The following is a condensation and revision of the article “Conflict of Loyalties”, by H. Whittaker (The Testimony, Vol. 38, No. 454 — Oct. 1968 — pp. 377-380).

It was the time of the great reformation that the zeal of Hezekiah had set going. The appeal had gone out to all the tribes of Israel, regardless of boundaries or political loyalties, that they come up to Jerusalem to keep the Passover after the manner of their fathers. And although the messengers of the king had met with much derision and contempt, there were also many in the region of Galilee who responded and came with gladness to join in their new surge of godliness.

But there were hindrances of many kinds, with the result that it was not found possible to hold the Feast at the normal time — the fourteenth of the first month. However, the Law of Moses provided for a second celebration a month later (a kind of supplementary Breaking of Bread!) for the benefit of those who were unclean through contact with the dead or who were away on a journey when the proper time came round. Strictly speaking, neither of these “exceptive clauses” applied to these latecomers from the north. Even less were they a valid excuse for the people of Judah and Jerusalem.

Nevertheless the Feast went forward in the second month with zeal and rejoicing. It was not that king or priests or people were ignorant of what the Law lay down. There was no disposition to cover up or evade the technical infringement with any kind of clever argument. Rather, the issue became quite simply this: ‘Is it better for us and more to the honor and glory of God that we keep the Passover with an irregularity of procedure, or that we do not keep it at all this year?’ Faced with this alternative — especially in such circumstances — the proper decision was obvious.

Yet it was not to be denied that some commandment of the Law was infringed. Had they desisted altogether, still the Law said that the Passover must be kept. Had they kept it in the second month, then they were found guilty of appropriating to themselves the concessions of Numbers 9:10 which clearly did not apply in their case. Also, many of those coming from the north were not ceremonially purified to keep the Passover (2 Chron. 30:18). Here the Law was infringed again in unmistakable fashion. Yet the Feast was kept,

“for Hezekiah prayed for them, saying, ‘The good Lord pardon every one that prepareth his heart to seek God, the Lord God of his fathers, though he be not cleansed according to the purification of the sanctuary’, and the Lord hearkened to Hezekiah, and healed the people.”

None would dispute that, infringements and irregularities aside, Hezekiah and the people did the right thing — or, rather, the best thing possible — in the circumstances.

This kind of tension between two conflicting laws and principles of God’s appointing, both of which apply in a given case, is not uncommon. It happened under the Law of Moses, as for example the dilemma of circumcision on the eight day when it chanced to fall on a Sabbath; Jesus entered into several controversies between the traditional interpretations of the Sabbath law and his own greater law of loving service to mankind.

Similar situations are not unusual in the life of the disciple today. If a young Christadelphian is commanded by his unbelieving parents to miss the Breaking of Bread so as to accompany them on a visit to an aged relative, which commandment does he break: “Do this in remembrance of me”, or “Honor thy father and thy mother”?

Is it right to buy some magazine which will further one’s study of the Signs of the Times if this means giving indirect support to some unrighteous cause which that publication happens to advocate?

Should an ecclesia spend thousands of dollars on the purchase of a fine organ to enhance its worship and praise of God if a quarter of its members believe that this money should be devoted instead, say, to the Bible Mission?

We begin to see now the bearing of the foregoing considerations on the vexed question of fellowship. Without any doubt, division and fragmentation arise because brethren resolve in different irreconcilable fashion yet another conflict of principles:

‘Here is the beginning of apostasy,’ says one; ‘I cannot with clear conscience belong to a community which tolerates such denials of truth; no matter what the cost, the Faith must be kept pure.’ And he gathers round him some of like persuasion and goes away to make a fresh, clean start — until the day when a like situation recurs once more, and then the process begins all over again.

Says another: ‘Here is teaching which grieves me very much and which may well show itself ultimately to be destructive of our Faith. I do not like it. I am worried by it. Then I must do all in my power to counteract it. Since my brethren who are in a better position than I to exercise a good influence do nothing about it, ought I not to withdraw for the sake of purity of the Faith? But then, there is also my responsibility to the rest who do not assess the situation as urgently as I do. These sheep, what shall they do? Have I no duty to them, to nurture and guide and warn them?’

Thus the conflict rages in the minds and hearts of faithful men. Undefiled separateness? Or love of the brethren in time of difficulty? This is the great issue. How is it to be resolved? Some have one solution, some another, and the outcome is mutual recrimination and division. Stark tragedy!

What, then, is the right way, and therefore the best way, to resolve this greatest of all spiritual contests for the loyalty of the believer? Whatever decision is reached, it is almost certain that a serious disadvantage will be involved. One evaluation, however, seems quite suitable in facilitating our choice, and this is the test of Jesus: “By their fruits ye shall know them.”

Apply this test, then, to the “purity-at-all-costs” school of thought. What fruits have been gathered from this tree? The largely unchallenged assumption that root-and-branch disfellowship en masse is demanded by the Bible has left a phenomenal trail of Christadelphian wreckage scattered across the past century. Even at the present day several small boats toss on the waves, when united effort to manage one adequate vessel and keep it seaworthy would be an obvious policy of sanity. More than this, an invariable result of every crusade of every secessionist has been a long-sustained campaign of harsh criticism and self-righteous censure against those from whom the separation has been made. “By their fruits ye shall know them!” What a contrast with Daniel who, belonging to a nation hardened in apostasy and riddled with guilt, prayed for them and for himself as though he shared their sin and their condemnation.

So the “separatist” solution has been weighed in the balances and found wanting. But the more “broad-minded” school of thought may also be lacking when “fruits” are considered, for false teachers if allowed to run wild do damage to others as well as themselves, and the lines of demarcation between Truth and Error may become blurred.

Is there an alternative to either of these extremes? As long as an ecclesia holds to a true foundation of faith, that ecclesia should not be abandoned. There may be unfaithfulness latent in any ecclesia, but if the formal basis of fellowship is sound, then as long as faithful brethren exist there, they should continue an unfaltering witness against error. This was the function of the prophets in a decadent Israel, and the counsel of the apostles to ecclesias with doctrinal and moral problems in the first century.

Such an attitude of mind and the solution here proposed can hardly be altogether satisfactory to the out-and-out idealist, but like Hezekiah he must learn to make the best of imperfect situations. The great evils are schism and apathy. Let us shun both, and choose instead the middle road, of loving, careful, unceasing entreaty and witness for truth. If we do this then we have the assurance that Hezekiah had, that God will pardon the failings of those who prepare their hearts to serve Him, even though their service may prove less than perfect.

