Part IV, Chapter XLV, 3

If, then, a pastor lawfully called to teach and direct others, or anyone else held in high esteem for his knowledge, outwardly honors an idol out of fear, he scandalizes his brother by appearing to approve of idolatry, unless he makes his fear and unwillingness as plain as the act of worship. For his brother reasons from the conduct of his teacher, or of someone whose knowledge he greatly esteems, that the act is lawful in itself. This scandal is a sin, and a scandal given. But if someone who is neither a pastor nor a person eminent for knowledge of Christian doctrine does the same, and another follows his example, no scandal has been given: the other had no reason to follow it, but takes up a pretense of scandal as an excuse before men. For an unlearned man under the power of an idolatrous king or state, if commanded on pain of death to worship before an idol, does well if he detests the idol in his heart, though he would do better if he had the courage to die rather than worship it. But if a pastor, who as Christ's messenger has undertaken to teach Christ's doctrine to all nations, should do the same, it would be not only a sinful scandal to the consciences of other Christians but a faithless abandonment of his charge.

The sum of what I have said so far about the worship of images is this: whoever worships in an image, or any creature, either its matter, or a fancy of his own that he thinks inhabits it, or both together; or believes such things hear his prayers or see his devotions without ears or eyes, commits idolatry. Whoever feigns such worship for fear of punishment commits a sin if his example carries weight among his brethren. But whoever worships the Creator of the world before an image, or in a place, that he has not fashioned or chosen for himself but has taken from the command of God's Word—as the Jews did when they worshipped God before the cherubim, before the bronze serpent for a time, and in or toward the Temple of Jerusalem, also for a time—commits no idolatry.

As for the worship of saints, images, relics, and other things practiced today in the Church of Rome, I say that it is not sanctioned by the Word of God, nor was it introduced into the Church of Rome by the doctrine taught there. In part it was left there at the first conversion of the Gentiles, and afterward it was supported, confirmed, and increased by the bishops of Rome.

As for the proofs alleged from Scripture, namely the examples of images that God commanded to be set up: they were not set up for the people, or anyone else, to worship, but for them to worship God himself before them, as before the cherubim above the Ark and the bronze serpent. For we do not read that the priest or anyone else worshipped the cherubim. On the contrary, we read (2 Kings 18.4.) that Hezekiah broke to pieces the bronze serpent Moses had set up, because the people burned incense to it. Nor are those examples given for our imitation, so that we too should set up images under the pretense of worshipping God before them. The words of the second Commandment, “You shall not make for yourself any graven image, etc.,” distinguish images God commanded to be set up from those we set up for ourselves. Therefore the inference from the cherubim or bronze serpent to images devised by men, and from worship commanded by God to worship devised at men's will, is unsound. We should consider, too, that just as Hezekiah broke the bronze serpent to pieces because the Jews worshipped it, so that they would do so no longer, Christian Sovereigns also ought to tear down images their subjects have been accustomed to worship, to remove the occasion for such idolatry. For today, where images are worshipped, the ignorant people truly believe there is divine power in them; their pastors tell them that some images have spoken and bled and worked miracles. The people understand these acts to be done by the saint, whom they suppose to be either the image itself or present in it. When the Israelites worshipped the calf, they thought they worshipped the God who brought them out of Egypt. Yet it was idolatry, because they thought the calf either was that God or contained him within it. And though someone may think it impossible for people to be so foolish as to believe an image is God or a saint, or to worship it as such, Scripture plainly shows otherwise: when the golden calf was made, the people said (Exod. 32. 2.), “These are your gods, O Israel”; and the images of Laban (Gen. 31.30.) are called his gods. Daily experience also shows us, among all sorts of people, that those who devote themselves only to food and ease would rather believe any absurdity than take the trouble to examine it. They hold their faith as though it were an inalienable inheritance, except where an express new law changes it.

