THIS God must be, if he exists, a person--a conscious being. Who can
imagine an infinite personality? This God must have force, and we cannot
conceive of force apart from matter. This God must be material. He must
have the means by which he changes force to what we call thought. When
he thinks he uses force, force that must be replaced. Yet we are told
that he is infinitely wise. If he is, he does not think. Thought is
a ladder--a process by which we reach a conclusion. He who knows all
conclusions cannot think. He cannot hope or fear. When knowledge is
perfect there can be no passion, no emotion. If God is infinite he does
not want. He has all. He who does not want does not act. The infinite
must dwell in eternal calm.
It is as impossible to conceive of such a being as to imagine a square
triangle, or to think of a circle without a diameter.
Yet we are told that it is our duty to love this God. Can we love the
unknown, the inconceivable? Can it be our duty to love anybody? It is
our duty to act justly, honestly, but it cannot be our duty to love. We
cannot be under obligation to admire a painting--to be charmed with a
poem--or thrilled with music. Admiration cannot be controlled. Taste
and love are not the servants of the will. Love is, and must be free. It
rises from the heart like perfume from a flower.
For thousands of ages men and women have been trying to love the
gods--trying to soften their hearts--trying to get their aid.
I see them all. The panorama passes before me. I see them with
outstretched hands--with reverently closed eyes--worshiping the sun. I
see them bowing, in their fear and need, to meteoric stones--imploring
serpents, beasts and sacred trees--praying to idols wrought of wood and
stone. I see them building altars to the unseen powers, staining them
with blood of child and beast. I see the countless priests and hear
their solemn chants. I see the dying victims, the smoking altars, the
swinging censers, and the rising clouds. I see the half-god men--the
mournful Christs, in many lands. I see the common things of life change
to miracles as they speed from mouth to mouth. I see the insane prophets
reading the secret book of fate by signs and dreams. I see them
all--the Assyrians chanting the praises of Asshur and Ishtar--the Hindus
worshiping Brahma, Vishnu and Draupadi, the whitearmed--the Chaldeans
sacrificing to Bel and Hea--the Egyptians bowing to Ptah and Ra, Osiris
and Isis--the Medes placating the storm, worshiping the fire--the
Babylonians supplicating Bel and Morodach--I see them all by the
Euphrates, the Tigris, the Ganges and the Nile. I see the Greeks
building temples for Zeus, Neptune and Venus. I see the Romans kneeling
to a hundred gods. I see others spurning idols and pouring out their
hopes and fears to a vague image in the mind. I see the multitudes,
with open mouths, receive as truths the myths and fables of the vanished
years. I see them give their toil, their wealth to robe the priests, to
build the vaulted roofs, the spacious aisles, the glittering domes. I
see them clad in rags, huddled in dens and huts, devouring crusts and
scraps, that they may give the more to ghosts and gods. I see them make
their cruel creeds and fill the world with hatred, war, and death. I see
them with their faces in the dust in the dark days of plague and sudden
death, when cheeks are wan and lips are white for lack of bread. I hear
their prayers, their sighs, their sobs. I see them kiss the unconscious
lips as their hot tears fall on the pallid faces of the dead. I see the
nations as they fade and fail. I see them captured and enslaved. I see
their altars mingle with the common earth, their temples crumble slowly
back to dust. I see their gods grow old and weak, infirm and faint.
I see them fall from vague and misty thrones, helpless and dead. The
worshipers receive no help. Injustice triumphs. Toilers are paid with
the lash,--babes are sold,--the innocent stand on scaffolds, and the
heroic perish in flames. I see the earthquakes devour, the volcanoes
overwhelm, the cyclones wreck, the floods destroy, and the lightnings
kill.
The nations perished. The gods died. The toil and wealth were lost. The
temples were built in vain, and all the prayers died unanswered in the
heedless air.
Then I asked myself the question: Is there a supernatural power--an
arbitrary mind--an enthroned God--a supreme will that sways the tides
and currents of the world--to which all causes bow?
I do not deny. I do not know--but I do not believe. I believe that the
natural is supreme--that from the infinite chain no link can be lost or
broken--that there is no supernatural power that can answer prayer--no
power that worship can persuade or change--no power that cares for man.
I believe that with infinite arms Nature embraces the all--that there
is no interference--no chance--that behind every event are the necessary
and countless causes, and that beyond every event will be and must be
the necessary and countless effects.
Man must protect himself. He cannot depend upon the supernatural--upon
an imaginary father in the skies. He must protect himself by finding
the facts in Nature, by developing his brain, to the end that he may
overcome the obstructions and take advantage of the forces of Nature.
Is there a God?