With the death of Jesus, died also His dream of converting the Jews to
His religious ideas. A few scattered bands of followers—Nazarites or
Ebionites—survived Him. But they existed only in a moribund condition,
exerted no influence over the nation, and, in the course of a few
centuries, disappeared from history. The Jews as a people rejected, and
have always rejected, both Jesus as a Messiah and His teachings as their
religion. If the Jews had then been an independent nation, living in
their haughty isolation from other peoples, the power and hatred of the
Pharisees would probably have stamped out the last remnants of Jesus'
followers, and He would have survived only as a name in history. But the
disciples (or apostles) found under the Roman rule protection for their
teaching, and ready access to the Gentile communities, not only in
Palestine, but throughout all the coasts of the Mediterranean. Among
these communities Jesus' Gospel found a quick and ready acceptance, and,
within two or three centuries after His death, it had become a mighty
living force in the evolution of mankind. In the reign of Constantine,
Christianity became the dominant religion in the Roman empire, and it
rapidly brought under its influence the Northern Barbarians, who, in
their turn, were to be the conquerors of this empire.
As Christianity grew and spread and became more powerful, it lost almost
all resemblance to the religion of "right living," which Jesus had
taught and practiced. The spiritual and temporal powers were once more
re-united, dogmas, creeds, theological disquisitions multiplied, "until
the fair body of religion, revealed in almost naked purity by the
prophets, is once more hidden under a new accumulation of dogmas and of
ritual practices of which the primitive Nazarene knew nothing; and which
He would probably have regarded as blasphemous if He could have been
made to understand them."
"As, century after century, the ages roll on, polytheism comes back
under the disguise of mariolatry and the adoration of saints; image
worship becomes as rampant as in old Egypt; adoration of relics takes
the place of the old fetich-worship; the virtues of the ephod pale
before those of holy coats and handkerchiefs; shrines and calvaries make
up for the loss of the ark and of the high places; and even the lustral
water of paganism is replaced by holy water at the porches of the
temples. A touching ceremony—the common meal originally eaten in pious
memory of a loved teacher—was metamorphosed into a flesh-and-blood
sacrifice, supposed to possess exactly that redeeming virtue which the
prophets denied to the flesh-and-blood sacrifices of their day; while
the minute observance of ritual was raised to a degree of punctilious
refinement which Levitical legislators might envy. And with the growth
of this theology, grew its inevitable concomitant, the belief in evil
spirits, in possession, in sorcery, in charms and omens, until the
Christians of the twelfth century after our era were sunk in more
debased and brutal superstitions than are recorded of the Israelites in
the twelfth century before it."
(Some Controverted Questions, Huxley, p. 159.)
In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the leaders of the
Reformation and the New Learning began their relentless warfare upon the
existing formalism and superstition, and from two different points of
attack. After centuries of bloody wars, Protestantism succeeded in
displacing Catholicism as the dominant religion over a large part of
Northern Europe. Roman Catholicism still remained dominant in Southern
Europe, and Greek Catholicism in Eastern Europe. In the meanwhile, to
the eternal disgrace of the then Christendom, the followers of Mahomet
had established his religion in some of the fairest portions of
Southeastern Europe. If the Christian nations of the fifteenth century
had expended on the practical cause of keeping Mohammedanism out of
Europe one tithe of the energy and sacrifice that they did expend on the
unpractical dream of recovering the Holy Sepulchre, Europe would have
been spared the endless heritage of evil that has followed the
introduction of the unspeakable Turk into European politics. But mutual
jealousies, prejudices, petty ambitions, dissentions and discords
permitted this calamity to occur, the end of which it seems is not yet.
As the Reformed churches became established in power, each one developed
its own formalism, different from, but no more in consonance with,
Jesus' simple religion, than that of the Catholics. As dogmatic
theologians, Luther, Calvin, Knox and Jonathan Edwards were little
improvement over Loyola, Augustine and Justin. Predestination,
fore-ordination, change of heart, infant damnation, eternal punishment,
the Thirty-nine Articles, the Augsburg Confession, would have been as
unintelligible to Jesus, and would have met as summary condemnation at
His hands, as the quarrels between the homoi-ousians and the
homo-ousians, which rent the Christian world in the third century after
His death.
But a more formidable champion had entered the lists against dogmatic
theology and in favor of the creedless religion of Jesus. The invention
of printing, the growth of science, the diffusion of education, and the
development of a world-wide commerce were all working towards the
eradication of superstition, the breaking down of national and racial
and religious antipathies and prejudices, the cultivation of relations,
first of business, and then of mutual regard and friendship between the
peoples of different countries, the constant amelioration of the
roughness, harshness and cruelty of earlier times, the encouragement of
courtesy, consideration for others and charity towards all men. All
these forces were making for Jesus' ideal of a common humanity, where
the asperities of different religious creeds would cease to trouble, and
each man might love his neighbor as himself. A tremendous victory had
been won when the time came, that an Orthodox Catholic would admit that
his righteous-living Protestant neighbor might inherit heaven as surely
as himself.
The optimist of the early years of this century might have hugged
himself with complacency over the rapid progress which the Gospel of
Jesus was making in moulding mankind towards a realization of His
ideals. Then came the cataclysm of 1914. The leading nations of
Europe—all Christian except the Turks—plunged into the bloodiest war
of history, and on the most petty of pretexts—the political
administration of an insignificant Balkan state. The Gospel of Jesus, as
an efficient force restraining these nations from war, was as though it
had never existed. In the communications between England, France, Russia
and Germany, preliminary to the war and ostensibly seeking to avert war,
did any one statesman urge the argument that the law of Jesus forbade
this war? Not a single syllable, and, for the sufficient reason, that
each one knew that it would fall on deaf ears and would be laughed at as
"old women's talk." So far as the efficiency of such arguments was
concerned, they might as well have been used between the Persians and
Egyptians before Jesus was born.
Then, when war broke out, came the supreme irony of each nation crowding
its churches to pray for the assistance of the meek and gentle Jesus in
slaughtering its enemies. Later, the victorious nations crowded their
churches to thank Jesus that He had made them successful in their
hellish business.
There are some who can quiet their consciences by shifting the
responsibility for the incalculable misery of this brutal, barbarous
conflict from the sins and evil ambitions of man to the shoulders of the
Almighty. With those holding this (to the writer) blasphemous doctrine,
argument is useless. But to the ordinary, sincere and candid follower of
Jesus, does not the occurrence of this war give occasion to pause and
think—as it were, to take an account of his stock-in-trade? Why did the
mighty forces of Christianity fail to work with any practical effect at
this, their supreme test—the prevention of war? What promise has the
future to prevent the recurrence of such evils? How far has modern
Christianity kept undefiled the pure religion of the Great Nazarene?
These are all questions demanding at this time the serious consideration
of every thinking man, professed Christian or not.
The Gospel of Jesus proclaimed the highest ethical ideal that had yet
appeared on earth. But, as a working rule-of-conduct for practical,
everyday life, it contained an essential weakness. With its acceptance
by one nation after another, it became an efficient force, working with
other forces in the evolution of mankind. But here it came in direct
conflict with the forces of nature, which, working through countless
ages, had made man what he then was. The ultimate goal of man's
struggles and aspirations under the Gospel of Jesus was self-abnegation,
non-resistance, the protection of the weak by the strong. The ultimate
goal of nature's forces was self-assertion, battle, the crushing out of
the weak by the strong. The struggle for existence and the survival of
the fittest had no place in their operation for the doctrines of
"turning the other cheek," and "loving thy neighbor as thyself." The two
were, and always will be, as incompatible as fire and water.
When the Germans, some fifty years ago, began dreaming of, and planning
for, a world empire, some of their philosophers clearly recognized, and
openly proclaimed, the essential antipathy between the forces of
Christianity, working towards Jesus' ideal, and the forces of nature,
working towards the survival of the fittest. In order to realize her
dream, it was necessary for Germany to treat the Sermon on the Mount as
the piping of some "idle singer of an empty day."
On the assumption that the "manifest destiny" of the Germans was to be
world-conquerors, these philosophers argued, with unassailable logic,
that the nation had made a vital mistake in abandoning the heathen gods
for the Jesus of Christianity. World-conquest demands of its aspirant
merciless severity, even to the enslavement or annihilation of any
unoffending people, which the "necessity of war" considers to be
impeding its progress. In so far as the individual imbibes, and is
affected by, the ideals of Jesus, just so far is his efficiency as a
unit of the conquering nation impaired. World-conquerors can tolerate
no "conscientious objectors" in their ranks. Logically their gods should
be the gods of the old Valhalla, Valor, Glory, Victory. Their priests
should preach war and hate, not peace and love.
With a courage and consistency that left nothing unsaid, these German
writers tore in twain the veil of hypocrisy with which Christian nations
cover up their wars, and their schemes of colonization, benevolent
assimilation, etc. They showed forth the naked truth that Jesus' ideal
and nature's goal for man are the antipodes of each other, at least as
regards different nations struggling with each other for supreme power.
In other words, the forces of Christianity are working in one direction,
and the forces of nature in another.
As with the Nation, so with the Individual.
Jesus (stating His ideal standard, it must be remembered) says: "Go and
sell that thou hast and give to the poor" (Matt. XIX:21).
Nature says: Not so. If you had done this in the beginning, you would
now have nothing with which to help the poor. If you do it now, you will
simply be adding yourself and your family to increase the number of the
poor.
Jesus says: "Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat; neither
for the body, what ye shall put on" (Luke XII:22).
Nature says: Take thought for the morrow and provide for the future of
yourself and your family; practice economy, frugality, thrift; see to it
that the contingency of sickness, or the coming of old age, does not
bring you and those dependent on you into the ranks of the poor, seeking
aid from others.
The contrast between the two goals is as sharply defined in the case of
the individual as in the case of the nation.
From this it does not follow that nature's forces do not make for
altruism. As the family, the tribe or clan, the race, and the nation are
successively evolved, the scope of self-interest widens and the means
necessary to attain its ends become less individualistic and more
humanitarian. As Fagin impresses on Noah Claypole, even in a band of
thieves, the number one of Noah must also include the number one of the
other members of the gang. In a modern community, whether Christian or
heathen, the successful business or professional man must necessarily
practice, to a greater or less degree, the same virtues inculcated by
Jesus; otherwise he makes himself an outcast—an Ishmaelite—against
whom every man's hand is turned.
"Honesty is the best policy" of the utilitarian leads to the same
results as the Gospel maxim "to deal justly with all men."
