Chapter 10
CHAPTER IX. HIS VIEW OF CHRIST. What did Mr. Ingersoll think of Christ? That he was simply a man, not God incarnate, as Christians express it. He was not, could not have been, miraculously conceived. He was the son, the firstborn, of Jewish parents, naturally begotten. He learned and followed his father's trade and lived in the home with the rest of the family. We know nothing of
his boyhood aside from apocryphal tales told of wonders he wrought for the amusement and amazement of his playmates and the gospel story of confounding the doctors in the temple by his precocious wisdom. His mother, as a woman and the wife of Joseph, must have believed in her heart that Christ was the child of their union and not the offspring of Jehovah. Once, when they feared the boy was lost, she said on finding him, quote,
Thy father and I, thy parents, have sought thee, sorrowing. End quote. The writer of Matthew's gospel believed, with other Jews, that the Christ of prophecy and of their hopes was to be an earthly king who should sit on the throne of his father David. He, therefore, traces the ancestry of Joseph, as was supposed, not of Mary, to show that the blood of David was in Joseph's veins. Christ was a human being, could have been none other. The claim
of divinity was not made for him by the early church until years after his death, for the epistles and gospels were not known or accepted as authority until at least a century and a half later. In his reviews of the four gospels, Mr. Ingersoll shows that there was not agreement. This wand of harmony was apparent, more perhaps in the omission of important events and doctrines than in the interpolations and errors of translation. He points out especially that the most vital
message of all, the atonement, is not definitely set forth by either of the three evangelists. Only John tells us that we must quote, believe, and be quote, born again, in order to be saved. The other three had not heard of it, or did not regard salvation by faith as an essential teaching of their master, else they would, all of them, have said so. Instead, they exalted and emphasized the moral precepts, the practice of goodness, mercy, purity of heart, forgiveness,
and charity, the doctrines preached by Christ in his Sermon on the Mount. This sermon was to be for his hearers, their guide and chart through life, and the key to open for them the portals of heaven. Of course, he discarded all myths, miracles, legends, and false records of the words said to have been spoken and deeds said to have been done by Christ. He regarded these as the source and cause of the beliefs of his misguided and deluded,
even though sincere and devout followers. He could understand and account for their credulity and their reverential homage, and did not wonder at it. Did not they see this kinsman of theirs, their neighbor and countryman, going about doing good? Was he not healing the sick, causing their lame to leap, their sightless to see, their silent lips to utter speech, their closed ears to hear melodious sounds, and marvel of marvels, their dead
to be raised from cold obstruction to warm and throbbing life, and all for them? Could they be other than grateful for his kindness, his sympathy, and compassion? They looked upon him as a wise and powerful friend who took their part against rich and heartless oppressors and were overwhelmed with pity and anguish at his cruel and pathetic death, and for their sakes, no wonder that they worshipped him. The early church, growing in numbers
and power, taking advantage of this loving adoration, added the forces of mystery and command to complete its mastery of souls. Thus did Christianity as a system begin, and thus for centuries did it continue to be like all other religions since the world has been. We have found many Christs in many races, many lands. We have seen many systems of religion appear and disappear, arrive, flourish, decay, and die. These all had their miraculous births,
superstitious beliefs, sacred books, cunning priests, formal ceremonies, and often cruel and inhuman rites with millions of devoted followers to attest to their divine mission and authority. Mr. Ingersoll believed in all sincerity that Christ was a good man, not an imposter, not a hypocrite, but one of the best of men that ever touched this bank and shoal of time. He was kind, tender, and compassionate. He loved little children and
gathered them in his arms. In his ministry he was intensely earnest, self-denying, and indefatigable. He preached and labored for no salary, gave his gospel freely, without money and without price, and was so poor that he had not where to lay his head, and lived on the hospitality and alms of his followers. Very like, Mr. Ingersoll thought, the itinerant preachers of the early Methodist Church who were more or less warmly welcomed in the homes
of their flocks. This reminded him of the pious woman who entertained several ministers of her denomination attending quarterly conference. On the first morning of their stay she asked her husband for an extra supply of money to do the marketing, saying, quote, You know them religiosus eats orful. Apropos of this question of Christian hospitality, so often abused, a minister once visited a brother living in another city. He prolonged his stay