The parables of Christ are beautifully polished jewels, which present an infinite variety of sparkling views. Many lessons both broad and subtle may be suggested from their reverent contemplation. For our purposes one lesson stands out in the parable of the pounds.

Brother John Carter has incisively noted (Parables of the Messiah, p. 258) that, in contrast to the talents of a similar parable (Matt. 25:14-30), the pounds were distributed evenly to a large company — indicative of the gift of the gospel itself, bestowed equally upon all who hear. Each recipient was instructed by the nobleman to occupy himself by making gain of his gift. What concerns us especially is the subsequent attitude and actions of the unfaithful servant, of whom we read in Luke 19:20,21:

“And another came, saying, ‘Lord, behold, here is thy pound, which I have kept laid up in a napkin: For I feared thee, because thou art an austere man: thou takest up that thou layedst not down, and reapest that thou didst not sow.’ ”

This servant no doubt had the cleanest pound of all, but it had not grown! He had not been totally indifferent to his lord’s gift, but his fear of failure had compelled him carefully to “protect” his pound. So he had wrapped it in a cloth and laid it up in some safe place, perhaps checking it from time to time, maybe even bringing it out, like some housewives do with fine silver, to polish and admire it.

Our attitude toward the Gospel truth that we have received can be similar to the attitude of this man. If we are fearful that we may “lose the Truth” and conscious only of “keeping the Truth pure”, then we are in danger of forgetting what we are told to DO with it! The gospel is not a frail greenhouse flower that must have just the right temperature and humidity, and just the correct amount of light and water in order to survive. The gospel is very hardy; it is meant like the pound to be carried into the “market” of life, to the highways and byways, and to make gain for its user. We need have no fear for the Truth itself — it springs from God and is impervious to corruption. We must only be careful that we put it to the use for which it is intended.

This same point is subtly made in other parables of Christ — for example, the parables of the sower and the wheat and tares (see Chapter 4 of this book). Is it enough that we as husbandmen of the Lord’s “field” be concerned with the uprooting of “weeds” or “tares”? Is it enough that we keep the field “pure”? There must be at least as much effort — and more, much more — directed toward the positive endeavor of sowing the seed. The farmer expects some imperfection in his field, and he puts up with it, knowing that his paramount interest must be in the production of grain. The harvest is soon enough for the last weeds or tares to be separated from the good grain.

It is so simple when we see it this way. But how many frustrated “sowers” have consumed their lives in the Truth in worry and agitation about the “purity” of the “field”, so to speak, and never gotten around to their real duty? Let us strive for a proper balance in our service in the Truth, lest our intolerable and unbalanced attitude condemn us outright before our Judge (Luke 19:22).

James calls Elijah “a man of life nature with ourselves” (5:17, RSV), and nowhere is this more evident than in Elijah’s confrontation with God on mount Horeb. This austere prophet had just been instrumental in a great victory for the honor of the Lord over Baal, on mount Carmel (1 Kings 18). But from the heights of spiritual exaltation Elijah was plunged into the depths of despair when he realized that his great accomplishments had not softened the heart of Ahab, and had served only to intensify Jezebel’s hatred for himself. Fleeing for his life, and yet in his despondency losing all desire to live, he came into the wilderness, to Horeb (19:8). In a pathetic prayer Elijah reveals that he has given up on Israel, and that he sees himself as the only true believer remaining:

“I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thy altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away” (v. 10).

We have all heard such laments as this, generally for much less reason than Elijah’s. In the circumstances we may understand his pessimism, but God saw fit to dispel the mistaken notions that led to his negative state of mind. A contemplation of this incident might also cure the state of mind of any brother who, more or less self-righteously, isolates himself from ‘less worthy’ brethren.

God called Elijah forth from his cave, and paraded before him a tremendous panorama of His power — strong winds, earthquake, and fire. But the Lord was not in these; Elijah saw that something was missing. At last came a still small voice, and Elijah, bracing himself, came out of the cave where he had fled for fear at the previous manifestations. The soft voice had a soothing effect; now at last the frightened prophet felt, when he heard it, the presence of God. Thus was the message driven home to him: God is best known, not in works of judgment, but in the still small voice which calls His people, when properly prepared by adversity, to repentance.

And Elijah was to be that voice!

“Go, return on thy way” (v. 15).

Like Samuel before him, Elijah was carefully taught that wickedness is primarily an affront against God, not against any individual (1 Sam. 8:7); and consequently no man (no matter how “righteous”) has any prerogative to turn his back on his brethren. Elijah must minister to the remnant that remains in Israel; in the midst of gross apostasy he is not to flee in fear, but rather to stand firm for God and provide a rallying point for the sheep of Israel.

“Yet I have left me seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal, and every mouth which hath not kissed him” (v. 18).

How seriously wrong had been Elijah’s estimation that there were no righteous ones remaining in Israel. He had let his despair get the better of his judgment and he had forgotten his responsibility. It was one thing to stand strong against entrenched error on Carmel, but he had not been perceptive enough to see his duty afterward, to strengthen those who remained faithful against the evil in the midst of the nation.

This verse is cited by Paul in his letter to the Romans, with the comment that “God hath not cast away his people” (Rom. 11:2). It is a thought worth remembering for all time: God knows in every age who His “seven thousand” are. In many Scriptural lessons He directs those who would flee in despair from troubles to turn around, to “go, return on thy way”, to find their brethren and strengthen them. Those who would hold firmly to the Truth in the midst of trials must combine their forces, strengthening and building up one another in God’s service, sharing in good times and bad the fellowship of the saints.

Many critics do not regard these verses as authentic, but despite all the official doubts there are voices to be heard in their favor. Strong arguments have been advanced on both internal and external grounds, which are summarized elsewhere (John Carter, The Gospel of John, pp. 100,101; C.C. Walker, “The Woman Taken in Adultery”, The Christadelphian, Vol. 70, No. 831 — Sept. 1933 — pp. 405,406). The words of Jesus reported therein ring true and consistent both with the immediate context and the more general teachings of his ministry.

Jesus was teaching in the temple precincts one morning when a band of scribes and Pharisees thrust themselves through the crowd, dragging with them a terrified woman, whom they flung at the Master’s feet. They reminded him of the law of Moses, requiring stoning for the offence of adultery, and also that this woman was apprehended in the very act. What does this new Rabbi have to say? Will he agree with Moses or, as rumored by those who have heard his teaching, will he throw over the revered traditions and laws of the fathers? It is Jesus, not the woman, who is on trial this day; how will he respond?

