DAY of DESTINY

THE MYSTERY OF THE SEVENTH DAY

By Carsten Johnsen

See THE FABULOUS 4TH for a brief version.

Preface

This book was accepted for publication by Review and Herald Publishing Association more than a decade ago. In fact, its acceptance seemed enthusiastic and unanimous. But then, suddenly and unexpectedly, it was dropped. The only reason alleged by the Book Editor of those days, in a letter to the author, was the following: The book was too un-popular to guarantee the sale of at least 5000 copies within a limited period of time, necessary in order to "break even."

A couple of years later the manuscript was accepted for publication by Andrews University Press, but again unexpectedly dropped. This time the reason given was: The book was too popular (not sufficiently academic, particularly in its style).

The author happens to know some other reasons why the men whose verdict is decisive in matters of this order, will tend to go against the publication of such a book. And the reader will soon understand a good deal--and, by and by, more and more--of the great battle which is here going on.

But the more urgent would it seem that the book be made available to a wide group of readers who will be greatly benefited, and pleased, to receive the unusual information it provides regarding some highly controversial topics.

You may of course be among those disturbed by an increasing awareness that an unprecedented drama is in the process of shaking the very foundations of our lives in terms of having time-honored and long-cherished beliefs overthrown in circles of serious Bible students from whom you would never have expected it. In the present work both Sabbath-keepers and non-Sabbath-keepers will be confronted with that drama, seen from an angle they had hardly imagined.

For so many years it has been a source of sadness to me that strong theologians in the Protestant world, even such as Robert Brinsmead, exerting a tremendous influence among us, did not have opportunity to become acquainted with the results of my research in this particular field. But now, whoever you are, please read my book with an open mind, and see for yourself if it has any worth-while answer to give to questions of the most crucial nature among us at a time of unprecedented crisis for both Sabbath-keepers and non-Sabbath-keepers.

CHAPTER 1- DOES THE SABBATH MAKE REAL SENSE?

Does the commandment regarding the 7th Day make sense in terms of a moral obligation? Or is it morally nonsensical? As far as I can see, this question has hardly ever been asked in a serious way by one particular group of experts who ought to have every reason to ask it. I am referring to the leading scholars of the present day in the field of Christian Ethics. Why has this topic been so utterly neglected? Ought it not to be a basic one? At least we should think the Sabbath presents aspects important enough not to be skipped so thoroughly as has been the case. Research today otherwise seems to proclaim the need of being both thorough and comprehensive, paying due attention to all fields of knowledge. In a particular way that ought to apply to our intensive scrutiny of the Bible's concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, ethics and anti-ethics.

Nevertheless, the fact remains, indisputably: The Sabbath, as an ethical problem, seems to have been treated as a veritable taboo. This applies to the most respectable circles in Christian theology.

To the best of my ability, I have tried to find out something in this field that I can rely on, as the result of accurate and tireless investigation. It seems fair that the Sabbath commandment should bear the same scrutiny, the same crucial test that was always kept in store for things that are to be accepted as meaningful or rejected as meaningless.

From times immemorial one rule has appeared reasonable in all research on spiritual matters: Men must ask for meaning. This is a main concern of longing human hearts and truth-seeking human minds everywhere and at all times: Do things in our world make demonstrable sense?

We are fully responsible creatures, endowed with intelligent minds and feeling hearts. So we cannot lean on hear-say, on mere human traditions, or some casual guess-work philosophy. We must know, with all the certainty available to human creatures.

The question about the meaningfulness or the meaninglessness of the Sabbath is one that has appealed to me as a human person and as a conscientious ethicist. My study has demanded an unflinching confrontation with even the apparently most abhorrent facts. I have felt in duty bound to give serious and faithful attention to every relevant facet of the issue at hand, in perfect harmony with the place it rightly deserves in contemporary theology and philosophy. To me it would seem a downright shame to go on pushing under the rug some obvious problems here facing the Christian world: Is it possible that some part of the Decalogue may prove to be entirely non-moral (a-moral) in its essence? And is the Sabbath that part?

Personally, I must admit, I had hardly any idea to what startling findings my research venture in this field was to lead me. The road I had here launched out upon was a problem-studded one. But it also presented new perspectives, promising possible solutions.

Considered from the view-point of Christian ethics my question would naturally take this form: Is there anything inherent in the very essence of the Sabbath Commandment making it morally binding upon a Christian to keep that day holy? Going contrary to a clearly moral obligation, must of course be a matter of serious concern to any person involved. But being under the oppressive yoke of a sham duty may be an equally crushing and tragic destiny to a human soul, born for freedom rather than for slavery. Is "sabbatarianism" freedom then, or is it slavery? It seems bound to be one or the other. Which of them, that is the great question. Now, do there exist, in basic ethics, any criteria apt to decide this question in a decisive way? Does Christian ethics dispose of any such criteria?

Moral obligations always present themselves as something penetrating deeply into the sphere of personal relationships. Consequently, an investigation of this order is bound to be a matter we need to treat conscientiously in the highest degree. Thoroughness is a must. So I made up my mind to do thorough work, and to take my point of departure in a field of research where my qualifications seemed to be the best. I am referring to the history of ideas, and particularly the study of fundamental motifs in the Western World. At least I did, myself, feel that I had a fair knowledge of this research area.

