Main questions in religion; a study of fundamentals. Crane theological school lectures and other essays

Preface

NO lengthy preface is required for this volume. Its contents must speak for themselves. The four lectures are printed exactly as they were delivered, at Tufts College, Massachusetts, in May, 1915. They aim to deal candidly, searchingly and constructively with some of the ultimate problems of human life.

The two "other essays" are added because the matters of which they treat are of pressing importance. The purification of Christianity through the elimination of its historic accretions of error is not more than half accomplished yet. The process must be carried much nearer completion before this exalted religion can achieve its rightful and powerful leadership of the modern world. In proportion as this cleansing, rectifying work goes on, Christianity will become more and more the effectual spiritual ally of the great democratic movement, which alone in these dark days appears to hold out the promise of preserving the priceless principle of liberty in the momentous developments impending among the nations. Together a purified Christianity and a spiritualized Democracy will establish the reign of love and freedom, alike in the individual heart and in all social relationships, and thus bring in the era of permanent peace and universal prosperity for which the weary race has waited too long.

Contents

Lectures

I. What is the Great Reality in Religion? . 11

II. What is the Validity op Faith? .... 88

II WHAT IS THE VALIDITY OF FAITH f

OUR study thus far has shown that religion in its vital, essence is instinctive, universal and very potent in the life of mankind ; that therefore we may rightly hold it to be as natural as love or reason or the moral apprehension; and that it thus becomes a living dynamic, as real and significant in the spiritual realm as is gravity or electricity in the material.

If these conclusions are thoroughly tenable, they carry a couple of corollaries which deserve a moment's attention.

1. The basis of all religious inquiry must be human nature. Formerly it was customary to begin a discussion of religious matters by considering the teachings of the Bible and the attributes of God. But of course this method of reasoning assumes the existence of God and the truthfulness, somehow, of the teachings of the Bible; whereas we no longer think it warrantable to take these important postulates for granted, but must first find support for them in the depths of human nature, the one field which yields us our most immediate and sure knowledge. Indeed it is our thought that man himself is the chief revelation of whatever spiritual significance the universe affords ; humanity is the principal interpreter of Deity ; out of the profound experiences of human life all sacred scriptures are born, however inspired by the over-brooding and indwelling Spirit. Hence the care and thoroughness with which we must ever prosecute the study of human nature, and the reverence with which we should listen to every message that comes from the inmost recesses of man's soul.

%. We must always distinguish between religion and its manifold products. Religion itself is simply the instinctive attitude of the soul which impels to worship, consists essentially of aspiration, apprehends or suggests the Divine, and, in its higher stages, yearns for communion with the living God; while its products are the various forms in which it expresses itself, — rites, ceremonies, postures, penances, prayers, pilgrimages, altars, shrines, temples and creeds. These differ in different countries, ages and degrees of culture; but the underlying spirit common to them all is ever the same.

This distinction will lead us to separate sharply between religion and theology, which is merely thoughts about religion. Religion is the spiritual life of the soul; while theology is the intellectual theory of that life, its philosophical explanation, the orderly account of its relation to God and of God's government of the world. Of course there is a certain close connection between the two, especially among intelligent people; for it is inevitable that a rational being should reflect somewhat upon his emotions, desires and struggles, and thus come to intellectual theories or conclusions regarding them. Yet it is possible for religion to subsist and to be very pure, strong and fruitful without any formal theology at all, — just as it is possible for a man to be morally upright without having thought out any particular theory of ethics; or to love his wife and children deeply and tenderly without ever dreaming of any such scientific account of the evolution of human affection as Henry Drummond gives in his "Ascent of Man." The fact is that throughout the most of Christian history, especially since the days of Medieval Scholasticism, and still more especially — in Protestant circles — since the rise of Calvinism and the reactions against it, the theological note has been so strong as to dominate the more vital, spiritual interests of religion ; whence it has come to pass that multitudes have identified religion with theology, — a true, pure, reverent, aspiring spirit in the heart with a supposedly correct intellectual conception or philosophy of the Divine nature and procedure; whence, unfortunately, it has still further transpired that, when a given theological system — like Calvinism — has broken down, people have inferred that religion was ruined. All such mistakes may be avoided by remembering that religion in its primary essence is an instinctive hunger for God, while theology is merely an intellectual theory about God. Hence it follows that real, spiritual religion may be nourished in the souls of the people even though all our established intellectual formularies go to pieces.

