It is quite true that the ground of every one of our actions, and the validity of all our reasonings, rest upon the great act of faith, which leads us to take the experience of the past as a safe guide in our dealings with the present and the future.  From the nature of ratiocination, it is obvious that the axioms, on which it is based, cannot be demonstrated by ratiocination.  It is also a trite observation that, in the business of life, we constantly take the most serious action upon evidence of an utterly insufficient character.  But it is surely plain that faith is not necessarily entitled to dispense with ratiocination because ratiocination cannot dispense with faith as a starting-point; and that because we are often obliged, by the pressure of events, to act on very bad evidence, it does not follow that it is proper to act on such evidence when the pressure is absent.

The writer of the epistle to the Hebrews tells us that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the proving of things not seen.”  In the authorised version, “substance” stands for “assurance,” and “evidence” for “proving.”  The question of the exact meaning of the two words, [Greek:  hypostasis] and [Greek:  elenchos], affords a fine field of discussion for the scholar and the metaphysician.  But I fancy we shall be not far from the mark if we take the writer to have had in his mind the profound psychological truth, that men constantly feel certain about things for which they strongly hope, but have no evidence, in the legal or logical sense of the word; and he calls this feeling “faith.”  I may have the most absolute faith that a friend has not committed the crime of which he is accused.  In the early days of English history, if my friend could have obtained a few more compurgators of a like robust faith, he would have been acquitted.  At the present day, if I tendered myself as a witness on that score, the judge would tell me to stand down, and the youngest barrister would smile at my simplicity.  Miserable indeed is the man who has not such faith in some of his fellow-men—­only less miserable than the man who allows himself to forget that such faith is not, strictly speaking, evidence; and when his faith is disappointed, as will happen now and again, turns Timon and blames the universe for his own blunders.  And so, if a man can find a friend, the hypostasis of all his hopes, the mirror of his ethical ideal, in the Jesus of any, or all, of the Gospels, let him live by faith in that ideal.  Who shall or can forbid him?  But let him not delude himself with the notion that his faith is evidence of the objective reality of that in which he trusts.  Such evidence is to be obtained only by the use of the methods of science, as applied to history and to literature, and it amounts at present to very little.

THE CHRISTIAN TRADITION IN RELATION TO JUDAIC CHRISTIANITY [FROM “AGNOSTICISM:  A REJOINDER,” 1889]