As a historian of ideas I had already marveled considerably at the mysterious inroads of platonic spiritualism into Christendom. But never before had I viewed this historical fact in any direct connection with the question of the Sabbath commandment, compared to the rest of the Decalogue, in terms of ethical relevancy.

I started this book referring to the question for meaning. That is the personal individual's existential cry de profundis: Does my life have an intelligent purpose? That may be differentiated in terms of the triple question of the WHENCE and the WHY and the WHITHER: 1. Where do I come from? 2. Why am I here? 3. Where do I go from here?

The last of those three is not the least important. Too many among my fellow travelers tell me that I am bound for a land of virtual nothingness. The only fate awaiting me at the other end of the road is the final wiping out of my very identity as a person.

Now notice: This is not only the vague idea troubling the minds of the great majority of every-day materialists among us; that is, such who hardly possess any heart-felt religion or any deeper philosophy in their lives at all. No, it is also the firm conviction (or systematic ideology) of those having the only "religion"--or the only philosophy rather--which ever managed to penetrate the serious thinking of our Western culture, by and large, since the day of Plato; just as we may speak of the only "religion," the only philosophy, ever to exert a real impact on the Eastern World since the day of Boudd'ha. I am speaking about the pure-spirit-ism of pagan idealism, a formidable phenomenon whose nature most people among us are sadly ignorant about. Although this spiritualism is the one great Rival of Christianity in our world, even most genuine and otherwise most enlightened Christians seem to know next to nothing about that philosophical spiritualism.

Here I ought to be among the first myself to plead guilty. The very profession I represent is to blame for that ignorance, maybe more than anybody else. In fact, you are hardly ever told, in plain and unambiguous terms, by your teachers of the history of ancient philosophy what Plato's famous doctrine of the Idea bluntly implies, regarding the "survival" of the human "Soul".

And now, what about another branch of practically the same "guild"? Hardly ever are you plainly informed by the prophets of Eastern meditation philosophies, now spreading their "wisdom" like a prairie fire over Western lands, what meager hope they can actually give you for a survival that is here assumed to be the self-evident ideal. Maybe you are so practical and realistic in your human thinking that you would never think this worthy of the term "survival" in any case. It looks as if we have inflation enough in our world today. We are not so eager to have it invade even the most sacred concepts of our spiritual terminology.

I shall do my best to keep faithfully and soberly to the matter at hand. I invite you to follow my argument with a critical mind and an open heart. Possible mistakes of mine should not be blamed on any institution or any collective group. I assume full personal responsibility for this unusual approach to the questions treated and for the results I arrive at. I am staking unreservedly on an attitude of full sincerity. The Sabbath question will have to bear the full weight of a fair trial.

I am fully aware, of course, that the obligations I have thus assumed demand a most delicate sensitiveness to diverging views, and a most vivid responsiveness, on my part, to all possible objections. I must be prepared to meet--with courage and humility--any counter-argument which happens to come my way, either from professed Sabbath-keepers or from non-Sabbath-keepers. I expect some sharp resistance from either camp. That is no great misfortune. I must weigh the arguments of others, wherever they come from, be it learned theologians or simple laymen. I must weigh them with logic and a fair consideration of the basic historical facts. This is where the standard of fairness in debate must be inexorable. If the Sabbath doctrine is not sufficiently strong in itself to stand up to a fair application of the sound and simple principles valid for all truth-seeking, as the Lord of Righteousness has laid them firmly down, then it should simply be abandoned as unworthy of further defense.

A focal point of our discussion is bound to be: is the 4th commandment of the Decalogue, according to its inmost essence, a matter of ethical meaningfulness?

In close connection with that fundamental theme, we also have to raise a question on the historical level. It is a highly relevant one, which might perhaps provide important information about the first question as well: How has that commandment been evaluated, and factually treated, by Christendom. Was the Sabbath generally looked upon as a meaningful commandment, a norm of ethical behavior, commanding full respect?

Modern research in the field of fundamental motifs, governing a given culture, has duly demonstrated that a spiritual battle has been raging between a Christian motif of spiritual values and a non-Christian one. The Christian motif has been given the name of Agape. The pagan fundamental motif has received the name of Eros. Where does the Sabbath find its proper place in this life-and-death struggle of the ages?

In research dealing with such serious matters, no less than in any other worthy research, the truth, and nothing but the truth, must be decisive. For it is the truth which is going to win the final battle. It is not the personal pride of such or such a group of men. And God is the One who must Himself take care of His truth. He, the unconquerable One, is able to do that.

To researchers, as well as to other men, the Bible's God has this word: "Without Me ye can do nothing (John 15:5)". That statement of utter God-dependence comes from the mouth of the Son of God. It ought to direct our thoughts at every step we take. Its theo-centricity is a foundation on which any man can build safely. In matters of ethics, and in any research project based on spiritual argumentation, it is the only foundation you can rely on. The whole Christian Agape motif is found summed up in that categorical statement from Jesus Christ: "Without Me ye can do nothing".

