What Must We Do To Be Saved?
A close reading of the four gospels.

by Robert G. Ingersoll
(1880)

From The Works of Robert G. Ingersoll (Dresden Edition, 1900–1902), Volume 1.
Source: https://thegreatagnostic.com/works/what-must-we-do-to-be-saved/
Public domain. CC0 / Public Domain Mark 1.0.

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<section class="work-preface">

<span class="work-preface-kicker">Author's Front Matter</span>
<h2 class="work-preface-heading">Preface</h2>

If what is known as the Christian Religion is true, nothing can be more
wonderful than the fact that Matthew, Mark and Luke say nothing about
"salvation by faith;" that they do not even hint at the doctrine of
the atonement, and are as silent as empty tombs as to the necessity of
believing anything to secure happiness in this world or another.

For a good many years it has been claimed that the writers of these
gospels knew something about the teachings of Christ, and had, at least,
a general knowledge of the conditions of salvation. It now seems to
be substantiated that the early Christians did not place implicit
confidence in the gospels, and did not hesitate to make such changes and
additions as they thought proper. Such changes and additions are about
the only passages in the New Testament that the Evangelical Churches
now consider sacred. That portion of the last chapter of Mark, in which
unbelievers are so cheerfully and promptly damned, has been shown to be
an interpolation, and it is asserted that in the revised edition of the
New Testament, soon to be issued, the infamous passages will not appear.
With these expunged, there is not one word in Matthew, Mark, or Luke,
even tending to show that belief in Christ has, or can have, any effect
upon the destiny of the soul.

The four gospels are the four corner-stones upon which rests the fabric
of orthodox Christianity. Three of these stones have crumbled, and the
fourth is not likely to outlast this generation. The gospel of John
cannot alone uphold the infinite absurdity of vicarious virtue and vice,
and it cannot, without the aid of "interpolation," sustain the illogical
and immoral dogma of salvation by faith. These frightful doctrines must
be abandoned; the miraculous must be given up, the wonderful stories
must be expunged, and from the creed of noble deeds the forgeries
of superstition must be blotted out. From the temple of Morality
and Truth—from the great windows towards the sun—the parasitic and
poisonous vines of faith and fable must be torn.

The church will be compelled at last to rest its case, not upon the
wonders Christ is said to have performed, but upon the system of
morality he taught. All the miracles, including the resurrection and
ascension, are, when compared with portions of the "Sermon on the
Mount," but dust and darkness.

The careful reader of the New Testament will find three Christs
described:—One who wished to preserve Judaism—one who wished to
reform it, and one who built a system of his own. The apostles and their
disciples, utterly unable to comprehend a religion that did away with
sacrifices, churches, priests, and creeds, constructed a Christianity
for themselves, so that the orthodox churches of to-day rest—first,
upon what Christ endeavored to destroy—second, upon what he never said,
and, third, upon a misunderstanding of what he did say.

If a certain belief is necessary to insure the salvation of the soul,
the church ought to explain, and without any unnecessary delay, why such
an infinitely important fact was utterly ignored by Matthew, Mark
and Luke. There are only two explanations possible. Either belief is
unnecessary, or the writers of these three gospels did not understand
the Christian system. The "sacredness" of the subject cannot longer hide
the absurdity of the "scheme of salvation," nor the failure of Matthew,
Mark and Luke to mention, what is now claimed to have been, the entire
mission of Christ. The church must take from the New Testament the
supernatural'; the idea that an intellectual conviction can subject an
honest man to eternal pain—the awful doctrine that the innocent can
justly suffer for the guilty, and allow the remainder to be discussed,
denied or believed without punishment and without reward. No one will
object to the preaching of kindness, honesty and justice. To preach less
is a crime, and to practice more is impossible.

There is one thing that ought to be again impressed upon the average
theologian, and that is the utter futility of trying to answer arguments
with personal abuse. It should be understood once for all that these
questions are in no sense personal. If it should turn out that all the
professed Christians in the world are sinless saints, the question of
how Matthew, Mark, and Luke, came to say nothing about the atonement and
the scheme of salvation by faith, would still be asked. And if it should
then be shown that all the doubters, deists, and atheists, are vile and
vicious wretches, the question still would wait for a reply.

The origin of all religions, creeds, and sacred books, is substantially
the same, and the history of one, is, in the main, the history of all.
Thus far these religions have been the mistaken explanations of our
surroundings. The appearances of nature have imposed upon the ignorance
and fear of man. But back of all honest creeds was, and is, the desire
to know, to understand, and to explain, and that desire will, as I
most fervently hope and earnestly believe, be gratified at last by
the discovery of the truth. Until then, let us bear with the theories,
hopes, dreams, mistakes, and honest thoughts of all.

<p class="work-preface-sign">Robert G. Ingersoll<small>Washington, D.C. · October 1880</small></p>

</section>

What Must We Do to Be Saved

"THE NUREMBERG MAN WAS OPERATED BY A COMBINATION OF PIPES AND LEVERS,
AND THOUGH HE COULD BREATHE AND DIGEST PERFECTLY, AND EVEN REASON AS
WELL AS MOST THEOLOGIANS, WAS MADE OF NOTHING BUT WOOD AND LEATHER."

THE whole world has been filled with fear.

Ignorance has been the refuge of the soul. For thousands of years the
intellectual ocean was ravaged by the buccaneers of reason. Pious souls
clung to the shore and looked at the lighthouse. The seas were filled
with monsters and the islands with sirens. The people were driven in the
middle of a narrow road while priests went before, beating the hedges on
either side to frighten the robbers from their lairs. The poor followers
seeing no robbers, thanked their brave leaders with all their hearts.

I. What We Must Do to Be Saved

Huddled in folds they listened with wide eyes while the shepherds told
of ravening wolves. With great gladness they exchanged their fleeces for
security. Shorn and shivering, they had the happiness of seeing their
protectors comfortable and warm.

