RELIGIOUS LIFE AND WORSHIP
It is well sometimes to define our terms and phrases, and it is
absolutely necessary in this case. What is it that we mean when we speak
of the religious life of a people, Christian and non-Christian alike?
Our soldiers have been fighting shoulder to shoulder with Hindoos and
Mohammedans, whose British commander, on the eve of their first battle,
addressed them in words which ought to be long remembered by those who
are working and praying for the hastening of GOD's kingdom, appealing to
their faith, and reminding them that prayers were ascending from Mosque
and from Temple to the GOD of all, on their behalf.
The Hindoos and Moslems have their religious life as well as ourselves.
And it behoves us of the Christian Church, especially when such stirring
words can be addressed to two Eastern peoples, so widely different in
their creeds, to remind them that their prayers are going up to the same
"GOD of all," to look very earnestly and sympathetically at the
religious life and worship of all the different Churches which make up
the "Mystical Body of CHRIST and the blessed company of all faithful
people."
It is along that way and that alone--the affectionate, respectful, and
sympathetic interest in the religious life and worship of those who
differ from us and those not in communion with us, that unity lies, and
I feel sure there is no other. The religious life of a man, or people,
is his life as it is influenced by the creed he professes and the
worship he offers.
We are not thinking at the moment of a moral life, for a moral life is
led by many who, as they would express it, "make no religious
profession." It is open to us to question whether they are not more
influenced than they are aware by the religion of those about them,
which is in the very air they breathe, for there is such an influence as
"religious atmosphere"; or we may think also that they have more
religion than they suspect; but they themselves would disclaim all this.
Some live, as John Stuart Mill lived, frankly without religion, yet
leading a blameless and irreproachable moral life. Then as a contrast
there are the lives of religious people leaving as far as moral values
are concerned much to be desired, and probably, in many cases, most of
all by themselves.
Religious life, however, is creed and worship translated into daily life
and expression, effort and achievement; and accepting that definition I
unhesitatingly claim for the Russian people that they are one of the
most religious peoples in the world. Their religion is the desire and
effort to know GOD. "This is life eternal, to know GOD, and JESUS CHRIST
Whom He has sent." The Russian has not been fully taught as yet the
ethical and moral side of this knowing GOD, though he is ready for it,
but only its mystical side. He seeks the knowledge of GOD, quite simply,
as a spiritual experience.
It will always be found that when races have received civilization and
Christianity suddenly, as the Russians have done, while they astonish
and charm by their spiritual fervour and deep earnestness, they
disappoint by their want of consistency in moral life. But spiritual
fervour and great earnestness arising out of a real need for GOD and a
deep sense of His meeting that need "fulfilling minds and granting
hearts' desires," and a real sense of communion with the Great Eternal
in CHRIST in beautiful and uplifting worship, afford the best of all
foundations for building up moral conduct permanently and well.
To the Russian, as to the ancient Hebrew, moral law will only lastingly
and effectually appeal when prefaced by "GOD hath said." His religion is
GOD; the knowledge of the Most High as revealed in CHRIST. And he is one
of the most consistently religious persons in the world, for he must
have his religion everywhere, and, just as the Hebrew felt it must be,
"when talking with his children, when sitting in his house, when walking
by the way, when going to lie down, and when rising up, written upon the
posts of his house, and on the gates." The mystical or spiritual
temperaments of the two peoples are much the same. Russians have a
passion for GOD. They never want to be away from the sense and
consciousness of His presence. Only when they have gained some sense of
this spiritual endowment of the Russian race will my readers be able to
see where their religious life corresponds with our own, and where it
widely diverges from it. We have spoken of this war as a righteous war;
the Russians as a religious one! They have brought their religion into
it as they have never done into any war before. A Russian officer, for
instance, gave a very picturesque account of the great battle of the
Vistula last October, and ended with these words: "My company was the
first to cross the river, which seemed to boil from the bursting of the
shells. Afterwards nine companies rushed the enemy's position. A priest
with long, streaming hair, and holding high a cross amid a hail of
bullets, stood blessing the soldiers as they ran past." That is the true
Russian, his religion everywhere and in everything. There is nothing in
life, throughout the year, however secular it may seem to us to be,
which does not have that blessing by the priest. The war has had it from
first to last. All through mobilization, in the families from which the
bread-winner was to go, there would be special little private services
such as I have described in my last chapter. On the day when the
conscripts were to depart from the village there would be the Liturgy in
church, with all who could be present, and others outside. There would
be, it has been described for us, the solemn reading of the Holy Gospel
in the open-air, the book resting upon a living lectern; and as they
rode away the last thing the departing men would see, as with those nine
companies on the Vistula, would be the cross lifted high by a priest,
with his long hair streaming over his shoulders, or out upon the wind.