Now we come to inquire as to the nature, function and scope of faith, a term which has always occupied a large place in Christian phraseology. Just what is faith, and what has it to do with religion, and how may the noblest faith be gained? A sound answer to these questions will go a long way toward simplifying some of our most perplexing religious problems.

The word faith is synonymous with the word belief, the one coming to us from the Latin and the other from the Anglo-Saxon. Each denotes primarily the assent of the mind to a proposition, statement or thought which it has not absolutely demonstrated. Such assent may be the conclusion of definite processes of reasoning, every step of which may be traced; or it may be partly this and partly also the result of feelings, tendencies and vague intimations that are not entirely susceptible of being logically formulated. In any case one's faith or belief must rest upon some evidence and involve judgment; else it is mere credulity, which is the foundation of superstition and fanaticism: and the higher the order of mind that entertains it — or perhaps it were better to say the more logical that order — the more nearly perfect will be its action in accordance with the evidence. A trained, experienced and honorable jurist becomes almost a machine for weighing evidence and turning out decisions in harmony therewith; but the vast majority of people are so little disciplined in this respect that their beliefs are largely a jumble of a few reasons and many prejudices, involving all sorts of piques, crotchets and guesses ; indeed it may be said that popular beliefs generally — touching the weather, the war, politics, religion, what not — consist mainly of mere floating ideas or sayings, current at the time, absorbed from surroundings, or inherited from the past, near or remote.

It is clear, then, that faith or belief may be of every conceivable degree of strength or weakness. You believe the sun will rise to-morrow morning — or will appear to do so — and nothing could shake your confidence ; you would risk your life upon it without hesitation. But you may believe that we are going to have a fruitful summer or a severe winter; yet how much would you risk upon that proposition? You believe that your partner in business, whom you have known intimately for many years, is strictly reliable, and nothing short of overwhelming proof would change your mind; but the plausible stranger who comes to solicit your investment in a gold mine cannot command any such confidence. The fact is, we use the word faith or the word belief to cover every shade of conviction of which the mind may be conscious, from the feeblest to the strongest; and each particular form or instance of faith or belief must stand upon its own basis, whether the reasons for it can be fully stated or not. We may believe with the utmost assurance that Jesus Christ lived in Palestine, nineteen hundred years ago, and was an exalted Teacher of spiritual truth, because the evidence is sufficient to produce such a conviction in our minds. But we may seriously doubt whether he actually walked upon the sea, or turned water into wine, or raised the dead, simply because the evidence for these alleged occurrences is not adequate, in the face of the established order of Nature, to completely convince us of them. Each case, each item or article in a man's faith, must rest upon its own evidential ground, must stand or fall by itself mainly.

But religious faith, in which we are especially interested, is, when genuine and powerful, something more than a surface opinion. It reaches into the depths of a man's soul, or it springs out of his deepest experiences, and it subsists not only by virtue of reasons but also by virtue of emotions or insights or apprehensions which cannot be set forth in logical array. In other words, life is more than logic, more than intellect; and faith, religious faith peculiarly, is an expression of life, an attitude of one's whole being.

Just as the psychologists are teaching us that a large part of our mentality lies below or beyond the comparatively narrow field of our immediate and clear consciousness, and that a great deal of our real life goes on in this so-called subliminal or subconscious or extra-conscious realm — the realm which still holds our half-forgotten knowledge, and keeps faithful record of many of our wholly forgotten deeds ; — so it may be said that the forces which contribute to a man's profound spiritual faith lie out of sight, under ground, like the roots of a flowering and fruitful plant; and he may never be able to explain his faith entirely by giving precise answers to categorical questions. If a good man were asked why he believes in his good wife, in her purity, honesty, unselfishness and love, he would not be able to tell why with absolute exactness and completeness : he believes in her because he knows her and loves her, indeed, but also because of a subtle union subsisting between them which is as indefinable or inexplicable as it is indissoluble — it is a thing of life and not of theory. So, too, a man's religious faith, when vital and potent, is derived from sources other and deeper than the processes of measuring and weighing evidence, however largely these must figure in its formulation; it is a thing of life and not of theory only. More will be said later regarding this truth.

Now the office of faith is to take the place of knowledge where knowledge is not possible, especially in the interest of action.