Through all the years, those who plowed divided with those who prayed.
Wicked industry supported pious idleness, the hut gave to the cathedral,
and frightened poverty gave even its rags to buy a robe for hypocrisy.

Fear is the dungeon of the mind, and superstition is a dagger with which
hypocrisy assassinates the soul. Courage is liberty. I am in favor of
absolute freedom of thought. In the realm of mind every one is monarch;
every one is robed, sceptered, and crowned, and every one wears the
purple of authority. I belong to the republic of intellectual liberty,
and only those are good citizens of that republic who depend upon reason
and upon persuasion, and only those are traitors who resort to brute
force.

Now, I beg of you all to forget just for a few moments that you are
Methodists or Baptists or Catholics or Presbyterians, and let us for an
hour or two remember only that we are men and women. And allow me to
say "man" and "woman" are the highest titles that can be bestowed upon
humanity.

Let us, if possible, banish all fear from the mind. Do not imagine that
there is some being in the infinite expanse who is not willing that
every man and woman should think for himself and herself. Do not imagine
that there is any being who would give to his children the holy torch of
reason, and then damn them for following that sacred light. Let us have
courage.

Priests have invented a crime called "blasphemy," and behind that
crime hypocrisy has crouched for thousands of years. There is but one
blasphemy, and that is injustice. There is but one worship, and that is
justice!

You need not fear the anger of a god that you cannot injure. Rather
fear to injure your fellow-men. Do not be afraid of a crime you can not
commit. Rather be afraid of the one that you may commit. The reason that
you cannot injure God is that the Infinite is conditionless. You cannot
increase or diminish the happiness of any being without changing that
being's condition. If God is conditionless, you can neither injure nor
benefit him.

Do not imagine for a moment that I think people who disagree with me
are bad people. I admit, and I cheerfully admit, that a very large
proportion of mankind, and a very large majority, a vast number are
reasonably honest. I believe that most Christians believe what they
teach; that most ministers are endeavoring to make this world better.
I do not pretend to be better than they are. It is an intellectual
question. It is a question, first, of intellectual liberty, and after
that, a question to be settled at the bar of human reason. I do not
pretend to be better than they are. Probably I am a good deal worse than
many of them, but that is not the question. The question is: Bad as
I am, have I the right to think? And I think I have for two reasons:
First, I cannot help it. And secondly, I like it. The whole question is
right at a point. If I have not a right to express my thoughts, who has?

"Oh," they say, "we will allow you to think, we will not burn you."

"All right; why won't you burn me?"

"Because we think a decent man will allow others to think and to express
his thought."

"Then the reason you do not persecute me for my thought is that you
believe it would be infamous in you?"

"Yes."

"And yet you worship a God who will, as you declare, punish me forever?"

Surely an infinite God ought to be as just as man. Surely no God can
have the right to punish his children for being honest. He should not
reward hypocrisy with heaven, and punish candor with eternal pain.

The next question then is: Can I commit a sin against God by thinking?
If God did not intend I should think, why did he give me a thinker? For
one, I am convinced, not only that I have the right to think, but that
it is my duty to express my honest thoughts. Whatever the gods may say
we must be true to ourselves.

We have got what they call the Christian system of religion, and
thousands of people wonder how I can be wicked enough to attack that
system.

There are many good things about it, and I shall never attack anything
that I believe to be good! I shall never fear to attack anything I
honestly believe to be wrong! We have what they call the Christian
religion, and I find, just in proportion that nations have been
religious, just in the proportion they have clung to the religion of
their founders, they have gone back to barbarism. I find that Spain,
Portugal, Italy, are the three worst nations in Europe. I find that the
nation nearest infidel is the most prosperous—France.

And so I say there can be no danger in the exercise of absolute
intellectual freedom. I find among ourselves the men who think are at
least as good as those who do not.

We have, I say, a Christian system, and that system is founded upon
what they are pleased to call the "New Testament." Who wrote the New
Testament? I do not know. Who does know? Nobody. We have found many
manuscripts containing portions of the New Testament. Some of these
manuscripts leave out five or six books—many of them. Others more;
others less. No two of these manuscripts agree. Nobody knows who wrote
these manuscripts. They are all written in Greek. The disciples of
Christ, so far as we know, knew only Hebrew. Nobody ever saw so far as
we know, one of the original Hebrew manuscripts.

Nobody ever saw anybody who had seen anybody who had heard of anybody
that had ever seen anybody that had ever seen one of the original Hebrew
manuscripts. No doubt the clergy of your city have told you these facts
thousands of times, and they will be obliged to me for having repeated
them once more. These manuscripts are written in what are called capital
Greek letters. They are called Uncial manuscripts, and the New Testament
was not divided into chapters and verses, even, until the year of grace
1551. In the original the manuscripts and gospels are signed by nobody.
The epistles are addressed to nobody; and they are signed by the same
person. All the addresses, all the pretended ear-marks showing to
whom they were written, and by whom they were written, are simply
interpolations, and everybody who has studied the subject knows it.

It is further admitted that even these manuscripts have not been
properly translated, and they have a syndicate now making a new
translation; and I suppose that I can not tell whether I really believe
the New Testament or not until I see that new translation.

You must remember, also, one other thing. Christ never wrote a solitary
word of the New Testament—not one word. There is an account that he
once stooped and wrote something in the sand, but that has not been
preserved. He never told anybody to write a word. He never said:
"Matthew, remember this. Mark, do not forget to put that down. Luke, be
sure that in your gospel you have this. John, do not forget it." Not one
word. And it has always seemed to me that a being coming from another
world, with a message of infinite importance to mankind, should at least
have verified that message by his own signature. Is it not wonderful
that not one word was written by Christ? Is it not strange that he
gave no orders to have his words preserved—words upon which hung the
salvation of a world?

