The question of the miraculous element in religious truth has indeed

reached an acute stage. The Catholic doctrine is and always has been

that there are two 'orders'--the natural and the supernatural--on the

same plane, and distinguishable from each other. The Catholic theologian

is prepared to define what occurrences in the lives of the Saints are

natural, and what supernatural. Miracles are of frequent occurrence, and

are established by ordinary evidence. Three miracles have to be placed

to the credit of each candidate for canonisation before he or she is

entitled to bear the title of saint, and the evidence for these miracles

is sifted by a commission. This theory has been practically abandoned in

the English Church. There are few among our ecclesiastics and

theologians who would spend five minutes in investigating any alleged

supernatural occurrence in our own time. It would be assumed that, if

true, it must be ascribed to some obscure natural cause. The result is

that the miracles in the Creeds, or in the New Testament, are isolated

as they have never been before. They seem to form an order by

themselves, a class of fact belonging neither to the world of phenomena

as we know it, nor to the world of spirit as we know it. From this

situation has arisen the tendency, increasingly prevalent both in the

Roman Church and in Protestant Germany, to distinguish 'truths of faith'

from 'truths of fact,' The former, it is said, have a representative,

symbolic character, and are only degraded by being placed in the same

category as physical phenomena. This contention is open to very serious

objections, but it at least indicates the actual state of the problem,

viz. that to most educated men the miraculous element in Christianity

seems to float between earth and heaven, no longer essentially connected

with either, while on the other hand the majority of religious people,

including a few men of high intelligence, find it difficult to realise

their faith without the help of the miraculous. Supernaturalism, which

from the scientific point of view is the most unsatisfactory of all

theories, traversing as it does the first article in the creed of

science--the uniformity of nature--gives, after all, a kind of crude

synthesis of the natural and the spiritual, by which it is possible to

live; it is, for many persons, an indispensable bridge between the world

of phenomena and the world of spirit. But when the heavy-handed

dogmatist requires a categorical assent to the literal truth of the

miraculous, in exactly the same sense in which physical facts are true,

a tension between faith and reason cannot be avoided. And it is in this

literal sense that Bishop Gore requires all his clergy to assent to the

miracles in the Creeds.

The fact is that the Catholic party in the Church are in a hopeless

_impasse_ with regard to dogma. They cannot take any step which would

divide them from 'the whole Church,' and the whole Church no longer

exists except as an ideal--it has long ago been shivered into fragments.

The Roman Church is in a much better position. The Pope may at any time

'interpret' tradition in such a manner as to change it completely--there

is no appeal from his authoritative pronouncements; but for the High

Anglican there is no living authority, only the dead hand, and a Council

which can never meet. It is much as if no important legislation could be

passed in this country without a joint session of our Parliament and the

American Congress. It is difficult to see any way of escape, except by

accepting the principle of development in a sense which would repudiate

the time-honoured 'appeal to antiquity.'

We have next to consider Bishop Gore as a Church Reformer. We have seen

that he desires an autonomous Church, which can legislate for itself.

The dead hand, which weighs so lightly upon him when it forbids any

attempt to revise the formularies of the faith, seems to him intolerably

heavy when it obliges the Church to conform to 'the laws, canons, and

rubrics of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, which it cannot

alter or add to.'[43] The only remedy, he thinks, is a really

representative assembly, of bishops, presbyters, and laymen. In the

early Church, as he points out, the laity were always recognised as

constituent members of the government of the Church. In a democratic

age, the laity as a body should exercise the powers which in the Middle

Ages were delegated to, or usurped by, 'emperors, kings, chiefs and

lords.' The parish ought to have the real control of the Church

buildings, except the chancel; the Church servants ought to be appointed

and removed by the parish meeting. It would be a step forward if these

parish councils could be organised under diocesan regulation, and

invested with the control of the parish finances, except the vicar's

stipend; the right to object to the appointment of an unfit pastor; and

some power of determining the ceremonial at the Church services. The

diocesan synod should become a reality; there should also be provincial

synods, which could become national by fusion. But in the last resort

the declaration of the mind of the Church on matters of doctrine and

morals ought to belong to the bishops.[44]

