg-
matic ue attached t.> impulse, the melancholic and
the sangunie to .sensation. The more powerfully mind
and strenrHi, the universal side of the personality,
are ui tiie ascendant, the more does the influence of
temperament recede into the background. Cn oppo-
sition to temperament, we find a special need for the
exercise of self-control. {Cf. Wirth : "Spec. Ethik."
11., p. 24, etc.) Affections are specifically related to
the temperaments, for temperament is the natural
foundation of affection. For the specific preponde-
ranee of one separate factor of the natural personality
predisposes the disturbance of the equilibrium amon-
the functions of that personality.

Excessively depressed receptivity (with self-con-
sciousness) is stupidity ; excessively excited recep-
tivity ,s levity or distraction : excessively depressed

spontaneity (with self-activity) is languor or I Wness •

excessively excited spontaneity is hastiness vio'
ence. Therefore stupidity belongs to t'-^ m< i ..cholic
emperament. ?V.olity to the sanguin.. .a.u,ess to

the phlegmatic, and hastiness or violence to the

choleric.

AFFECTION AND TEMPERAMENT.

167

If self-consciousness is so depressed that it cannot
appeal to self-activity, then there arises fear ; but if
it is so irritated or excited that the activity which it
then appeals to with immoderate force cannot be
made use of as j^^-activity, then the result is rage.

As in the phlegmatic temperament there already
exists a natural depression of the self-activity, it is
specially predisposed to fear, and as in the choleric
temperament there already exists a natural irritation
or excitement of the self-activity, it is specially pre-
disposed^ to rage. On the other hand, we may say
that, as in the sanguine man there already exists a
natural irritation or excitement of the self-conscious-
ness, this cannot easily be so deeply depressed as to
hinder the work of self-activity, and he is therefore
decidedly predisposed to fearlessness ("sanguine
hope ") ; and as in the phlegmatic man there already
exists a natural depression of the self-activity, this
cannot easily be so excessively irritated or excited
as to prevent its finding expression for itself in real
self-activity, and in this way the man of a phlegmatic
temperament is decidedly indisposed to anger (the
" lazy, peaceful, patient phlegm ").

Fear and anger are affections of temperament.
When regarded as moral, the former is timidity or
meekness, the latter indignation (the so-called noble
anger). Even timidity or meekness and indignation
are certainly only sensual affections ; but the sensual

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of the „„„h7 „ . P"™"3l"y. or more exactly,
u de r ^^ °' "'' ""^^-'-"ding,, and

"eyond the,r own control, like fear and fury.

evct t' '',f °""''^'' '"■''^'^"'■'y °f the self-activit-
even the sclf-consciousness may be easily brouMu

iMrr'-t^'f =" "' ^'"''^ condition "d
. « .«.<f, so ,„ the choleric temperament there is

of the se iV: ^ivity te" rhe' IT °' '"'' "^"^"^■^

fans into a statetr.a "g z:'"::;::""^ r"^

ture of the melancholic, and vice versd.

PPl' ■^*''

o.h!r" t[fe r"' '""' '"P^" '° "= ?=•""<=' to each
what Ih atf " " """'"^ -If-consciousness,

Habit is the beginning of freedom, memory the
beg,n„,ngof reason; education must t eref^re bel

sensual mechan.cal appropriations of nature to the
personally. They belong to the formation of tie

MEMORY.

169

physical organism, therefore to the side of indi-
viduah'ty.

As regards imagination {biUen) and perception,
the former is the positing of the conceived image,
the latter the conception or observation of the posited
image, the former distinction, the latter resumption
of the image. All perception is remembrance of
the outward, all imagination an expression of the
inward.

Imagination is a reception of consciousness into
existence ; perception, a reception of existence into
consciousness.

Memory in its perfection is reason ; habit in its
perfection is freedom. All thinking is recollection,
reflection ; every act of freedom bears the stamp of
involuntariness, of having become a second nature.

*
A scientific mind with a bad memory is a prince
without land and people.

*
Good powers of thought with a poor memory are
like a great prince on the throne of a duodecimo
province.

*
A good memory forgets nothing, but gathers up all
kmds of knowledge, even trumpery and rubbish ; the
most crude ideas are as firmly fixed in it as the
essence of the purest conceptions.

I70

STILL HOURS.

11 li

'^i!rtl '""^ ''''^'"^ ^°^^^ °^ ^'^^"Sht may be
n.ted by the possession ; f a . .. head "

head."

A man of poor memory must of necessity turn his
Tund m upon itself.

He whose memory is bad remains, in spite of all

Good capacity for thought with a hopelessly oad
memory ,s a labour of Sisyphus.

A man witl, a bad memory is literally a/.„. man.

ta^^th^rr-"'"^ ' ''''' "''™°^^ ^"J'-y^ "'- advan-
tage tha he » not melined o let his thoughts linger

much ,„ the p„,t.-an idle occupation for a man :.n.
Z^v^'TT '■'"'"'f'-^-^ i^ always disposed,
to reach forth to those that are before.

The memory is most sc' connected v ih the

rri^e:"''''"^='"^''="'---^^°^-''°-He;

fo^u'^f •"T"''^ ■'" '■" P'^y^'''^^' aspect corresponds
to short-s,ghtedness in the bodily organism or'n its
somatic aspect.

C/iCri- OF MIND.

»7i

'il

C/i^r.? OF MIND.

A man nidy have a very large head, and at the
same time a very small mind.

A "bad " head is not necessarily a narrow-minded
one.

It is no great trial to be poorly endowed with
abilities, unless we are placed in an office in which
better talents are required.

Can the narrow-minded man really not see beyond
bis barriers t He certainly cannot /^j^ beyond them,
but - may very well look beyond them, i.e. acknow-
ledge hat they are his barriers.

He to whom gifts for some great work have been
denied ought to try to use the gifts he has to the
best possible advantage, though he may work only
in the narrowest circle,

The correlative to the idea is the " original." It is
a product of a universal formative faculty, for it may
be copied, and is intended to be copied ; but it is, at
the same time, in its specific origin and perfection,
entirely peculiar to Hs originator, and belongs dis-
tinctly to him, and is thus a product of an individual
formative faculty. It is also undoubtedly transfer-
able.

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STir.r. HOURS.

p M
1:1

•hat is of mt va.r A ' 7'* ^"'"''' ^-"=" «*-
'/'««/. muS seek -tt 1"'"' "'"'* ''^ ""'■^'"•"■"' ■•«
ledge. '"^'•>' ■" ""= ^'""''^ of its know-

.HaTt^eS,e^rtor H^-' '^'"^ ^'■—
Which ,ie fa^LyonAt Z^Z^T^ """«^

The insufficiency of his own ««

GREAT AND SMALL.

most central organs, and with the more peripheric
only at their utmost need. The work of life must be
hard indeed for such.

GREAT AND SMALL.

We become aware how merely relative are all our
conceptions of great and small, not only when we
compare what is called great amongst us with the
infin.tely greater, but even more strikingly when we
come to perceive how great that always is in itself,
which to our conception seems infinitely little.

That man is in a peculiarly difficult position in
whose character great and small exist together With
his poor means he cannot attain the great desire that
floats before his mind, and yet, by virtue of his great-
ness, he sees with pain how small are the attainments
which these poor means can achieve.

A right feeling man cannot bear to hear the small
called great, any mere than he can bear to hear the
great called small, especially as regards himself.

A man who can distinguish between great and
small will never put on airs of consequence in his
course through life.

However much of a pessimist you may be, at least
never re nquish this belief: that in all circumstances,

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174

STILL HOURS.

a man who, with pure and honest heart, devotes his
lite to some good object, can accomph'sh great things.

_ Considered as an attribute of the finite, greatness
IS a hm.tation, just as much is h'ttleness. All quan-
tity IS hmitation, as a negative attribute of existence;
while quality, as an affirmative attribute of the ideal.
IS the opposite of limitation.

STRENGTH AND WEAKNESS.

The organs of the mind are at the same time
organs of strength.

Vices of strength find ready indulgence, but not
so those of weakness.

Every one speaks according to his understanding
and understands according to his experience.

It is strange that men should marvel and be ex,
cessively astonished, when anything transcends their
thought They must surely mean their powers of
mental representation.

Every one knows that depressing surroundings in
our outward lives bring in their train deformities of
at least the outward side of the character. In our
judgment of others we must therefore remember that
here on earth we are all in depressed circumstances.

CONSCIENCE.

175

Lifted out of these and placed in a larger air, men's
characters will expand differently, and their real
nature will then appear, for the first time, in its true
light, to the great advantage of very many.

There are people, who live only on what others
leave them over of life.

^ In the interest of the weak themselves, it is en-
joined that the strong should not treat them with
undue consideration. Where this is done, they make
no progress ; on the contrary, they fall behind. The
ground on which they stand inevitably breaks away
beneath them, and there is then no new ground, on
which they can plant their feet in safety.

CONSCIENCE.

If we seek to establish in an unarbilrary way the
common usage of the word " conscience." we must
reserve the expression for denoting those facts which
cannot be included under any of the terms which are
synonymously employed.

*
^ There is something very great and blessed, as well as
inevitable, in the fact that our mind is in agreement
and harmony with the eternal and inviolable laws of
the world and its Creator. The bringing about of this
harmony in himself is one of the chief duties in the
self-training of the individual.

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176

STILL HOURS.

The " conscience " is the peculiarly human instinct,
i.e. the moral instinct, and as such it is essentially
religious.

The conscience is the unity of the subjective
moral consciousness of the individual with objective
moral requirements. No one is able to judge with
certainty how it stands as regards this point in the
case of any other individual. {Cf. Schenkel : " VVcscn
d. Prot.,'-' pp. 148, etc., 50.)

Conscience is the directly active moral instance in
the individual ; namely, as an instance for him as a
particular individual. It is both legislative (requiring
and binding) and also sentencing. It is both emotion
and impulse.

^ The conscience = the self-actualization of the essen-
tially moral nature of man.

THE WILL.
Willing, as distinguished from mere impulse, which
IS certainly blind, always presupposes thought ; for
we cannot will anything without a purpose, ix. a
thought which originates and determines it.

*
Thinking and willing rest equally upon self-deter-
mination ; and it is self-determination, not willing,
which makes morality.

In looking upon the will as the final principle, we

THE WILL. ,^^

are so far right ; because it alone gives va'lue 'to the
being of the creature (in fact, to any kind of being)
in the sight of God.

*
Positing ^^las setceu) is {a) an ideal positing of
some end, ... wilhng ; and {b) a real positing of this
end, a giving of being to the motive idea, /... doing.

The strong or powerful will is not stiff and ob-
stinate, but elastic.

*
In maintaining that the "will is the original form

nit ^.' '^-n'r' '''" °' '''' P^"°"'" ''' ^^^"y "^^an,
not the will, but self-determination,

On the threshold of man's development, his .^..,
his thought and will themselves, are merely an idea
which possesses only a shadowy reality in the corre-'
sponding materially physical functions of life and
which must achieve for itself a true reality.

*
That the will and the power of self-determination
are not precisely identical becomes evident from the
fact that we can zvill to will. (C/ Schleier. acher:
Psychologie," p. 468 ; Baader, xiv., p. ^m.) I can
determine myself to will, just as I can determine
myself to think. I distinguish myself (my ego) from
my will and my understanding ; and thus I can
speak of n^y will and my understanding, and hold
both will and understanding in my own po.ver. which
lor the present indeed is merely relative.

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ST/LL HOURS.

Self-determination is determining one's self to will
or " willing to will." '

The will itself does not will, but the ego by means
of the will. In the same way, it is not our conscious-
ness which thinks or feels, but the ego by means of
our consciousness. Consciousness and will are not
themselves the ego^ but they are powers, which in
their union result in the ego, or the personality.

FREEDOM.

Can the true and formal self-determination, the
true hberum arbitrium, be inborn > or must it be
attained through the special development of the
personal creature.? This is the great question, on
the answer to which depends the nature of our
conceptions as to the original condition of the first
human being. The question may be stated more
precisely thus : Can a .full-grown-/... not merely
somatically, but also physically full-grown-man be
created .? or can a human being become physically
full-grown only by means of his own development ? *
There is no doubt that the real, actual ego (not the
mere foundation of the ego) cannot be created but
must create itself. The same law holds true of God
Himself

Purely psychological (formal) freedom consists in
velop^ed"'^'°''" ""' ''^^''^'^ ^° ''' personality means fully de-

. ^__ FREEDOM.

Itn ^ '° '"""^ '■'• '° <•-'•<'« -•'■•" pro or
""""'■ '° "'^^' ■' with consent or with denial.

sentaifof ™"h"'°" ■"°=*P-''=""y depends on the

a thoueh „: "" ''"?'"' '''" f-" '"= natural,
although not necessarily material, organism It is

or»an,sm by the personality or central point.

I moralbe" 17 '"""""' "' '"= development o
eiZ 7^' "°" """' P°''"'' f^^dom Is always
althn IT '° '" eood, or freedom to do evi i
a though m both cases it becomes absolute only when
development ceases,_not freedom alike to do .ood

a: ve ar r d • "T ''" ""^ ^^"^" -""■•'-- "-
e.x,.,ls m us a /,&„»„ arMrhm, because in every case
a cho,ce ,s left open, not indeed between the desi e

he Jest to"d' "", '""= '" "" -"• ""' "='» "
the des,re to do ev.l and the desire not to do evil

actK,n^and o.:,..a..,y .,,„,,„„^ ^^^,„^^ ^^. ^J

hand, necessity a.d chance, and on the other,

"'jir^ nom nithoiit or from within.

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coercion and freedom ; but necessity and freedom do
not in themselves form a contrast. They do not
therefore in any way exclude each other.

*
The personal individual is free, m the full sen^e of
the word, when it is really causa sni. It cannot be
this immediately and from the first; it must be
developed by the moral process as a process of
sp.ntuah^ation. The individual who, by means of
tnis process, has become purely spiritual, is causa sui,
because ,t has posited itself as pure spirit. It is
so also in another sense, because its personality is
essentially the product of its own, that is, of its bodily
nature. In this sense even the natural individual is
rausa sui.

A perfected personal organism is the condition of
perfect freedom, which can therefore be attained only
with the perfection of the spiritual body. The per-
•sonality cannot will in a thoroughly efficacious
manner, when in conjunction with an organisn> whose
nature ,s heterogeneous or even hostile to it, or with
one which, although spiritual, is as yet imperfect.
Ihe same is true as regards the reason.

*
A being is free, not when it determines itself
according to its own nature, but when it determines
Itself according to its own conception.

In the consideration of human freedom we must

FREEDOM.

i8i

first of al inquire in relation to what other being this
freedom . understood. It may be considered as
mans power of self-determination in relation to God
It cannot of course be disputed that human seif^
detenmnafon .n itself is entirely dependent on God •
but none the less is it true that God, according to'
H.S own appointed way of entering in^o relation with
the personal creature, exercises His unlimited power
over man only in such a degree as shall not do away
with his self-determination. But at the same time
our freedom must be considered-and this is the
mam point in the whole question-as in relation to
our material nature. The human personality, in pro-
portion as it is true personality, has the power of
self-determination as regards our material nature
This rests on the dualism which really exists in
man-the separation of the sensual body and the
personal soul. Neither of these are fully separated
in the animal, the result being that in the animal the
determining of the body is always at the same time
a determining of the soul. With man it is otherwise
In him the personal soul, in its union with the
material organism, is undoubtedly determined by
that organism in its impulses and sensations. But
this only on one side of its being ; on the other
the soul just as distinctly determines the material
organism as a determining power of volition and
understanding. Therefore man is not like the animal
Identical with his impulses and sensations. He pos'
sesses, m his power, of volition and understanding

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STILL HOUHa.

the capacity, on the one hand, of rendering himself
'"dependent of these, and therefore of his material
nature, entirely of his own accord, and without
solicitation from the impulses and sensations ; and on
the other, of placing himself in direct antagonism
towards them. The solicitation to action, which
comes to him in impulse and sensation, must, in the
case of man, before it can be reduced to action, first
appear before the Forum of his personality, and only
according td its decision can it finally result in action,
tven when impulse and sensation result most com-
pletely in a corresponding action, this can happen
only through the consent of the understanding and
the will-of the personality as a whole; therefore
only through man's self-determining power. On the
second side, the doctrine of human freedom has
meaning only on ihe assumption of two principles in
man-princples which are dissimilar, both as regards
their quality and their quantity. With the complete
spintualization of man they will therefore disappear.

*
The conception of freedom always presupposes
more than one person, the free man being affected by
the other. His freedom consists in the fact that
wh,le being affected by another, he is not at the'
same time directly determined by that other. If he
were in no way affected, then the q-.estion of freedom
would be an idle one. The free being must always
be a self, an ego, a subject, because such alone can
place Itself in opposition to another.

FREEDOM.

«83

Moral freedom consists in the subject being master
of his own motives, being able to form and modify
them, even to produce a reaction against their in-
fluence (and also the contrary), if he is putting forth
his best efforts. If he is too slothful or too impure
tor this, he has power even then to produce a reaction
against this sloth and impurity by distinguishing
/«;«..// from all his attributes, from all that forms a
part of him. His weakness is always either sloth or
impurity. The ego distinguishes itself from all that
It IS, and enters spontaneously into relations with it.

A personal creature, which is able to decide abso-
lutely for God and the good as a whole, has no need
ot a test of freedom, any more than such a test is
possible for him. because he cannot decide otherwise
than for God and the good as a whole. Where this
test IS really needed, the decision must prove, to a
certain extent, abnormal.

'■\. \

If the perfected freedom of the personal creature
practically excludes the power of arbitrary self-
determination, this does not involve any defect in
him of the power of self-determination ; because
every abnormal self-determinatir is a partial want of
true self-determination and the c.i.npcJty for it and
in the abnormal exercise of .^elf-dciermination the
personal being determines itself in some degree in
opposition to itself.

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STILL HOURS.

The error ,„ Schopenhauer's denial of the freedom

o ,.6> '"^"7'" ("G^ndp^bleme der Ethik,"
p. m .3, that he does not admit that man has the
power of changing his character, that his character
may poss.bIy be the object of a self-determining

adm.t that man may be the object of his own elf-
determmafon, because he fails to distinguish in him
an ego and a nature.

Rationality is for man to attain unto, never-the
case of ...ne alone excepted-an already perfected
lact m ni.r.,. nature. The same i.s true of freedom.

If I hav. nothing to lose in life, then no hindrance
sJiaJl deprive me of courage.

The _//&■,•«« arbiMum, the actual power of self-
determ,„at,on. cannot be directly,./..,,,- it must be
acquired.

TEMPTATION.

Temptation consists in a hindrance of life, which is
in danger of becoming a disturbance of hTe.

There is a difference between attacks of evil and

emptation. I. the former case the subject concerned

has no desire to consent. Whether anything is to be

a temptation, or only an attack of evil, depends on

the moral nature of the person concerned

sm.

S/N.

i8S

The development of man passes t gh stages of
sin. Until the advent of the Redeen.. . it was, on the
one hand, an ever completer development of the
human personality, and on the other hand, in closest
connexion therewith, a continual increase of human
sin.

If sin is a necessary point of transition in human
development, it is not on that account merely
negative. The human individual may in his deve-
lopment permanently continue in sin. Evil is no
less real than good.

The great solemnity and Hie immense practical
importance of the doctrine of the devil is, that it
shows us how the personal creature, in its transit
through sin, may remain fixed in evil.

In proportion as the personality of the individual
IS developed, sin becomes more and more his own
sm, for which he alone is accountable. In proportion
as the power of self-determination exists in him his
sin is the work of that self-determination.

Evil in the course of development, or sin, is not

m Itself a condition of the development of the good ;

but it belongs to the idea of creation, as a creation

out of nothing, that the created personality cannot

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STILL HOURS.

detach Itself from material nature otherwise than bv
bemg. first clothed upon with matter, and being i^
h,. way altered, rendered impure or sinful. \2
's the necessary commencement of the creation of
man, but only its mere commencement, which comes
to a close m the second Adam (, Cor. .xv. 45, etc.)

itfl7L"'" "".''^'''"'•^'■=<' 'h^ugh redemption,
must be recognised as enmity against God, which
's by no means the case from the first

The necessity of a transition through sin is not
directly an ethical, but rather a physical, „ec s ty
The apparent imperfection of the wo Id vh h
requires this transition, belongs to, and is exp tj
demanded by, the conception of the world itsel T„d
.s therefore a positive perfection of the world.

Original sin, the sinful propensity, is a mere
acadensot human nature, so far as it is a condUbn
wh.h, according to the principle of that nature's
to be e-xpressly abolished. '

*
The possibility that any personal creature, even
after he has become aware of the impotence of sin
as opposed to God, should yet determine to continue
■n sm, becomes explicable when we consider that the
alternative placed before him is whether he will be
converted, or, by slow self-consumption, finally ^r J
not l,ve always in a lost condition. This must be

sjj\r.

187

specially noted in reference to the devil." (Suicide
is psychologically possible.)

*
Sin, or the sinful propensity, has a twofold onVin •
ITZ ^^"^'^^"^"^'J -d on the other, selfish.'
Each of those forms of sin, again, appears asadistinct
manifestation of evil ; as the natural, in the form
o. grossness, and as the spiritual, in the form of
malicious wickedness.

Even as regards sin. the Archimedean saying holds
true. Give me a point outside the world, and I will
move the world from its poles." He who personally
stood quite outside sin would possess in himself full
capacity for overcoming sin in humanity, and for
casting sin out of humanity.

No one will mza become conscious of his need of
redemption from a purely religious point of view
t.e. without being conscious of tho moral worthless-
ness and unworthiness of his condition as estranged
from God. **

*
The principle of opposition to God. which belongs
to the primary conception of the creature, r.n be
really driven out only by the creature's own deed •
but the creature cannot repudiate and cast it out
without having experienced it as such in himself.
To reject evil merely on account of a positive com-
mand (or prohibition) of God, is not to reject it

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srri.L HOURS.

really, t.e. knowing what it is. and therefore with
unbounded abhorrence. It is not necessary to this
experience of evil as evil that the nature of evil
should unfold itself in our own life, but only within
the circle of our experience. On the other hand this
true rejection of evil equally presupposes the clear
and lively knowledge of God.

*
The principle of opposition to God, which belon-s
to the original conception of the creature, can be
abolished only by the creature itself, by its own self-
determination, and therefore only by the personal
creature. But in order to this the cieature must be
conscious of it as it really is. as evil. This conscious-
ness can be primarily attained only by the experience
of sins workings. For from without, U in this ca=
through the teaching of God. the personal creatu,
cannot understand the principle of opposition to God
as It really ,s. because, at the commencement of its
development, it is not yet capable of such a relation
to Goo as would make this teaching possible.

*
The confusion in our conceptions as to the ori-in
of human sin arises from the fact that we assume
that the first human beings stood in an originally
actu given relation to God, whereas this relation
could have existed in their case oxAy potcntia. Man's
development proceeds not from, but towards his
communion with God.

GOOD AND EVIL.

^___ 189

Sin is not by any means originally a determining
one s self ni opposition to God.

*
Sin begins as the brutish, and ends as the dcvili.h.

*
If the universal nature of sin were selfishness, then
there would be no sin at all outside the relations
between man and man.

It may very well happen that a man may feel .so
deeply the guilt connected with his sin, as to lose
s.3ht of the feeling of its unworthiness. And this
iatter feelmg is not the true one.

He who is sincerely conscious of his own sinfulness
needs no long and special preparation for repentance
He ,s naturally and at all times ready for repentance'

He who wishes to feel, to a eertain extent, quiet
and se,f.contented while persisting in sin, must go on
ever narrowing his sphere of vision,

GOOD AND EVIL.

.vil-'M'^T °' "^''' •''"'' "■•™2 ^"= •'•a.^formed,
w.thm the department of morals, into those of good

and ev,, beeause the process of the creature^ or
rather the process of life considered as moral, and
only as such, ,s a process of development of spirit,
therefore of a being which is no longer in Lei
worthless.

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STILL HOURS.

Only the good, i.e. the real or perfect good, can
have the power of overcoming evil. In proportion
as impurity yet remains in the good, it will be
powerless m the struggle against evil.-in direct
innn '\ '"^^ ^<^^^^on\y accepted delusion of
nanow-mmded people, who consider that in this

with T ''' '.'" "'"''* "''"^'^ ^"'' ^^'t^^ Sood alone
without a certam admixture of badness.

One of the greatest hindrances of good in the
world ,s men's unchristian disbelief in its power.

One of the commonest causes of a morally bad
disposition is stupidity.

The confusing point in tlie question as to the

or^m of evil is, that we generally take it for granted

that God-who of course does not positively will

he existence of evil-can yet create the personal
crea ure ,„ , ,t,„ „f p^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^

do th,s, because, if it is to be a creature. He must
create .t out of that which is not good, and also
because the good as a whole is conceivable only as
developed by itself. We must give up the attempt
to estabhsh a "perfect commencing point of the
human race " (Schenkel : "Dogm,tik," ii. i., p. 2,3).

The really evil thing in evil is the desire that the
contradiction to the human ideal and the contra-

GOOD AiYD EVIL.

191

diction to the Divine, which at Ui7"^n^TrT
inevitably present, should continue.

Everything, as I well know, depends for mc on the

fact that good shall be really good, and consequently

evil really evil, and that even dispcndio met. An

excuse for evil, above all in myself, I indignantly

*
The conception of the good is that of the right as
something which is self-posited.

*
All good in this world, even in its noblest and
most beautiful forms, like love, rests upon a " dark
background," which it must painfully absorb and
change into luminous spirit.

Imperfect or impure virtue has a bitter taste ; only
when It is perfectly sincere can its taste be sweet.

He who has once really tasted the good acquires a
hking for it.

*
^ What hinders us most from recognising the good
m others ,s that we do not see the evil in ourselves.

*
It is much more difficult to recognise good than
evil, both in the individual and in the course of
history.

The good, the absolutely real being, belon

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192

STILL HOURS.

creature only as moral good ; U. it is conceivable
only as, on the one hand, posited by God, but, on the
other, self-developed. For only a being which is
causa sui is a truly real being ; and a real being can
have value in God's sight only when, in spite of its
creation, it has become thus real entirely of itself.
This strikes us even more forcibly when we remem^
ber that the good /// concrcto is spirit.

*
If evil is to be considered as "the indeterminate
Will raisinjnr itself to creaturely freedom," and the
ongm of evil to be, according to the idea of indeter-
mmate will, incomprehensible (Jul. Muller: "Lehre
von der Sunde," ii., p. 844) ; then this rising of the
indeterminate will, the actualizing of its possibility
cannot be a transaction entirely without occasion'
and an adequate reason can be found only in the
predisposition to evil, therefore in something evil
which preceded actual evil. '

The good = that which is right through self-deter-
mination.

SELFISHNESS.

Selfishness is naturally occasioned by the difficulty
which, in a yet imperfect organization, the soul's life
finds in perfecting itself as such, as the central point
The more difficult it is for the ego to comprehend
and grasp the idea of itself, the more violent and
immoderate is the repulsion which it exercises on
outward objects. {Cf. V.uander; "Psychol " p 38->)

PLEASURE SEE feme. -PASShXV. - VA\Ur\ '.

»93

In the animal nature the sensual tendency appear;
under the form of selfishness.

PLEASURE-SEE KmC.
Pleasure-seeking is the tendency towards enjoy,
rnent (which includes appropriation) in and for itself
and for its own sake, and not really with a view to
appropriation.

PASSioy.
Passion is partly sensual, partly selfish, accordin^r
as the material principle, which holds the self-activity
captive, is chiefly sensual as such, or egotistic. There
IS however neither a purely sensual, nor a purely
egotistic passion ; but each is always present alon-
with an admixture of the other. The same is true o"f
covetousness.

VANLTY.

One would hardly believe it possible, and yet it is
an oft-repeated fact, that there are people who would
willingly see their vanity gratified, even at the cost
of real detriment to themselves.

*
There is hardly any vice which makes us so weari-
some to others as vanity.

*
The man of poor abilities has special temptations
to vanity, in order that he may appear well.

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STTLL HOURS.

COARSENESS.

Moral coarseness, properly so called, consists in
iimitingr the social function to the necessary natural
process of assimilation, and social intercourse to that
of assimilation.

POLL y.

Folly leads the way to prison quite as frequently
as wickedness. ^

The dividing line between wisdom and foUy is so
extremely fine, that a prudent man will be very car"
ful^how he accuses any one but himself of being a

*
Many a man endures a hard and life-long captivity
Who goes about free from any outward resL ift, and
perhaps even with a tolerably cheerful air.

~. p.otoco,s. e.c., and ^::Z^T:S;

jESUlTISAf.

It is .ndescribably humiliating when a man, in
order to gam h,s own ends, instead of estimatin-. his
means according to the eternal laws of the mo^^
world, estimates them according to the evil pasTon
and weaknesses of men, and when his ends Tof

jEsurrrsAf.

such a "■••ture that they can b^^^^^^'hyln^,
means alone.

He who sets before himself or humanity other
moral a.ms than those really appointed by God. even
although he may consider and declare that his own
a.ms are the aims of God, must yet come into con-
fl'ct wuh the moral order of the world, and in the
pursuance of his aims have recourse to unworthy
means. (Jesuitism.) ^

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ON CHRIST.

«<-.>» <>.wu4(u.^ -J i^juiujanRii^nHinHMHI

if!

VI. ON CHRIST.

^.—CHRISTOLOC^/
BIBLICAL DEDUCTIONS.

IN Matthew V i;. i8. the Redeemer expressly says
that the complete realization of the moral develoo-
ment of man. of the moral kingdom in humanity
forms an essential part of His aim and work • and
that the close of the present order of earthly things
which ,s the consequence of His second advent'
cannot take place until this is fulfilled. It is note'
worthy that in .. i8 yoy^o, (the law) alone is"
mentioned, without the addition of the "prophets"
mentioned in .. i;. Cf. on this point John xiii.

ho„H T." "' '^''^ ^" *^^^ J^^t solemn

^our ! The saying of Jesus in Matthew v. 48 is
deeply significant, less as a precept than as an
assured evidence of the attainability of the moral
goal in Its unmeasured height ; but. let us remember,
only through Christ and in union with Him.

