Ye
have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine
enemy: But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good
to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and
persecute you.
As
God Almighty foresaw the irregularities and disorders, both natural and moral,
which would happen in this state of things, he hath graciously made some
provision against them, by giving us several passions and affections, which
arise from, or whose objects are, those disorders. Of this sort are fear,
resentment, compassion, and others; of which there could be no occasion or use
in a perfect state: but in the present we should be exposed to greater
inconveniences without them; though there are very considerable ones, which they
themselves are the occasions of. They are incumbrances indeed, but such as we
are obliged to carry about with us, through this various journey of life: some
of them as a guard against the violent assaults of others; and in our own
defence; some, in behalf of others; and all of them to put us upon, and help to
carry us through a course of behaviour suitable to our condition, in default of
that perfection of wisdom and virtue, which would be in all respects our better
security.
The
passion of anger or resentment hath already been largely treated of. It hath
been shown, that mankind naturally feel some emotion of mind against injury and
injustice, whoever are the sufferers by it, and even though the injurious design
be prevented from taking effect. Let this be called anger, indignation,
resentment, or by whatever name anyone shall choose, the thing itself is
understood, and is plainly natural. It has likewise been observed, that this
natural indignation is generally moderate and low enough in mankind, in each
particular man, when the injury which excites it doth not affect himself, or one
whom he considers as himself. Therefore the precepts to forgive, and to
love our enemies, do not relate to that general indignation against
injury and the authors of it, but to this feeling, or resentment, when raised by
private or personal injury. But no man could be thought in earnest who should
assert, that though indignation against injury, when others are the sufferers,
is innocent and just, yet the same indignation against it, when we ourselves are
the sufferers, becomes faulty and blameable. These precepts therefore cannot be
understood to forbid this in the latter case, more than in the former. Nay, they
cannot be understood to forbid this feeling in the latter case, though raised to
a higher degree than in the former; because, as was also observed further, from
the very constitution of our nature, we cannot but have a greater sensibility to
what concerns ourselves. Therefore the precepts in the text, and others of the
like import with them, must be understood to forbid only the excess and abuse of
this natural feeling, in cases of personal and private injury: the chief
instances of which excess and abuse have likewise been already remarked, and all
of them, excepting that of retaliation, do so plainly in the very terms express
somewhat unreasonable, disproportionate, and absurd, as to admit of no pretence
or shadow of justification.
But,
since custom and false honor are on the side of retaliation and revenge, when
the resentment is natural and just; and reasons are sometimes offered in
justification of revenge in these cases; and since love of our enemies is
thought too hard a saying to be obeyed; I will show the absolute
unlawfulness of the former; the obligations we are under to the latter; and
then proceed to some reflections, which may have a more direct and immediate
tendency to beget in us a right temper of mind towards those who have offended
us.
In
showing the unlawfulness of revenge, it is not my present design to examine what
is alleged in favor of it, from the tyranny of custom and false honor, but only
to consider the nature and reason of the thing itself; which ought to have
prevented, and ought now to extirpate every thing of that
kind.
First,
Let us begin with the supposition of that being innocent which is pleaded for,
and which shall be shown to be altogether vicious, the supposition that we were
allowed to render evil for evil, and see what would be the consequence.
Malice or resentment towards any man hath plainly a tendency to beget the same
passion in him who is the object of it, and this again increases it in the
other. It is of the very nature of this vice to propagate itself, not only by
way of example, which it does in common with other vices, but in peculiar way of
its own; for resentment itself, as well as what is done in consequence of it, is
the object of resentment. Hence it comes to pass, that the first offence, even
when so slight as presently to be dropt and forgotten, becomes the occasion of
entering into a long intercourse of ill offices. Neither is at all uncommon to
see persons, in this progress of strife and variance, change parts; and him, who
was at first the injured person, become more injurious and blameable than the
aggressor. Put the case, then, that the law of retaliation was universally
received and allowed, as an innocent rule of life, by all; and the observance of
it thought by many, (and then it would soon come to be thought by all) a point
of honor: this supposes every man in private cases to pass sentence in his own
cause; and likewise, that anger or resentment is to be the judge. Thus, from the
numberless partialities which we all have for ourselves, every one would often
think himself injured when he was not, and in most cases would represent an
injury as much greater than it really is; the imagined dignity of the person
offended would scarce ever fail to magnify the offence. And, if bare
retaliation, or returning just the mischief received, always begets resentment
in the person upon whom we retaliate, what would that excess do? Add to this,
that he likewise has his partialities. There is no going on to represent this
scene of rage and madness: it is manifest there would be no bounds, nor any end.