Why was nothing written? I will tell you. In my judgment they expected
the end of the world in a few days. That generation was not to pass away
until the heavens should be rolled up as a scroll, and until the earth
should melt with fervent heat. That was their belief. They believed that
the world was to be destroyed, and that there was to be another coming,
and that the saints were then to govern the earth. And they even went so
far among the apostles, as we frequently do now before election, as to
divide out the offices in advance. This Testament, as it now is, was not
written for hundreds of years after the apostles were dust. Many of the
pretended facts lived in the open mouth of credulity. They were in the
wastebaskets of forgetfulness. They depended upon the inaccuracy of
legend, and for centuries these doctrines and stories were blown about
by the inconstant winds. And when reduced to writing, some gentleman
would write by the side of the passage his idea of it, and the next
copyist would put that in as a part of the text. And, when it was mostly
written, and the church got into trouble, and wanted a passage to help
it out, one was interpolated to order. So that now it is among
the easiest things in the world to pick out at least one hundred
interpolations in the Testament. And I will pick some of them out before
I get through.

And let me say here, once for all, that for the man Christ I have
infinite respect. Let me say, once for all, that the place where man has
died for man is holy ground. And let me say, once for all, that to that
great and serene man I gladly pay, I gladly pay, the tribute of my
admiration and my tears. He was a reformer in his day. He was an infidel
in his time. He was regarded as a blasphemer, and his life was destroyed
by hypocrites, who have, in all ages, done what they could to trample
freedom and manhood out of the human mind. Had I lived at that time I
would have been his friend, and should he come again he will not find a
better friend than I will be.

That is for the man. For the theological creation I have a different
feeling. If he was, in fact, God, he knew there was no such thing as
death. He knew that what we called death was but the eternal opening of
the golden gates of everlasting joy; and it took no heroism to face a
death that was eternal life.

But when a man, when a poor boy sixteen years of age, goes upon the
field of battle to keep his flag in heaven, not knowing but that death
ends all; not knowing but that when the shadows creep over him, the
darkness will be eternal, there is heroism. For the man who, in the
darkness, said: "My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"—for that man I
have nothing but respect, admiration, and love. Back of the theological
shreds, rags, and patches, hiding the real Christ, I see a genuine man.

A while ago I made up my mind to find out what was necessary for me to
do in order to be saved. If I have got a soul, I want it saved. I do not
wish to lose anything that is of value.

For thousands of years the world has been asking that question:

"What must we do to be saved?"

Saved from poverty? No. Saved from crime? No. Tyranny? No. But "What
must we do to be saved from the eternal wrath of the God who made us
all?"

If God made us, he will not destroy us. Infinite wisdom never made a
poor investment. Upon all the works of an infinite God, a dividend must
finally be declared. Why should God make failures? Why should he waste
material? Why should he not correct his mistakes, instead of damning
them? The pulpit has cast a shadow over even the cradle. The doctrine
of endless punishment has covered the cheeks of this world with tears. I
despise it, and I defy it.

I made up my mind, I say, to see what I had to do in order to save my
soul according to the Testament, and thereupon I read it. I read the
gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, and found that the church had
been deceiving me. I found that the clergy did not understand their own
book; that they had been building upon passages that had been
interpolated; upon passages that were entirely untrue, and I will tell
you why I think so.

II. The Gospel of Matthew

ACCORDING to the church, the first gospel was written by Matthew. As a
matter of fact he never wrote a word of it—never saw it, never heard of
it and probably never will. But for the purposes of this lecture I admit
that he wrote years; that he was his constant companion; that he shared
his sorrows and his triumphs; that he heard his words by the lonely
lakes, the barren hills, in synagogue and street, and that he knew his
heart and became acquainted with his thoughts and aims.

Now let us see what Matthew says we must do in order to be saved. And
I take it that, if this is true, Matthew is as good authority as any
minister in the world.

I will admit that he was with Christ for three years.

The first thing I find upon the subject of salvation is in the fifth
chapter of Matthew, and is embraced in what is commonly known as the
Sermon on the Mount. It is as follows:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
Good!

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." Good! Whether
they belonged to any church or not; whether they believed the Bible or
not?

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." Good!

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the
peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are
they which are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven." Good!

In the same sermon he says: "Think not that I am come to destroy the law
or the prophets. I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill." And then he
makes use of this remarkable language, almost as applicable to-day as
it was then: "For I say unto you that except your righteousness shall
exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees ye shall in no
wise enter into the kingdom of heaven." Good!

In the sixth chapter I find the following, and it comes directly after
the prayer known as the Lord's prayer:

"For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also
forgive you; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will
your father forgive your trespasses."

I accept the condition. There is an offer; I accept it. If you will
forgive men that trespass against you, God will forgive your trespasses
against him. I accept the terms, and I never will ask any God to treat
me better than I treat my fellow-men. There is a square promise. There
is a contract. If you will forgive others God will forgive you. And it
does not say you must believe in the Old Testament, or be baptized, or
join the church, or keep Sunday; that you must count beads, or pray, or
become a nun, or a priest; that you must preach sermons or hear them,
build churches or fill them. Not one word is said about eating or
fasting, denying or believing. It simply says, if you forgive others God
will forgive you; and it must of necessity be true. No god could afford
to damn a forgiving man. Suppose God should damn to everlasting fire a
man so great and good, that he, looking from the abyss of hell, would
forgive God,—how would a god feel then?

Now let me make myself plain upon one subject, perfectly plain. For
instance, I hate Presbyterianism, but I know hundreds of splendid
Presbyterians. Understand me. I hate Methodism, and yet I know hundreds
of splendid Methodists. I hate Catholicism, and like Catholics. I hate
insanity but not the insane.

I do not war against men. I do not war against persons. I war against
certain doctrines that I believe to be wrong. But I give to every other
human being every right that I claim for myself.

The next thing that I find is in the seventh chapter and the second
verse: "For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with
what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." Good! That
suits me!

And in the twelfth chapter of Matthew: "For whosoever shall do the will
of my Father that is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister and
mother. For the son of man shall come in the glory of his father with
his angels, and then he shall reward every man according.... To the
church he belongs to? No. To the manner in which he was baptized? No.
According to his creed? No. Then he shall reward every man according to
his works." Good! I subscribe to that doctrine.

