III

THE SENSE OF SIN

The sense of sin is deeper than the consciousness of evil. Evil is a broad, vague word. It covers all that ought not to be, but it does not make clear the nature of the "ought not." It is a general description of that which prevents perfection, destroys happiness, produces discord and misery.

Sin is a precise, sharp word. It translates the idea of evil from the language of philosophy into the language of religion. It defines the nature of the "ought not" as opposed to a divine law. It recognizes the presence and the guilt of a contrary will in disobedience to that law.

The consciousness of evil is universal. There is a feeling of conflict, of disorder, of moral perturbation and unrest, diffused through humanity. This is the great mark of division between the life of man and the life of nature. Emerson has described it in his poem of "The Sphinx." Nature is harmonious, joyful, unconscious of strife between the real and the ideal.

"But man crouches and blushes,

Absconds and conceals;

He creepeth and peepeth,

This mysterious unrest, this vague trouble, is an utterance of man's consciousness that he belongs to another world from that which is ruled by mere necessity. It is an instinctive confession that beyond the power of control, to which all physical life is subject, he feels a power of command, to which his spiritual life ought to be subject. This power of command makes itself known to him through conscience, which is the power of perceiving the difference between the "ought to be" and the "ought not to be."

"Whom do you count the worst man upon earth?" says Robert Browning in "Christmas Eve."

"Be sure that he knows, in his conscience, more
Of what right is, than arises at birth

In the best man's acts that we bow before:
This last knows better-true, but my fact is,

'Tis one thing to know, and another to practise."

This contrast between knowledge and practice is the root of the consciousness of evil, whose symptoms are unrest, shame, and fear.

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Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.”

It is a feeling of resistance to a moral pressure, of disobedience to a commanding power, of discord with a dim ideal. But it is also a sense of compliance with an inward impulse, of obedience to a native desire, of agreement with a secret passion.

It is not altogether dark. It could not exist in a world where there was nothing but evil. In a universe wholly material there could be no materialism. In a race utterly and totally evil there could be no consciousness of evil.

Neither could it exist in a world where separate evils stood alone and had no common ground in human nature. Each misdeed would then be a miracle. It would be a rootless, unrecognizable, nameless thing. Conscience perceives evil not only in its individuality, but also in its solidarity. When a man does wrong

he feels that he is a partner in a great conspiracy, a sharer, by choice or by compliance, in a widespread rebellion.

"There is in man," wrote Frederic Amiel in his diary, "an instinct of revolt, an enemy of all law, a rebel which will stoop to no yoke, not even that of reason, duty, and wisdom. This element in us is the root of all sin-das radicale Böse of Kant."

But this feeling of radical evil and of its presence and potency in every misdeed, needs more light to make its meaning clear. Evil is known as sin only when good is known as the will and command and ideal of a personal and holy God.

This is what St. Paul teaches. Revelation is given to make clear the nature of the gulf between man as he is and man as he ought to be. Evil is not a step in a progress towards the ideal. It is a chasm which cuts us off from the ideal. The reason why it cuts us off is because it is contrary to God's will, through which alone the ideal can be realized. The moral law reveals that will to us as positive, personal, righteous, and immutable. The law enters that the offence may abound, for "by the law is the knowledge of sin." 1

The sense of sin, therefore, is a step beyond

1 Rom. 3:20; 5:20.

the consciousness of evil. And it is a step towards light.

It is the interpretation of evil as an offence against God, a disobedience to God, a separation from God. It comes into being only with Theism, the faith in a holy, wise, and righteous Spirit as creator of the world. It is not until this light breaks upon the soul that Amiel's words become true: "All men long to recover a lost harmony with the great order of things, and to feel themselves approved and blessed by the author of the Universe. All know what suffering is, and long for happiness. All know what sin is, and feel the need of pardon."

Religion must begin, then, even if we hold that its ultimate aim is the deliverance of men from evil, religion must begin not with a doctrine of evil, but with a doctrine of God.

Its keynote must be the first article of the creed, "I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth." When he is hidden, forgotten, denied, the gospel for an age of doubt must prepare the way for the gospel for a world of sin. Over the vague unrest, the inarticulate shame, the uncomprehended fear, of an evil world, the light of God's love and God's law must be poured. Thus only can the evil doer find his way to that place of penitence,