CHAPTER II METANOIA VERSUS AUTARKEIA

The focus then will be narrowed down to this specific question: "Is the Sabbath commandment spiritually meaningful?" Along with that fundamental inquiry, we shall also ask a curious question on the historical plane: "How has this commandment been looked upon and treated by Christendom?" Was the Sabbath commandment generally regarded as meaningful? Throughout my discussion, the relationship that clearly exists between the Sabbath commandment and the inroads of spiritualism will be highlighted. Let me repeat:

In that scrutiny nothing but the truth should prevail. For it is truth that is to win the battle. It is not this or that other group's personal pride. And it is God who takes care of His truth. To researchers, as well as to other men, God says, "Without me, ye can do nothing" (John 15:5). Those words of Christ should be unshakably riveted in our minds as we proceed. Their message is, in fact, the very foundation on which I feel safe in building up the whole argument of my investigation. The fundamental motif of Christianity is epitomized by that categorical statement of Jesus. Man's total dependence on Christ is alpha and omega.

As the Bible looks at human history, it constitutes one great life-and-death battle. A battle between whom? The two giants at relentless war with each other are Christian LOWLINESS and pagan HAUGHTINESS. The Bible has different terms for that fundamental Christian motif of a humble submission to God, man's total self-surrender or Christ-dependence. The main concept I have felt urged to settle upon is that of METANOIA. Nothing could, in a more exhaustive way, assume the function of expressing the fundamental motif on the Christian side. The King James Version renders it "Repentance" in most cases. Other Bible translations have preferred the word "Conversion". That too is understandable. For, literally, METANOIA has to do with a radical "Change of Mind". Generally speaking, what all these terms actually stand for is an entirely new attitude in man, namely an attitude of total submission to God. That prayerful act of self-surrender is the fundamental attitude of what is also called the contrite heart. But contrition is nothing but a total brokenness of man's self. This is all the gospel demands of a human being who wants to be a child of God. But it should also be pointed out: it demands nothing less than that. And it is not an insignificant change in a person's life. The famous Vulgate rendering of the concept of Metanoia is Poenitentia. This gives three English words of the same root. It is rendered not only as Repentance, but also as Penitence and Penance. The fundamental spirit of Metanoia bears all these aspects of a thoroughly transformed human life in its profound essence.

Why do I choose the Greek word "Metanoia"? It should not be an occasion for any scandal if I here select a term of classical Western origin to englobe the basic spirit of Christianity. There is no getting away from the fact that our present world culture finds some of its roots in ancient Greece. Greek happened to be the world language becoming the main linguistic medium for expressing and consolidating that culture. The entire Hellenist world depended, for hundreds of years, on that language for the propagation and survival of its intrinsic values, both cultural and spiritual. And the incomparable value, here, included, is Christianity. So nobody should be offended if I have given, to the positive one of my two "giants" on the fighting arena of history, a name that is Greek. It is in fact Biblical Greek.

And now, what about a fitting name for the second fundamental motif, the opposing giant fighter on the stage of spiritual battle in our Western world? I think it is not unreasonable if I go to the same linguistic medium to find a fitting name for him as well. But this time I would not hesitate to call it a medium of classical Greek. For it used to be a concept restlessly alive in the philosophical world of antiquity. A word we here come across again and again, and with a significant pagan flavor, is AUTARKEIA. That Means Self-Sufficiency. So it stands for a quality still enjoying the highest prestige in our world. You could hardly find a characteristic more representative of platonic idealism in antiquity than that. In fact, self-sufficiency is a main characteristic of humanism through all ages. I here mean humanism as a philosophy and as a veritable religion, the most worthy rival, and the most formidable one, that Christianity has ever known.

This bold humanism should be well known to most of us. Still I ought to satisfy my reader's desire to know, in further detail and more exactly, what particular qualities I myself include in the term I have here particularly chosen to represent a fundamental motif in an anti-Christian direction (the term Autarkeia, or Self-sufficiency). Theologians will tend to be fairly familiar with the Christian concept of Metanoia. But I cannot expect, in the same circles, a general knowledge of the concept of Autarkeia. At least both the philosopher and the theologian may need a brief outline of what I here understand by the term. It is not complicated. It can easily be understood by people without any special philosophical or theological background.

Who, then, distinguishes himself as being "autarkes" (the corresponding adjective: self-sufficient)?

Pagan man does. That is, any man who has not been transformed by Christianity. Western men as a whole, that is you and I, as we naturally come out in this present world culture, are particularly self-sufficient. Our cultural heritage could not fail to mark us. The result is inevitable: We tend to feel an irresistible urge to depend on ourselves, to stand "on our own feet" in life's most taxing situations. Of course, it may come home to us, sometimes, that we are in a desperate need of salvation. We do need a decisive escape from chaos and utter destruction. But where do we look for that escape? To ourselves! This is the haunting notion of our life, the prevailing idea deadlocking our mind: "If I am to find salvation there is only one I can fully rely on. That is myself. So if I do not manage to save myself, there certainly is not anyone else who will provide it for me." This is the increasingly prevalent cry from the depths of internal anguish in modern Western man. So self-dependence becomes the great obsession of his life.

Now one may frankly ask, Does that man really want to be saved from the monsters threatening to devour him? Does he desire to accept a salvation offered to him by the other ones? There is considerable reason to assume that he does not. Not really, at the bottom of his heart. He abhors being saved by anyone outside, who insists on reaching him a helping hand. He will take no help of that ultimate kind from a fellow being, be it relative or friend, church or government, be it even God Himself. In fact, God is the last one he would stoop down to take help and salvation from.