The first reaction of Jesus was to stoop down and write on the ground, apparently indifferent to their demands. But his crafty enemies were not to be ignored or put off; they pressed him again and again for an answer. But the answer they finally received came as a bombshell or, more precisely, as a searchlight from the “Light of the World” (v. 12) to reveal their innermost thoughts, their consciences stained indelibly with sin.

“He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone” (v. 7).

The burden of decision, with its consequent dangers, which these men had sought to thrust upon Jesus, was now placed squarely on their own shoulders. The law specified that the witnesses be the first to lift up the hand in punishment of a convicted sinner. Not only was this so but, by implication from the Law at least, such hands must be innocent of the same offence. It is reported that the first-century Jews, even those most devout for the Law, were notorious in their disregard for the sanctity of marriage, and divorces were granted for the most trivial of reasons. The Mosaic law in this regard had long fallen into disuse, and such punishments as they argued for here were no longer meted out. In fact, they would have been prohibited by the Romans at any rate.

Jesus put a sword with two edges in the hands of the woman’s accusers; should they lift it up against the adulteress they would also cut down themselves. That “first stone” is not in the world yet, if Christ’s condition be required. Only one man could have cast that stone, but he chose not to do so. The Light of the World had come, and his light shone in the darkness. Assuredly that penetrating light would reveal many works of darkness, no less the Pharisee’s subtlety and hatred than the woman’s immorality. But Jesus had come to offer life; the pronouncement of death for those who reject his offer was yet in the future.

He stood up and searched the faces of these rulers of Israel who had stooped so low. His eyes burned into them and they felt the disapproval of this man’s perfect holiness. Then he bowed again to write upon the ground. He had not accused them, but had left them to decide. They watched him as he wrote, conscious that at any moment he could stand up again to challenge any one of them, and they would have no defense. Silently, each man in turn confessed his own guilt by departing, “beginning at the eldest, even unto the last” (v. 9).

“That last phrase is an interesting one….The older we get the more experienced we become, and the more conscious we are of the scope and content of sin. Often when we read and hear of the sins of others we are conscious that our guilt is as great as theirs. For us, circumstance has not provided the occasion for the ‘very act’, or in the case of some has even provided a cloak for sin. So, with the scribes and Pharisees, it was the older and more experienced, the Gamaliels, who first turned away, and it was the young Zealots, the Sauls amongst them, who finally bowed their heads and left” (A. Ashton, “Neither Do I Condemn Thee”, The Christadelphian, Vol. 105, No. 1248 — June 1968 — p. 247).

Now, finally, Jesus stood again. The crowd, transfixed by the spectacle, remained awaiting an outcome. The poor bedraggled woman, her shame revealed to all, was still there where her accusers had cast her. But they were gone. Jesus now fixes his stare upon her. “Is there no man here to condemn thee?” They had all faded away as mists at the rising of the sun. “No man, Lord.” No witnesses remained to the crime, none willing to cast “the first stone”. “Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more” (v. 11).

The word for “condemn” here is katakrino, which signifies a formal passing of judgment. It was at this time the sole province of the Sanhedrin, supported and often restricted by the Roman rulers, to pass such judgment. Jesus had recently spoken of the Father committing all judgment to the Son (John 5:22), and it was so. The power was there, both moral and physical, to punish sinners; but the authority had not yet been assumed. For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world (easy though it would have been!), but that the world through him might be saved (John 3:17). This was the great message of light and comfort and hope; it is the message we must share with one another and take to the world today. Christ does not condone sin — that lesson is plain from the incident too — but today, this age, is the “day of salvation”, not the “day of condemnation”. Those who persist in sin, with disregard to the holiness of Christ, will meet their fates soon enough without the intervention of their own imperfect brethren.

“This incident has proved invaluable in Christian history. It is a graphic exposition of the Master’s words on the mount, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged’ (Matt. 7:1-5). However damning the evidence may be against our brother, if we pause and look into our own hearts, we shall go quietly away and leave him with his Lord. There are times when it becomes necessary to take action, but that action must not be taken because we have condemned our brother. It will be taken in the painful consciousness of our own unworthiness, and with a love which will plead intercession before the Throne of Grace. We shall wait with eagerness for the first signs of penitence so that we can joyfully restore the erring one to the fellowship of the saints” (M. Purkis, A Life of Jesus, p. 235).

“The greatest abhorrence of sin is not necessarily found in the one who is most severe on the sinner. Sinful men wanted to stone the sinful woman. It was the perfect man who saved her. In these days many of the brethren seem to think that if it is admitted that any members have sinned, the only logical course is to withdraw from them, while anyone who has reservations as to the correctness of such severity must be regarded as a partaker of the evil deeds and should be treated in like manner. There is no justification for such ideas in the Bible” (I. Collyer, An Appeal to Christadelphians, p. 5).

An appealing final thought arises in relation to this incident. The adversaries of Christ were insidious, and it is almost certain that secret inquiries had been made into his early life and that the peculiar circumstances of his begettal had been uncovered. This would naturally suggest to the minds of his foes the possibility of illegitimacy. This “secret”, as they saw it, might be exploited to discredit the dangerous teachings of the man. It is possible, then, to see this whole incident as contrived by the Lord’s enemies. The woman was caught in the very act, but where was the man? Perhaps he was even one of the conspirators, who enticed and compromised a betrothed woman (Deut. 22:23,24) only as a pretense for his friends to confront Jesus.

So if Jesus had said, “Yes, let her be stoned”, the retort would have immediately come back: “Then what should be done with your mother?” — for Mary had been a betrothed virgin at the time of his conception (Matt. 1:18,19).

Other such base insinuations, in this very chapter, may be seen in the same light: “Where is thy father?” (John 8:19), and “WE be not born of fornication” [as some are!] (v. 41).

Let us leave this account then with this final point for meditation. When we are hasty in seeking out “stones” to cast at our brethren, let us remember that many men have been unjustly accused, and that appearances are often deceiving! (Christ himself died as a “criminal”!) How childishly wrong we can be in our blusterings against the “sins” of others, when we cannot possibly know all the attendant facts. Better to leave such matters to the One who is without sin, the One who can and will judge perfectly when the time comes, and from whose eyes no sin whether open or secret can be hid.