beyond a reasonable time. Hence that his early departure would not greatly grieve the family were not taken. At last, provoked, the good man of the house invoked the help of the Lord. At family worship one morning he prayed, quote, When our brother leaves us today, go with him, bless him in basket and in store, end quote, and so on. The prayer was quickly answered. The preacher and carpet bag disappeared before the hour for luncheon had arrived. Another
case was that of a Christian worker who late at night and without notice brought himself and his two boys to a brother's home, saying frankly that it was too expensive for him to stop at the hotel. Mr. Ingersoll did not mean to condemn or disparage the hospitality of the early Christian disciples, but he thought the modern practice of pious billeting, as he termed it, somewhat overdone. In the story of Mary and Martha, probably apocryphal,
Mr. Ingersoll thought that Christ as a guest was hardly fair to Martha, not as appreciative as he might have been of her careful concern for his bodily comfort. His extravagant praise for Mary should have been equally shared by both sisters. He seemed to have been more pleased with the loving attention of Mary, who sat at his feet anointing them with oil, bathing them with tears, and wiping them with her flowing tresses, than he was with the
poorer part that Martha chose in entertaining him. Martha stood in the kitchen, as we might say in modern parlance, cooking, baking, and then serving the food, and really loving him, while Mary stayed in the parlour, kneeling and adoring. As one has put it, Mary wept, and so swept. Mr. Ingersoll's choice was for Martha, as the better hostess. Christ was serene, serious, sad, and solemn, as befitted his great mission. Jesus wept. He could not
be jovial, gay, or flippant, light-hearted, or humorous. We do not know that he ever enjoyed a joke or indulged in a hearty laugh. He attended a wedding feast, and may have been merry over the wine he made out of water, but we do not know. We do know that he was terribly severe in his denunciations of wrong and of wrongdoers, and sometimes displayed impatience and temper when displeased, and administered unmerited and unjust rebuke. On one occasion, being
hungry, he approached a fig tree expecting fruit, although the time of figs was not yet. In finding nothing but leaves, he cursed the innocent tree, saying, Let no fruit grow on thee henceforward forever! And instantly the poor thing withered away. Mr. Ingersoll could not reconcile this transaction with goodness or greatness, and thought that a miracle of blessing rather than of cursing should then and there have been performed.
He thought and hoped that the story, like others, was an interpolation. The simple truth, as believed by Mr. Ingersoll, is that Christ was an Oriental prophet, a religious reformer, an evangelist, a protestant against the evils of abuse, the false teaching and formal rights of the Jewish synagogue and altar. He was an infidel and heretic in the eyes of the Orthodox of his day, and was put to a cruel and shameful death on the cross because he
dared to oppose and expose the errors of the church of his fathers. In this he was fearless, courageous, heroic, and truly one of the greatest of the glorious army of martyrs. He must have been attractive and magnetic in his person, speech, and manner, and capable of strong and enduring attachments, in short, an altogether loving and lovable man. These fine traits in him Mr. Ingersoll fully understood and appreciated. He had no aversion, no hatred,
the peasant of Palestine. He was not an enemy but a friend of the human Christ, notwithstanding the calumny and slander of Orthodox priests and teachers. He said, quote, 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 the great and serene man I gladly pay the tribute of my admiration and my tears.
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 an 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 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." While thus recognizing and applauding the high moral character of Christ and his many virtues, Colonel Ingersoll could not see from the record that he was intellectually at the summit of the race. He certainly had but a narrow field of observation and a limited experience. He lived but a few years and in a very small and poor country, and his world was confined to Palestine and the lands bordering on the Mediterranean Sea.
He had not heard of America and knew nothing of the great islands and continents peopled with millions of his fellow creatures that lay beyond the scope of his narrow vision. He had no true conception of the size and shape of the earth, knew little of geography, geology, ethnology, or cosmology, and still less of astronomy. He was ignorant of the motions of the planets, of the suns, moons, and stars wheeling in their orbits through the infinite spaces. He perhaps had heard of the wise men and the star that heralded his birth, but made no mention of it.
Matthew is the only evangelist who records it. He was not a great philosopher. Most of his philosophy was provincial, puerile, crude, and impossible. He did not value worldly wisdom. His kingdom was not of this world. He was not an inventor, voyager, or discoverer of new facts and forces in nature.