VVhatever may have been the purport of the true
eschatological predictions of Christ, they were cer-

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STILL HOURS.

tainly not confused; for in all His thoughts and
sayings there was no confusion.

*
The Holy Ghost is considered as an opyavov of
Christ, when He is entitled, as in Luke xl 20, the
BdKTv\o<: ToO &€ov (cf. Matt. xii. 28) ; and when
Christ is represented as excov ra kirTu irvevixara rov
&eov (Rev. iii. i ; v. 6).

The key to the saying of St. Paul, that Christ
reconciles, even "all things in heaven" {uTroKaTaX.
Xa^ai, and indeed, Bca tov aipLaro^ rov aravpoO
avTov, Col. i. 20) lies simply in the Pauline con-
ception of Christ as the TrpwroTo/to? Trao-i;? KTiaeto^
(Col. i. 15), le. of the unity of Jesus with the second
Adams of all created spheres, of ^v^hich each one has
attained perfection only through a redemption by
its second Adam. The statement in v. 20 is the
natural result of this conception.

In Colossians i. 15 Christ appears to be called
TrpcoTOTOKoq TTiiar}^ KTiaeox! as the Divine Logos,
because in every {ndar]^) particular sphere of per-'
sonal creaturto, He personally unites Himself with
the first-born individual, the true or second Adam,
not the merely first in time, and really dwells in
him. With this idea vv. 16, 17, 19, 20 perfectly
correspond.

If the Pauline idea of Tr/o-rt? in reference to Christ

IDKA OF THE LOGOS.

20 1

is in some degree mystical, the reason is not, that
St. Paul connected any pecuh'ar idea with the iria-ri^
itself, but that Christ in His exaltation is to him the
Hving One, who requites the believing trust yielded
to Himself by His spiritual union with the believer.

*
In the second Adam, Christ, natural generation
ceases. {Cf. i Cor. xv. 45 ; Rev. xiv. 4.)

Even the specific universal individuality of the
Redeemer has for its condition His supernatural
generation, and is otherwise inconceivable.

*
The ascension of Christ was the result of the
absolute completion and spiritualization of His bodily
nature, which necessarily implied its becoming in-
visible. His ascension has not placed Him far away
from uc, but only made Him invisible,— invisible to
us who are not yet pure spirits (Matt, xxviii. 20).
Because His absolute spiritualization was not com-
pleted till the ascension, therefore the outpouring of
the Spirit succeeded His exaltation.

IDEA OF THE LOGOS.

God's world-development, according to its essential
idea, IS equivalent to His man-development. Here
man is to be understood in the widest sense of the
word, as indicating generally the personal creature.

The Logos of St. Joiin comprehends in itself the

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202

STILL HOURS.

the Old Testament as the Spirit of the Lord, but
not m any sense the actually so-called Holy Spirit.

r..?' ^T •^''"' "'"'^ ^''^^ ^^ P''^^^"^. must be
really a. I actually developed, before the Divine
i-ogos can become the Man Jesus.

hand, that wh.ch by its process of life produces my
personahty, my .^., and on the other hand, and
this m an even truer sense, that which my person-

ftl'u! T7- °' "' '"""'^' "''"''■ "*°- Product

1^1 '" " """■" ''"'' P'-°^"«''. -"d which
■s on that account a spiritual nature. If the person

nature of he substance of Mary (£Wrf), ,he„ this
•^ not really the proper nature of the Divine Logos
but only ,ts garment, its armour, an artistic macWne,'
etc. The relation thus remains entirely outward
The act,on of the Divine personality, which is in its J^
perfect and absolute, would thus be the mere an
pearance of action, .:.. action hmited and controlled
by Its relation to its material human nature. The
whol.^hfeofChri.astheKedeemerwouldbeon,y

"human"" ""'°r'"" ^°S°^ =""" ■"-" ■•" Christ, the
also mclude the human personality, then it is absurd

IDEA OF THE LOGOS.

203

Tatu^ if wit" T'"""" '"^h^^f-'nir^^a;

nature ,f w.rtout a personality, can neither will nor
have the power of willing-.

telSllf """''' °' ^""^ ^^""°* •- »P'-"eci in.
of vvh.ch alone sinlessness can be predicated is

divinifv ul T "'""' '' ""= "=■"?'« °f "3

nir K^; . "" """^ '"^ ="'>' q-^'ion as to the
poss.b.l,ty o a morally abnormal developmen" If
the personality of a creature is not really "elf-de
vc loped, but, even in the case of the Divine pe so„

strr L:if"^"\^°'"'""' ^"^ perfect thT:;

sk.ll or excellence whatever is shown in leading a

If the Divine Logos can "enter into the form of
the «„.„„«„„ sou, ..(Ebrard: " Dogmatik " ii „ sV
hen t,.e.e is no reason why it should not "emer
'nto" an animal, a plant, a stone, etc.

befnt" Tpf °f !!^n°'™^ P"^°" " become a limited

po fble fha? '' °r "*'" "•• P- "=4) •' It is im-
poss,ble hat an absolute ..j-. should place itself in

the position of a finite e^o, and act as such • for the

ma,n pon.t here is not the nature of the out v 'd

ond, .ons of existence, but the nature of theT'

Itself (existing in nn^ ,.,.„ ^ ^^^

cannot

lay aside its absol

t- 1 ■•

I ";l

' 'I

ute

e£-o without abolishing itself.

i'l

( 1"

204

SriI.L HOURS.

matwo " Pr^""^'"^"*"* ■'='= '^ken upon itself
man s form of existence, U the human personality
o human nature, is not a true „«„. A Divide

Lol T, ''""""• " ""^ incarnation of the

Logos ,s thus understood, as indeed it is by Ebrard
who represents the dogmatics nf .h. c s
Church th.„ ,u r^• .»"'"'" °' 'he reformed
umrch then the D,v,ne personality (ego) of the
D,vme Logos lays aside, in free selficr fice its own
D.v.ne nature, and assumes instead, or forms foitL"
the nature of man ; and in that ease the Logo, do
no become man at all. This can really hLpe„
only when the entire Divine Logos, the unfon oT t

.°el a ^r^T V '"' °'™- -'"-. t^kes upon
tself a true and perfect manhood, «. a union of the

human personality and the human nature. The e •

no need of seriously undertaking to prove that the

«. """" "°""-°"^- S-" ^ thing is .„.

Looked at from the standpoint of the Lutheran
o. retention, of an dnnoaraaU of the ;w/,,J

"rr^ii^f''^^"'---'--^- (^/E^-^

-L'ogniatiJc, II., p. 1 10, etc.)

If the Divine Logos wills to become real man it
the t,ue development of its personality; because

CHURCrr DOCTRINE.

20;

the human personality, and that of the crcituro
generally, is real only through its own develZe""
only as the result of the process of its ou-n life'the7e
fore only through itself

totxilt''! 1 Ir'"^'' '"■ ''''"^""^ personalities
exist absolutely ,n one another, this existence
need not neces<?anl,r k« i- v 1 cAi.suencc

as fitffnli K . "'^^"^ ^° ^^^°'b"t may just

as fittingly be considered as the absolute existence in

?ir- t::;:: '""'r'" '^'^'^ orpersonX

m i ud of • TT °' ^'^ ^°^^°^ b°^'^ '- the
multitude of special spheres and to the personalities
in every special sphere. personalities

*
The Divine nature, spirit as such, and the Divine
Logos personal spirit, are in their essential unl

zatjon of the hidden God is itself an actual causalitv
and hands on its being to another outside itself "^^

CHUKCH DOCTIimE,

If only our theologians could become clearlv
aware that all the Divine glory of the Saviou st
Thom,,,3 : "Beitrage .ur Kirchl. Christol^ p. 33)"
nothmg except in sr f-r ■,» \, ; , • "'

developed. ' " '"°-'"'' "' '"°^^">-

If a complete union of the Divine Logos with the

and r :rh"" '"f "^ " ^ "'"''' ^''^''^' ■"-"-
no r„"m "; ^T"'' 1 "'' """P"-- «>- '"ere i
no .oom left for a religiously moral development in

'3 I If

, ! iH

* 1 1 «

liV

206

STriL HOURS.

u^nij w,-th°Go!!'' r"""'"" "' '"'"^' absolute

*
The maintenance of the h,,w thvsim of tl,„ .
natures in Christ, has meanin, fX !/„ God

cons,deredasasensualorcorp;rearbei; "

VVheneyer we assume a Divine hypostasis in Christ

-;M:^s'c;aU::^rof^r^^^^^^^^

ctsi:Sd'af :r ^^^"-^ '--^-^^^^
natu:;rh.::iraCed"r"'-'^=--

The idea that a personal, Divine hypostasis =, :,
.s always represented, can become p'Ly" a !' ma

boi;. """"^'^ ^= ""^'>' '-« — '•". of a human

The great error in the treatment of the doctrine
of the atonement for sin by a Redeemer 7 Tf

errtatT"^^ ^^^^ '' - ^^^^:^-

evident that the atonement for sin is a satisfaction
for sm ,Hro,gh expiatory endurance of its pi

"3 P ior'TH 7^'^''- '"^'^"^-^^ Theol.."

helphere s to,. ; ° "^ '"""''^ ^^^>^ °^ ^^-^-^
neip here is to lay down a correct definition of what

the atonement for sin really means.

THE PERSONALITY OF CffRTST.

207

THE PERSONALITY OF CIIRrST.

One special perfection of the T^«^
tonality is, that it developed itsef ' '^''^'"^^^ ^ P^^
whole human race (T '" ""'°" ^^''^'^ the

radi " Semt^h ^ ^^'"^ 'P"''^"^ "^'ed by Con-

' SeIbstbew.undOfr.."p.i49. r/.p.ni^tc)

We look upon Christianity too much .»
religion, while in reality it is an T>- , "'""

'■••■e. The Redeemer «4 c:ti:eVr:" "" '"'■"^"

If ever a purely origi„al^„,,„ existed, it was Jesus.

othersandbyLa Of tha?1'"'" "" '="'"™ '°
-If. for indfvila, ; hl'lr'^''""' . N°' '" "™-

-ribing opposition oTtheltura 7;::." M f^""'-
to Which the personality is ctn e ved" ^^ d 7^'
opposmon consists more particularivirl
nomic activity with ,„h; i, .1 '^"'""J' '" the auto-

part in thepfo ef tluJ '"""'"'^ •''''' '="^-"
of the Redeemer th. '"P^n^tural conception

■ivcueemer, the natura elempnf tUo. . .

conceptive power, was purely recepLetr '"
purely passive, simply theonomicallyX aid
a^ such, it could exercise no reftra 2: « "'
«Pon the process, therefore thin ^ ' "™"
P"-nc.-p.e moulded the Z^^^;":^^::

Cf. Pnn vr^A'. it r^t •

' ^^- '"^''""' '■<='■"•'"" '" 0" «ege„wan,.. etc., pp. .a,

575.

2o8

.977/./. I/O UK S.

It must nevertheless be observed tliat the very
want of individuah-ty on the part of the Redeemer
was, on the other liand. the possession of indivi-
duahty, inasmuch as He, standing alone in his
non-.ndividuah-t)-, forms thus a relative contiast to all
others ; His ,0^0 being thus, in spite of His univer-
sahty. or rather in consequence of it, strikingly unique.^
With such a nature the individual and identical
determinations of His states [humiliation and exalta-
tion] directly corresponded. On this rests too the
specificall> unique relation of the Divine Logos and
the Redeemer. He is the universal Man. and yet
m an incomparable sense, the God-Man. But at the'
same time we must remember that He was a man
an Israelite. '

The individuality of the Redeemer stands in the
same relation to the individualities of the redeemed
as the centre to all separate points of the periphery
In the centre all points are lost. In the Redeemer's
individuality all the separate individualities of men
are united to a perfect personality, and thus
the personality, considered as human, really exists
in a purely centralized totality of individuals.
This is the concrete true personality. All indivi-
dualities form an essential part of the individuality

' The Redeemer formed for Himself an individuality by an
abnormal development. The individuality of Christ is the
universal individuality, in which as such all forms of indivi-
duality are to be found. °"'

p a

TJJE PERSONALITY OF CHRIST.

_ 209

of Christ; it appropriates them all." "iTurChn-^r-
nc>v be,ng, and is right,, called absolute"; the fI:::. "

The Redeemer is the second ^A•.
^-^.Heis„oto„,,a„Tdiran;rrte':;

nature, but because He is the realaln f ^ ''"

nature in the perfect unity of all ?' ^^'""'"

-des. He does not indeed exha s thT"^ ^''"'"'

of humanity, because He first's I!! •> .conception

realization j but He is th. f f '' "' ''''^°'''"=

of its abs;i„te ":,;: a oVT.^^^^^^^^^^^ --'"^
adequate power to real.V. \u T Possesses

those varied <^\:^^t21::T^'. "'
Plicity are included in Him ^^ '*'"■ '""■

of different individual human' IZ. °TnT '^r",'^
possession of the power there win n»tn "'f ""
tendency . manife^ those ^d^^lrctl^ J^;

exclusively and tih i" development was

.veiy and with unlimited intensity directed tr,

^^::^:;ufderaiif^ir*^™'^'"'-'°'e

God, a mora. h;et„^ ,; ^^.^ ;7- -'«'on to

«'n»one.rhecXr;;:!;-r:x;'Trr

2IO

STILL HOURS.

i ■ I

de.n«rs whole course of a.tion was directed ex-
clus,vely .o this centre of the sphere of ™oral being,
and .t was thus directed owing to the individuf
mora task which had been expressly laid upon Him
therefore ,n an entirely normal manner. The whoTe
moral vocafon of the Redeemer was as such pure!
a rehgu^us vocation. (C/ John xvii. ; Luke 1 ,4.)
Jor this reason .t was not sufficient that the Re
deemers morality should show itself simply i„ His
own personal life, but it must also unfold and display
tefas^., .essential morality under the manifoM^
ness of various types, in the totality of redeemed
humanity. The Redeemer's individuality is thus"he
bsolutely highest individuality, not as if was i b^rn

l«K,.^'l ■"''"'*' ■'^'"S'' •"" ="= " "as morally
estabhshed by Himself (that of His spiritual bein^. "^

THE VOCATION OF JESUS.

From the Redeemer Himself we may see most
clear y how the prosecution of one's own individul
moral purpose coincides in concrete with that of t
universal and how he who males himself virt,r ■,:
exercses for that very reason the greatest influenc ;^
the community in the furtherance of its moral n„r

eTh- V^' 1!',"" "^-P"^" -'""•"^ H^" '":"
ear h- Ver,- mle as regards others, but iniinitely

much a. ,,.,„s H:mself. He perfected Himself as
the R.„,, ,, ,„d „h,t ^ ^^^

comph.h., ,br humamv became evident from the

THE VOCATION OF JESUS.

toory „an„„ „hy His life had such an ear^ Co "
When the image of Christ has truly arisen in our

that;,' """'^''^■■"°"-p«'-'«^ the p,::;";

*
The work of the Redeemer's hTe was th.f „f
«aily religious vocation, to mal^^M''
mu„,on w.th God possible for sinful man.

iif'^f ctt'" rets" i'ZT r '"'^ "'''

-^pu.ideaofcrirr„'tT::r";f

t .s succeeded, then in His judgment all the needs
of men would be virtually satisfied. We who it
born m. he light of the idea which He brought into
the world cannot sufficiently realize, eiti

lll'.\

the

rreat-

213

ST/I.L HOURS.

• I

ness of the idea itself, or of the work by which it was
brought to completion. (Matt. ii. 27. T/ Schenkel :
Characterbild Jesu." pp. 168, i.jo.)

*
Jesus did not deliver a revealed doctrine, but His
teachnig. the communication of His ideas, forms an
essential part of the revelation which He Hunsclf^ in
iiis Person and work, really is.

That a man should feel that Christ \^ great to
himself, and that he should consider Him as a o-rcat
Z.r^-these are two things as wide apart as ^arth
and heaven.

If to the consciousness that we can find our own

personal salvation nowhere but in Christ is added

this other consciousness, that the world's history

apart from Him presents no way of safety whatever

hen U .s difficult to understand why-as many seem

to suppose-the former consciousness should suffer.

PERSONAL CIIARACTER OF JESUS.

It is not sufficient that we should be guided in all
thmgs by the z..^^ of Jesus ; we must place ourselves
at all tmies before His image. The former is not
really possible without the latter, for His word can
be truly understood only as an integral element of
His Person.

The infinite moral greatness of Christ is admirably
shown in the fact, that in the development of His

PERSOXAr. CHARACTER OF JESUS.

consciousness, and in all His practical course of doino-
and suffering. He kept with such clearness and cont
sistency to the centre and substance of thin^rs It
becomes clearly evident too, in His strict avoid'ance
of a 1 connexion with the sects of His own historical
circle ; although some of these, especially the Essenes
seemed to present many more fruitful points of con-
tact than orthodox Judaism. This was a brilliant
proof of His truly historical insight.

*
Even as regards His freedom from prejudice, from
he j.aTa,„ ava.rfor<l -raTfo-^apaii-ro, (, Pet. i. .8).

artimes'^"" '""''' "°"' '' " P'^'""' P^""" ^^'

Israelite ^^'"''^ '''' ^^'"' ^''''^'' """^ ^''' ^^'" ^ ^''"^

*
It is a perfectly unique and very striking fact, that
the v,ews of Christ do not proceed from the con-
cretely defined horizon of any age or any historical
sphere, not even from His own. Mark the distinction
in this respect between Christ and Socrates.

*
Christ did not adopt any of the elements of culture
prevalent in His own age. (^/ Bagge. " Das Princip
des Mythus im Dienst der Christl. Position," p. 174.)

Our Saviour judged all sins mi

lessnc:

ss and

liypocri

Idly except love-

J i

• I

lis

• i^

(IS

■ \

III I

J J

)

1 I

i 1

i..^

' i I

f i

214

ST/LL HOURS.

The Redeemer freely granted Himself the full
enjoyment of the sweet privilege of laying down no
statutory regulations (though such are undoubtedly
necessary as a transition point) for the community of
those who believed in Him.

*
Christ is incomparably sublime in His never
cherishing even the remotest idea of setting up a
dogma of a religious nature.

*
It IS noteworthy that the Redeemer would have
nothing to do with dogmatising.

*
He who knows what an indescribably complicated
task God had to undertake in creation, in order to
attain His aim and object, will not be surprised that
Christ had to build up His kingdom in ways that
seem to us so slow and so strangely circuitous.

*
A significant point for Christology is the represen-
tation of the weakness of Christ in the days of His
flesh.

*
There is no more absolute ideologist, according to
the current acceptation of the word, than the Lord
Jesus, and yet no one else ever achieved such vast
results in history as He.

Christ's freedom from error rests mainly on the
fact, that He did not extend the range of His desired

PERSONAL CHARACTER OF JESUS,

215

and attempted knovvledge be^;^;;^^!;^^^;;;^^^
real powers of knowledge, and freely and uncondi-
fonally renounced in His unique docta ignorantia all
pretension to knowledge which He Himself did not
really possess.^

*
Do not let us seek the glory of Christ in matters
which are of very small importance, and miss seeing
■t "1 those things which alone are important, merelP
because they are not extraordinary.

*
Even if we owed nothing to Christianity but the
fact that the best and most perfect, and at the same
tmie the most historically influential Man, was also
the greatest and most consistent enthusiast, what a
significance there would be even in this!

*
It was appointed by Divine decree that the Re-

.nZ^t 1°"", "'?^ '"" '^'=^=°" °f °"« °f H'^ -no^t
intimate discples, because, in order to His perfection,

He had to experience the utmost human ingratitude.
Even here Jesus showed Himself incomparably great,
because He foreknew with perfect clearness tha' the
utmost conceivable suffering was of necessity bound
up m His destmy.

What is the work of Christ but simply His realiza-

oX^T-r p "8°.'1f ■;" "■■ "• '«• '•=• ' S*Werm,cher .

Luuerbeck: "N.^r Le Lb » i TIV "m"^""'." "■ 3"'' "'^- ••
■ ^- ^'^'i™. I., p. 3^3 ; Matt, xi, 25.

' m

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2l6

STILL HOURS.

tion of the idea for which, and according to which,
God created man ?

How surprising it seems that we find in Jesus no
feeling of scorn for man !

*
Christ takes part in man's moral task only as in
that of individual culture, its most primitive element.
He is interested in the moral community only as far
as it is the social community. His teaching of men,
like that of Socrates, took the form of social inter-
course.

It is not without significance that Jesus said " I am
the Light of the world " (John viii. 12), not merely of
one individual and another. He illuminates even the
world's condition, and makes it bright.

COD AND CHRIST.

If God is to be in a true sense loved by us, He
must become one of our race, a human individual.

Before Christ, we had heard of God ; in Christ, we
have seen Him.

We must beware lest Christ should, in any way,
conceal from us God, whom He wishes to reveal and
declare.

KP.VEr.ATTOX.

217

i>'.-SOTERIOLOGY.

REVELATION.

If the Ch- -istian faith is to arise and endure Chris
Sr'^'----^--^-va>^berJ^e::

In revelation an illumination or inspiration i.
possible without its de..eneratina. ;„f„ "'f'™"'" '"
the dir^rt .-nfl o«»eneratmg nito magic, because

the direct influence of God on the self-consciousness of
he inspired writer has a distinct modifying poi^t o
conne , „, „,.^^,^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^ DivLtnalf: ta-
t.on. Illumination or inspiration is impossible unless
'" ^""^ -"^y """cctod with a manifestation.

Our older theology proceeds exclusively on the
assumption which it regards as self-evident, that m

Za^r:: ;"' '° '■" "'■^"'■"^' conception, ..d in ••
ZZ t';r"°'"""f -ding his innate sapiauia
ma^,,,a~^^n know nothing of himself as to what is
hs divinely appointed destiny, and the correspo d ng
"orm prescribed for him by God, but only by a direct
revelation from above. y a airect

*
It is customary :^r believers to seek in themselves
those needs which revelation satisfies, it havin. firs
a Ue theirattention to them. This cannot bc;-g

would *bV:, " r^'^'" "'="' -'■•'■■-' ■' «'- -v-;,,

"Olid be the truer statement. Growing up in the
■-"'.ght which streams from revelation, tl.n'c needs

■m

"ij.i J

\ \

2l8

STILL HOURS.

i 'II

:. i !

Which are undoubtedly awakened by the influence of
Its hght, should be already alive in us when revelation
first comes before our minds with objective clearness.

*
Since revelation is essentially a revelation of God
the knowledge it communicates to us is exclusively
the knowledge of God, not directly of any other
object.

God reveals Himself by making the sun (His reve-
lation) appear for humanity in the firmament, not
by promulgating a calendar for it.

*
The sun of revelation shines in the sky. That is
the main point. It illuminates all the world, even
those that do not know that it is revelation at all.

*
^ We must not forget that the main point in revela-
tion is, not that it shall produce an effect on the im-
mediate sphere in which it is operative, but that the
facts m which .'t consists shall be abidingly present
for man in his intellectual horizon, as an essential
datum in the complex of his perceptions and ex-
periences. It seeks to introduce certain facts as
elements of the human world, which this world could
not have produced of itself.

THE BIBLE.

He who knows what difficulties and uncertainties
are connected with the interpretation of Scripture
(and none knows it better than he who has devoted

THE BIBLE.

2T9

himself most earnestly to the t^-.vV.r.J^yy

interpretation of the Old tIT ^T^^ '° ''^^
hesitaf^ f^ . , Testament) will surely

last W " '^'' ^'P^^ °^ C'^^'^t'- P'-ety in the
last instance on Holy Scripture alone.

thi'cil'rf l"^^ '" *° '-"'^^ ^'- ^--tion of
i as th"; ': ; , T"' -^-P-tation is assured

of ^fff n ^"'^'" '^'"'^'^•^"^ '" the exercise

01 Its fullest powers W^ . .x. r '^'^^'^^'se

moral obligation to en., '■"^°''" ""''" ^

ih, should be made clearly evident from the history

of the apocryphal Scriptures irt = "'«'°'^y

"D03n,atikVi.p.38,,t,.P'""'- <''^ "=* Ebrard :

Tel« ':„?""' '■= ""^ ^P°-'yP- of the Old
X cbcament ; and vice versd.

;ee...re,tL::t;:fmer"if::or^

ft%ra:bt::':rht:,ttiir:rr^
-:ai::L::retrt^^^^^^

-"•Pturists, such as sSBecrChr^^r'""
Baumgarten etc The = Hofmann,

same effecr It fa mo!t 7 ""'' ''^^ ^'™^= '^e
cnect. It IS most unfortunate for the internr,.

t~ the «ible that sermons must be Si:

Mil

: J

.i ^

220

sTir.T. nouRs.

The liible was not written to furnish texts for
sermons.

Arbitrary interpretations of the Old Testament in
the New Testament originate chiefly in the fact th<.t,
as many details of the Old Testament were from the
first completely dark and unintelligible to those Jews
who had believed in Christ, they had to seek in the
Christian sphere of vision for means to solve these
Old Testament enigmas. In the same way they
were interested in proving the harmony of the two
economies, and in confirming New Testament data
by Old Testament prophecy.

God gives man nothing in a finished state. All
His gifts are so bestowed that man shall have
abundant work to do with them. This is especially
true, not only of man himself, but also of the Bible.

It belongs to the nature of Protestantism not to
confine itself, as regards Christian knowledge, to the
Bible alone, but to look upon the whole world (nature
and history alike) as a source of knowledge.

Let the Bible go forth into Christendom as it is in
itself, as a book like other books, without allowing
any dogmatic theory to assign to it a reserved posi-
tion in the ranks of books ; let it accomplish what it
can of itself, entirely through its own character and

' '!!9'

THE /i//lLE.

221

through that which each man can find in it for
himself: and it will accomplish great things.

*
Everything spoken and written in the Bible un-
doubtedly presupposes expressly those parts of Divine
revelation which had been previously delivered ; but
it does not equally presuppose the existence of those
parts of the Bible which precede (whether nominally
or really) the period of speaking or writing. This
point has been much overlooked by Chr. Hofmann.

*
The demand that the interpreter of Scripture shall
frankly place himself in a purely objective position
towards the Bible, and allow it to speak for itself,
sounds most ingenuous, and is in itself, in thcsi, quite
unimpeachable ; but in praxi it leads to the very
opposite of what it demands, because the interpreter,
thanks to exegetical tradition, brings with him to his
task certain definite and partially incorrect precon-
ceptions as to the proper meaning of the Bible, whose
authority this principle actually tends to perpetuate.

*
That is a fatal exegesis in which the expositor tries
various keys, instead of knowing certainly that he
possesses the right one.

The New Testament, at least in its original writings,
is the photograph which the historical Christ mirrored
directly {i.e. without the intervention of an elucidating
human reflexion) on the consciousness of those who

.' i'^

ft'

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223

STILL HOURS.

surrounded Him. In other words, the New Testament
is the original record of the manifestation of Christ.
But at the same time the nature of the case implies
that this formula can be accepted only in a relative
sense. It is a renewed challenge to criticism.

*
One chief point in the peculiar religious influence
of the Bible is that it leads us to contemplate the
historical fact of Divine revelation, and truly repre-
sents it to our minds.

( *

It would be well for the Bible if we could accustom
ourselves to place its peculiarity and sacredness in
what it actually is, not in qualities which dogmatists
ascribe to it.

Where, except in the New Testament, can we find
an entirely pure, naive, and unaffected representation
of Christian piety ?

Is it so very difficult to be sure that our theology is
in actual continuity with the New Testament theolo-
gumena, while, at the same time, we carry on our own
independent method ?

The Christian revelation can be transmitted only
by the tradition of acts which concern it; le. of
original records on the subject, and previous attempts
to gather from these acts a correct and perfect know-
ledge. But these attempts must be transmitted by
the Church in such a way that it takes its share in the

F^/T// IN CHRIST.

223

't!

work of their continuation, and indeed does this with
unhmited scientific freedom.

*
It is perfectly right that the incontestable im-
portance of the Old Testament for the scientific
comprehension of Christianity should be definitely
emphasized ; but the direct object of this emphasis
must be, not the Old Testament writings, but the Old
Testament economy or institutions.

*
It is a confusing distortion of the true position of
the matter, that we have now-a-days for the most
part merely "believers in the Bible," instead of
believers in revelation " ; while those who call
theniselves believers in revelation understand nothing
by the term except the Bible.

*
I find more and more that the Bible is made very
httle use of for its true purpose, but all the more for
purposes which are quite foreign to it.

FAITH IN CHRIST.

Faith or belief belongs both to the religious feelin-
and the religious intelligence. On the latter side the
truth, that an element of knowledge essentially be-
longs to it, is emphasized. Obedience is both
conscientiousness and receptivity for the Divine
co-activity.

As regards faith in Christ, there is a general

2^4

sT/i.f. HOURS.

rii •

tendency to give special prominence to the fact that
the object of this faith seems foolishness to the natural
reason, and that in this way faith is unnatural to
man ; but we ought also to have a clear view of the
other side of the question, on which Christ Himself
lays special stress, and which becomes evident when
we understand faith -n Jesus in its original sense, as
trust in His personal character.

There is a difference of meaning between these two
expressions, "I believe that I am reconciled to
God, because the Bible testifies it," and " I believe
this, because Jesus Christ has said it."

*
If the Lord Jesus were once more to appear
amongst us in the flesh, but quite incognito, without
title or honour, this would be the surest method of
discovering who are His. He who then felt the
strongest attraction to Him, who bent before Him in
deepest reverence, would belong to Him most closely,
and would have the truest faith in Him.

*
It matters very little whether we are able to name
the Lord Jesus with His true title; but it matters
infinitely much that we should know His character.
His heart and mind, with the most thoughtful correct-
ness and accuracy. Not His official position and
dignity, but His personal character, is the object of
that unbounded and frankly-yielded trust which forms
the essence of the Trt'o-rt? et? avrov.

li'

FAITH IN CHRIST.