Also the growth of a world-wide commerce, with the accompanying spread
of international law, develops constantly a spirit of international
morality. A nation today, planning a war, must look beyond the question
of how its course will affect the self-interest of other nations. If it
has wisdom in its councils, it must also reckon with this spirit of
international morality. If its cause be too palpably unjust, or the
means it adopts to secure victory be too barbarous, it may shock this
international morality, and bring upon itself unexpected enemies, who
may balk its best laid plans. The possibility of such contingencies
arising will have far more weight than any argument based on the
teaching of Jesus.
In Physics a body acted on by two divergent forces takes a course which
is the resultant of (a compromise between) the two different forces. So,
if Christianity is to survive as an efficient force in man's evolution,
compromises must be made between the ideals of Jesus and the natural
forces expressed in the terms of the struggle for existence and the
survival of the fittest. It is possible that the day may come, when all
nations of our planet may be converted, to put into practical operation
in international affairs the ideals of Jesus. But the experience of the
world during 1914 shows that little, if any, progress has been made in
that direction since the Crucifixion. Suppose the Christian nations of
Europe and America should announce today the doctrine of non-resistance,
dismantle their fleets and dismiss their armies, how long would it be
before the Moslems, or the "yellow hordes" of Asia, would enslave them
and exterminate all Christian religion and civilization? Fortunately,
such a result is unthinkable, and the Christian nations will, until some
unknown time in the future, continue their compromise with Jesus'
ideals. The unspeakable Turk will continue to understand that, if he
massacres some Christian villages, the other cheek will not be turned to
him, but, on the contrary, a righteous retribution of bayonet and shell
will be meted out to him.
A superficial glance at history illustrates the necessity of national
compromise.
If Moses had preached, and the Jews had put in practice, the doctrine of
non-resistance, they would soon have been exterminated by their
Philistine neighbors, and the Jesus that was would never have been.
If the tribes of the northern barbarians in the first thousand years of
our era had put into practical effect the Sermon on the Mount, as soon
as they accepted Christianity, there would have been no Anglo-Saxon
England and United States, as they are today.
If Ferdinand and Isabella had not relied on their earthly weapons, Spain
would probably have been Moslem to this day.
If the Christian powers had not warred against the Turks in the
sixteenth century, the greater part of Europe would have bowed the knee
to Mahomet, and the Mosque would have superseded the Church as the
authorized place of worship.
If our colonial ancestors had obeyed the injunction, "Render to Cæsar
the things that are Cæsar's," there would have been no American
Revolution.
If the "conscientious objectors" had swayed the councils of the North in
1861, we would now have a divided country, with slavery firmly
established in one-half of it.
As with the nation, so with the individual, a compromise between Jesus'
ideals and the forces of nature is a necessity, at least until evolution
has produced some fundamental change in human nature.
It is related that when the mother and brethren of Jesus sought to speak
with Him, He repudiated their special claims of relationship on Him, and
said: "For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven,
the same is my brother, and sister and mother" (Matt. XII:50; Mark
III:31; Luke VIII:19).
In another place He says: "He that loveth father or mother more than me
is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is
not worthy of me" (Matt. X:37).
"If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife,
and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he
cannot be my disciple" (Luke XIV:26).
"And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or
father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake,
shall receive a hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life" (Matt.
XIX:29).
"And He said unto another, Follow me. But he said, Lord, suffer me first
to go and bury my father.
"Jesus said unto him, let the dead bury their dead; but go thou and
preach the kingdom of God" (Luke IX:59, 60).
Now, no sane man would advocate that doctrines such as these should be
put into general, practical operation under the present constitution of
human nature. Their practice would make of man a selfish ascetic, would
disintegrate the family into its individual units, like animals when the
breeding season is past, would discourage human progress and
development, and would eventually lead to the degradation or extinction
of any society which attempted to consistently enforce them. Of course
the individual man or woman may abjure family ties altogether, without
serious loss to the community and even perhaps with some gain, just as
the drones have a function to perform in a community of bees. But the
universal adoption of this practice by a human community would mean its
speedy death. With those who would regard this as a desirable outcome of
Jesus' teachings, we have no argument.
There is, however, no danger of such a condition of affairs coming to
pass. For untold ages before these utterances of Jesus, nature had been
developing the family affections in man. It had made the family the
fundamental unit of the tribe, the clan, the race, the nation. These
family affections, so planted by nature in man, must, in society as a
whole, override the ethical idea of a general philanthropy, as embodied
in these utterances of Jesus. The normal man has always, and does now,
rank the duties to his family as paramount over those of general
philanthropy.
Man will continue to marry and have children in the future, as he has in
the past. He will continue to regard his obligations to his family as
superior and prior to those he owes to mankind in general. He will feel
within himself the urge, not merely to satisfy the need of the day, but
also to provide for the future. He will look forward to the education
and outfitting of his children. He will guard against the contingencies
of sickness and the probabilities of old age coming upon himself and
those dependent on him. He will engage with all his energy in the
struggle with his fellow men for the acquisition of property. He will
practice industry, thrift and economy, and take every fair means to push
his own business at the expense of his competitors.
But in all this, even allowing that he has reasonably practiced the
virtues of generosity, charity and philanthropy, there is no disguising
the plain, naked truth that is all the time making compromises with the
ideals of Jesus. His actions simply do not square with the maxims: Give
all thy goods to the poor; take no thought for the morrow; every one who
does the will of God is the same to you as your brother and sister and
mother; resist not evil, but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right
cheek, turn to him the other also; whosoever shall compel thee to go a
mile, go with him twain; give to every man that asketh of thee, and of
him that taketh away thy goods, ask them not again; love your enemies,
bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you; lay not up for
yourselves treasures upon earth; take no thought, saying, What shall we
eat? Or, What shall we drink? Or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? He
that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.
It is difficult to conceive how, at the present stage of man's
evolution, any community of considerable size, even if we assume all
external hostile interference eliminated, could put these ideals into
practical effect without disaster. As we know man, he has become what he
is only through strife and contest, through the survival of the strong,
the industrious, the provident over the weak, the lazy, the improvident.
If the struggle for existence is eliminated, is there not every reason
to expect that progress will be arrested, and the nation's civilization
will decay and finally disappear, as has been the case so many times in
the past history of the world? The desire for the acquisition of private
property and the lust for power have been the two dominant motives
impelling men to raise themselves from a stage of barbarism to a stage
of civilization. What motives can be substituted for those that will
have the same compelling, driving force? It is only by long centuries of
hard fighting with material weapons that the powers of good have so far
subdued the powers of evil as to establish our present standard of
humanitarianism. But if the good are to be confined to the weapon of
moral suasion, how long will it be until the powers of evil are in full
control?
But, further, even if we assume that all evil-doers are converted from
the error of their ways, the economic problem for a community working
under these ideals seems insoluble. Even under the grinding necessities
of the struggle for existence, the tendency of human populations to
increase beyond their means of subsistence is an indisputable fact, as
soon as they develop a civilization where peace and security of private
property are measurably assured, and especially where manufacturing
centers with large industrial populations are established. The many
ancient civilizations that have arisen, flourished and decayed attest
the truth of this fact. In the seventeenth century England was
confronted with the problem of inadequate means of subsistence, and met
it by spreading over the whole globe. What the history of the English
people would have been if they had been confined to their native island,
would afford an interesting subject for abstract philosophical
speculation. Thus far, the vast undeveloped territories of the United
States have furnished an outlet for its surplus population. But the time
may not be far distant when the problem of subsistence may be a serious
one with us. In modern times, nearly all the great nations have been
struggling for the acquisition of new territories as an outlet for their
expanding populations. Germany's economic needs were undoubtedly one of
the strongest motives urging her onward in her fateful dream of world
empire. France attempts to meet the difficulty by voluntary, individual
action in limiting the birth rate. This remedy will always be resorted
to in highly civilized nations, as the pressure of population on
subsistence becomes more severe. But the decrease of population means
the arrest of growth and progress in the national organism, and eventual
decadence.
Thus dark and uncertain is the economic outlook for nations where the
competitive struggle for existence is in full sway, where the
acquisition and accumulation of private property are fostered and
encouraged, where thrift, industry and saving are ranked as cardinal
virtues, and where proper provision for oneself and one's family is even
enforced by law against the indolent and shiftless. What must be the
economic future of a community from which these incentives and
restraints are banished, and where sympathy for the unfortunate and the
criminal, regardless of merit or desert, is to be the governing
principle?
It follows, then, first, that the nation, in its international
relations, must compromise with the ideals of Jesus in order to preserve
its national existence, and to safeguard Christianity against the
attacks of its external foes; and second, that the individual, in his
daily life, must compromise with these ideals to preserve the well-being
and continuity of the family and to ensure the progress of mankind in
happiness, morality and material prosperity.
The Crucifixion was but a few years old when those two old enemies whom
Jesus had fought so persistently—creeds and ceremonies—began to be
active among the early Christians. Right theological thinking began to
assert its supremacy over the right practical living, taught by Jesus
as the first essential of His professed followers. The outside of the
cup was being carefully polished up, although the inside might be
unclean. Paul, who had never had any personal intercourse with Jesus,
was the protagonist of this retrograde movement. Zealous, energetic, a
ready writer and a subtile dialectician, his numerous epistles furnished
an arsenal of weapons for all future controversial theologians. His
arrogance in defining the tenets of the rapidly growing Gentile Church
was not one whit abated by the fact that he had never been in personal
contact with Jesus, and that in his views he was opposed to those who
had been the most intimate associates of Jesus during his entire
prophetic career. Quite early in his ministration, Paul has a bitter
quarrel with Peter, James, Cephas, John (the pillars) and other
disciples of Jesus over some question of circumcision, and has no
hesitation in telling Peter (the "rock" of the new Church) to his face
that "he was to be blamed" for his views (Galatians II:11 et seq.).
It is not too much to say that he took the fair, smiling child of
religion, as left by Jesus, and transformed it into a misshapen dwarf,
with twisted and contorted limbs, and upon its face a frown of almost
malevolent austerity.
When right theological thinking became established as the primary
essential of a Christian, and especially when Christianity acquired
temporal power, it was inevitable that there should be extracted from
Paul's militant writings that most abominable doctrine of "No compromise
with evil." In company with dogmatic distinctions of orthodoxy and
heterodoxy, it has inflicted its full quota of misery and suffering upon
the human race. It formed the justification of the cruelties of the
Inquisition, the religious persecutions and wars of the Middle Ages, the
conversion of savages by fire and sword, the extermination of so-called
witches, and the burning at the stake of countless advanced thinkers in
science and religion, and other so-called heretics.
