The Parables of Our Lord | Page 4

of inferential analogy, although in nine of their qualities they are
wholly dissimilar, if they resemble each other in one, and that the
quality with respect to which the comparison is instituted. Again,
although two objects be similar in nine of their properties, and
dissimilar only in one, no useful analogy can be instituted between
them if the object for which the comparison is made save with respect

to the one point in which they are dissimilar. An acquaintance with
such simple rudiments would go far to correct blunders both in the
construction and the exposition of analogies.
In suggesting probabilities and throwing out lines of inquiry, analogy is
of unspeakable value in every branch of science; in sacred apologetics
its specific use is to destroy the force of objections which may be
plausibly urged against facts or doctrines otherwise established; but it is
as an instrument for explaining, illustrating, fixing, and impressing
moral and spiritual truth that we are mainly concerned with it here.
God's word is as full of analogies as his works. The histories, offerings,
and prophecies of the Old Testament are figures of better things which
have been brought to light by the gospel. The lessons of the Lord and
his apostles teem with types. Almost every doctrine is given in
duplicate: the spirit is provided with a body; a body clothes the spirit.
Every fruitful vine has a strong elm to which it clings; every strong elm
supports a fruitful vine.
One important use of analogy in moral teaching is to fix the lesson on
the imagination and the memory, as you might moor a boat to a tree on
the river's brink to prevent it from gliding down during the night with
the stream. A just analogy suggested at the moment serves to prevent
the more ethereal spiritual conception from sliding out of its place.
In practical morals analogy is employed to surprise and so overcome an
adverse will, rather than merely to help a feeble understanding. In this
department most of the Lord's parables lie. When a man is hardened by
indulgence in his own sin, so that he cannot perceive the truth which
condemns it, the lesson which would have been kept out, if it had
approached in a straight line before his face, may be brought home
effectually by a circuitous route in the form of a parable. When the
conscience stands on its guard against conviction you may sometimes
turn the flank of its defences unperceived, and make the culprit a
captive ere he is aware. The Pharisees were frequently outwitted in this
manner. With complacent self-righteousness they would stand on the
outside of the crowd, and, from motives of curiosity, listen to the
prophet of Nazareth as he told his stories to the people, until at a

sudden turn they perceived that the graphic parable which pleased them
so well, was the drawing of the bow that plunged the arrow deep in
their own hearts.
A man may be so situated that though his life is in imminent danger, he
cannot perceive the danger, and consequently makes no effort to escape.
Further, his mind may be so prejudiced that he still counts the beam on
which he stands secure, although a neighbour has faithfully given
warning that it is about to fall; it may be that because he stands on it he
cannot see its frailty. Let some friend who knows his danger, but
wishes him well, approach the spot and hold a mirror in such a position
that the infatuated man shall see reflected in it the under and ailing side
of the beam that lies between him and the abyss. The work is done: the
object is gained: the confident fool, made wise at length, leaps for life
upon the solid ground.
Although the faculty of perceiving and understanding analogies is
inherent in humanity, and consequently co-extensive with the race, it is
developed in a higher degree in some persons and in some communities
than in others. The common opinion, that the inhabitants of
mountainous countries possess this faculty in a higher measure than the
inhabitants of the plains, seems to be sustained by facts. Within the
borders of our own island it is quite certain that the Scotch and the
Welsh employ figures more readily and relish them more intensely than
the English. How far the difference may be directly due to the physical
configuration of the country cannot perhaps be accurately ascertained;
but doubtless the mountains contribute indirectly to the result, by
rendering access more difficult, and so producing a greater measure of
isolation and simplicity.
It is an acknowledged and well-known fact, moreover, that the
inhabitants of eastern countries are more prone to employ figurative
language than the peoples of western Europe; but it is difficult