225

true confidence m a person (as feeling the heart
drawn out in trust towards a certain being) then

winbei„th::C,uitferdt°'^"'^'"°^'^''''

know Chwr"';:'"'' ""^ ■■"•P""'"' '"^^ >'» =ho"'d
Know Chnst ,n His personal character than in His

po...on and office. To the man who I<nows hL „
H,s character, Christ naturally becomes whatTthe
Ea^"^"-"^^"''"-- ■designed Tot

V. J K^l*^'' ^"'"^ -^"'"^ ^'^ "°t Wish that the faith
pe^sottn'^H^ woT '"'"^^ °^ ^°™"'^ ^^ '° "'^

Christianity l<„ows nothing of a method, because

more from man than simply faith in Christ. Cherisf

act'christ^'H'V"'"^ ""^'"'^ °f '"« '■■•^'-^a'
fact Chnst, and th.n ;„ ,he lirtt of this certainty

|l '

throu

igh your human life

\\\

('■ '

^m I

I ;

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on earth

lis

226

STILL HOURS.

\ if

Faith can bring salvation only as faith in 2, person,
not as faith in a thing,

As there is a form of unbelief as regards Christ,
which thoughtlessly overleaps all opposing arguments
and scruples in a summary fashion by a salto mortale,
so there is a kind of faith in Christ which does pre-
cisely the same thing.

Faith and knowledge belong to different sides of
our spiritual life. The latter rests on an act of our
consciousness, our understanding in the widest sense
of the word ; the former, on an act of our volition,
our self-activity. (?)

One reason why Jesus could help only those who
had faith in Him was, that men might know that
God can take delight in none but those who find
their personal satisfaction in the being and character
of Jesus. For this is the surest test of the human
disposition.

True faith is, on the one hand, faith in facts ; on
the other, faith which is yielded to a person and
springs from confidence in Him. Faith in mere
doctrines, in scientific formulae, is an inward contra-
diction.

Faith is at once the most personal and the most
individual thing in man.

FAITH IN CHRIST.

227

the difficulties connected with a question hav,7
more .Hgious weight than the un~o"inna.^^
of hose to whose minds these difficulties have nev ^
seriously been presented. "

*
Now as of old, faith cometh by hearing- but the
sermon IS not now delivered merefy. or ev^,; cht y
by the preacher and the Bible, but by the whok
historical existence of Christianity, the entire o7
lective condition of human existence in Christendom

It is an abundant blessing to possess for ourselves
with full certainty a holy and gracious God ( uch a
G d as we have in Christ) ; but it is a true b les h,;
only If we possess this God in order to our work
upon a distinctly objective, and not exclusivelyTer
sonal, task in the world. ^ ^

*
Many of those who believe in God hold their belief
merely as the heathen do, U without knowl^ w
they have come into possession of it.

*
He who is not consciously a Christian lacks the
true central point in all his praiseworthy moral
.nterests and therefore the truly accurate and pro

To be a Christian-indeed to bel

' • ^1

ImH

ii i I

ieve in a God at

228

STILL HOURS.

I, j

aH,— and to be at the same time a pessimist, is an
intolerable contradiction.

UNBELIEF. '

Our worldly-minded unbelievers reject the Church's
doctrines thoughtlessly and without examination;
but our believers accept them, for the most part, in
a precisely similar way.

*
The real nature of sin is disbelief in the good, U
God, arising out of scorn of the being of perfect
goodness, i.e. of God. An absolutely good being
and an absolute good exist only as God.

*
The naively confident scepticism of our men of
culture, in its opposition to the positive in Chris-
tianity, supports itself as a rule on the foolhardy
assumption that we can know nothing of those things
which Divine revelation has brought to our know-
ledge,— the reason being that we are totally unable
to understand them of ourselves.

RECONCILIATION.
The really fatal and reprehensible error in self-
righteousness is, that it obscures the noblest feature
in the character of God— His holy and merciful love.

Justice in the wider sense of "righteousness" may
be understood as the essence of all the morally deter-
mined attributes of God.

! 'Hill

I^ECONCIUATION.

229

^ft is not God's way to " t^kTtwi^^T^^^^i^^th

The conception of the holiness of God (cf. Ehren-
feuchter "Prakt. Theol.," i., p. 33) i, ,hat what God
wdU or does not will. He does or does not will i„ no
arbitrary way, but entirely by virtue of the actual
na ure of the object of His volition ;_that theX
only what .s good in itself as such can be willed by
God. Because in the Old Testament there existed

could hr"' "^ T' °' ""'* '"' eood in itself
could be recogn,sed, the good being known only as

the .dea of H,s moral goodness was not understood,
therefore the idea of God's holiness is in the Old
Testament somewhat obscure; and for this reason it
lalls mto the background, even in the New Testa-
ment. Jcbta-

*
That God is holy does not mean merely, i„ a nega-

:rZ' "'^* ";''^'- -■' b"' also, i^ a positte
way, hat He w.lls good. His justice, especially on

Srr''^'-'-''^^^---^-'^'''--''-^"^''"

God's anger does not require to be propitiated ;

ml ?,Tk " ! ''"'^ '"^"- '■' ^^l-'--^^ 'ha' atone-
ment shall be made for sin.

It Is quite correct to say that God, according to

J ■';:-

1 -^

H '|i

:i i >

:: /Ht^

■M

i 1 :•

?■!'

230

STILL HOURS.

His own nature, requires a satisfaction to be made

for sin ; but He can never find this satisfaction in

punishment, in the ordinary sense of the word {i.e.

in penal retribution), but only in the real abolition

of sin itself. In the same way, it is quite true that

the sinner himself desires to see satisfaction offered

for his sin; but mere punishment, in the ordinary

sense (mere penal retribution), could never, as he

would gladly persuade himself, be such a satisfaction,

because* in it sin continues with even intensified force,

but only a real abolition of sin. The same is true

v/hen the satisfaction is specially considered as due

to the broken law.

It is an utter impossibility that a man should appro-
priate to himself the Divine pardon of his sins through
grace, if he does not at the same time confidently
believe that God will, because of this forgiveness,
finally set him free from all his sin.

In the idea of atonement for sin, the willingness
of God to pardon the sinner must be presupposed
as already existing. God's character requires, not
that this willingness shall be awakened by the atone-
ment, but that the moral possibility shall be presented
for putting it into effect.

It belongs to the nature of the anger of God, that
it does not require to be mitigated or appeased. It
is the anger of love, and requires only that the moral

RECONCILIATION.

' i !

231

possibility shall be presented for its being turned
away. **

By forgiveness of sins is meant the turning away
of the hatred due to the sin committed by any person
from that person himself; so that, while angry with
the sm, God is not at the same time angry with the
sinner but loves him in spite of Kis hatred of the
sin. The possibility of a separation between the
person and his sin is therefore presupposed.

^ We can have no clear idea of the doctrine of for-
giveness of sins, until we have a clear conception ot
the act of forgiveness itself The common idea is
merely, that when sin is forgiven the future conse-
quences of sin for the sinner (after death, at the
judgment m eternity, etc.) are removed, nothing
therefore happening m the smner himself. But the
true Idea of forgiveness of sin is. that it is a present

fn r . ° ^"r " "^''"" *° '^' ^•""-- It consists
in Gods testifymgto the sinner, by actually entering

into communion with him, that He has abolished

the consequences of his sin, of which the most im-

mediate ,s the cessation of the relation of friendship

and communion with God. which is changed into a

relation of anger. The act of forgiving consists in

Gods makmg the sinner conscious of His own

gracious attitude towards Him by actually realizing

It in his experience ; the forgiveness of sins happers

,^,|i'l?r

\--

2J2

STILL HOURS.

To the truly honourable man the Divine forgive-
ness of h,s sin is the most pressing of all necessities,
because ,t .s the primao' condition of real liberation
irom sin.

The forgiving mercy of God may be always
understood to mean that God. while LgivingT
P aces the sinner in a position to mortifyin hfmse f
the sm which has been forgiven.

One great conviction which we owe to Christianity

Ixtenl"'"''^ '''''^' ^""^ '"^'' ^' ^^' ^' ^°^'' '''"^^^'^
PREDESTINATION.

The apparent severity in the conception of Divine
predestination appears in a much milder light, when
we understand clearly, that election does not neces-
sanly occur only in the directly religious form.

*
Absolute antisynergism (with all its consequences
of absolute predestination, etc.) is a perfectly logical
consequence, when the relation of man to God is
considered as entirely religious, and not as being also
vtorally mediated.

' Cf. Sclnvalb, " Luther," p. 33, etc.

■; ! I

SVBSTITUTIOK.

different sense fro™ th' ."'' '"" ^'et in a

doctrine represent " ''' '" """'" "■= Church's

By the idea of the mprffc «f /-.. •
understand His m ritsM re, ,, "'' *' ""'^' ""'
■"erits in relationTo le r^r °" '° ^°''' ''"' "'^
merits of Chr St a ° '"'"'S'""' eoramunity. If the

men. Tl,ey n,ay ,'h„s be ac al y 1^?' '°
appropriated by others. ^ ^""■^'' *"d

yuSTlFICATION.

Justification must comi. ^r .-. i/-
also must come u„,Tv i ' ""™"S'''- ^ai'h
tion is of it elT ass "ed" " \"' "''" " ^■"^"■•^'^-
■•" order to be Ctm ^uM lot^r ^^ '° "^"^^^
and such a f-'th would not h ? '' '"" '■"■"■>
with it. "°' ''""S justification along

When sanctification is comnkte fh„ •
has been redeemed by g ace L 1 h ""."f '"^^

worthy of the gio^, whict !' tt L Id ,""'f
immanent necessitv^ nn^ ., "^'"^ v^"a tnis of

Here thereforff^r jI^T " *'" '''"^''
appears. -^ ''" "^^ wwww/m-

The ^,^„ ,„^a „f „,^ jjp.^^,^ ^^ ^j_^ ^^^^^

V, ,

Ir %

f-W

. Ihi

cws are

234

STILL HOURS.

moral acts which do not result in real spirit, and
therefore in vital, imperishable being, in the actor
himself.

*
The whole question as to « good works » exists
only m the sphere of abstract moral religiosity ;
m the sphere of religious morality the question is
solely as to good effects (products) which the subject
produces in himself and in his world. Not the
formal point of view, but the material, here lays
down the law.

REWARD.

Rezvardh the religious term for the moral concep-
tion oi fruit. The importance of moral proportion-
ateness ^ is here emphasized, but that of moral
interposition is not expressly touched upon.

That a merit should be rewarded is a self-contradic
tory Idea. It belongs expressly to the conception of
merit, that the man who deserves must (in his universal
culture) acquire something. Every reward which falls
to his share from others comes post festum. The
question can be only of recognition.

*
Rewards are not wages. Even in human affairs
the idea of reward excludes all claim of right.

*
To be worthy of anything and to deserve it are
two different matters. Our undeservingness in God's

KEIVARD.

the latterd a h " """'"'■°"- «" "-e contrary.
"ot und ;stod T'r"'^ "'^""^^ 'h. former wa
-■a«o„ rGod wl f °" "" "'^' ">- -. '"
bestowed upo„ hfm Bv cTT^ '^ """^ -"-'>'

onw.totr:rL';^;:.^~--^-^

direct taMsh"''.'''"™^'' ''"' P"^^'"'- "°t "y
' "t^b'^taent, but by moral production.

1'^

1 ' K

J-^ !

1 1

a(;

i '

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; i iJili :

THE PERSONAL LIFE OF THE
CHRISTIAN.

11!

i^ I:

1 1' i

>ii'

Th]
the>
plisF
reali
both

A]
toth
is at

divid

for

huma

race,

salvat

in its

Th€

sition

VII. THE PERSONAL LIFE OF THE
CHRISTIAN.

GOOD, VIRTUE, DUTY.

The complete separation of sin from man tl>ro„gh
tl^e efficacy of tlie atonement, and tlie perfect accom-
phshment of the moral tasic, ie. tl,e complete
real,^at.on of the highest .j, entirely coincide,
both as regards nature and time.

*
All that is truly a moral end, ,-... which corresponds
o the conception of the moral or personal creature.
IS at the same time moral good.

Christian virtue is that moral disposition of the in-
dividual by means of which he is specifically adapted
for realizing the absolute restoration of .fnful
humanity, alike in himself and in the whole human

salvat on This of course is absolutely true of it only
in Its full development. ^

The motive, as incitement or impulse, is the dispo.
sition in accordance with which I act, or determine

»39

t i

\mm

-1

i ^

i
i ■

* , i

'• \

! '

\ ■

240

STILL HOURS.

myself for or against the law. The true motive is
merely the virtuous disposition. Special motives
apart from the disposition do not exist.

*
The true motive of action must be the consciousness
of man's moral task, and the will to accomplish it.

Design and execution belong to the side of skill ;
motive and aim to that of the disposition. What may
be their nature in Christian virtue ?

Moral virtue in itself and as practised for its own
sake is the necessary foundation of public virtue.
1 his is the real opinion of Schmid ; " Chr. Sittenlehre,"
p. 5 14, etc.

The most important means of virtue (means of
grace) is the moral community.

*
Duty always presupposes, not only the existence of
imperfection, but the relative want of virtue and the
relative existence of vice.

Every system of moral duty is in its very nature
casuistic.

Duty can always be described only as a definite
mode of action, never as a disposition. Thus, e.g.
we speak of becoming virtuous, which implies the
acquirement of possession knowledge, honour, etc.

^it

INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL MORALITY.

241

Exclusive of our duties to ourselves (asceticism),
duties can have reference only, on the one hand, to
the entrance into special circles of the community, and
on the other, to the mode of action within these
circles, so as to produce from the existing confusion
a perfect universality and normality.

INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL MORALITY.

If morality and religion are not to be purely
identical conceptions, the notion of the former must
originate directly in the idea of another relation of
man than his relation to God.

Strict morality is attainable only along with an
unconditional acknowledgment of the legitimacy of
the moral principle as such, and hearty devotion to
positive moral tasks.

The honestum means that which is worthy of man •
that is, moral good. '

Moral good signifies that which through its own
self-determination corresponds to its original concep-
tion. ^

The real meaning of those who define the
"conscience" as the principle of religion is, that the
principle of piety lies in the moral constitution of
man, whose qualities as a moral being necessarily
mclude a relation to God. In other words, religion
exists because there is a personal creature.

» »■'

4 %■■

242

STILL HOURS.

possess.o„ of lus own, only if he understands that by
'ts means alone man can become truly spiritual.

■JL^T "'""'" '"■''" ^^'" °" ^""■. exactly
m proportion as ,ve have this life i„ ourselves in

ovv?selftf °""''- '"°""y°«"'-= by virtue of its
own self-determ.nafon. For this very reason we
ought not. to call it occurrence, but Lon TW

attribute, is found even in the animal \. •

rr,nc^;« , animal, is 2« concreto

consciousness and activity.

Ja^^ T- '''' ''?'"" °' *= "O'^' '^h!ch must be
understood ,„ order to its scientific comprehension
are, the results (products) to be produced by self,
deermmat-on, the forces which constitute self-

wWcHr ";;"'*'■' """"""f production (actions)
which proceed from self-determination.

the self-determmation of the creature. From the
proper self-determination of the creature has arisen
the very power of self-determination, besides virtue
and the concrete mode of self-determination, or action

n accordance with duty (which is such only because
the subject has expressly determined itself to this

_ ^jmiVIDUAT^m^ SOCIAL UORAUTy. ,,3

essl" til Tr. "[ ^?'°"^^^h7^^^^„,,

The religious forms no contrast to the moral for
they are both comprehended in the same ^de^ but

reSon ' " *""" ""^"'"^ (^'"^^'^-') - with

*
The great importance of the Kantian philosoDh„
co„s,sts mainly in the fact that we owe to it the dear
=c.e„t,fic consciousness that the moral law holds Jood
even apart from belief in God. (C/ Thite fnt
theologisirende Rechts und Staatslehre." "79,; °"

Why is man surrounded with material nature in all
■ts vastness and riches, if in his moral endowme t h
has no ,p„i,, ,^^^ .^ ^^^^^^^^^ ^^ it-if hirmlral
S$? not also involve certain social obl^ari

miled ''""'"." "'°'* "^ """ ■""=' ^' "'°«l'y deter,
mmed accordmg to the nature and degree of hL

2'fy. not absolutely according to L gene^
-m tne moral pomt of view, according to the nature

1 11 HI it

mil

].!

'"'

244

STILL HOURS.

Sisr °' '" =''"^'""'-«- ^y which it „.

.n.^^-r""'? •'''' *'"'''" "''"■'='• ""<'«'• "rtain social

ondmons (.,«&/,) is very wrong, may be, absolutely

cons,dered ^„oratisch), most commendable. The

TTJ T f^'"^'-">'--"-°" may be correct in
the a t.on. but .t may be directed towards a mistaken

VmON OF GOD AND MAN.

diiectly, ,.e. not otherwise than through causal
means ; and (.) He does not act upon man w thou
med.at.on «. „ot magically, not without some poin
of con act m man himself and in his own actfvity
not without expressly addressing Himself to man^
receptmty-are not by any means synonymous

The definition of the workings of Divine grace as
an ^nfl,ausDe^ fhysicns is very accurate. They are
^o partly because the active causality in them is th"
Du^^ne nature, or more exactly the nature of the
Redeemer, the Holy Ghost ; and its direct object in

sTder d as "?"' ^ °'^''"'^'" »' "o''^' ""''her con-
sidered as material or as spiritual.

*
Every assumption of a physical, ;>. not morally
med,a ed, umon of God with the creature-of a unio^
wh.ch .s m ,ts nature material, a„d which concerns

UNION 01' GOD AND MAN.
■ 2|5

some other part of the creature than the spirit is
essentially heathenish. sp,rit~is

coJdil"''lf °\ T'' "^' ~"^'''"'^^ ='"d ■•s the

form ty of h,s conduct to the n.oral norm or standard
not s quantfty. The question here is not as to the
relafon between the finite and the infinite, which is !
merely quantitative distinction, but as to l^l^la on
between the holy and the good. This mu t n ver be
forgotten in the study of Christology.

nev^erVe""" °' ^'^. "'***^ P''^^™^' "mature can
never be comprehended as a congruence of the being

onlv L ZT ''''"' "'^''- '" "•- case, buf
only m th,s, the canon in the theology of the Re

betweerCoT'T *'"''''*=«^""-'^ that a communion
between God and man can take place in a purely
physical manner, «. otherwise than by means of a
moral process, is mere Docetism.

*
In His work for man it is the constant fate of God
to be misunderstood.

The direct indwelling of God in man never occurs
as only physical, but always as morally mcdTated!

h'nl

lU:

1 1

5,1 ^

l;i

t' 1 5 L

246

STILL HOURS.

aJlthough it certainly rests on an action of God upon
the nature of man. ^

tiaHvofT'"'"" '"°"'^ °™"«- «■ "^■^^ «^en.
t.aUy of the same nature as God ; but it will not be
de-fied, «. ,t W.11 not be made identical with Him.

^ The only possibih'ty of a creature becoming God
IS by perfectly uniting itself with God.

thilr't-'u"""''''' ^"^ " ■""" ■""=' «^^' be some,
thmg which ,s capable of possessing Him and also

something which God can possess. "°' ^""^ "^

When God dwells in a creature, He can do so only
as an acfve agency. And this is true of c.ery spirft
m Its own degree.

UNION OF MAN AND GOD.

.L^Z '° ^"^'T' ^" '"^"'^' "' ''^^"■■'=»" efficacy,
somethmg very different from mere love to the good
■n and for itself I„ the former case we knowThat
our do.ng and suffering cause joy or sorrow to the
pesona! good One, and that is. in many cases, the
only motive which can touch the heart.

siofnf '!r *"" "° ""^""-^"^^s, no feeling, no impres-
r„H r[ t TT' ''^''^ *="-^rterizes belief in God
and Chnst, should say nothing at all on the subject

. ""'O" OF MAN AND COD.

Man possesses „o special organ for relioion^TT
has a religion because he is Ln, L be au'e he
possesses an ego; but he has in his eT^l "
organ, in order that in him God may tdtd n^
a '.thou. Because man can grasp'the dro^^r

S:rcre:- tinir 7"- ""^^°- "•'-"

can exist for him s n o^e'cr^^:^ "^""^ ^"^
God because he possesse 1 ""derstand

standing. Possesses the power of under-

In the normal human development, the earliest of

?— rs;"5ir^s:;,-r:;••"■"
He who believes in the jrood is for f^.-c
the fact. ^ ^^ ^"'^^ ""^^^are of

they dtn^bXTrc'^/r"'^ '""'°^' ^'^<' ">^'
r o not believe m God, because in this vvav their

!lif

iliJ

.', * :

24S

STILL HOURS.

habitual discontent with their situation does not
appear as if directed against God.

*
Happiness, i.e. absolute satisfaction, can be secured
to the personal individual only by communion with
God, because this communion is a completion of the
individual by the absolute being, the absolute fulness
of being, and consequently an absolute fulfilment of
life.

The true position of a man's heart towards God is
not that to which he has given expi jssion out of
opposition to another who has been seeking in some
way to force belief upon him.

Truly that man knows something of religion, who
can only wonder, in all humility, how God is able to
make of such a weak and (morally) fragile vessel a
creature worthy of His grace.

Since God created a world from love, and in order to
love His personal creature, therefore the only relation
of the personal creature which corresponds to the
true conception of his relation to God is that he shall
love God and surrender himself to Him.

The personal creature leads a real, i.e. a wakeful,
life, only when he is in correspondence with an out-
ward environment. If the organs for this are wanting
or fail him, God is yet able to place him in corre-

PR AVER.

249

spondence with Himself, and thus he can really "live
to God." (0^. Luke XX. 37, 38.) ^

*
If man can serve God. then he can render Him
real services (against Wuttke. " Sittenlehre," p. 445)

for with God there is no mere court-service.

O how man prospers, when he is obedient to God !

PRAYER,

Prayer is an appropriation of the Divine nature
(2 1 et. 1, 4), a direct appropriation cf the Divine spirit.

^ Prayer, in the province of religion, resembles social
intercourse, especially social conversation.

*
Prayer is the actualising of the religious impulse
the yearning after God. just as worship is the actual-
ismg of the religious emotion.

*
To the conception of appropriation belong two
essentially separate moments. The individual who
appropriates first assumes the natural object of
appropriation, he takes it to himself or absorbs it
and afterwards incorporates it with his own nature
by a process of inner assimilation, transubstantiation
or digestion. In religious appropriation these two
moments are also distinct. In this case the receptive
moment is asking, making request; the transub-
stantiating moment is thanksgiving. Without both

\ ii

SfiT

\ .

250

STILL HOURS.

request and thanksgiving, prayer is incomplete
Between the two there lies, of course, as an inter-
mediate point, the certainty of being heard, which
therefore forms an essential part of every true prayer.
{Cf. Matt. xxi. 21, 22 ; xi. 22-34; Jas. i. 5-8.)

*
He whom men have rendered unhappy must see
to it that he maintains friendship with God, so that
at all times he may cast himself with his sorrow upon
His bosom, and there let his tears have vent.

Only He who created man can truly sympathise
with and fully understand the peculiar idiosyncrasy
of the human individual in his development through
his unique course of life.

*
O if only a folio in calf could understand the feel-
ings of a i6mo in paper cover! God alone can
sympathise with the smallest as well as with the
greatest.

*
How great is God, who can understand even the
most embittered and soured disposition, to which no
human being can find the key, and although it is
no longer in relations of love to any one, can yet
bring it into relations of love and confidence to
Himself

*
Every man has a circumscribed sphere of vision,
whose eye does not reach as far as God.

jff^Z/^/- IN GOD^S PROVIDENCE.

251

To possess a God is. in every^^i^T^e"^
a precious thing ; many think it costs too dear. '

man"'Tu?-r "^' ""'' '^^""^ "^^"^^ '^ -- as
man , but if vvc disaccustom ourselves to this inter-
course, then, indeed, it wi„ appear a most unnatural

*
Ah! how earnestly one longs to be a child again
to hve once more in the immediate present !

He who carries in himself an unconquerable need

Possession is i„ concnto inspiration, in a religious
sense enthusiasm (.V 9,^ „i™<r^i,). - "'

BELIEF m CODS PROVIDENCE.

As in h-fe's morning we lie down, free from care
and m deep content, in our mother's lap, so, when
Wes evenmg comes, do we lay ourselves down in th
fatherly arms of God, only then with far clearer con!
scousness and with fuller and tenderer emotions.

It is a good sign when both joy and sorrow have
a salutary mfluence in a man's moral trainingl
specally good when their influence is exerteS in
equal proportion. exertea m

\ \m

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STILL HOURS.

In the province of spiritual activity, God has so
appointed that, as a rule, the individual is incapable
of doing what he ought not to do.

Every yearning, every longing which arises from
a true individual need, may be certain of one day
findnig full satisfaction (Matt. v. 3-6 ; John x. 10).

In the life of a human individual who has yielded
himself to God, all discords must finally cease.
' *

It is bitter, and yet precious and needful, that in
all our learning we have to learn at last, how many
of the objects of our eager study were not worthy of
being learned at all.

If only any one could truly know how, from the
first moment of its existence, God cares for the poor
creature that is born of man. in all the weakness
which It inherits from its parents !

God makes His sun to rise, not alone over the evil
and the good, but also over the sorrowful and the
glad.

How are we to find out in what way God would
have us serve Him ? God seeks to have every man's
work just where he can most successfully develop
and actualise his own peculiar gift. He is most

THE WORTH OF LIFE.

*
The life of most men is order vl nr ff, •

The Christfan looks upon the scenes of his past
life, not as battle-plains and ruins but .1 i
fields^ ruins, out as harvest-

THE WORTH OF LIFE

na.t rtrrr f^o? b rr ^"^ -i -"^

not. Wo., .ake an, JeTt To.-: ^1?^ '"^^
Every possession certainly affords liappiness ,V

«t:"' "' " "-"^^"'^ ^" objer/Ssi^;

Decause it is a means to our moral end.

The main point i„ human life, alike in that of the

ha it" "J """""""^' ''^ -' merely that •

s be correct, but also that it shaU have real mor

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STILL HOURS.

The most abstract conception of life is the relation
of the being to itself.

The contemplation of our earthly life as a "vale of
tears " is a natural consequence of that life being
considered exclusively as that of the individual, not
as also that of the race. How can love obtain its
rights if we look upon the matter thus }

*
Life and every vocation in life may be beautiful,
if only hyed in a manner worthy of man.

*
Man's life would not be worth living, if there were
not treasures m it far higher than the sensual life of
the individual.

Human life includes so much real gold, so many
precious jewels, that he who knows these will not
be tempted to set it off with gewgaws.

VOCATION IN LIFE.

The most pressing necessity for a Christian man
I^ mean for one who really believes in Christ, even
simply in the salvation of hi. soul, is that he shall
nave some good work to do.

God does not lequire that each individual shall
have capacity for everything.

One lesson which it costs us all much trouble to

WORK.

'"""• ■'« >vhich we all m^T^ITi;

prosper and do eood t„ Tt ' ™^ "■■« «°

nothing more and nl ^ ^ '' '° '''=^'^= '» b^

-..yglvenusthec^d^^reir''^"''''-

"o™^''„::aiiirnnr"'"'^^^-''^

which is set before T- 5 "^ ""'•''' '^*

measure of moral Cet a',""'' '"= '^■J"-''-
butonly /ofe^J f '". ^i"^J'«Present,-„ot«.,„,

it actualCra'ct o "',"'' ""''"^-'f "-t rende

exertion. Hence verv" ''™'"'"'°"' ''>"""°-'

a direct increasTof^rrrforro:;.":: "^' ''
of the effort depend.,. °" ""' "'^ "-^^''ty

To be able to work
sweet for us to bear.

with a light heart must be

/■Si

S^'J

r I fl'fl

Mil

too

III!

256

STILL HOURS.

He who has work to do, a task to perform, needs
no recreations.

Day and night exist just as far as there is an
alternation of work and rest.

For the perfected spiritual creature there exists no
longer action, but only influence.

Formative action is essentially efficacious. It has
an outward product, because it always occasions a
change in > its object. We may reverse the idea, and
say that perceptive action is an absorption of the
object of perception by the subject which perceives.
In this case, the former remains unchanged ; the latter
only is otherwise determined.

HUMILITY.

Only a good man can be truly modest and humble.
But if he considered himself so, would he then be
humble and modest ? It belongs, therefore, to the
conception of humility and modesty, that their pos-
sessor should be unconscious of their presence.

Humility presupposes courage, elasticity of self-
determination.

No one will go far wrong who assumes that the
average moral rank of his historical circle is much
higher than that of his own individuality.

SELF-RESTRAINT.

257

Well for him who knows and honestly adm^
somethmg greater than himself and his own par-
ticular friends. ''

Modesty can and ought to be united to the con-
saousness of high personal gifts, beeause along with
hese there exist always and of necessity corre^^ond-
mg defiaenc.es m other respects. (I„ opposition to
Schopenhauer, "Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellun.. >'
11., p. 484, etc.) *"

The best proof of a man's sincerely thinking h'ttle
o himself ., that it does not occur to his mind to
use others as means to his personal ends.

*
How happy is the man who knows nothing of
boastful self-consciousness !

To feel dissatisfaction with one's self is the surest
method of rendering satisfaction to others.

A man must have a long neck, if he is to bend his
head m true humility.

SELF-RESTRAINT.

.ea" ?t aloTe" '"'^ """"^ '" ^"^ ^-'^- '^^ ''™

We fail to realize the ideals which we had set
before us for the pursuit of our later life, b cau
the world around us is alwav. r^op-,,.^

' ! hi '

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258

STILL HOURS.

of avoid J^;,/,f";t! ".'" ""'' "^"^^^ ^ P""-P'-

quently deceived than he who with tlaidTf It
secret chronicle hears the grass crow! *'

Is it reaJy impossible to carry on a work w.>h

::::e::rt;n7;;r^^^'^----^^^^^^^^^

.•n/erer"i?ti;r'''"""""^ '" ''"^^ "° P"™'^
merits. In th.s respect, monastic hfe is to be

It is a common but impure and dangerous motive
to seek personal promotion through devotion to a
good cause It springs from a want of sm pi city
and unity of purpose. simplicity

rNDEPENDENCE.

