Part 1 (2/2)
We are but pilgrims down roads which s.p.a.ce and time supply; we cannot account for ourselves in terms of what we know to be less than ourselves, nor can we face the shadow which falls deeply across the end of our way without dreaming, at least, of that which lies beyond.
Whence? Whither? and Why? are insurgent questions; they are voices out of the depths. A very great development of intelligence was demanded before such questions really took definite shape, but they are implicit in even the most rudimentary forms of religion, nor do we outgrow them through any achievement of Science or development of Philosophy. They become thereby, if anything, more insistent. Our widening horizons of knowledge are always swept by a vaster circ.u.mference of mystery into which faith must write a meaning and beyond which faith must discern a destiny.
Religion begins, therefore, in our need so to interpret the power manifest in the universe[1] as to come into some satisfying relations.h.i.+p therewith. It goes on to supply an answer to the dominant questions--Whence? Whither? Why? It fulfills itself in wors.h.i.+p and communion with what is wors.h.i.+pped. Such wors.h.i.+p has addressed itself to vast ranges of objects, fulfilled itself in an almost unbelievable variety of rites. And yet in every kind of wors.h.i.+p there has been some aspiration toward an ideal excellence and some endeavour, moreover, of those who wors.h.i.+p to come into a real relation with what is wors.h.i.+pped.
It would need a detailed treatment, here impossible, to back up so general a statement with the facts which prove it, but the facts are beyond dispute. It would be equally difficult to a.n.a.lyze the elements in human nature which lead us to seek such communion. The essential loneliness of the soul, our sense of divided and warring powers and the general emotional instability of personality without fitting objects of faith and devotion, all contribute to the incurable religiosity of human nature.
[Footnote 1: I have taken as a working definition of Religion a phrase quoted by Ward Fowler in the introduction to his Gifford Lectures on ”The Religious Experience of the Roman People.” ”Religion is the effective desire to be in right relations.h.i.+p to the power manifesting itself in the Universe.” This is only a formula but it lends itself to vital interpretations and is a better approach to modern cults, many of which are just that endeavour, than those definitions of religion just now current which define it as a system of values or a process of evaluation.]
The value which religion has for those who hold it is perhaps as largely tested by its power to give them a real sense of communion with G.o.d as by any other single thing, but this by no means exhausts the value of religion for life. All religions must, in one way or another, meet the need of the will for guidance and the need of the ethical sense for right standards. Religion has always had an ethical content, simple enough to begin with as religion itself was simple. Certain things were permitted, certain things prohibited as part of a cult. These permissions and prohibitions are often strangely capricious, but we may trace behind taboo and caste and the ceremonially clean and unclean an always emerging standard of right and wrong and a fundamental relations.h.i.+p between religion and ethics. Religion from the very first felt itself to be the more august force and through its superior authority gave direction and quality to the conduct of its devotees. It was long enough before all this grew into Decalogues and the Sermon on the Mount and the latter chapters of Paul's great letters to his churches and our present system of Christian ethics, but we discover the beginning of the lords.h.i.+p of religion over conduct even in the most primitive cults.
We shall find as we go on that this particular aspect of religion is less marked in modern religious cults and movements than either the quest for a new understanding of G.o.d or new answers to the three great questions, or the longing for a more satisfying communion with G.o.d. They accept, for the most part, the generally held standards of Christian conduct, but even so, they are beginning to develop their own ethical standards and to react upon the conduct of those who hold them.
As has been intimated, however, the appeal of religion goes far deeper than all this. If it did no more than seek to define for us the ”power not ourselves” everywhere made manifest, if it did no more than answer the haunting questions: Whence? and Whither? and Why?, if it did no more than offer the emotional life a satisfying object of wors.h.i.+p and communion with the Divine, supplying at the same time ethical standards and guiding and strengthening the will in its endeavour after goodness, it would have done us an immense service. But one may well wonder whether if religion did no more than this it would have maintained itself as it has and renew through the changing generations its compelling appeal. More strong than any purely intellectual curiosity as to a first cause or controlling power, more haunting than any wonder as to the source and destiny of life, more persistent than any loneliness of the questing soul is our dissatisfaction with ourselves, our consciousness of tragic moral fault, our need of forgiveness and deliverance. This longing for deliverance has taken many forms.
Henry Osborn Taylor in a fine pa.s.sage has shown us how manifold are the roads men have travelled in their quest for salvation.[2] ”For one man shall find his peace in action, another in the rejection of action, even in the seeming destruction of desire; another shall have peace and freedom through intellectual inquiry, while another must obey his G.o.d or love his G.o.d and may stand in very conscious need of divine salvation.
The adjustment sought by Confucius was very different from that which drew the mind of Plato or led Augustine to the City of G.o.d. Often quite different motives may inspire the reasonings which incidentally bring men to like conclusions.... The life adjustment of the early Greek philosophers had to do with scientific curiosity.... They were not like Gotama seeking relief from the tedious impermanence of personal experience any more than they were seeking to insure their own eternal welfare in and through the love of G.o.d, the motive around which surged the Christian yearning for salvation. Evidently every religion is a means of adjustment or deliverance.”
[Footnote 2: ”Deliverance,” pp. 4 and 5.]
Professor James in his chapter on The Sick Souls deals most suggestively with these driving longings and all the later a.n.a.lyses of the psychology of conversion begin with the stress of the divided self. The deeper teaching of the New Testament roots itself in this soil. The literature of confession is rich in cla.s.sic ill.u.s.trations of all this, told as only St. Augustine more than a thousand years ago or Tolstoy yesterday can tell it. No need to quote them here; they are easily accessible for those who would find for their own longings immortal voices and be taught with what searching self-a.n.a.lysis those who have come out of darkness into light have dealt with their own sick souls.