Now, is there anything in man that makes it easy to persist in that attitude of total self-dependence? Was man ever naturally geared to a life of that kind? You need not go to religion to have the answer. Turn to biology as a secular science. What information does it have about the natural needs of man? It tells you that there hardly exists a single species in this earth that is born more dependent on the other ones. The human baby, from the moment he is born, is the most helpless creature on the earth. No other child in the whole animal kingdom depends so entirely, and for such a long time, as the human child does, on the active intervention, the merciful assistance, of the "other ones," in order to survive in the first place, and then in order to grow up to adulthood and maturity.

So what a tragedy that it should be precisely man who develops this unfortunate attitude of insisting upon self-dependence.

Well, you say, but he finally does manage, then, to become that adult and mature being. He does assert himself as a truly independent one.

No. The remarkable thing is that the trouble does not stop here. In a way it only begins, in earnest, at this stage of the story. It is exactly at the time when man reaches that blessed hill-top of "adulthood" and "maturity" that his problem becomes acute in the highest degree. Other-dependence is the natural element of men's lives, the supreme peak of their blessedness. There is the danger then, that we, with our peculiar set of pagan biases, might imagine that other-dependence, as such, is an inferior and rather abnormal state of things. But the simple testimony of a well-known secular science ought to be sufficient evidence to the contrary. We mentioned biology. Did you ever think it such a tragic thing for that natural human child to depend so utterly on his mother, his closest other one? Of course not. That child is perfectly happy in his utter dependence.

In fact, it is an exquisite blessing, in the world of God's planning, to be in need of Him. The very need the creature senses of a harbor of rest, an environment to which he can abandon himself wholeheartedly, this is, in itself, a most blessed experience. So to the mature creature as well, his very dependence on resting at the bosom that can provide true rest, is an occasion for fulfillment and joy.

At the same time, however, there is of course a certain risk involved in a person's need of rest. It may turn out to be a curse instead of a blessing, even if the Rest giver is there right at hand. The first need of the rest-deprived man is to know that the rest is needed. How, otherwise, could he avail himself of it?

This is where a noticeable difference between the child and the adult may aver itself. Whereas the child is generally quite aware of his need of "resting", that is, his total dependence on the other ones, the adult distinguishes himself as strangely dull (callous, insensitive) in this essential respect. He is just not aware of his desperate need of "rest", and still less of any Rest-giver being there, right at hand. So he is just not disposed for rest. And you cannot really rest, if you are not willing to rest.

The man of this world has grown extremely adult, and extremely callous. So we should not be surprised if he has become rather insensitive to the greatest need of his life, and incapable of satisfying that need. It is man's wholehearted return to God's rest (Shabbat) that the gospel calls Repentance (Metanoia).

The diametrically opposite of this is sheer Impenitence. That is the most dangerous attitude any man can persist in. It means a conscious resistance against the grace of God, a bold declaration of total independence of the gracious rest in God's arms. This protracted refusal on the part of the intelligent creature causes a gradually waning awareness of the most desperate need. It is the tragedy of Autarkeia, the proud self-sufficiency in man's nature.

CHAPTER III IS THE SABBATH COMMANDMENT MORAL?

The decalogue is a moral law. There is hardly any doubt about that. And the Sabbath commandment is right in the middle of that moral law.

So at least somebody, at some time, must have deemed it "sufficiently moral" to be incorporated in the decalogue. On the other hand, certain representative circles of theologians, both keenly intelligent and--I would like to assume--irreproachably honest men, have rated it as definitely non-moral,--a-moral.

To be sure, those men do not bluntly deny that the Sabbath has received that venerable position right in the midst of the universal code of moral conduct just mentioned. But this fact they tend to describe as a curious case of human misunderstanding, or as a deplorable vestige of Jewish legalism. Let us look more closely and quite frankly at this singular item within the framework of the Biblical decalogue:

Considered from the viewpoint of human rationalism the Sabbath may seem to have a certain degree of "arbitrariness" about it. Take the very idea of dividing time into units containing just seven days each. Does that make any sense, humanly speaking?

If we go back to the smaller temporal unit, the day, that is an altogether different matter. For this is at least a dividing up of time based on a definite astronomical fact: a day is just the time this globe of ours takes to make one turn around its own axis. To any observer this "makes sense"; similarly for certain larger units of time, for instance the month and the year. They are self-evident divisions based on rationally acceptable mathematical and astrophysical relations.

But who ever hit upon the idea of dividing time into weeks? We must be reasonably justified--as far as human knowledge and human reason are concerned--in qualifying that idea as somewhat "arbitrary". So this question present itself: Who has had the incomparable "arbitrariness" to command, with an unmistakably authoritative voice:

"Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work: But the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, thy God: In it thou shalt not do any work, thou nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates." Exodus 20:8-10.

On many occasions, zealous Jews--and some Sabbath-keeping Christians over the centuries--have tried to make fellow-truthseekers "realize" that there is "nothing essentially different" about this commandment, as compared to the other nine among which it has been placed. They have not been particularly successful. Why not? Was their endeavor worthy of success?

Let us first look at the peculiar nature of the Moral Law, as it is commonly known. Is there anything in this code of behavior that inspires us with immediate awe?

We remember Kant's saying that two things never failed to fill him with admiration: the starry heavens he saw above him, and the moral law he felt within him. The apostle Paul, also, alludes to the wonderful thing God has implanted in every normal human breast: a sort of deeper conscience, informing men in all environment what is fundamentally right and what is fundamentally wrong:

"For when the gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law; these having not the law, are a law unto themselves; which show the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts and meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another." (Romans 2:14,15).