Dur freedom. It ,s complete abandonment of M
■outward allies in order to a con,„i,.
thetyrannyofourownselLer^'^ ""™''" *°

^_ INDEPENDENCE.

It is, perhaps, not so hard after a.l to be a slave
■f only the work of a free man is not laid upo'us

Dependence on fashion is coarseness and bar-
barism. ***

.i,"m f'^fV^'"''^' ^"'' »"^™idable that a man
hould fee the grief and pain of his individual li e.
and struggle to attain the mastery over them; bu
to enlarge upon his troubles to others, even t^ his
nearest friends, to make them a subject of conL
d.scuss,o„, ,s, to say the least of it, nnmanly.

We should learn from everybody; but NB for
our own especial work. *

The natural man is always disposed to bow before
the arbitrary will, especially in religious matters.

All human individuals are not built an equal
number of storeys high. ^

tha°onhf "L-"' '': P^''^'^^" "»™-"'ndecIness,
that of the sold,er, the clergyman, the courtier, etc.

^ Is it really impossible, even in Christendom, to
have recourse successfully in our exertions for the
good of the world, to men's pure and sincere desire

26o

STILL HOURS.

I^fish::!"'""' --^"-'u- of Incen.Ves to

Nothing is lofty which is not elevating.

The richly gifted person can sacrifice almost everv-
thing, but never hb own spiritual or moral force.
This may be appi; d to Christolorv.

*
It is a sad misfbrt H.e that, in order to carry on
any work well in ..e world, we must have a profound
conviction ofus relative worthlessness. Th^ makes
hfe very hard for the thorough worker.

hJ!" T.™ °^ "'' '"■""'' "O'-'^" '■= 'o tWnk very

As opposed to the man who does not hesitate to
employ even the worst means for the attainment of
h. own ends, the only safe course is to renounce al.
means wh.ch are even ambiguous. The weakness of
the good ahvays consists in its impurity.

ferl'i'.rr''?'' '™* '° ''° '■" "-^ '^''-^ '■' ■■"'^'-f-

ferem to the charms with which others ticlcle his
upt^:r""'°''"~'^-°--''«''o stands

DIGNITY.

26l

^ ^e may speak of self-love as a lawful thing only
in the sense that we surrender our empirical per-
sonahty to our ideal personality ; which has been
given us to realize, or which is, to a certain extent
already realized. '

*
According to a man's own essential nature is his
understanding of outward things. The reflection of
these thmgs corresponds to the quality of the mirror.

*
The self-consciousness of the individual is the
soundmg-board of the world around him.

DIGNITY.

True dignity consists in yielding obedience with
■nwclable fa.th and self.sacrii5ce to what we under-

"ght, the lugher is the dignity and the nobler its
nature.

Cheerfulness is inseparable from true earnestness.

The nobility of a scientific production determines
Itself according to the general moral character of the
personality behind it.

the^i,!'" k''""''"' '''. °' '"''""^'y '^^^ '■■"P^'ance than
tne man who occupies it.

It is well worth the trouble to awaken the sense of

, ■ !

262

STILL HOURS.

honour. U the sense of human or of Christian
d.gn.ty. Nothing more effectually excludes ambm""

We look with indulgent eyes on the proud self,
consaousness of the youthful spirit, because it carr s
n .tself such a wealth of possibilities, which it hope

ITl T, ? • ^"^ ^' '°' "'^ ■"» "■ho can look
back w,th lofty self-consciousness on the work he has
accomphshed-well, if he can do it, it is not worth
vvhile to prevent him 1

. *

The man who is satisfied with himself-whatever
worse th,ng: he may be besides-is at least a ptli
tine and pedant.

Can human pride go so far as that a man, because
he ed and perhaps feels wrongly, that he cannot be
much to some other with whom he is closely con-

and most dismterested affection, must turn against
that other in bitter enmity ? ^

cuiwvT''-""'' '!""" ^' "''" ='""'"e o"' '"™ °f

culture, who smcerely consider that their own opinions
are open to contradiction ?

*
A man may be perfectly certain of his own convic-

SliWe ""' ""' "°"''^" '"■'"''='' °" 'h^' ^«°""'

HAPPINESS. -SUFFERING.

263

HAPPINESS.

The happy man possesses this great means for the

rhrim1er^'^'"'^'°-^

,„r^- '' r "T^^^ "'^" "'"'• *•'=" *■« '■'« down to
mor'ntag '° '"'' °^ ^' ^™''''"S ^'g^"" ■" the

He alone can be happy who has work appointed
him m hfe, which he really possesses the ability to

The longing for happiness is not self-love.

SUFFERING.

What others term their "yoke," we Christians call
oy a nobler name, our " cross."

*
When God lays an obstacle in any man's way it
proves a hindrance only to his influence in and for
he world, not to what he becomes in himself. On

^l^T^:- V' " '"'''"' ^"'^^^"^^ '^ h^'" ^n this
respect. It ,s by no means easy for any man to bear

the former patiently ; but the purer his heart and the
deeper h,s knowledge of God, the easier does it be-
come to him.

*
There is no such thing as unbearable pain; when
It becomes really unbearable, it breaks the heart

i I

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264

STII.T HOUh\^.

\v-\

either physically or morally. So long as it can be
felt, it can be endured.

The brightest hours of the unhappy man are those
in which he is overcome by the feeling of unspeakable
misery. In f be piercing sharpness of such grief lies
a soothing, solt-ning power. Why cannot we linger
always on this bright and peaceful summit of pain,
where the oppressed bosom can at last draw a breath
of relief.?

The omnipotence of God often appears lo me most
marvellously displayed in all that it permits a poor,
weak child of man to suffer.

There are people who, after experiencing in their
youth the happiness of joy, come in their old age to
enjoy the happiness of suffering.

*
To take pleasure in the smallest things of life is
the noble privilege, not nly of ciiildhood, but also of
misfortune.

If a gloomy life is only enlightened I -e and there
by one single gleam of bright sunshine ;ve that is
sufficient, for it shows that the sun has risen and is
shming i . ; the sky. The full daylight will break upon
our view when once we have reached the borders of
the cloud of mist, for beyond it all is light.

SUFFERING.

265

Suffering, with all its pain and humiliation, would
not be so hard to bear if it did not make us. while it
lasts, so weary and so slothful.

*
Dqi omnia laboribus et dolorihis vendunt.

can only res'^n

There are situations in which w
ourselves to the will of God.

*
We have made a great step forward if we have got
so far as to consider even our warmest wishes as of
no importance, and have laid them quietly in the
grave,

Many - nan finds it a hard task to be satisfied
with, and heart / grateful for, the gifts which God
has given him.

The mrai who has learned resignation knows best
the great tenacity of life, when he sees how new
claims on life are always arising in his breast, even
after his hopes have long been laid aside.

If a man has once for all renounced all earthly
joys, then he is in a real and certain sense already
dead. He lives only so far as life is work— a life
without a Sabbath, which must often appear to him
very long.

True oietv and fhe mmprAimnqio" nf •^'- -^of-i

' i' ; ' I '

if:"-

can

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366

STILL HOURS.

iiven Goethe was aware of this. ^'

No one is ennobled without suffering.

^ i'unering. God cannot show His n^n
*

■ng and strengthening of one man's will: the school
of suffenng has the same effect upon another

If we have no great sufferings to bear, we are apt
to become so sensitive to small ones fh.f •

little heHf^r .,.A , *^^^ °"*' case is

If a man is thoroughly unhappy, he gets over a
thousand difficulties in life with the utmosfeLe.

-'ifATU/^ITy.-OLD AGE.

267

lyinj

There is no true human happiness without a deep-

sorrow,

trnlV!,^^"' "^^P^"^"^^ has ripened looks for no un-
troubled joy on earth.

MATUA'ITY.

The experienced master may be always distin-
«u he from the childish apprentice by'the fa t
that the former, while working no less earnestly

CIZT'"^ "' "'"= ■■'"P"^'-' =■- °f office t^^
wh.ch the latter performs the duties of his vocation

Maturity, or ripeness, cannot be inborn, because
t belongs to ,ts very conception to be developed
«^ough the determining influence of man's person
ahty upon h,s material nature considered as i pro-
cess of organic development.

OiD ACE.

That which we have spent a whole life in labor-

i^g oidTr'"' "^^ ^""^ '""' ™'^ ^""-"^ ^

bril! > ^'°''' ^''^'' '° "^ '"'^>' ^^>^' -^^"l ^^^h day
brings It nearer to its close.

In youth we dream of a thousand wanderings
dangers, and adventures, which we shall have tJ
pass through in the life that lies before us : and

Mi !'

jt!a

!. 'I.' ?

268

STILL HOURS.

When in old age we look back upon our past career-
yes, we find that we have passed through them all,
but it has been inwardly, in cur hearts.

*
It is sweet to look back on our own life, when we
have done with it for ever, as a work of the wise and
holy grace of God in the midst of the confusion of
our own sin and folly.

One beautiful and pleasant thing m old age is
that it is able, quite naturally, and without any
appearance of affectation, to retire into the hindmost
rank, behmd the generations of mature men and of
youths.

One of the charms of old age is, that it is able
without cowardice to retire into the hindmost rank.

^ As youch sings out before the world, so old age
sings softly to itself

How we rejoice, at the close of a long life, to think
that we shall soon enter upon an entirely new career!

There are some men who have their youth in old
age.

In old age all man's earthly possessions decay, and
so do also his systems.

DEATH.

269

That which so easily causes a separation between
youth and old age is the great difference in their
appreciation of the value of things.

In extreme old age we gradually forget all that
we have so laboriously learned, with the exception
of the understanding of, and capacity for, good and
evil. All the social side of morality gradually falls
away; the moral alone remains indestructible, because
spiritualized.

In the course of a long life the individual man
becomes so indescribably small and insignificant in
his own eyes that he thinks it full time for him to
go to sleep.

God is gracious in letting us grow old, for there
are many lessons which old age alone can teach.

DEATH.

The imperfect created spirit cannot continue to
exist in our present sphere of existence after it has
been divested of the body ; it must, on account of
its embryonic nature, be placed under the conditions
of an embryonic existence. These are in their com-
plex Hades or Harare?. At the close of the earthly
sphere, this Hades, which is a complex of media of
a purely preservative agency of God, will be finally
annihilated (Rev. xx. 14).

■

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270

STILL HOURS.

For the regenerate man there exists, after death,
no temptation to new sin, for the outward source of
fleshly as of selfish sin is now sealed up by the
abolition of the material body, the primary principle
of both. ^

Regeneration is not fully perfected until after
death. The spiritual body must be complete before
regeneration can be really perfected.

Death is not, as is commonly believed, the entire
separation of soul and body, but only the separation
of the soul from the material body.

How many a man will stand amazed and wonder-
ing, when he awakes from the sleep of death and
beholds the possessions which he gathered up during
this present life— with fear and horror !

When we close our eyes in death, we have for-
gotten all that we toiled on earth to learn ; we know
then only good and evil.

In death we may bid farewell to life with content-
ment and joy ; to the saddest life no less than to the
happiest.

How often does God. by causing a sudden, natural
death, mterfere with an "improper" miracle in the
course of nature's laws.

beabsurd't'^'r-' '" P"^°"=" -'-t'"-. i' would
absurd to make .t our desire and duty to lov..

It is no self-deception on our part that deafh

..orj^s the departed in our .e A ;tt'rcat
.s that we then grasp the whole character of the
d parted, not merely the separate local features of
h^ .mage A similar fact occurs as regardrtte
absent, and for a precisely similar reason.

Life would not be a right thing without death.

During his maturer life the individual is obliged
to hve for the community to which he belon<.s • „
death, as m his earliest childhood, he lives for ome
moments entirely to himself. The solemnity odeaTh
must have some connection with this idea.

■i'

socllVut" ' t'"r """'""^ himself from del5„ito.
social duties, which are expres.,ly laid upon him.

willfinan't ""'"'" "'■^^*"'^"' °f '"« =>"--■ body
will finally become a mere excrement.

coj^rma^TfOJv of ufe after death.
As the saved individual in the regnum ^lori<c will

s teTinTrr r°" '°'"P'^"='^ '° ^'^ otl
saved mdmduals through personal communion with

them, so .t will always appropriate to itself by mas
^ "" """* ^uuiiuuon aii (spiritual) natural

'"l

'^ i'

■ II ;

i !

! \

;ii

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272

STILL HOURS.

beings. In this way its own life will be constantly
expanding, although the individual boundaries of its
being, which have only ceased to be barriers, will
remain undisturbed.

The physical torments of hell will not be merely
sensual, but neither will they be entirely uusensua/,
because the bodies of the lost did not achieve a
pure and true spirituality. That in them which
approximated to spirit will be more and more
resolved into matter, and they will thus become
always moro susceptible to material pain.

*
The functions of glorified, personal creatures are
essentially the functions of the Divine Logos, which
dwells within them, and which constantly exercises
its functions through creatures, as its organs. They
are therefore world-creating, world-preserving, and
world-governing functions or activities. ^

*
At the complete glorification of the earth, the
locality of the kingdom of death, at least as a place
of punishment, will be eo ipso abolished.

A curious preconception which we usually form,
especially in the case of the Biblical writers, is that,'
if we assume that the existence of human individuals'
continues in the flesh after this life is over, we must,
in consequence, maintain that it lasts on for ever.
' Hence, 1 Cor. vi. 23.

In the life to come, the great question vvill^i^
what we know, but what we are; and, in connexion
with this, what we can do.

What a comforting thought it is for the man who
suits no caHing here on earth, that God will there
have some little post ready, even for him. in which
He will have work for him to do.

How I long for the monotony of heaven, where
everyone labours actively and in well-ordered routine
at his own daily work, uninterrupted by the trifles
ot our so-called life.

In heaven we shall undoubtedly have to think and
to^will; therefore we shall require the capacity for

*
The saying, that every man will be saved who
really does what he can, is founded, quite apart from
every other idea, on the narrow-minded error that
the salvation of man can consist only in the reflex of
what he actually is in his own consciousness.

*
All that is here denied to any individual of the
pure and full human happ^ne.s which is enjoyed in
the relations of social intercourse, is laid up for him
m heaven, not only in und:niiuu.hed degree, but also
in Its purest form.

In this present life none of us arc in our action

1 • ^\'

"H^i

fii-h^

274

STILL HOURS.

What we are in ourselves, or what we really wish to
be, on account of the hindrances which hem us in
on every side, both in our inner and our outer world.
Th. ,s why we find it so hard to love each other
wholly and perfectly,-hardest of all in the case of
those who stand in the closest relations to us. It
will be otherwise in the perfect life to come.

Our organ of emotion is destined for eternity, no
Jess than our organ of understanding.

*
He who believes in God must also believe in the
contmuance of man's life after death. Without this
there could be no world which would be conceivable
as a purpose of God.

He to whom this hYe does not appear high and
honourable can have no true Ion,i„g for .he hTe to

vaW in""'"^''' °' ' continuation of life can have
value m a man's eyes only in so far as it is the pros
pect of the continuance of life for the sake of one or
several other persons.

* Not merely wish to appear.

THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE
CHRISTIAN.

1 ■ k

1 lp

■' .: }

! i-

MjJrl

1 !

I 1

' I

fi^

VIII. THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THE
CHRISTIAN.

THE SOCIAL SPHERE.

The four special modes of existence in a community
-public life, science, art, and society-arise and are
developed from the family ; and, without being done
away with as such, they again coalesce in the higher
unity of the state. On its side, again, the state is only
the full explication of the family, which has become
merged in it, but whose existence is not thereby
abolished.

Society, and therefore the sphere of action that
embraces social duty, must erect itself like a pyramid
from beneath, must rise from the most elementary
social relations, those of the family and of municipal
hfe, which furnishes the basis of all other associations
in the state. Only in proportion as man fulfils his
duties within that sphere of family and civil life can
he extend his actions as concerned with social duties
beyond that range.

Even Christian life in ^ts historical devt^.^ ,ent

977

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278

ST/LL HOURS.

began w ith the life of the family ; and so human life,
both in general and in each individual case, begins
in exactly the same way.

*
Hospitality is an enlargement, or opening out-
wards, of the sphere of social fellowship.

A community of universal formation is possible
by means of the usefulness of its product— works ; a
community of individual formation by means of the
agreeableness of its product— possession ; a com-
munity of universal perception by means of the truth
of its product— knowle,!;Te ; a community of indi-
vidual perception by li : r;, of the beauty of its pro-
duct — works of art.

All organization depends on the distinction and
the perfect poising of a contrast, i.e. in such a way
that both sides shall be evenly balanced. The con-
trast is that of unity and multiplicity, of the general
and the particular. It is required that the latter
shall exist as such without detriment from the former,
and vice vend. This demand is satisfied by central-
ization. In this case the unity, the pure universal,
is placed in the centrality, but in such a way that no
injury accrues to the being of the multiplicity, thr.
particular. The many particular beings exist un-
injured, but entirely under the potency of the unity,
the universal. Unity and multiplicity exist thus in
one another. In this consists the separation of the

THE SOCIAL SPHERE.

279

contrast. Hence an actual society can be formed
only in a mulfplicity by means of its organization.

Organization is in general the normal condf*
of every community, because on it rests the ab ^
reciprocity of communication. This is possible in
Its perfection, only when by means of the absolute
centralization of all points the universal exercise of
the functions is secured ; so that, while every separate
point in its function directly serves the whole the
whole itself exists directly for the service of every
separate point {i.e. of all the other separate points in
their functions).

The organization of the social community rests on
the emphasizing of the contrast between the leaders
and followers of fashion.

Spiritual light, of which our empirical aether is
only a symbol, the hi^^a of the New Testament, is
the organic medium through which personal spirits
act upon each other, through which, in the widest
sense of the word, they manifest themselves to each
other, etc. Therefore it is the true element of their
hfe, but one which is inherent in their own spiritual
nature, not one which exists outside them. It be-
comes outward only as proceeding from them in their
mutual influence upon each other. It is therefore
the true element of their social intercourse.

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28o

STirj. HOURS.

At the beginning of the development of moral
society, its vitality and might lean predominantly to-
ward the individual side (social life and art) ; but the
farther it advances the more completely is this mode
of relation reversed, and the more predominant for
society becomes the significance of its universal side
(public life and science). This development, how-
ever, proceeds in such a way, that the longer it con-
tinues the more thoroughly are the individual forms
taken up into the universal.

The public festival is the widest circle of social
intercourse.

In an abnormal development the military pro-
fession has to be added to the other classes of public
life.

Community of action is achieved by the mutual
communication of its products, but not also of its
functions. This is produced in different modes in
the various spheres of social intercourse, (i) In the
community of formative action by the exchange of
Its products, especially {a) in its universal character
by mutual transference, interchange of things {b) in
its individual character by their mutual exhibition
interchange of property. (2) In the community of
perceptive action by the representation of its pro-
ducts, namely {a) on the universal side by means
of speech, representation of knowledge ; {b) on the

SOCIAL DUTIES.-TNTF.RCOURSE.

38f

individual side by means of the symbol, rcprcscnta-
tion of ideas.

SOCIAL DUTIES.

We have general duties as men, as Christians, and
we have the special duties of our profession. Both
are duties towards others.

We must clcariy distinguish between our duties to
the state, and our duties as regards the four distinct
spheres of action in the social community. The latter
are related to the former as the special to the uni-
versal. To the former class belong the duties of our
profession.

The tendency directed towards the community
must not be pressed forward in such a way as to
hinder the development of individualities.

INTERCOURSE.
If a person is unable to find the psychological key
to the individual temperament of another with whom
he is united by the ties of close relationship, he is
certainly in a very difficult position.

*
The man who invented abbreviations within the
sphere of man's social relations, belongs to the
benefactors of his race.

^ Where I am forced to admire. I have neither the
inclination nor the courage to criticise.

^:'r

I \f

i i

r ii

282

ST//,L HOURS.

1 11
.1 1

We should despise nothinT^TuT'^^l^^ir^t
-ther should .0 .ake a great outcry about 'any

A very good maxim for praetical life is to prefer
to wonder at some people on account of their ^ncx

c^::^:;^''"" ^^'^" '- '» '- '- «"-

and willing frankly to confess himself in the wrong.
A certain degree of narrow-mindedness is the con.

circle, no matter in what department.

*
It is a poor honour to be considered a remarkably

We ought, at least, to show respect to the man
whose position we would gladly occupy ourselves

JtTT^""^ '' ^'"''"' '^"^ ^' '^^ '^^^ time more
difficult, than scolding.

*
Nothing is cheaper than scolding.

In your intercourse with your neighbour, oeware
of contracting love-debts of such a nLre tLat yo"

INTERCOURSE.

according to your individual character and siU,^
will not be able to repay them.

^ In claiming the services of others in our own
interest we should avoid doing so in matters for
which they do not possess capacity.

No one can limit the claims of the world on himself
by hmitmg his own claims on the world.

We chould always take it for granted that each
man possesses great weakness, but also a nobility of
character which feels the bonds of his weakness.

*
The condition of every friendship, and indeed of
every sort of good understanding, with the men
amon,: whom we live, is that we should make a two-
fold assumption-the honesty of good Intentions and
the weakness of human nature.

*
In our moral judgment of men, their weakness-
whether of the intellect or of the will-must be taken
into account 2.^ 2. positive element.

*
True confidence always rests on a free act, not on
a logical necessity.

Honour men by showing that you have confidence
that they believe in the good (for he who believes

ill

I-'.

\ . ■

284

sr//./. iiovRs.

fe'

The suspicious person is most frequently deeeived

How does it happen that the worst hearts always
-e the most evil i„ their neighbours, and the bes
and purest always the most good? Which of tt

In the eyes of the good, the evil man appears
™«ch less evi, than the good man himself in t^^*;::

We deceive ourselves in men much more frequently
through suspicion than through confidence. ^

SOCIABILITY.

There may be some individuals who are capable

onlv bed" rr' ■■"'"™"'^= *^" '"at which' can
only be described as the mere dialogue. This is the

assumed as m the possession of every one.

*
Those individuals to whom social intercourse is

red'':;ieT;L''trr:sr:f ■■" ^"■■^'^' ^-' '-•=

tunlty and^occasion-r;;^ l^^^ li^Z

jud^

sociABiLrrv

^— ^— — — __ ***

personal qualities, not as the neeH nf ~' T

of others fvhchm^tr '"' '■"''''"'^"='' ™""'<=
Not th dos e fo r ""'.'° '"='=''°"' °f '"e latter.

exc<te.e:r:[;::r;r::;L:,t"t"

applause and dissent. ""=""' '"•'=

-tix::jn:^' :;;^^™?- the e„,v

need of havinTnir ^ " ''"'"''' *"='■ """ ^e

Without X'c,-.';T:,rf-^'* '■".^ "^ ^'""'f-

Our public amusemen"sCl^ " ^'^'^ ="'"°™'"-
this standard. whiTh " o7 spedaf-r ^""""^ '°
i"c<..ent Of the normal chaS '^ZZ^ '" °"'

■•-aite^frrpLr"'-^'''^''-'
.■^eas^:me::aw::;r°'^^^^^

stu;-d™''a:;''^''''°^='""«-^-Meco„„tasa

1 1

286

STILT. HOURS.

■i

LOVE.

Not only in intercourse with God docs man
become "free and liberated from himself," but also
in intercourse with his fellow-men ; although, un-
doubtedly, looking at the matter in itself, full devotion
to man can have a clear meaning only when entire
self-devotion to God is considered as a moral duty.

Love is a virtue ; it can never be a duty. It can-
not, therefore, be commanded. (But cf. Matt. xxii.
35-40.*) Perfect love, as being perfect love, would
render all mere duty superfluous. But to love is our
duty.

We can understand clearly how a real existence of
persons in one another may be achieved through
love, when we see the heartrending grief which
parting causes those who love. This, too, may be
felt and shown merely on one side.

In our younger years we fancy that life means
living for ourselves ; but, as years go on, we learn
from experience that it is not possible to live for
ourselves ; and we learn, too, that there is something
better and more blessed than this, and that life means

living for others.

If only we could all remember that, even with the
poorest gifts and mental development, we may be of

• C/:"Reinherd,"ii. § 104.

LOVE.

287

"tniy cultured, through our love ! He „„i„ ;„ . ,
poor who ha, no love to bestow. ^ "''"*'

*
Feelings are onginally egotistic; well then for

. '■", '" "^ P°"" to help, it really does help L ov^
■s holy, because the good alone is its obrec. bl

;:rxt.;r"' '^^' '^'-^ -- - - "

*
deceive. "° ""''"'""^ '" ^ <'«-'^«''. ^ut only to

Before doing anything for our own Dle;.<,„r.
-St carefully consider the .atterTeS;' Z

I'n

''Ii'

I I

^-J

a88

SriLI. HOURS.

must ask whether we will thus be a hindrance to
others in the iwrk they have to do in the world.

*
It can be no joy to any one when he sees the last
glimmer of sunlight die out on the face of his neigh-
bour.

Who can find words to express the heartrending
pain which is suffered by those who have to give up
all moral hope of another ?

We shall not envy our neighbour any advantage, if
we feel how much more becoming it is in him than
it would have been in ourselves.

That is a strange conception of seeking after God
and His kingdom that regards it as implying the
renunciation of our attachment to beloved persons.
{Cf. Beck : « Gedanken aus und nach der Schrift," p.
92.) Just as if God's kingdom did not actually con-
sist in the definite relationship of persons to one
another !

All individual culture must, as being appropriation,
be at the same time a surrendering of ourselves to
others,-a denying of self, a learning to love. Other-
wise it is abnormal.

Mutual cares are an element of human happiness,
bvrause they are an element of love.

We who Jias

. ^_' 2S0

10 has something excellent f^^ ~

•"V not be injured ' f", ""' ''■•""'• "■^' ''

yours? " '" ""=^°"l """ J-ou know is

•>■««- !;<;:: SS;s ;; ~ -t ".o„„.

^/^A' //AT? /raj/./^'.

shall be'as"a\vl:;™"!""f^. ''-^t 'he «o„„„
■nan, and ,.^, „,;.^; ^ ■" ""= "''•"• '•" ■« a

Every unnatural gratificatio,, „r
immoral, because it is , 'T '"'•'"'"' '"^^''''^ '-^

of love. ""' '•■^■'™"«"y a gratification

«ir-aetivity, fu rbitt^h "f ""---ness and
By means of ^uc^ nerr - '"":"' "'""'">'' "mcWe.

-"tute oneitrtr'atrrr' "--

■""-.duals, ,„e„ , persr„arXive"rdir^ ""

I, It.

H'jdual.

. S.;

290

.y/yzz //oc//fs.

But this is not that u,uo personalis of which Church
v-nristology treats.

The relation between Christ and His people is
represented as a marriage, because, like marriage it
rests on a mutual appropriation of individual persons.
(See my « Theolog. Ethik," § 292.)

*
The authority of the man over the woman is

fT^w^ 'u '''" "''' ^^ ^'"^^^ ^ Public call-

.ves for the community. This is why she finds her
sat sfacfon and pride in living for the man, just as
he lives for his profession.

The woman possesses more feding than the man,
but less miagmation. In this way she is less eapabl^
of art,sfc produ=tion._immediate production being
of course excepted. She finds it more easy to
represent the strength of her feeling than its actual
nature as definite pleasure or displeasure.

th/"hTT. \ "° ''°"'" ^'"''"''""y hWens that
he husband finds in his wife and appropriates to
h-mself that par. of his man's nature in which he
was formerly deficient, and vice versA.

forta^:! '""' '" """" '° ''^^^ ^-" -«

P 291

co^:" '"= -"-"V-bond be hroU.nl„\u,-^;^
^^^ niy be an .nd.vdual of the opposite

them, can fulfil onlv in . ^ vocation for

this case, celib c7 fs llTT' '''''' ^^-' '"
xix. 12.) ^ J"'*'^"^ ^"d enjoined. (Matt.

The soul-beautv of th^ f
•vhich we cannofsl; ; : "-^^ '^ f ^ « "■". of
obverse or tlie reverse """^ '''=^""''""'. *'>«

*n the eyes of t-hf> r i
■■^ the most unpardolaifr^f Vict' """"' """^'^^

What a sad lot is that r^r ^u
^oul never finds its share o/l 7""'" """^^ """^
an unattractive body ! ''■ ''^'^"''^^ '' ""ells in

Right of inheritance rests on .^
nexion between parent/ ^ , ' "^'"''^^ ^°"-
^Peaking, on the natu ' , ^^^'^^-"-generally

relationships. "''^ '"""^^'°» ^^ all blood-

I Hi

iti

!■'!

ON CHURCH HISTORY.

[: ' 3 i

I I

' I '

V I

1 ' II

IX. ON CHURCH HISTORY.

THE APOSTOLIC AGE

to the idea of Ch fat ah 1 ^ '"'^ ~^-sponds

funy and peJ.J 'o J^fd Tu' T"''""'
earliest stac-es of thph!.r?? ' "'''=' °f 'he

weca„„o:3:2t:rr:L't:xrt"e'"^

scousness of Christ rose above that „f ' ,°""
most enlightened apostles. """ "''

posftion among t'ti:'!::;?:-"/™'"'"™' =*

background ink .r„rjt:is:":L:"'^'-"'°'''«

to that over-rating of t^L^^ lylZT ft"^'
Chnst was so earl, placed^in a^Iistte^^ittf '"

Zz::i::.j!!^' -"- - - ho. m

history

every work which is suitable for

|-fllfl!f<

h.||

sps

Its own time

2(X)

STILL HOURS.

( rom the apostles' doctrines and onwards) becomes
almost unavoidably a barrier and fetter to The
-spiritual freedom, in the purest sense of the word, of
succeedmg generations. Yet even this is an holy
appomtment of God. ^

Wc shall never be able to reconcile ourselves to
he doctrmes of the apostles, so long as we, clinging

t.™ that they were already in possession of clear,
and to them satisfactory, knowledge as regarded the
points concerned, and did not rather strive, with
much to,l and painful mental exertion, after the
attainment of such knowledge.

