Every-day religion

Front matter

ct*

BY

JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE

Contents

Page

I. How to Make the Most of Life . . 3

II. The Family in Heaven and Earth . 17 HI. The Religion which Passes Away, and

I. How To Make The Most Of Life

EVEKY-DAY KELIGION.

HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF LIFE.

QOME persons make a great deal of life ; others v -' very little. To some it is intensely interesting ; to others, very vapid. Some are tired of life before they have begun to live. They seem, as has been said, to have been born fatigued. Nothing interests them. This is a species of affectation with some persons to whom it seems a mark of genius to be weary of life. They think it argues an enormous experience and that they have exhausted everything. Wherever it is an affectation it is a very shallow one. Noble and manly natures seldom fall into this pit of satiety. They are full of hope and energy. To them life has inexhaustible charms. It is ever more rich, full, and varied. Each day dawns with new expectations, and closes with fresh hopes for to-morrow. And it is these living men who keep the rest of us alive. Whenever we meet them more sunshine comes into the day. Let us only share their enthusiasm, and we too cannot help making a great deal of life.

How full and rich was the character of the Apostle Paul ! How much he made out of his years ! He stands, like the Kilometer in Egypt, to tell how high the river of Thought, Love, and Will may rise. He changed Christianity, before only a Jewish sect, into a universal religion, a faith for mankind. Though he had never seen Jesus on earth, and never heard his teaching, he understood the Master better than those who had been with him. Paul could not write a gospel, but he comprehended the Gospels more truly than those who wrote them. He labored more abundantly than they all. He passed through more trials than any of the other apostles. He planted more churches, took more journeys, wrote more letters ; his life was outwardly full of work. But besides this, it was a life of thought, of deep reflection. His discussions about spiritual and moral truths, as recorded in the Epistle to the Eomans, take us down to the roots of things. He grappled with the primary problems of thought. He soared upward, like a flame, to the highest heaven of devotion, to the presence of God, where angels and archangels veil their faces. But this did not content him; perpetual progress was his life. " One thing I do : forgetting what is behind, and reaching out to that which is before, I press toward the mark." If we ask how it was that Paul made so much of his life, — omitting the questionable point of his inspiration, — I think we may sayit was the enthusiasm of his love, which took him out of himself in devotion to his great Master.

This, then, is the first rule for making the most of life : Forget yourself in some interest outside of yourself. He who is turned inward, thinking of himself, admiring himself, complaining that he is ill-treated ; he who thinks he ought to have more of the rewards of life, — he is the one who does not begin to live. Life is born out of communion, — communion with God, Nature, man. "We only live," says the profound thinker, the philosopher Fichte, — " we only live when we love ! " How true that is ! We must be interested in something in order to be alive, and no one can take a great deal of interest in himself. Looking in the glass is an unprofitable occupation. Socrates, indeed, taught, "Know thyself;" but the self-knowledge which he advised did not consist in minute self-inspection, but in testing thought and work by that which other men think and do. Socrates did not occupy himself with self-study, but went about the streets of Athens taking an interest in all that was thought, said, and done. He was interested in others, — in the condition of the State, the progress of truth, the diet of the soul, the stimulus of goodness, the restraints on evil. How men could be made better and wiser, — that was what engaged his whole thought, and this made his life one which has been the inspiration of mankind.

But, you may say, we cannot all be inspired apostles or great philosophers. No ; but the motive, the principle which made their lives rich, we can have in ours. This principle is, to be interested in something good; to have an object, an aim, a purpose outside of ourselves.

In the great storms which have lately swept over the north Atlantic, a steamer from our shores discovered another, dismasted and rudderless, drifting before the gale, its decks swept by terrible seas. The sailors volunteered to man a boat, and go to save those on the wreck. The labor was appalling, the dangers frightful ; but they succeeded, and saved the lives of their fellow-men. Which has made the noblest use of life, the self-indulgent epicurean, who amuses himself with a little art, a little literature, a little criticism and a little vapid social pleasure, or these rugged, brave hearts, who bade defiance to storm and sea, and brought salvation to those in despair ? To forget yourself is the secret of life ; to forget yourself in some worthy purpose outside of yourself.