In fact, this seems to be a widely accepted axiom, as it were. Any man, whether in an "enlightened" culture, or in the "darkest" jungle, naturally possesses some fundamental notion that he commits some morally objectionable action whether he commits murder, theft, or falsehood in his respective community, or hurts the interest of his fellow men in some other serious manner. (We here assume, of course, that a natural sensitiveness toward standards of good and evil, in the mind of a given individual, or in the group to which he belongs, has not been completely dulled, due to some extreme indulgence or habitual practice of violating that inner code of moral behavior. For even that "natural law", speaking in man's breast, can be reduced to silence, or to an extremely faint whispering.)

As C.S. Lewis pointed out in his fascinating little book Mere Christianity (Collins Fontana Books Series, 1964, p. 17), this inner voice in man was traditionally called the law of Nature because people realized that everyone knew it by nature. One did not need to be taught it. It is not "natural" and "universal" in the sense that you might not find an occasional individual who exists without it. Exceptions to the normal do exist, just as you will always find those, here and there, who are "colorblind", or "have no ear for a tune". Such cases do exist. But they do not disprove the main rule. I would like to add, though, that the comparison here may be somewhat weak in one sense: you may be colorblind, and still figure as perfectly human. But if you lack the essence of the natural law at the bottom of your mind, I would definitely hesitate to declare you truly human. This is rather a case of the in-human. True men do possess that law as a sort of standard equipment, a criterion of their very mannishness.

Here the objection is brought up: "Different ages and different civilization have had quite different moralities. How could that happen, if the Natural Law is an inherent reality in all normal men?"

But that objection is easily resolved. True, differences in moralities do exist. But do they amount to a total difference from one people to the other, or from one age to the other? By no means. What is strikingly apparent, when we compare Americans with Chinese or ancient people with modern, is rather the similarity in their respective reactions.

"Think of a country where people were admired for running away in battle, or where a man felt proud of double-crossing all the people who had been kindest to him. You might just as well try to imagine a country where two and two made five. Men have differed, as regards, to what people you ought to be unselfish--whether it was only your family, or your countrymen, or everyone--but they have always agreed that you ought not to put yourself first. Selfishness has never been admired. Men have differed as to whether you should have one wife or four, but they have always agreed that you must not simply have any woman you liked.

But the most remarkable thing is this. Whenever you find a man who says he does not believe in a real Right and Wrong, you will find the same man going back on this a moment later. He may break his promise to you, but if you try breaking one to him, he will be complaining, `It's not fair!', before you can say Jack Robinson. A nation may say treaties do not matter; but then, next minute, they spoil their case by saying that the particular treaty they want to break was an unfair one. But if treaties do not matter, and if there is no such thing as Right and Wrong--in other words, if there is no Law of Nature--what is the difference between a fair treaty and an unfair one? Have they not let the cat out of the bag and shown that, whatever they say, they really know the Law of Nature, just like anyone else?

It seems, then, we are forced to believe in a real Right and Wrong. People may be sometimes mistaken about them, just as people sometimes get their sums wrong; but they are not a matter of mere taste and opinion, anymore than the multiplication table." (Ibid. pp. 17-18).

Even in the most trivial everyday quarrels between people in all countries, young ones and old ones, educated ones and uneducated ones, the sharp observer discovers that certain inner norms are present. For what, indeed, is the meaning of such current phrases as the following:

"How would you like it if someone did the same to you?"

"That is my seat; I was there first."

"Leave him alone. He is not doing you any harm."

"Why should you shove in first?"

"Give me a bite of your orange. I gave you a bite of mine."

"Come on; you promised."

The ethics-conscious anthropologist's conclusion here is not unreasonable: The people who make those trivial everyday remarks are not merely saying to their fellow creatures, "Your behavior there does not particularly please me". No, they imply something infinitely more: they appeal to some definite standard of behavior. And they take it for granted, as though it were a scientific axiom, that the other person, whoever he may happen to be, has full knowledge of the same standard. In fact, they are proved right in their assumption by the very reaction of the person addressed--he simply does not make the least effort to call into question the validity of the assumed standard. He does not say: "Your standard is basically wrong. I do not give one cent for it." On the contrary, what he starts doing is rather to demonstrate that he has not gone contrary to that standard at all. He says for instance: "When I was given the bite of orange, certain circumstances were entirely different." This helps him to get around the standard in a legitimate way. The standard itself is not disputed. The standard is indisputable. It simply is there, with its roots inextricably and eternally woven into the very depths of the human heart.

We have, so far, limited our examples to commandments dealing with a person's offences against his neighbor. So those on which table of stone? On the second. But let us now pass on to the injunctions essentially concerned with man's special relationship to his Creator. Obviously Paul is of the opinion that natural man has some general feeling of his moral obligations there as well. Others have been tempted not to include, here, any of the four commandments as found in the first table of stone. According to their judgment, it is only a certain sense of our obligation toward our fellow-men that constitutes a sort of congenital moral equipment in the human heart. So when Paul says about the gentiles that they are "a law unto themselves", this should, allegedly, apply essentially to the last six commandments of the Decalogue, contained in the second table. These are, according to that special interpretation, the only part of the Law which men naturally keep written in their hearts. Is this true? Not according to Scripture. For how, in that case, could Paul claim that God, through the simple fact of the marvels of a created world, surrounding every person, has sufficiently revealed to that person "His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse" (Romans 1:20)? Even men without any knowledge of the Bible have admitted their total responsibility to recognize a "vertical", as well as a "horizontal" relationship in their lives; so not only a man-to-man relation, but also a man-to-God relation of the highest ethical indebtedness. Man is not a dumb beast without any sense of divinity.

