CHAPTER XXI.

RELIGION.

Ours is the most religious country on the face of the earth. There are

more churches to the square mile of city and village area than any other

part of the world, not excepting the grand old city of Rome. They may

not be all of the same denomination, but their attendants worship the

same God. They may quarrel a great deal about points of faith, but on

essentials they are, if not exactly one, so closely related that there

is room for any amount of hope. About baptism and regeneration and

sanctification and adoption and perhaps damnation they may differ

frightfully; but all of them base their belief upon the Apostles’ Creed,

and look for their spiritual inspiration to the law of the Old and New

Testament, preferably that of the four gospels.

Religion is a life, whatever else it may or may not be. No person who

makes any pretence of being religious declines to admit that his creed

is the basis of the life which he would like to lead, whether or not he

may succeed in making his practice conform to his principles.

That religion consists in proper life with a view to a life to come, or

at least that it is so regarded, is proved by the custom which becomes

more and more prevalent of judging men and women according to their

religious professions.

There was a time when, if a man assented to a given form of faith, his

life might be almost anything he pleased; and some of the most active

“Defenders of the Faith,” as they styled themselves, whether they were

Catholics, Protestants, Trinitarians or Unitarians, have been found

among men who would nowadays not be considered fit to introduce into

respectable society. The time when such things were has departed, and

shows not the faintest sign of ever returning again. To-day a man’s

religious profession is regarded as an assertion by himself of what he

would have his life, and what he proposes that his life shall be judged

by.

A cheering sign of the earnestness and sincerity of religion in modern

times is that there is very little proselyting now. People who smile

cheerfully at one another during six days of the week, do not glare and

frown at one another on Sunday, as they used to do when meeting on their

ways to their respective churches, and from the manners of members of

different denominations meeting in business or polite society, no one

could imagine or discern to what particular creed any one of those

people subscribed. The Methodist, the Baptist, the Catholic, the

Episcopalian, meet each other cheerily in business and in society, their

families intermarry, they have business relations with each other, and

no one in indorsing or cashing a business man’s note ever thinks of

asking to what particular church he may belong.

In a number of country towns this fraternal feeling has been largely

stimulated and strengthened by what are called “union meetings,” in

which all the members of all the congregations in the town unite at

appointed dates in general services of prayer and worship. Occasionally

the pastor of some church in the vicinity may object to taking part in

such services, but pastors in congregations are frequently like

Congressmen and the people--the followers are ahead of the leader. Only

a little while ago a Catholic priest of high repute in his own

denomination, and held in high esteem by the entire community in which

he was known, ascended the platform at a western camp-meeting, in which

denominations differing from his own had united, and made a most earnest

undenominational and spiritual address to the entire audience before

him.

Revival meetings, however they may be laughed at by the more refined and

fastidious of church people, have had the effect in late years of

attracting a great many thousands of people toward religious life. The

most noted of these were conducted, as every one knows, by Messrs.

Moody and Sankey, two men who were never regularly ordained as clergymen

by any authority whatever--they are simple laymen and undenominational

workers. Yet these men never went to any city or town to begin their

peculiar system of work until all, or nearly all, the pastors of

churches had united in calling them and had promised to assist to the

best of their ability. No effort was made by these men to make converts

for any denomination whatever. Their sole purpose was to cause men and

women to change their manner of life from that of the ordinary every-day

selfishness of the unregenerate man and to compel him to recognize an

over-ruling Providence who should also be the guide of his daily life in

every respect. Mr. Moody, however “shaky” he may have been according to

any theological test, was earnest and sincere enough to say to all the

clerical fraternity of any town in which he worked, that he came only to

sow seed and that it was the business of others to reap the harvest, and

that he cared not into whose flock the lambs were led, so long as they

were rescued from the wilderness. The Moody and Sankey movement is open

to a great deal of criticism, and probably no one has regarded it with

more jealous eye than newspaper editors, yet the editorial fraternity

throughout the country has been compelled to admit that the agitation

begun by these men had a marked influence for good on whatever community

it was exerted.