And in the eighteenth chapter: "And Jesus called a little child to him
and stood him in the midst; and said, 'Verily I say unto you, except ye
be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into
the kingdom of heaven.'" I do not wonder that in his day, surrounded by
scribes and Pharisees, he turned lovingly to little children.

And yet, see what children the little children of God have been. What
an interesting dimpled darling John Calvin was. Think of that
prattling babe, Jonathan Edwards! Think of the infants that founded the
Inquisition, that invented instruments of torture to tear human flesh.
They were the ones who had become as little children. They were the
children of faith.

So I find in the nineteenth chapter: "And behold, one came and said unto
him: 'Good master, what good thing shall I do that I may have eternal
life?' And he said unto him, 'Why callest thou me good? There is none
good but one, that is God: but if thou wilt enter into life, keep the
commandments.' He saith unto him, 'which?'"

Now, there is a fair issue. Here is a child of God asking God what is
necessary for him to do in order to inherit eternal life. And God said
to him: Keep the commandments. And the child said to the Almighty:
"Which?" Now, if there ever has been an opportunity given to the
Almighty to furnish a man of an inquiring mind with the necessary
information upon that subject, here was the opportunity. "He said unto
him, which? And Jesus said: Thou shalt do no murder; thou shalt not
commit adultery; thou shalt not steal; thou shalt not bear false
witness; honor thy father and mother; and thou shalt love thy neighbor
as thyself."

He did not say to him: "You must believe in me—that I am the only
begotten son of the living God." He did not say: "You must be born
again." He did not say: "You must believe the Bible." He did not say:
"You must remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy." He simply said:
"Thou shalt do no murder. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Thou shalt
not steal. Thou shalt not bear false witness. Honor thy father and thy
mother; and thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." And thereupon the
young man, who I think was mistaken, said unto him: "All these things
have I kept from my youth up."

What right has the church to add conditions of salvation? Why should we
suppose that Christ failed to tell the young man all that was necessary
for him to do? Is it possible that he left out some important thing
simply to mislead? Will some minister tell us why he thinks that Christ
kept back the "scheme"?

Now comes an interpolation.

In the old times when the church got a little scarce of money, they
always put in a passage praising poverty. So they had this young man
ask: "What lack I yet? And Jesus said unto him: If thou wilt be perfect,
go and sell that thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have
treasure in heaven."

The church has always been willing to swap off treasures in heaven for
cash down. And when the next verse was written the church must have been
nearly bankrupt. "And again I say unto you, it is easier for a camel
to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into
the kingdom of God." Did you ever know a wealthy disciple to unload on
account of that verse?

And then comes another verse, which I believe is an interpolation: "And
everyone that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father,
or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall
receive an hundred fold, and shall inherit everlasting life."

Christ never said it. Never. "Whosoever shall forsake father and
mother."

Why, he said to this man that asked him, "What shall I do to inherit
eternal life?" among other things, he said: "Honor thy father and thy
mother." And we turn over the page and he says again: "If you will
desert your father and mother you shall have everlasting life." It will
not do. If you will desert your wife and your little children, or your
lands—the idea of putting a house and lot on equality with wife and
children! Think of that! I do not accept the terms. I will never desert
the one I love for the promise of any god.

It is far more important to love your wife than to love God, and I will
tell you why. You cannot help him, but you can help her. You can fill
her life with the perfume of perpetual joy. It is far more important
that you love your children than that you love Jesus Christ. And why?
If he is God you cannot help him, but you can plant a little flower of
happiness in every footstep of the child, from the cradle until you die
in that child's arms. Let me tell you to-day it is far more important
to build a home than to erect a church. The holiest temple beneath the
stars is a home that love has built. And the holiest altar in all the
wide world is the fireside around which gather father and mother and the
sweet babes.

There was a time when people believed the infamy commanded in this
frightful passage. There was a time when they did desert fathers and
mothers and wives and children. St. Augustine says to the devotee: Fly
to the desert, and though your wife put her arms around your neck, tear
her hands away; she is a temptation of the devil. Though your father and
mother throw their bodies athwart your threshold, step over them; and
though your children pursue, and with weeping' eyes beseech you to
return, listen not. It is the temptation of the evil one. Fly to the
desert and save your soul. Think of such a soul being worth saving.
While I live I propose to stand by the ones I love.

There is another condition of salvation. I find it in the twenty-fifth
chapter: "Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come,
ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world. For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat; I
was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in;
naked and ye clothed me; I was sick and ye visited me; I was in prison
and ye came unto me." Good!

I tell you to-night that God will not punish with eternal thirst the man
who has put the cup of cold water to the lips of his neighbor. God will
not leave in the eternal nakedness of pain the man who has clothed his
fellow-men.

For instance, here is a shipwreck, and here is some brave sailor who
stands aside and allows a woman whom he never saw before to take his
place in the boat, and he stands there, grand and serene as the wide
sea, and he goes down. Do you tell me that there is any God who will
push the lifeboat from the shore of eternal life, when that man wishes
to step in? Do you tell me that God can be unpitying to the pitiful,
that he can be unforgiving to the forgiving? I deny it; and from the
aspersions of the pulpit I seek to rescue the reputation of the Deity.

Now, I have read you substantially everything in Matthew on the subject
of salvation. That is all there is. Not one word about believing
anything. It is the gospel of deed, the gospel of charity, the gospel
of self-denial; and if only that gospel had been preached, persecution
never would have shed one drop of blood. Not one.

According to the testimony Matthew was well acquainted with Christ.
According to the testimony, he had been with him, and his companion for
years, and if it was necessary to believe anything in order to get to
heaven, Matthew should have told us. But he forgot it, or he did not
believe it, or he never heard of it. You can take your choice.