The poor steamer foundered because it drifted ; because its steering apparatus was lost. The man who has no aim higher than himself also drifts ; he has nothing by which to steer, nothing toward which to direct his life. Do not drift, but steer ; that is the second rule.

Consider the life of a man like Agassiz, filled with an enthusiastic desire to know all the secrets of Nature. He, also, like Paul, never counted himself to have apprehended. He forgot what was behind, and reached out to that which was before. His life was full and rich, and he made the most of it. He worshipped God in the temple of creation. How happy he was in this immense love for Nature ! Nothing in her works was too minute to interest him, for everything was significant. At one end of the scale of human existence stands the blase man of the world, to whom nothing seems of much importance. At the other end is a man like Agassiz, to whom nothing is ^important. To him, everything which has been made has a meaning; thus he lives in a world in which he sees nothing insignificant.

These men, however, it may be said, were enthusiasts ; they had enthusiasm for some pursuit, to which they devoted themselves. But most of us are of a more plain, common-sense, practical nature. They are no models for us. They are inimitable.

Then let us look at a man of another type, who certainly was not an enthusiast, yet who made more of his life, did more, learned more, than any man of his generation. I mean Benjamin Franklin. He was clear-headed and sagacious ; but that is not the key to his remarkable career. I think the secret of his vast success was that he did everything as well as it could be done. He put his mind into his work. His motto might have been, "Whatever thy hand finds to do, do it with thy might." He prized the present moment, and gave his whole thought to it. Most of us do a great many things mechanically, satisfied if we do as well as others, no worse than the majority, so as not to risk much loss or incur much blame. The power of Franklin lay in this ; that whatever his hand found to do, he did it with his might. He did not wait till to-morrow to do something, but did what his hand found to-day. It is surprising how little he had of what is called ambition. It seemed to make very little difference to him what he did, or where he was. He drifted to Philadelphia, but when there he did not drift, but steered. He took the first decent work which he could find, and did it with his might. The Governor of the Province proposed to him to go to London, promising to help him to buy a printing-press, that he might do the public printing. After Franklin had gone the Governor forgot his promise. But it made little difference to Franklin. Beino- in London, he went to work as a printer, and there he remained till some occasion sent him back again to this country. Prudent, economical, industrious, watchful, he could not help growing rich. But he does not seem to have cared much about that. What he wished was to find all the secrets of the work he was doing, finish it in the best way, and to teach others how to do things well. In his shop in

Philadelphia, in a printing-office in London, ambassador at the court of Louis XVI., conversing with British statesmen and philosophers, he was the same, — a wide-awake person, with his mind keenly fixed on the thing nearest him. He did not w T orry about possible future evils, nor torment himself about an irrevocable past. He put his whole soul into the present moment, the work just at hand. He gave as earnest thought to the methods of his society of young men in Philadelphia for study and discussion, as to a treaty with France or the formation of the American Constitution. Each thin Qf as it came, took his whole mind, heart, and strength. That was why he did so much. He lived, as has been said, in the whole. Most of us are very apt to live in the half. We put part of our mind into our present work ; with the rest of our mind we are worrying about the past or the future, or imagining what other better things we might be doing. So we work in a half-and-half way. Do with your might what your hand finds to do; that is our third rule.

A habit of mind which interferes with this concentration of faculty on the present is that of laying too much stress on public opinion, and of troubling ourselves in regard to what others will think about us. One of the good things that Garfield said was this: "I do not much care what others think or say about me, but there is one man's opinion about me which I very much value ; that is the opinion of

James Garfield. Others I need not think about. I can get away from them ; but I have to be with him all the time. He is with me when I rise up and when I lie down, when I eat and talk, when I go out and when I come in. It makes a great difference whether he thinks well of me or not."

