THE MAN OF SIN
2Th 2:1-5 (R.V.)
IN the first chapter of this Epistle Paul depicted the righteous
judgment of God which accompanies the advent of Christ. Its terrors
and its glories blazed before his eyes as he prayed for those who
were to read his letter. "With this in view," he says, "we also
pray always for you, that our God would count you worthy of the
calling." The emphatic word in the sentence is "you." Among all
believers in whom Christ was to be glorified, as they in Him, the
Thessalonians were at this moment nearest to the Apostle’s heart.
Like others, they had been called to a place in the heavenly
kingdom.; and he is eager that they should prove worthy of it. They
will be worthy only if God powerfully carries to perfection in them
their delight in goodness, and the activities of their faith. That
is
the substance of his prayer. "The Lord enable you always to have
unreserved pleasure in what is good, and to show the proof of faith
in all you do. So you shall be worthy of the Christian calling, and
the name of the Lord shall be glorified in you, and you in Him, in
that day."
The second chapter seems, in our English Bibles, to open with an
adjuration: "Now we beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord
Jesus Christ, and by our gathering together unto Him." If that were
right, we might suppose Paul’s meaning to be: As you long for this
great day, and anticipate its appearing as your dearest hope, let me
conjure you not to entertain mischievous fancies about it; or, as
you
dread the day, and shrink from the terrible judgment which it
brings,
let me adjure you to think of it as you ought to think, and not
discredit it by unspiritual excitement, bringing reproach on the
Church in the eyes of the world. But this interpretation, though apt
enough, is hardly justified by the use of the New Testament, and the
Revised Version is nearer the truth when it gives the rendering
"touching the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ." It is of it the
Apostle wishes to speak; and what he has to say is, that the true
doctrine of it contains nothing which ought to produce unsettlement
or vague alarms. In the First Epistle, especially in chap. 5, he has
enlarged on the moral attitude which is proper to those who cherish
the Christian hope: they are to watch and be sober; they are to put
off the works of darkness, and put on, as children of the day, the
armour of light; they are to be ready and expectant always. Here he
adds the negative counsel that they are not to be quickly shaken
from
their mind, as a ship is driven from her moorings by a storm, nor
yet
upset or troubled, whether by spirit or by word or letter purporting
to be from him. These last expressions need a word of explanation.
By
"spirit" the Apostle no doubt means a Christian man speaking in the
church under a spiritual impulse. Such speakers in Thessalonica
would
often take the Second Advent as their theme; but their utterances
were open to criticism. It was of such utterances that the Apostle
had said in his earlier letter, "Despise not prophesyings; but prove
all that is said, and hold fast that which is good." The spirit in
which a Christian spoke was not necessarily the spirit of God; even
if it were, it was not necessarily unmixed with his own ideas,
desires, or hopes. Hence discernment of spirits was a valued and
needful gift, and it seems to have been wanted at Thessalonica.
Besides misleading utterances of this kind in public worship, there
were circulated words ascribed to Paul, and if not a forged letter,
at all events a letter purporting to contain his opinion, none of
which had his authority. These words and this letter had for their
substance the idea that the day of the Lord was now present—or, as
one might say in Scotch, just here. It was this which produced the
unspiritual excitement at Thessalonica, and which the Apostle wished
to contradict.
A great mystery has been made out of the paragraph which follows,
but
without much reason. It certainly stands alone in St. Paul’s
writings, an Apocalypse on a small scale, reminding us in many
respects of the great Apocalypse of John, but not necessarily to be
judged by it, or brought into any kind of harmony with it. Its
obscurity, so far as it is obscure, is due in part to the previous
familiarity of the Thessalonians with the subject, which allowed the
Apostle to take much for granted; and in part, no doubt, to the
danger of being explicit in a matter which had political
significance. But it is not really so obscure as it has been made
out
to be by some; and the reputation for humility which so many have
sought, by adopting St. Augustine’s confession that he had no idea
what the Apostle meant, is too cheap to be coveted. We must suppose
that St. Paul wrote to be understood, and was understood by those to
whom he wrote; and if we follow him word by word, a sense will
appear
which is not really questionable except on extraneous grounds. What,
then, does he say about the delaying of the Advent?