It would be just the same all through the long journeys: the sacred
_ikons_ were carried, the priest marched steadily along, or sat in the
railway carriages with the soldiers, and always with his cross. The
soldiers of course saluted their priests as they saluted their officers,
and for a time it was a little puzzling to decide how this salute should
be suitably returned in such a war as this. For a priest to raise his
hand to his cap did not seem to belong to his sacred office, and so it
was decided he should touch his cross instead. Quite apart from the
regular and official services, the priest would be always fulfilling his
part in bringing God home to his countrymen, until the very end when he
stood blessing them, as we have been told, as they rushed past him to
attack, many of them to return no more. There is something very
inspiring in the thought that the last earthly object many of them saw
as they rushed on to death was the Cross of Him Who had robbed death of
all its terrors, and brought Immortality to light.
One of my great reasons for looking to the Orthodox Church of Russia to
give us our first opportunity, in seeking to promote the larger unity of
Christendom, is, as I had occasion to say at a large public meeting in
London last year, that, like ourselves, they wish to have the New
Testament sense of the presence of CHRIST. I cannot use any other phrase
to express my meaning. It is to me the whole spirit of their worship,
not only at the Holy Communion, where one would expect it, but at all
the other services as well. Litanies form a very important part of their
worship, and as one hears that softly repeated "LORD, have mercy"
(_Gospodi pomilui_) again and again from the choir, it is as if they
were all conscious of speaking straight to their LORD with the feeling
that He is there Himself to grant their prayer. No other refrain that I
have ever heard has the same appealing note of real and moving faith.
I have attended the "all-night service" at S. Isaac's, in Petrograd, on
Saturdays at 6 p.m. It lasts two hours in cathedrals and churches, but
all night in monasteries and convents, and some of us going to S.
Isaac's for the first time would almost wish that it could be "all
night" there also. The glorious richness of the men's voices, their deep
rolling basses and sweet tenors, the silvery trebles of the boys--there
is no organ or other accompaniment--when heard as a new experience makes
one involuntarily think to one's self "I have never heard prayer and
praise expressed like this before." Whether one is behind the screen,
where I was conducted at once, or standing with the choir before
it--there are no seats in a Russian church--noting their picturesque
uniforms like those of officers, and their profound reverence, or moving
amongst the congregation, and looking towards the screen, the same
impression is given everywhere and by every one, "We are praising Thee,
O GOD, we acknowledge Thee to be the LORD. Thou art the King of Glory, O
CHRIST."
[Illustration: _Interior of a Russian Church._]
The screen separates the sacrarium from the body of the church, and is a
carved partition painted and gilded, and in the cathedrals and great
churches, is covered with silver and gold _ikons_, often richly
jewelled, and with numerous lamps and tapers burning before them. At
each side of this screen is a narrow door through which people seem to
pass at will, to and fro, for there is a great feeling of freedom in a
Russian church, and every one does just what he feels led to do. No
ladies, however, may ever pass behind. In its centre are folding doors
which are only used for ceremonial purposes, and are called "The Royal
Gates." In the Liturgy it is a moment of deep solemnity when they are
opened wide, and the priest passes through carrying the bread and wine
for consecration. This is "The Great Entrance." At the evening service
on Saturday night also there is an entrance, when the deacon
carries the Gospels through, before which the gates stand open wide for
a little while, and the congregation may look straight through.
Immediately within stands the altar, a perfectly plain, square structure
with nothing at all upon it but a large copy of the Four Gospels, and
behind it is the seven-branched candlestick. It has an extraordinary
effect upon the worshipper who has only just come to Russia when the
Royal Gates are thrown open thus, and, with incense filling the air, the
seven lamps on the great candlestick come into view. It is for a moment
as if one was back in the days of Zacharias and Elisabeth, waiting for
him to come forth through the gates to bless us, as he did on that
memorable occasion after the announcement of the birth of S. John the
Baptist. It is, however, only for a moment that the Temple fills the
mind, for on looking up the representation of our LORD is there in the
great window above, where He seems to look down upon us in love and
blessing, and "The same yesterday, to-day, and for ever," seems to have
new and blessed significance.
Russian worship to me is just dominated by the very presence of CHRIST.