Probably the unrecorded suffering which the advocates of this doctrine
have inflicted in the domestic and social sphere would equal that which
is written in political history. The possession of, and disposition to
put into practical operation, this dogma presupposes sublime egoism,
coupled with a narrowness of mind easily running into extreme bigotry.
For the slightest study of history will show that the error and evil of
one age becomes the truth and good of a succeeding age. But the
non-compromiser ignores any consideration of that sort. If he has
decided that this and that are evil, they must necessarily be evil
without argument or appeal. He is the legitimate descendant of the old
inquisitors, and, if he had the temporal power, would today enforce his
ideas as ruthlessly throughout the nation as they did in the Middle
Ages. Confined to the narrower limits of the domestic and social circle,
he plays the autocrat so far as he can. Without sympathy or toleration
for differing opinions and tastes, as husband, father, priest, officer,
or citizen, the non-compromiser seeks to fit every one to his own
narrow Procrustean bed.
Closely allied to the non-compromisers are the sacro-sancts, or those
who would be holier than Jesus.
This class is well illustrated in an incident taken from a recent novel.
The heroine consults her married sister about the heroine's contemplated
marriage with a man who has divorced his wife on the ground of her
adultery. The sister declares that such a marriage would be no better
than prostitution. "But he is legally divorced" says the heroine. "Yes,
according to man's law, but not according to God's law," says the
sister. Now, considering that divorce was permitted under God's law, as
recorded in the Old Testament, that Matthew twice clearly and explicitly
states that Jesus sanctioned divorce on the ground of adultery, and that
John mentions no condemnation of divorce by Jesus, it would seem that
there was at least a fair doubt as to whether the heroine's proposed
marriage was contrary to God's law. But the sister, like other
sacro-sancts and non-compromisers, arrogates to herself infallibility in
interpreting the divine will, and will not admit argument as to her
possible inaccuracy.
Other examples are those who would fear to contaminate their holiness by
following their Master's example in eating and associating with
publicans and sinners (Matt. IX:10); who would shudder at being anointed
by a prostitute (Luke VII:37); who would think the Sabbath desecrated by
pleasant walks in the fields, or by feasting and joyous meetings with
one's friends (Matt. XII:1; Luke XIV:1), and who in general insist on
the observance of religious rites and symbols, similar to those which
Jesus condemned in the Pharisees.
One of the XXXIX Articles of the Protestant Episcopal Church takes a
slap at these sacro-sancts (Book of Common Prayers, Article XIV). It
condemns, as marks of "arrogancy and impiety," works of
supererogation—that is, works over and above God's commandments.
Undoubtedly the meaning here is, not to condemn excess in acts of mercy
and charity, but excess in the same acts of ceremonial worship which
Jesus condemned in the Pharisees: Long prayers, "standing in the
synagogues" (churches), instead of in their "closet"; public fasting
with "a sad countenance," so that they "disfigure their faces," instead
of anointing their heads and washing their faces "that they appear not
unto men to fast," making "broad their phylacteries" and giving
ostentatiously their "tithe of mint and anise and cummin" (Matt. VI:1-7,
16, 17, 18; XXIII:4-7, 23).
The dogma of non-compromise finds no support in the teaching and
practice of Jesus. He pictured the highest ideals for mankind. But He
was no bigot in demanding that fallible human beings should live up to
these ideals on pain of damnation. With His wonderful tolerance and
broadminded sympathy, He recognized that the happiness and progress of
the human race, in its present state of evolution, necessitated certain
compromises with evil. "As between two evils, choose the less," would be
much nearer His position than "no compromise with evil." A short study
of some of the episodes of His life will place this beyond dispute.
Jesus undoubtedly considered that riches were an evil (Matt. XIX:23, 24;
XIII:22; Mark X:23, 24; Luke XVIII:24, 25). He knows the "deceitfulness"
of riches, and that the temptations attending the possession of wealth
do not ordinarily make for righteousness. He advises that one should lay
up treasure in heaven rather than on earth (Matt. VI:19, 20; Luke
XII:33).
Riches, then, being an evil, the non-compromiser should logically regard
the rich man as a persistent evil-doer. He should constantly denounce
his evil ways, as those of any other malefactor. He should refuse him
his public association and friendship, since thereby he would be gilding
his misconduct with the gold of his own sanctity. If a priest, he should
charge his congregation to abstain from those habits of thrift and
economy which will result in bringing upon them this evil of wealth.
But Jesus was too sane and broad-minded not to see that the happiness of
mankind demanded a compromise with this evil. While warning against the
temptations of riches, He preached poverty, not as a necessity to
salvation, but as an ideal, to be attained and practiced by but a few.
Thus, in the case of the young man with "great possessions," Jesus,
according to Matthew prefaces His counsel to sell his goods and give to
the poor with the significant condition, "if thou wilt be perfect"
(Matt. XIX:21). To the same effect are the accounts of Mark and Luke.
"One thing thou lackest," viz., in order to be perfect (Mark X:21; Luke
XVIII:22). Evidently Jesus took the concrete case of the young man to
impress on His hearers one of His ideals—the high standard He set for
those who aspired to be His immediate followers and the ministers of His
Word. In His instructions to the twelve and the seventy, He laid down
rules of conduct which practically eliminated the acquisition or
possession of wealth (Matt. X:2, 9, 10; Mark VI:8, 9; Luke IX: 3; X:4).
But He set no such severe standard for the rank and file of His
followers, nor did He withhold His favor and countenance from the
possessors of riches, as though they were evil doers.
Nearly all the persons named in the Gospels as intimate friends and
associates of Jesus (outside of the apostles) were, apparently, more or
less prominent, and belonged at least to the well-to-do class. Joseph of
Arimathæa, a disciple of Jesus, and one "waiting for the Kingdom of
God," and who placed His body in the sepulchre, was a rich man (Matt.
XXVII:57; Luke XXIII:50, 51). Nicodemus, who assisted Joseph in the
burial, brought a hundred pound weight of myrrh and aloes indicating
that he was not a poor man (John XIX:39). According to John he was the
man who came to Jesus by night and was a "ruler" of the Jews (John
III:1, 2; VII:50). Lazarus, whom Jesus "loved" and with whose family He
was very intimate (John XI:5; Luke X:38), could not have been a poor
man, since his sister anointed Jesus with an ointment "very precious"
and worth more than three hundred pence (Mark XIV:3, 4, 5).
On one occasion Jesus invites Himself to visit in the house of
Zacchaeus, who was "chief among the publicans," rich, and a "sinner"
(Luke XIX:1-7). Levi, the publican, gives a "great feast" for Jesus,
which He approves by His presence (Luke V:29). On another occasion He
goes to the house of one of the "chief Pharisees" to eat bread on the
Sabbath day (Luke XIV:1).
Several times He commends the qualities of thrift and economy (Matt.
XXV:21, 23; Luke XII:42-44; Matt. XXV:3, 4; XXIV:45, 46; Luke XIX:17,
19). He constantly extols charity—the generous giving to the poor—as
one of the chief virtues, but the practice of this virtue on a
considerable scale necessarily implies the prior accumulation of riches.
The evidence of the four Gospels proves that Jesus, without hesitation,
compromised with the evil of riches. He praised voluntary poverty as an
ideal for those who were supposing themselves to be already perfect,
and, perhaps, demanded it of His apostles and those who assumed to be
the ministers of His Word. But He imposed no such hard and fast rule for
the rank and file of His followers. He did not go about fanatically
denouncing the rich men as evil-doers and malefactors. On the contrary,
He made them His friends, singled them out for special marks of His
favor and regard, though constantly urging on them the deceitfulness of
riches and the necessity of generous giving to the poor. His friendship
for Mary, the sister of Lazarus, was so great that in her case He even
condoned the use of the precious ointment for a purpose which He must
have regarded as superfluous, instead of its being given to the poor
(Matt. XXVI:6; Mark XIV:3; John XII:3).
Other instances illustrate the readiness of Jesus to compromise with
evil—to choose the less of two evils—when the conditions of practical
human life demanded it. A notable instance of this was in the matter of
paying tribute to the Romans. Undoubtedly Jesus, like all the other
Jews, regarded the imposition on them of Roman sovereignty as an
injustice—as a very great evil. But, under existing conditions,
resistance to the Roman power was hopeless. A refusal to pay tribute by
the Jews would have brought on them imprisonment, death and countless
sufferings, and, if persisted in, would have resulted in the enslavement
or extermination of the race. In putting to Jesus the question: "Is it
lawful to give tribute unto Cæsar or not?" the Pharisees thought they
had framed a dilemma from which He could not escape. If He had been a
fanatical non-compromiser, He could only have answered the question in
the negative. The Pharisees would then have denounced Him to the Romans,
and thereby compassed His immediate death before His mission was
completed.
His answer, "Render therefore unto Cæsar the things which are Cæsar's,
and unto God the things that are God's"—is pregnant with meaning to all
religious bigots and fanatics if they could only open their minds to its
significance. This earth is not a heaven, and cannot be made one so long
as human beings are fallible and imperfect. Concessions and compromises
must be constantly made between the material necessities of the body and
the ethical ideals of the spirit. The economic ideal of the "greatest
good to the greatest number" can no more be ignored by the theologian of
today in formulating rules of conduct for humanity, than it was by Jesus
in His time. However wrong and unjust in theory it was for the Jews to
be subject to an alien race, still in practice the Roman rule was
reasonably mild and humane. As between resistance and obedience to this
rule, the latter was much the less evil. Consequently, Jesus wisely and
sanely compromised with this evil and both paid tribute Himself (Matt.
XVII:24-27), and advised His disciples to do likewise (Matt. XXII:21;
Mark XII:17; Luke XX:25).
Again, carrying out the same idea of compromising with the existing
evils of government, Jesus commands His disciples to "observe and do"
whatsoever is bidden by the scribes and Pharisees, who "sit in Moses'
seat," at the same time warning them not to imitate or follow the
Pharisees' "works" (Matt. XXIII:2, 3).
Undoubtedly Jesus considered it an evil "to set a man at variance
against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the
daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Matt. X:35). He could
foresee that this evil would result from the preaching of His Gospel.
But better this evil, even, if it sent a "sword" on earth, than the
greater evil that His Gospel should not be preached.