He says it will not come till the falling away, or apostasy, has
come
first. The Authorised Version says "a" falling away, but that is
wrong. The falling away was something familiar to the Apostle and
his
readers; he was not introducing them to any new thought. But a
falling away of whom? or from what? Some have suggested, of the
members of the Christian Church from Christ, but it is quite
plain from the whole passage, and especially from ver. 12 f., that
the Apostle is contemplating a series of events in which the Church
has no part but as a spectator. But the "apostasy" is clearly a
religious defection; though the word itself does not necessarily
imply as much, the description of the falling away does; and if it
be
not of Christians, it must be of the Jews; the Apostle could not
conceive of the heathen "who know not God" as falling away from
Him. This apostasy reaches its height, finds its representative and
hero, in the man of sin, or, as some MSS. have it, the man of
lawlessness. When the Apostle says the man of sin, he means the
man, -not a principle, nor a system, nor a series of persons, but an
individual human person who is identified with sin, an incarnation
of
evil as Christ was of good, an Antichrist. The man of sin is also
the
son of perdition; this name expressing his fate—he is doomed to
perish—as the other his nature. This person’s portrait is then drawn
by the Apostle. He is the adversary par excellence, he who sets
himself in opposition, a human Satan, the enemy of Christ. The other
features in the likeness are mainly borrowed from the description of
the tyrant king Antiochus Epiphanes in the Book of Daniel: they may
have gained fresh meaning to the Apostle from the recent revival of
them in the insane Emperor Caligula. The man of sin is filled with
demoniac pride; he lifts himself on high against the true God, and
all gods, and all that men adore; he seats himself in the temple of
God; he would like to be taken by all men for God. There has been
much discussion over the temple of God in this passage. It is no
doubt true that the Apostle sometimes uses the expression
figuratively, of a church and its members—"The temple of God is
holy, which temple ye are"—but it is surely inconceivable that a
man should take his seat in that temple; when these words were
fresh,
no one could have put that meaning on them. The temple of God is,
therefore, the temple at Jerusalem; it was standing when Paul wrote;
and he expected it to stand till all this was fulfilled. When the
Jews had crowned their guilt by falling away from God; in other
words, when they had finally and as a whole decided against the
gospel, and God’s purpose to save them by it; when the falling away
had been crowned by the revelation of the man of sin, and the
profanation of the temple by his impious pride, then, and not till
then, would come the end. "Do you not remember," says the Apostle,
"that when I was with you I used to tell you this?"
When Paul wrote this Epistle, the Jews were the great enemies of the
gospel; it was they, who persecuted him from city to city, and
roused
against him everywhere the malice of the heathen; hostility to God
was incarnated, if anywhere, in them. They alone, because of their
spiritual privileges, were capable of the deepest spiritual sin.
Already in the First Epistle he has denounced them as the murderers
of the Lord Jesus and of their own prophets, a race that please not
God and are l contrary to all men, sinners on whom the threatened
wrath has come without reserve. In the passage before us the course
is outlined of that wickedness against which the wrath was revealed.
The people of God, as they called themselves, fall definitely away
from God; the monster of lawlessness who rises from among them can
only be pictured in the words in which prophets portrayed the
impiety
and presumption of a heathen king; he thrusts God aside, and claims
to be God himself.
There is only one objection to this interpretation of the Apostle’s
words, namely, that they have never been fulfilled. Some will think
that objection final; and some will think it futile: I agree with
the
last. It proves too much; for it lies equally against every other
interpretation of the words, however ingenious, as well as against
the simple and natural one just given. It lies, in some degree,
against almost every prophecy in the Bible. No matter what the
apostasy, and the man of sin, are taken to be, nothing has ever
appeared in history which answers exactly to Paul’s description. The
truth is that inspiration did not enable the apostles to write
history before it happened; and though this forecast of the
Apostle’s
has a spiritual truth in it, resting as it does on a right
perception
of the law of moral development, the precise anticipation which it
embodies was not destined to be realised. Further, it must have
changed its place in Paul’s own mind within the next ten years; for,
as Dr. Farrar has observed, he barely alludes again to the Messianic
surroundings (or antecedents) of a second, personal advent. "He
dwells more and more on the mystic oneness with Christ, less and
less
on His personal return. He speaks repeatedly of the indwelling
presence of Christ, and the believer’s incorporation with Him, and
hardly at all of that visible meeting in the air which at this epoch
was most prominent in his thoughts."