In Matthew, we find that heaven is promised, first, to the poor in
spirit. Second, to the merciful. Third, to the pure in heart. Fourth, to
the peacemakers. Fifth, to those who are persecuted for righteousness'
sake. Sixth, to those who keep and teach the commandments. Seventh, to
those who forgive men that trespass against them. Eighth, that we will
be judged as we judge others. Ninth, that they who receive prophets and
righteous men shall receive a prophet's reward. Tenth, to those who do
the will of God. Eleventh, that every man shall be rewarded according to
his works. Twelfth, to those who become as little children. Thirteenth,
to those who forgive the trespasses of others. Fourteenth, to the
perfect: they who sell all that they have and give to the poor.
Fifteenth, to them who forsake houses, and brethren, and sisters, and
father, and mother, and wife, and children, and lands for the sake of
Christ's name. Sixteenth, to those who feed the hungry, give drink to
the thirsty, shelter to the stranger, clothes to the naked, comfort to
the sick, and who visit the prisoner.

Nothing else is said with regard to salvation in the gospel according to
St. Matthew. Not one word about believing the Old Testament to have been
inspired; not one word about being baptized or joining a church; not
one word about believing in any miracle; not even a hint that it was
necessary to believe that Christ was the son of God, or that he did any
wonderful or miraculous things, or that he was born of a virgin, or that
his coming had been foretold by the Jewish prophets. Not one word
about believing in the Trinity, or in foreordination or predestination.
Matthew had not understood from Christ that any such things were
necessary to ensure the salvation of the soul.

According to the testimony, Matthew had been in the company of Christ,
some say three years and some say one, but at least he had been with him
long enough to find out some of his ideas upon this great subject. And
yet Matthew never got the impression that it was necessary to believe
something in order to get to heaven. He supposed that if a man forgave
others God would forgive him; he believed that God would show mercy
to the merciful; that he would not allow those who fed the hungry to
starve; that he would not put in the flames of hell those who had given
cold water to the thirsty; that he would not cast into the eternal
dungeon of his wrath those who had visited the imprisoned; and that he
would not damn men who forgave others.

Matthew had it in his mind that God would treat us very much as we
treated other people; and that in the next world he would treat with
kindness those who had been loving and gentle in their lives. It may be
the apostle was mistaken; but evidently that was his opinion.

III. The Gospel of Mark

LET us now see what Mark thought it necessary for a man to do to save his
soul. In the fourth chapter, after Jesus had given to the multitude by
the sea the parable of the sower, his disciples, when they were again
alone, asked him the meaning of the parable. Jesus replied:

"Unto you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God: but
unto them that are without, all these things are done in parables:

"That seeing, they may see, and not perceive; and hearing they may hear,
and not understand; lest at any time they should be converted, and their
sins should be forgiven them."

It is a little hard to understand why he should have preached to people
that he did not intend should know his meaning. Neither is it quite
clear why he objected to their being converted. This, I suppose, is one
of the mysteries that we should simply believe without endeavoring to
comprehend.

With the above exception, and one other that I will mention hereafter,
Mark substantially agrees with Matthew, and says that God will be
merciful to the merciful, that he will be kind to the kind, that he
will pity the pitying, and love the loving. Mark upholds the religion
of Matthew until we come to the fifteenth and sixteenth verses of
the sixteenth chapter, and then I strike an interpolation put in by
hypocrisy, put in by priests who longed to grasp with bloody hands
the sceptre of universal power. Let me read it to you. It is the most
infamous passage in the Bible. Christ never said it. No sensible man
ever said it.

"And He said unto them" (that is, unto his disciples), "go ye into all
the world and preach the gospel to every creature. He that believeth and
is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned."

That passage was written so that fear would give alms to hypocrisy. Now,
I propose to prove to you that this is an interpolation. In the first
place, not one word is said about belief, in Matthew. In the next place,
not one word about belief, in Mark, until I come to that verse, and where is that said to have been spoken? According to
Mark, it is a part of the last conversation of Jesus Christ,—just
before, according to the account, he ascended bodily before their eyes.
If there ever was any important thing happened in this world that was
it. If there is any conversation that people would be apt to recollect,
it would be the last conversation with a god before he rose visibly
through the air and seated himself upon the throne of the infinite. We
have in this Testament five accounts of the last conversation happening
between Jesus Christ and his apostles. Matthew gives it, and yet Matthew
does not state that in that conversation Christ said: "Whoso believeth
and is baptized shall be saved, and whoso believeth not shall be
damned." And if he did say those words they were the most important that
ever fell from lips. Matthew did not hear it, or did not believe it, or
forgot it.

Then I turn to Luke, and he gives an account of this same last
conversation, and not one word does he say upon that subject. Luke does
not pretend that Christ said that whoso believeth not shall be damned.
Luke certainly did not hear it. May be he forgot it. Perhaps he did not
think that it was worth recording. Now, it is the most important thing,
if Christ said it, that he ever said.

Then I turn to John, and he gives an account of the last conversation,
but not one solitary word on the subject of belief or unbelief. Not one
solitary word on the subject of damnation. Not one. John might not have
been listening.

Then I turn to the first chapter of the Acts, and there I find an
account of the last conversation; and in that conversation there is not
one word upon this subject. This is a demonstration that the passage in
Mark is an interpolation. What other reason have I got? There is not one
particle of sense in it. Why? No man can control his belief. You hear
evidence for and against, and the integrity of the soul stands at the
scales and tells which side rises and which side falls. You can not
believe as you wish. You must believe as you must. And he might as well
have said: "Go into the world and preach the gospel, and whosoever has
red hair shall be saved, and whosoever hath not shall be damned."

I have another reason. I am much obliged to the gentleman who
interpolated these passages. I am much obliged to him that he put in
some more—two more. Now hear:

"And these signs shall follow them that believe." Good!

"In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new
tongues; they shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing
it shall not hurt them. They shall lay hands on the sick and they shall
recover."

Bring on your believer! Let him cast out a devil. I do not ask for a
large one. Just a little one for a cent. Let him take up serpents. "And
if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them." Let me mix up a
dose for the believer, and if it does not hurt him I will join a church.
"Oh! but," they say, "those things only lasted through the Apostolic
age." Let us see. "Go into all the world and preach the gospel, and
whosoever believes and is baptized shall be saved, and these signs shall
follow them that believe."