But who are the laity? 'By a layman,' he says, 'I mean one who fulfils

the duties of Church membership--one who is baptised into the Church,

who has been confirmed if he has reached years of discretion, and who is

a communicant.' A roll of Church members, he suggests, should be kept in

each parish, on which should be entered the name of each confirmed

person, male or female. The names of those who had passed (say) two

years without communicating should be struck off the roll. Further,

names should be removable for any scandalous offences.[45]

It is easy to see that the 'communicant franchise' would work entirely

in favour of that party in the Church which attaches the greatest

importance to that Sacrament. It would exclude a large number of

Protestant laymen who subscribe to Church funds, and who on any other

franchise would have a share in its government. But we need not suspect

Dr. Gore of any _arrière pensée_ of this kind. His ideal of parochial

life is one which must appeal to all who wish well to the Church. We

will quote a few characteristic sentences:

'Are we to set to work to revive St. Paul's ideal of the

life of a Church? If so, what we need is not more

Christians, but better Christians. We want to make the moral

meaning of Church membership understood and its conditions

appreciated. We want to make men understand that it costs

something to be a Christian; that to be a Christian, that

is, a Churchman, is to be an intelligent participator in a

corporate life consecrated to God, and to concern oneself,

therefore, as a matter of course, in all that touches the

corporate life, its external as well as its spiritual

conditions.... We Christians are fellow-citizens together in

the commonwealth that is consecrated to God, a commonwealth

of mortal men with bodies as well as souls.'[46]

With regard to ritual, he will not allow that the disputes are

unimportant. The vital question of self-government is at stake. From

this point of view, a 'mere ceremony' may mean a great deal. St. Paul,

who said 'Circumcision is nothing,' also said, 'If ye be circumcised

Christ shall profit you nothing,'[47] This is quite consistent with his

hearty disapproval of the introduction of purely Roman ceremonial.

Does this ideal of a free Church in a free State involve

disestablishment? Not necessarily, Dr. Gore thinks. Why should not legal

authority be entrusted to diocesan courts, with a right of appeal to a

court of bishops, abolishing the jurisdiction of the Judicial Committee

in spiritual cases? It is the paralysis of spiritual authority, in his

opinion, which pushes into prominence all extravagances, and conceals

the vast amount of agreement which exists in essentials. 'We are weary

of debating societies; we want the healthy discipline of co-operative

government.'[48] The policy of this self-governing Church is to be

'Liberal-Catholic,' a type which 'responds to the moral needs of our

great race.'

Such is the scheme of Church reform towards which the Bishop is working;

and he has told us, in the sentence last quoted, what kind of Church he

looks forward to see. But what kind of Church would it actually be, if

his designs were carried out? It would not be a national Church; for

his belief that Catholicism 'responds to the moral needs of our race' is

contradicted by the whole history of modern England. The laity of

England may not be quite 'as Protestant as ever they were, though we

often hear that they are so; but they show no disposition to become

Catholics. Catholicism as we know it is Latin Christianity, and even in

the Latin countries it is now a hothouse plant, dependent on a special

education in Catholic schools and seminaries, with an _index librorum

prohibitorum_. Such a system is impossible in England. Seminaries for

the early training of future clergymen may indeed be established; but

beds of exotics cannot be raised by keeping the gardeners in greenhouses

while the young plants are in the open air. The 'Liberal Catholic'

Church, accordingly, would shed, by degrees, the very large number of

Churchmen who still call themselves Protestant. Nor would the adjective

'Liberal' secure the adhesion of the 'intellectuals.' Bishop Gore's

Liberalism would exclude most of them as effectually as the most rigid

Conservatism. It would also be a disestablished and disendowed Church;

for surely it is building castles in the air to think of episcopal

courts recognised by law. The prospect of disestablishment does not

alarm the Bishop. Some of his utterances suggest that he would almost

welcome it. Indeed, disestablishment is viewed with complacency by an

increasing number of High Church clergy. They feel that they can never

carry out their plans for de-Protestantising the Church while the Crown

has the appointment of the bishops. For even if, as has lately been the

case, their party gets more than its due share of preferment, there will

always, under the existing system, be a sufficient number of Liberal and

Evangelical bishops on the bench to make a consistent policy of

Catholicising impossible. And the Catholic party are so admirably

organised that they are confident in their power to carry their schemes

under any form of self-government, even though the mass of the laity are

untouched by their views. Moreover, the town clergy, among whom are to

be found advocates of disestablishment, find in many places that the

parochial idea has completely broken down. The unit is the congregation,

no longer the parish, and the clergy are supported by pew-rents and

voluntary offerings, not by endowments. In such parishes,

disestablishment might, they think, give them greater liberty, and would

make little difference to them in other ways. But in the country

districts the case is very different. Thirty years after

disestablishment, the quiet country rectory, nestling in its bower of

trees and shrubs, with all that it has meant for centuries in English

rural life, would in most villages be a thing of the past.