Unchastity in a woman is surely a most grievous evil. To the
non-compromiser, the "scarlet woman" is a symbol of the lowest depth of
vice, and no condemnation is too severe for her. But, on two occasions,
Jesus dismissed the erring woman with His forgiveness (John VIII:11;
Luke VII:47).
In fact, the two utterances of Jesus—"he that is without sin among you,
let him first cast a stone at her" (John VIII:7), and "why beholdest
thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam
that is in thine own eye" (Matt. VII:2)—cut at the very root of the
non-compromiser's position. For, in carrying on his crusade against his
pet evil-doers, it would be fatal to be obliged to stop to answer
objections that he may not be infallible in deciding what is evil, and
that he may himself have habits considered by others as evil as the one
he is denouncing. For instance, many a prominent non-compromiser among
the clergy is living in comparative ease, if not luxury. When he reads
the standard of living set by Jesus for the ministers of His Word (Matt.
X:9; Mark VI:8; Luke IX:3; X:4; XXII:35), he must admit that he is every
day compromising with the ideals of Jesus—with the evil of riches.
Compromise is the rule of human life. Each individual, as he tries to
follow the Socratic advice, "know thyself," finds that most of his
actions are a compromise between his good impulses and his evil
impulses. Few men are a Dr. Jekyll during the day and a Mr. Hyde during
the night. Most men are partly Jekyls and partly Hydes all the time. As
the individual makes his way in business and society, he learns more and
more every day, if he has common sense, the wisdom and advisability of
compromise. He that is always bent on "having his own way" will usually
find that his way does not go far, and results in unhappiness for
himself and others. Happy marriages are founded on a compromise of
individual tastes, habits and opinions. Parents win and retain the
affection of their children, not by imposing on them their own
inflexible laws of right and wrong, but by modifying these laws to meet
the different tastes, habits and opinions of the children. Success in
business, in law, in politics, is usually associated with the faculty of
making reasonable compromises. The wisest legislation is usually a
compromise between conflicting interests and opinions.
It is not too much to say that compromise is the corner stone of every
modern democratic society. It is a necessary consequence of the "rule of
the majority," since the majority of today may be the minority of
tomorrow. To find a society of his taste, the non-compromiser should
seek some negro tribe in darkest Africa, where the witch-doctors permit
no deviations from the prescribed theological cult. Or, in matters
political, he might find much to admire in the administrative system of
Louis the XIVth, with his famous aphorism, "L'Etat, C'est Moi."
In international affairs every treaty of peace, unless its terms are
dictated by a strong power to a weak one, is a compromise between the
opposing views of right and wrong held by the parties. Logically, the
non-compromiser should be generally opposed to treaties, as involving
necessarily some sacrifice of his principles of right to the demands of
the other party. In the period from 1844 to 1846, we narrowly escaped
war with England in the dispute over the boundary between ourselves and
Canada, because a strong Jingo, non-compromising party started the
popular cry of "Fifty-Four Forty or Fight." This class of thinkers would
undoubtedly have opposed the celebrated compromises of Henry Clay,
which, whatever might have been said against them at the time, have, in
the light of history, the incalculable merit of having postponed the
inevitable conflict between the North and the South, until the former
had so grown in population and resources that it could preserve the
unity of the nation. Considering the hard, and sometimes doubtful
struggle, which the North went through in winning victory in the
sixties, there can be little doubt that the result would have been two
divided nations if the issues between the two sections had been
submitted to the arbitrament of arms in 1820, in 1832, or even in 1850.
As the intolerance of the non-compromisers will lead some of them to
oppose treaties of peace, so the same quality in others will lead them
to make nuisances of themselves in war.
During the Great War, the nations, especially England and the United
States, had considerable trouble with the "conscientious objector," who
is really a non-compromiser under a different name. Supposing him to be
honest in his opinions (as some of them were), the logic of his position
was unanswerable from the view-point of the non-compromiser. War is
unquestionably a great evil, and most obnoxious to the doctrines of the
Sermon on the Mount. If there is to be no compromise with evil, then a
Christian magistrate has no warrant to compel the conscientious objector
to go out and slaughter, or give his help, directly or indirectly,
towards the slaughter of his fellow Christians.
The true answer to this argument is, of course, obvious, although the
magistrates, themselves infected with this pernicious, non-compromise
doctrine, did not always make it.
In this fallible, imperfect human life, it is often necessary to
compromise with evil—that is, as between two evils, to choose the less.
Jesus both preached and practiced the doctrine of choosing the less
evil, even in the extreme case of war. For He urged the spreading of His
Gospel, although He foresaw that it would divide father from son and
bring "fire" and a "sword" upon earth (Matt. X:34; Mark XIII:8; Luke
XII:49). Now, in the case of this war, the vast majority of the nation
has decided that it is a less evil to go to war than to be enslaved by
Germany. So, war it is to be. But it is unjust—an evil of the greatest
magnitude—that a few individuals should reap all the benefits of
preserving the nation from German slavery, without bearing the
corresponding burdens. Consequently, the conscientious objectors must
either submit to the decision of the majority or seek some other
country, following the example of the Puritans, Huguenots and other
"conscientious objectors" of past times.
It is apparent that if the door is once opened to allow people to shirk
the civil duties imposed upon them by the society in which they live,
the exemption cannot be limited to the case of war alone on the ground
of their conscientious convictions. In the Supreme Court records of one
of our States (possibly in several), there will be found a case where a
man and woman (apparently respectable and generally law-abiding
citizens) suffered a criminal conviction, because they had
"conscientious objections" to legalizing their union by a conventional
marriage ceremony. It is easy to imagine a man having conscientious
objections to jury duty—the condemning men to death or imprisonment, or
the transferring of property from one to another on account of the
"technicalities" of the law. Or, why should a man not have conscientious
objections to paying his taxes if they are to be used, in part at least,
for a purpose which he considers evil? Evidently the field for evasion
is a large one, and the only protection for society is to rigidly insist
that the "conscientious objector," whether the case in hand be war or
something else, either submit himself to the will of the majority or
seek some other country more congenial to his peculiar ideas.
At the risk of repetition, we will collect again some of the utterances
of Jesus which seem irreconcilable with the narrow, intolerant ideas of
the non-compromisers and the sacro-sancts: Judge not, that ye be not
judged; he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at
her; how wilt thou say to thy brother, let me pull the mote out of thine
eye, and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye; blessed are the merciful,
for they shall obtain mercy; blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall
be called the children of God; whosoever, therefore, shall humble
himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of
heaven; joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than
over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance; on these
two commandments hang all the law and the prophets, viz., Love the Lord
thy God with all thy heart, soul and mind, and love thy neighbor as
thyself.
Hypocrisy did not die with the Pharisees. To an observer of modern life,
it might seem as if it has as rank and luxuriant growth today as in the
time of Jesus. The modern Christian must apparently keep up the
hypocrisy that he is always following Jesus, when, as a matter of fact,
he is every day making compromises with Jesus' ideals, in some instances
deviating widely from His teachings, and, in others, going diametrically
against them. The question is, if, in these points of divergence, it is
not better to speak the plain truth than to indulge in the hypocrisy of
"following Jesus." For instance, take the case of divorce laws. Jesus
explicitly condemned all divorces, except possibly on the ground of
adultery. His language is so definite, repeated in all three of the
Synoptics, that no quibbling over words or casuistry of logic can escape
the result. Consequently, when a Christian state authorizes divorce for
desertion, cruelty, drunkenness, etc., it is not following Jesus, but
going directly contrary to His laws. In this matter the Roman Catholics
are the orthodox Christians and most of the Protestants are heterodox.
The point here made has nothing to do with the expediency of these
divorce laws. The conditions of human life have so vastly changed—it is
quite possible that Jesus, speaking today, might lay down much less
stringent rules on this subject than He did two thousand years ago. The
important fact is that we have here an undeniable instance of
Christians, not only making a compromise with the acknowledged evil of
divorce, but also completely ignoring the views of Jesus in making the
compromise. Those who condone, or tacitly approve, these divorce laws
(as do the great majority of the Protestants in the United States)
should certainly be slow, in the matter of other evils, to urge "no
compromise with evil," or bring forward some utterances of Jesus as the
final argument on the subject. Let them first consider the beam in their
own eye.
It would probably surprise the professed follower of Jesus in present
times to realize in just how many matters he is not, in fact, following
Jesus. It may be well to enumerate a few of these important matters.
This is not done in a spirit of criticizing the weakness and
shortcomings of Christians, but because some of the questions involved
vitally affect the present and future welfare of society. In the
discussion of these questions the name and authority of Jesus are
frequently invoked, and very justly so. For, even those who do not
concede His parentage by the Holy Ghost, admire and revere Him as the
Greatest Teacher. His word or example on one side of a question is not
lightly to be disregarded. But, if it is found that, in some matters,
the followers of Jesus do compromise with, diverge from, or directly
contradict Jesus' teachings, then the ultimate query, becomes, not
whether Jesus said yes or no to the question in hand, but, conceding
that He said yes or no, Is there sufficient justification for departing
from His teaching in this matter, as has been done in other important
matters? Without noticing individual short-comings, sins of omission,
etc., which may be left to the individual conscience and its God, we
will take up only questions of wide import, affecting the present and
future welfare of societies and nations. Nor will we enter into the
field of theological disputation over conflicting or ambiguous texts,
but will cite no instance where Jesus has not made His position so clear
that there can be no dispute over it.
The following are instances where modern Christian communities
compromise with, diverge from, or go directly opposite to the teachings
of Jesus.
(a) Wars between two Christian nations where each invokes the assistance
of Jesus in the slaughtering of its enemies, and the victor thanks Jesus
for its success in the blood-thirsty game.
(b) The substitution of the first day of the week for the seventh, as
the Sabbath day.
(c) Divorces (at least for any cause except adultery).
(d) Public prayers and long prayers.
(e) Public fasting.
(f) Sunday Blue Laws.
(g) Prohibition as against Temperance.
(h) Creeds, articles of religion, pomp and ceremony in church services,
and other observances, which Jesus included in the word "sacrifice," as
opposed to "mercy."
It is unnecessary to waste words in proving that war (at least between
two Christian nations) is utterly irreconcilable with the Sermon on the
Mount. But, as has been shown, it may, in any given case, be the less of
two evils, and therefore, justifiable, as a compromise. As to a
defensive war against a Moslem, Oriental or other infidel invasion,
which seeks to uproot the Christian faith and subjugate a Christian
nation, Jesus has apparently given His sanction to such a war (Matt.