Garfield also had the power of doing with his might whatever his hand found to do. He began life a poor boy, wholly dependent on his own efforts. He went to Hiram College when quite young, hardly able to support himself there, but full of courage, hope, determination to learn all he could, and to use all his opportunities. He had the good fortune to meet in that place with one of those women who help young men to choose the right way in life ; to look up instead of down; to have faith in Providence and in themselves ; to aim at what is great and noble, not to condescend to the current of trivial opinion, or be drawn away by it. Having the happiness to know such a woman (her name was Almeda Booth), he had the good sense to appreciate her worth, and to be led by her advice and example. This saved him from bad influence, from commonplace dissipation, from wasting his time, and kept permanently before his soul the ideal of making of himself all he could. His three ruling thoughts were patience, labor, faith. When he began to teach school, he made in his mind an imaginary map of the school, with each boy in his place. Then he thought about each boy separately, and asked,

" What can I do for Johnny Smith ? What sort of a boy is he ? What does he need most ? " He taught school with his might. He said, " Unless one believes in something far higher than himself he will fail." On the one hand he determined not to be an office-seeker or a place-hunter, and to believe that if he ought to have anything, God would send it. But this did not lead him to trust to chance, for he also said, "Things do not turn up in this world. Some one must turn them up." " Observe all things," he said ; " question all men." He had the good sense to know when he found a master from whom he could learn anything good. Such a master he found in President Hopkins. " Give me a log-hut," he said, " with one bench in it. Let Mark Hopkins be at one end and I at the other, and I would rather have that for my college than all your buildings, libraries, and professors without him." When he went to Congress, when he was in the war, when he taught school, it was always the same. He put his whole soul into whatever he did. Whatever his hand found to do, he did with all his might.

The secret of Garfield was very much the same as that of Abraham Lincoln. I once had a long day's talk about Abraham Lincoln with a friend in Kentucky, who had lived in intimate relation with Lincoln when the latter was a young lawyer in Springfield, just beginning business. He said that Lincoln gave to every case he took his whole interest

12 E VERY-DAY RE LI GI OX.

and attention. Once he had to argue a case in which all depended on finding the right boundary for a piece of land on the prairie. There are no stones there for boundaries, and few trees, so the surveyors were in the habit of indicating the corners of the lots by shovelling up a little heap of earth. But it happens that a prairie squirrel, or gopher, does the same thing. Hence it becomes important to distinguish between the mounds made by the surveyor and those made by the gopher. Lincoln sent to New York for books which would tell him of the habits of the gopher, brought them into court, showed the judge and jury how the gopher built his mound, how it differed from that of the surveyor, and after he had won his case, sat up late in the night still studying about the gopher, so as to be sure to know all about him. He, also, did with his might what he had to do. Such men are nob

" Longing, not forever sighing For the far-off, the unattained. the dim."

They take what their hand finds, as sent to them by God, — the duty of the hour, the simple pleasures, innocent and pure, of common things which round us lie. Mr. Emerson said in his first book: "Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous. The dawn is my Assyria ; the sunset and moonrise my Paphos and fairy-realm ; broad noon my England of the senses and understanding ; the night shall be my Germany of poetic philosophy and dreams."

Ealph Waldo Emerson is another striking instance in our times of a man who made the most of life. He proved the truth of his own saying, " Let the single man plant himself on his instincts, and the huge world will come round to him." He had two leading ideas, by which he lived, and which he taught to his age. One of them was " Self-reliance," the other " God-reliance." Trust in your own deep and permanent convictions, though the whole world insist that you are wrong. " Call a pop-gun a pop-gun, though the ancient and honorable declare it to be the crack of doom." He believed in that which was highest, and did that which was nearest, following the suggestive lines of Wordsworth : —

" The primal duties shine aloft like stars ; The charities which soothe and bless and save, Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers."

Pursuing his own way quietly, trusting in the intuitions of his soul, saying his own words, not those of any one else, accepting the present moment with its immediate inspiration, and believing in an overhanging heaven and an infinite spiritual presence, Emerson did with hi3 might what his hand found to do, and saw the great world come round to him. Trust in God and your own soul, is the fourth rule.

I have described conspicuous persons, because in such lives principles of action are made most evident. But it must not be supposed that they have any monopoly of this " Art of life." If you will only consider, you will remember many a person of whom the world never heard and will never hear, whose years have been as full of generosity, loyalty to duty, faith in God, fidelity to every day's work, as those of Franklin or Garfield, Lincoln or Emerson. They, also, have put their hands to the plough and have not looked back. Having made up their minds to what ought to be done, they did not hesitate, did not procrastinate, did not worry or grow anxious, but faithfully performed the duty of the hour. They had faith in Providence, and so did with their might what their hands found to do. They gave, and it was given to them again, " full measure, pressed down and running over." They did good, hoping for nothing again, and the reward came in lives full of content ; in cheerfulness, peace, and satisfaction.