Strictly speaking, the term knowledge is of very limited import : it applies only to those things of which we are positively certain; and these are of two classes, — the things outside of us which we apprehend by sense-perception, and the things which transpire in the mind itself, of which we are conscious, namely : our thoughts, feelings, purposes, mental perceptions, convictions, aspirations, hopes. Of the former, the things without of which our senses tell us, how little we positively know! We see the moon, for instance : but what does the mere sight of that bright orb reveal to us that we can call sure knowledge? Only its brightness and roundness and changing phases. We walk through the fields and see the flowers, or through the woods and note a variety of trees, or through the mountains and valleys and observe different kinds of rock: but unless we are botanists or horticulturists or geologists, how slight is the certain knowledge of those objects which we thus obtain! Even when we examine our states of consciousness, our thoughts, feelings, convictions, desires and purposes, we find them continually changing; and our knowledge of ourselves arising from within ourselves, and considered without relation to others, is exceedingly small.

It is obvious, then, that the term knowledge must be enlarged to include a vast amount of information that comes to each of us second hand, and in fact we constantly employ it in this way. When we speak of modern knowledge in general, or of any particular branch of it, like one of the sciences, we allude to an enormous body of fact and truth which the learning of the ages, especially of recent times, has built up. Only the merest fragment of this is actually possessed by any single mind; and with most people half the things that are learned in youth are forgotten by middle life. But what we mean is that this great and precious body of knowledge has been wrought out, shaped and tested ; that it exists in books and libraries and museums ; that it is available to those who are qualified to appropriate it; and that in this sense it is common property, the most valuable property of the world, some of whose main features are more or less familiar to hosts of intelligent people. Yet no one knows so well as the profound scholar that even the most complete science of our time is to a considerable extent hypothetical; that its conclusions are subject to revision and re-revision; and that our age, with all its accumulated riches of learning, has only entered the vestibule of the wonderful temple of possible knowledge.

Now into all this enlarged conception of knowledge the element of faith or belief enters to a great extent. It comes to us mostly from others and we take it upon trust. All our information concerning those parts of the world which we have never seen, practically all our historical knowledge, and nine-tenths of all our science — astronomy, geology, chemistry, biology, medicine, and what not — we receive upon the testimony of our fellow men; and we believe it and rest in it and act upon it because we have confidence that they know what they are talking about. We have never seen the city of Babylon — indeed ancient Babylon vanished long ago ; and we have never read the original Code of Hammurabi — indeed we probably could not read it if we had it before us ; yet we go on teaching one another about the place of Babylon in history, and about the significance of that remarkable Code of Hammurabi. Why? Because we believe that the evidence concerning the city and the Code has been sufficient to produce convictions amounting to practical certainty in minds competent to judge of it. In other words, "we walk by faith, not by sight," in these historical matters. We take the testimony of others upon trust, and they of still others, and the whole process reduces itself to one of confidence in the competence of somebody to weigh evidence and establish either absolute proof or the highest degree of probability. The same thing is true of nearly all our science. The scholar in physics tells us about the ether that fills every nook and corner and cranny of the universe, even permeating the most solid bodies of matter; and we believe in its existence because we believe in him, or in some other scholar who has demonstrated the theory of its existence ; and yet this theory is only a working hypothesis, which the scientist adopts because it most completely solves the problems involved, and which therefore has for him so high a degree of probability as to amount to practical certainty. The history of science is the record of continual discovery, hypothetical explanation, verification or correction, restatement, and ever-enlarging horizons ; and at every step one mystery merely gives place to a greater mystery.

But if such is the character of our historical and scientific knowledge, much more is it the character of our practical judgments in the conduct of every-day affairs. We "know not what shall be on the morrow" : yet we marry and give in marriage, we journey abroad, we engage in business, we make investments, we plan for the future, we take risks of every sort, in sheer faith, i. e. y in our belief that we shall live and be in health, that safety and prosperity will attend us, that our fellow men can be depended upon, and that the good order of the world will hold together; but every one of these things is uncertain. We do not know and we cannot know what the immediate future has in store for us, and much less the remote future: yet we fare on bravely and cheerfully, trying to know as much as possible, forming judgments, weighing evidence, estimating probabilities, and "believing where we cannot prove"; and most of us achieve a reasonable degree of success, and find our faith on the whole justified by results. Not always, alas ! is it so justified. The passengers who embarked on the ill-fated Titanic undoubtedly did so in faith that they would have a safe voyage; but unfortunately it proved otherwise. Yet millions of travelers do cross the ocean safely, and plan their journeys without much fear in spite of all such terrible disasters ; indeed we all go about our daily work, and shape our lives, and meet the inevitable uncertainties, "in faith believing," notwithstanding accidents, failures, miscalculations and miscarriages. Only so can we live at all in such a world as this, in which we cannot know the future, but in which we must "walk by faith, not by sight." We dwell, each of us, as regards both intellectual and practical matters, within a small sphere of clear intelligence, lighted up by a little bit of positive knowledge, like a house illuminated at night; but outside is the darkness of a vast ignorance and uncertainty, a realm of mystery that seems to deepen as life expands. Into this darkness we are all striving to project the rays of our search-lights a little farther, each day, each year, each generation; but the things we believe must ever outnumber the things we absolutely know a hundred to one, while perhaps the things to be awaited must outnumber them both still more largely.