X:34, 35, 36; Luke XII:51, 52, 53). It might, perhaps, even be argued
that this sanction covered an offensive war, the purpose of which was to
establish Christianity among an infidel people.
But, beyond this, some wars must be justifiable, as the less of two
evils, under Jesus' sane practice of compromising with evil. If the
independence (the life) of a nation is attacked, there is no warrant in
the four Gospels for supposing that Jesus would advise a policy of
passive non-resistance. Just as when the life of the individual, or the
life or honor of his mother, sister, or daughter are threatened by some
beast in human form, he is justified in resistance, although the taking
of human life results. A standard of ethics countenancing such a
surrender of the primary instincts of self-preservation might be suited
to a race of spineless invertebrates, but could never be accepted by
human beings, who are the evolutionary product of countless ages of a
struggle for existence.
But, conceding that some wars may be justifiable, the general rule holds
good that wars are un-Christian. The exception must be established
beyond a reasonable doubt. As between two Christian nations, the one
attacked can usually plead self-defense in at least partial
justification, but the aggressor must always have a difficult case to
maintain before the judgment seat of Jesus.
Looking back over the wars of the United States, there are few that
would stand the acid test of Jesus' judgment.
The war of the Revolution was due, in the last analysis, to the fact
that there were a large number of prominent men in the colonies
determined on independence at any cost. If war was a necessary means to
attain that end, these leaders were for war, without shilly-shallying
over the moral justification for the conflict. The men of that
generation were rather fond of attitudinizing, and were prone to the use
of high-sounding phrases like "no taxation without representation,"
"give me liberty or give me death," etc. The Declaration of Independence
starts out with one of those phrases—"All men are created equal, and
endowed with inalienable Rights to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of
Happiness." This was at that time such a palpable untruth and hypocrisy,
that one wonders if our forefathers had no sense of humor. Of course, to
be true, the sentence should have been added, "except certain persons of
African descent, whom we hold and propose to hold as slaves."[56]
Stripping the grievances of the colonists of their heated and
declamatory rhetoric, their real sufferings under the misrule of Great
Britain were far less than those of the Jews under the Romans, when
Jesus said, "Render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's." Many of the
foremost statesmen in England supported the justness of the colonists'
claims, and most of the obnoxious taxes were repealed before the
Declaration of Independence. With time and patience the difficulties
between the two countries could probably have been adjusted without war,
as was the case with Canada, except for the underlying desire of the
Americans for independence.
To avoid misunderstanding, it should be added, that, before the bar of
Nature—under the laws of the struggle for existence and survival of the
fittest—the colonies were fully justified in taking up arms when they
did. The pigheaded obstinacy of George III in insisting on his
"prerogatives," and the blind stupidity of his ministers in urging
measures of little value to England, but irritating to the colonies,
wounding their pride and making them apprehensive of future, more
serious encroachments on their liberties, furnished ample warrant for
ceasing longer to turn the other cheek.
Furthermore, before Nature's forum, the plea that the end justifies the
means, is always of controlling force. History proves that the
independence of the United States was sure to come sooner or later, and
that it was better for both countries and for the world that the two
nations should be under separate governments, and each work out its own
destiny.
The war of 1812 was, before the bar of Jesus, without any excuse, and,
like the Crimean war, was futile of results. The main questions at issue
between the United States and England, and about which the war started,
were not even mentioned in the final treaty of peace. The American
grievances were real enough, but a very moderate exercise of Christian
forbearance on England's part would have avoided any necessity of war.
These grievances, bad as they were, had been endured by the United
States for some twelve years, and a delay of some two years more would
have brought a natural end to them with the fall of Napoleon. This war
should never have occurred between two Christian peoples, and is
unjustified by any good results that followed from it.
The war with Mexico in 1848 was simply an aggressive, land-grabbing,
politicians' war, and will always be a blot on the Christianity of the
United States. The lands of which Mexico was robbed were of course of
great material value to the United States, but the less said about the
justness of their acquisition the better.
The question of the Civil War is complicated by the moral issue of the
abolition of slavery, underlying the political issue of the right of the
South to secede, which was the ostensible cause of the war. Slavery in
the United States was an evil, both ethically and economically, and, as
its abolition was a result of the war, that war is justifiable both in
the court of Jesus and in that of Nature. But that result was an
incident of the war, and the North would never have taken up arms on the
simple issue of forcing the abolition of slavery on the South.
On the ostensible, political issue which started the war—the right of
the South to secede from the Union—there is room for much difference of
opinion. Despite the technical and labored constitutional arguments of
Von Holst and others, it is rather difficult to understand why, if the
South believed that its happiness and prosperity were being imperiled by
a further continuance of its union with the North, it had not the same
right to break that union in 1861 as the colonies had the right to break
their union with England in 1776. At the outbreak of the war, there were
many in the North, beside Horace Greeley and Vallandingham, who thought
it morally wrong to compel the South by force to remain in a union that
had become hateful to it.
A great writer on American history (Sumner) has said that whenever some
geographical section of our country becomes saturated with the idea that
its material interests are being sacrificed to the interests of other
parts of the country, and it sees no hope of redress, it will begin to
talk secession. It was true of New England at the time of the Hartford
Convention. It was true of the South in 1820, 1831 and 1860. It was true
of the Pacific States shortly after the Civil War, when they feared that
Congress would not pass their desired Chinese Exclusion Acts.
It would be difficult to justify the Spanish War of 1898, in the court
of Jesus. It was mostly the work of the newspapers and politicians.
Nine-tenths of the people of the United States were ignorant of
suffering great grievances from Spain, until the Jingo journals
demonstrated the fact to them. It is safe to say that this war would
never have occurred if Spain had been a great naval power like Germany
or Great Britain. The same assertion may be made of the war against
Mexico in 1848. In studying the Jingo spirit which encourages wars, it
will usually be found that the strength of this spirit varies in the
inverse ratio to the supposed war-strength of the other party to the
fight. Nations are much like school boys in this respect. It is quite
probable that the war of 1812 would not have been brought on, except
for the mistaken idea of Henry Clay and his hot-headed followers from
the West that the United States could easily overrun Canada, and dictate
peace to England in Halifax.
Our participation in the Great War of 1914 was forced upon us, and was
amply justifiable, both in the court of Jesus and in that of Nature.
When Germany sunk our ships on the high seas, it struck at our
independence as a nation, as vitally as though it had invaded and seized
a part of our territory. On this issue we had waged war with England in
1812, and with the Algerine pirates in 1815. To have yielded this point
to Germany would have been the first step toward international slavery.
But the war itself was utterly unjustifiable. The fact that it could
occur nearly 2,000 years after the death of Jesus, only illustrates how
little actual progress the teachings of Jesus inculcating peace had made
against the forces of nature urging nations into conflict with each
other.
To the impartial student of our history, it must be apparent that the
Sermon on the Mount, so far as preventing wars, has been practically a
dead letter. The condemnation of war has been superficial and
insincere—nothing better than simple hypocrisy. It has been a service
of the lip and not of the heart. The outside of the cup has been kept
clean with a great parade of noble humanitarian sentiments, but the
inside has been full of corruption.
Except among some numerically small bodies like the Quakers and a few
others, there has never been any strong living, effective public
sentiment in the United States condemning wars as unrighteous, save as a
last extremity. This is well illustrated by our two disputes with
England over the Maine and Oregon boundaries. These boundary disputes
were most intricate and complicated, the evidence was uncertain and
conflicting, no question of principle was involved, and they were
eminently matters to be settled by negotiation, mutual compromise, or
arbitration. But in each case the Jingo clamor for war spread over the
whole country. Polk's campaign cry in 1844 was, "Fifty-Four Forty or
Fight." But there was no organized, effective opposition on the ground
that this war would be unrighteous and un-Christian. If England had been
as weak as Mexico, or if Tyler and Polk had been "fire-eaters," like
Andrew Jackson, we would, beyond doubt, have had war in each case,
although there could have been no justification for it in the court of
Jesus.
Every war, whether right or wrong, has been not merely condoned, but
fully approved by the vast majority of the religious people of our
country. Success in war has been the best stepping stone to the
Presidency, as is shown by the instances of Jackson, Harrison, Taylor
and Grant. There is no record of any Jingo statesman being punished by
his constituents for precipitating the United States into unnecessary
and unrighteous wars, and the supreme hypocrisy of all is, that, in
every war, whether morally justifiable or not, the followers of Jesus
crowd the churches to pray for His assistance, and to thank Him for
victory when won, as though He were sanctioning these infractions of His
Sermon on the Mount.
The late President Roosevelt has expressed his views on our wars, and he
may certainly be taken as fairly representative of a large portion of
the American people. He was a devout Christian, but singularly free from
hypocrisy. He was given to "speakin' out in meetin'," on occasions with
a frankness that was embarrassing to his followers, and even later to
himself.[57]
In his life of Thomas H. Benton, American Statesmen Series, page 261, he
says, in treating of this boundary dispute with Canada:
"The matter was sure to be decided in favor of the strongest; and, say
what we will about the justice and right of the various claims, the
honest truth is, that the comparative might of the different nations,
and not the comparative righteousness of their several causes, was the
determining factor in the settlement. Mexico lost her northern provinces
by no law of right, but simply by the law of the longest sword—the same
law that gave India to England."[58]
On page 262 he says: "It would be untrue to say that Nations have not at
times proved themselves capable of acting with great disinterestedness
and generosity towards other peoples; but such conduct is not very
common at the best, and although it often may be desirable, it
certainly is not always so. If the matter in dispute is of great
importance, and if there is a doubt as to which side is right, then
the strongest party to the controversy is pretty sure to give itself the
benefit of that doubt; and international morality will have to take
tremendous strides in advance before this ceases to be the case."[59]
On page 268 he says: "No foot of soil to which we had any title[60] in
the Northwest should have been given up; we were the people who could
use it best, and we ought to have taken it all. The prize was well
worth winning, and would warrant a good deal of risk being run."
On page 289, in speaking of the final compromise and settlement of the
Oregon boundary dispute, he says: "Yet as there was no particular reason
why we should show any generosity in our diplomatic dealings with
England, it may well be questioned whether it would not have been better
to have left things as they were until we could have taken all. Wars
are, of course, as a rule to be avoided, but they are far better than
certain kinds of peace. Every war in which we have been engaged, except
the one with Mexico, has been justifiable in its origin, and each one,
without any exception whatever, has left us better off, taking both
moral[61] and material considerations into account, than we should have
been if we had not waged it."