A certain Levite and his concubine were traveling through the land of Benjamin, and as night approached they sought and received shelter in the home of an old man of Gibeah. But when the house was beset by certain “sons of Belial”, evoking unpleasant memories of the Sodomites (Gen. 19), they realized how unsafe they were. This Levite allowed his concubine to be abused by the Benjamites — a circumstance which speaks not much better of him than of those who threatened him.

Finding the woman dead in the morning, he took her body and divided it into twelve pieces and sent the pieces into all parts of Israel. Then all the children of Israel were gathered together “as one man” (20:1,8,11) out of revulsion at this hideous crime. By a comparison with 1 Samuel 11:7 we see that the people did not so act again in unison until the days of Samuel, probably 300 years later.

But their unity of action was unfortunately not preceded by consultation with God. The militia of the eleven tribes, minus Benjamin — 400,000 strong — made their plans without prayer. Though they finally asked of God who should go up first to the battle, yet their forces lost 22,000 men at the hands of the men of Benjamin, who defended Gibeah. This certainly implies that guilt in Israel was to be found on both sides, not only with Benjamin.

By various stratagems that need not be detailed now, the tribe of Benjamin was nearly annihilated. Once bloodshed started no one knew when to stop. In cutting off those who were guilty by their association, the rest of Israel used highly unsuitable methods and almost totally destroyed one of the twelve tribes. The punishment, because of haste and probably a measure of self-righteousness, was out of all proportion to the crime. In their zeal the men of Israel imposed by an oath a strict isolation upon those few Benjamites who remained, no matter what their degree of guilt or complicity.

The outcome was a terrible feeling of remorse, and some ironic words:

“O Lord God of Israel, why is this come to pass in Israel, that there should be today one tribe lacking in Israel?” (21:3).

The fault was their own, in going too far in their zeal for purity, and the decimation of Israel, on both sides, was their punishment. Finally the leaders of this bitter civil war realized that they had indeed overstepped the bounds of reason. They now took some distinctly unusual steps, involving reprisals and kidnappings, to remedy, insofar as possible, the problem.

By these events the whole nation was disciplined and humbled and made to remember their essential unity as a nation, a unity that even extreme sins on the part of some should not be allowed to violate. Human nature has not changed from that day to this, and we often act still as though there is “no king in Israel”. We need as a brotherhood to remember that each of us shares in the same inheritance (21:17), and that we must with care and patience remove the defects of the body. Otherwise, the sword we lift up against our brethren may do irreparable harm to the whole house of Israel.

Surely, in our quest for deeper understanding of the man Jesus and his message, something is to be learned from the people with whom he frequently came in contact. It is fair to say that these were not usually such as would have graced the finer synagogues of his day; nor, we might add, would their modern counterparts be immediately welcome in many of our ecclesial halls. This comes across rather impressively in catalogue form:

(1) Lepers: “And there came a leper to him, beseeching him and kneeling down to him….’If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean’ ” (Mark 1:40).

“The leper, in accord with the strict conditions of the law, should not have been so close. With torn garments and disheveled hair he should have gone around crying ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ (Lev. 13:44,45), and he should have dwelt alone. The stern requirements of hygiene caused the Israelites to deny their camp in the wilderness to those in this condition (Num. 5:2). That the man came so close is a mark, not of callous dis- regard of the law, but of the supreme confidence which knew that he would do no injury to the Lord, while the Lord could, if he would, confer cleansing on him. Jesus, on his part, accepted the position without embarrassment, and acted with the same assurance. To touch a leper was to contract defilement; but for the Lord to do so was to bring cleansing without himself suffering any harm” (A.D. Norris, The Gospel of Mark, p. 21).

(2) The Samaritan woman and her neighbors (John 4:1-42): Even the woman at the well recognized that the Jews customarily had no dealings with the Samaritans (v. 9). To the legalistically devout this was all too literally true; the gospel record finds an exact parallel in the well-reported sayings of the rabbis: “May I never set eyes on a Samaritan!” or “May I never be thrown into company with him!” It was said that to partake of their bread was like eating swine’s flesh (A. Edersheim, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, Vol. 1, p. 401). Most Israelites, in traveling between Judea and Galilee, went miles out of their way, circling through Perea, to avoid traversing the loathsome land of Samaria. How this gives weight by contrast to the statement of John, that Jesus “must needs go through Samaria” (v. 4). Not only did Jesus disregard the traditional proscriptions of the land of the Samaritans, but also it was necessary that he go there! And necessary that he wait at the well, and necessary that he ask drink of the woman (unthinkable to a Pharisee), and necessary that he remain in their city two days (v. 40) to bring to their thirsty lips the true water of life.

(3) The infirm man at the pool of Bethesda (John 5:1-9):

“High on the hill of Zion the immaculately robed priests observed the temple ritual, aloof and impersonal. In the shadows of its walls the halt, the blind and the withered waited for the movement of the water” (M. Purkis, A Life of Jesus, pp. 86,87).

Among them was a certain man with an infirmity of 38 years’ duration (v. 5). By the law such a man, if a descendant of Aaron, would be prohibited from all official duties (Lev. 21:17-23). Extreme body blemishes would exclude any Israelite from the congregation of the Lord (Deut. 23:1). And so the “pure and undefiled” of Israel went their way to the Temple services, oblivious of the poor, suffering scraps of humanity who clung superstitiously to the hope of healing at the pool. Where did the Master’s steps turn, upward to the beautiful ritualized service of Herod’s house, or downward to the miserable exiles of Bethesda? The true scene of his ministry was not among the subtle analysts of the law but in the midst of suffering, diseased, afflicted mankind, those who needed a redeemer.

(4) The harlot, “a woman in the city, which was a sinner” (Luke 7:37): So astounding was Jesus’ acceptance of this harlot’s approach and service, that his host Simon the Pharisee thought surely he could not be a prophet or else he would push her away and revile her for her sins (v. 39). He knew so little of the spirit of the Saviour! Do we know more?

(5) The lunatic (Mark 5:1-21; Matt. 8:28-34; Luke 8:26-40): Christ and his disciples came to the shore at Gergesa, on the east side of the Sea of Galilee, in Decapolis. And there met them out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit. Here was a man expelled from all society by his condition (insanity), his appearance (nakedness), and his abode (the tombs). Yet Jesus approached him, spoke to him, even bearing with his fantasies, healed him, and gave him of his own garments (an unproven suggestion, but quite probable, and filled with wonderful typical significance)! So impressed, however, were those of the neighborhood that they begged him to leave (Mark 5:17); a man who consorted with such men as “Legion” could certainly be no friend of theirs.