Every religion has in some fas.h.i.+on or other offered deliverance to its devotees through sacrifice or spiritual discipline, or the a.s.surance that their sins were atoned for and their deliverance a.s.sured through the sufferings of others. All this, needless to say, involves not only the sense of sin but the whole reach of life's shadowed experiences. We have great need to be delivered not only from our divided selves but from the burdens and perplexities of life. Religion must offer some explanation of the general problem of sorrow and evil; it must, above all, justify the ways of G.o.d with men.
Generally speaking, religion is very greatly dependent upon its power so to interpret the hard things of life to those who bear them that they may still believe in the Divine love and justice. The generality of doubt is not philosophical but practical. We break with G.o.d more often than for any other reason because we believe that He has not kept faith with us. Some of the more strongly held modern cults have found their opportunity in the evident deficiency of the traditional explanation of pain and sorrow. Religion has really a strong hold on the average life only as it meets the more shadowed side of experience with the affirmation of an all-conquering love and justice in which we may rest.
Broadly considered, then, the elements common to all religions are such as these: a satisfying interpretation of the power manifest in the universe, the need of the mind for an answer to the questions Whence?
and Whither? and Why?, the need of the emotional life for such peace as may come from the consciousness of being in right relations.h.i.+p and satisfying communion with G.o.d, the need of the will and ethical sense for guidance, and a need including all this and something beside for spiritual deliverance. The representative religious consciousness of the end of the nineteenth century in which we find our point of departure for the religious reactions of the last generation naturally included all this, but implicitly rather than explicitly. The intellectually curious were more concerned with science and political economies than the nature or genesis of religion, while the truly devout, who are not generally given to the critical a.n.a.lysis of their faith, accepted it as a Divine revelation needing no accounting for outside their Bible.
Moreover such things as these were not then and never can be held abstractly. They were articulate in creeds and organized in churches and invested with the august sanction of authority, and mediated through old, old processes of religious development.
_Christianity Historically Organized Around the Conception of a Transcendent G.o.d and a Fallen Humanity_
For in its historic development religion has naturally taken distinctly divergent forms, conditioned by race, environment, the action and reaction of ma.s.sed experience and by the temper and insight of a few supremely great religious leaders. But centrally, the whole development of any religion has been controlled by its conception of G.o.d and, in the main, three different conceptions of G.o.d give colour and character to the outstanding historic religions. Pantheistic religions have thought of G.o.d as just the whole of all that is; they widen the universe to the measure of the Divine, or narrow the Divine to the operations of the universe. Pantheism saturates its whole vague content with a mystical quality of thought, and colours what it sees with its own emotions. The religions of the Divine Immanence conceive G.o.d as pervading and sustaining all that is and revealing Himself thereby, though not necessarily confined therein. The religions of the Divine Transcendence have believed in a G.o.d who is apart from all that is, who neither begins nor ends in His universe, and from whom we are profoundly separated not only by our littlenesses but by our sin.
All this is a bare statement of what is almost infinitely richer as it has been felt and proclaimed by the devout and we shall see as we go on how the newer religious movements take also their colour and character from a new emphasis upon the nature of G.o.d, or else a return to understandings of Him and feelings about Him which have been lost out in the development of Christianity.
Historically Christian theology, particularly in the West, has centered around the conception of a Transcendent G.o.d. As far as doctrine goes Christianity took over a great inheritance from the Jew, for arrestingly enough the Jew, though he belongs to the East, had never anything in common with Eastern Pantheism. On the contrary we find his prophets and lawgivers battling with all their force against such aspects of Pantheism as they found about them. The G.o.d of the Old Testament is always immeasurably above those who wors.h.i.+pped Him in righteousness and power; He is their G.o.d and they are His chosen people, but there is never any identification of their will with His except in the rare moments of their perfect obedience.
True enough, through the insight of the prophets and particularly the experience of psalmists, this conception of the Apart-G.o.d became increasingly rich in the persuasion of His unfailing care for His children. None the less, the Hebrew G.o.d is a Transcendent G.o.d and Christianity inherits from that. Christianity took over what Judaism refused--Jesus Christ and His Gospel. But out of the immeasurable wealth of His teaching apostolic thinking naturally appropriated and made most of what was nearest in line with the prophets and the lawgivers of their race. Judaism refused Christ but the Twelve Apostles were Jews and the greatest of the group--St. Paul--was a Jewish Rabbi before he became a Christian teacher. He had been nurtured and matured in the schools of his people and though he was reborn, in renunciations and obediences distinctly Christian, there were in his very soul inherited rigidities of form in conformity to which he recast his faith.
More distinctly than he himself could ever have known, he particularized the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Doubtless his own experience was the deeper directing force in all this. Theologies always, to begin with, are the molten outpouring of some transforming experience and they are always, to begin with, fluid and glowing.
Such glowing experiences as these are hard to communicate; they, too, soon harden down and we inherit, as cold and rigid form, what was to begin with the flaming outcome of experience. St. Paul's own struggle and the bitterness of a divided self which issued in his conversion naturally gave content to all his after teaching. He worked out his system strangely apart from the other group of disciples; he had probably never heard a word of Christ's teaching directly from Christ's lips; he naturally fell back, therefore, upon his Jewish inheritance and widened that system of sacrifices and atonements until he found therein not only a place for the Cross but the necessity for it. He made much, therefore, of the sense of alienation from G.o.d, of sin and human helplessness, of the need and possibility of redemption.
_The Incarnation as the Bridge Between G.o.d and Man; the Cross as the Instrument of Man's Redemption. The Cross the Supreme Symbol of Western Theology_
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