'Ye have heard that it hath been said'—'But I say unto you.' He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.' ... 'those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem?' And then the warning words—'I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.' Warning, these last words are, and, it may be, puzzling. They seem to imply punishment, doom, in this falling of a tower, though no sinners were specially selected from others for the death it brought. What is there behind this? Let us think, and bring to bear on the problem what we have learnt about the world (and therefore about God) elsewhere. And let us consult with the Christian. He is our authority now on his own affairs, as the philosopher and the scientific man are on theirs. Well, in the first place it is plain that no one of our authorities countenances arbitrary enactment. Thus much is plain about the events of nature (usually so-called), that they are no more arbitrary than the judgements, or the punishment and forgiveness, of a just man or a just God. What we want to know is the way in which their order is related to the order of justice between persons. That a tower falls on eighteen sinners who are not worse sinners than those upon whom it does not fall looks bad for justice and consequently for love. But is it bad?
We are opening up one of the most formidable of problems. Let us bear in mind, however, that we have seen one thing precluded by the mind of Christ—a belief on our part that the man who suffers or dies from an 'accident' or catastrophe of nature is thereby pointed out as punished by God. The selective, though equally natural, punishments of God are of quite another order; they single out unerringly, with the utmost subtlety and fineness, man from man. They are determined for himself by each man; he works out his own damnation as he works out his own salvation, God working with him for both. And that is why the adjustment is so accurate between the man who will not be saved and the doom that falls upon him. The calamities of earth are far too rough and ready to be God's instruments of selection. When (or if) one Grand Duke is the sole survivor of a wrecked ship and a Te Deum is sung in thankfulness to God, the mind of Christ is ignored, his plain words are ignored. 'Think ye that this Grand Duke was a man of God above all men that were on that ship?' we hear him ask. And we do not hear him say that if we all repent we shall all likewise be rescued. The kingdom of heaven is neither bought nor sold, and no repentance will purchase safety upon earth.