(6) The woman with the issue of blood (Mark 5:25-34): Here was another condition which, like leprosy, rendered the sufferer unclean (Lev. 15:19-30). As Jesus went on his way, she pushed her timid way through the crowd: “If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.” This was the reverse of the legal restriction, which should have been: ‘If I touch his garment, he will be unclean also.’ How great was her faith! She knew what manner of man Jesus was: a man who could touch the unclean, and yet remain pure; a man whose law superseded that of Moses; a man to whom mental impurity was far worse than legal defilement.

(7) Gentiles: Of several examples, we note here the case of the Syrophoenician woman (Mark 7:25,26; Matt. 15:21-28). Coming on the heels of the Lord’s discourse about the true source of defilement (Mark 7:1-23; Matt. 15:1-20), and in disregard for the traditions of the elders, this incident in which Jesus heals the daughter of the Gentile woman thus carries extra significance. Though the woman was not a Jew, her faith exceeded by far that of Jesus’ countrymen. As in the other cases we have noted, an external condition of separation was of no consequence to him who came to save the “world” and to call sinners to repentance.

(8) Publicans: Two of this hated class figure prominently in the gospels: Zaccheus, “chief among the publicans” (Luke 19:2), and one of the twelve, Matthew (Matt. 10:3; Luke 5:27). These servants of the Roman oppressors were held in such low esteem generally that the word “publican” had become practically synonymous with “sinner” (Matt. 9:11; Mark 2:16; Luke 5:30). Yet Jesus found friends among this class; perhaps some real-life publican was the model for the Lord’s account of contrasting prayer styles, for the admonition of those who “trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others” (Luke 18:9-14).

On the opposite side, we have the rabbinical attitude toward the publicans: They were excluded from being judges and witnesses in legal affairs. They were seen as a criminal race, to which Leviticus 20:5 applied (about those who committed “whoredom with Molech”). It was said that there never was a family which numbered a tax-collector in which all did not become such. And they were seen as so evil that it was permissible for the righteous to lie to them to protect their property from taxation (Edersheim, op. cit., p. 516).

(9) The dead (Mark 5:35-43; John 11:1-46; Luke 7:14): Here was the ultimate defilement, the dead body (Lev. 21:1; 22:4; Num. 5:2; 9:6,10); even from this Christ did not shrink. We know he could raise the dead by a word, as he did with Lazarus. But he did not hesitate to take the dead daughter of Jairus by the hand (Mark 5:41). His was the “personal touch” of sincere love. As always, it seems, the consequences of legal “uncleanness” were ignored as irrelevant beside the greater issues of his ministry. The Lord of life came near to death, partaking of mortality, bearing the burdens of those who grieved and the curse of the law, “tasting death” on behalf of all men.

By contrast with all of the above, we find the Lord, so kind and gentle on most occasions, becoming openly aggressive in censuring the moral defilement of those who were most scrupulous to avoid legal defilement. Surely, we are tempted to think, this very “religious” (even if misguided) class deserved more diplomatic treatment at his hands. But no figure of speech was too drastic for Christ to use: They were whited sepulchres, full of dead men’s bones (Matt. 23:27,28; Luke 11:44); cups clean on the outside, but filled with extortion and rapacity (Matt. 23:25; Luke 11:39). The reason? It may be said there are many, for the list of charges against the Pharisees is long and varied (Matt. 23:3-7,16-18,25-29,34), but certainly one reason is this: that it is dangerous to find satisfaction in any physical separation from “defilement”. “I thank thee, God, that I am not as other men” (Luke 18:11) is no basis on which to build one’s faith.

To go about preoccupied with the “sins” of others, ever mindful of how their shortcomings may reflect upon us by association, is to fight a “paper tiger”, while the true enemy goes free. “Let a man examine himself” (1 Cor. 11:28). Those things which are outside the man cannot defile him, but that which comes out of the man, from a self-righteous heart, defiles the man (Mark 7:18,20).

Brethren, how far are we really removed from the foolish prejudices and traditions of the Pharisees? Have we altogether reversed Christ’s standards, downplaying his emphasis on moral defilement — in a slow drift into the world’s thinking — and seeking to cover our inadequacies by an undue concern for legal “defilement”? We vicariously associate, through television and other media, with the worst the “world” has to offer by way of movie “stars”, sports “heroes”, and rock musicians; and, unconsciously perhaps, we absorb the spirit of this licentious and materialistic age. Then we dress in our finest clothes and drive our new automobiles to places of worship on Sunday morning, where we meticulously draw our “skirts” about us and withhold the Bread and Wine from someone who is just slightly too “sinful” or not quite well enough “informed” for our standards (‘We thank thee, Lord, that we are not like these other men’), and somehow we feel that in this we are doing God service.

We must be careful that the means by which all believers are commanded to remember the Lord’s death until he returns does not become a ritual, with supposed efficacy in the object itself, by which we establish our “purity” in a negative sense. “Negative holiness” can save no man. Neither can the proximity of a “sinner”, even one so close as to partake of the same cup, endanger our “fellowship” with one who was ever and always the friend of “sinners”, who embraced lepers and lunatics, harlots and dead bodies — yet in the best sense was still “holy, harmless, and undefiled” (Heb. 7:26).

Again, we come in our survey to a passage which critics of our viewpoint would argue has “nothing to do with fellowship”. And in one sense they would be correct. The word itself does not appear at all in the chapter. But the best students of the Bible must agree that, in the close study of any divine subject, the more broadly based our conclusions are, the better. The All-wise Father does not teach His children by simple assertion only; if He did, then our Bible would need be no more lengthy than our Statement of Faith. But He teaches us also by type, parable, history, prophecy, and example. Foremost among the examples given for our instruction is His only-begotten Son. The example of Christ’s sacrificial life, culminating in a cruel, lingering death, speaks volumes to the reflective soul concerning “fellowship”. We might even say that “fellowship” is the main theme of Isaiah 53, for it tells us of Christ’s sharing, his partaking of our infirmities.

Isaiah 53 is a mountain peak of God’s Word. I will not attempt an exhaustive, or even a brief exposition of the chapter as a whole. This has been done very ably by others, and their efforts will be well-known to most. Let us simply consider the chapter as it relates to our fellowship experiences and responsibilities, as a moral issue and not a “theological” one (in the common sense of the word).