■57: JOHX.
St. John was the first who clearly grasped the idea
of Christianity as the essentially moral religion Cf.
I John iii. 4 and the entire polemics of this Epistle
especially chap. iv. 11-21 (in which note ... 12 16
20, 21 . The same is true of the Christology in his'
Gospel. From his historical position in his later years,
this mode of consideration was naturally occasioned.

ST. PAUL.

It was an important turning-point in the history
of Christian doctrine, when it came into the hands of
an exponent like Paul, who had not been an imme-
diate disciple of Christ, and had probably never even
been personally acquainted with Him.

^T. PAUL.

reflex;on,-the first inX^ u '"''J"'^' "' =P'=<^'«I

be transited mo a Christ- "T"^ ""' "^ =''-""
'onged and pa ful task T,''' ""' "" "^^ =• P™"
St Paul was'ncolll'w '""P'"''"" °' "^ich

But this Christian™^ r,r' '■""'"'^"' ^-'^'"•
"°^ out of somethT„rea 1 ?" °"' "^ """""e'
°ut of a real Ch k? 1 ' '"' "' ■''"'^''^■". but

Whose -rall^r- „^t"'SJ"1t'"'

new horizon Lh! '^ °P'"'^ "? ^" entirely

^tandingan » i e rne "'' ^"^,P'^-""='' '° "^ ""der"

--fe.dat:::re::ip/:-:--of

ti'^o":ztl!idV'™'''^^^«^--°""p-c''"-^-

fact (fhe latter b^^earofTh"'™^'* '"' "" ■•"~™^''
tion of his oJperso„),H ''"'■''■'" °''="™-
relation to previous n' °" '^' °"'''' '" "^

speaking, to a 1 oreL 'T- '•^^^'^^'^-generally

naturaU the Ise ofo "' T"''' ^"'^ ™= -^^
not. like that 0^1° ^ J ^r:;',^ "^ Christ „as

contemplation of Christ as a hi f , "" ''"■'"
"- was .rounded upon' '^::T:^^r^

. ii I :i ; ji

398

STILL HOURS.

Him and was therefore just as directly faith in
Christianity as faith in Christ.

St Paul was the first who, while preaching Christ

preached at the same time a Christian theology'

This naturally excited surprise and hesitation in the

minds of those believers in Christ, especially among

the apostles themselves, who knew only a purely

nistorical gospel, and who had learned, from direct

intercourse with Christ, how foreign all dogmatizing

was to Him. "

Whenever we seek to make a special doctrine of
Chr,st,am y, .nstead of contemplating the world, as
far as ,t hes within our own range of vision, with
mmds enhghtened by it, the danger arises of turning
. mto a school, and thus degrading it to the merely
statutory. M the appeara.ee of Paul the elder
apostles must have felt this, though it may have
been very dimly. '

It is not difficult to understand why the other
apostles hesitated when Paul began to set Chris-
tiamty free from the Israelitish theocracy. That
work of liberation, historical necessity as it was
meant nothing less than a setting free of Christian
p.ety from every political form of organization (for it
could not, of course, attach itself to heathenism) and
Placmg .t on a basis of its own ;-i„ one word, it was
makmg Christian life purely religious, i.e. purely

. -S-T: fAUL.

■ 299

eccksiastical. The apostles ..^^^^^::r^:^o^^

bac.,.ou„d, and the M a^o^ TeL t ^'htr ' 't

development of the k,-„gdon, of ChS TaTboS

o dawn upon his ™ind. (C/ especially Eph ^ T

.4._a.so Schwegler: "Naehapost zl^/^'l

cu.?yrr? "'"' "" ^"'^ Christians had such diffi.
cuicy in resolvinof to sevpr fhom^ 1 r

was that the. L/^VtZtl^^^:-
doing so. they couid o'thu sep^ a^ ihe "f °'"

*
We cannot lay sufficient stress upon the advantn^.

|i ;

JOO

STILL HOUJ^S.

Which the elder apostles possessed over Paul, in their
having been personally acquainted with Christ. To
1 aul Chnst was mainly a conception^the Redeemer
To the other apostles, He was always first and chiefly
a concrete person, a distinct historical character. It
was th.s whkh preserved them, even in spite of their
Judaism, from occupying a sectarian position.

*
Paulinism in the true sense, seems to have attached
Itself almost exclusively to the person of Paul. Not
until the period ,of the Reformation did it exercise its
proper influence.

It is a precious, and for the theologian a most
■mportant thin, if ,,e has not received his faith and
h.s theology ether from man or through man ; if he

n the7h '•"';"''' ""•""'^-' °""Pie3 a similar position
m the Chnsfan world to that of St. Paul in his own

In the present day we would need above all thin-s
a new St. Paul, a new apostle of the Gentiles, who
would convince unconscious Christians of their Chris-
tianity, and would, at the same time, show our
Jewish Christians how unchristian is their le^al ie
conventional Christianity. s » • •

JUDAISM. -HE A THENISM.

301

JUDAISM.

DielTn n ''"!' "■' ''"' "'''" P™"''^ °f "'^ <•-' "■«
P.ety m tl.e ecclesmstical form must degenerate.

The theocracy of the Old Testament rests mainly

°n itif m "T : "" '"""-'"•^'^ "° '-^ -Wch is
If the r 7 , ° "'-^">'-J"'--d constitution
of the socal relations of humanity; and tl, ' all

appontad by human judgment or Divine. It can
thus k„o„ „ „,i„g „f ^ ,,^,,_^^^.^^ ^^^^^^^^ ,,_^ _

and merely "ceremonial" laws.

.^ '^^f Testament times men knew that God was

that ittr^- :"■ ,'• '* ""' '"'^ <'"' -' y"^' '^•"o-
that .t^belongs to the very conception of man himself

The great spiritual conception attained unto by
un o by the Greeks, that man is so also. Both lines
and both are an essential preparation for Christianity.

HEATHENISM.

JJ'Z"'\ °' f'^''°"'- """^ f°™^ °' heathenism
rehg,on ''""' ' "" "'"'"''^ " ""^ ''""'"'"

The incapacity of heathen (unrevealcd) religions

,>i^

i 9

, J ' 1 1' IJ

I .1

302

STILL HOURS.

for attaining unto the knowledge of God is felt not
so niuch in regard to the physical as to the moral
attributes in the idea of God.

The Chinese commonwealth forms a direct contrast
to a theocracy.

MOHAMMEDANISM.

^ Mohammedanism was the first great historical
interference on the part of Divine providence to pre-
vent the absorption of Christianity into a Church.

*
Judaism and Mohammedanism have been placed
in Christian world-history as a witness against Chris-
tianity, which, in its degeneration into a mere Church,
had lost sight of its true position.

*
Because Christianity in the ecclesiastical form must
degenerate, therefore, so long as it continues to retain
the ecclesiastical form. Christ Himself permits other
religions to exist alongside of it.

CATHOLICISM.

The undogmatic pious Christian may calmly put
up with many dogmatic crudenesses and oddities but
never with a travesty of Christianity like Catholicism.

The maintenance of orthodoxy in the theology of
the Roman Catholic Church is self-occasioned. The
narrow minds among Roman Catholic theologians

CATHOLICISM.

303

^^'^bouAfide Orthodox: the more highly gifted who
are unavoidably led back to fundale'ntd h't lo-
heart and sp.r.t fo„,« ^,fe, b^^ ,,^ „„ ^ ^ '"

doTv In'^''^ """'"/"'"' "■^" ">^y ---"'ate ortho-'
do^y In ,h,3 way theology never comes to a breach
with the statutes of the Church.

In the eyes of the aristocratic classes Catholicism
must recommend itself as a most useful religion

fItZ T°''""" ■' ^ P"= -^ '^'"'-'-. quite

£ ste^f ■ °"'^^' :'"■ Protestantism, Christianity
shapes , self m a much more tolerant way than from
■tspm.c,ple,we might have been led to exTct T
read, ly overlooks many things in its relationTmor
Chr,st,a„,ty, and this without inconsistency brTn
stnct accordance with its own adopted maxims

*
Catholicism is indeed a thoroughly mistaken re
^ and yet it has handed on'the true idea :?

the"rh' T'' u"°'^" ''"''■^ ^'" ">« constitution of
the Church than the law of the organization of

' 1

, I

■Ill

STILL HOURS.

human ^oci '.'ty in and for itself.-if we seek for it
•some positive foundation,— we can find it nowhere
else than in the Roman Cathoh'c Churcii.

To persist in maintaining those Christian (eccle-
siastical) traditions whicii were the natural outcome
of their own time, but which can now exist only by
artificial support,— this is essentially Catholicism.

CATHOLICISM AND PROTESTANTISM.

As long as we, like the Roman Catholics, lay the
chief stress in our Christianity on the Church, so long
they will very wisely hesitate to change their Church
for ours. We shall never bring them over to our
Evangelical Church, although we may bring them
over to our Evangelical Christianity ; but this can
be done only in proportion as this Christianity is
more and more set free from that statutory character
which has dated from its organization as a Church
The Evangelical Church will never conquer the
Catholic Church, but Evangelical Christianity will
conquer Catholic Christianity in the Catholic Church
and in spite of it ; and, indeed, it has already done
so in no insignificant degree.

*
What justice demands of us Protestants as regards
the Roman ':atholics is the frank acknowledgment
tiiat Protc<'t.. .u- a^ a Church (not Protestant
Christianity a.i a Wuoie) is only a work of human
weakness.

3°S

The more fanat.eal the behaviour of the Uitr,„
tancs in tiie Cathohc Church i, ,t Ultramon-
ou.^ht we Evangelicals to L ' "'°''= '^"""^

fairnes. i„ our judgm „t of c" 'T'""°" "" "'"""'
maintain Chris ian Tom/ .^"''°"^'^'". '" oi-d" to

of Cathoh-c C:ri:Lnr„ho"'a°: ^ '"" 'T '°''
in their opposition to us ^' ^'^' f""*"=^'

There is no doubt that a p-^* ^
distinguishing charaete s ic eonsLTs rit"'"'"-^'' ''"
i"S the Protestantism of the Reforma """"""■

'" the present position o ma t 3 ^ '"'°'' '"•
Pectsas opposed to Catholics™ 'Z^ '°" f""
-chaProtestantismthatthis^nbel '^°"'^°^

whenthis't;;r(:3i;t:i"^^^^^

days), it must be the greatest trkl to' ^k ""''''■

for it for,„s no part of^.i o ecUo Jf „' ""''°"''' ■
tor the Evangeh-cal Church. P^Paffanda

tori::t:;zir: 7^"°""' "^^ "- ^■•^-

-ainedi„thel::c1thoh:tht:*^^'-

ir we find it difficult to understanri h
time of the Reformof ""'^''''^^"^ ^^w, at the
Reformation., even honest Cathohc

! f I

"ik

i I

306

STILL HOURS.

Churchmen could utterly reject the reforming move-
ment, we may find an explanation in the obstinacy
with which, in the present day, our honest Evangelical
Churchmen tenaciously maintain the ecclesiastical
character of evangelical Christianity.

CATHOLICISM AND THE STATE.

The relation of States to the Catholic hierarchy
will not be properly regulated until the national
will has become their determining power, i.e. not
until they are democratically constituted.

The most thorough-going curialistic policy is the
natural policy of consistent pessimism, of uncon-
ditional disbelief in the power of the good, even
within the range of Christian humanity. From this
point of view Church and State are alike under police

regulations.

The State, while granting its Roman Catholic sub-
jects freedom of religion, can do so only within
certain limits, as otherwise it would abolish its own

conception as the State.

If the Roman Catholic of the present day does not
place those Christian interests to which the Christian
State devotes itself higher than the presumably Chris-
tian interests of his own Church, then he cannot be
a good citizen. If the Catholic Church, in whose
nature it lies to accommodate itself to existing cir-

THE REFORMATION.

307

cumstances, is wise, it^^^ilTaW^^uglT^^
opposition to its essential principle, act in this direc
tion upon its members.

If the Catholic Church, after having passed through
most strikmg and continuous transformations during
he first five hundred years of its existence, cannot
alter Its form any further in the course of all-chang-
ing history, then it must endure the natural and
necessary consequences,

THE REFORMATION.

Must not the Lord Jesus Christ, who carried out
the Reformation, have had farther-reaching, more
comprehensive ideas than Luther and Zwingli, who
were His instruments in carrying it out ?

*
The Reformers wished to return to the original
form of Christianity, therefore to what had already
existed in the past ; the historical reforming move-
ment on the contrary, seeks to introduce an entirely
new form of Christianity.

ik
The Reformation was so entirely the personal deed
of Germany, that its people shed their blood in its
cause during many years.

*
The Reformers, while placing the subjective side
of religious belief in the light of corrective criticism
never thought of doing the same with its object-

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the traditional image of Christ. They confined them-
selves to bringing that object more prominently to
the front.

PROTESTANTISM,

The conception of Protestantism and of Protestant
Christianity, as distinguished from that of the Pro-
testant Church, is that it is the essentially moral
(morally determined and realized) form of Christian
piety.

Very many people who stand in very loose rela-
tions to the Protestant Church have yet a firm hold
on Protestantism.

The Evangelical doctrine of the universal priest-
hood of Christians undoubtedly has for its con-
sequence {e.g. when it is applied to the interpretation
of Scripture) the abolition of ecclesiastical authority ;
but it follows from this only that Evangelical Chris-
tianity, according to its principle, knows nothing of
ecclesiastical form.

The Evangelical principle of " the universal priest-
hood " is that it is not a necessary condition of
communion with Christ in the case of every indivi-
dual in Christendom that he shall possess some
special, i.e. ecclesiastical, mediation, which is not
already included in his relation to the moral and re-
ligious community. Its idea is that there is salvation

Pl^OTESTANriS.-\r

' .^ 309

ne ChurdMvI„ch proceeded from it at the time of

tjZ^TT °\ '": ''^"^^" ""-' -'■•"- il
development beyond t lat nonnr? d ^ .
mii«i- fk f period. Protestant sm

r..rr..".-;.;;;, ::::rr«"' '- •-

Protestant Christianity is s.il, ;„ ft, eariiest child
US alphabet, and very ignorant.
It is unfair to blame imoerfect forn.e r t

-e^^o„acco„„toft,.efr::^L^™:;Lt"":::;

o them. These troubles are tlie very sir^n „r tl
v.U^ty and relative perfection, becauirtl!; I p^
Sress,ve .nfluences which proceed from themselves

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THE REFORMATION AND THE CHURCH.

The way in which the Reformation determined the
conception of the Church is perfectly natural, if we
proceed on the assumption that the Church exists
for no other purpose than to be the historical bearer
and transmitter of the message of Christ, this being
the essential condition of its efficacy in the world.
The idea that the Church is the community of those
who belong to Christ is thus tacitly relinquished ;
that room for a community so conceived must be
sought elsewhere is just as tacitly assumed, and this
in perfect accordance with the nature of the case.
Or rather let us say, that the need of a Christian
community upon earth was not at that time clearly
recognised. The question as to whether, according
to the nature of the case, any other than a really
Christian community could be the propagator of the
genuine and correctly understood evangelical mes-
sage, was never brought forward in those days.

*
The real essence of the Reformers' conception of
the Church is that it is the divinely appointed instru-
ment or institution by means of which Christ
exercises His redeeming influence upon individuals,
—an influence whose outward means are the word
and the sacraments. (See "Confession of Augsburg,"
V.) This understanding of the idea of the Church
was truly in accordance with the times. As, accord-
ing to their views, the redeeming influence of Christ

THE REFORMATION AND THE CHURCH.

311

upon the individual seeks only to secure for him
a share in heavenly blessedness, and not also to
qualify him for a community of the redeemed on
earth, it is a perfectly natural consequence of their
conception of the Church that Lutheranism, in its
doctrine of the Church, should lay the chief stress
on purity of doctrine. For all those to whom the
need of the Church is chiefly the need of a religious
society, the Evangelical Church, especially the
Lutheran, must be, to a certain extent, unsatisfactory.

In order to understand the Reformers' idea of the
Church, we must not forget, as Schenkel constantly
does that to their minds the two Churches, the in-
vi-sible and the visible, are Churches in an entirely
different sense. They are not related to each other
as the "ideal" and the "real" Church, but the
former is a community, the latter an institution. The
invisible Church does not seek to realize and repre-
sent itself in the visible, nor has it even the remotest
tendency in this direction, for only in heaven can it
be represented and realized ; but the visible Church
IS the necessary training-school in which those
members of Christ which it requires to its perfection
are produced and educated. The invisible Church
has no tendency towards the visible, but the reverse
Briefly stated, the visible Church is not a Church
at all in the primary sense of the word, but a school
of Christianity.-while the invisible Church is the
ecdesta tnumphans, its roots only being grounded in

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this present existence. From this point of vi^w a
Christian community on earth does not seem to
belong to the appointment of God, neither is it to
be striven after. Confusion of thought arises only
because the earher conception of the Church, that of
the congregatio sanctorum, was often unconsciously
recurring to the minds of the Reformers even as
regarded the visible Church.

*
That which Schenkel calls the "ideal universal
Church," and^ on which he lays such emphasis, was
to the Reformers almost an unknown conception.

*
In proportion as the idea of the Church as the
community of saints gave place in Luther's mind,
during his later years, to that of the institution for
the transmission of the means of grace, the appoint-
ment of the clergyman by the congregation, and the
share of the congregation in Church government
generally, must have fallen into the background of
his ideas.

The first stage in the historical position of the
Evangelical Church which proceeded from the Refor-
mation was, that wherever it established itself as a
great whole, it became the Church of the State. The
second, and naturally resultant, stage is that the State
sets itself free from the Church, which then becomes
a private affair. Whenever the State is divided in
matters of religion, it cannot long endure a con-

nexion vvith the Church. whTch becom^sT^ur,; ,^
continual comph-cations and annoyance.

*
If the Reformation of the i6th century had been
un,versally accepted, the ecclesiastical form o Ch ,V
.an.ty wonid have been perpetuated, and a schil
of the Christian Church, which was the great event
of that epoch, would have been avoided.

m^ LUmE^ANAND THE REFORMED CHURCHES

and ngdiy deiined, and therefore a more plastic and
many-s,ded individuality, than the Lutheran ; the

to hTt J.'^T "^ "-""""" '^""-h, whicl has
to be traced back to one individual founder, and he
a man of an overwhelming personality, has appro-
pnated the individuality of its founder to itself.

In the Swiss Reformation there was from the first
along w,th the real reforming interest, which sought'
to res ore Christian piety in its originai purity, an
admmure of the scientific or theological intLt,

on which theological systems depended. I„ the
Lutheran Reformation this was not the case. Even
this fact contributed to the formation of the diver--
ing characteristics of the two Evangelical Churches."

The idea of Protestantism itself, as distinguished
from the ,dea of the Protestant Church, occupies a

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perfectly indifferent position as regards the various
characteristics of the Lutheran and the Reformed
Churches.

Very truly does Schenkel maintain that " an eccle-
siastical separation of the two Evangelical Churches
was not the necessary result of the confessions of
either, but was possible only in a period which took
the scientific expositions of the Protestant principle
for the principle itself, and which limited Protestant-
ism to a narrow circle of elaborately formulated doc-
trines, just as if its aim had been to introduce a new
and very human theological school, and not rather
a new life of communion between God and man,
a Church of regenerate humanity." ("Das Princip
des Protestantismus," p. 65, etc.) But he ought not
to overlook the fact that Protestantism could clearly
never have founded a Church at all if it had not itself
been implicated in this confounding of theological
doctrine with Christianity. Only on the assumption
that Christianity is originally and essentially dogma
do we arrive at the idea of a Church.

*
That part of the progress of the Reformation
which belongs to secular history, which lies beyond
the religious side as such, was comprised more
directly in the Reformed Church than in the
Lutheran ; while the historically effective appearance
and founding of the Reformation, the Reforming
movement, belongs mainly to the Lutheran Church.

rm LUTHERAN AND REFORMED CHURCHES. 3,5

The fundamental convictions of the Reformers proT
ceeded, ,n the case of Luther, from a purely personal
need ; ,„ that of Zwingli. from a feeling of the need
of the Church. But only through the incomparably
deeper subjective value which the Reforming impulse
hus recezv^d from Luther could he strike in upon
history hke a flash of lightning, which kindled his
contemporaries, and which no power on earth could
avail to extinguish.

The Lutheran Reformation, with all its weak-
nesses, has this great strength, that it was peculiarly
a German Reformation. Luther was a true and

t2t. T: "'^ ^''^ ^^^^- ^^^ German
Protestant world has always felt an instinctive draw-

ing towards Lutheranism ; and in spite of the

evident advantages possessed by reformed Protes-

tantism, it has yet remained foreign to the people

of Germany, its western extremities alone excepted.

Luther proceeds invariably from a purely religious
poin of view, and directs his influence toward the
purely religious side of Christianity. It is otherwise
with Zwingli and Calvin.

♦

The Swiss Reformation is the natural historical
result of tiie previous development of Christianity •
the Lutheran is a new revelation of Christ in the
midst of the natural course of Christian history

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STILL HOURS.

It was very providential that the humanist Me-
lanchthon was placed by the side of Luther. Luther
had a deep and hearty respect for this great repre-
sentative of humanistic Christianity, although he
himself belonged mainly to its religious and mystical
side.

That which, from a moral point of view, is the idea
ot the universal moral purpose, the universal (objec-
tive) highest good, is, from a religious standpoint
the Idea of the glory of God. This may be illus-'
trated by referring to the first petition of the Lord's
Prayer, and considering the relation of the second
petition to the first. The fact that Lutheranism doe.
not emphasize this idea, while reformed Protestant-
ism accentuates it most strongly, affords a fresh
proof of how the latter has at heart the objective
interest of Christianity, the former only the subjec-
tive interest of the salvation of the individual.

If we seek an explanation for the fact that the
Lutheran and the Reformed Churches have remained
permanently separate, we must take this into ac-
count, that the existence of both Churches belongs
to the essentially non-ecclesiastical stage of the hiV
torical development of Christianity, in which the real
movement of Christian life has no ecclesiastical
tendency, and does not therefore seek for itself a
Christian community of the nature of a Church.

. umoN. j,^

ccrtTnlr ""' ' ''™'''"'' "■''='' Z-insi^^^^d'c^n
cetamly were not. I„ saying this, however, „c
detraet noth.ng from the dignity and importance of

histrVd r:, '"? '"™- '" ^"*"' Christian
h.story decdedly talces its course once again as

Lhurch h.story m a new epoch. The Swiss Reforma-
t.o„ was soon drawn in the same direction, most
decidedly through the work of Calvin.

*
An error which we not unfrequently meet with, is
that when a person is filled with admiration for some
great man. such as Luther, who discovered one great
and sp endid truth, he is apt to become so dazzled
by It, that he considers that one as the whole and
perfect truth.

UNION.

My interest is ultimately concerned with the con-
cord and unity of Christians, not with the union of
Churches ; or, at furthest, with the latter only in so
far as .t can be made a means to the former. It
may however, become, on the contrary, a hindrance
to the former and as matters now stand, only too
easily. I could, therefore, have wished that we had
never suggested the idea of a union of the two
Lvangehcal Churches, which now live peaceably along-
side of each other. ^ ^

The severance of the Reformation into two hostile
Churches was undeniably a grave sin against the

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STILL HOURS.

principle of the Reformation ; but it was an equally
serio!!s offence against this principle, arising from a
misunderstanding of its real nature, that led men,
after this error had been recognised in both Evan-
gelical Churches, to seek to expiate it by blending
the two Churches into one, instead of concluding a
perpetual peace between them, without any inter-
ference with their separate condition.

riETISM.

Pietism is purely religious Christianity, such as
Protestantism brings along with it, considered as set
free from the ecclesiastical form, but at the same
time necessarily bound down to much more indivi-
dual forms.

Not inappropriately does Feuerlein ^ call Pietism,—
" The evil conscience of the Lutheran world."

*
Those Christian agencies of love in which Pietism
excels other evangelical schools are precisely the
same as those in which Catholicism is superior to
Protestantism as a whole. This is a characteristic
fact.

What Socialism is nowadays in the world, home
missions are in the Church. The two movements

' "Die Sittenlehre des Christenthums in ihren geschichtlichen
Hauptformen," p. 149.

!■ *ll

PIETISM.

— — — 319

nistorical impulse.

You Pfetfsts have set before yourselves no work of
world-wide importance to accomplish for Christ-
Does It not startle you to hear it ?

I.,^°rM'"'' ""°"^ ""''■■ P^"?'^ '"''h y™-- Lord
JeusChnst ,„ your hand, looking as awkward and
confused as ,f you had no idea what work you could
do m the world of to-day.

for^Tr- r "'"J° ^°"^'''" ""= conventional
forms of P,et,sm as the essential characteristics of
Chr,st,an,ty .tself, our confidence in its exclusive or
even pre-eminent, Christianity begins to totter. '

fort" 'r!r*'''°" ""^'' '''' '"^''^'^"^ ^^P^^t t^kes the
o m of the conventicle. It is an association for
rel gious edification, for peculiarly individual religious
culture. ^ Such an association is as real a necessity in
the religious sphere as a moral community is in that
of the moral. Its perfection naturally consists in
the perfect congruence and consistency of these
two societies, the moral and the religious. The dis-
tinction between clergy and laity disappears in the
rehgious society, just in proportion as that of
authorities and subjects does in the moral. When
we have understood the conventicle in this way as
religious, perhaps not just absolutely Christian, social

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ST/LL HOUKS.

intercourse, we cannot fall into the error of ranking
it above the regular ordinance of public worship.

MYSTICISM AND THEOSOPHY.
Mysticism and theosophy are both of an essentially
religious nature, but it is characteristic as regards
their distinction and their relation to each other,
that to the former, only the subjective self, to the
latter, the whole objective world, is an object of
knowledge in God, proceeding from the idea of God.

Gnosticism is a form of theosophy.

It is perfectly natural that current theosophy
should derive all things ultimately from the idea of
God ; but one of its fundamental errors is that it
fails to discover the relation of man to God through
the relations of man to himself and to the world
outside him, i.e. through his moral constitution, but,
on the contrary, seeks to ascertain the latter by the
former. It does not explain the religion self-deter-
mination of man by his moral self-determination,
but the reverse ; and this even on the threshold of
human development. {Cf. e.g. Hofmann : " Schrift-
beweis/' i., p. 357, 363.)

FANATICISM.

The opposite of moral religion is magic religion ;
the opposite of practical, evcry-day religion is a
fanciful, fantastic, empty, idle, abstract religion.

^NATIONALISM.

321

practical tendency or practical value.

*
Most people imagine tliat tliere can bo no reni
entl,usiasm and love without extravagance

Fantastic, unpractical, abstract piety must always
become magical, non-moral ; because, without a rea
object on which to direct itself, religious self-de r
nuna .on must always become empty'and wortW s .
Ihe ,dea of mer.t naturally attaches itself to this •
for to do anything which does not include in itself
any objective necessity for being done, is an opus
supererosatorium. . » dn opus

melL'r T "!"'""" ^■•^^P" °'"''S'on has a clear
meanmg only when understood in the sense of moral
comprehension. Otherwise it leads to mysticism aTd

NATIONALISM.

suc^?bad''T- '■ " ''f ""°'°S^' ""' ">■ •"> ™-ns
such a bad rel,g,o„. It is the popular comprehension

o rel,g,ous moral Christianity, and is actually much

tven at he t.me of the undisputed sovereignty of
heolog,cal orthodoxy in the Church, it was^aK^
great r"°"'" ''"'^ ""= ™' Christianity of tie
actually profligate. Pietism, which runs parallel

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with it, even from a historical point of view, can
never, from its very nature, be the Christianity of
large sections of the community.

The narrow-mindedness of rationalism becomes
specially evident in the fact that, although it re-
nounces dogma, it yet thoughtlessly retains the old
views of the relations of Christianity to the Church.

Pelagianism and its offshoots consist mainly in the
fact that the Divine act of redemption, even on its
subjective side, is not considered as creation.

Rationalism results from the need felt by a mind
at variance with the dogmas of the Church, to hold
fast by the ideas of Christianity.

It is indeed a fact of priceless importance that
man should hope to receive from God a mercy which
would make no alteration in His holiness. If, how-
ever, we must maintain, on the one hand, that God's
mercy is not bestowed upon the rationalist in the
way in which he trusts in the pardoning grace of
God, we must in fairness, on the other hand, acknow-
ledge that it is not bestowed upon the ordinary
dogmatic orthodox believer in the -way in which he
consideis that the pardoning grace of God finds its
motive through the satisfaction of Christ.

Reason is undoubtedly a noble and incomparable
thing, if only any one possessed it !

SUPERNA TCrHALISM.

323

So far as rationalism forms a contrast to super-
naturahsm. I am a decided anti-rationalist; so far
as it only means what its name directly implies I am
just as decidedly a rationalist. ^ '

alistnotf't^'T ' """ ' -Pernaturalistic ration-
aiist, not a rational supernaturalist.

SUPERNA TURALISM.

and he created cannot be consfdered as too close
and .nt,mate; but even in the sn,allest point h
connexion should never be other>vise regarded than
as a morally mediated one.

*
Our duty nowadays in theology is to establish the
authonty of the suternatural in Christianity, i„ the
stnctest sense of the word, but with the unconditional
exclusion of the magical.

The absolute person may very well refrain from
he use of h,s powers, but he cannot hinder himself
from possessmg these powers. To attain them first
.n a moral, an ethical sense, first to become something
a regards h,s virtues, is for the absolute being an
u ter p„33,bi,ity. He cannot lay aside his essential
qualities, even if we were to grant that he can put off

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at will his peculiar conditions of existence, neither
can he ever forget who and what he actually is.

While God constitutes the "laws of nature" in
matter, He cannot confine His own activity within
them ; He cannot will to make them a barrier to His
own activity. The only possible barrier to the
activity of God would be the self-contradictory, un-
reasonable, and therefore unholy.