Such a movement would have been utterly impossible fifty years ago,

perhaps twenty-five years ago. To attempt to lead men to God without

outlining a road which traversed a great many other roads said to lead

in the same direction would have united against the leader all the

churches in the vicinity.

There are no fights between denominations now-a-days. A church may fight

within its own borders as furiously as a gang of worried dogs, but for

the occupants of several different pulpits in any given town or in any

portion of a great city to call each other bad names and intimate that

the followers of any one but the speaker would find themselves after

death in a most uncomfortable and irremediable condition of soul and

body is no longer the case. The principal feeling now excited by large

success in any particular congregation is one of emulation. If one

church holds a successful mission or revival meeting or series of

special efforts, and succeeds in persuading a number of people to enroll

themselves formally among any band of persons professing to be

Christians, the only competitive result that can be seen or heard of is

an effort of the neighboring churches to go and do likewise.

Why, it is no longer necessary for churches to be built solely by those

who are members of the congregation which is endeavoring to erect the

edifice. A subscription for the building fund of a church of any

denomination is passed around among people of all faiths and no faith,

and money is subscribed as freely and as unreservedly as if the effort

was being made simply for the relief of some individual in

embarrassment. It has come to be considered in the United States that a

church, no matter of what denomination, is a good thing to have in the

neighborhood, and the more churches the better. Any man of public spirit

or Christian feeling who has any money to spare can be depended upon to

subscribe to the erection of a church of any denomination, the Mormon

church always excepted.

All this is immensely encouraging to men who regard religion as the

greatest moral influence of life, as well as a promise of things less

seen yet more important in which the majority of people believe more or

less blindly. The change has come about through the different pulpit

method that has come in vogue within a very few years. Men have learned

to look upon religion of any kind as infinitely preferable to no

religion at all. No man who keeps his eyes open has failed to see

changes, such as can be accounted for by no other theory, as to the

possibilities of human nature, suddenly and quietly achieved through the

practice of religious life as indicated by some particular creed. So

far as changes in the lives of individuals are concerned, creed seems to

make very little difference. Within the lines of all denominations men

can be found who, according to every rule and precedent of human nature,

should be dishonest, indolent, vile, and brutal, yet who have suddenly

become respectable and in all things visible entirely decent. Any

attempts to break down religion, as such, are stoutly combated by the

entire intelligent portion of the community, barring the few dilettanti

who are not certain about anything, and least of all about whatever will

make themselves amenable to the moral law. Colonel Bob Ingersoll can

draw a large crowd in a large city, but never in his life has he had as

large an audience as can be found any Sunday in any one of twenty

churches in the city of New York, and were he to enter some of our

smaller towns he would find himself with the same proportion of hearers.

Most religious people who think--and most of them do think--have periods

of doubt on a great many topics which in the earlier portion of their

new life seemed to them essentials. Nevertheless they have learned by

experience not to change their faith, much less to abandon it, because

of some things which they do not understand. Since religion has become a

life instead of a mere belief, all men who sincerely practice it have

learned that there is a great unknown of human experience beyond which

their own lives cannot reach except at certain times and under certain

influences, and to abandon what they doubt would mean to them to also

forego the fruits of what they already know and believe.

There is not the slightest fear that the United States will become an

irreligious nation. Some church pews may be empty, some men may go very

seldom to service, or confession, but that most men think and feel the

influence of religion upon the young and upon the family circle is too

well known and established to admit of any doubt. The heads of families

who are most careless about their own personal lives are often most

earnest in urging upon their families all the ministrations of whatever

churches they may chance to attend. It matters no longer from what

denomination is selected the clergyman who shall ask grace at a large

public dinner, or open a solemn public gathering with prayer, or as to

what may be the creed of the spiritual teacher who may be asked to take

part in deliberations upon grave moral interests of the community.

All this is immensely encouraging, and promises lasting good to the

nation.

"My country, 'tis of thee!" Or, the United States of America; past, present and future. A philosophic view of American history and of our present status, to be seen in the Columbian exhibition. · 第 21 / 26 章