But from certain other passages they infer that it is lawful to paint angels, and even God himself: from God's walking in the Garden, Jacob's seeing God at the top of the ladder, and other visions and dreams. Yet visions and dreams, whether natural or supernatural, are only phantasms. Whoever paints an image of one of them makes not an image of God but of his own phantasm: he makes an idol. I do not say it is a sin to draw a picture from the imagination; but once it is drawn, to regard it as a representation of God is contrary to the second Commandment, and can serve no purpose but worship. The same may be said of images of angels and the dead, except when they serve as memorials of friends or of people worthy of remembrance. Such use of an image is not worship of the image but civil honor paid to a person who was, not one who is. But when we pay honor to an image we make of a saint only because we believe he hears our prayers and is pleased by the honor we pay him, though he is dead and without sensation, we attribute to him more than human power; and that is idolatry.

Since neither the Law of Moses nor the Gospel authorizes the religious worship of images or other representations of God that men set up for themselves, or the worship of the image of any creature in heaven, on earth, or beneath the earth; and since Christian kings, who are living representatives of God, must not be worshipped by their subjects through any act signifying a higher estimate of their power than mortal human nature can bear, we cannot imagine that the religious worship now practiced entered the Church through misunderstanding Scripture. It remains, then, that it survived there because the images themselves were not destroyed when the Gentiles who worshipped them were converted.

The reason was the excessive value and price placed on their craftsmanship. Their owners, though converted from worshipping them religiously as demons, kept them in their houses under the pretense of honoring Christ, the Virgin Mary, the apostles, and other pastors of the early Church. It was easy, simply by renaming them, to turn what had perhaps been an image of Venus and Cupid into one of the Virgin Mary and her Son our Savior, to make a Barnabas of Jupiter and a Paul of Mercury, and so forth. As worldly ambition gradually crept among the pastors, it led them both to try to please the newly converted Christians and to welcome this kind of honor for themselves after death, as others had already won it. Thus the worship of images of Christ and his apostles grew ever more idolatrous, except that some time after Constantine various emperors, bishops, and general councils recognized and opposed its unlawfulness—but too late, or too feebly.

The canonization of saints is another relic of Gentile religion. It comes neither from a misunderstanding of Scripture nor from a new invention of the Roman Church, but from a custom as old as the Common-wealth of Rome itself. The first ever canonized at Rome was Romulus, on the account of Julius Proculus, who swore before the Senate that he had spoken with Romulus after his death and had been assured by him that he lived in heaven, was called Quirinius there, and would favor the state of their new city. On this basis the Senate gave public testimony to his sanctity. Julius Caesar and later emperors received the same testimony: that is, they were canonized as saints, as the term is now defined; it is the same as the apotheosis practiced by the heathens.

It is also from the Roman heathens that the popes received the title and power of PONTIFEX MAXIMUS. In the ancient Common-wealth of Rome this was the title of the man who, under the Senate and people, held supreme authority to regulate all ceremonies and doctrines concerning their religion. When Augustus Caesar changed the state into a monarchy, he claimed for himself no more than this office and that of tribune of the people—that is to say, supreme power in both state and religion—and succeeding emperors held the same. But when Constantine lived, the first emperor to profess and authorize the Christian religion, it agreed with his profession that he should have religion regulated, under his authority, by the bishop of Rome. It does not appear, however, that those bishops so soon bore the title of pontiff. Rather, their successors seem to have taken it for themselves to lend authority to the power they exercised over the bishops of the Roman provinces. It was no privilege of St. Peter's, but a privilege of the city of Rome, which the emperors were always willing to sustain, that gave them such authority over other bishops. This is clear from the bishop of Constantinople's claim to equality with the bishop of Rome when the emperor made Constantinople the seat of the empire. At last the pope prevailed, though not without contention, and became the Pontifex Maximus, but only by right of the emperor, not beyond the bounds of the empire, nor anywhere after the emperor lost his power in Rome—even though it was the pope himself who took that power from him. From this we may observe in passing that there is no place for the pope's superiority over other bishops except in territories where he himself is the civil Sovereign, or where an emperor with civil Sovereign Power has expressly chosen the pope as chief pastor, under himself, of his Christian subjects.