The miracle is not a breaking through of the laws
of nature on the part of God, but an activity on the
part of God without the interposition of these laws of
nature. Nothing detrimental to these laws occurs in
the miracle. In it God either works absolutely, i.e.
entirely without means, or by employing such cosmic,
created means as do not belong to the material,
earthly world.

Not wonder, but admiration, is the true position o
our minds in presence of the works of God, especially
in His revelation of Himself in these. Ecclesiastical
piety, indeed, delights itself in paradoxes ; not so the

piety which is ripe and manly.

A created world, which was in itself so perfectly
organized that the entrance of the direct agency of
God could not be admitted without producing a dis-
turbance in it, would be a barrier for God, an 1
consequently, as a creature, most imperfect.

1 >

'"^UPERNATURALISM.

32s

The miracle appeals to ^.\^7^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
man s nature, that of direct presentation, exactly as
prophecy does to the purely intellectual. The sp cific

IS entirely wantinsr.

All tl,at does not belong to the process of the
elf development of the world is not uatura, and I
herefore supernatural_a miracle, which may hus be
unmistakably recognised by its evident want of ,
process of mediation, which because it exists in the
world a ways within the limits of space and time i
always distinct!/ observable.

but not of such a nature as to leave no room for the
m,racle, or to be disturbed in its process of life b^ te
direct entrance of the Divine causality. The or^ic
We of the world, especially that of material nftu
s as even our most everyday e..perie„ce teaches, ^.^
no means ur .tself perfect, but is in a thousand ways
mpeded and disturbed, and must struggle on through
.nnumerable diseases and dangers. And th s quU
natura ly and unavoidably, because the verv concep!
C.on of matter excludes the idea of its perfect
orga„,zab.hty. There are therefore opportunhle
enough for assisting from without the course o
organic hfe in material nature. But it follows of
course, that the direct entrance of the Divine caus-
ality into material nature will exercise no dislurbin<.

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influence on the course of its organic life, but will
rather remove hindrances and disturbances with the
aid of its healing and helping power. Very many
superstitious ideas are abroad as to the perfect
organic life of material nature.

*
The distinction between the contra and the supra
rationem is made by the supernaturalist with good
reason and very appropriately, because we actually
possess reason only in an imperfect and relative state,
and therefore' any revealed fact may very well be
supra rationem empiricam, i.e. relitivam, without being
supra rationem effectivam, i.e. absolutam (which is
indeed inconceivable).

To those who object to miracles we will simply
say: "Friends, we have no wish to force upon you
a belief in miracles. If you cannot reconcile your-
selves to them, set them aside, and see then how you
will manage without them, and where you will find
a pragmatic explanation of those actually existing
results to which we possess the key in accepting

miracles."

I believe in miracles -because, as regards certain
facts, I cannot do without them as historical explana-
tions—in order to bridge over the gulfs in history.

We ought to oppose most energetically that
thoughtless belief in miracles which supposes that the

SUPEKNA TURALISM.

327

acceptance of a miracle raises it beyond the reach of
accurate investigation into those facts in its concrete
particulars which profess themselves miraculous.

*
I have no objection that my belief in miracles, and
my supernaturalism in general, should be apologised
for as a childlike naivete.

As regards miracles, the supernaturalist is from
the first in a very different position from the anti-
supernaturalist, because to him a marvellous occur-
rence is in and for itself by no means improbable, but,
on the contrary, very probable.

To us modern people as a whole, the ancient
Christian notions of angels and devils, heaven, hell,
purgatory, etc, have all been lost; and in losing the
old ideas, most of us have lost the things they con-
cerned. This is not the case with myself.

What to our minds is incomprehensible is not
necessarily a miracle ; on the contrary, the miracle
is decidedly compiehensible, but directly compre-
hensible only as the immediate agency of the Divine
causality.

As it was perfectly natural in earlier ages to believe
in a supernatural efficacy of God in the world, so we
nowadays find the contrary more natural. But both
alike rest upon a preconception.

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STILL HOURS.

According to the opponents of miracles, God dare
not move. He is imprisoned in the laws of nature.
But who then has imprisoned Him there ? Surely
not Himself.

SCHLEIERMA CHER.

One point in which Schleiermacher seems to me
especially great is, that we find no trace of vanity in
his nature.

What I cannot understand in Schleiermacher is
his taste for " interesting " people.

are
ire.

ely

me
in

ON POLITICS.

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iii:»

X. ON POLITICS.

CHURCH AND STA TE.

t.on, a future " perfectly organized Christian State"

appears .uch less . Utopia than a Protestant "true

Church of regenerate humanity," which would be

under the headship of Christ alone.- For under

.s cvdently on the mcrease; but the Church (not to
be confounded with living Christianity) is just as
evidently on the decrease.

*
He who wishes to learn what and what kind of
«mmu„ ty the Redeemer really wished to found on
earth whether ,t was a Church or something different
should read John xiii. 34. 35- The order of thi's

Tult t^ b'' ,.''T ~"'P^*^"ded as a task which
ought to be reahzed. Our own time is beginning to
have some dawnmg idea of the truth. The peculiarly
Chnstian political problem places itself before us
^^■^Schenkel: "Das Princip des Pro.e..a«ismus.' p. 66, etc. ;

33t

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33i

UTILL HOURS.

here. Sooner or later it must find a solution, and its
Columbus, with his firm faith and confidence, will not
for ever be waited for in vain.

*
If, in the case of our evangelical laity, it should
ever come to a conflict between their duties as Chris-
tian citizens and their duties as Churchmen, on which
side would the decision be likely to fall .>

*
I could wish the State to occupy an entirely
neutral position 'towards Christian confessions, to
have nothing whatever to do with them ; not because
I would have it indifferent to Christianity, but be-
cause I wish it to cherish exclusively, and with all its
might, that Christianity which it is its duty to cul-
ivate, religious moral Christianity, which is the
divinely appointed heir of ecclesiastical Christianity
\\\ all its forms.

The State may indeed grant perfect independence
to the Church (whichever Church it may be), but only
on condition that it does not in so doing surrender to
it any of its own privileges.

That which we so often hear deplored as want of
religion in the State, is in reality only the want of a
Church ; and this does not in the very least imply an
absence of religion.

I do not for a moment doubt that the Lord Jesus

CHURCH AND STA 7£.

-caneTcLlTor^r r '"°" ''- - °-
dav R« ) '"vements and questions of the

tJay. He knows well which ha« fjJ •

issues behind it. "^ ""^'^ important

humanity. ' ^^"''^^'^ed as national

.J:i;;r;r;i::-z:*' ■■■' •'

-torat,o„ of i,s own p^per characte^v tade in

adaJ^wCel'Hf s! ;'*''°^^''"= «'^' -" --
y , vhenever the State ,s mentioned, most people

I i''

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334

STILL HOURS.

should, in a truly Philistine way, think merely of
the p^overnment and its administrative organs (ma-
chines) ? But unfortunately it is so.

If the State has become truly and consciously
Christian, then undoubtedly there is no further need
of a means for the transmission of Christian revela-
tion (or the gospel), which office the Church has,
from the earliest days, fulfilled ; and the Church can
then organize itself entirely according to its original
conception, i.e. ^as a purely religious Christian com-
munity. That we have not as yet progressed thus
far, no one will, however, be likely to dispute.

The Christian State has nothing to do for Christian
piety as such ; as long as the latter needs to be cared
for, there is still need of a Christian Church along
with the Christian State, and to it this duty belongs.

The consciousness that the merely legal state does
not correspond to the true idea of the State, which
recognises in it an essentially moral community, has
already been awakened amongst us. {Cf, Thilo, " Die
Theologisirende Rechts-und Staatslehre," pp. 330-332,
338, etc.)

Man flourishes only in a community. If therefore
the Christian cannot live for the ecclesiastical com-
munity, he must live for the political, if he is to
prosper.

CHURCH AND STATE.

335

In which province does Christianity show itself
most productive at the present day, in the ecclesi-
astical or in the secular ?

Those people whose ruling interest is the Church,
are nowadays in deed and truth, ie. apart from out-
ward appearance, not a whit more Christian than
those whose ruling interest is the State ; on the con-
trary, the reverse is more frequently the case.

*
The State cannot do religion a better service and a
higher honour than by "not troubling itself about
it," i.e. by acting on the conviction that nothing can
be more advantageous for religion than having the
proper regulation of the relations of the human
community determined exclusively by the standard
which its own idea supplies.

*
The atmosphere of the State is purer and more
salubrious nowadays, even from a Christian point
of view, than the atmosphere of the Church.

*
In Christianity only two tendencies are possible,
the ecclesiastical and the political. Therefore it
must be, either— or— . What lies between the two
is mere empty nothingness.

\ In

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336

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S7/LL HOURS.

PRINCE AND PEOPLE.

Even the community requires a conscience ; for, in
a thousand cases, conscience alone can give the final
decision as regards its questions. The prince is this
conscience of the State, and to him therefore must
belong the power of unconditional veto and the
personal irresponsibility which characterize the con-
science. But as the conscience in the individual can
never entangle itself in unseemly conflict with the
reason, without risking the loss of its own sove-
reignty, so the prince must avoid coming into conflict
with the reason of the nation.

If the prince were important only as being the
means for rendering it possible that the people should
come to be of one mind as to their affairs, and that
the national reason should, in all security, carry on
the government, would not this be a very high im-
portance indeed t Could you possibly assign him a
position that would bring higher dignity "i

No one is fit to govern, as distinguished from
dominating, who is disposed to be headstrong, who
is contented if he himself does right, and to whom it
is not an equally warm and pressing desire, not only
that right shall be done, but that it shall be the
personal deed of those whom he governs.

It must be ruinous to a State, when, instead of

nmCE AND PEOPLE.

unavcdable. a strffe is set on foot between the people
and the prince.

*
It cannot but be fatal to royalty to identify its
interests with those of the privileged classes.

The people cannot identify itself with the prince,
as the whole cannot identify itself with the part • but
he pnnce can identi'> himself with his people,' and
in this, moreovev highest glory consists.

*
It is much more natural and easy that the prince
should yield to the publicly expressed conviction of
the people, than that the reverse should take place.

*
_ The prince must govern for this reason, that he is
»n the position to understand most correctly the
national reason, and the nation's rational desire.

*
The reason why governing is such a difficult and
vexatious task is that the ruler cannot attain his
objects by commanding, but only by the proper
decision of the wills of the governed ; he must there-
fore entirely renounce the idea of proceeding accord-
ing to his own mind in the attainment of those
objective ends which are the common property of

The strongest regal power is possible only where

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338

S7/LL HOUHS.

11 A

the monarch's position rests on the personal choice

of the people, — therefore only in the monarchical

republic.

Where the prince really governs according to the
constitution, as in England, a refusal of taxes cannot
occur. All decisions of the constitutional govern-
ment naturally presuppose that not only the nation,
but also the sovereign, is constitutionally minded.

Nothing ig more dangerous for the throne than a
corrupt or cowardly representation of the people.

At no other period is hereditary sovereignty of
such incalculable value as at the time when nations
begin to rule themselves. At this period the mission
of royalty reaches its meridian height.

Princes must learn to understand their people, not
the reverse ; for moral development takes place in
the people, not in the prince.

The senseless talk about the " inseparability of the
welfare of the crown and the kingdom," has a correct
meaning only when we reverse the order of crown
and kingdom, i.e. when the crown identifies itself
with the country, not when it narrow-mindedly re-
quires that the country shall identify itself with it.
There is no middle course between the two.

PRINCE AND PEOPLE.

We mu t beware only of making them positivas i„
the <>p,n,o„ that their influence will thus be stre::^th:

rel^r^f "° '""^ **' 'f ""= P""- "-^ not
met tla 7'T-r:'' '"''^" ""^ "°' "^ ~"-

"ot be able L '"' " """ °' "■^^-^>' '- -"

not be able to govern according to the constitution.

nomatthl °' ^°"f ?"°"^' ■"™='-hy is certainly
not that the pr.nce shall govern according to his own

eTbletl^r "l"^"'"^' "■^™="'' «-;ri„ce s^

If a representative government is appointed if
therefore an organ is established express^ for the
purpose of allowing the public reason' of the „at on

ence to fr '' ~™"^' '' "'^ P""^« ''=''"=^^ obedi-
ence to the expression of this organ. He canno^

-ely consider himself as wiser than^ his peopi:Ta

seems't'^^ "' unwilling*to descend-as it foolishly
seems to themselves-to that position which, in the
present moral condition of the nations, alone ema „

C-bt"''"-'''^"'''^^'-^-''^^-™----

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340

STILL nOUKS.

A common misfortune in governing is that people
suppose themselves able to alter the nature of things

by their own cleverness.

A prince is in a good position nowadays only if
he joyfully renounces all idea of holding an excep-
tional position, because he possesses the clear con-
viction that thus alone he will exalt himself to a truly

lofty position,

A high-mipded prince will make it a point of
honour not to wish to be wiser than the intelligence
of his people. It will appear to him a shame an-'-
disgrace to rely in his government on the non-intelli-
gence of the population.

AUTHORITY.

To the conception of authority belong these two
things:— (i) That it shall proceed from the com-
munity, and (2) that, having proceeded from it, it
shall possess authority over individuals in the com-
munity. This is the very purpose for which the
community chooses for itself a head, that it may
yield obedience to it, and through it to its own idea.

In what proportion a community may be demo-
cratically organized must be determined entirely
according to the degree in which the whole com-
munity is animated by a common spirit.

AUTHORITY.

341

No one can govern who is not disposed to grant to
every one of his subjects perfect independence as
regards himself.

In order to govern along with a constitution, one
must 5rst of all govern according to it.

*
To govern according to ones individual caprice (a
very different thing from governing according to
one's individual conviction) really means, not to
govern, but to domineer.

To govern, as distinguished from domineering
means, to realize one', ends by independent instru-
ments.

If, in a representative government, more than one
chamber is really necessary, that the different cham-
bers may mutually examine each other's decisions
(as Trendelenburg, "Naturrecht," p. 3S4, etc 454
455, maintains), then the second chamber can pro-
perly be only a real senate, an assemblage of the
notoriously highest intellects of the nation.^ and its
position would only be that of a court of appeal.

*
He who understands by governing arranging,
matters according to his own mind may have a
vocation for everything else, but has certainly none
for ruling.

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342

STILL HOURS.

Autocratically-minded {i.e. in plain English, wilful)
people are useless nowadays in public life.

A man may find much that is praiseworthy, even
necessary, in public and political life, and yet not
feel himself called upon to take any direct share in
it.

We should never expect great things from autho-
rity, of whatsoever kind it may be. All authority is
merely provisional.

It is strange that so few can reconcile themselves
to the idea of a real government, i.e. a certain attain-
ment of reasonable objects by means of freely acting
factors. The higher the art of the government, the
more unlimited is the freedom. This is the case alike
with the divine government of the world and with
political science among men.

To rule the people according to the highest in-
tellectual and mor 1 convictions prevailing among
them is the only worthy maxim in government, and
soon it will be the only possible one. The nation
provides itself with a government for the purpose of
being ruled by itself, and being enabled to govern

itself.

If the government persistently ignores the liberal
tendencies in the nation, the result cannot fail to be

AUTHORITY. 3^3

that the people, unnaturally pressed downwards to
the lower strata, soil themselves with all kinds of
impurity. The government ought to rais.^ them out
of the dust and ennoble them !

A high-minded system of government cannot pros-
per when executed by mean-minded officials.

Personal confidence is nowadays what authority
was in the past.

The moral law, as distinguished nom the moral
norm, is always a positive, a concrete, formula.

The measure, and especially the duration, of
punishment ought to be determined according as it
will be most likely to attain its object, the actual
abolition of evil.

Even in the human community the conception of
punishment is that of expiation {i.e. making pardon-
able) of evil that has been committed. Only in this
case it is the human community, not God, for whom
the wrong must be expiated (made pardonable). But
does not this conception of punishment exclude the
punishment of death, in which the subject, whose sin
the community is to forgive, is annihilated >

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344

STILL HOURS.

RANKS OF THE COMMUNITY. '

From a moral point of view, we must certainly
desire, that those ranks which occupy at present the
very lowest position in the social scale, should
gradually cease to exist ; but from the same point
of view, we must necessarily form the same judg-
ment as to the very highest ranks in our present
society.

There is no more efficacious means of spiritually
(religiously and morally) elevating the "common
man " than a spiritually elevated community.

The more backward human society is in its history,
the more does it confine itself to establishing moral
order in the sphere of a few individuals, who are
then the privileged classes, at the expense of the
worthy development of larger masses.

Of one kind of human nature and life it is true,
more than of any other, that it was not created by
God, and that is court-life.

It is a sign alike of ignorance and narrow-minded-
ness, when the more highly-educated classes despise
the instinctive tendencies of the masses. He who
can look farther sees in them auguries, for the true
interpretation of which a haruspex might well be
required.

-iji

POLITICAL FREEDOM.

~" ■ -■■■ _ 345

on t.p-toe to look over the heads of others, but bends
dojn that he may hold communion with them. He
finds no gratification to vanity in his superior height,
but a pamful narrowness of room.

The moral Proletariat (in which the individual lives
«.thout self conscousness in the mass) is as great

source of the latter.

The tendencies of the masses can never, indeed,
be predommant forces in public life, but in one resnec
the masses, as being such parts of the whole, which
are relafvely mere material nature,-have In ad-
vantage over the educated classes, viz., that they are
dnven as by an instinct in the direction of future

mstmct must first pass the censorship of reason.

POLITICAL FREEDOM.

The increase of political freedom nmst unavoid-
ably result ,n a loss of personal freedom to the
.nd,v.dual. For this reason he who is jealous of
h.s personal freedom becomes readily a friend of
absolute government. As a compensation, therefore
a relaxation of conventional etiquette, especially of
the conventional social Gene (constraint), must keep
even pace with the advance of political freedom

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IS^i^S^^^mfff

346

ST/LL HOUHS.

As long as Christianity refuses frankly to acknow-
ledge political freedom as its legitimate sister, it will
fail to acquire the confidence of the men of these
days to any great extent.

If a man is not allowed to set before himself any
political aims, at least any positive aims, but only
private aims, he is being practically educated in
egotism. And can this be good for the State ?

The universal longing for freedom is the necessary
consequence of the fact, that self-determination is
the distinctive characteristic of human action.

In our ecclesiastical disputes we may easily see
what a bad thing it is for a man nowadays to have
no clear and certain political convictions, as is the
case with by far the larger number of our clergy.

He who turns away from historical progress
because it sometimes gets into dirty hands, must
take himself out of God's creation altogether.

Formerly a man's political opinions were con-
sidered as having no necessary connexion with the
condition of his individual morality ; nowadays this
is no longer possible.

It is still a widespread misconception, that every
agitation originates in impure motives, This was

FORMATION OF PARTIES. 3^7

a consequence of our having so in^^iiij^ly ac-
customed ourselves to absolutism.

J"h '" tr^["^^"'^ °^ ^'^^ this blessing accompanies
freedom, that law and order are h.id . .ar by those

Withm Christianity order ceas.s n be ..rder the
moment it oppresses freedom.")

•i(

1*1

FORMATION OF PARTIES.

All parties in the state have a relative right*
none can have more.) and each must be abie
thoroughly to assert its own.

*
In public life we must follow the stream of history
quite regardless of the appearance presented by its'
more immediate organs: for we do not follow these,
but the history whose organs they are. and this often
without rightly understanding it ourselves.

*
Public life is impossible without parties (combin-
ations formed of those who are striving after a
common end. with the same means, and according
to one united method.) and the organizations and
agitations connected with them.

*
Ever>' movement which asserts itself in conscious
conjunction with others, necessarily becomes a party.

* Naturally in very different degrees.

f:!^

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348

STILL HOURS.

In this there is nothing wrong. Only the party must

be for a cause, not for a person. It is actually a sign

of progress that we have parties nowadays in all

departments of public life, and, as a consequence,

fewer cliques.

There will be no thorough reformation in our
politics, until the word " conservative " has become
completely antiquated. It means nothing more than
simply " desirous of privileges."

Our " well-disposed " people are for the most part
either without disposition at all, or actually very ill-
disposed.

POPULAR REPRESENTATION.

Whenever the idea of the State has dawned upon
the consciousness of a people, especially of its more
intelligent classes, there is felt simultaneously the
need of a representative government.

The representation of the people must be also a
real representation of the State ; — representation, not
only of individuals as such, (so that each one as a
particular individual may have his share in the
guidance of the community,) but also of the idea of
the whole of the cominunity as such. These two,
however, are thoroughly intermixed and interdepen-
dent. It is not the government alone, which repre-
sents the State as such.

A RSOL UTISM. —REPUBL /CS.

349

ABSOLUTISM.

The sovereignty of the masses (not that of the
people, which, rightly understood, is quite as it should
be,) rests upon one and the same principle as abso-
lutism,— the final authorization, not of that which is
morally and constitutionally right, but of that which
accords with the particular will of the individual.

*
In absolute monarchies the taste for the true and
simple degenerates to a melancholy degree.

*
A limited autocracy, i.e. arbitrary government, is
the most senseless of all political constitutions.

*
As long as the idea of the State is not yet alive in
the general consciousness of the people, so long, but
not a moment longer, the autocratic element is per-
fectly justifiable. This, however, let us remember,
is true only if we assume that the autocratic govern-
ment directs its constant efforts towards the awakincr
of that idea in the people's consciousness.

REPUBLICS,

He who wishes to educate a nation into ripeness
for a republic, can do so in no other way than by
training it to virtue, and especially to inviolable re-
spect for every legal institution, disagreeable as it
may be. The most dangerous people for dynastic
monarchies are men who work in this direction.

IS!

3SO

STILL HOURS.

It is utterly vain, and leads only to confusion and
obstruction, to seek to realize one's ideas in politics
before they have penetrated the masses. The un-
ideal nature of republican politics is, therefore, by no

means a misfortune, but salutary wisdom.

A hereditary aristocracy in a free state, is one of
the most odious of political deformities.

The Republic is the only form of government in
which the avoidance of revolution is absolutely assured,
from which therefore the revolution is absolutely ex-
cluded.

REVOLUTION.

There occur in history times of judgment, — periods
in which, in the consciousness of the age, an irre-
vocable sentence of death is pronounced upon his-
torical powers, although some space of existence may
still be left them. The year 1848 was a time like
this.

GERMANY.

As matters stand with us at present in Germany,
our only political task seems to be that of judiciously
training up the people, even those belonging to the
lowest strata, to such a moral («>., as should always
be understood, religious and moral) excellence, that
the aristocratic, or more exactly, the privileged, classes
will have to be ashamed in its presence.

NORTH .l.VD SOUTH GERMANY.

351

We Germans present a melancholy spectacle in the
fact that so many who were in their youth spiritually
stirred degenerate so soon into Philistinism. It is a
sign that our political affairs are out of order The
reason is that our civil life is not really public life
Are matters in the same state in En^rjand ?

Because we Germans do not consider the separate
state to which we each more immediately belon- as
our actual fatherland, but only Germany as a whole
which IS represented by no dynastic monarchical
government, we live in a certain sense as citizens
of a free state, and for this reason we wish to think
of ourselves in the first place as Germans, not as
1 russians, Bavarians, Saxons, etc. And thus, in per-
feet accordance with the nature of German ideolo^ry
we live in the midst of our dynastic states the ideal
hfe of a republican nation.

*
Why do we demand the political unity of Germany?
Because we Germans are one people, and nothing
separates us but nominal dynastic rights, whose moral
importance we are no longer able to recognise.

NORTH AND SOUTH GERMANY.
The South German has unquestionably this char-
acteristic advantage over the North German tha^
the individual feels himself more directly and vividly
a member of the whole, of the people in general
though in the first place only of his particular race

v."

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352

STILL HOURS.

The North German in his proud self-satisfaction
despises himself for his own jokes, the South German
laughs at things and people with the air of a foolish
person, who does not consider himself as wiser or
better than the object of his merriment, but as a
child, to whom in his simplicity persons and things
appt^ar droll and farcical.

Prussians are the worst provincialists among the

Germans ; in their happy self-consciousness they

naively consider their own Prussian affairs as those

of Germany as a whole, or at least as their highest

point.

My sympathies are by no means with the Prussians
as such, but only with the Prusso-Germans.

If a purely German state like Prussia, (it is quite
another case with Austria), wishes to be something
more than this, wishes to become one of the great
po .vers of Europe, instead of looking upon Germany
alone, itself included, as a great European power, this
is, and must ever be regarded as, an un-German dis-
position.

When the South German puts on airs of conse-
quence, we indulge him in it patiently, because it
always appears a little ridiculous.

I do not, generally speaking, consider it a specially

EUROPE.

3S3

favourable sign, wlien a South G.r^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^l
ransplanted to North Germany, feels himself pa "
cularly comfortable. I would not say this howeve
..e. .Of a North German transpLteaIrS

EUHOPE.

^ In our Europe, England alone excepted, there a -^
in consequence of its historical developm nt evl'
where unnatural and aooarenfl,, . ^"'^"^' ^^^'^>-
u- , apparently insurmountable

hindrances opposed to the natural a. , ""taoie
moral hTe. development of

wil^JrV'^.f" °" """■"^"'^' ^"^°P^-" states
W.11 all finally return to absolutism. For our

dynast,es will never decide in favour of a rea ly and
smcerely constitutional (therefore of a dem rat ct
government, and our populations, owing Ttl
h.stoncal antecedents, appear to b= incapable of a
repubhcan constitution, on account of the yet u„
ex m, hed dynastic parties in their midsr The'
age of European culture is undoubtedly verging upon
^» close; but, on the other hand, the dawn of a
Transatlantic culture is just as unmistakablv be!
gummg to break. . '

In our old Europe we shall never realize a rational
arrangement of ecclesiastical, and even of pol ti'ca

found themselves from the first on the simple, right

III.

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354

STILL HOURS.

and natural road, because they have established per-
fect freedom of the churches in relation to the State.

The circumstance that our present political re-
lations present to so many a relative impo'^sibility of
honestly yielding obedience to their sincere con-
victions, — especially hi religious and theological
matters,— must bring deep def-soralisatlon in its train.

Must it not enrage a nari^n to see its interests in
the hands of smooth drawing-room gentlemen, in
whose artificial and conventional sphere of life every
full and deep human emotion has been extinguished ?

Wiil nations never come to understand the simple
truth, that the interests of all are entirely reciprocal ?

FRANCE.
The worst political evil is when a nation fears, and
is obliged to fear, itself. This is the present con-
dition of the French nation.

RUSSIA.

Russia is that frightful empire of the knout, by
whose example our continent'al European princes
possess the physical power of ruling their people
absolutely, even against the universal national will.

^■■i
fc

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QUESTIONS OF CULTURE

f *

m J'M;

III. I lllilii

XI. QUESTIONS OF CULTURE.

HISTORY.

between the lines ,eL"„ '""""^ ''^^"'"S
escapes the ordin^/obZe " '^ -^^ '■"■''^

on...hee,o„;r^:r*er:si;~i;;^.r
::;^er/u::r%r^^----^

historian must not be dl-tute "f"" "'^, '"^
capacity. aestitute of speculative

ooa,tHe„Msto^e::o:u:r:^^:::r'^'^'

The reason why the course of God's works appears

357

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558

STILL HOURS.

II i

111:

ill!

SO slow to man, is that, within the compass of his own
existence, he has accustomed himself to such small
dimensions.

He who wishes to work thoroughly, must work
very slowly. This is true even of God.

Who, in looki'if^ upon history, especially upon that
of Christianity, could refrain from wondering — even,
for a moment, from doubtful — astonishment at the
excessive slowness ;with which God carries on His
work in the world, allowing it to take its course
through a thousand apparently retrogressive wind-
ings! The Divine world-government frequently
appears even as a retarding force. Why does He do
this but just because the work must be, not His
alone, but also ours, — because His work in the world
is to develop it from itself, a process carried ci with
no sudden bound. And peo e actually lo K sur-
prised at our theory as to the origin of evil !

God retards the progress of Hi'^ kingdom, so that
even the weak may follow after. (Predestinatioii.)

Cf. 2 Pet. iii. 9.

When the Redeemer speaks <-f a "shoi enii " ot
the great tribulation in the last times, He expressly
takes for granted that the history of humanity,
especially of Christian humanity, proceeds according
to a law of inward development, which God un-

fflSTOR K
359

iaws of the creature's life.

Slowly a.,d through more nu.nerous stages of de
very reason ,t endures all the longer in . ceaseles.

The result of the life-experienco of the thou-htful
rTh" '\r ''" ="' "^'"S^ '•" «^- -orld are vai , b^

^ If V ' " '"^ ,"""=■ '"""'-'•^''^"^ ™-^' of th

vast dro h "r^^' °"' "'"' P^'" ^"d t°» from
vast dross-heaps f the vain and worthless.

b„rt?r'' ''"'"' '"' ^'""^ °f '"^ --Id's history .
ha mony which aecompanies it, as that melody re-
touches I" "'"^ """""^ °^ ''"™" ->-- ^h^t

Well for him who .oes in history, especially in that
of hs o,vn day, the real facts themselves and no
-ely, as so many do. the dark shadow whtl they

n>.-"Xr:^''^'^''"'^*°"'>" ->'''-="'> the
Historically dominant spiritual forces e.x-ercise an

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STILL HOURS.

incalculably important moral influence, even upon
those who are quite unconscious of their existence.
They arc the spiritual imponderables.

*
Changing times oblige most people to be always
looking at matters with different eyes.

All beginnings present a crude and uncouth ap-
pearance, even those in history.

Moral forces, even according to the principle of

their own nature, become in the course of time

physical forces ; and the further history progresses,

with all the greater celerity. Only we must not

imagine for a moment that moral powers can be

really, and therefore permanently, extinguished by

physical force.

As the earth in the course of its formation passed
through very varied cosmic conditions, so has
humanity in its moral history.

Why do men, in the movements of history, follow
dark impulses only "i In order that the guiding
power may remain in the hand of God.

CULTURE.

The correct measurement of great and small is a
fairly tr' ^tworthy criterion of culture.

fl!:(i;

CULTURE.

361

l.a.s an .mpress.on of the power of prejudice.