"If the beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water," what would it
come to when allowed this free and unrestrained course? "As coals are to burning
coals, or wood to fire," so would these "contentious men be to kindle strife."
And, since the indulgence of revenge hath manifestly this tendency, and does
actually produce these effects in proportion as it is allowed; a passion of so
dangerous a nature ought not to be indulged, were there no other reason against
it.
Secondly,
It hath been shown that the passion of resentment was placed in man, upon
supposition of, and as a prevention or remedy to, irregularity and disorder.
Now, whether it be allowed or not, that the passion itself, and the
gratification of it, joined together, are painful to the malicious person; it
must however be so with respect to the person towards whom it is exercised, and
upon whom the revenge is taken. Now, if we consider mankind, according to that
fine allusion of St Paul, "as one body, and everyone members one of another," it
must be allowed that resentment is, with respect to society, a painful remedy.
Thus, then, the very notion or idea of this passion, as a remedy or prevention
of evil, and as in itself a painful means, plainly shows that
it
ought
never to be made use of, but only in order to produce some greater
good.
It
is to be observed, that this argument is not founded upon an illusion or simile,
but that it is drawn from the very nature of the passion itself, and the end for
which it was given us. We are obliged to make use of words taken from sensible
things, to explain what is the most remote from them: and everyone sees from
whence the words, prevention and remedy, are taken. But, if you please, let
these words be dropped: the thing itself, I suppose, may be expressed without
them.
That
mankind is a community, that we all stand in a relation to each other, that
there is a public end and interest of society which each particular is obliged
to promote, is the sum of morals. Consider then the passion of resentment, as
given to this one body, as given to society. Nothing can be more manifest, than
that resentment is to be considered as a secondary passion, placed in us upon
supposition, upon account of, and with regard to injury; not, to be sure, to
promote and further it, but to render it, and the inconveniences and miseries
arising from it, less and fewer than they would be without this passion. It is
as manifest, that the indulgence of it is, with regard to society, a painful
means of obtaining these ends. Considered in itself, it is very
undesirable,
and
what society must very much wish to be without. It is in every instance
absolutely an evil in itself; because it implies producing misery; and,
consequently, must never be indulged or gratified for itself, by any one who
considers mankind as a community or family, and himself as a member of
it.
Let
us now take this in another view. Every natural appetite, passion, and
affection, may be gratified in particular instances, without being subservient
to the particular chief end, for which these several principles were
respectively implanted in our nature. And if neither this end, nor any other
moral obligation, be contradicted, such gratification is innocent. Thus, I
suppose, there are cases in which each of these principles, this one of
resentment excepted, may innocently be gratified, without being subservient to
what is the main end of it: that is, though it does not conduce to, yet it may
be gratified without contradicting that end, or any other obligation. But the
gratification of resentment, if it be not conducive to the end for which it was
given us, must necessarily contradict, not only the general obligation to
benevolence, but likewise that particular end itself. The end for which it was
given is, to prevent or remedy injury; i. e. the misery occasioned by
injury; i. e. misery itself: and the gratification of it consists in
producing misery; i. e. in contradicting the end for which it was
implanted in our nature.
This
whole reasoning is built upon the difference there is between this passion and
all others. No other principle, or passion, hath for its end the misery of our
fellow creatures. But malice and revenge meditates evil itself; and to do
mischief, to be the author of misery, is the very thing which gratifies the
passion: this is what it directly tends towards, as its proper design. Other
vices eventually do mischief; this alone aims at it as an
end.