All the meretricious surroundings, the lights and glittering and
jewelled _ikons_ have not the least power to diminish the joyous,
thankful sense of it. He is in the midst of us "gathered together in His
Name." Every one seems to feel it, every one seeks to realize it. They
are there for that! That is why the beautiful voices keep singing
"_Gospodi pomilui_" or "LORD, be merciful to us." We feel it is real
worship, and I can only hope that many of my readers who have not had
the joy of it in that special way may yet have the opportunity afforded
them. There are Russian churches, of course, in England, and I have
happily and helpfully worshipped in the Russian church in Paris at 6
p.m. on Saturdays; but Russian worship can only be truly known and fully
shared in Russia.
This "New Testament sense of the presence of CHRIST," as I have called
it, is no doubt promoted by the extraordinary veneration given to the
Gospels, both in their external and internal form. There is an intense
feeling of close personal attention as the deacon carries them through
the Royal Gates. They are always beautifully bound, rimmed and clasped
with gold or silver, and often sparkling with diamonds and other
precious stones. A beautifully bound copy--in ordinary churches the
best they have--rests upon the altar, in its very centre, with a silken
covering, and when the priest comes to celebrate he first kisses it, and
then, lifting it up and setting it upon end, and laying the corporal
where it has rested, with the chalice and paten upon it, proceeds to the
Liturgy. The consecration takes place on that part of the altar where
the Gospels have lain before, and where they will again be laid when the
service is over.
The four evangelists always appear painted upon the Royal Gates,
together with a representation of the Annunciation, our LORD, and the
Holy Virgin, on either side. This is never departed from. In every
church which follows traditional lines there are the four huge pillars
holding up the whole structure--typifying the four evangelists again.
Upon the roof they are set forth in the four cupolas, which are always
there at the corners, while a fifth rising above them typifies our LORD
over and above and dominating, yet supported by, them. Then there is
nothing in the ordinary services to compare with the reading of the Holy
Gospel to the people, nor is any special or private ministration
complete without reading some portion of these, the most important parts
of the sacred Scriptures.
It is easy to see, therefore, how it comes about that the Russian sense
of the living CHRIST is essentially that which is realized by His
Apostles and described in the New Testament.
Last year no less than three writers, as different from each other as
they could well be, writing of visits paid to the Holy Land--Mr. Robert
Hichens, the novelist, in _The Holy Land_, Sir Frederick Treves, the
well-known and eminent surgeon, in _The Land that is Desolate_, and Mr.
Stephen Graham, in _With the Russian Pilgrims to Jerusalem_--all alike
show us that no one had made the same impression upon them as the
Russians who had come to realize their LORD in the very place where He
had lived our human life. They all so clearly felt that those
simple-minded folk, as they followed traditions and visited one place
after another from Bethlehem to Calvary, and wept where He had wept, and
prayed where He had prayed, looked over the places and the waters upon
which His eyes had rested, crossed themselves reverently again and again
where He had suffered, and sung _Te Deum_ and _Alleluia_ where He had
risen, were looking not at the things which are seen, but at the things
which are not seen, believing with all the strength of their great and
simple hearts that "the things which are seen are temporal, while the
things which are not seen are eternal."
To the devout Russian the so-called good things of this life are
unsubstantial and swiftly passing experiences, while the great and only
realities worth thinking about seriously are those spiritual experiences
of the Apostles as they went in and out with CHRIST and companied with
Him, which are now described in the Gospels that we may have the same
"even to the end of the ages." If Russia gives, as we pray she may, a
lead to Christendom in the direction of unity, she will have a
wonderfully uplifting and apostolic contribution to offer to the common
stock of our Christian heritage.
And yet with all this wealth of very real spiritual experience there
goes also a sad deficiency of moral conduct. "But that vitiates it all,"
some of my readers may exclaim. No; it does not. We, with our very
different temperament, have come to substitute morality for religion and
the ethical for the spiritual, whereas for the "whole man," as even
Ecclesiastes tells us, _both_ are necessary. Morality is not religion at
all while the spiritual faculties are absolutely quiescent and the soul
knows no need of GOD nor cries out for Him. A deep sense of the
spiritual and a longing and effort to attain touch with the eternal is
religion, although an imperfect morality impairs and cripples the
adequate witness, the full unfettered enjoyment of it. And, as another
writer has lately done in the political sphere, I would plead for the
Russians that "they did not get a fair start."
