Part 28 (1/2)

The eye, for example, as explained by the theory of evolution, came to its present perfection through a series of fortunate and c.u.mulative variations through successive generations.

Even in its imperfect form, it was a variation with high ”survival value.” Even when it was no more than a pigmented spot peculiarly sensitive to light, so the theory holds, it was a variation that enabled a species to survive and perpetuate its kind. Those not possessing these fortunate variations were wiped out. The process of Nature, certainly, in the development of biological life thus appears to be no economical convergence of means upon an end. Nature has been recklessly prodigal. Millions more seeds of life are produced than ever come to fruition. And only animals perfectly adapted to their environment survive, while an incomparably greater number perish.

Theology, when it incorporates science and sets itself up as a direct and factual description of the universe, thus comes sharply in rivalry with modern mechanistic science. The conflict is crucial with regard to the purpose which theology holds to be evident in the universe, and the lack of purpose, the purely blind regularity, which science seems to reveal.

The mechanical laws by which natural processes take place exhibit a fixed and changeless regularity, in which man's good or ill counts absolutely nothing. The earth instead of being the center of the solar system, is a cosmic accident thrown out into s.p.a.ce. Man instead of being a little lower than the angels is revealed by science as a little higher than the ape.

There is no s.p.a.ce in these pages to trace the various reconciliations that have been made between theology and science.

It must be pointed out, however, that Christian theology has increasingly accepted modern mechanistic doctrines, including the doctrine of evolution. But it has attempted to show that, granting all the facts of physical science, the universe does still exhibit the divine purpose and its essential beneficence.

The very order and symmetry of physical law have been taken as testimony of divine instigation. Mechanism was set in motion by G.o.d. In answer to this, it is pointed out by the non-theologian that then G.o.d's goodness cannot be maintained. Mechanical processes are indiscriminate in their distribution of goods and evils to the just and the unjust:

All this Nature does with the most supercilious disregard both of mercy and of justice, emptying her shafts upon the best and n.o.blest, indifferently with the meanest and worst; upon those who are engaged in the highest and worthiest enterprises, and often as the direct consequence of the n.o.blest acts; and it might almost be imagined as a punishment for them. She mows down those on whose existence hangs the well-being of a whole people; perhaps the prospects of the human race for generations to come, with as little compunction as those whose death is a relief to themselves, or a blessing to those under their noxious influence.[1]

[Footnote 1: Mill: _Three Essays on Religion_ (Holt), p. 29.]

Modern theology sometimes grants the apparent reality of the evils which are current in a mechanistic world, but insists that they are making for goods which we with our finite understanding cannot comprehend. Were our intelligence infinite, as is G.o.d's, we should see how ”somehow good will be the final goal of ill.”

Evolution has also been explained as G.o.d's method of accomplis.h.i.+ng his ends. By some evolutionists, Driesch and Bergson for example, evolution itself, in its steady production of higher types, has been held to be too purposive in character to permit of a purely mechanical explanation. The process of evolution has itself thus come to be taken by some theologians as a clear manifestation of G.o.d's beneficent power at work in the universe.

But theology, in the more spiritualistic religions, has always insisted on the primacy of G.o.d's goodness. There has been, therefore, in certain theological quarters the tendency to surrender the conception of divine omnipotence in the face of the genuine human evils that are among the fruits of blind mechanical forces. The idea of a finite G.o.d who is infinitely good in his intentions, but limited in his powers, has been advocated by such various types of mind as John Stuart Mill, William James, and H. G. Wells. The first mentioned of these writes:

One only form of belief in the supernatural--one theory respecting the origin and government of the universe--stands wholly clear both of intellectual contradiction and of moral obliquity. It is that which, resigning irrevocably the idea of an omnipotent creator, regards Nature and Life not as the expression throughout of the moral character and purpose of the Deity, but as the product of a struggle between contriving goodness and an intractable material, as was believed by Plato, or a principle of evil as was believed by the Manicheans. A creed like this ... allows it to be believed that all the ma.s.s of evils which exists was undesigned by, and exists not by the appointment of, but in spite of the Being whom we are called upon to wors.h.i.+p.[1]

[Footnote 1: Mill: _loc, cit._, p. 116.]

RELIGION AND SCIENCE. While there have thus been genuine points of conflict between theology and science, these are essentially irrelevant to the religious experience itself. Man is still moved by the same emotions, sensations, needs, and desires which have, from the dawn of history, provoked in him a sense of his relations.h.i.+p with the divine. There comes to nearly all individuals at some time, not without rapture, a sudden awareness of divinity.

It is the terror and beauty of phenomena, the ”promise” of the dawn and of the rainbow, the ”voice” of the thunder, the ”gentleness”

of the summer rain, the ”sublimity” of the stars, and not the physical laws which these things follow, by which the religious mind continues to be most impressed; and just as of yore, the devout man tells you that in the solitude of his room or of the fields he still feels the divine presence, that inflowing of help come in reply to his prayers, and that sacrifices to this unseen reality fill him with security and peace.[1]

[Footnote 1: James: _Varieties of Religious Experience_, p. 498.]