It forms a part of true cLll^^ro fo 1 ui

^--«.c.„e.j:::----

or^^:tret:':-i-^"P-nea .Her

wUh it represet IZTT IT ''°"'

one and the sam. .k- \ ?, clirccted towards

Pecunar vt ^ ;,';l:;„^7'^.t^- Hence t.,e

reason also it is ,1.7 "'""' ""^ ''°'- ">'»

theoretic (or „t „ tlaO Tur^"'^ °' '"^ ""'•'"'''

standing Ts the;efol to ' "' f ' '°' '"^ ""^^r-
themodeofidetr '° ^'"''5?"^'"' everything in
form of ideas Th. T "' ''"""'^""e '" ">e

versa, cit; Jht ':r::r™r'"'"^""'--

anther is Virtuosity, the redprS oTp'Lr
OS et;; ^"'"'^ -f-sa..-sfaction). and an obje ^
possession (,.e. acquirement, or propertvl T„ i,„
vrtuoso is therefore the characteristic ^f the Ihest

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','■ .1 t:

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'■■Mi

* ■ 38

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362

STILL HOURS.

practical culture. It is the meeting-point of public
and social life ; and the highest task for man's forma-
tive action is therefore that everything shall be

fashioned with virtuosity.^

We do not really understand a truth, until we
have perfectly contemplated the various applications
of which, on its many sides, it is capable.

What we best understand with the understanding,
we are often least capable of doing.

I usually understand best Ihe ver>' things that I
can do least.

It matters little in Divine things that we should
know, if we are not clearly aware zuhat we know.

Every author writes for those who understand him,
not for those who cannot or will not understand him.
Hence the mistaken nature of all polemics.

*
We see things more truly in proportion as we see
them in wider connexions.

In order to the correct understanding of the world,
those men are necessary who arc accustomed to con-

* Cf. George : " Metaphysik," p. 397, etc.

SC/ENC/-.

arelt;»f:" ''' ''™^*^° thoroughly staple, „e

SCIENCE.

Among the rubbish of our scientific h'terature Ifo

have no t.me to search among the sweepings.
ouJfi™:tr°^^"»^'*-'-<>''-"e to trust

object, bj whatever artificial machinery thi ' mav bo

t ::?: rt"'i:-'r^"='^'^ ^-^ -Lc l^^'o

ML observer. It ,s the true nature of objects whi.i,

,.r^^ sensations which these objects

produce on our oro-nnc ^r ^ujecis

uur organs of sense, not mrrph, fK«

se^.t,o„s ,hem3eives which these' objectsTvf p^

~f j,^::L:r "^^ ^^-^^ '^ '^^ ~-

He who has not sufficient respect for science that
sonahty, need have notliing whatever to do with it

1 «

i.;

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STILL HOURS.

We have far more need of reproductive than of

productive intellects.

It belongs to the character of the scholar, in the

higher sense of the word, that he has no expectation

of success for his work during his own lifetime.

It is unfortunate when a man, in the course of a
long life spent in constant occupation with science,
has never learned to control his own ideas. In what
an excessive confusion must this result!

Why do I consider it a calamity, when professors
(scholars) do work which docs not properly belong
to their profession } Because, in this way, the work
which does belong to their profession, and which
none but themselves can perform, must remain,
partially at least, neglected.

Every one ought to strive after freedom from error
by being content to know nothing, except what he,
according to objective and subjective conditions,
really can know, and by strictly distinguishing, within
the range of his ideas, between what he really knows,
and what he has only learned from tradition. He
who wishes to be free from error, must renounce the
idea of knowing mucJi.

The scholar is never more comfortable than when
nothing "happens" in his individual sphere of life,

tut

ART.

365

when eveo. one leaves him entirely unmolested. But
m th.s very fact lies for him a great temptation.

Unconscious ignorance is not error.

ART.

Artistic (or aesthetic) beauty is that attribute of
the representation of the individually dctern^incd
self-consciousness, by means of which the objective
or Identical tmage of the object (of the individually

of . P;^f;.-JyPure and energetic manner in
some mdividual form. The beauty of a work of art
avvays presupposes that the individually determined
self-consciousness of the artist possesses the peculiar
power of penetrating with his understanding, there-

Z.T') 'I''"'" of sense-perception, (or emo-
tions.) mto objective nature, into the actual beinc. of
his object;! and on the other hand, that the artist
possesses the capacity of representing, and thus
transmitting to others, this his individual knowledge
r.e. h.s individual perception or feeling of the object'
in a peculiarly pure and energetic manner, by means
of the symbol. Both these powers in their union
constitute the true artist, who thus requires, in order
to his perfection, a culture which must carry on its
work chiefly on the reproductive side. Thus we sec
the reason why so many erroneously consider them-
selves as artists. They possess one element of the
' Cf. Hegel ; " I'ropadeiUik," g 187.

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366

STILL HOURS.

artist, but only one, most commonly they possess the
perceptive alone.

True artists must feel things before, and with
poorer means of knowledge than other men, in order
that others may learn to feel them rightly.

Beauty, in general, is the attribute of the outward
or material object, and is clearly meant to reflect (to
allow an appearance or shining through of) the idea,
using the word in a stHct metaphysical sense, according
to which idea is regarded as equivalent to spirit. It
must be a representative symbol of the idea, whether
it be the idea of one particular object, (supposing
that an idea of that object can exist ; as eg, of man,)
or of some other idea or totality of ideas (as the
world in its totality is the reflection of such an idea).
This beauty may be either a natural product, like
the beauty of nature, or an artistic product, as e.g.
the beauty of a melody ; or both together, as the
beauty of the human body,i and as far as we can
speak of such a thing,- the beauty of the soul.^

* The ideal, through whose reflex upon itself the body is
beautiful, is the human personality. That human body is beau-
tiful which is for the spectator a representation of the human
body in its truth and its perfection : Ecce Homo ! The Apollo
Belvedere.

'^ We may, indeed, speak of soul beauty, so far as the soul as
natural is a material thing, therefore not in itself an idea, which
it becomes on its spiritualization-— when therefore the idea, as
something outside of it, can reflect itself upon the soul.

^ It is a misuse of the word tc speak of beauty in the perfectly

ART.

can

367

the tt." ^"'^""^"y "— 'y to poetry, bceause
deLm no. "" ""' °' '"^ P"'"'"^= -d-'""-"/
speech .s eloquenee under the potency of the tone.

Even social intercourse requires art as an object of
r;' Lltf"'^^' ^^^^■°'>--. "- '-tre o^

The ideal is that being which, according to it, own

coneept-on, is purely ideal; but this it is i^pliw
ever to attain. '"'pubbioic

There is a difference between the mere sign and
the image. ^ "

Architecture is the art which relates speeilicallv to
parfeular personal property. For this'reascl U :
no e«,„s.vely a fine art (as the others are) but is
at the sanre t,me, a trade, as having in view necessity.'
(C/ on th,s po,nt Schelling: Werke, i. ;, p. 57, etc
For th.s reason it is the earliest of the plastic J-'tl

The wonderful thine in mii<-' j- f' ^ •

*'"t, in musi,, It. tnat it, while

realized spirit. It is too poor a dcscrioti - ■ ,> t, • •

:< •■

"!^'

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368

STILL HOURS.

appealing entirely to the emotions, does so on one
side entirely through the understanding, namely,
through the strictest mathematics of tones.

*
Like emotion and impulse, fancy and taste need to
be rendered moral, to have their sensual character
laid aside ; the wildness of the former (which de-
forms even sensual organic life), and the crudity of
the latter.

Emotion and impulse, when united by means of
fancy, are, in the moral process of human life, a
plastic force, a moral plastic power.

LITERATURE.

Speech or discourse falls into two families, the
epic and the dramatic. The former seeks only to do
justice to the object by representing it to the auditor,
and thus to do justice to the auditor as regards the
object ; the latter seeks to produce the object as a
real power, as an active influence over the spectator,
and it thus directly draws the spectator into the
action represented by the object.

Speech, purely as such, (as word-speech,) always
wavers in the current contrast of the universal and
the particular ; it expresses only the former, and can
never produce perfectly particular things, never a
perfect image of concrete objects. Speech can do

CRITICISM.

369

this only by means of poetry (Cf~Z^- ". ~

"^sthetik," p. 638-644.) ^^^ ^^hleiermacher:

The literary world ought to see lh,^ fi,„ 1
or a people does not beckon. obsTlnat': "'"^'=

of z discied ; tpi':,iT„ "^" *^ '"^^'■^^
:-ves,..tha.^uxrtrj:::s

The best test of the "classfr-,1 " • .1 .

He who is a poet only in his childhood, is for that
very reason a poor and childish poet.

It belongs to the nature of the didactic poem th.^
•t can have only a short existence Witl th
or scientific Knowledge men CuJ^IJ^T^ ^

CRITICISM.

It is not only much more pleasant and satisfactory

but also much more instructive, to search 2 ^'

keep in view the .nod o,,d ^J, T ^^^ ^"^

- o-oa .,nd g.eat qualities in others

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ST/LL HOURS.

than the mean and worthless,
of literary criticism.

This is specially true

Many authors appear to imagine that books are

written in order that scholars may criticise them,

while they really exist in order that scholars may use

them.

If, in criticising the ideas of others, we reprehend

them for logical errors into which they have fallen,

we ought always to remember in doing so that we

ourselves are only too apt to stumble in the same

way.

Doctrinarianism consists, not so much in the setting
up of an exact doctrine, as in the tendency to apply
some special doctrine in its scien^^ific purity, and con-
sequent abstractness, immediately to any given con-
crete case.

PEDAGOGY.

To excite piety by cherishing morality (not the
reverse) is the true canon of instruction within Pro-
testant Christianity. Its consequence is, that the
guidance of education can never, in Protestant Chris-
tianity, become a mere affair of the Church.

Those schoolmasters who have usually produced
deep and lasting religious impressions upon the youth
of learned scholars, are not the professors of religion^

PEDAGOGY.

pious and full of unction as these may "bT^^^Z

"t™:^ifrr''"^"^ -^^ p..no4.s i

If I find myself under tiie moral training influence
of any one, tl,e true knowledge of his moratcha a
- mcomparably more important for .he attarnml
of^th. purpose than that of his social position and

*
In the training of our young men for their profes

CXI r;:iirc*::' nr ''-' "-

de.TreP r,f . . ^"^ ^ ''°"<' ™''h any

,„f !! , "'■""">'' ''"'' ■■" ^"^g^d to which the true
.ght a most always comes too late, but rather la
tliey (fo learii somethinfr

amernrn""'-'"''"''''""''""''' ^^ '° ^is audience
a means of learnmg, not an object of learning

I '■ '^i " tJ

lr:i

?i I

CHRISTIANITY AND THE CHURCH.

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iff'

XII. CHRISTIANITY AND THE
CHURCH.

T/IE CHURCH.

He who Wishes to have a Church must support him-
self entirely upon those to whom piety as such is
the main point in Christianity. But if we are to
have a real Church, in some sense a national ecclesi-
astical community, not merely a small body of sepa-
ratists, it must be so organized that those whose main
concern is religious morality, indeed morality in
general, shall be able to exert themselves within it
without spiritual compulsion or constraint of con-
science. Even in a Church constituted thus the
former party will remain its life and soul.

*
The reason why natural religions can produce no
Church ,s that the Church rests essentially on the
assumption of a distinction between piety and natu-al
or universally human life. (C/ Romang: "System
der Natiirlichen Religion," § 28.)

*
What the Church actually is, determines itself
accordmg to the prevalent conception of it.

373

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376

STILL HOURS.

^; r

If the social life of a community is, on the one
hand, so perfectly developed in all things, and espe-
cially in itself, and on the other hand, so penetrated
by religion, that within its circle an approximately
universal and perfect religious moral community
exists, then the universal community ceases to have
its locality and its organ in the Church. The latter
then becomes the organ of the religious community
of those who recognise the religious as really reli-
gious only in its separation from the moral. But as
these, according to the nature of their standpoint,
necessarily determine the religious to a certain extent
arbitrarily, their piety will have, in some measure, an
idiosyncrasy in it, and their ecclesiastical life will
thus expend itself in a multitude of little individual
idiosyncratic ecclesiastical schemes and arrangements.
Two opposing currents run parallel in the province
of the Church : the one aims at attaining the most
comprehensive, but at the same time the least strictly
ecclesiastical community; the other seeks to secure
the most strictly ecclesiastical, but at the same time
the most narrow and exclusive ecclesiastical com-
munity. The tendency to a State (or rather to a
national) Church is inherent in the former ; the av cr-
sion to such a Church is equally inherent in the latter.

As regards the Church, we must direct our efforts
to provide that those only shall belong to it wliO, be-
cause of their ecclesiastical interest — their interest,
that is, in the special Church concerned— are its volun-

THE CHURCH. 37^

tary adherents. This will date from the period when
Christianity in the people is secured even indepen-
dently of the Church.

*
My own principle is tlie same as that which floats
before the minds of those who place their whole in-
tcrcst in the « invisible Church." But because I think
the matter clearly and distinctly out, and consequently
must protest against their meaningless description of
an invisible Church, I call forth their loudest opposi-
tion. ^*

«
The final word of the advocates of the Church is
that some institution is indispensable as a means for
transmitting the Gospel to humanity. But in the
present position of Christianity is there really need
of such a special institution .? What can the Church
do m this direction which the State does not also do
entirely of its own accord ? Is it that the Church
transmits along with the Gospel i(^ own interpreta-
tion of it-its dogma > liut matters have now come
to such a stand that the only part of dogma which
has or can have the slightest authority is that which
Christian sentiment and Christian science have
learned quite independently of it. What does the
Church of the present know of Christ and Christian-
ity (as a historical fact) more than the Christian
world >.

*
It is sad if matters have been reduced so low in the
Church that, in order to its continuous existence, the

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STILL HOURS.

multitude of sensible and honest men must allow
themselves to be guided by a handful of fanatics.

«
As long as Christians as Christians had a share in
no other community except the Church, so long, but
not a moment longer, Christianity and the Church

were really identical.

When a man proceeds on the candid assumption,
that it is the Church round which everything finally
revolves in the history of the salvation of our race ;
then, reasonable as he may otherwise be, his con-
siderations of human things become utterly confused.

If in the present position of Biblical and dogmatic
criticism, Christianity in its ecclesiastical form can no
longer exist, then we may very well let it go.

One of the most significant symptoms of the pre-
sent condition of the Church in Protestant Christ-
endom is the great cooling of interest in historical
studies, apart from those directly connected with
disputed ecclesiastical questions, among the rising
generation of theologians

Our " Church-people " arc optima fide, reactionaries
against the world-government of Christ.

The only salutary policy for the Church is con-
stantly to maintain vital contact and sincere friend-

THE CHURCH.

379

ship with all the currents of Christianity in other
departments of life.

One of the chief tasks of our present evangelical
church-government must be to extinguish evcry^spark
of clerical pride.

The less Christian piety accentuates the Church
the greater need does it feel to belong to a -reat'
comprehensive ecclesiastical community, the more'
mtolerable does it find a sectarian position.

Our churchmen and clergy act in all naivete, as
if Christianity existed for the sake of the Church and
the clerical profession, while the true state of matters
is exactly the reverse.

Many misconceptions of our preachers nowadays
are not attributable to themselves, but to the present
historical position of the Church.

*
It cannot be our duty to maintain the Church at
the risk of breaking up Christianity.

*
The oft-repeated demand that "all outward au-
thority " shall fall to the ground in matters of the
Christian religion, means in concrcto nothing less than
that the Church as a whole must fall.

*
He who believes that all religion, or at least all

380

STILL HOURS.

revealed religion, is worthless, is easily goaded on to
theological fanaticism.

It is narrow-minded to imagine that the justifica-
tion of the chequered subjectivism of men will be
conducive to freedom in the Church.

The confusion which exists as regards the idea of
the Church has for its ultimate cause the fact, that
while maintaining quite correctly that " The company
of believers, which is in its inward essence a com-
munion with and in Christ, ought to represent and
realize itself in the world as such," 1 we at the same
time take for granted that this must happen in some
other way than in human society itself, our reason
being that the latter community actually existed
before Christ and independently of Him.

It is confusing and pernicious in its effects, to
demand such things from the Church as ought indeed
without doubt to be demanded from Christianity, but
which, according to its fundamental principle, can
never be accomplished by a Church.

We seriously misunderstand the nature of the
Church, if we seek to put an end to the " want of
sympathy " of our evangelical " congregations," by
awakening their interest in the political life, without

* Jul. Kostlin : " Der Glaiibe," p. 403.

TI/R CHURCrr.

^ 381

having first aroused their interest in the religious life
of the Church.

^ The Church is important only to the man to whom
piety Itself ,s important, to whom it is the highest and
hohest of all things. The most worthy Christianity,
'f It ,s not at the same time religiosity, counts for
nothmg m the Church.

*
Ought congregations to be twice represented in
the Church, first by their legitimate delegates to the
bynod, and then also personally, and indeed in a
majority of their numbers ? Ought the latter to be
entrusted with the decision as to what the " needs "
of the "congregations" arc? If congregations wish
to be represented, the first condition is that they
sliall respect the decisions of their representatives
To seek first to deliberate upon these decisions
means nothing less than a dissolution of the ecclesi'
astical community.

The primary necessity for a Christian community
is that It shall frankly acknowledge that the Gospel
occupies an objective position, as a norm, which is
perfectly independent of its own estimation and reso-
lutions.

If, on the one hand, full ecclesiastical freedom is

allowed, and if, on the other hand, every Church is

bound by necessity to support itself financially

entirely by the contributions of its adherents, then

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382

STILL HOURS.

a tru( and actual church-community is the natural
and direct result. Where one or other of these two
conditions is absent, or where both are wanting, an
attempt must be made to establish a true and actual
ecclesiastical community by artificial means, but in
this way the end is never really attained.

*
Government presupposes reasonableness on the
part of the governed ; when this is wanting, as in
the case of our church-members, no one can be ex-
pected to take an interest in the government.

Because the historical existence of the Kingdom of
Christ originally required a special community (the
Church), we cannot get rid of the idea that it must
always remain so.

The simple and only effectual means against separ-
atism is unlimited ecclesiastical freedom.

The Christian Church does not exist merely for its
own sake, but also for the sake of Christian revela-
tion, as a means for its transmission ; and since as
Christian it can be an ecclesiastical {i.e. purely re-
ligious) community only in proportion as it is a
community founded upon the Christian revelation,
the connexion of these two points in its vocation is
an inward necessity. We may expect to find them
both existing in equal proportion, and the chief task
in the organization of the Church is that it shall

THE crwRcir.

383

really be so It must strive after its object of bcin^
a purely rehgious community in such a way that in
so domg us other object, to be a means for the
transm.ss.on of Christian revelation, remains uncom'
prom.sed. and is. as far as possible, promoted.

«
The common presupposition, that in the same
people the Church is more Christian than the StaTc'

a perfectly free association, and adherence or non-
adherence to it a matter of perfectly free individual

*
From the fact that the company (flock) of Christ's
people ongmally constituted itself as a Church it
does not necessarily follow that the flock of Chris't is
to be Identified with the Church.

*
The idea of a Church exists in and for itself quite
independently of Christianity, although to Christi!
an.ty .t undoubtedly owes its historical existence.

. ^!\'' 'Ify ^^^'•'"'■"g to see to what degree of in^
B|pid.ty Christianity may be reduced in the hands of
ecclesiastical, and especially of orthodox, people.

According as we consider the conception of the

Christian Church either as that of the transmitter of

he historical efficacy of Christ, or as that of a purely

1-el.g.ous community, we shall shape our ideas of wor.

i . I

^Hfl

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384

STILL HOURS.

ship from diflfcrcnt points of view. In the former
case, we shall direct our chief efforts towards organ-
izing it as a transmitter of Christian tradition ; in
the latter, we shall construct it upon such a foundation
as shall be most in accordance with the views of all
its members.

A national Church exists wherever a nation carries
on its national moral task, supported by the con-
sciousness of common piety as the basis of united
activity.

The Church ought to train men for heaven ; but if
it imagines that it can and ought to do this itn-
inediately, otherwise than by helping to train them to
live noble lives on eaith, it has fallen into an idle
dream. For heaven can be built up only upon earth.

The point of controversy in our Churches now-
adays is whether we are to have a historical Chris-
tianity or a Christianity of sects.

Those who, in order to assist the Church, direct
their influence not upon those who are spiritually at
the summit of the mountain, but upon those who are
spiritually walking at its foot, ought not to expect
much success for their ca ise.

There is, thank God, not merely a Christian Church,

P/ETV.

385

^.cparated by confessions and creeds.

life'rutsit l^cu °^ '''*^'""'' ^' ^^^ --P-- of
outs.de the Church, is pernicious and wron<r

PIETY.

There are many, even among the best of peonle

A serious and fundamental error of our dogmas

logians define ideas always from the purely relMol
pomt of vie,v. /... they always take up a pola 0° a
f man determined his actions directly and m tl"

arordLrto h ''"''' ""'''''= ■"■■"■ '■■'■• '"'solutely
me case ,n the doctrine of sin, etc. But it ;, 1
assumption which is entirely contrary to exn riencT
and a. such it is contrary to common sense ''

In the contrast which our cariier theology used to
draw between res spin,„aUs and res cMcX ^
comes remarkably evident how the csse:^; l':!

B B

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386

STILL HOURS,

character of Christianity has remained hidden from
the minds of theologians, even among Protestants,
and how the moral as such has as yet no essentially
positive relation to Christian piety and to Christianity
as a whole.

lift'

lii

Unconditional surrender of himself to God is un-
doubtedly the essence of all requirements which can
be made of man ; but, let it be remembered, it must be
self-surrender along with a morally useful life. Other-
wise ^he has nothing to surrender to God, and the
apparent implicitness of the surrender is merely its
emptiness, while the pompous talk upon the subject
is really a presumptuous mock:,^ry of God.

To make everything depend on piety, and to be at
the same time without interest or taste for the com-
prehension of the works of God, even in the details of
their nature and teleological connexion, is an inward
Contradiction which we not unfrequently encounter.

In characterizing the moral well-being of man, the
Church's doctrine gives prominence only to its formal,
i,e. its religious side, but never to its material, i.e. its
moral side. It emphasizes only the fact that the
course of action which is becoming on the part of
man is obedience in humble confidence and grateful
love to God ; but never that this course of action
ought to be in itself the production of an essential
good, the accomplishment of a task on earth which

a i

t (

PIETY.

ments of God frnm "^ ''^ ^^^^ that the require-

world,, .astltlr:en,TcLTr'^ "'^^^
sufficient statement of the caTe. '"^'""^ "

The merely religious standpoint ai v. k •

along- witli If fho o • , ^ • -^^ bnners

^ "' '^ ^^^ '^^^°"« danger of self-deception

The opus operatum is the nece^.pr„
and therefore the characteris ic m rlof aH 7'"™";
--..on and piety that are^not Z^; LZ. '°™^ "'

that it possesses ^Z^IT.^17 T "'^°'°»"^'
"«ch it expresses ^l ZZZVZ!^:' 7° "-•
IS Its "world." -1 he world

-t;t^o:;;!^--5,:j— ^^^^

work for the attainment of oC 've 1 T ' '"
sions cannot be aroused. The on vL ? ''°'''"
the interest in the souls salva«:: ^ "' '"°'™ ''^

The cardinal idea through which fh<. . / • • *
conceotion c^ ..«i; • • , "^^ ^^cdcsiastical

.. although the Scriptures are unaware of any

I
ft'

.1 ;

i .!

388

STILL HOURS.

further expression than Trveufiariico^, — i.e. the spiritual
without the mediation of the moral. Is not this idea
a relapse from specific Christianity ?

There is a close connexion between the mistaken
ideas as to the relation of piety to morality, and the
custom of representing heavenly blessedness as a con-
dition of rest, of keeping holiday. Do we find this
idea anywhere expressed by Christ ?

Why do you, who are so indignant at the predomi-
nance of material interests in our own times, regard-
ing it as a symptom of deep degeneracy, not rather
lead those who pursue them to a consciousness of
the inward connexion between these material in-
terests and the highest ends of humanity ?

*
The more Christianity is considered exclusively as
piety, the more will the mind of the Christian be sub-
ject to doubts as to his being in a state of grace ; for
in the same proportion his relation to God is without
the mediation of the moral, and the want of this
element will specially afifect his understanding. The
demon world will consequently be all the more likely
to interfere.

As regards the processes of spiritual, and especially
of religious, lifej that which is morally mediated is
often represented from the first as magicah

ih}

PIETY.

389

We need r„„,:;^tm;:'^ =--•«-'- „eans.
The tendency of CIni.tian piety towards tl,c exter

te tTeltt: " 'd " '="""''"'^' "■ ^^
but in an it blltrpXTI''" •"^ ■"°"''

Piety, as understood by some, reaches beyond tl,e
compass of morality, and that alone is regarded a
true and genuine piety which lies beyond th^sel mitl
can st? "'"■"' " ""'"'•'^ -^ ----'i o h ■

tneiefore, suffer by the want of this relation.

Our training in piety ougi.t to educate us to a pietv
which has few words Hn ^^. • "^"^^ a piety

merely in use). ^ ^ ''''''°"' ' '^^^"' "«t

Because Christians nowadays

^■^ii make no

390

STILL HOURS.

progress in the ecclesiastical department (under-
standing this of the conception of the Church), they
imagine that the Christian of to-day should not
occupy him. .If with doing, but should wait quietly
till the Lord Himself—/.^, without human inter-
vention — provide satisfactory conditions for His
people.

It is not a sign of specially good Christianity,
(being not merely harrow-minded, but also very far
from modest and humble,) if we have an eye only for
the evils of our time, and can see nothing of its
peculiar good.

To be discontented with our times, out of humour
with the course of history, is within the period of
redemption nothing less than impious, no matter how
the impiety may seek to disguise itself.

Piety is always a relation to a person, whom alone
we can trust, obey, and love ; in whom alone we can
hope. This is why Christ is so peculiarly suitable as
an object of piety.

How often we find people considering as their
characteristic insignia of heavenly honour what are
really only the crutches for their weakness !

Ordinary pious people cannot conceive man's
subjection to God otherwise than as his subjection to
arbitrary or statutory ordinances of God.

PIETY.

391

He who knows the Christian, or indeed the moral
We as a whole, only as a religious life, and who th^n
as cannot fail to be the ease) eherishes false idea
about religion, cannot flourish as a man.

On the standpoint of exclusively religious morality
the moral subject is indeed necessarily engaged in the
exerc.se of practical moral functions^ esp^edali; tha
of individual culture , but it does not consider them
as morally commanded (because from the abstract

required), but solely as a tribute exacted of him by

Exclusively religious morality is. in danger of
treating with laxity even formal morality itself
Since It knows nothing of moral mediation in re-'
Itgious matters, it is apt to lose sight of the necessity
ot mediation in general.

■X-

If pi-ety considers any moral action as pleasing to
God and as desired by Him, which is not really a
r quirement of the divine world-purpose, which is
her ore, other than a moral purpose, it is, .. ips,
transformed into the magical, and thus moral piety
comes to suffer in its reputation: for a mean If
communion with God which has no reality corre
sponding to it, which i, actually, U by I ZL

\. !•!

K^-

392

STILL HOURS.

connexion, mediates, can
magical means.

nothing else than

If, from the fact that religion occupies the central
position in the moral being of man, we conclude that
his moral development should, and therefore can,
begin directly from the religious side, we have drawn
our conclusion too hastily. Religious development
necessarily presupposes that the beginning, at least,
of moral development is already present.

The specific danger for piety is idleness, (busy
idleness being expressly included,) the mfructnositas
vit(S. Abstract piety is in its very conception slothv
ful.

Even piety has special need to bear in mind con-
tinually that idleness is the beginning of every vice.

An exclusively religious contemplation of matters
always produces mental confusion.

One characteristic defect, which has from the very
first been found in our ecclesiastical piety, is that it
does not understand with perfect clearness, that no
one will receive everlasting salvation from God ex-
cept in so far as he actually receives eternal life in
himself, and this he can receive only on the path of
morality.

Piety is not the foundation, but the soul of human

i i

7'ff£: CLERGY.

life, alike on its individual and its universarsidT
loundation is material nature.

393

Its

Pcty exists m order to harden, not to soften us ;

he t nderness which it imparts to the character i

. ome.h,ng very different from the weak-hearted

o^m,„aey of those people who are always occupied

w.th he,r precous personality and its so-called

necessities. ^«^wii.u

A man may be an excellent Christian, and yet not
possess the very smallest historical insight.

I do not draw any very great distinction between
hose who are Christians only because they have
learned noth.ng different, and those who. for the veJv
sanie reason, are not Christians. Even the Christianity
of those who are Christians /.. a,pu is much of th^
same description.

That is no true piety which imagines tliat the
world exists solely for the sake of reli^on.

THE CLERGY.

^ Many a man who overflows with assurances of the
indispensabihty of faith in Christ, has a clear under!
standing of what he says only so far as he is firmly
pervaded that .^^^^^^^^^

Where does office in the Church originate? with

U 1! 1

' "'"'I

' ill

394

STILL HOURS.

God, or with the congregation ? Like all authority
it originates in the very nature of the community.

Church parties as such exclude themselves from
taking any share in church-government.

The minister's gown must fall off, and the pulpit
be lowered to a level with the congregation.

*
A man may be a itrue pastor, who is to a certain
extent " touchy " (of course, only to a certain extent).

*
What kind of people do we need nov/adays for
pastors.? Men; but men who are clearly conscious
that their manhood comes from Christ alone.

He is a worthless parson who makes a trade of
religion ; but is not the man who chooses it as his
profession strongly exposed to the danger of making
his profession his trade }

He who enters the service of Christ is not clothed
in His livery ; for Christ has no livery.

*
The interests of Christianity cannot regulate them-
selves according to the interests of the clerical pro-
fession.

There is a tendency to arrange Christianity for the
most convenient possible use of the clergy.

IVORSff/P.

