That there is at present a widespread alienation from the Christian
Faith can hardly be denied. Sometimes by violent invective, sometimes
by quiet assumption, the conclusion is conveyed that Christianity is
obsolete. Whatever benefits it may have conferred in rude,
unenlightened ages, it is now outgrown, it is not in keeping with the
science and discovery of modern times. 'The good Lord Jesus has had
His day,'[1] is murmured in pitying condescension towards those who
still suffer themselves to be deceived by the antiquated superstition.
The statements in which our forefathers embodied the relations {4}
between God and man are no longer, except by a very few, considered
adequate; and there is everywhere a demand that those statements should
be recast. Is not all this an irresistible proof that the beliefs of
the Church have been abandoned, that the old notions of the Divine
care, the spiritual world, the everlasting life, cannot be maintained,
must be relegated to the realm of imagination? The blessings with
which Christianity is commonly credited spring from other sources: the
evils with which society is infected are its result, direct or indirect.
I
Such accusations, it may occur to us, cannot be made seriously: they
bear their refutation in the very making; they cannot be propounded
with any expectation of being accepted. This may seem self-evident to
us: it is not self-evident to multitudes of eager, {5} earnest men.
The accusations are persistently made by vigorous writers and
impassioned speakers, and are received as incontrovertible
propositions. However astonishing, however painful, it may be for us
to hear, it is well that we should know, what, in largely circulated
books and periodicals, and in mass meetings of the people, is said
about the Faith which we profess, and about us who profess it.
Listen to some of the terms in which Christianity is impeached.
'I undertake,' says Mr. Winwood Reade, 'I undertake to show that the
destruction of Christianity is essential to the interests of
civilisation; and also that man will never attain his full powers as a
moral being, until he has ceased to believe in a personal God, and in
the immortality of the soul. Christianity must be destroyed.'[2]
'The hostile evidence,' says Mr. Philip {6} Vivian, 'appears to be
overwhelming. Christianity cannot be true. Provided that we see
things as they really are, and not as we wish them to be, we cannot but
come to this conclusion. We cannot get away from facts. Modern
knowledge forces us to admit that the Christian Faith cannot be
true.'[3]
'I want,' exclaims Mr. Vivian Carey, who has apparently, like Lord
Herbert of Cherbury, received a revelation to prove that no revelation
has been given, 'I want to destroy the fetich of centuries and to
instil in its place a life of duty, and of faith in God and man, and I
believe there is a power that has impelled me to attempt this task....
A system that has produced such results must be essentially bad.... It
will not be difficult to create a faith and a religion that will serve
the needs of humanity, where Christianity has so deplorably failed.'[4]
{7}
'If Christianity,' argues Mr. Charles Watts, 'were potent for good,
that good would have been displayed ere now.... The ties of domestic
affection, the bonds of the social compact, the political relations of
rulers and ruled, all have surrendered themselves to its influence.
Yet with all these advantages, it has proved unable to keep pace with a
progressive civilisation.'[5]
'In a really humane and civilised nation,' Mr. Robert Blatchford
contends, 'there should be and need be no such thing as Ignorance,
Crime, Idleness, War, Slavery, Hate, Envy, Pride, Greed, Gluttony,
Vice. But this is not a humane and civilised nation, and never will be
while it accepts Christianity as its religion. These are my reasons
for opposing Christianity.'[6] 'Christianity,' he iterates and
reiterates, 'is not true.'[7]
'Onward, ye children of the new Faith!' {8} exultantly cries Mr.
Moncure D. Conway. 'The sun of Christendom hastes to its setting, but
the hope never sets of those who know that the sunset here is a sunrise
there!'[8]
Such is the manner in which the downfall of Christianity is now
proclaimed. And the impression is prevalent that, though in all ages
Christianity has been the object of doubt and of scorn, yet never has
it been rejected with such intensity of hatred as now, never have keen
criticism and deep earnestness, wide learning and shrewd mother-wit
been so combined in the attack. It is not merely the reckless, the
dissolute, the frivolous who turn away from its reproofs, seeking
excuses for their self-indulgence, but it is the thoughtful, the
austere, the high-principled, the reverent, the unselfish, who are
engaged in a crusade against all that we, as Christians, hold dear.
'To the old spirit of mockery, coarse or refined, to the old wrangle of
argument, {9} also coarse or refined, has succeeded the spirit of
grave, measured, determined negation.'[9] Men whose integrity and
elevation of character are beyond suspicion, take their places among
the rebels against the authority of Christ. They are fighting, they
assert, not for the removal of a check to their vices, but for the
introduction of a nobler ideal. In the demolition of Christianity, in
the sweeping away of every vestige of religious belief, religious
custom, religious hope, they imagine themselves to be conferring
inestimable benefits upon mankind. Christianity, in their view, is the
product of delusion and the buttress of all social ills.