For these reasons, the Bishop's policy of reconstructing the Church of

England as a self-governing body, professing definitely Catholic

principles and enjoining Catholic practices, seems to us an impossible

one. The chief gainer by it would be the Church of Rome, which would

gather in the most consistent and energetic of the Anglo-Catholics, who

would be dissatisfied at the contrast between the pretensions of their

own Church and its isolated position. The non-episcopal bodies would

also gain numerous recruits from among the ruins of the Evangelical and

Liberal parties in the Church.

But, it may be said, this dismal forecast may be falsified if the

Anglican Church can win the masses. The English populace are at present

neither Protestant nor Catholic; they are, if we count heads, mainly

heathen. May not the working man, who has no leaning to dissent, unless

it be the 'corybantic Christianity' of the Salvation Army, be brought

into the Church?

Bishop Gore has always shown an earnest sympathy with the aspirations of

the working class to improve their material condition. He is also

profoundly impressed by the apparent discrepancy between the teachings

of Christ about wealth and the principles which His professed disciples

wholly follow and in part avow. These anxious questionings form the

subject of a fine sermon which he preached at the Church Congress of

1906, on the text about the camel and the needle's eye. Jesus Christ

chose to be born of poor and humble parents, in a land remote from the

centre of political or intellectual influence, and in the circle of

labouring men. He chose to belong to the class of the respectable

artisan, and most of the twelve Apostles came from the same social

level. In His teaching He plainly associated blessedness with the lot of

poverty, and extreme danger with the lot of wealth. All through the New

Testament the assumption is that God is on the side of the poor against

the rich. As Jowett once said, there is more in the New Testament

against being rich, and in favour of being poor, than we like to

recognise. And is not this the cause of our failure to win the masses?

Is it not because we are the Church of capital rather than of labour?

The Church ought to be a community in which religion works upward from

below. The Church of England expresses that point of view which is

precisely not that which Christ chose for His Church. The incomes of the

bishops range them with the wealthier classes; the clergy associate with

the gentry and not with the artisans. We must acknowledge with deep

penitence that we are on wrong lines. For himself, the Bishop admits

that he has 'a permanently troubled conscience' in the matter. Then,

with that admirable courage and practicality which is the secret of much

of his influence, he proceeds to indicate four 'lines of hopeful

recovery.' First, the Church must get rid of the administration of poor

relief. Where the charity of the Church is understood to mean the

patronage of the rich, it can do nothing without disaster. All will be

in vain till it has ceased to be a plausible taunt that a man or woman

goes to church for what can be got. Secondly, we must give the artisans

their true place in Church management, and must consult their tastes in

all non-essentials. Thirdly, the clergy should 'concentrate themselves

upon bringing out the social meaning of the sacraments,' and giving

voice to the spirit of Christian brotherhood. Lastly, we ought to free

the clerical profession entirely from any association of class.

The Bishop is not a Collectivist, but he has great sympathy with some of

the aims of Socialism. In a 'Pan-Anglican Paper' just issued, he

discusses the attitude of the Church towards Socialism. Christianity, he

says, must remain independent of State-Socialism, as of other

organisations of society. Socialism would make a far deeper demand on

character than most of its adherents realise. 'An experiment in

State-Socialism, based on the average level of human character as it

exists at present, would be doomed to disastrous failure.' (Bishop

Creighton said the same thing more epigrammatically. 'Socialism will

only be possible when we are all perfect, and then it will not be

needed.') But what we have is no Socialistic State, but a great body of

aspiration, based on a great demand for justice in human life. The

indictment of our present social organisation is indeed overwhelming,

and with this indictment Christianity ought to have the profoundest

sympathy, for it is substantially the indictment of the Old Testament

prophets. The prophets were on the side of the poor; and so was our

Lord. Where is the prophetic spirit in the Church to-day? We need 'a

tremendous act of penitence.' Our charities have been mere

ambulance-work; but 'the Christian Church was not created to be an

ambulance-corps.' We have followed the old school of political economy

instead of the prophets and Christ. Broadly, we may contrast two ideals

of society: individualism, which means in the long run the right of the

strong; and socialism, which means that the society is supreme over the

individual. 'On the whole, Christianity is with Socialism.'