That pessimistic view, excluding practically all natural knowledge of God in the human heart, is manifestly disproved then, both by history and by common present-day experience. Take, first, the testimony of the Socrates whom Plato shows us in the Apology (which I believe to be the authentic Socrates; see Man the Indivisible, pp. 106-108). Here is an eloquent case for the vivid consciousness of moral responsibility toward a Supreme Being, which even such a man may have who has never made any concrete acquaintance with the first table of stone. Socrates certainly was a "gentile" in Paul's sense of the term.

This, then, is the testimony borne by human history: even in their relation to the divine, some men, with little or no trace of any biblical culture in their lives, present the clearest evidence that they do have, in the depths of their hearts, some basic sense of a definitely moral obligation toward a Higher Being, a Supreme Force, or Transcendental Authority-or whatever we understand by the name of God. Whenever they know that they have violated that solemn sense of moral dependence they feel toward the Originator of all life, then there is a troublesome voice crying out from their innermost being: "This was an act of my sinful self, committed against the Great Other One. It should never have been done. For His sake it should not have been done." They have a super-sensitive resonance chamber for the voice of God within them.

"For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse." (Romans 1:20).

To whom does the apostle refer as those who "are without excuse"? Obviously just those who did not become obedient to "the voice". God has seen to it that they should not appear before the judgment throne saying, We knew nothing better.

"Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shown it unto them." (Romans 1:19).

Any man has freedom to go contrary to the "voice", and the result of this will always be disastrous. Here Paul does not allow us to be ignorant about the exact consequences:

"Because that, when they knew God, they glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the incorruptible into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things." (Romans 1:21-23).

We who have been "born into Christendom" are rather quick in dividing the world population into "pagans" and "Christians", thinking that we ourselves belong to the latter group. But according to the Bible, there is much evidence that the border line goes in another place than we imagine. It is the men of good will who will place themselves where God can save them. But the "good will" manifests itself in this that one is willing to go from light to light, in the same measure as God reveals Himself and His will to the individual man.

What I have here essentially spoken about, is the light that constitutes our common property as men, from the beginning. There is a glimmer of light deep down in the heart of any normal being, some sort of congenital knowledge of God's moral demands to his intelligent creature.

And here we are coming back to the question to which we are particularly bent on getting a dependable and fully satisfactory answer: Of what kind is that "original light" in natural man? How must we qualify that "basic knowledge about God" in the human heart,-that "fundamental moral sense", according to which natural man has an innate knowledge of a certain obligation toward the Supreme Being? Is that "inner light" of such a kind that it imparts accurate instructions about what man is obligated to do in every detail? In short: is it of a specific character?

No, it is of a highly general character. As we shall soon see, we here have to do with a manifestly general awareness, in man, of God and of man's moral obligations toward Him. That seems to be the plausible reason why such an awareness may so often present contours so extremely hazy and vague. God has to reveal Himself specifically in order to be known.

And this brings us right down to the bottom of that first table of stones, to the fourth and last commandment of the law regarding man's special obligations toward his Maker. Of course, it must be pointed out that, according to the Bible, all ten commandments are the result of divine revelation of the highest order. Man would not grasp one bit of their true implication, unless the Spirit of God enlightened his mind and heart. Still the 4th commandment stands out in a spectacular way.

CHAPTER IV THE STARTLING DIFFERENCE OF THE SABBATH COMMANDMENT

What makes the Sabbath commandment different? This is a capital question. It has to be searchingly asked and accurately answered. We have stated something essential about the "natural law". That is the law every normal man carries in his human breast: It distinguishes itself as a highly general law. A person of good common sense and general logic may, according to that law, draw general conclusions about what is evidently good or evidently evil. You have an unmistakable "hunch" that there is something definitely wrong about murdering people or stealing your neighbor's money. But now, what about the fourth commandment? Would it seem likely to you that just that same kind of "inborn knowledge", in man, of his moral obligation toward a Higher Authority, God, would be sufficient to lead him to an observance of the Sabbath commandment?

Our answer must be an unqualified no. The Sabbath is definitely not something man can arrive at "naturally" as an immediate conclusion or a logical grasp of anything that is "decent human behavior". By no means. We need not, for that matter, deny the reality of a "general moral sense" in man, or the existence of a "natural law" But the Sabbath just isn't to be found in that category of law; this is the simple truth. The general moral sense is, no doubt, something good and invaluable to have, but in the present case it just does not work. Something infinitely more is demanded in order for man to possess even the faintest inkling about the Sabbath. And what is that "something infinitely more"?

What does this unique fourth commandment include that is missing in the natural law? It simply commands man to set apart one definite day of every week, as "holy time". And what, now, is the "week"? When does that queer thing find its beginning and its end? The Sabbath is the last and seventh day of the week. But how much does that piece of information help you? You may be ever so able to count, even as far as to seven. Someone may even have given you the inside information that this is exactly how far you should count in order to locate holiness: Still you may not have the shadow of a chance to arrive at the location of the holy time. It all depends where you start your counting. Where is the first day located? That is your initial problem.