Carrying images about in procession is another relic of the religion of the Greeks and Romans. They too carried their idols from place to place in a kind of chariot devoted specifically to that use, which the Latins called Thensa and Vehiculum Deorum; the image was placed in a frame or shrine called Ferculum. What they called Pompa is what is now called a procession. Accordingly, among the divine honors the Senate granted Julius Caesar was this: at the procession at the Circaean games, he was to have Thensam & Ferculum, a sacred chariot and a shrine. That amounted to being carried about as a god, just as popes today are carried by Swiss guards beneath a canopy.

These processions also included burning torches and candles borne before images of the gods, among both Greeks and Romans. The Roman emperors later received the same honor: we read that when Caligula assumed the empire, he was carried from Misenum to Rome amid a throng of people, the roads lined with altars, animals for sacrifice, and burning torches. Caracalla was received into Alexandria with incense, scattered flowers, and Dadouchiais, that is, torches; for Dadochoi were the people who carried lighted torches in the processions of Greek gods. In time the devout but ignorant people often honored their bishops with similar pomp of wax candles, and continually honored images of our Savior and the saints with them in the church itself. Thus the use of wax candles arose and was also established by some ancient councils.

The heathens also had their Aqua Lustralis, that is, holy water. The Church of Rome imitates them in holy days as well. They had their Bacchanalia, and we have our corresponding wakes; they had their Saturnalia, and we our carnivals and the freedom granted to servants on Shrove Tuesday. They had their procession of Priapus, and we our fetching, raising, and dancing around Maypoles; and dancing is a kind of worship. They had the procession called Ambarvalia, and we our procession around the fields in Rogation Week. Nor do I think these are all the ceremonies left in the Church from the first conversion of the Gentiles. They are only those I can recall at present. If someone were to attend closely to what histories tell us about the religious rites of the Greeks and Romans, I have no doubt he would find many more of these old, empty bottles of Gentile religion, which the doctors of the Roman Church, through negligence or ambition, have refilled with the new wine of Christianity—a wine that in time will surely burst them.

So suppose a Pastor lawfully appointed to teach and guide others, or anyone else widely respected for his knowledge, outwardly honors an idol out of fear. Unless he makes his fear and unwillingness as clear as his act of worship, he causes his brother to stumble by seeming to approve idolatry. His brother sees what his teacher, or a person he considers knowledgeable, does and concludes that it is lawful in itself. Causing that kind of stumbling is a sin. But suppose someone who is neither a Pastor nor particularly respected for his knowledge of Christian doctrine does the same thing, and another person follows him. He has not caused that person to stumble: the follower had no reason to copy him. Instead the follower uses the example as a pretext to excuse himself before others. Take an uneducated man subject to an idolatrous King or State who is ordered, on pain of death, to worship before an idol. If he detests the idol in his heart, he does well to comply, though he would do better if he had the courage to die rather than worship it. But if a Pastor, who has undertaken as Christ's messenger to teach Christ's doctrine to all nations, did the same, he would not only sin by causing other Christians to stumble in conscience. He would also betray and abandon his charge.

Here is the substance of what I have said so far about worshipping images. A person commits idolatry if he worships, in an image or any created thing, its material, an imagined being he thinks lives in it, or both. The same is true if he believes such things hear his prayers or see his acts of devotion without ears or eyes. Someone who imitates that worship for fear of punishment sins if his example carries weight among his fellow Christians. But a person does not commit idolatry if he worships the Creator of the world before an image or in a place he did not make or choose himself, but which God's Word commanded him to use. The Jews did this when they worshipped God before the cherubim, for a time before the bronze serpent, and in or toward the Temple of Jerusalem, which also served for only a time.

As for worship of Saints, images, relics, and other things now practiced in the Church of Rome, I say God's Word does not permit these practices. They did not arise from doctrine taught in that Church. Some remained there from the first conversion of the Gentiles, and the Bishops of Rome later endorsed, confirmed, and expanded them.