But, it may be said, if this anticipation was not to be fulfilled,
is
it not altogether deceptive? is it not utterly misleading that a
prophecy should stand in Holy Scripture which history was to
falsify?
I think the right answer to that question is that there is hardly
any
prophecy in Holy Scripture which has not been in a similar way
falsified, while nevertheless in its spiritual import true. The
details of this prophecy of St. Paul were not verified as he
anticipated, yet the soul of it was. The Advent was not just then;
it
was delayed till a certain moral process should be accomplished; and
this was what the Apostle wished the Thessalonians to understand. He
did not know when it would he; but he could see so far into the law
of God’s working as to know that it would not come till the fulness
of time; and he could understand that, where a final judgment was
concerned, the fulness of time would not arrive till evil had had
every opportunity, either to turn and repent, or to develop itself
in
the most utterly evil forms, and lie ripe for vengeance.
This is the ethical law which underlies the Apostle’s prophecy; it
is
a law confirmed by the teaching of Jesus Himself, and illustrated by
the whole course of history. The question is sometimes discussed
whether the world gets better or worse as it grows older, and
optimists and pessimists take opposite sides upon it. Both, this law
informs us, are wrong. It does not get better only, nor worse only,
but both. Its progress is not simply a progress in good, evil being
gradually driven from the field; nor is it simply a progress in
evil,
before which good continually disappears: it is a progress in which
good and evil alike come to maturity, bearing their ripest fruit,
showing all that they can do, proving their strength to the utmost
against each. other; the progress is not in good in itself, nor in
evil in itself, but in the antagonism of the one to the other. This
is the same truth which we are taught by our Lord in the parable of
the wheat and the tares: "Let both grow together until the harvest:
and in the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, Gather up
first
the tares," etc. In the time of harvest: not till all is ripe for
judgment, not till the wheat and the tares alike have shown all that
is in them, will the judgment come. This is what St. Paul
understood,
and what the Thessalonians did not understand; and if his ignorance
of the scale of the world, and the scale of God’s purposes, made him
apply this law to the riddle of history hastily, with a result which
the event has not justified, that is nothing to the prejudice of the
law itself, which was true when he applied it with his imperfect
knowledge, and is true for application still.
One other remark is suggested by the description of the character in
which sin culminates, viz., that as evil approaches its height it
assumes ever more spiritual forms. There are some sins which betray
man on the lower side of his nature, through the perversion of the
appetites which he has in common with the brutes: the dominance of
these is in some sense natural; they are not radically and
essentially evil. The man who is the victim of lust or drunkenness
may lose his soul by his sin, but he is its victim; there is not in
his guilt that malignant hatred of good which is here ascribed to
the
man of sin. The crowning wickedness is this demoniac pride: the
temper of one who lifts himself on high above God, owning no
superior, nay, claiming for himself the highest place of all. This
is
rather spiritual than sensual: it may be quite free from the gross
vices of the flesh, though the connection between pride and
sensuality is closer than is sometimes imagined; but it is more
conscious, deliberate, malignant, and damnable than any brutality
could be. When we look at the world in any given age—our own or
another—and make inquiry into its moral condition, this is a
consideration which we are apt to lose sight of, but which is
entitled to the utmost weight. The collector of moral statistics
examines the records of criminal courts; he investigates the
standard
of honesty in commerce; he balances the evidences of peace, truth,
purity, against those of violence, fraud, and immorality, and works
out a rough conclusion. But that material morality leaves out of
sight what is most significant of all—the spiritual forms of good
and of evil in which the opposing forces show their inmost nature,
and in which the world ripens for God’s judgment. The man of sin is
not described as a sensualist or a murderer; he is an apostate, a
rebel against God, a usurper who claims not the palace but the
temple
for his own. This God-dethroning pride is the utmost length to which
sin can go. The judgment will not come till it has fully developed;
can any one see tokens of its presence?