Nothing
can with reason be urged in justification of revenge, from the good effects
which the indulgence of it were before mentioned (1) to have upon the affairs of the world; because, though it be a remarkable
instance of the wisdom of Providence, to bring good out of evil, yet vice is
vice to him who is guilty of it. " But suppose these good effects are foreseen;"
that is, suppose reason in a particular case leads a man the same way as
passion; why then, to be sure, he should follow his reason in this as well as in
all other cases. So that, turn the matter which way ever you will, no more can
be allowed to this passion, than hath been already (2) .
As
to that love of our enemies which is commanded; this supposes the general
obligation to benevolence or good will towards mankind: and this being supposed,
that precept is no more than to forgive injuries ; that is, to keep clear of
those abuses before mentioned; because, that we have the habitual temper of
benevolence, is taken for granted.
Resentment
is not inconsistent with good will; for we often see both together in very high
degrees, not only in parents towards their children, but in cases of friendship
and dependence, where there is no natural relation. These contrary passions,
though they may lessen, do not necessarily destroy each other. We may therefore
love our enemy, and yet have resentment against him for his injurious behaviour
towards us. But when this resentment entirely destroys our natural benevolence
towards him, it is excessive, and becomes malice or revenge. The command to
prevent its having this effect, i. e. to forgive injuries, is the same as
to love our enemies; because that love is always supposed, unless destroyed by
resentment.
"But
though mankind is the natural object of benevolence, yet may it not be lessened
upon vice, i. e. injury?" Allowed: but if every degree of vice or injury
must destroy that benevolence, then no man is the object of our love; for no man
is without faults.
"But
if lower instances of injury may lessen our benevolence, why may not higher, or
the highest, destroy it ?" The answer is obvious. It is not man's being a social
creature, much less his being a moral agent, from whence alone our obligations
to good will towards him arise. There is an obligation to it prior to either of
these, arising from his being a sensible creature; that is, capable of happiness
or misery. Now this obligation cannot be superseded by his moral character. What
justifies public execution is, not that the guilt or demerit of the criminal
dispenses with the obligation of good will; neither would this justify any
severity; but, that his life is inconsistent with the quiet and happiness of the
world: that is, a general and more enlarged obligation necessarily destroys a
particular and more confined one of the same kind, inconsistent with it. Guilt
or injury then does not dispense with or supersede the duty of love and good
will; neither would this justify any severity; but that his life is inconsistent
with the quiet and happiness of the world: that is, a general and more enlarged
obligation necessarily destroys a particular and more confined one of the same
kind, inconsistent with it. Guilt
or injury then does not dispense with or supersede the duty of love and good
will.
Neither
does that peculiar regard to ourselves, which was before allowed to be natural
(3)
to mankind, dispense with it: because that can no way innocently heighten our
resentment against those who have been injurious to ourselves in particular, any
otherwise than as it heightens our sense of the injury or guilt.; and guilt,
though in the highest degree, does not, as hath been shown, dispense with or
supersede the duty of love and good will.
If
all this be true, what can a man say, who will dispute the reasonableness, or
the possibility, of obeying the divine precept we are now considering? Let him
speak out, and it must be thus he will speak. "Mankind, i. e. a creature
defective and faulty, is the proper object of good will, whatever his faults
are, when they respect others; but not when they respect me myself." That men
should be affected in this manner, and act accordingly, is to be
accounted for like other vices; but to assert, that it ought, and
must be thus, is self-partiality possessed of the very
understanding.
Thus,
love to our enemies, and those who have been injurious to us, is so far from
being a rant, as it has been profanely called, that it is in truth the
law of our nature, and what everyone must see and own, who is not quite blinded
with self-love.
From
hence it is easy to see, what is the degree in which we are commanded to love
our enemies, or those who have been injurious to us. It were well if it could as
easily be reduced to practice. It cannot be imagined, that we are required to
love them with any peculiar kind of affection. But suppose the person injured to
have a due natural sense of the injury, and no more; he ought to be affected
towards the injurious person in the same way any good men, uninterested in the
case, would be; if they had the same just sense, which we have supposed the
injured person to have, of the fault: after which there will yet remain real
good will towards the offender.