II. The Family In Heaven And Earth

II.

THE FAMILY IN HEAVEN AND EARTH.

THE doctrine of Correspondences, as taught by Swedenborg, contains much truth. This, at least, is true, that there is not only a resemblance between material and spiritual things, but that the one is the natural sign of the other. The facts of outward nature signify other facts of the soul. Thus, in all languages, light stands for knowledge. We speak of brilliant ideas, an illuminated intellect, the shining forth of truth. So heat, in all time, has signified affection, or feeling. We say warm affections, hot desires, burning love, fiery passions, and the like. In the same way physical forces in the outward world correspond to will, purpose, determination of spirit. We say an iron will, a strong purpose, a powerful determination. The three dimensions of space — height, depth, and width — are types of aspiration, of reflection, and of experience. We say deep thoughts, lofty purposes, a broad experience. This is what is meant by types. The physical world is full of types of the mental world. We use these symbolic expressions many times a day, and we never confound them together. We do not say hot ideas, but hot passions ; we do not compare a man's thoughts to a rock, but his firmness of purpose we say is like a rock. Thus the visible heaven and earth around us are types of the invisible world within us. I do not see the value of all of Swedenborg's correspondences. When he says that a cloud means divine truth in the ultimates, or that a horse means meditation on the word, I am not able to understand him. " But I can easily believe that the whole outward universe is the expression of God's thoughts, and can say with Milton, —

" What if earth Be but the shadow of heaven, and things therein Each to the other like, more than below is thought ? "

One of these analogues is the human body as a type of that social body which we call the State. The human body is composed of little cells ; and so society is composed of families. The family is to the State what the cell is to the body. And then as each type may suggest again another and higher resemblance, the human family becomes the type of the religious communion of souls.

" The whole family in heaven and earth." When the Apostle Paul said that, he had a wonderful vision of the future. That all this earth should be one, human nature one, mankind one family, — that was a new idea, and a vast one.

Christianity came to make mankind one. At the very first we notice this approaching unity. " The multitude of those who believed were of one heart and one soul ; neither said they that anything they possessed was their own, but they had all things common." There were men of many races, " Parthians, Medes, Elamites, dwellers in Mesopotamia, in Pontus and Phrygia, Greeks, and Eomans." But the power of divine and human love had made of them a family. The partition walls of race, nation, color, fell down, and they became in spirit one.

But Paul's wonderful vision did not stop there. It was not only a family on earth, created by Christ, but also a family in heaven ; one and the same ; a vast family of the redeemed above and below.

But to have one family we must have many families. As the life of the tree consists of life in innumerable buds, as the life of the body is made up of innumerable living cells, so the family on earth is made up of innumerable families. The family in heaven, according to this law, must also be made up of innumerable families. Earthly life is the type of heavenly life. If we would know what the life is there, we must look at the best life here. A true, ideal family on earth is the type of heaven. Let us, then, ask what is the highest form of family life below. What is an ideal family ?

The ideal family is one in which there is the father and mother, the brothers and sisters, the aged grandfather and grandmother, the infant in its cradle, the kind aunts and uncles and cousins. So the family is formed, having a life of its own, — many members, but one body.

This family is full of love. All the members are mutually attached and dependent. Each cares for the other. They have their separate interests and work, but they bring together the results of what they think and do. They go out for their various occupations, but come back to repose and rest in a mutual interest and a mutual trust.

The family also is an ideal one when it is pervaded by ideas. If we enter a home where there are aspirations, hopes, generous thoughts, interest in great themes, care for others, then family life begins to be glorified, and to take on the character of a Christian church.

How happy is the child who grows up in a complete family ; who is surrounded by loving care from the beginning ; who has not only the father and mother always near, but sees around brothers and sisters and cousins ; uncles and aunts ; relatives, neighbors, friends ! He has already in his soul a type of the true church and the coming heaven.

But more is needed to make a true family. A home is needed. The family in heaven and earth needs a home.

What is a home ? It is a place made sacred by happy associations ; it is comfort, safety, a retreat from outside trouble ; it is the region where peace should always abide. Such a home every family needs.

Three things go to make a home. These three are, first, the roof; second, the table; third, the parlor.