No man of faith can stand before the cross. It is perpetually holy ground — this mysterious place of meeting between God and man. The perceptive disciple approaches the mercy seat on his knees; he finds there no place to display his own strength or wisdom or cleverness. All the qualities that develop pride in natural man are driven from him further and further with each blow of the hammer upon the Roman spikes. As his awareness deepens, he must finally acknowledge that the cross of Christ has become, not a set of logical premises to be thrown back and forth in legalistic debate, but rather a moral mandate. As the rising of the sun drives away the darkness and creates each day a new world, God’s love for man as demonstrated in Christ’s death and resurrection forever changes the spiritual landscape for the believer. Every issue of his life must now be viewed in the peculiar divine glow emanating from Golgotha.

And thus our fellowship, with the Father and the Son and with one another, is seen against the background of Christ’s sacrifice. Here is the practical expression of his fellowship with us, his brethren. This should be our example of action toward one another.

To those of us who have been accustomed to read Isaiah 53 as related only to the last day or so of our Savior’s mortal life, the quotation in Matthew 8:16,17 comes as quite a surprise:

“When the evening was come, they brought unto him many demoniacs…. and he healed all that were sick: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaiah the prophet, saying, ‘He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.’ ”

Surely these verses are telling us that Christ’s sympathy for poor suffering humanity was an intensely personal feeling. We can imagine no stronger words to convey the closeness, the unity, the fellowship of suffering. Here is no theoretical transferal of guilt or sin-effect; there is no ritual, no ceremony about it — it is real, as real as it can be! This man was one of us. He stood before the tomb of a friend and shed real tears. Our weaknesses were his… are his still, this high priest who was touched so deeply with the sensation of our infirmities, and who carried it with him into the most holy place. For our griefs are his, our sorrows also. For us he was willing to die; for us, finally and conclusively, he did die. And not just for “us” as a whole or a concept or an abstraction, but… this is the real wonder…. he died for each one of us! Had there been only one sinner, Christ would have still been willing to die. When each of us stands before the judgment seat, he will be looking into the eyes of a man who gave his life, personally and individually, for him.

Yes, it truly is a marvel: The Savior of mankind suffered for sinners. For the man who blasphemed God’s Holy Name, Christ spent sleepless nights in prayer. For the man who coveted, and even took, his neighbor’s wife, Christ denied himself all fleshly indulgences. For the man who in hot anger or cold hatred slew his brother, Christ bore the Roman scourge that tore his flesh and exposed his bones and nerves. And for us, “righteous” as we might be in the ordinary “middle-of-the-road” sense, but sinners at heart if we would but admit it, consumed with petty jealousies and grumblings, unthankful, lazy, and often indifferent — yes, for people like us — Christ, the holiest of all men, groaned and bled and died.

What does it really mean, to bear the griefs and sorrows of another? As exemplified in Christ, it was more, much more, than a mechanical “burden-bearing”. It was a “living sacrifice”, a way of life that denied the lusts of the flesh within himself, while at the same time loving and striving continuously for the well-being of his brethren who could not, or did not, so deny themselves. And when they failed, and failed miserably, he bore with their failures and never gave way to “righteous”, condemning anger — but only expressed sorrow and gentle rebuke. Was there ever such a man? “For even Christ pleased not himself” (Rom. 15:3).

“The Lord hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all.” “He was wounded for our transgressions.” Here again we Christadelphians so quickly lapse into the “technical” aspects (the word here almost seems sacrilegious) of Christ’s sacrifice. We carefully point out that Christ did not bear the guilt of our sins, and that he did not die in our stead. And there is nothing wrong with saying such things, in their proper place. But, is it not possible that we are missing the main point? Call it what you will, hedge it about with exceptions and careful definitions, when all is said and done, HE DID DIE — and that is the important issue!

Let us be careful here; let us examine ourselves. In our zeal for “truth”, are we so caught up in the theory that the fact is almost ignored? Do we suppose that when we have explained, in man’s imperfect language, why Christ died, on a legal basis — that our conception of the cross is complete? No, brethren. This man died because he loved to the uttermost his brethren. Here is the lesson. Christ’s way of life, the “fellowship” he practiced in regular interaction with his brethren, is the challenge to us. Do we perceive that love as an impossible theory — or as a reality, to be reproduced and practiced by us, here and now? Our Savior calls us, he commands us, he entreats us, insofar as we can, to do as he did. He sets before us an ecclesial life of difficulties, of sorrows, of problems — and he tells us: ‘Bear the infirmities, even the iniquities of your brethren. I died for them; you must live for them. I did not please myself; neither should you. They are all worth saving, they are all worth loving, they are all worth your sacrifices and prayers — or else none of you are worth it! If you really believe in my love, then you must believe that your ecclesial problems can be solved — and that love is the key to their solution.’

We break bread and drink wine as a memorial of our fellowship with God through Christ. We do not earn this right; it is a profound privilege and a gift, earned by the sufferings of Christ. It is given freely to sinners, if they will only believe. A fine record of outstanding accomplishment, accompanied by perfect purity of doctrine (remember our “brother” the Pharisee who prayed in the temple!), will not earn us eternal life. The spirit that compasses sea and land to bring division between brethren of Christ for the smallest hint of a cause will not earn eternal life, no matter how zealously exercised that spirit is!

“He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good, and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” (Mic. 6:8).

Having considered in detail the passages most relevant to Biblical fellowship, we now examine those that might be placed under the heading of “Biblical dis-fellowship”. Perhaps we can determine, from a review of both sets, how far we may reasonably go, and where we may reasonably stop, in our demands upon our fellow-believers. These passages are grouped under the heading OBJECTIONS because those who would most object to the general drift of this study to this point would no doubt quote such verses in counter-argument. I feel that these “dis-fellowship” passages have been seriously misused by many Christadelphians. They have been “wrested”, in some cases, out of their quite restricted contexts and made to do duty that the inspired writers never intended. The extent of these misinterpretations will be apparent as we continue.

It is worthy of note that the idea of disfellowship, or excommunication, of many ecclesias worldwide for the sins or supposed sins of those in one corner of the world is often confidently advanced under the umbrella of “the overall teaching of the Old Testament”. Such passages as Deuteronomy 17:2-7 (the idolator’s punishment); 18:9-12 (the elimination of false religions); 20:16 (Canaanite abominations); and Joshua 7 (Achan and the Babylonish garment) are cited to support the like treatment of those who espouse wrong ideas today in spiritual Israel.