Modern man, just as his savage ancestor cowering before forces he did not understand, realizes sometimes--some persons realize it always--how comparatively helpless is man amid the magnificent and eternal forces in which his own life is infinitesimally set. Even when one has been educated to the sober prose of science, one feels still the ancient emotions of joy, sorrow, and regret. Birth and death, sowing and harvest, conquest or calamity, as of old, evoke a sympathetic feeling with the movement of cosmic processes. All of these emotions to-day, as in less sophisticated times, may take religious form.

Nor does the universe because we understand it better seem, to many, less worthy of wors.h.i.+p. The most thorough-going scientific geniuses have felt most deeply the n.o.bility and grandeur of that infinite harmony and order which their own genius has helped to discover. It has been well said the ”undevout astronomer is mad.” And it is not only the student of the stars who has intimations of divinity. As Professor Keyser puts it: ”The cosmic times and s.p.a.ces of modern science are more impressive and more mysterious than a Mosaic cosmogony or Plato's crystal spheres. Day is just as mysterious as night, the mystery of knowledge is more wonderful and awesome than the darkness of the unknown.”[2]

It is significant that such men as Newton, Pasteur, and Faraday, giants of modern physical inquiry, were devoutly religious.

[Footnote 2: Keyser: _Science and Religion_, p. 30.]

It would appear indeed that the objects which men revere are not the subject-matter of science. Physics and chemistry can tell us what Nature is like; they cannot tell us to what in Nature we shall give our faith and our allegiance. Religion remains, as ever, ”loyalty to the highest values of life.”

Science instead of making the world less awesome has made it more mysterious than ever. Origins and destinies are still unknown. Science tells how; it describes. It does not tell why things occur as they do; or what is the significance of their occurrence. Wors.h.i.+p can never be reduced to molecules or atoms. While man lives and wonders, hopes and fears, feels the clear beauty, the infinite mystery, and the eternal significance of things, the religious experience will remain, and men will find objects worthy of their wors.h.i.+p.

THE CHURCH AS A SOCIAL INSt.i.tUTION. Religion being so crucial a set of social habits, inst.i.tutions arise for the perpetuation of its traditions, and for the social expression of the religious life. The churches perpetuate the religious tradition in a number of ways. Fixed ecclesiastical systems, recitals and definitions of creeds, the regular and meticulous performance of rites and ceremonies, become powerful instruments for the transmission of religious ideas and standards. Rites frequently performed by men in ma.s.s have a deep and moving influence. They have at once all the pressure and prestige of custom, confirmed by the mystery and awe that attends any expression of man's relations.h.i.+p to the divine. The church, moreover, by the mere fact of being an inst.i.tution, having a hierarchy, an ordered procedure, a definite a.s.signment and division of ecclesiastical labor, becomes thereby an incomparable preserver and transmitter of traditional values.

Churches, ecclesiastical organizations in general, may be said to arise because of the necessity felt by men for intermediaries between themselves and the divine. We have already seen of what vast practical moment in savage life was communication with the G.o.ds. Upon the success of such addresses to deity, depended not only the salvation of the soul, but the actual welfare of the body--shelter, harvest, and victory. The G.o.ds among many tribes were held to be meticulous about the forms and ceremonies which men addressed to them. In consequence it became important to have, as it were, experts in the supernatural, men who knew how to win the favor of these watchful powers. The priests were originally identical with medicine men and magicians. They knew the workings of the providential forces. In their hands lay, at least indirectly, the welfare of the tribe. Their princ.i.p.al duties were to administer and give advice as to the wors.h.i.+p of the G.o.ds. Often it was necessary for them to point out to the lay members of the tribe which G.o.ds to wors.h.i.+p on special occasions. The priests being accredited with a superior knowledge of the ways of the G.o.ds, they were required to influence the wind and rain, to cause good growth, to ensure success in hunting and fis.h.i.+ng, to cure illness, to foretell the future, to work harm upon enemies.[1]

[Footnote 1: For a detailed discussion see Hastings: _Encyclopoedia of Religion and Ethics_, vol. II, pp. 278-335.]

There is more than one criterion by which men may be set apart as priests. Sometimes they are those who in a mystic state of ecstasy are supposed to be inspired by the G.o.ds.

During their trance such men are questioned as to the will of the divine. Sometimes they become renowned through their reputed performance of an occasional miracle. Again, as magical and religious ceremonies become more complicated, there is a deliberate training of an expert cla.s.s to perform these essential acts. And, whatever be the source of the selection of the priestly cla.s.s, the immense influence which their functions are regarded as having on the welfare of the tribe causes them to be particularly revered and often feared by the lay members of the tribe. In more civilized and spiritual religions, the priestly or professional ecclesiastical cla.s.s is no longer regarded as possessed of magical powers by which it can coerce divinity. It is the official administrator of the ceremonies of religion, is especially trained, versed and certificated in doctrine, is empowered to receive confession, fix penance, and the like. It is still an intermediary between man and the divine, although itself not possessing any supernatural powers.