These citations, reflecting, as they undoubtedly do, prevalent American
sentiment in the past and present, establish the utter hypocrisy of any
claim that the Sermon on the Mount has had any practical, effective
power in determining the actions of our nation concerning wars, whether
justifiable or not.
It is uncertain just when Sunday (the first day of the week) began to be
generally observed among Christians as a holy day. The early Gentile
converts were naturally averse to all Jewish rites and ceremonies,
including circumcision, Sabbath-day observances, etc. It would seem
that, in St. Paul's time, more or less of them held the position that
all days of the week were alike, and no one of them especially holy
(Romans XIV:5, 6; Col. II:16, 17). But at least two or three centuries
had elapsed after Jesus' death, before Sunday was established as a day
holy to the Lord, and began to have attributed to it the sanctity with
which the Jews surrounded their Mosaic Sabbath.
Jesus never sanctioned the observance of the first day of the week as a
holy day. No text can be cited from the Old Testament, or the four
Gospels, that gives even color of authority to this observance. Sunday
is a purely human institution, established by the Christians of the
first five centuries, to suit their own convenience, or satisfy their
anti-Jewish prejudices. As a Biblical festival, it is no more sacred
than Monday or Tuesday, or any other day.
This matter is not commented on because of its practical importance,
since it would now be inadvisable to change our legal day of rest to
correspond with the Biblical Sabbath. But it affords a fair illustration
of the prevalent cant and hypocrisy of the day. How frequently do the
modern Pharisees denounce the man, who, for instance, goes fishing or
hunting on Sunday, instead of going to church, as a contemner of Jesus,
a violator of God's holy laws, etc., when in fact they have not the
slightest authority from Jesus to do so. Would it not be well for them
to consider the beam in their own eye? On this point, the Seventh-day
Baptists and others like them are the consistent followers of Jesus, and
not the Roman Catholics and the great bulk of the Protestants.
Under the Mosaic law a husband, dissatisfied with his wife, could "write
her a bill of a divorcement" if he had found "some uncleanness in her"
(Deut. XXIV:1; Matt. XIX:7).
According to Matthew, Jesus condemned divorce except for the cause of
"fornication" (Matt. V:32; XIX:9).
According to Mark and Luke, He condemned divorce for any cause (Mark
X:11; Luke XVI:18).
All the States of our Union, except New York and South Carolina,
authorize divorce on other grounds than adultery. In New York divorces
are granted only on the ground of adultery, and in South Carolina no
divorces are granted. (World's Almanac, 1920, pp. 369-371.)
In 1916, there were 1,040,778 marriages and 112,036 divorces in the
United States, of which about 11 per cent were on the ground of
"unfaithful." (World's Almanac, 1920, pp. 151-152.)
But the marriages of the Roman Catholics, about 1-7 of our population
(World's Almanac, p. 484), should fairly be excluded, since divorce is
practically non-existent among them. This would leave 890,000 marriages
to 112,000 divorces.
There was then, in 1916, something more than one divorce to every ten
marriages among our total population, or, excluding Roman Catholics,
something more than one divorce to every eight marriages.
In the face of these figures, it must be conceded that this prohibition
of Jesus has become practically a dead letter among the Protestant
Christians of the United States.
To the innocent party to a divorce, little, if any, stigma attaches
either in business, social or religious circles, and nothing but a
temporary condemnation is visited on the guilty party. The plain truth
is, that divorce has become a matter of everyday life, regrettable but
not sinful, and that, on this point, the followers of Jesus (excepting
the Roman Catholics) have simply substituted their ideas of right and
wrong for His.
It should be added again, to avoid misunderstanding, that it is not the
intention hereby to condemn our present divorce laws. On the contrary,
it is quite probable that, if Jesus were legislating for the complex
societies of today, instead of for the comparatively simpler
civilization of His day, He would materially modify His stringent views
on divorce, in a sane concession to the weakness and frailty of human
nature. Certainly, to one who has seen many ill-mated couples seeking
relief in the divorce courts, and subsequently making happy marriages,
to the mutual benefit of themselves, their children, their friends and
society in general, divorce laws cannot seem all evil. The children, if
there are any, are the main factor to be considered, and no conditions
of life are likely to be much worse for them than to be brought up by
two mutually unloving, unsympathetic parents, and, as usually happens,
in an atmosphere of continual bickering and quarreling.
This subject has already been treated under Note 22, supra, page 23,
and it has been shown that Jesus clearly condemned public prayers, long
prayers and frequent prayers (Matt. VI: 5, 8).
The evils of the prayer-habit (as a public ceremony) are many and
obvious.
(1) It is a useless waste of time and energy that had better be expended
on works of mercy. God already knows what things we need, and will grant
them, if advisable, without prayer (Matt. VI:8). For instance, how much
time has been spent by the human race in praying for things which
subsequent events proved were, or would have been, injurious instead of
beneficial? How many there are, who, in looking back over their lives,
can see that the realization of one of their (at the time) dearest
wishes turned out later to be the most unfortunate thing that ever
happened to them.
(2) It encourages the formation of a low and unworthy conception of God
as a being to be propitiated and placated, like the deities of barbarous
peoples. Insensibly the idea grows that the more frequent and the more
zealous the prayers, the more likely they are to be granted. An instance
of this will be found in the custom started during the Great War of
every one on the streets and everywhere, praying exactly at noon for the
success of our armies. The idea underlying this was apparently that of
"a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together," although the
latter requirement was hardly fulfilled, since the prayers in New York
were several hours old before those in San Francisco were begun. Nothing
could be imagined much more inconsistent with Jesus' regulations on the
subject of prayer.
Furthermore, the prayer-habit begets a sickening tone of servility in
the worshipper, coupled with the ascription to the Deity of an equally
sickening love of adulation. In many prayer meetings the speakers seem
to vie with each other in seeking terms of humility and self abasement
for themselves (miserable worms being rather a favorite) and the most
exaggerated titles of honor for the Deity. One would think they were a
lot of grovelling slaves, prostrating themselves before the throne of
some barbaric despot. Take the "Te Deum," which is a prayer in the form
of a hymn. Can it be supposed that the fulsome adulation with which it
is filled can be pleasing to the God of the universe? And yet, why is it
sung, except on that supposition? What respect would we have for an
earthly father who delighted in having his children assemble every
morning, and chant their praises of his goodness, his excellence, his
power, etc.? And yet should not the ideal of the heavenly Father be
higher than that of the earthly father?
(3) The prayer-habit tends to emasculate the moral strength of its
devotees. It is much easier to pray to God for help and, so to speak,
shift the responsibility on Him, than to work out one's own troubles by
one-self. There is an old saying—Pray, but with thy hand on the plough.
Too much praying tends towards neglect of the plough, or, to use
Cromwell's phrase, the keeping one's powder dry.
(4) Another evil is that it tends to encourage a self-righteousness on
the part of its devotees (Luke XVIII:11). When prayer is regarded as a
duty, the sequel to a prayer-meeting is a feeling of satisfaction in
duty well performed. God has not only been well pleased by a display of
humility on the part of His worshippers, but has also been intelligently
advised on a variety of subjects, about which He may have been in
uncertainty.
Compare the prayer meeting of today with one according to Jesus'
precepts. There would be no long prayers (Matt. XXIII:14; Luke XX:47).
The meeting would open with the Lord's Prayer. Then, as each one thought
over his various sins of omission and commission, and repented of them,
he would arise and say, "God be merciful to me, a sinner" (Luke
XVIII:13). The peace and silent meditation of such a gathering would
tend to produce the humble and contrite heart, which is the offering
pleasing to God.
(5) But the worst evil, as pointed out by Jesus, is that of substituting
a false standard of righteousness, words for acts, sacrifice for mercy
(Matt. XII:7). When prayers are regarded as a duty and their performance
a meritorious act, their devotees are quite apt to become like the
Pharisees, who paid "tithe of mint, anise and cummin," but neglected
"judgment, mercy and faith" (Matt. XXIII:23).
The average, easy-going Christian can without difficulty square his
account with God through numerous prayers, or even rest easy in his
conscience with a slight balance in his favor. But it must be almost
impossible for the believer in, and faithful adherent of,
prayer-meetings to rise to the sublime conception of the Almighty,
voiced not only by Jesus, but by the later prophets of the Old
Testament.
"Bring no more vain oblations (prayers or fasting): incense (prayers and
fasting) is an abomination to me. The new moons and Sabbaths (ceremonial
church services), the calling of assemblies (prayer-meetings), I cannot
away with; it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting. Your new moons and
your appointed feasts, my soul hateth; they are a trouble unto me; I am
weary to bear them."
"Learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge the
fatherless, plead for the widow" (Isaiah I:13, 14, 17).
"And what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly and love
mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God" (Micah VI:8).
This subject also, has already been discussed under note 20, supra,
but for convenience, reference is again made to the passages in which
Jesus condemns public fasting, or fasting as a ceremony (Matt. VI:16,
17, 18; Matt. IX:14; Mark II:18; Luke V:33; Luke X:7).
Nearly everything which has been said under the last subhead concerning
public prayers applies with equal force to ceremonial fasting, and need
not be repeated here.
Assuming there is to be ascribed to the modern Sunday the same sanctity
as a holy day that should be accorded to the Sabbath which Jesus
observed, His views on the proper observance of the day are summed up in
the one sentence: "The Sabbath was made for man and not man for the
Sabbath" (Mark II:27).
The basic idea of the old Puritan Sunday was the direct opposite of that
of Jesus. Following the old Mosaic law, which Jesus combatted, the
Puritans planned their celebration of the day for the "honor and glory"
of God, and not for the benefit of man. Conceiving this God, not as a
loving Father, but as a stern, austere Judge, who, according to Jonathan
Edwards, had reserved the bulk of mankind for burning, who demanded
"sacrifice" and not "mercy," and was therefore to be propitiated and
placated, the Puritan ministers succeeded, while they had the power, in
imposing on their congregations a most atrocious travesty of the Sabbath
of Jesus. Religious services were piled up like Pelion on Ossa, and
every movement of the day was marked by gloom and austerity. No wonder
that William Lloyd Garrison said of the observance of Sunday at a much
later date: "The Sabbath, as now recognized and enforced, is one of the
main pillars of priest-craft and superstition, and the stronghold of
merely ceremonial religion."