Consider the Scriptural evidence offered for them, especially images God ordered people to set up. They were not set up for anyone to worship. People were to worship God himself before them, as before the cherubim over the Ark and the bronze serpent. We never read that a priest or anyone else worshipped the cherubim. On the contrary, we read (2 Kings 18.4.) that Hezekiah smashed the bronze serpent Moses had set up because the people burned incense to it. Nor are those examples instructions for us to set up images under the pretext of worshipping God before them. The second Commandment says, “You shall not make for yourself any carved image, etc.” Its wording distinguishes images God commanded to be set up from images we set up for ourselves. We cannot validly argue from the cherubim or bronze serpent to images invented by people, or from worship God commanded to worship people choose for themselves. We must also consider that Hezekiah broke the bronze serpent because the Jews worshipped it, so they would stop. Christian Sovereigns should similarly tear down images their subjects have customarily worshipped, removing the occasion for further idolatry. Today, where people worship images, the uneducated really believe the images have divine power. Their Pastors tell them some images have spoken or bled, or performed miracles. They take these acts to have been done by a Saint whom they believe to be the image itself or to live inside it. When the Israelites worshipped the calf, they thought they worshipped the God who brought them out of Egypt. Yet it was idolatry because they thought the calf either was that God or contained him. Some may think people cannot be so foolish as to believe an image is God or a Saint, or to worship it as such. Scripture clearly says otherwise. When the golden calf was made, the people said (Exod. 32. 2.), “These are your Gods, O Israel.” Laban's images (Gen. 31.30.) are called his Gods. Daily experience with all kinds of people also shows that those who care only about food and comfort would rather believe any absurdity than trouble themselves to examine it. They hold their faith as if it were an inalienable inheritance, unless a new, explicit Law takes it away.

Others argue from certain passages that it is lawful to paint angels and even God himself. They point to God walking in the Garden, Jacob seeing God at the top of the ladder, and other visions and dreams. But visions and dreams, whether natural or supernatural, are only mental images. Anyone who paints one makes an image not of God but of his own imagined picture. That is making an idol. I do not say that drawing an imagined picture is a sin. But once it is drawn, treating it as a representation of God violates the second Commandment and serves no purpose except worship. The same applies to images of angels and dead people, except when used as memorials to friends or people worth remembering. That use does not worship the image; it gives civil honor to a person who lived in the past, rather than to a person now present. But suppose we make an image of a Saint and honor it solely because we believe the Saint hears our prayers and likes the honor we give him, though he is dead and without sensation. Then we attribute more than human power to him, which is idolatry.

Neither the Law of Moses nor the Gospel authorizes religious worship of images or other representations of God that people set up for themselves. Nor does either authorize worship of the image of any creature in Heaven, on Earth, or beneath the Earth. Even Christian Kings, who are living representatives of God, must not receive any act of worship from their subjects that implies more power than a mortal human being can have. We therefore cannot suppose the religious worship now practiced entered the Church through a misunderstanding of Scripture. It must have remained because the images themselves were not destroyed when the Gentiles who worshipped them converted.

The reason was that their owners valued the workmanship of the images too highly and paid too much for them. Although converted from religious worship of the images as demons, they kept them in their homes under the pretext of honoring Christ, the Virgin Mary, the Apostles, and other Pastors of the early Church. It was easy to give them new names. What may once have been an image of Venus and Cupid could become one of the Virgin Mary and her Son, our Savior. A Jupiter could become Barnabas, a Mercury could become Paul, and so on. Meanwhile worldly ambition gradually took hold of the Pastors. It led them to try to please the new Christians, and to welcome the kind of honor that they too could hope to receive after death, like those who had already received it. Worship of images of Christ and his Apostles thus grew more and more idolatrous. Some time after Constantine, several Emperors, Bishops, and general Councils recognized and opposed its unlawfulness, but acted too late or too weakly.