____^ ^^^

tho'fa«'"Ir'T' '"."^ Church nowadayslTTn
the fact hat ,.„hout .t there would bo no clcrfry
and for th,s reason it i, they who chiefly represent it

tic3lTi"';"'r. "f"" '* "" =>'"°"' ™' -=>«-s-
t.cal dufes, (and n, that case they must be performed

by men competent to deal with Church matterl^
Which men unacquamted with Church matter, can

e^:^t-:;:;ir'"------o'-;

WORSHIP.

Worship is the primitive, absolutely universal com
mun,on, which as primitive must necessarirb ert
'.8.0US. It is therefore a communion of good w rks
of prayer (answering to sacrifice), of the word of God
and of worship (answering to adoration). In HZ
therefore the formative and perceptive faculty o he

aTer I'tre' t """'^" ^"^ '"^ '^"^ ">-

fof 1 ^ ^"■"'""■cation of religious knowledge
(of the word of God) must be also a direct communica-
t.on of ehgrous apprehension and intuition (worship)
« a rel,g,ous discourse carefully expressed I suitaWe

r^r* m'rrT"" °' ""'S'™^ appropriation
(prayer) must be also a communion of rehVious
apprehension and intuition, etc. "

As moral and religious action and mou. and re-

'■I

396

STILL HOURS.

ligious communion develop themselves first of all in
the individual form, so also does worship. It occurs
in the first place as a communion of prayer (including
sacrifice) and devotion (including adoration). A
communion of good works and religious knowledge
appears in a decidedly pronounced manner only b
Christianity. At the same time, the universal re-
ligious communities supply the sure foundation on
which the individual can be raised. The functions
which represent the^ former must therefore precede
in worship the functions which represent the latter.

^ Knowledge in the religious form (the representa-
tion in words of religious knowledge), is the word of
God.

Sacrifice, because of its connexion with religious
appropriation, is in its essence grateful surrender of
religious possessions to God. For this reason the
body itself comes within the scope of its objects.

*
Worship is the root from which the Church must
It is, of course, the primitive law of an
absolutely universal community, which must proceed
from the religious side of human nature.

*
The character of the " festive " in worship, is the
overpowering of reflection under the immediate im-
pression produced by the religious object.

spnn^

ii'oti!;nip.

39?

regards worship. The Ire if. ^ ""P°«^"« «

union with o„ea„„.her (the two forL,:; the ^^
the two latter in the Lord's Supper). '

If the hearer is to follow the sermon with oleasur.
what he hears must both surprise hin, ^ t' X
and compel assent by its convincing nature for h^'
s^«s.s co„„mmis. (Chrysostom.)

We want no challenging sermons I

retltr^''^ "'"■"' " '""" '"=S'"""'"g to end theo-
r cai. , have a share of practical work only when
cccles.ast,cal practice is an essential part of its object"

in I!^'er1haf ^ ""' '^ * ""'' °' ''"^ ^°' P'— )■
wX.-stpTest^L^r''"'''^^"-^-^'^

' ll'l

»^

398

S7ILL HOURS.

Homilists generally reach the text by way of their
own ideas, whereas the real point is to understand
the ideas of the text and make our own correspond
with them.

/// liturgicis, and in general in ecdcsiasHcis, this
principle holds true :— Better classical Latin than
barbarous German, where classical German is im-
possible.

If we wish to pray in unison with our Christian
forefathers, we must use the same words that they
did ; for they cannot understand our peculiar mode
of speech, while we are very well able to understand
theirs.

If unorthodox people (like myself, for instance)
wish to join in the service of God, they must go to
their orthodox neighbours in the Church; for of
themselves they can produce no form of public wor-
ship, and for this reason they ought to make no
objection if others do not regulate their service
according to their own ideas. It would be a fine
thing, indeed, if in Church matters those who neither
belong to nor i, '!.-ve in a Church (good Christians as
they may other v.. be), v, :re to lay down the law for
those who beIi.;vo : the- Church even granting that
they are worse Cxini.,.ians than themselves). Their
self-confidence, perhaps otherwise justifiable, would be
here decidedly out of place.

THE SACRAMENTS.

^ 399

The scmion ..ust con^ii^^TiTtokUhe princioli
place ,n our public worship : because, as our wo s hi,

knowIed..e • ^hl t . """"""'on of universal

-crifice o ^rayt- T." """^ "^ """"^ "^ ^ -'
condition o T-' '''''"°" ' ''''"'"' ''" ""= ^<^"'="

- s'h a;„^f ;;■ 7°"^^' -• Christian worship

p-.of'r;i::it;-s^^^

Tiy^ SACRAMENTS.

Ch^Lt^rse^oTb"""^"' '^ "°' '"^"■'"'^'' ^y

H.-™, it eea"::' Ll a^.^er/l^u^tr "^
it lacks the power which i. J /l, t ? ' ""' "'='
witness and guarantee o\l '"'"""» '"''"' "^^
fact .ymboh-s^ed „ tie olrr^" '"" '""'^'"'^
administration. '' '"'"""'y °f "^

that' Ttv"^ '"''''' 'S'"'"^' '"'■^"' b='P'«m, it is

SJCcUTbitdS^r °' '-^^

be abolished as reprehensible. ''

ll*:

400

STILL HOURS.

Continuance in baptismal grace is a moral develop-
ment analogous to the personal development of the
Redeemer Himself. But it certainly reaches only
a remote approximation to His development. In
man's case, the development of sin is a constantly
victorious and progressive combat against it.

There is no more powerful expression for the
essential unity (not identity) of piety and morality
than the mystery of the Holy Communion in its
original sense.

The means of nourishment (bread and wine) were
elevated by the Redeemer into means of grace.

If we realize the supreme importance which the
Redeemer attaches to the loving communion of His
people (John xiii. 34, 35 ; xvii. 21-23), we can under-
stand clearly why He wished to have the mystery of
the partaking of bread and wine celebrated at a
common meal.

In the love-feasts, which were one of the earliest
Christian institutions, we see how the Christian com-
munity constituted itself in the earliest times as
social life.

, . J>OCAfA.

" IS noteworthy that th» k j
"othing to do with dogma' " '™'"'' '"'"'^

"■at it is not a defin' e a 'd „ '' °" "'' '"=='""P«°n
conclusion of the rellon jf """""^ acknowledged
astical sanction is aimless IlV '"' '" ""= "="''=^''-
--"'•ng. It comes^.i::f ~"-^-""y -as no

The theologians have tak^n ri •
-aUty of history, and "ged hL° •' ,"' '"= "■""^"

t'cally adorned puppet • and . '"'° ^ '■^"'as.

"- worid oannot^ercSfTo'tr'^'-" "'^'

about Him :-then, the flte""™ "'" ~"^^P'»-
«>« Christ, His ofi^ce „^ >°""''"°" '^°"«™<^''
Person. ' "°'''' " ~"ccr„s Jesus, the

We cannot praise Christ too hi.h, u
Christian dogmatics ^n. / ^ ^^' ^"<^ as to

Church), we vWI, . let T " °' ^^'^^ P^^-^-

^^ "0 great outcry about that.

seif. '^'^ ^^"' ^^^thout clinging to Him-

^ If

c c

4c:

STILL HOURS.

Dissension is unavoidable, as soon as we begin to
lay down dogmas.

By the way in which the different ages interpret
and understand the Divine revelation in Christ, they
all display, although in different degrees, the narrow-
mindedness of their own character. (Think, for
example, of Lessing.) This is the true test of the
spiritual consciousness of humanity in the different
stages of its development.

The whole expression, " Christian truth," is greatly
wanting in clearness. What is " Christian " truth }
Knowledge in the light of the historical fact " Christ,"
— a light which is to be conceived of as in continual
growth.

To have perfect truth ready on the spot (instead of
being in possession of the conditions and means for
working out the truth for ourselves) is an all too
charming thing. Not merely the theologian, but
even the Christian, finds it far from easy to with-
stand this temptation.

There are people enough, who in all good faith
consider the dogmatic system which the Church has
put together from the facts of Divine revelation, as
Christianity itself, or as the only Christianity.

Dogmatic Christianity is with perfect consistency

THEOLOGICAL ^^n SECULAR SCIENCE.

403

From want of reflection as to the objects of our
fe.th, some people swallow the Chur/h'o ,1
"hole, while others, for preciselv the ^^""^

quietly leave them ^lone I „t , ! 7 '"T"'
both very mueh the same P ' ""'' "'"•* "^

Can we suppose that Christ should find oatisf^.f.
-our swallowing down what is indige t Cot „"
Chnst,an tradition (in the widest sense of th word)

^:;:.::;t'' ''-' '- '-^-^ ^^ -- ne^n!

TLfEOLOCLCAL AND SECULAR SCIENCE.

Our contemporaries look for the solution r.f .u
questions and Acuities whieh clt ch.ilnt^

sc e'nTbuT f™"'^' 'r '"^"'"'"^ °^ --S
science, but from secular science Our fh«^i •

and clergy should take note of th' ind' ^tblllcT

our^'contZ::'"'"'-' "" '"''"' ^^ '° '"^ '^--nce of
contemporaries, especially the more cultured

among them, as regards Christianity; but it wo d e

much more correct to complain of the great ignor!

an echaracterfaing our theology, which 1 howeve

Chl'a"n";°f "" :'■'' '''""y- -"'^ 'S— e of
".nnstian.ty shown by men of science

•I,'

mainly

404

STILL HOURS.

chargeable upon the unscientific character of our
theology.

*
As matters now stand, it is of the greatest import-
ance in the interests of Christianity that its debit shall
pass out of the hands of the theologians into those
of the laity. The manipulation of it on the part of
professional theologians, at least before the present
generation, unavoidably carries with it a suspicion of
the shopkeeper.

One of our most pressing necessities is that secular
science should set before itself the task of reaching
by its own methods the ends aimed at by theology.
Only thus can there be for our educated people,
most of whom find it impossible to conduct scien-
tific researches for themselves, another authority,
through which they will be able to yield confident
assent to all real facts (in the widest sense of the
word) in Christianity. For they are, and that not
capriciously or without sufficient reason, profoundly
suspicious as to the trustworthiness of theological
science.

*
The ecclesiastical indifference of people in our days
means in many cases nothing more than that, in their
opinion, the theologians do not really understand much
more about religious questions and problems than
they do themselves. Is this such a heavy crime >

Whenever the clergyman knows no more of Chris-

tianity than the well-instmrfpri in

- singular, that the clergy are not allowed op each
he very th.ngs which, owing to their theoWcal
3tud,es, they really do know better than the l^

him on f , ^' "^^"^ conscience limes

nim on to search after truth ^..^ i • • ""

-^esearch leaves hin/rdrinttSr:

In the present position of matter. Jf i
almost unavoidahly. that eve^, el^V: "sp^:
must take up an artificial position in theology and
1 t h.s left hand know what his right hand doel Tn

nfctld vvlit'"'''"'"^"'^'^"^"'^" P-"'- '-^ ""-

Among the many confusing definitions, with which
lorTherrf """ ''"''-' °" '•" -^ P--' t'-

mote rnd""''"'' '"ir" "' g°^«"'"-"' '^ becoming
more and more self-government of the people the
Ia,ty naturally demand as a condition of'thefLym
Pathy w,th ecclesiastical life, that they shall havca

'];"

4o6

STILL HOURS.

share in the government of the Church, and that this
shall not rest entirely in the hands of theologians.

*
No " privileged " truth exists any longer amongst
us. Truth can claim authority only in so far as it
can actually obtain for itself authority in the convic
tion of men.

*
Theologians are still very much inclined, when
they have a problem to explain, to refer to God,
avoiding thus, by a convenient hypothesis, the ex-
planation which it costs them too much trouble to
make.

All ecclesiastical reforms, which do not proceed
from the belief that our laity know better than the
clergy what the Church requires, can lead to nothing.

I am firmly convinced that the invention of steam-
engines and railroads has had a much more impor-
tant positive influence in furthering the kingdom of
Christ than the elaboration of the dogmas of Nicea
and Chalcedon.

The fact that the Redeemer limited His life-work
exclusively to religion as such has made it possible
that His work, Christianity, shall continue unalterable
through all phases of historical development as a
dominant religious force, while it can still remain in
harmony with every new development of secular

. ^^^^/-^Ty^^/rr outside the ciiurcil 407

knowledge, and indeed in such a way that the further
that knowledge progresses, Christianity itself is placed
by Its means in an ever clearer light, and is brought
to an ever more perfect comprehension.

CHRISTIANITY OUTSIDE THE CHURCH.

There are, I am aware, innumerable people in our
day, who m all sincerity consider Christianity as the
sanctuary of men, and who would not at any cost
a low themselves to be robbed of their right to call
themselves Christians, and who are yet so at variance
with ecclesiastical dogma and its practical conse-
quences, that they, bona fide, can have no share in
maintaining its creeds.

A serious man may very well have other things to
do in life, than to rack his brains about dogmas and
theological controversies. Many a one is very ortho-
dox simply that he may be able to leave theological
quibbles alone. *"

*
^ As regards belief in Christ, there will be no radical
improvement amongst us, till the ends aimed at by
theology are taken in hand by non-theological
science. ^

The current assumption in theology always is that
the degree of a man's adherence to the Church is the
best test of his Christianity. But will a supposition
so utterly opposed to all experience ever again be
able to secure general acceptance ?

I ( '

'lif ■

4o8

STILL HOURS.

How seriously vve deceive ourselves in imagining
that the proclamation of Christ has attached itseff
solely to the preaching of the Church, or even that its
chief means are found in that ! How can it escape
our notice that it has long ago sought and found for
Itself far other, more secular ways, and that its highest
success consists in its having transmitted itself, with-
out the aid of any peculiar institution, as a permanent
mgredient of the prevalent religious and moral at-
mosphere ! ,

Bl,|, I

Universal priesthood of Christians as such; not
merely of Church members !

So long as Christianity and the Church are iden-
tical, Independentism is indeed unchristian {cf.
Schleiermacher: "Prakt. Theol." p. 526, etc.); but the
case differs when a Christian community exists even
independently of the Church.

When theological science has perfected its dogmas,
it falls to the lot of secular science to erect a system'
of theosophy. But the latter does not, like the
former, possess an authority by means of which it can
give to its work a statutory character.

A great deal of that which we consider as a con-
tradiction of Christian faith is only a contradiction of
the ecclesiastical formulating and manipulation of it.

Within the compass of Christend^herT^bo
no absolutely pure " natural » mo a ,.

themselves from T., T ' ^" "^'^ ^^^^^^^P

nemse ves from the first under the influence of the

principle of redemption which has to r T
become histc-ical L . \^^' *° ^^"^'^ degree

true even If .h u ^^ '^^''^ °^ ^'^^- This is

opposition to It (always, of course, oJ>t/.^aM)-

*
VVithin Christendom, especially at tlie present point
of .ts development, tl,e Gospel is by no means'" "
clus.vely proclaimed by the Church'., preaThTn. aTd
teachmg on the subject, and by the'u " of h„ '

quently by mdirect methods.

One of the chief efforts of believers in the present
Church"!"' be to help to set Christ free from the

miL"" ^°; V""' ""' °"" '"°'-= t" walk in our
midst, wou d He be ahl^ f,^ ^^ -j

attire^ fh.n fi, ^"^"^^ "P°" ^"y other

attire than the costume of the laity ?

Under no circumstances whatever do I consider
any special cut of coat as the suitable costume fo
Christianity. Only i„ the dress of the laity doe
Christianity really feel like itself

Those who tal<e their stand upon a Church are

410

STILL HOURS.

exposed to sudden and violent fluctuations, owing to
the many changes of outward circumstances : those
who take, their stand on Christianity hold on their
steadfast course.

How many really pious Christians, especially
among our more cultured people, get any real help
for their piety irom the dogmas of the Church ?

*
It is quite without foundation to say that what
dogmatism terms "the law," performs the same
offices for us at present, which in the locus de lege ct
evangelio were originally laid upon the lex. These
offices are performed by quite another law, the
present law of Christian morality.

*
Christianity proves itself to be an absolute religion,
in its not seeking to be a religion as such, a religion i
part. He who seeks to make it so, destroys its
character of absoluteness.

*
Whenever we consider evangelical dogma as un-
tenable, we can lay no great stress upon the differ-
ence of Churches in Christianity.

*
Christ is "the Lord " in the secular province no less
than in the ecclesiastical.

*
It is folly to miss seeing the sovereignty of Christ,
which lies visibly before our eyes in the world's

^■s|t.j

c^^^^sTiAmry outswe the cmKcii. ,„

In the history of Chn*stianity the blossoms of
Ch„st,a„ p,oty arc but separate and transient appear-
ances ; the course of historical development ,s not

constantly progressive »vo-k of the spirit of Christian
h.s ory directed toward the ever more perf c up
bu..dm, and spread of the Cristian n^ora, com'-"

*
If to the consciousness that we can find our
personal salvation nowhere but in Christ, ,s added

apart from H.m presents no way of safety whatever
•t .3 difficult to understand why, as so many se"I'
to .magme, the former consciousness should suffer

In proportion as our religious relations are looked
upon as morally conditioned, the idea of natbna?
and n, general of natural and material, conditiorof

m^ffii-aw::"- ■•" '"^ ^■'•■'^^- - ^o.. -

As regards all which is merely ecclesiastical in our
Chnstianity. I have perfect freedom of conscience for
my own convictions.

That a Christian people would present a poor

ti I

412

STILL I/OUA'S.

I''

I),, '

appearance with a piety set free from dogma, if its
political conditions were otherwise well ordered and
sound, cannot be admitted for a moment. Only the
Church as an institution, and consequently the
clerical profession, would suffer in such a nation.
^t'lc illce lacrymce !

I do not want Christianity preserved in vinegar and
sugar; I want it fresh from the tree. I want this
season's fruit, just as it grows in this year 1800 and

so much, on the living tree of universal Christian his-
tory.

The main point nowadays is to be pious in the
open air.

Only in our maturer years do we begin to realize
what a wealth of meaning lies in the so-called ele-
mentary truths of religion ; and what an indescribably
great thing it is to be really persuaded of them !
Ihen. too, we can understand how persons of out-
standing piety have been satisfied with these truths
alone.

He who can pray the Lord's Prayer in sincerity
must surely be a Christian.

Our aim at the present day should be, not to im-
prove our dogmas or Church doctrines, especially in
the treatment of dogmatic subjects ; but to liberate

Strange misconception that dogmatism must be at
any price the highest thing in theology !

If the Church can be maintained in existence on!v
by a reserved and secret course of action on tie P rt

iaid upon its frankness and sincerity, then we mav

'^^^^''f '''':' ^° '^'- '''^^^^^^y will not
fall with It, as It would in the case of dishonest pro

truth" ,:' ''' '''''''' ^^'^^•" ^^^- '-^ -^ o'nl .
truth and honesty come to no harm. '

*
He who, like myself, has already passed throuM,
rehg,ous experienees before becoming more int Latelv
acquamted with the dogmas which hie been oH^

a^perfectly mdependcnt position towards dogmas i'

My disposition is utterly averse to the cultivation
of religion />i(re/y as such.

occuov! T^ '"■gWy cultured people in the Church

trlditL f ^P°''"™ *--rds dogma and historical

rad,t on, as compared with the less highly cultured

th.s difference is to a large extent equalized by the'

lit

I' I

414

STILL HOURS.

MS^

|i J uJ

act that the latter are not precise in their acceptation
of dogma and tradition, and arc indeed quite incap-

able of being so,

Our anti-dogmatic and non-eccIesiastical Christians
think thus : Let us wait patiently in the meanwhile,
till the theologians, in the course of their special
science, have so far purified Christianity from its
statutory character that we shall be able once more
to reconcile ourselves to it.

Why will the State not allow the man to count as
a Christian, who expressly acknowledges himself as
such, without adhering to any special Christian
Church? This is the actual position of numberless
people in our own day.

To the pious Christian mind the spiteful and
jealous rivalry which exists among all Churches with-
out exception, although in very diverse degrees, must
render all Churches objectionable.

*
^ No one who trusts in God's forgiveness will place
his confidence in anything but His holy and merciful
love ; but it may very well happen that our dogmatic
formulae upon the subject, and our whole dogmatic
treatment of it, may be decidedly opposed to his pecu-
liar disposition.

I grant to no one the right to excommunicate me

C^^^rk I ela,ni only indulgent tolerance, and even
that IS not a claim of right.

towards Churches, dogmas, and the historical i„ Chris-
t.an,ty may yet. if he is a sensible man, easily pr.
ce,vo that the pecuhar religious and moral character
of Chns ,an,ty ,s indisputably historieal, and may
thus n. all sincerity believe in Christ.

*
Our " moral (practically moral) Christians " and our
b hevers,' „ho will not admit that the former are
Chnsfans ■ at all, are alike in this, that they are
equally unable to see that the former have received
whatever moral worth they possess from Christ and
only from Him.

*
In the present age the fate of Christianity is no

Cirhes°""' "' "■"'■ ''' ^^'= "' -"^-'- -"

He vvho imagines that the fortunes of Christianity
are bcmg defended nowadays by dogmatism, or in-
deed by theology as a whole, has fallen into a serious

Even in religion (piety) man doth not live on
home-baked bread of prose or dogmatics alone.

4i6

STILL HOURS.

Christianity is essentially anti-mythological ; but
not in Its ecclesiastical character.

*
All our ecclesiastical opponents, irreligious as they
may personally be. are so far right in their accusa-
tions because their indisputable rights of not bein^
forced to live in a Church to which they cannot in
smc'-rity belong, are always denied them by us. One
of the chief moral rights of the individual is to be
allowed to be honqst and truthful. As matters now
stand, cannot we with perfect freedom say to the
man who stands outside the Church : Have nothing
to say on ecclesiastical matters; for in the position
you have taken up respecting them they are no con-
cern of yours.

You first dress up Christianity in a coat which
turns ,t mto a caricature, and then you wonder in-
dignantly why people turn their backs and scoff at it.

*
If you have such a scorn for the Christianity of
so-called free-thinking people, what better thing have
you to oppose to them ?

As regards my demands from the Church of the
present, I do not take up my position in Church
history (the Reformation), but in universal Christian
history.

If the course which Christianity, that of the Lord

Jesus Christ, takes in the history of^tl^TZw

itse^?!tTh""'°" "'"" "^ ^'"''=" -""^t perforce ask
worl/ >v''T"' "'^ "'^ ^^''^""^'- 'he histo,y of 'he

«"hir:':rr°""^^°^^'>"----'--ch:-!

belferi„"'rl T f "^ '''' ''™ '■"""d-""" for his
behef ,„ Chnst. who founds it upon the historicd
nfluence of the Redeemer, and upon his oJpZfl
exper.ence, than he who founds it upon "God'sword ■
«. upon Holy Scripture ? i' ^°as word.

As long as those who orofoss f-„

fighting against God '" "'^ ^°"'''^^ ^^

case ilverdte err''"'" ''^'^'"^"^^' '^"^ ^'^^

a SDherl.^ f r " ''" ^'""^P^^t 't bodily into
a sphere so utterly forefcm to it a= fUnt- c

J --,-. u. It as tnat of our present

D D

it<

4i8

STILL ILOURS.

historical position. As regards Christian morals, this
IS almost universally acknowledged ; why not also as
regards Christian doctrine ?

The Lord Jesus Christ and His Christianity can
well bear to be contemplated again and again with
fresh eyes ; indeed they demand it, especially of every
new age, '

We have, thank God ! progressed thus far, that our
cultivated people who have fallen out with the Church
are able partially at least, to distinguish Christianity
from the Church, and do not any longer occupy a
position of indifference towards Christianity itself
Ihey have however, at the same time, become certain
tha the understanding of Christianity is not an affair
of learned and technical study, and that it is, con-
sequently, not a privilege of theologians, but that
they themselves know something of its nature, and
may thus fairly demand that in the treatment of
ecclesiastical matters they themselves shall have a
hand in the business, not the theologians alone.

One chief objection which, in the ordinary treat-
ment of Christianity, many people make to the
demand for faith in Christ is. that they cannot under-
s^and what practical and life-filUng task this faith,
iti Its own peculiar character, sets before humanity

CHRTSTIANTTY OUTSIDE THE CHURCH.

419

It is the lesser evil that too little should be spoken
of religion rather than too much.

Even as regards religious questions, deeds are
worth more than words.

There must be examples of the fact that a person
may be a believing Christian and at the same time
a thorough man.

What is good for the man, is always good for the
Christian.

Let no one hide his manhood behind his Chris-
tianity ! On the contrary, our duty is to let the
latter shine through the former.

Our duty is to set aside the so-called "Christian
religion," and to replace m its stead the Lord Tesus
Christ Himself

There are very few who can relish the pure, un-
adulterated water of life of Christian piety, 'por
most people it is not piquant enough.

Oh if we could only help to secure for Christ that
historical position in the consciousness of Christen-
dom in which alone His glory is comprehensible !

Christianity has actually ruled the world for

420

'^TILL HOURS.

heard of a philosophy that could rule the world ?

which the good conquers solely by its own power.
I protest against every one who seeks to make

It forms a part 'of true Christianity to make no
great ceremony about our being Christians.

the hght that lightens Christendom ; only in a very
mfenor degree from the lanterns lightL by the

Many see the light which illuminates the world
wthout seemg the sun from which it flows. Well for
h™ who sees the sun; but even the others ha e
puceless possession in the light.

* '
What a strange delusion it is that we dare n„t
bnng Christ to the light 1 Certainly not" we have
only a dogmatic effigy of Him !

CrTRISn.4JJIT^0UTSIDE THE CHURCH. 4.,

JJl^ot vis. '^^^^^^^^^^^'^^^^^^^

Tha distinction between the Pharisaical (which
does not mean anything specially bad) and Ch Hs^^an

an T I ''; T ''•^^'•"^^-" ^^^-: the Pharisees
and the Lord Jesus Christ.-that the latter sym

INDEX.

Absoluteness of God, The, 95. Coarseness, 194.

Absolutism, 349. Conscience, 175.

Affection and Temperament, Continuation of Life after

A t Death, 27 r.

Angels and Devils, 126. " Creation of the Human Spirit

Apostolic Age, The, 295. ' 136. ^

^"'36S. Creation of the World, in

Attitude towards Theology and Criticism, 369

the Church, 52. Culture, 360.

Authority, 340. ! Culture, Questions of, 357

Beliefin God's Providence, 25 1. ' Death, 260

n^"' T'l^'f «• ' Dignity, 261.

Biblical Deductions, 199. Dogma, 401.

Catholicism, 302. I Europe, 353.

Cathohcism and Protestantism, ' Existence of God, The, 91.

Catholicism and the State, 306. Faith in Christ, 223
Chnst. On, 199. ' Fanaticism, 320.

Christianity and the Church, | Folly, 194.

ru'^.^l- . ^ . I Formation of Parties, 147.

Christianity Outside the Churcli, ' France, 354.

r^u°^'^ rr,, ! Freedom, 178.

Church, The, 375, ^

Church Doctrine, 205. Germany, 350.

clTt TJ^' ^"' '95- Germany, North and South, 35,

Church and State, 331. Gifts of Mind, 171. ' ^^

Clergy, The, 393. | God, On, 91.

4*3

424

I^VDEX.

God and Christ, 216.
God and the World, 113.
Good and Evil, 189.
Good, Virtue, Duty, 239.
Great and Small, 173.

Happiness, 263.
Heathenism, 301.
History, 357.
Humility, 256.

Idea of the Logos, 201.

ImmutabilityofGod, The, TOO
independence, 258. \

Individual and Social Morality,
241. , •^'

Infinitude of God, The, 98.
Intercourse, 281.

Jesuitism, 194.
John, St., 296.
Judaism, 301.
Justification, 233.

Life Experiences, 45.
Life (Light), 144.
Literature, 368,
Love, 286.

Lutheran and Reformed
Churches, The, 313.

Man, On, 147.

Man and Animal, 150.

Man and Mankind, 147
Man and Woman, 289. '
Maturity, 267.
Memory, 168.
Mohammedanism, 302
Mysticism and Theosophy, 320.

Old Age, 267.

and Materialism,

j Pantheism
108.

Parties of the day. Relation to

the, 60.
Passion, 193.
I Paul, St., 296.
{ Pedagogy, 370.
j Personal, 45.
Personality, 159.

Personality of Christ, The, 207

, Personal Character of Jesus'

212. '

Personal Life of the Christian.

239.
Piety, 385.
Pietism, 318.

Pleasure-Seeking, 193.
Politics, On, 331.
Political Freedom, 345.
Popular Representation, 348
Position in Reference to the

Present, 57.
Prayer, 249.

Predestination, 232.

Preservation ofthe World, 121
Principles of Speculation, y^
Prince and People, 336.

Ranks ofthe Community, 344.
Rationalism, 321. ^

Reconciliation, 228.

Reformation, The, 307.
Reformation and the Church,

The, 130,
Republics, 349.
Revelation, 217.
Revolution, 350,

Jl^DEX,

Keward, 234.
Kussia, 354.

425

'Sacrament, The, 399.

'Sanctification, 233.
'Schleiermacher, 328.
'Science, 363.

•Self-criticism, 47.
Selfishness, 192.
Self-restraint, 257.

Separate Divine Attributes, ,02
Sm, 185. ' •

Sociability, 284.

Social Duties, 281

Social Life of 'the Christian ThP f' J!".'°" °'" ^'°'' ^"d Man, 24,
^^^_ nstian, The, Union of Man and God, 246

Social Sphere, The, 277
Soul and Ijody, 152.
Space and Time, 128
Speculation, Principles of, 7,

Speculation, Fundamental Prin
ciples of, 81.

Speculative System, 85

Speculation, The Task of, 7,
Spirit, 133. '^•

\ ^^trength and Weakness, 174

Substitution, 233.
I Suffering, 263.

I Supernaturalism, 323.

Supersensual World, The, 127.

Temptation, 184.

Theological and Secular Science
403.

Tolerance and Criticism, 66.

Unbelief, 228.

Union, 317.

Union of God and Man, -4 .

UnityofGod, The,93.

Vanity, 193.

Vocation of Jesus, The, 210.
, Vocation in Life, 254.

Will, The, 176.
Work, 255,
Worship, 395.

Worth of Life, The, 253.

Butler & Tanner, The SdwooJ I'ri

"ting Works, rr,..e. ana London.

E E