Now,
what is there in all this, which should be thought impracticable? I am sure
there is nothing in it unreasonable. It is indeed no more than that we should
not indulge a passion, which, if generally indulged, would propagate itself so
as almost to lay waste the world: that we should suppress that partial, that
false self-love, which is the weakness of our nature: that uneasiness and misery
should not be produced, without any good purpose to be served by it: and that we
should not be affected towards persons differently from what their nature and
character require.
But
since to be convinced, that any temper of mind, and course of behaviour, is our
duty, and the contrary vicious, hath but a distant influence upon our temper and
actions; let me add some few reflections, which may have a more direct tendency
to subdue those vices in the heart, to beget in us this right temper, and lead
us to a right behaviour towards those who have offended us: which reflections,
however, shall be such as will further show the obligations we are under to
it.
No
one, I suppose, would choose to have an indignity put upon him, or be
injuriously treated. If, then,
there be any probability of a misunderstanding in the case, either from our
imagining we are injured when we are not, or representing the injury to
ourselves as greater than it really is; one would hope an intimation of this
sort might be kindly received, and that people would be glad to find the injury
not so great as they imagined. Therefore, without knowing particulars, I take
upon me to assure all persons who think they have received indignities or
injurious treatment, that they may depend upon it, as in a manner certain, that
the offence is not so great as they themselves imagine. We are in such a
peculiar situation, with respect to injuries done to ourselves, that we can
scarce any more see them as they really are, than our eye can see itself. If we
could place ourselves at a due distance, i. e. be really unprejudiced, we
should frequently discern that to be in reality inadvertence and mistake in our
enemy, which we now fancy we see to be malice or scorn. From this proper point
of view we should likewise, in all probability, see something of these latter in
ourselves, and most certainly a great deal of the former. Thus, the indignity or
injury would almost infinitely lessen, and perhaps at last come out to be
nothing at all. Self-love is a medium of a peculiar kind: in these cases it
magnifies every thing which is amiss in others, at the same time that it lessens
every thing amiss in ourselves.
Anger
also, or hatred, may be considered as another false medium of viewing things,
which always represents characters and actions much worse than they really are.
Ill-will not only never speaks, but never thinks well, of the person towards
whom it is exercised. Thus, in cases of offence and enmity, the whole character
and behaviour is considered with an eye to that particular part which has
offended us, and the whole man appears monstrous, without any thing right or
human in him: whereas the resentment should surely, at least, be confined to
that particular part of the behaviour which gave offence, since the other parts
of a man's life and character stand just the same as they did
before.
In
general, there are very few instances of enmity carried to any length, but
inadvertency, misunderstanding, some real mistake of the case, on one side
however, if not on both, has a great share in it.
If
these things were attended to, these ill humors could not be carried to any
length amongst good men, and they would be exceedingly abated amongst all. And
only would hope they might be attended to: for all that, these cautions come to
is really no more than desiring, that things may be considered and judged of as
they are in themselves, that we should have an eye to, and beware of, what would
otherwise lead us into mistakes. So that to make allowances for inadvertence,
misunderstanding, for the partialities of self-love, and the false light which
danger sets things in; I say, to make allowances for these, is not to be spoken
of as an instance of humbleness of mind, or meekness and moderation of temper,
but as what common sense should suggest, to avoid judging wrong of a matter
before us, though virtue and morals were out of the case. And therefore it as
much belongs to ill men, who will indulge the vice I have been arguing against,
as to good men, who endeavor to subdue it in themselves. In a word, all these cautions concerning
anger and self-love, are no more than desiring a man, who was looking through a
glass which either magnified or lessened, to take notice, that the objects are
not in themselves what they appear through that medium.