How do you expect that man should be cognizant of all these things, just basing himself on himself--that is, on his own intellect, his inherent human knowledge? That would be tantamount to demanding of that poor creature that he should possess, somewhere in the depths of his natural conscience, some kind of infallible ticking clockwork,. automatically warning him every time when the Sabbath happens to be in the offing: "This is holy time now making its solemn appearance in your life. Beware of treating its hours the same profane way you treat any other day. If you attend to your own secular business during this time, that is a serious violation of God's holy law."

How could an uninformed "gentile" be supposed to know this by virtue of his "basic sense of right and wrong"? Understandably the missionary, the one who does have "all the facts" already, could confront the man from the bush with other transgressions, for instance: "Why do you steal, man, depriving your neighbor of the enjoyment of his possessions? Your own heart ought to tell you plainly enough that this is not right."

One might, I think, even say to that man with good reason: "Why do you blaspheme your God"? Your deepest sense of reverence for a Supreme Authority, the Omnipotent One, who must have created you and all things around you,--this ought to be a sufficient intimation to you that blasphemy is a mortal sin!

But it would definitely be unreasonable to say suddenly to the same heathen, "Why do you work on this particular day? Your innate moral sense ought to have taught you long ago that desecrating the day of rest is a terrible sin against God."

Can it be bluntly denied, then, that something in the Sabbath commandment is essentially different?

Let us see what we can learn about this from some interesting statements in the Catechism of the Council of Trent for Parish Priests It speaks precisely about the nature of that difference. And now, please do not with particular eagerness pick out of that statement, publicly made by the Roman Catholic Church, just those points which may seem rather doubtful to you. A simple principle of intellectual honesty demands that you also pay due attention to what you find perfectly irreproachable. In fact, here we should rather concentrate on the points on which we can all logically and heartily agree:

"The point of difference (between the Sabbath commandment and the other nine) is evident. The other commandments of the Decalogue are precepts of the natural law, obligatory at all times and unalterable. Hence, after the abrogation of the Law of Moses, all the ten commandments contained in the two tables are observed by Christians, not indeed because their observance is commanded by Moses, but because they are in conformity with nature, which dictates obedience to them.

"This commandment about the observance of the Sabbath, on the other hand, considered as the time appointed for its fulfillment, is not fixed and unalterable, but susceptible of change, and belongs not to the moral, but to the ceremonial law. Neither is it a principle of the natural law; we are not instructed by nature to give external worship to God on that day, rather than any other." (Translated by J.A.McHugh and C.J. Callan, 1958, pp. 397-398. Emphasis supplied. Notice the interesting use of the term "natural law" here!)

There is one conclusion in the text which seems to be fully warranted by the results we ourselves have already arrived at: The Sabbath commandment is different. It does not belong to the "natural law." Nothing in our own nature, as logically reasoning creatures with an inherent moral sense, gives us the least information about the seventh day as particularly holy and inviolable.

The main thing we establish as a certainly then, so far, is that the Sabbath commandment is different. A further question is this one: What does it mean to be different? Does this imply, automatically, being of an inferior order? Does it mean being non-moral? Does it mean being of a "lesser validity"? Of course not. "Differentness" could mean any of these things. But it could also mean something else. In a given case it could apply to a quality that does not refer to its moral or spiritual rank at all. In another case "being different" could even mean "being of a definitely higher moral or spiritual rank." In the case at hand we have not yet decided in what direction the Sabbath commandment is different. Theoretically, however, there is nothing, so far, preventing us from imagining that it might be in a positive direction.

We prefer, however, to proceed very cautiously. For the time being, we are satisfied with consolidating the knowledge we already do have. We do not only know that the fourth commandment is different from the other nine. We also know in what respect it differs. And we know that this is an essential respect. In fact, we have here been faced with a remarkable distinction between two categories of law. A given commandment may be "natural" or "non-natural".

The Council of Trent Catechism, it is true, has a very definite evaluation of the two, compared to each other, as far as spiritual rank is concerned. But of course we need not immediately accept the standard on which that evaluation bases itself. We should first have a close and careful look at it. But let us now first only state, without any definite value judgment, in what those two categories of law distinguish themselves from each other. You will soon enough get to know which of the two enjoys the greater prestige in the Western world, if you do not know it already:

1. The first category is that of the "natural" or "universal" law, as it is commonly called. Commandments of that category distinguish themselves thus: They can automatically be grasped by man himself; that is, by something in his logical nature that enables him to recognize them as generally valid. As for the source of that general validity, it depends on some self-evident principle of a universal kind.

2. In the opposite category, then, we find injunctions such as the one that we should keep the Sabbath. Here things do not follow self-evidently, automatically, that is, by virtue of a general principle only. Small wonder that typical theorists do not so easily manage to find much to rejoice over in a commandment of that type. Evidently the Sabbath has a moderate appeal to people of a purely theoretical bent.

Now the Hellenist world culture has not differed from other outstanding pagan cultures in one thing: it was almost invariably the men of theoretical genius, rather than those of practical skill, who were granted top honor and exerted the greatest influence in molding the ideals of their respective environments. This is a significant historical fact. So you may draw the necessary conclusions yourself, as to which of the two categories of law was destined to enjoy the greater prestige in this world. That gives us a further historical fact, as far as the Sabbath is concerned: The differentness of the fourth commandment is equated with "inferiority", short and sweet. The Sabbath has received its label for the rest of time. That label reads "not so good", "not so valid", and "not so ideal".