The difficulties in such a generalization are manifold. In the first place, New Testament fellowship should be established and controlled on the basis of New Testament passages. It would be a very easy matter to produce a number of plainly absurd conclusions by applying the same methods to other Old Testament passages. For examples, should arranging boards recommend the stoning of “Sabbath-breakers”? What should believers do today, preach the love of Christ and the coming kingdom of God to their more-or-less “heathen” neighbors, or launch military campaigns against them?

Secondly, the great principles of God are fundamental and eternal — we are speaking of the majestic themes of Scripture, such as the covenants of promise, light and darkness, love and hate, and the holiness of God — but the personal applications vary enormously from time to time. Our twentieth-century ecclesial leaders do not have the inspired wisdom that the apostles and many of their co-workers had in the first century. It must not be forgotten that the “general teaching” of the Old Testament was the application of sound principles to changing circumstances by men inspired by God. These men, like Moses, were directly and explicitly commanded, when God judged the time as ripe, to punish evildoers. A close parallel between those days and ours is clearly impossible.

Even such Old Testament “retributive” passages as listed above do not go so far as to require the “elimination” of those otherwise righteous worshipers of God whose only “sin” was living side by side with such as Baal-worshipers. Yet the principle of worldwide fellowship responsibility, to be proven, would necessitate some such Mosaic precedent as the annihilation of entire villages, the worshipers of the Lord along with those of Baal, simply because they did not act against the error in their midst. And, even if this sort of reasoning be allowed thus far, which is without Scriptural precedent, should the next village over the hill be similarly destroyed for failure adequately to “police” its neighbor town?

Perhaps the best argument against such an exaggerated view of fellowship responsibility is one that has already been mentioned elsewhere; yet it is so important that a second reference would not be out of place. Where the prophets of Israel witnessed against the spiritual abuses among their contemporaries they did so while still continuing full fellowship with those whom they denounced. More than this, the examples of Moses (Exod. 32:30-33), Daniel (9:5-14), Nehemiah (1:6,7), Jeremiah (3:25; 9:1), and Ezra (9:6,7,13) show these men intimately associated with the people whom they reprimanded, even so far as confessing the sins of the nation as though they were their own. Here is the spirit of true fellowship, or sharing, by which those most exercised against error bear the burdens of their brethren, and strive with them as partners — not outsiders — to defeat the enervating effects of sin. Such a policy stands, with God’s blessing, a chance of success. But the opposing policy condemns from the beginning innocent and guilty alike, and invariably fails in the object it purportedly seeks — that is, the elimination of error; for who ever gives serious attention to those who “walk out”? By all standards of law, both human and divine, such “deserters” forfeit any voice in the affairs of the enterprise. Who welcomes, or even listens to, the advice of those on the outside looking in? Imagine a brother who, finding his neighbor’s ox in the ditch (Deut. 22:4), stands carefully aside but generously gives constant directions to the sorely-beset owner as to how to extricate his animal. And James similarly tells of the rather impractical (to say the least!) character who says to the cold and hungry, “Be ye warmed and filled” (2:16), but cannot bring himself to become “involved” enough to really help.

A final point completely overturns any appeal for severity to the general Old Testament teachings. It is this: the Lord was in unbroken “fellowship” with the nation of Israel from the time He brought them out of Egypt until Ezekiel’s day. This is proven by the presence of the “Shekinah” glory, leading the people by cloud and fire through the wilderness, and afterward enthroned in tabernacle and temple. The nation was from time to time filled with the grossest abominations, with widespread indifferent to the prophets’ messages, and with every other imaginable sin. God’s messengers were incessant in their demands for reform; but no matter how evil the nation, a righteous remnant always remained and consequently the nation was preserved. Its “fellowship” with God was only withdrawn when His glory was seen departing by stages from the Temple on the eve of Jerusalem’s captivity (Ezek. 9:3; 10:4,18,19; 11:23). Until then, no matter how imperfect their service, Israel remained in communion with God. Thus, if anything may be learned of the general principles of fellowship from the Old Testament, it is that it was never lightly withdrawn from those who bore the name of God — as has been done in His Name, and often for the flimsiest of reasons, by more than a few modern believers.

“If there come any unto you, and bring not this doctrine, receive him not into your house, neither bid him God speed: For he that biddeth him God speed is partaker of his evil deeds” (vv. 10,11).

Without attempting a complete exposition of this letter, it should be noted that John was addressing an unnamed sister and mother in the Truth, one in whose home the ecclesia of that district met. In her kindness the “elect lady” (v. 1) had offered her hospitality to certain traveling preachers who could scarcely, if at all, be called Christian.

What was the doctrine so heinous as to merit the title for its purveyors of “antichrist” (v. 7)? It was the erroneous contention that Jesus did not “come in the flesh”, in other words, that he was in essence God and only seemed to suffer the frailties of humanity and the climactic death on the cross. The apostle rightly saw this as a significant perversion of the gospel, which effectively nullified all else of truth to be found in the itinerant speakers’ message. He therefore counseled the sister not to receive such men into her house nor, by implication, to receive them at the Breaking of Bread held there. They were to be shunned completely.

The question is this: Was such a prohibition intended to apply, as a general rule, to any and every irregularity of belief or practice, whenever and wherever manifested? The answer is, emphatically, “No”. The particular error in 2 John is said to be that of “anti-Christ”, etymologically signifying that which replaces or stands as a contrast to the true Christ. The name seems to be reserved for those errors which deny the nature and character of Christ (1 John 2:18,22; 4:1-3), thereby rendering unintelligible his redemptive work.

A passage from Robert Roberts is often quoted to justify the disfellowship of everyone that might, mistakenly or otherwise, bread bread with some individual who believes any error. Brother Roberts says, among other things:

“As to those who bring not this doctrine, John’s comment is — ‘Receive him not into your house, neither bid him God speed!’ This commandment we can no more evade than any other commandment delivered unto us.”

The citation is certainly forceful enough as it stands to support most any wide-scale excommunication of individuals and ecclesias alike. However, the effect is drastically mitigated when a portion of the immediately preceding paragraph is also quoted:

“The doctrine of Christ is that he is God made and manifested in mortal flesh of Abraham’s race for the deliverance thereof, on his own principles, from ‘that having the power of death’ ” (Seasons of Comfort, p. 98).