To
all these things one might add, that resentment being out of the case, there is
not, properly speaking, any such thing as direct ill-will in one man towards
another. Therefore the first
indignity or injury, if it be not owing to inadvertence or misunderstanding, may
however be resolved into other particular passions, or self-love: principles
quite distinct from ill-will, and which we ought all to be disposed to excuse in
others, from experiencing so much of them in ourselves. A great man of antiquity
is reported to have said, that as he never was indulgent to anyone fault in
himself, he could not excuse those of others. This sentence could scarce with
decency come out of the mouth of any human creature. But if we invert the former
part, and put it thus: that he was indulgent to many faults in himself, as it is
to be feared the best of us are, and yet was implacable; how monstrous would
such an assertion appear? And this is the case in respect to every human
creature, in proportion as he is without the forgiving spirit I have been
recommending.
Further,
Though injury, injustice and oppression, the baseness of ingratitude, are the
natural objects of indignation, or, if you please, of resentment, as before
explained; yet they are likewise the objects of compassion, as they are their
own punishment, and without repentance will for ever be so. No one ever did a
designed injury to another, but at the same time he did a much greater to
himself. If therefore we would consider things justly, such a one is, according
to the natural course of affections, an object of compassion, as well as of
displeasure: and to be affected really in this manner, I say really, in
opposition to show and pretence, argues the true greatness of mind. We have an
example of forgiveness in this way in its utmost perfection, and which indeed
includes in it all that is good, in that prayer of our blessed Saviour on the
cross: " Father, forgive them; for they know not what they
do!"
But,
lastly, The offences which we are all guilty of against God, and the
injuries which men do to each other, are often mentioned together: and, making
allowances ; for the infinite distance between the Majesty of heaven and a frail
mortal, and likewise for this, that he cannot possibly be affected or moved as
we are; offences committed by others against ourselves, and the manner in which
we are apt to be affected with them, give a real occasion for calling to mind
our own sins against God. Now, there is an apprehension and presentiment natural
to mankind, that we ourselves shall one time or other be dealt with, as we deal
with others; and a peculiar acquiescence in, and feeling of the equity and
justice of this equal distribution. This natural notion of equity the son of
Sirach has put in the strongest way; "He that revengeth shall find vengeance
from the Lord, and he will surely keep his sins in remembrance. Forgive thy
neighbor the hurt he hath done unto thee, so shall thy sins also be forgiven
when thou prayest. One man beareth hatred against another; and doth he seek
pardon from the Lord? He showeth no mercy to a man which is like himself; and
doth he ask forgiveness of his own sins? (4) Let anyone read our Saviour's parable of
"the king who took account of his servants; (5)"
and the equity and rightness of the sentence which was passed upon him who was
unmerciful to his fellow servant, will be felt. There is somewhat in human
nature, which accords to, and falls in with that method of determination. Let us
then place before our eyes the time which is represented in the parable; that of
our own death, or the final judgment. Suppose yourselves under the apprehensions
of approaching death; that you were just going to appear naked and without
disguise before the judge of all the earth, to give an account of your behaviour
towards your fellow creatures: could any thing raise more dreadful apprehensions
of that judgment, than the reflection, that you had been implacable, and without
mercy towards those who had offended you; without that forgiving spirit towards
others, which, that it may now be exercised towards yourselves, is your only
hope? And these natural apprehensions are authorized by our Saviour's
application of the parable; "So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto
you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses."
On the other hand, suppose a good man in the same circumstance, in the last part
and close of life, conscious of many frailties, as the best are, but conscious
too that he had been meek, forgiving, and merciful; that he had in simplicity of
heart been ready to pass over offences against himself; - the having felt this
good spirit will give him, not only a full view of the amiableness of it, but
the surest hope that he shall meet with it in his Judge. This likewise is
confirmed by his own declaration: "If ye forgive men their trespasses, your
heavenly Father will likewise forgive you." And that we might have a constant
sense of it upon our mind, the condition is expressed in our daily prayer. A
forgiving spirit is therefore absolutely necessary, as ever we hope for pardon
of out own sins, as ever we hope for peace of mind in our dying moments, or for
the divine mercy at that day when we shall most stand in need of
it.
1 Sermon. viii. p.
119.
2 Sermon viii. p. 119.
3 Sermon viii. p. 139.
4 Eccles. xxviii.
1-4.
5 Matt.
xviii.