And notice: this is not a minority verdict. It is a clear majority in Western Christendom who appear to be of this opinion. You may personally think it is a subjective opinion, an unwarranted opinion, but the opinion itself is a historical reality. Grasp it as such for the time being.

We need not precipitate our logical course here. Certainly, to decide for ourselves whether the above evaluation is true or false is important enough. But it is not a decision we have to rush into. It ought rather to grow naturally out of our observations as a whole. One thing I have considered it most relevant to find out about, with a fair degree of certainty, is for instance this: What close connection can one establish between the mentioned depreciation of the Sabbath and an analogous depreciation of bodies and all material realities in the same cultures? The latter phenomenon is an unfailing corollary to the spiritualizations taking place in pagan idealism. And about this spiritualism I know with certainty that it is illusionism itself, elevated to a religious system.

But those are questions that demand thoroughness and sincerity in thought and action. Too much depends on the answer for such questions to be treated with superficiality and insincerity. Stereotypes in human thinking cannot be depended upon. They are too dangerous. We here have had to do precisely with a stereotype pattern of thought: Because the Sabbath was different (did not conform to the usual trend), people instinctively jumped to the conclusion that it was of an inferior quality.

And then perhaps the strangest thing of all in the history of these special ideas happens one day: Even Sabbath-keepers themselves accept the spurious premises of this thought pattern. To them, as well, it eventually appears that being different is tantamount to being inferior--in this case, of "lesser validity" or of "zero validity": So the guideline followed is a pretty stereotype one. Whatever you do, please don't deviate from the ideal once set--in this case, the supremacy of automatic validity! In other words, some actual Sabbath-keepers, too, finish by thinking that the Sabbath is bankrupt from the moment it has been proved, by the learned ones, that it is nothing but a "deviator". So in order to save the reputation of the fourth commandment, Sabbath-keepers have felt duty-bound to demonstrate, at all costs, that it does not deviate from the others in any respect. Is this an intelligent attitude? There has been a noticeable tendency on the part of Western Sabbath-keepers to reject any suggestion that the Sabbath commandment should be different from the other nine. That is a disservice to the dignity of the Sabbath commandment--if such dignity exists!

From a human point of view this reaction is quite understandable. Imagine a Sabbath-observer who has perhaps for a long time made a special point of stressing that the fourth commandment is "just one of the ten", having absolutely everything "in common with the other nine" (since that "commonness" is the great point of prestige): That person will be naturally tempted to build up barricades in his mind against the very idea that there might be any "difference" between the commandments.

Let us now have the honesty, however, of facing squarely just what that "differentness" of the Sabbath commandment would realistically amount to in practice. This can be briefly stated as follows: In order that human being should possess any notion whatsoever of the duty his Creator has placed upon him of setting apart such and such a day as holy time, one thing is absolutely indispensable, that is, a most concrete and most literal communication to him from the only One who did have that notion, namely God.

In that connection it would appear reasonable to ask two essential questions: First, what should be so infinitely unworthy about such a specific communication on the part of God directed to man? Second, is there any special evidence that such a communication directly to man, from God, has not been made, that it could not, possibly, have been made at all?

I just cannot understand what is bound to be such a terrible problem here, in view of the God-man relationship the Bible teaches. As if such direct and express communications from the Creator to his creature were not a current matter, according to the Biblical record from Genesis to Revelation! Must it not be taken for granted that God personally made known to man what man himself had no means of knowing all by himself? The author of the historical record makes it very plain that God did come down, quite personally, with a specific act and a specific message:

"And on the seventh day God ended the work which he made, and he rested on the seventh day from all His work which he had made. And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made." (Genesis 2:2,3).

Moses manifestly entertains no doubts that the direct source of this historical knowledge is the Lord Himself. He is the One who literally comes down and delivers His personal message. Thus also a little later:

"And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day." (Genesis 3:8).

The first Sabbath text of the Bible is very much to the point. After having created during six days, God rested on the seventh. "Therefore" (Exodus 20:11, R.S.V.) He blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it.

Here we have the solemn proclamation of a specific creation on one hand, and the erection of a majestic monument, a memorial festival, on the other. The fact of creation was not to be forgotten. The Creator and the Lawgiver are one and the same Person. The proclamation of God's great rest, made graciously available to man is a command having full authority behind it. It is not a "mere theory", but a most personal intervention. God has come into man's world, and He has come to stay. This is an event of the highest contingency.

What do I here mean by a "contingent" event? At first views that may not impress all readers as a very positive or a very proper term. For in traditional thinking "contingent" is understood as the opposite of "necessary". And in what sense--one may certainly ask--should God's intervention in instituting the Sabbath not be a necessary one?

That is here a momentous question. Let me answer it summarily at first: The intervention was not necessary in the "hard" and negative sense of automatic. "Contingent" here acquires a definitely favorable connotation. It actually stands for a conception of God which pervades the entire Old Testament, as well as the New Testament. It constitutes a striking contrast to all pagan cosmology and theology. It implies nothing less than a deliberate personal planning on the part of a God who consciously and spontaneously--and most lovingly--intervenes.

The concept is a tremendously important one. So I do wish I had a more popular term for it. I have none. So I ought rather to try and do my best to explain the one I do have.

DESTINY CONTINUED

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