Canonizing Saints is another remnant of Gentile religion. It is not a misunderstanding of Scripture or a new invention of the Roman Church. The custom is as old as the Commonwealth of Rome itself. The first person ever canonized at Rome was Romulus. Julius Proculus swore before the Senate that he had spoken with Romulus after his death. Romulus assured him he lived in Heaven, where he was called Quirinius, and would favor their new city's State. On this basis the Senate publicly certified his sanctity. Julius Caesar and later Emperors received the same certification: they were canonized as Saints. That is what canonization now means, and it is the same as the pagans' apotheosis.

The Popes also took the title and power of Pontifex Maximus from pagan Rome. In the ancient Commonwealth of Rome, this was the title of the person who, under the Senate and people, held supreme authority to regulate all ceremonies and teachings concerning their religion. When Augustus Caesar changed the State into a monarchy, the only offices he took for himself were this one and Tribune of the People. Together they gave him supreme power in both State and religion. Later Emperors held these offices too. Constantine was the first Emperor to profess and authorize Christianity. His profession made it appropriate for him to have the Bishop of Rome regulate religion under his authority. It does not appear that the Bishops received the title Pontifex so early. Rather, later Bishops seem to have taken it themselves to bolster the power they exercised over Bishops of the Roman provinces. Their authority over other Bishops came not from any privilege of St. Peter, but from the privilege of the city of Rome, which the Emperors were always willing to support. This is clear from what happened when the Emperor made Constantinople the imperial seat: its Bishop claimed equality with the Bishop of Rome. Eventually, after a struggle, the Pope prevailed and became Pontifex Maximus. But his right came only from the Emperor. It did not extend beyond the Empire, or anywhere after the Emperor lost power in Rome, even though the Pope himself had taken that power away. We can therefore note in passing that the Pope has no standing above other Bishops except in territories where he himself is the civil Sovereign, or where the Emperor, holding civil Sovereign power, has expressly chosen him to be the chief Pastor of the Emperor's Christian subjects.

Carrying images in processions is another survival of Greek and Roman religion. They too carried their idols from place to place in a kind of chariot dedicated to that purpose, called in Latin Thensa and Vehiculum Deorum. The image was placed in a frame or shrine called Ferculum. What they called Pompa is what we now call a procession. Accordingly, among the divine honors the Senate gave Julius Caesar was the right to a Thensam & Ferculum, a sacred chariot and shrine, in the Pompa or procession at the Circaean games. That amounted to carrying him about as a God, just as the Popes today are carried by Swiss guards under a canopy.

These processions also involved carrying burning torches and candles before images of the gods, among both Greeks and Romans. Later the Roman Emperors received the same honor. We read that when Caligula took power, people carried him from Misenum to Rome through a crowd, past roads lined with altars, animals for sacrifice, and burning torches. Caracalla was welcomed into Alexandria with incense, thrown flowers, and Dadouchiais, meaning torches. Among the Greeks the Dadochoi carried burning torches in the processions of their gods. In time, devout but uneducated people often honored their Bishops with a similar display of wax candles. They regularly gave that honor to images of our Savior and the Saints inside the Church itself. That is how wax candles came into use; some ancient Councils also established the practice.

The pagans also had their Aqua Lustralis, or holy water. The Church of Rome copies their holidays as well. They had Bacchanalia; we have our wakes, which answer to them. They had Saturnalia; we have carnivals and the freedom given to servants on Shrove Tuesday. They had processions of Priapus; we fetch in and raise Maypoles and dance around them, and dancing is a form of worship. They had a procession called Ambarvalia; we have a procession around the fields during Rogation Week. I do not think these are all the ceremonies left in the Church from the Gentiles' first conversion. They are simply all I can remember now. Anyone who carefully studied the histories of Greek and Roman religious rites would, I am sure, find many more of these old, empty bottles of Gentile religion. Through negligence or ambition, the teachers of the Roman Church have filled them again with the new wine of Christianity, which will in time surely burst them.

Chapter XLVI. Of Darkness from Vain Philosophy and Fabulous Traditions