In asking such a question we pass from the interpretation of the
Apostle’s words to their application. Much of the difficulty and
bewilderment that have gathered about this passage are due to the
confusion of these two quite different things. The
interpretation gives us the meaning of the very words the Apostle
used. We have seen what that is, and that in its precise detail it
was not destined to be fulfilled. But when we have passed behind the
surface meaning, and laid hold on the law which the Apostle was
applying this passage, then we can apply it ourselves. We can use it
to read the signs of the times in our own or in any other age. We
may
see developments of evil, resembling in their main features the man
of sin here depicted, in one quarter or another, and in one person
or
another; and if we do, we are bound to see in them tokens that a
judgment of God is at hand; but we must not imagine that in so
applying the passage we are finding out what St. Paul meant. That
lies far, far behind us; and our application of his words can only
claim our own authority, not the authority of Holy Scripture.
Of the multitude of applications which have been made of this
passage
since the Apostle wrote it, one only has had historical importance
enough to be of interest to us—I mean that which is found in several
Protestant confessions, including the Westminster Confession of
Faith, and which declares the Pope of Rome, in the words of this
last, to be "that Antichrist, that man of sin, and son of perdition,
that exalteth himself in the Church against Christ, and all that is
called God." As an interpretation, of course, that is impossible;
the man of sin is one man, and not a series, like the Popes; the
temple of God in which a man sits is a temple made with hands, and
not the Church; but when we ask whether or not it is a fair
application of the Apostle’s words, the question is altered. Dr.
Farrar, whom no one will suspect of sympathy with the Papacy, is
indignant that such an uncharitable idea should ever have crossed
the
mind of man. Many in the churches which hold by the Westminster
Confession would agree with him. Of course it is a matter on which
everyone is entitled to judge for himself, and, whether right or
wrong, ought not to be in a confession; but for my own part I have
little scruple in the matter. There have been Popes who could have
sat for Paul’s picture of the man of sin better than any characters
known to history—proud, apostate, atheist priests, sitting in the
seat of Christ, blasphemously claiming His authority, and exercising
His functions. And individuals apart—for there have been saintly and
heroic Popes as well, true servants of the servants of God—the
hierarchical system of the Papacy, with the monarchical priest at
its
head, incarnates and fosters that very spiritual pride of which the
man of sin is the final embodiment; it is a seedbed and nursery of
precisely such characters as are here described. There is not in the
world, nor has ever been, a system in which there is less that
recalls Christ, and more that anticipates Antichrist, than the Papal
system. And one may say so while acknowledging the debt that all
Christians owe to the Romish Church, and while hoping that it may
somehow in God’s grace repent and reform.
It would ill become us, however, to close the study of so serious a
subject with the censure of others. The mere discovery that we have
here to do with a law of moral development, and with a supreme and
final type of evil, should put us rather upon self-scrutiny. The
character of our Lord Jesus Christ is the supreme and final type of
good: it shows us the end to which the Christian life conducts those
who follow it. The character of the man of sin shows the end of
those
who obey not His gospel. They become, in their resistance to Him,
more and more identified with sin; their antagonism to God settles
into antipathy, presumption, defiance; they become gods to
themselves, and their doom is sealed. This picture is set here for
our warning. We cannot of ourselves see the end of evil from the
beginning; we cannot tell what selfishness and wilfulness come to,
when they have had their perfect work; but God sees, and it is
written in this place to startle us, and fright us from sin. "Take
heed, brethren, lest haply there shall be in any one of. you an evil
heart of unbelief, in falling away from the living God: but exhort
one another day by day, so long as it is called Today; lest any one
of you be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin."