I am perhaps at fault in not having given the names of the professors engaged in the symposium published by the Biblical World of November last, on the subject of "Myth and Fiction in the Bible." They are: A. C. Zenos, of McCormick Theological Seminary, Chicago; Charles F. Kent, of Yale Divinity School; William G. [445] Ballantine, of the International Y. M. C. A. Training School, Springfield, Mass.; George A. Barton, of Bryn Mawr College; Benjamin W. Bacon, of Yale Divinity School; William H. Ryder, of Andover Theological Seminary; Sylvester Burnham, of Hamilton Theological Seminary; Henry S. Nash, of the Episcopal Theological School, Cambridge, Mass., and John E. McFadyen, of Knox College, Toronto.

      I wish to speak chiefly in this article of what some of these gentlemen say respecting our Saviour's parables, but first I must take notice of one more remark on the subject of myths, by Professor Barton. He says: "Since anthropology has made it clear that all peoples have passed through a stage of development in which myths played an important part, if no myth could find a place in an inspired book it would follow that God could not reveal himself at all to the human race during large portions of its history." I should like to ask this Professor if there are not races of men now living who are in as low a stage of development as that in which myths were so necessary. How, then, has it been possible for God to be revealed to the Fiji Islanders and the Hottentots, as he has been, through the agency of modern missionaries? Did those missionaries preach myths, or did they tell those degraded people the plain truth about God? If he should attempt to answer this question, he would see the folly of the statement which I have quoted from him. Then, again, what was the stage of development of the Hebrews when the Book of Genesis, so replete with myths, if you allow this scholar to tell it, was written and published? According to the theory of his school, this book was the result of writings by J and E in the time of Amos and Hosea, or possibly as early as the time of Elijah and Elisha. This was long after the [446] enlightened period of Solomon and David, and was in the midst of a period of literary enlightenment of the Hebrew tribes, according to all the masters of modern criticism. Where, then, was the necessity here spoken of for myths to play such a part that without them God could not reveal himself at all?

      Now for the parables. This same Professor says, "Our Saviour himself has in his parables forever consecrated the fruit of the imagination, or fiction, to religious service," and Professor Bacon says, "No difference of opinion exists among Christians as to the value of fiction in the Bible, when the instance in question is the parables of Jesus." Professor Barton proceeds to give some examples. He says: "The parable of the nobleman who went into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom and to return, can be traced to 'a historical kernel,' since both Herod the Great and Archelaus had done this very thing. Even then the picture as drawn by our Lord is partly imaginary, though based upon an incident of history." This statement is self-contradictory; for if both Herod and his son Archelaus had done the very thing described in the parable, how can the description be partly imaginary? The story of the parable is not fictitious, but a representation of that which had been done more than once in the kingdom of Judah, and many times in other provinces of the Roman Empire.

      He next says that "the parable of the rich man who planned to pull down his barns and build greater is based upon a poetical passage in the fifth chapter of Ecclesiasticus, itself a work of the imagination." But why go back to the fifth chapter of Ecclesiasticus to find a prosperous farmer doing this, when it was occurring every year In which there was an unusual growth of grain in [447] Palestine? Professor Barton should remember that the granaries of the Jews were temporary structures, like those in Palestine at the present day, cheaply built, and easily torn down and reconstructed as occasion might demand. And such procedure on the part of rich men was just as common as were seasons of unusual productiveness. As for the fifth chapter of Ecclesiasticus, it mentions no incident of the kind, and has nothing connected with the subject except the commonplace warning, "Set not thy heart upon thy goods, and say not, They are sufficient for me."

      Again, he says that "the parable of the wicked servant, whose lord delayed, but returned unexpectedly, has been shown to be based on a pre-Christian tale of a secular character, which was widely read among the Jews." If this is true, and if the said tale is a true tale, the parable would still not be a fiction. And why go back to that particular tale when such incidents must have occurred frequently in the age of feudal castles owned by tyrannical lords and cared for in their absence by servants who were frequently neglectful of their duty? Why go about searching for a lump of coal in a coal-yard?

      Again, the Professor says: "Sometimes, as in the parable of the prodigal son, we are able to trace no antecedents. So far as we can tell, it is a pure work of Christ's imagination; but even so, it contains more real truth than most of the incidents which have happened in history, and, better than that, they have for nineteen hundred years conveyed a knowledge of God's forgiving love." Is it true that we can trace this incident to no antecedents? Were there no fathers among the Jews with two sons, one of whom acted as this prodigal son did? And has not the story been repeated in actual [448] life thousands of times since that day? Professor Barton's memory or observation must be defective if he can not recall among his own personal acquaintances some incidents of the kind. True, we do not know the name of the old father whom Jesus had specially in his mind, nor the names of his two sons, nor the exact place of his habitation; but the fact that such incidents are common in life shows that Jesus did not draw upon his imagination, but upon his memory. The Professor is not only mistaken on this point, but he ascribes a value to this parable which it does not possess; for he says that it has conveyed a knowledge of God's forgiving love better than most of the incidents' which have happened in history. It is not the parable which conveys the knowledge of God's forgiving love; it is that which the parable was intended to justify in the minds of the hearers of Jesus. He was receiving publicans and sinners. The Pharisees rebuked him for it, as being unworthy of a man professing holiness. In order to defend himself, he recited to them three parables, each containing an argument from analogy. First, that of the man with one hundred sheep, one of which had gone astray, who left the ninety and nine and hunted up the stray sheep, and, on finding it, called upon the neighboring shepherds to rejoice with him. Second, that of the poor woman who lost one of ten pieces of silver, and who, after finding it by a careful search, called her neighbors together to rejoice for the piece that was found. Third, that of the father, one of whose sons had wandered off and was supposed to be dead, but who came home in extreme wretchedness and was joyfully received. These incidents in which the Pharisees approved the conduct of the principal actors, were presented by Jesus to show how inconsistent they were in disapproving his reception of [449] penitent publicans and sinners. It was his conduct in the premises which has conveyed a knowledge of God's forgiving love, and not either or all of the three parables. The parable of the prodigal reveals only the forgiving love of his father; and it fails to do even this if it is a fiction. It is used only as an argument by analogy to justify Jesus in manifesting divine forgiveness toward sinful men. Whether, then, we consider the historicity of the story, or the meaning of it, Professor Barton shows a misunderstanding of it throughout.

      It is high time that these critics had ceased to speak of the parables of Jesus as fictions. They can not name a single one which is not based upon some actual occurrence. Even the parable of the tares--in which a man is represented as sowing tares in a neighbor's wheatfield, a thing unheard of in America, and one which has been called in question many times by skeptical writers--is not to be set down as purely imaginary. Dean Alford, in his commentary on the passage, states as a fact of his own knowledge that a small wheatfield in England had been poisoned in this way; and when we remember that the fields of the Hebrews Were nearly all, like those in France at the present day, very small, so that a malicious enemy might sow seed all over one of them in a single night, it is not at all surprising that this should have been done, and done in instances so frequent that the disciples were not surprised when Jesus made it the basis of a parable. This treatment of the parables of Jesus by this class of critics is but a specimen of the conjectural way in which they treat the whole Bible, Old Testament and New; and it shows how utterly unreliable their methods are. [450]

      "IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING." If it does, why not let it go that way, instead of saying it? Who originated this piece of nonsense? and why do sensible men keep using it?

      "I CREDIT HIM WITH AS MUCH SINCERITY AS I CLAIM FOR MYSELF." Perhaps you do; but this doesn't prove that he is more sincere than he ought to be. And if he is as sincere as you, this doesn't prove that anything he teaches is true.

      "NEW THOUGHT." The venders of quack medicines, in order to keep up their reputations for original modes of treatment, have to be constantly inventing new names with which to label their nostrums So with the venders of patent notions in philosophy and religion. Every fellow who has become enamored of an old and exploded notion, labels it "New Thought," and immediately the suckers bite at it.

[SEBC 445-451]