This 'Pan-Anglican Paper' is a fair representation of the views which

are spreading rapidly among the High Church clergy. The party is in fact

making a determined effort to enlist the sympathies of the working man

with the Church, by offering him in return its sympathy and countenance

in his struggle against capitalism. This is a phase of the movement

which it is very difficult to judge fairly. Dr. Gore's sermon was

calculated to give any Christian who heard it, whether Conservative or

Liberal, 'a troubled conscience;' and his practical suggestions are as

convincing as any suggestions that are not platitudes are likely to be.

But in weaker hands this sympathy with the cause of Labour is in great

danger of becoming one of the most insidious temptations that can attack

a religious body. The Church of England has been freely accused of too

great complaisance to the powers that be, when those powers were

oligarchic. Some of the clergy are now trying to repeat, rather than

redress, this error, by an obsequious attitude to King Working-man. But

the Church ought to be equally proof against the _vultus instantis

tyranni_ and the _civium ardor prava iubentium_. The position of a

Church which should sell itself to the Labour party would be truly

ignominious. It would be used so long as the politicians of the party

needed moral support and eloquent advocacy, and spurned as soon as its

services were no longer necessary. The taunt of Helen to Aphrodite in

the third book of the 'Iliad' sounds very apposite when we read the

speeches of some clerical 'Christian Socialists,' who find it more

exciting to organise processions of the unemployed than to attend to

their professional duties.

hêso par' ahython hiohysa, thehôn d' haphoeike kelehythoy,

mêd' heti sohisi phodessin hypostrhepseiast 'Holympon,

hall' ahiehi perhi kehinon hohizye kahi he phylasse,

ehist ho khe s' hê halochon poihêsetai, hê ho ge dohylên.[49]

It is as a slave, not as an honoured help-mate, that the Social

Democrats would treat any Christian body that helped them to overthrow

our present civilisation. And rightly; for Christ's only injunction in

the sphere of economics was, 'Take heed and beware of all covetousness,'

He refused pointedly to have anything to do with disputes about the

distribution of property; and in the parable of the Prodigal Son the

demand, 'Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me,' is the

prelude to a journey in that 'far country' which is forgetfulness of God

(_terra longinqua est oblivio Dei_). Christ unquestionably meant His

followers to think but little of the accessories of life. He believed

that if men could be induced to adopt the true standard of values,

economic relations would adjust themselves. He promised His disciples

that they should not want the necessaries of subsistence, and for the

rest, He held that the freedom from anxiety, covetousness, and envy,

which He enjoined as a duty, would also make their life happy. This is

a very different spirit from that which makes Socialism a force in

politics.

Bishop Gore, we may be sure, will not willingly allow the High Church

party to be entangled in corrupt alliances. When he handles what may be

called applied Christianity, he does so in a manner which makes us

rejoice at the popularity of his books. The little commentaries on the

Sermon on the Mount, and on the Epistles to the Romans and Ephesians,

are admirable. They are simple, practical, and profound. We subjoin a

short analysis of the notes on the first part of the Sermon on the

Mount, as an illustration of the teaching which runs all through the

three commentaries.