It was to such as “bring not this doctrine” (according to both John Thomas and Robert Roberts), and to such only, that the extremely harsh directive of the apostle should apply.

The sweeping use to which our brother’s words are often put is specifically denied by him in another passage. There he speaks of “fellowship” on far more practical, reasonable, and (we might say) spiritual grounds than some of his “followers” would care to admit:

“Fellowship is friendly association for the promotion of a common object — with more or less of the imperfection belonging to all mortal life. To say that every man in that fellowship is responsible for every infirmity of judgment that may exist in the association is an extreme to which no man of sound judgment can lend himself. There will be flawless fellowship in the perfect state. Perhaps it is the admiration of this in prospect that leads some to insist upon it now. But it is none the less a mistake. This is a mixed and preparatory state in which much has to be put up with when the true principles are professed” (“True Principles and Uncertain Details”, The Christadelphian, Vol. 35, No. 407 — May 1898 — p. 187).

In reviewing verse 10, other points of interest emerge:

“If there come any unto you…” —

These verses clearly refer to some serious error introduced into one’s local ecclesia. They give no sanction to the searching out of alleged error in other ecclesias, much less those which are great distances away, on the basis of some rumor.

“And bring not this doctrine” —

These deceivers were active, positive false teachers, engaged in a campaign, not just “holders” of false doctrine or those who might be termed “weaker brethren” or “honest doubters”, who should be sought after and reclaimed.

“Neither bid him God speed” —

“God speed” was an unfortunate choice by the translators of the AV, a choice which has colored much of subsequent Christadelphian analysis of this passage. Brother Roberts equates “God speed” with “intimacy, toleration, and cooperation” (The Law of Moses, p. 285); this may be implicit in the text, but it is certainly not the primary meaning. The Greek word is chairo — which merely means “greeting” or “farewell”; it is so used many times in the New Testament (Matt. 26:49; 27:29; Luke 1:28; John 19:3; Acts 15:23; 2 Cor. 13:11; James 1:1). It may also mean “to rejoice” (Matt. 2:10; John 3:29; 16:22; Rom. 12:12; 2 Cor. 6:10; Rev. 19:7).

This presents us with a couple of alternative views of the passage:

(1) These false teachers’ doctrine was so extremely dangerous that they could not even be greeted courteously, nor be given the most elementary considerations due even to out-and-out worldlings, much more to “erring brethren”. Such a view, in conformity with our understanding of this special doctrine, thus removes this passage from serious consideration as a guideline to ecclesial duties toward most other, milder forms of error. Would any “minority fellowship” brethren seriously want to adopt such an attitude toward all other Christadelphians? The otherwise unanimous view of the apostolic passages regarding errorists is that they are to be gently entreated, and diplomatically led away from their follies. So we have here in 2 John a unique case, and consequently one which gives no real precedent for lesser issues.

(2) The second possibility, much less likely, is this: If the word chairo here signifies “to rejoice”, then that which designates brethren “partakers of the evil deeds” of gross errorists is their rejoicing in that evil — that is, wholeheartedly approving of and positively participating in the propagation of error. This is not to suggest that something less, say a passive toleration, is proper — it may be wrong too, depending on circumstances — but only that it is not the “partaking” or “fellowshiping” of the error which some interpreters would have it to be.

Therefore, no matter which of the two interpretations of “God speed” be chosen, the verse is not that clear-cut directive to the “block disfellowship” of all that break bread with one false teacher. Even if the elders of an ecclesia should decide to tolerate the membership of one holding false doctrine, it cannot be said that members of that ecclesia who continue to use every opportunity to expose and denounce his errors are “bidding him God speed” or “partaking of his evil deeds”. To say that they are is a travesty of language. The situation has been known a hundred times over that something done or said by a brother has been openly disapproved of by the rest of his ecclesia without excommunication being applied. At times the simpler expedient of removing such a brother from all speaking and teaching duties has allowed him the scope to recover his spiritual balance and forsake his error.

Brother Roberts’ understanding of “God speed” certainly conforms to this. He says:

“If men lend themselves to the evil projects of others and wish them well in them, no doubt they are as responsible for those projects as if they actually promoted them with their own personal labours. This is the principle to which John gives expression when he says, ‘He that biddeth him (the holder of false doctrine) God speed is partaker of his evil deeds’ “ (“True Principles and Uncertain Details”, pp. 187,188).

The problem in a single-minded reliance on this passage to justify wholesale separation is evident when the effects are fully considered. It is self-evident that an interpretation of a passage that “proves” too much actually proves nothing at all — for then there is surely something wrong with that interpretation. This is so with an unbalanced view of 2 John 10,11: (1) If merely refusing to punish error is “bidding God speed” to it, then was Christ a “partaker of the evil deeds” of the adulteress when he said, “Neither do I condemn thee”? (2) Should brethren hold themselves to be “partakers” and thus personally guilty of every aberration or “sin” of every brother or sister in their “fellowship”? This is perceived as sheer folly when examples are considered. Suppose, for example, one brother in your worldwide fellowship — only one — smokes; suppose another, but only one, occasionally drinks to excess. Now you yourself never touch tobacco or liquor of any sort. Are you nevertheless a “partaker” of these things, and many more, because you endure these brethren in your “fellowship”? In short, is a brother really the sum of all the worst parts of all his weakest brethren? Such ill-founded logic must be our conclusion if we apply 2 John 10,11 to any and every ecclesia situation.

Two short quotations from John Thomas would seem to go well here:

(1) Of the correspondent who accused him of being a “slave owner”, he wrote:

“His argument is that in fellowshipping slave owners, and those who fellowship them, the parties so fellowshipping them are partakers with them of their evil deeds; and therefore as much slave owners and slave holders as if they actually held and drove them. The argument is specious but not sound” (The Herald, 1851, p. 204).

(2) And again:

“The salvation of individuals is not predicated on the purity of their neighbour’s faith, though these may be members of the same ecclesiastical organization” (Ibid., p. 120).

In conclusion: 2 John 10,11 appears to be the only passage in the Bible which puts “tolerators” on the same ground of condemnation as the “false teachers” themselves. We have shown that, for the purposes of condemning those who “bid them God speed”, this passage proves either too little (for the context is quite specialized) or too much (thus making us all “partakers” of every “evil” to be found in our midst). The wisest course would appear to be that we leave 2 John alone as “pure fellowship” justification, and that we turn our attentions to other passages which may give more solid footing, and practical limitations as well, for Biblical “disfellowship”.