Jesus did not object to the Jewish observance of the Sabbath on the
ground that it was too "lax" (to use a modern term), but on just the
opposite ground—that certain of their restrictions on man's freedom of
action on that day were unnecessary. But the Sabbath of that time, as
the Jews celebrated it, and as, from all the accounts in the four
Gospels, Jesus celebrated it, was a day of joyous rest and recreation,
and in no sense a day of spiritual maceration.
"The same character of cheerfulness, of happy rest from the toil and
turmoil of the world's business; of quiet and peaceful return unto one's
self; of joyous communion with friends and kindred over good cheer—in
short, of mental and bodily relaxation and recreation that strengthens,
braces, pacifies, and maketh the heart glad, while the sublime ideas
which it symbolizes are recalled to the memory at every step and turn
seems to have prevailed at all times down to our own, among the Jews."
"Suffice it to reiterate that in every class, every age and every
variety of Jews, from first to last, the Sabbath has been absolutely a
day of joy and happiness, nay, of dancing, of singing, of eating and
drinking, and of luxury."
International Cyclopædia, Sabbath, Vol. XII, p. 857.
This is the kind of a Sabbath which the Gospels picture Jesus as
celebrating, attending feasts in the houses of His friends, walking in
the fields with His disciples, or meeting with them in public places,
and healing the sick when occasion offered (Matt. XII:1; Mark II:23;
Luke VI:1; Luke XIV:1; John V:1, 2, 9; IX:1, 14).
Hard as it may be for Anglo-Saxon prejudice to admit, yet it seems to be
true, that the Spanish Sunday—mass in the morning and a bull-fight in
the afternoon—is nearer than the Puritan Sunday to Jesus' ideas of the
proper observance of the day, although He would probably approve, as
little as we do, that particular form of amusement.
There is at the present time a strong and perhaps growing tendency
towards enacting Sunday Blue Laws. By this is meant legislation
restricting man's freedom of action on that day, which is based, not on
any benefit to the individual or society, but on the old Mosaic idea of
the supposed sanctity of the day—that it is holy to the Lord and He
will be pleased by a ceremonial observance of it, different from other
days.
Insofar as the professed followers of Jesus urge the enactment of such
Blue Laws, it seems clear that they are not following Jesus, but going
contrary to His precept and example.
There can be no possible doubt as to the position of Jesus on this
question.
At the outset of His prophetic career, He drew the line sharply between
Himself and John the Baptist in this matter.
John drank no wine and practiced fasting.
Jesus drank wine and condemned ceremonial fasting.
Each by word and example inculcated these different ideas on his
respective followers (Matt. XI:18, 19; Luke V:33).[62]
At the marriage in Cana, He furnishes wine for the guests when the
supply runs out (John II:1, 2). In His instructions to His apostles He
tells them to eat and drink such things as are set before them (Luke
X:7). He uses wine in the celebration of the Last Supper, and promises
His apostles to drink with them of the "fruit of the vine" in heaven
(Matt. XXVI:29; Mark XIV:25; Luke XXII:18, 30).
When Mahomet appeared, he followed the example of John the Baptist, and
prohibited the drinking of wine. Since his time, on two points the line
has always been sharply drawn between the Gospel of Jesus and that of
Mahomet. The orthodox Christian could eat pork and drink wine, while the
orthodox Mohammedan could do neither.
The majority of professed Christians have presumably supported the
recent prohibition legislation in the United States. In so doing, they
are not following Jesus, but going directly contrary to His precept and
example. They are in effect saying that, on this point, Mahomet knew
better than Jesus what was for the best good of the human race.
Under the term "sacrifice," Jesus included all ceremonial religious
worship, and tried constantly to impress on His followers that this was
not the offering pleasing to God, but, rather, deeds of mercy (Matt.
IX:13; XXIII:23).
Realizing how strong is the tendency in human nature to impute to itself
righteousness on account of its "tithes of mint and anise and cummin,"
He carried His condemnation of ceremonies into the smallest details.
This is well illustrated by His enjoining His apostles not to wash
before eating (Matt. XV:1, 2 and 20; Luke XI:37, 38). As He states, His
objection was not to washing in itself, but because the Pharisees had
made a religious ceremony of it.
Simplicity is the marked characteristic of all Jesus' acts of devotion.
While it was His custom to preach in the synagogue on the Sabbath day,
yet, so far as appears in the four Gospels, Matthew's Sermon on the
Mount, Luke's Sermon on the Plain, the Lord's Prayer, and most of Jesus'
important discourses were delivered, not in the synagogue and on the
Sabbath day, but wherever time and place suited His convenience—from a
ship, on a mountain, on a plain, in His own house, etc. (Matt. V:1; X:1;
XII:2; XVIII:1; XXIII:1; XXIV:3; Mark IV:1; X:1; Luke V:3; VI:17; X:1;
XI:1; XII:1; John III:2; IX:40; XII:22, 23; XIV; XV; XVI; XVII).
To demonstrate how far modern Christianity has traveled from the ideas
of Jesus, it is only necessary to attend some ceremonial service in an
Episcopalian or Catholic Cathedral, or some protracted prayer meeting of
one of the Evangelical denominations.
Out of the fruitful field of Pauline theology, there sprang, even within
a few centuries after the Crucifixion, a plentiful crop of the direst
evils that have ever afflicted mankind—creeds and definitions of
belief. Fortunately, disputatious theologians are now limited to the
weapons of pen and ink, but in the Middle Ages oceans of blood were
spilt over these religious quarrels.
If we could suppose the Westminster Confession of Faith, or the
Thirty-nine Articles, or the Augsburg Confession to be submitted to
Jesus for His approval, it is easy to imagine the substance of His
answer: "I don't know what all this stuff means. I do not understand
your terms—pre-destination, fore-ordination, trans-substantiation,
infant damnation, etc. There is nothing here that I ever preached. I
have given you a simple standard of righteousness, which every one can
understand and follow, viz., right living. Have you forgotten my saying,
that 'all the law and the prophets were contained in the two
commandments to 'Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,' and to 'love
thy neighbor as thyself' (Matt. XXII:37-40). These creeds of yours may
be true, or partly true, or wholly false. But the important fact for you
to remember is, that they are unnecessary to salvation—are
non-essentials. If this sort of logomachy pleases you as an intellectual
exercise, well and good, if it goes no further. But, beware that, in
following this ignis fatuus, you do not neglect the only one main
essential to God's favor—'to do justly and to love mercy, and to walk
humbly with thy God.'"
The Great War has brought about a wondrous upheaval in the society of
the world. Nearly every phase of mental and physical activity in man is
in a process of transformation. Government, religion, labor, pleasure,
business, finance, international relations—all are on a shifting basis,
seeking readjustment to new ideas and new conditions. To cling to
worn-out conceptions of life—to worn-out ideas and phrases is mere
folly. These new problems can only be met and settled with a "tabula
rasa." We must wipe out the old prejudices, the old accepted canons,
and above all the old hypocrisies and cant.
If Christianity is to be a living, efficient force in the coming
readjustment, it must cleanse itself of some of these old barnacles of
hypocrisy now clinging to it. Not that hypocrisy will be less prevalent
under the new regime than under the old. Human nature will remain
essentially the same, but it will demand new forms of hypocrisy. The
specious, shallow reasoning of the charlatan, the fulsome adulation and
extravagant promises of the demagogue, and other forms of humbuggery
will still attract their thousands. Patient merit will still suffer its
many spurns from the unworthy. But the followers of Jesus, if they will
throw overboard their useless ecclesiastical and theological lumber, and
return to the simple teachings and example of the Great Teacher, are
sure to win.
The first and most important matter is to get rid of the hypocrisy of
war. War is the most direful menace to the happiness and prosperity of
mankind and, notwithstanding the bitter lessons of the Great War, little
progress has been made towards averting it in the future.
And no permanent progress in that direction will be made until the
Christian peoples of the world reject, root and branch, such views of
national wars as are expressed by the late President Roosevelt in the
quotations from his works already given (see (a) War, supra). The
underlying principle of this war philosophy is the same as that of the
modern Germans, Treitschke, Nietzsche and Bernhardi, except that they
express themselves with more brutal frankness. It was preached long ago
by Machiavelli, Francis Bacon, Hobbes, Eichte, Hegel and others. It is
in substance that the State, although all its component units are
sincere followers of Jesus, should not be governed by any moral laws in
its dealings with other States. The State can do no wrong. It should
pursue its ends with utter, callous selfishness, and its only law is
that might makes right.
President Roosevelt has been quoted, because, in his views, he
unquestionably voiced the sentiments of the great majority of past and
present Americans. If this be true, should we not look for the beam in
our own eye, before we criticize Germany for starting the Great War? She
was simply applying the law that might makes right, except that she
underestimated the might of the enemies she was arraying against
herself. If she had been successful (as she probably would have been
except for the unexpected valor and self-sacrifice of the Belgians),
would she have been any worse sinner (barring some barbarous details of
her warfare) than the United States with its condonation and approval of
the Mexican and Spanish wars? Both of these were wars of aggression
against weaker nations, and the Mexican war, at least, is admitted on
all hands to have been morally unjustifiable, even by such stalwart
Americans as President Roosevelt. More than a hundred years ago, a
distinguished admiral of the United States Navy is reported to have
said: "Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may she
always be in the right; but our country, right or wrong." Now, this is a
high-sounding phrase and is a great refuge for Jingo politicians when
they have precipitated the country into an unrighteous war. But before
the bar of Jesus it is the veriest clap-trap. The sincere follower of
Jesus should insist that we be sure we are right in the first instance,
and, if it is discovered that we have been misled into a by-way of wrong
and injustice, that we get back at once to the straight and narrow way
of right and justice.
Our churches must denounce these Rooseveltian doctrines early and late,
as a perversion of Jesus' laws. They must insist that opposition to wars
becomes a service of the heart and not of the lip. They must mould us
into a nation of sincere "conscientious objectors," condemning all wars
as un-Christian, judging every aggressive war as prima facie
unjustifiable, and insisting that the advocates of any war prove the
justness of their cause beyond a reasonable doubt. Let our politicians
and leaders understand that if they plunge us into an unjust war, they
are to be punished, and not rewarded by the Presidency, as was Roosevelt
after the Spanish war, and Taylor after the Mexican war. How many of our
wars would have lacked advocates, if they had been obliged to plead
their cause under the principles of the Sermon on the Mount?