"O world, thou choosest not the better part! It is not wisdom to be only wise, And on the inward vision close the eyes,

But it is wisdom to believe the heart.

Columbus found a world, and had no chart,

Save one that faith deciphered in the skies;

To trust the soul's invincible surmise Was all his science and his only art. Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine

That lights the pathway but one step ahead,

Across a void of mystery and dread. Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine,

By which alone the mortal heart is led Unto the thinking of the thought divine."

George Santayana.

From all this it appears that faith, taking the place of knowledge where knowledge is not possible, is a rational attitude of mind. We are not unreasonable beings because we believe some things which cannot be proved, because we act upon convictions when exact demonstrations are out of the question. We are built for action, as an automobile is built for running; it is in action mainly that we develop our powers, and grow, and fill a place of usefulness in the world; and it is certain that the greater part of our activity in life, which naturally looks forward, is based upon opinions, convictions and judgments which are not susceptible of positive proof. The whole business world subsists in confidence between man and man, in faith in the stability and productiveness of Nature ; and governments are established, laws enacted, treaties made, and even wars conducted in the belief that certain ends are attainable and justifiable, and that certain measures will prove effective. In all this men are neither fools nor rascals nor bigots, but reasonable beings ; for well-grounded faith is not only a rational but a necessary principle in the management of the entire domain of practical, every-day life.

If, then, we ask what faith has to do with religion, the answer is plain: Faith is a working principle, which has reference mainly to action, and which is as valid in one realm as in another. If it is competent to determine an attitude or a course of conduct in matters of learning and business and all our ordinary social relationships, it is not to be ruled out of court when it comes to testify in behalf of spiritual interests. It is all a question of the nature of the evidence, and of sound reasoning, and of thorough thinking and testing, and of intellectual and moral integrity, and of candor and open-mindedness. The normal action of the human mind simply renders it inevitable that it should trust its own faculties, and trust the testimony of other minds, and trust the continuity of Nature's order; and whether it be in the sphere of moral and religious concerns or in that of material or so called "practical" affairs, it is perfectly reasonable in so doing. This faith becomes effective for conduct, taking the place of knowledge where positive knowledge is not possible, and so fulfills its great function. In the words of William James, "Faith means belief in something concerning which doubt is still theoretically possible; and as the test of belief is willingness to act, one may say that faith is the readiness to act in a cause, the prosperous issue of which is not certified to us in advance." 17

If these remarks are just, they fairly dispose of the notion, somewhat prevalent and sometimes cynically expressed, that religious faith consists of blind belief, whereas science consists of absolute knowledge. Real belief always rests upon reasons of some sort, and "blind belief" is no belief at all, but mere credulity. The so-called "ages of faith" were largely ages of credulity, superstition, and unquestioning docility; but the ages of true faith, supported by learning and reason, and 17 "Meaning of Truth," p. 256, quoted by Prof. R. B. Perry.

guided by intelligent, fearless investigation, are only even now broadly opening. We are not to throw the principle of faith overboard, but to understand its proper scope, and use it legitimately, whether in religious inquiry, or in scientific research, or in practical conduct.