How long? I think at least until they had gone into all the world.
Certainly those signs should follow until all the world had been
visited. And yet if that declaration was in the mouth of Christ, he then
knew that one-half of the world was unknown, and that he would be dead
fourteen hundred and fifty-nine years before his disciples would know
that there was another continent. And yet he said, "Go into all the
world and preach the gospel," and he knew then that it would be fourteen
hundred and fifty-nine years before anybody could go. Well, if it was
worth while to have signs follow believers in the Old World, surely it
was worth while to have signs follow believers in the New. And the very
reason that signs should follow would be to convince the unbeliever,
and there are as many unbelievers now as ever, and the signs are as
necessary to-day as they ever were. I would like a few myself.

This frightful declaration, "He that believeth and is baptized shall be
saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned," has filled the world
with agony and crime. Every letter of this passage has been sword and
fagot; every word has been dungeon and chain. That passage made the
sword of persecution drip with innocent blood through centuries of agony
and crime. That passage made the horizon of a thousand years lurid with
the fagot's flames. That passage contradicts the Sermon on the Mount;
travesties the Lord's prayer; turns the splendid religion of deed
and duty into the superstition of creed and cruelty. I deny it. It is
infamous! Christ never said it!

IV. The Gospel of Luke.

IT is sufficient to say that Luke agrees substantially with Matthew and
Mark.

"Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful." Good!

"Judge not and ye shall not be judged: condemn not and ye shall not be
condemned: forgive and ye shall be forgiven." Good!

"Give and it shall be given unto you: good measure, pressed down, and
shaken together, and running over." Good! I like it.

"For with the same measure that ye mete withal, it shall be measured to
you again."

He agrees substantially with Mark; he agrees substantially with Matthew;
and I come at last to the nineteenth chapter.

"And Zaccheus stood and said unto the Lord, 'Behold, Lord, the half of
my goods I give to the poor, and if I have taken anything from any man
by false accusation, I restore him four fold.' And Jesus said unto him,
'this day is salvation come to this house.'"

That is good doctrine. He did not ask Zaccheus what he believed. He did
not ask him, "Do you believe in the Bible? Do you believe in the five
points? Have you ever been baptized—sprinkled? Or immersed?" "Half of
my goods I give to the poor, and if I have taken anything from any man
by false accusation, I restore him four fold." "And Christ said, this
day is salvation come to this house." Good!

I read also in Luke that Christ when upon the cross forgave his
murderers, and that is considered the shining gem in the crown of his
mercy. He forgave his murderers. He forgave the men who drove the nails
in his hands, in his feet, that plunged a spear in his side; the soldier
that in the hour of death offered him in mockery the bitterness to
drink. He forgave them all freely, and yet, although he would forgive
them, he will in the nineteenth century, as we are told by the orthodox
church, damn to eternal fire a noble man for the expression of his
honest thoughts. That will not do. I find, too, in Luke, an account
of two thieves that were crucified at the same time. The other gospels
speak of them. One says they both railed upon him. Another says nothing
about it. In Luke we are told that one railed upon him, but one of the
thieves looked and pitied Christ, and Christ said to that thief:

"To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." Why did he say that? Because
the thief pitied him. God can not afford to trample beneath the feet
of his infinite wrath the smallest blossom of pity that ever shed its
perfume in the human heart!

Who was this thief? To what church did he belong? I do not know. The
fact that he was a thief throws no light on that question. Who was he?
What did he believe? I do not know. Did he believe in the Old Testament?
In the miracles? I do not know. Did he believe that Christ was God? I
do not know. Why then was the promise made to him that he should meet
Christ in Paradise? Simply because he pitied suffering innocence upon
the cross.

God can not afford to damn any man who is capable of pitying anybody.

V. The Gospel of John

AND now we come to John, and that is where the trouble commences.

The other gospels teach that God will be merciful to the merciful,
forgiving to the forgiving, kind to the kind, loving to the loving, just
to the just, merciful to the good.

Now we come to John, and here is another doctrine. And allow me to say
that John was not written until long after the others. John was mostly
written by the church.

"Jesus answered and said unto him: Verily, verily, I say unto thee,
Except a man be born again he can not see the kingdom of God."

Why did he not tell Matthew that? Why did he not tell Luke that? Why did
he not tell Mark that? They never heard of it, or forgot it, or they did
not believe it.

"Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he can not enter into
the kingdom of God." Why?

"That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of
the Spirit is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born
again." "That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is
born of the Spirit is spirit," and he might have added, that which is
born of water is water.

"Marvel not that I said unto thee, 'ye must be born again.'" And then
the reason is given, and I admit I did not understand it myself until I
read the reason, and when you hear the reason, you will understand it
as well as I do; and here it is: "The wind bloweth where it listeth, and
thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and
whither it goeth." So, I find in the book of John the idea of the Real
Presence.

"And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the
Son of man be lifted up; That whosoever believeth in him should not
perish, but have eternal life."

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.

"For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that
the world through him might be saved.

"He that believeth on him is not condemned; but he that believeth not is
condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only
begotten Son of God."

So I find in the book of John, that in order to be saved we must not
only believe in Jesus Christ, but we must eat the flesh and we must
drink the blood of Jesus Christ. If that gospel is true, the Catholic
Church is right. But it is not true. I can not believe it, and yet for
all that, it may be true. But I do not believe it. Neither do I
believe there is any god in the universe who will damn a man simply for
expressing his belief.

"Why," they say to me, "suppose all this should turn out to be true, and
you should come to the day of judgment and find all these things to be
true. What would you do then?" I would walk up like a man, and say, "I
was mistaken."

"And suppose God was about to pass judgment upon you, what would you
say?" I would say to him, "Do unto others as you would that others
should do unto you." Why not?