I have already described the rough-and-ready way in which they were
converted to Christianity, never having anything like our opportunities
of instruction from the first. I have never heard a Russian sermon! The
vast majority of the clergy have never been trained to preach, and would
not be able to do so if they tried. The people are not taught at all in
church, except by what is read to them in Scripture, or what they read
for themselves. Let Englishmen give them "fair play" all round, both in
political and constitutional, and also in moral deficiencies; and let us
remember that it was to a body of real and earnest Christians--"saints"
and "faithful," he himself calls them--that S. Paul found it necessary
to write and caution against "the lusts of the flesh, foolish talking
and unseemly jesting, covetousness and uncleanness, lying and stealing."
If it was necessary to write those fifth and sixth chapters of the
Ephesians to a body of Christian believers of whose sincerity an
Apostle had no doubt, we may well have hopeful patience with a great
body of our fellow Christians whose want of consistency in conduct
provokes such ready criticism. It is well known how a mystical people
like the West Indians (I have described it at length in a former book,
_A Bishop among Bananas_, in chap. v) resent being accused of theft when
helping themselves to "GOD'S gifts," as they call them, in the shape of
fruit and fowls, when they would not dream of taking money, clothing, or
other material things, or would consider themselves thieves if they did.
And so it interested me to learn the other day that the Russian peasant
views thefts of the same kind of things in much the same way, drawing in
his mind a distinction between that which GOD gives for all and that
which man produces for himself. It is imperfect reasoning, we know, as
there is no real distinction between what a man produces by cultivation
and what he manufactures; but we can understand an untrained and rather
childlike mind making such a distinction.
The devout Russian peasantry in this stage often seem to illustrate our
LORD'S words concerning things revealed to "babes" which even the "wise
and prudent" seem to miss. Sir Donald M. Wallace again tells the story
in _Our Russian Ally_ which he told in his _Russia_--it will bear
constant repetition--as an instance of real spiritual insight in a
simple and untrained mind. "I remember once asking a common labourer,"
he says, "what he thought of the Mussulman Tartars among whom he
happened to be living; and his reply, given with evident sincerity,
was--'Not a bad sort of people.' 'And what about their religion?' I
inquired. 'Not at all a bad sort of faith--you see they received it like
the colour of their skins, from GOD.'" He assumed, of course, in his
simple piety, that whatever comes from GOD must be good. It necessitated
a very special spiritual experience and real vision before a Christian
Apostle could say the same thing, "Of a truth I perceive that GOD is no
respecter of persons"; but that common labourer in this little incident
had taken in the same wide outlook, in a perfectly normal way, from his
ordinary surroundings and the religious influences which make up such an
important portion of his life.
The lesson is learnt early. I was, one morning, in an elementary school
in Siberia, just before the work of the day began, to speak to the
children. They opened with prayer, but how different from prayers in our
own schools! The master and teachers did nothing except pray with the
rest. At a sign that all was ready a boy of twelve stepped out and took
his place before the _ikon_ in its corner, and then bowing with that
inimitable grace which belongs alone to the Russian when at prayer, and
making the sign of the Cross, he gravely led the simple prayers of the
whole school, all singing softly and reverently in unison. It was all
inexpressibly touching and appealing, and to be treasured up with those
other things of which one says, "I shall never forget."
The sign of the Cross is always made very slowly and solemnly, quite
differently from other Churches, and from right to left upon the breast,
and it is always accompanied by a slow and reverent bowing of the head,
and is repeated usually three times. It is the special sign during the
public services that a worshipper is just then feeling his or her own
part in it. People do not use this devotion at set times during service,
but just when they wish, and as the spirit moves them. I have been in
the S. Isaac's choir when all the men and boys were singing a hymn, and
suddenly a man near me would stop, bow, and cross himself devoutly, and
then resume his hymn. No one would take the least notice, but all would
go on singing as before. Then a choir-boy, after a moment or two, would
do the same, his companions continuing to sing till their turn of being
moved within came also. I have seen soldiers in the ranks do just the
same when bareheaded at an outdoor service. There is so much spontaneity
and elasticity and liberty in Russian worship. They do just as they feel
"led by the Spirit" to do.
[Illustration: _The Cathedral at Riga._]
One of the most interesting experiences I had last year was attending on
the Feast of the Epiphany--the appointed day for that and similar
services--the blessing of the Neva. The ceremony takes place just
outside the Winter Palace at Petrograd. Diplomatists and other visitors
who wish to look on, stand within at the windows, but I much preferred
to be outside, even though it was bitterly cold and we had to be
bareheaded. There was a magnificent and bewildering gathering of Russian
ecclesiastics, gorgeously vested. Priceless _ikons_ were carried, and
beautiful banners of rich embroideries, the whole effect being strangely
Eastern in character. A few only could enter the small _kiosk_ on the
river's bank where the water, brought in a silver basin, was blessed.