We are now prepared to appreciate the power and helpfulness of real faith. It sustains men's flagging spirits, it nerves to effort, and how often it vindicates itself as a dynamic factor in human enterprise! The people who try to do things are the people who believe that things can be done. Recall Columbus and his discovery of America, — how he believed the earth to be round, and set out to sail around it, when nearly all Europe thought him a poor, deluded mortal: his achievement was as much an act of faith as any in history. Recall Cyrus W. Field and his success, after repeated failures and the loss of large wealth, in laying the Atlantic cable. Think of Lieutenant Peary and his final triumph in reaching the North Pole. Think of the founders of our Republic and of their belief in the principles for which they toiled and suffered. Think of Saint Paul and how his whole apostolic career was inspired by faith. Think of our modern Christian missionaries, from Adoniram Judson to the hosts that to-day are rearing the standard of the Cross in a thousand foreign places. Think of our technical engineers — civil, mechanical, mining, sanitary — who build marvelous bridges, bore tunnels through mountains and under rivers, dig canals like Suez and Panama, swing railroads over chasms or around dizzy heights, construct enormous reservoirs and redeem arid wastes, conquer plague and disease by cleansing the earth, and so help to make this old world into a new paradise. All these and myriads of others have been people of action because they have been people of both knowledge and faith ; they have based their faith upon their knowledge, and have thus believed that things could be done, and therefore have attempted and achieved. Always it has been action, action, action which knowledge and faith have served; and both knowledge and faith have found their sufficient recompense in endeavor and accomplishment. Intelligent faith inspires to effort, while doubt freezes the soul and paralyzes the arm. Men who do not believe do not achieve.

But it must be said that religious faith has a quality peculiarly its own and yields a blessing peculiarly rich. This is because religion is so largely an affair of the inner life. Its springs are within, even though its activities be outward. It consists primarily and mainly in an attitude of the soul, — in ideas, thoughts, desires, convictions, aspirations, hopes, purposes and endeavors that are considered profoundly vital and sacred. Thus it subsists among interests which are less tangible, perhaps, than those of science and business and engineering; at any rate they cannot be weighed and measured and appraised by the same standards; but they are not, therefore, any the less real or important — they are simply different. Being essentially spiritual, religion has regard mainly to spiritual influences ; it listens for the inner voice, it heeds the inner mandate, it seeks ever the inner satisfactions — "the peace of God which passeth all understanding." Its life is a holy life, whose experiences are not always reducible to rule and regulation and explanation ; and it has insights, intimations, promptings, restraints, joys, sorrows, guidances which come we know not how, — which come, we may believe, because the finite spirit, man, sustains living relations to the Infinite Spirit, God. "There is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth him understanding," said young Elihu in his answer to the three friends of Job. This "inspiration" is often the secret and chief source of the real faith that lives, quietly but potently, within a man's soul and shapes his outward conduct. Probably of no other kind of faith than religious faith can this be said. It is peculiarly inward and vital and sacred because such is the very nature of spiritual religion; and therefore it has ranges of apprehension which the intellectual processes of reasoning may not, alone, completely gauge. Saint Paul uttered a profound truth when he said, "The physical man receiveth not the things of the spirit of God; for they are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them; for they are spiritually discerned." As one who has not an ear for music may not know the delights of music, or as one who has no eye for beauty may not have the judgment and the joy of the artist; so one who has not an awakened or a cultivated spiritual sense may not know the meaning of the inner light, the inner voice, the inner peace, — "the peace of God which passeth all understanding."

But a man who has attained to some measure of such spiritual discernment derives a great blessing from his religious faith. He is "sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust" when there is no other power to give him courage to try to go on, or to bear up, or to accept what the day brings. He is prompted, restrained and led by his inner faith-sense when there is no other guidance for him. The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews says : "By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went." 18 How often do men go and come, hither and thither, on this enterprise or that, without being able to tell precisely why except that they have a secret, inner, indefinable belief that they ought, or ought not, to do so and so! It is the faith-sense which belongs to the spiritually-sensitized soul; and it is sometimes the most unerring guidance which a mortal man can have through the mazes of life's bewildering situations. And there is inspiration in genuine faith, the inspiration of spiritual life and power, which heals the infirmities of the soul and, as we are learning anew in these days, may go far toward the healing of the body. For life is always the great builder, and real faith is a form or attitude of life, even the highest life that we know; and who can limit the extent to which its influence may filter down into the lower life? Then what courage is imparted to the minds and hearts of ordinary people when, in times of trial or danger, a strong man stands up amongst them and speaks words of confidence and wisdom! Was it not James A. Garfield, who, on the evening following the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, addressed from a balcony in New York City an excited multitude in the street, and began by saying: "Fellow-citizens, God reigns, and the Government at Washington still lives" ; when instantly a tide of comfort and hope and calmness poured itself into the souls of those sorrowing, anxious men and women? What is the orator without faith, whether he be statesman or preacher? What, indeed, is the essence of statesmanship or true preaching but the establishment of a sound and righteous 18 Heb. xi.8.