I am told that I must render good for evil. I am told that if smitten
on one cheek I must turn the other. I am told that I must overcome evil
with good. I am told that I must love my enemies; and will it do for
this God who tells me to love my enemies to damn his? No, it will not
do. It will not do.

In the book of John all these doctrines of regeneration—that it is
necessary to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ; that salvation depends
upon belief—in this book of John all these doctrines find their
warrant; nowhere else.

Read Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and then read John, and you will agree
with me that the three first gospels teach that if we are kind and
forgiving to our fellows, God will be kind and forgiving to us. In John
we are told that another man can be good for us, or bad for us, and that
the only way to get to heaven is to believe something that we know is
not so.

All these passages about believing in Christ, drinking his blood
and eating his flesh, are afterthoughts. They were written by the
theologians, and in a few years they will be considered unworthy of the
lips of Christ.

VI. The Catholics

NOW, upon these gospels that I have read the churches rest; and out of
these things, mistakes and interpolations, they have made their
creeds. And the first church to make a creed, so far as I know, was the
Catholic. It was the first church that had any power. That is the church
that has preserved all these miracles for us. That is the church that
preserved the manuscripts for us. That is the church whose word we have
to take. That church is the first witness that Protestantism brought to
the bar of history to prove miracles that took place eighteen hundred
years ago; and while the witness is there Protestantism takes pains to
say: "You cannot believe one word that witness says, now."

That church is the only one that keeps up a constant communication with
heaven through the instrumentality of a large number of decayed saints.
That church has an agent of God on earth, has a person who stands in
the place of deity; and that church is infallible. That church has
persecuted to the exact extent of her power—and always will. In Spain
that church stands erect, and is arrogant. In the United States that
church crawls; but the object in both countries is the same—and that is
the destruction of intellectual liberty. That church teaches us that we
can make God happy by being miserable ourselves; that a nun is holier in
the sight of God than a loving mother with her child in her thrilled and
thrilling arms; that a priest is better than a father; that celibacy is
better than that passion of love that has made everything of beauty in
this world. That church tells the girl of sixteen or eighteen years of
age, with eyes like dew and light; that girl with the red of health in
the white of her beautiful cheeks—tells that girl, "Put on the veil,
woven of death and night, kneel upon stones, and you will please God."

I tell every girl and woman that there is no profit in it. Let the Catholic Church alone. Marry the man you love. Have the children you desire. Make them happy, and let them grow up in the sunlight of your own love, not in the gloom of a cloister.

Thousands of volumes could not contain the crimes of the Catholic
Church. They could not contain even the names of her victims. With sword
and fire, with rack and chain, with dungeon and whip she endeavored to
convert the world. In weakness a beggar—in power a highwayman,—alms
dish or dagger—tramp or tyrant.

VII. The Episcopalians

THE next church I wish to speak of is the Episcopalian. That was
founded by Henry VIII., now in heaven. He cast off Queen Catherine and
Catholicism together, and he accepted Episcopalianism and Annie Boleyn
at the same time. That church, if it had a few more ceremonies, would be
Catholic. If it had a few less, nothing. We have an Episcopalian Church
in this country, and it has all the imperfections of a poor relation. It
is always boasting of its rich relative.

In this country the Episcopalians have done some good, and I want
to thank that church. Having on an average less religion than the
others—on an average you have done more good to mankind. You preserved
some of the humanities. You did not hate music; you did not absolutely
despise painting, and you did not altogether abhor architecture, and you
finally admitted that it was no worse to keep time with your feet than
with your hands. And some went so far as to say that people could play
cards, and that God would overlook it, or would look the other way. For
all these things accept my thanks.

The Episcopal creed is substantially like the Catholic, containing a few
additional absurdities. This church is utterly unsuited to a free people.

VIII. The Methodists

ABOUT a hundred and fifty years ago, two men, John Wesley and George
Whitfield, said, If everybody is going to hell, somebody ought to
mention it. The Episcopal clergy said: Keep still; do not tear your
gown. Wesley and Whitfield said: This frightful truth ought to be
proclaimed from the housetop of every opportunity, from the highway
of every occasion. They were good, honest men. They believed their
doctrine.

The church that they founded is still active. And probably no church in
the world has done so much preaching for as little money as the
Methodists.

There is one thing about the Methodist Church in the North that I like.
But I find that it is not Methodism that does that. I find that the
Methodist Church in the South is as much opposed to liberty as the
Methodist Church North is in favor of liberty. So it is not Methodism
that is in favor of liberty or slavery. They differ a little in their
creed from the rest. They do not believe that God does everything. They
believe that he does his part, and that you must do the rest, and that
getting to heaven is a partnership business.

IX. The Presbyterians

THE next church is the Presbyterian, and in my judgment the worst of
all, as far as creed is concerned. This church was founded by John
Calvin, a murderer!

John Calvin, having power in Geneva, inaugurated human torture. Voltaire
abolished torture in France. The man who abolished torture, if the
Christian religion be true, God is now torturing in hell, and the man
who inaugurated torture, is now a glorified angel in heaven. It will not
do.

John Knox started this doctrine in Scotland, and there is this
peculiarity about Presbyterianism—it grows best where the soil is
poorest.

That church teaches that infinite innocence was sacrificed for me! I do
not want it! I do not wish to go to heaven unless I can settle by the
books, and go there because I ought to go there. I have said, and I say
again, I do not wish to be a charity angel. I have no ambition to become
a winged pauper of the skies.

Heaven is where those are we love, and those who love us. And I wish to
go to no world unless I can be accompanied by those who love me here.

X. The Evangelical Alliance.

I HAVE not time to speak of the Baptists,—that Jeremy Taylor said
were as much to be rooted out as anything that is the greatest pest and
nuisance on the earth. He hated the Baptists because they represented,
in some little degree, the liberty of thought.

