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By A Moralizing Layman.
My
Dear Readers:—You will find in the 51st Psalm, 12th verse, the following
words: “Oh, create for me a new heart, and renew within me the spirit of
rectitude.”
And
I have selected them as the theme for my present discourse unto you. The
entreaty which the text offers is so applicable to every condition of
mankind, so forcible in its character, that we may search in vain for its
equal throughout that Holy Book which has been given to us for our guide
heavenward. Convinced of the sinfulness of our native state, we are
sensible of the importance of a reformation, and when we shall have
realized the consummation of the desire which it breathes, we shall have
achieved all the happiness which we can anticipate in this world of cares
and troubles. Paramount to the observance of laws and ordinances is the
conviction of the necessity of this change—for there is no efficacy in
the repetition of prayers spoken by the undulations of the tongue, whilst
our souls fail to carry up to heaven those pure and holy aspirations which
there alone find entrance. Let me ask you, my readers, to reflect on the
composition of your heart to search into the recesses of that mysterious
spring of your impulses, and to draw forth into the glaring brightness of
truth all the depravity of its form and substance. Brethren, how vanity
and pride, ignorance and unbelief, passion and prejudice, have overrun and
absorbed it until no clean spot is visible where all should be purity! and
if your conscience can behold with unprejudiced view the corruption with
which it teems, your soul, alarmed for its safety, would cry aloud
frequently and earnestly, in the words of the text, “Oh, create for me a
new heart, and renew within me the spirit of rectitude.”
But,
my dear readers, our defects and infirmities are not visible to our own
ken, and of the evil of our hearts few of us have cognizance. The
delinquencies of our transgressions find extenuation in the force of
circumstances, and we smother conscience by an appeal to necessity. Whilst
we assert that self-preservation is the first law of nature, we transgress
and abrogate every other precept in the fulfilment of this compendium of
our moral obligations. Some conceive this to be religion; but I believe it
to be the very antithesis.
Where shall we then look for pure faith? Not in a
religion based upon fear; whose offerings are rendered as a continued
propitiation in appeasing the vengeance of offended laws, and holding its
tenure in the hope of obtaining pardon by intercession for daily
transgressions; but in a faith based upon a pure love for God, giving to
the Creator the whole heart of man, reverencing holy things, obeying his
statutes, and pouring forth praises and gratitude for the blessings
enjoyed; in a word, loving God for his own sake. Grant that
you are constant in your attendance at Synagogue, that you repeat the
prayers which the holy men of our nation have dictated, that you make the
responses in their proper places, that you conduct yourselves whilst there
with decorum and seriousness, but the observance of all these constitutes
but a small portion of true religion; for whilst in the holy place your
heart and thoughts may be absent, concerned about other and worldly
things, and then it is in vain that you would seek to feel that purity and
holiness which should be the sole companions of true religion. Doubtless
you imagine, when you are engaged in the duties of prayer, that you are
animated to it by good and holy impulses, and I would not seek to destroy
an illusion so consoling and gratifying; but it might be asked whether
some selfish incentive did not exist. Some secret hope for health, for
success, for worldly happiness, may, perhaps, be found lurking beneath,
colouring your devotion in all its phases, in which the love of God finds
no common interest.
Whilst your lecturers from the reading desk would
impress upon you the necessity of the observance of laws and precepts,
they should also teach that these were but secondary to the great effort
of rendering the heart pure and the spirit holy. The first task
accomplished, the language of exhortation would no longer be necessary;
for the desire to do God’s pleasure would render every action of life a
faithful record of the fulfilment of his commandments. It is not my desire
to enter into any examination as to what extent the rigid observance of
the written laws of God is necessary to constitute true religion; but I
believe it to be a safe and orthodox doctrine to conceive that the good
of all nations will be blessed. If this be so, the threshold of religion
is purity of heart.
When
we come, then, to investigate our condition, and find so little innate
purity, and ascertain that our souls are constantly seeking after evil:
how can we look for the indwelling of the spirit of love except through a
revolution in our natures? Covered as we are with the garb of pride, and
deceit, and selfishness, there must be a radical change before we can hope
to realize holiness and purity. I speak in general terms, for I know not
where to look for a single exemption from their influence. Deceit is
practised so commonly by all the world that it is but little regarded as a
sin. Whilst you are manifesting publicly feelings foreign to your private
sentiments, whilst you are sharing pleasure where you secretly feel
aversion, whilst you are counterfeiting continually the genuine feelings
of your heart, you can surely recognise this chief essential of your
nature. And although the smoothness and pleasure of social intercourse are
aided by this practice, surely there are none of you who will defend it as
a concomitant of religion. As to pride, that is also evident. When I
beheld any of you willing to descend to those beneath you in the walks of
life, seeking in that sphere for associates and companions, and
disregarding the factitious circumstances which have elevated some and
depressed others; when I witness the dismantling of that cloak which wraps
you in supercilious arrogance above your fellow-creature, whose only crime
is misfortune and poverty: then will I hold you guiltless; but if I know
human nature, in this respect we are very culpable. But should you prove
so far perfect as to be exempt from these engrossing and common sins of
deceit and pride: how will you respond to the charge of selfishness? of
self-idolatry, which claims the worship of all your thoughts, which
extorts schemes from the intellect, having in view self-aggrandizement
only, which renders you envious of your neighbour’s prosperity, and
males you unwilling to sacrifice your own comfort for the relief of a
fellow-being; a feeling which tinges every action of your life, marks
every sentence that you utter, and has become the goal of your existence?
You may equivocate and seek by speciousness to cover and hide these
corrupt spots, but they still have an existence, festering in their
corruption; and where they abide no true religion can find a
resting-place. I have spoken of these sins, because they are common to us
all, and because their existence is incompatible with true holiness; but
there are some who have, beyond all these, some darling vice, and space
would fail if I undertook to specify the “besetting sin of each one of
you.” It were in vain to plead in defence of these evil inclinations,
that these defects are inherent in our nature; for, although “we are
conceived in sin and shapen in iniquity,” yet the duties enjoined upon
us teach us to abandon the paths of wickedness, and seek those of purity
and holiness. You cannot urge in the extenuation of crime the early period
of its inception.
It
is my desire and intention to be very brief, briefer, perhaps, than the
nature of the subject demands; but I know that prolix discourses are not
popular. I can readily imagine, too, that these remarks will pass by most
of you untouched; for it were indeed wonderful, if you could be so
conscious of your own state as to perceive at once their application. My
object will have been fully accomplished if I can arouse you only in a
slight degree to undertake the examination of your own natures. Actuated
by a feeling of pure zeal, in behalf of a religion, brought by
indifference into the doors of the chamber of death, I wish once again to
awaken those pristine feelings, which, in years long past, and now
venerated, shed so bright a glory upon the pages of our history. I desire
again to renew in your souls the spirit of that love for God and your
fellow-creatures, which shall prove a solid foundation and a firm reliance
for every hope which you may indulge, every aspiration you may utter. I
desire to bring you nearer unto God. And for the present, I bid you
farewell.
D.
Kislev,
5606.
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