But the thrilling thing that day was the glorious singing, chant and
refrain, which so richly filled the air, stirring the very depths of
one's being, and the innumerable rows of deeply attentive soldiers in
their long grey coats, whose frequent bowings and devout crossings
all through the ranks showed that, though they were there officially,
they were there to worship also. The Emperor walked from the palace
amongst others and returned to it, bareheaded like any common soldier,
with a perfectly plain overcoat like the rest, and nothing whatever to
distinguish him from the crowd. He was unattended and moved quite freely
with the rest, and could not be recognized except by a few of us
standing near the door, who were already familiar with his appearance.
There was but little cheering in consequence, though he acknowledged it
in that modest and unaffected way which always distinguishes him. It was
then that I saw the Grand Duke Nicholas for the first time, the
generalissimo in the war, a magnificent man. He had certain
announcements to make, or directions to give, and his grand voice rang
out on the clear air so that every one could hear. "A real leader of men
that," one felt instinctively without dreaming how soon one would have
cause to remember the thought, under tragically altered circumstances.
We cannot possibly attach too much importance to the fact, admitted on
all sides and in the most unexpected quarters, that this great race,
coming so very closely into our lives, uniting their destiny in some
measure with our own, is above all others a distinctly religious people.
Russia, as must be ever becoming more and more evident, is to be our
ally in a way hitherto entirely unknown to our race and nation.
Thoughtful observers have seen it coming for some time, and are not
taken at all by surprise, but the idea is still new and not altogether
welcome to many. There is no doubt at all about it in my own mind, and I
shall return to it more fully in a later chapter, that while we shall
still remain the friends of France and act the part of true "friends in
need" should occasion again arise, and look with a friendly eye upon
other nationalities, and even--how much I hope it--make up our quarrel
with Prussia and the German peoples she has influenced against us, yet
with Russia our relations are already altogether different, and our two
empires are rapidly beginning to realize that they are coming together
in an entirely different relationship, to knit up true and enduring ties
of brotherly unity with each other, not for selfish purposes at all, but
for a great work together for civilization and for GOD. We Anglo-Saxons
are a deeply religious people at heart, though with our temperamental
reticence and reserve we speak least about the things of which we feel
the most. The Russians are also a sincerely religious people, and they,
on the other hand, bring out most readily, spontaneously, and naturally,
the things which mean most to them. We are unlike each other in
temperament, yet absolutely like each other in our view of the deep
things of GOD. Thus complementary to one another, we have a real
intelligible hope of a lasting friendship. We should have no hope at all
of any such tie between ourselves and them if they did not share our
serious view of human life and responsibility, and base that view upon a
firm belief in GOD. We should feel at heart that we had no real
confidence in their stability, grit, and powers of staying and lasting
out.
Surely the one thing that has come out during the war is the supreme
importance of _morale_. Napoleon went so far, I have seen it stated, as
to say it counted for an army, in proportion to its numbers, as three to
one. I remember too how the military correspondent of the _Times_, in
one of his most interesting articles on the Balkan War, when it was
drawing to a close, explained the disastrous defeat of the Turkish army
by the gradual loss of _morale_ they had sustained by the decay of
religion amongst them under the regime of the Young Turks. Prayers had
been largely given up by the troops, who no longer had the ministrations
of their spiritual leaders, and _morale_ had gone in consequence. Then
had come disaster. He contrasted with all this the tremendous fervour of
the Balkan League, and described a picture he had recently seen in a
French illustrated paper. Two French officers were shown looking at a
Bulgarian regiment on their knees, their priest praying for them and
blessing them before they went into action. "What would one of our
generals get," said one of the French officers to his friend, "if he
ordered such a thing as that?" "He would get the victory," quietly said
the other.
I am expecting great things from Russia, and for us through Russia, for
civilization and for GOD, and what I have written is being ever more and
more widely felt by others also, and even expressed in daily papers,
where at one time we should not have expected such a thing to be thought
of in the midst of a great war. "That Russia is one of the most truly
religious countries in the world is proved by the crowds which filled
and overflowed in all the churches yesterday when thanksgiving services
were held in celebration of the victory, _nor is it possible to doubt
the sincerity and devotion_ of the worshippers. The firm belief in the
divine ruling of the world is to be found among _all classes_."[7]
FOOTNOTES:
[7] _The Daily Mail_ correspondent at Petrograd, November 12, 1914.