The Sermon on the Mount is not the whole of Christianity. It

is the climax of law, of the letter that killeth. The Divine

requirement is pressed home with unequalled force upon the

conscience; yet not in the form of mere laws of conduct, but

as a type of character. It is promulgated not by an

inaccessible God, but by the Divine Love manifested in

manhood. The hard demand of the letter is closely connected

with the promise of the Spirit. We are told that many of the

precepts in the sermon were anticipated by Pagan and Jewish

writers. But this we might have expected, since all men are

rational and moral through fellowship with the Word, who is

also the Reason of God. Christ is the light which in

conscience and reason lightens every man throughout the

history of the race. But the Sermon is comprehensive where

other summaries are fragmentary, it is pure where they are

mixed. It is teaching for grown men, who require principles,

not rules. And it is authoritative, reinforced by the

mysterious Person of the speaker. The Beatitudes are a

description of character. Christ requires us, not to do such

and such things, but to be such and such people. ... True

blessedness consists in membership of the kingdom of heaven,

which is a life of perfect relationship with man and nature

based on perfect fellowship with God.... The Beatitudes

describe the Christian character in detail; in particular,

they describe it as contrasted with the character of the

world, which, in the religious sense, may be defined as

human society as it organises itself apart from God. The

first Beatitude enjoins detachment, such as His who emptied

Himself, as having nothing and yet possessing all things. We

are all to be detached; there are some whom our Lord

counsels to be literally poor. 'Blessed are they that

mourn' means that we are not to screen ourselves from the

common lot of pain. We must distinguish 'godly sorrow' from

the peevish discontent and slothfulness which St. Paul calls

the sorrow of the world, and which in medieval casuistry is

named acedia. 'Blessed are the meek' means that we are not

to assert ourselves unless it is our duty to do so. The true

Christian is a man who in his private capacity cannot be

provoked. On a general view of life, though not always in

particular cases, we must allow that we are not treated

worse than we deserve. The fourth Beatitude tells us that if

we want righteousness seriously, we can have it. The fifth

proclaims the reward of mercy, that is, compassion in

action. Pity which does nothing is only hypocrisy or

emotional self-indulgence. On the whole, we can determine

men's attitude to us by our attitude to them; the merciful

do obtain mercy. 'Purity of heart' means singleness of

purpose; but in the narrower sense of purity it is worth

while to say that those who profess to find it 'impossible'

to lead a pure life might overcome their fault if they would

try to be Christlike altogether, instead of struggling with

that one fault separately. 'Sincerum est nisi vas,

quodcunque infundis acescit.' On the seventh--there are many

kinds of false peace, which Christ came to break up; but

fierce, relentless competition is an offence in a Christian

nation. The last shows what our reward is likely to be in

this world, if we follow these counsels. Where the

Christ-character is not welcomed, it is hated.

From the later sections a few characteristic comments may be given in an

abridged form.

We are apt to have rather free and easy notions of the

Divine fatherhood. To call God our Father, we must ourselves

be sons; and it is only those who are led by the Spirit of

God who are the sons of God.... Ask for great things, and

small things will be given to you. This is exactly the

spirit of the Lord's Prayer.... Act for God. Direct your

thoughts and intentions Godward, and your intelligence and

affections will gradually follow along the line of your

action.... You must put God first, or nowhere.... It is a

perilous error to say that we have only to follow our

conscience; we have to enlighten our conscience and keep it

enlightened.... There is no greater plague of our generation

than the nervous anxiety which characterises all its

efforts. We ought to be reasonably careful, and then go

boldly forward in the peace of God.... Our Lord did not

mean to make of His disciples a new kind of Pharisee.

....'Judge not,' means, Do not be critical. The condemnation

of one who is always finding fault carries no moral weight.

It is those who have the lowest and vaguest standards of

what is right who are often the most critical in judgment of

other people.... We ought so to limit our desires that what

we want for ourselves we can reasonably expect also for

others.... A man who wants to do his duty must always be

prepared to stand alone.... Christianity is not so much a

statement of the true end or ideal of human life, as a great

spiritual instrument for realising the end.

These extracts will be sufficient to show what are the characteristics

of these little commentaries. They exhibit extreme honesty of purpose,

fearless acceptance of Christ's teaching honestly interpreted, scorn of

unreality and empty words, and a determination never to allow preaching

to be divorced from practice. No more stimulating Christian teaching has

been given in our generation.

The valuable treatise on the Holy Communion, called 'The Body of

Christ,' is too theological for detailed discussion in these pages. The

points in which the Roman Church has perverted and degraded the really

Catholic sacramental doctrine are forcibly exposed, and the true nature

of the sacrament is unfolded in a masterly and beautiful manner.

Outspoken Essays · 第 11 / 25 段