As long as the people of the United States are animated by, and their
conduct based on, the war philosophy of Roosevelt, it is hard to see how
any League of Nations could be anything but a farce—a mere "scrap of
paper." On the other hand, if all the Christian nations were sincere,
ardent "conscientious objectors," wars would be avoided without the need
of any League of Nations. If the Christian people of Germany had been
"conscientious objectors" in this sense, there would not have been a
Great War. But unfortunately they were of a different faith, and
according to German writers still cling to that faith, after all their
bitter experiences. (Germany since the Revolution. Yale Review, Jan.,
1921). Nor may we flatter ourselves that we are free from the same
views. For instance, there is apparently, at the present time (as there
was before the Spanish war) a Jingo junto of politicians and newspapers
who seize every opportunity to stir up prejudice and hostility against
Japan, although it has always acted towards us as a peace-loving,
neighborly nation. If it were as vulnerable to our attack as Mexico or
Spain, these Hotspurs might quite likely drag us into a war, but the
uncertainty of the contest in this case must give them pause.
Another field for church action is in working towards making Sunday like
the Sabbath of Jesus' time—a day of joyous relaxation and recreation,
but always remembering that deeds of mercy and the promotion of the
happiness of others, are to feature the day, as the offering acceptable
to God. One of the marked features of the time is the growing spirit of
unrest and discontent among the mass of the people. This spirit of
unrest manifests itself, in part, by an increasing appetite for
amusement. While this outlet for people's uneasiness may perhaps not be
of the highest, it is much preferable to others, to which their
discontent might turn. The churches should recognize this present need
of man, realize the truth of Jesus saying that the Sabbath was made for
man, oppose all new Sunday Blue Laws, and seek the repeal of those now
existing. Instead of putting the ban of the church on all Sunday
amusements, it should encourage such harmless recreations as it can well
sanction under the example of Jesus. There should be meetings in the
churches, as in the synagogue in Jesus' time, but as an incident, and
not the chief end, of the day.
In the matter of temperance vs. prohibition, a great Christian nation
has, for the first time in history, recently inaugurated the experiment
of a general prohibition law. What the results of this policy may be,
remains an uncertain question for the future to decide. Certain it is
that the Anglo-Saxon race has reached its present stage of progress and
civilization under a regime of practically unrestricted use of alcoholic
drinks. Of the eminent names in its history—in government, war,
literature, arts, sciences, industrial work and invention—the
percentage of those who all their lives have been consistent abstainers
from liquor must be exceedingly small. The prohibitionist will say that
all this progress has been made in spite of the evils of drink. But that
can only be proved by generations of experience under prohibition laws.
The other hypothesis is, prima facie, equally tenable, that this
progress has been due in part to the stimulus which the temperate use of
liquor undoubtedly does, at least temporarily, give to the physical and
mental activity of man. The thirteen centuries of experience of the
followers of Mahomet demonstrate that prohibition does not of itself
produce great men, or general virtue, progress or prosperity.
Theoretically the success of prohibition is handicapped by the fact that
it is opposed to the evolutionary processes of nature. The basic idea of
prohibition is to improve man by removing the cause of evil. For no one
can deny that excess of drinking is an evil, just as is excess of
eating, of fasting, of prayer, or any other form of human activity. Even
excess of charity may be an evil, if it results in impoverishing one's
family. But nature works on the contrary idea. It develops its highest
types by exposing them to evil, and teaching them to conquer it. Take
the matter of climate, for instance. A priori one might have reasoned
that a mild, equable climate, like that of the South Sea Islands, where
the means of subsistence are easily obtained, would be the best for the
human race. It could plausibly be argued that man would have more time
and energy for his intellectual development if he were not absorbed in a
continuous, laborious struggle for his physical existence. But
experience has shown that just this contest with the extremes of heat
and cold—this continual battle for subsistence under uncongenial
conditions—has produced not only the most efficient workers in material
progress, but also the highest types of intellectual development.
Whether the prohibition theory of wrapping men in lamb's wool, instead
of putting them out to fight the battle of life, will not produce more
evil than good, is at least uncertain. It may be that, after some time
of experimenting, men may come back to the idea that Jesus was right in
thinking that temperance is better for the human race than prohibition.
Furthermore, prohibition, besides being opposed both to the laws of
Jesus and the laws of nature, has the essential weakness, as a remedy
for intemperance, that it attacks the means or rather one of the means,
of intemperance, and not the cause—the causa efficiens, as the
logicians would say. The Anglo-Saxons have for centuries been
meat-eaters and liquor-drinkers. What end they would have attained on a
diet of vegetables and cold water, we can only guess, but all science is
wrong if it would not have been some end quite different. Now, this
appetite for stimulants—the growth of centuries—is not to be
eradicated by prohibiting the use of alcoholic drinks, any more than the
appetite for fornication can be eradicated by the suppression of houses
of prostitution. In spite of all the prohibition laws in the world, the
appetite for stimulants will continue to exist in the Anglo-Saxon race,
and will seek its gratification in one way, if not in another. Whether
these substitutes may not be worse in the end than alcohol, remains to
be seen. Suppose, for instance, that accustomed liquor-drinkers should
now substitute, as their stimulant, large quantities of strong tea or
coffee, or, possibly, some concentrated product of one or the other of
those plants. Probably nine-tenths of our medical authorities would
agree that the change would be, generally speaking, undoubtedly for the
worse.
It is to be observed that never in the United States has there been
made any general systematic effort towards temperance, such as is now
being made towards prohibition. No greater hypocrisy has ever been
worked off on the American people than that under the name of
"Temperance." Societies have labeled themselves with that name, orators
and prominent leaders have paraded under that name, when, in fact, it
was a mere subterfuge, and the bearers of it were really
prohibitionists. Probably no one who has ever worked for real temperance
measures in any of our large cities but would testify that his work has
been seriously hampered by the entire lack of interest, if not by the
actual hostility, of these so-called temperance reformers and societies.
In fact, many of them would make no scruple in openly avowing that they
were opposed to any practical temperance measure, because it would
retard the coming prohibition. With the hearty support of the
prohibitionists, there is no reason today why scientific temperance
measures should not be put in force throughout the United States, that
would do away with at least seventy-five per cent of the evils of
drunkenness.
Our present Federal prohibition law is still on trial. It never would
have been enacted unless we had been precipitated into the Great War. It
has never been submitted to a plebiscite of the people. In one respect,
it has done much evil in increasing the unrest and discontent of a large
part of our population, who regard malt liquors as comparatively
innocuous, and as necessary to their comfort and health, and who regard
the deprivation of them as an invasion of their personal liberty. When
Rome was threatened, as we are now, by a rising tide of unrest and
discontent, the rulers of that day advised "panem et circenses"—food
and amusement. Many of the thinkers of today neglect this sage, old
maxim in depriving the people of their beer, in urging more stringent
Sunday Blue Laws, and, generally, in restricting or prohibiting popular
amusements, on one pretext or the other. In reading some of the proposed
restrictions on minors, one sometimes wonders how it is supposed that
stalwart, young lads from sixteen to twenty-one are to spend their
evenings. They most assuredly will not spend them at home reading the
Bible.
In the future consideration of temperance vs. prohibition, it will be
well for the followers of Jesus to weigh maturely His position on the
question. His precept and example are not lightly to be disregarded,
especially where, as here, they harmonize with the laws of nature,
instead of, as in the case of war, being opposed to them. If all
hypocrisy were eliminated, and the non-compromisers and sacro-sancts
kept out of the discussion, there is no reason why the opposing forces
of temperance and prohibition could not arrive at a compromise, which
would reduce the evil of drunkenness to a minimum, and, at the same
time, not rob life of the joy and good cheer that comes from a temperate
enjoyment of the "fruit of the vine." If it is to be a part of the
heavenly life (Matt. XXVI:29; Mark XIV:25; Luke XXII:30), let it be also
a part of the earthly life.
In the matters of prayer, fasting and ceremonial worship, the churches
must make radical changes in their practice, if they are to win back
their influence over the masses of the people—an influence which, it is
generally admitted, has been on the wane during the past few decades.
The contrast is altogether too glaring between the simple form of
worship, practiced and preached by Jesus, and that of most of our modern
religious denominations. The luxury of modern living is a favorite
subject of invective by essayists and philosophical writers. But it is
little wonder that the layman runs to this extreme, when he has before
him the example set by many of the successors of Jesus' apostles—popes,
bishops, cardinals, ministers of wealthy parishes, etc. And, in saying
this, the fact is not overlooked that many ministers of the Gospel are
worthy, self-denying, conscientious followers of Jesus in these matters,
but the exceptions are too numerous. The conduct of a class is usually
judged by that of its most prominent representatives.
As to creeds, theological disputes and sectarian differences, the common
people are more and more acting on the lines of Pope's couplet:
"For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight;
His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right.
In faith and hope the world will disagree;
But all mankind's concern is charity."
After the death of Mr. Atwater it developed that he had instructed
the Trust Company having his affairs in charge to make money gifts
to about one hundred of his friends.
A few of those so remembered have published the accompanying book
for distribution among Mr. Atwater's intimate acquaintances. The
text is that of a pamphlet which he published just before his
death.
Inside this leaflet are reproduced copies of a letter to the Trust
Company regarding the gifts and a memorandum, found in his desk, as
to the disposition of his remains.
Minneapolis, Minn.
Sept. 1/15
Minneapolis Trust Company,
115 South Fifth Street,
City.
Dear Sirs:—
In distributing the property which will come to you under my will, I
wish you to exercise a reasonable discretion, since conditions may be
quite different at the time of my death from what they are now. I very
likely have overlooked some of my old friends who should be remembered,
and in such case I should wish you to make the matter right as though
they were included in my list.
In case I should die after sickness of some duration, the people who
have taken care of me in this sickness should be also remembered.
In case there should be any deficiency of property to fill these
bequests, I should prefer that the deficiency should be taken out of the
larger amounts to friends who do not really need the money, rather then
to reduce all of the bequests pro rata. Under present conditions there
should be a surplus of several thousand dollars. This you might hold for
some time and if any of my friends came to actual want, you could use it
for their benefit or, if not used for that purpose, you could give it to
some hospital or asylum.
If you deem it advisable, you may make explanation that the varying
amounts of these legacies are not to be taken as indicating the degree
of my regard for recipients, since I have considered to a considerable
extent the financial condition of my friends. To some of them any amount
of money I could leave would be of no account pecuniarily, while in case
of others it might be of some real help; I have also given my girl
friends largely the advantage in amounts.
I will keep a duplicate of this list, which will be among my papers, and
may make changes in it from time to time, which will be of the same
effect as though communicated to you.
Yours very truly,
John B. Atwater.