There is the roof — that is, the home as shelter. The first thing which we see around us as children is this shelter. The foxes have holes, and the birds have nests, but man has more ; his home is shelter, security, peace, comfort. To a child the house he lives in, from garret to cellar, is interesting. The garret is the child's museum of curiosities, and the cellar is his unexplored region of wonders. At least it used to be so, though I am afraid that modern architectural improvements have banished the genuine old-fashioned garret and cellar bv letting order into the one and light into the other. But in my childhood the garret was a great storehouse of curiosities, dusty bundles of newspapers from the last century, the antiquated smokejaek which used to turn our meat, helmets and crimson sashes from the Eevolution, side-saddles and high-heeled shoes belonging to belles of past times. And the old-fashioned cellar, as I remember it, had its dark recesses and hidden chambers, into the inmost of which the boldest of us dared not venture. Homes in those days seemed solid, and meant to last. They were not bought and sold at every caprice, but were the abiding-place of many generations.

The roof is the shelter of the family. When the winter storm rages without ; when the sleet beats against the window, and the snow lies heavy around; within blazes the cheerful fire, and the family gathers around it in security and peace.

The soul also needs a roof, a shelter; and the Church, in its largest sense, is the shelter of the soul. Jesus gave this large definition of the Church when he said, "If two or three meet together in my name, I am in the midst of them." A thousand people meeting in the name of fashion, of established usage, of vanity, do not make a church. A creed and liturgy do not make a church. But where two really meet in the spirit of Christ, there is a church. There the soul finds shelter, comfort, peace, a home ; and Christ is present to protect and inspire, to uplift and cheer. This is divine overarching roof, the dome of the spiritual heaven.

Another element which unites the family in its home is the table. It is a distinction of civilized man to eat in company. Animals eat alone, when and where they can. Savages often eat alone. But the common table is the fruit of civilization. Twice or three times a day the members of the household collect and sit opposite to each other at a common meal. How much does not this add to the intimacy and union of a household ! To break bread together is a sacrament of friendship among all nations. In that family which we call a church is also this meeting together for food. The Church spreads its table on the Lord's Day, and offers food to the mind and heart in its prayers and hymns, its Scripture and its sermons. It spreads another table in its literature, its religious biographies, its journals, its sacred histories, its sacred poetry, its books of edification and instruction. It spreads a table for the young in its Sunday school. Its social meetings and conferences offer food in still another way, so that every mind and heart shall be satisfied. This table of the Church comprises a]l its means of edification. But here again let us distinguish between the technical church and the true church. If we go to church and hear dogmas, or literary essays, or philosophical discussions, or severe attacks on other churches, or assaults on unbelievers, what does it profit ? " The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed." But the church which feeds the soul is one in which we are helped to feel the presence and love of God in the world ; to know the grandeur of our human life, the nobleness of living for others, and the certain triumph of truth over error, right over wrong, good over evil. That is the food we need, — food for conscience, heart, and life, to make us strong for our work, to comfort us in our sorrow, to enable us to see heaven near while we walk on earth.

The Lord's Supper is the symbol of the food which Christ and Christianity supply to the human mind and heart. We eat a piece of bread and drink a little wine as an expression of our faith that

Christ's life and death feed our souls with strength and joy. All should thus unite who have this faith. It is not for church members only, but for all Christians. It is not for the good and holy, for pious persons only, any more than prayer and public worship is for them only. Just as in a family all the members come together, old and young, to the breakfast-table, even to the little child sitting in his hierh. chair, so to the table of the Lord all should come, even the youngest and humblest Christian who yet claims Jesus as his teacher, friend, and Saviour.

The third thing which characterizes every home is, that it is a sphere of activity and centre of communion, of which the parlor (or keeping-room, as it is called in the country) is the focus. From this the family go out, each to his work or pleasure ; to this they all return, and communicate what they have gained. Every home is the centre of a circle, and these circles overlap each other, so that one circle catches into another, and thus society is made up of many little family circles, which are linked in and in with each other. So in the old coats of mail each ring of steel was interlinked with two or three others. Every child and man living; in a home and family is thus introduced to surrounding homes and families, and brought into a communion of work, of study, of thought, of social sympathy and intercourse. And thus every church ought to be a circle interlinked with other surrounding churches, and so tending to make a Christian society, a church universal.