The Evangelical Alliance, made up of all orthodox denominations of the
world, met only a few years ago, and here is their creed: They believe
in the divine inspiration, authority and sufficiency of the holy
Scriptures; the right and duty of private judgment in the interpretation
of the holy Scriptures, but if you interpret wrong you are damned.
They believe in the unity of the godhead and the Trinity of the persons
therein. They believe in the utter depravity of human nature. There can
be no more infamous doctrine than that. They look upon a little child as
a lump of depravity. I look upon it as a bud of humanity, that will, in
the air and light of love and joy, blossom into rich and glorious life.

They believe in the eternal blessedness of the righteous, and in the
eternal punishment of the wicked.

Tidings of great joy! They are so good that they will not associate with
Universalists. They will not associate with Unitarians; they will not
associate with scientists; they will only associate with those who
believe that God so loved the world that he made up his mind to damn the
most of us.

The Evangelical Alliance reiterates the absurdities of the Dark
Ages—repeats the five points of Calvin—replenishes the fires of
hell—certifies to the mistakes and miracles of the Bible—maligns the
human race, and kneels to a god who accepted the agony of the innocent
as an atonement for the guilty.

XI. What Do You Propose?

THEN they say to me: "What do you propose? You have torn this down, what
do you propose to give us in place of it?"

I have not torn the good down. I have only endeavored to trample out the
ignorant, cruel fires of hell. I do not tear away the passage: "God will
be merciful to the merciful." I do not destroy the promise; "If you will
forgive others, God will forgive you." I would not for anything blot out
the faintest star that shines in the horizon of human despair, nor in
the sky of human hope; but I will do what I can to get that infinite
shadow out of the heart of man.

"What do you propose in place of this?"

Well, in the first place, I propose good fellowship—good friends all
around. No matter what we believe, shake hands and let it go. That is
your opinion; this is mine: let us be friends. Science makes friends;
religion, superstition, makes enemies. They say: Belief is important.
I say: No, actions are important. Judge by deed, not by creed.

I believe in the gospel of Cheerfulness, the gospel of Good Nature; the
gospel of Good Health. Let us pay some attention to our bodies. Take
care of our bodies, and our souls will take care of themselves.

I believe in the gospel of Good Living. You can not make any god happy
by fasting. Let us have good food, and let us have it well cooked.

I believe in the gospel of good clothes; I believe in the gospel of
good houses; in the gospel of water and soap. I believe in the gospel
of intelligence; in the gospel of education. The school-house is
my cathedral. The universe is my Bible. I believe in that gospel of
justice, that we must reap what we sow.

I do not believe in forgiveness as it is preached by the church. We do
not need the forgiveness of God, but of each other and of ourselves. If
I rob Mr. Smith and God forgives me, how does that help Smith? If I, by
slander, cover some poor girl with the leprosy of some imputed crime,
and she withers away like a blighted flower and afterward I get the
forgiveness of God, how does that help her? If there is another world,
we have got to settle with the people we have wronged in this. No
bankrupt court there. Every cent must be paid.

And I believe, too, in the gospel of Liberty, in giving to others what
we claim for ourselves. I believe there is room everywhere for thought,
and the more liberty you give away, the more you will have. In liberty
extravagance is economy. Let us be just. Let us be generous to each
other.

I believe in the gospel of Intelligence. That is the only lever capable
of raising mankind. Intelligence must be the savior of this world.
Humanity is the grand religion, and no God can put a man in hell in
another world, who has made a little heaven in this. God cannot make a
man miserable if that man has made somebody else happy. God cannot hate
anybody who is capable of loving anybody. Humanity—that word embraces
all there is.

So I believe in this great gospel of Humanity.

"Oh," but they say to me, "you take away immortality." I do not. If we
are immortal it is a fact in nature, and we are not indebted to priests
for it, nor to bibles for it, and it cannot be destroyed by unbelief.

As long as we love we will hope to live, and when the one dies that we
love we will say: "Oh, that we could meet again," and whether we do or
not it will not be the work of theology. It will be a fact in nature. I
would not for my life destroy one star of human hope, but I want it
so that when a poor woman rocks the cradle and sings a lullaby to the
dimpled darling, she will not be compelled to believe that ninety-nine
chances in a hundred she is raising kindling wood for hell.

One world at a time is my doctrine.

It is said in this Testament, "Sufficient unto the day is the evil
thereof;" and I say: Sufficient unto each world is the evil thereof.

And suppose after all that death does end all. Next to eternal joy, next
to being forever with those we love and those who have loved us, next to
that, is to be wrapt in the dreamless drapery of eternal peace. Next to
eternal life is eternal sleep. Upon the shadowy shore of death the
sea of trouble casts no wave. Eyes that have been curtained by the
everlasting dark, will never know again the burning touch of tears. Lips
touched by eternal silence will never speak again the broken words of
grief. Hearts of dust do not break. The dead do not weep. Within the
tomb no veiled and weeping sorrow sits, and in the ray-less gloom is
crouched no shuddering fear.

I had rather think of those I have loved, and lost, as having returned
to earth, as having become a part of the elemental wealth of the
world—I would rather think of them as unconscious dust, I would rather
dream of them as gurgling in the streams, floating in the clouds,
bursting in the foam of light upon the shores of worlds, I would rather
think of them as the lost visions of a forgotten night, than to have
even the faintest fear that their naked souls have been clutched by an
orthodox god. I will leave my dead where nature leaves them. Whatever
flower of hope springs up in my heart I will cherish, I will give it
breath of sighs and rain of tears. But I can not believe that there
is any being in this universe who has created a human soul for eternal
pain. I would rather that every god would destroy himself; I
would rather that we all should go to eternal chaos, to black and
starless night, than that just one soul should suffer eternal agony.

I have made up my mind that if there is a God, he will be merciful to
the merciful.

Upon that rock I stand.—

That he will not torture the forgiving.—

Upon that rock I stand.—

That every man should be true to himself, and that there is no world, no
star, in which honesty is a crime.

Upon that rock I stand.

The honest man, the good woman, the happy child, have nothing to fear,
either in this world or the world to come.

Upon that rock I stand.
