"SMILES'" CONSECRATION
If, half an hour previous, Donald had been told that, during the first
evening of his long anticipated visit to his forest of enchantment, he
was to play the part of patient in a spiritual clinic, conducted by a
wandering backwood preacher for the instruction of a seventeen-year-old
mountain girl--as well as for his own enlightenment--he would have
scoffed at the idea; yet, oddly enough, he felt no sense of displeasure
or antagonism.
In the company of this unaffected man of God, the simple old mountaineer
and the equally simple girl only, vanished all the self-conscious
reserve and reticence which usually attacks the modern city dweller when
called upon to speak of things spiritual and eternal, and which had so
often bound Donald's tongue, even when his inner being cried aloud for
expression.
"I hardly blame you for your attitude of mind, doctor," began Mr.
Talmadge. "Although it is certain that the knowledge of God starts from
Himself a ray of pure white light, the dogmas, creeds and
theologies--invented by many men of many minds--have raised between it
and our spiritual eyes a glass clouded with earthly murkiness, through
which we now see darkly. Only as mankind grows in spiritual stature, and
lifts his head above the clouds, can he hope to see the ray in all its
purity and glory."
"Yes, I suppose that's so," assented Donald. "But I'm afraid that my
difficulties lie deeper than the unessential differences in dogma.
However, since our little friend is the one who has questions to ask,
let her conduct the catechism."
Rose was speechless with embarrassment, but finally managed to say, "I
reckon I'm so ignorant, that I can't say the things that are in my
heart. Please, Dr. Mac, you ask the reverend the questions and let me
just sit and listen. Only don't use too big words, for I want to
understand."
"All right, I'll be cross-examiner, but please believe, Mr. Talmadge,
that what I may say is not intended to be argumentative, but rather
honestly inquisitive. I really would like to find out if any one can
reasonably explain some of the many things in religion to the acceptance
of which I have been unable to reconcile myself."
"I'll do it gladly, if I can. But, before you begin, let me apologize
for what I said in ill-timed jest about doctors being atheists. I
suppose that, in one sense, there isn't a more truly religious class of
men in the world."
"I can't agree to that, either," said Donald.
"Perhaps not, but tell me this. Isn't the structure and functionings of
the human body infinitely more wonderful to you, who have made an
intimate study of it, than it can be to us who have not?"
"Undoubtedly. It's the most marvellous thing on God's earth," answered
Donald, unthinkingly employing an expression heard in childhood.
"There!" cried Mr. Talmadge. "He's convicted out of his own mouth, isn't
he, Rose? 'God's earth', he says."
"A mere figure of speech," the physician laughed.
"A statement of fact, sir. There are mighty few of you doctors who will
not, within your hearts of hearts, agree that a Supreme Being must have
designed this earthly temple which we call our body, the world we dwell
in, and established the laws that govern both. And, knowing, as none
others can, _how_ wonderfully the former is constructed, is not a
doctor's appreciation of the Almighty's power bound to be sincere?"
"Granted. But that isn't being religious," Donald protested.
"It is the foundation of all true religion," was the quiet answer.
The physician was still dubious. "Well, perhaps. Still, I doubt if many
ministers would agree that merely because a man may believe in a
superhuman creative power, he is religious, if, at the same time he
says--as I must--that he doesn't and can't subscribe to many of the
things which we were taught as children to believe as 'gospel truth.'"
There was the sound of a shocked and troubled "Oh," from Rose, but the
minister's composure was in no wise ruffled.
"The trouble is, I imagine, that you have mentally outgrown the
willingness to accept certain statements blindly, as children and
primitive minds do, and yet have made no really earnest endeavor to lift
the veil and look behind it with the intent of finding out if a simple
and understandable truth may not lie hidden there."
"But how is one going to get behind a plain statement of what is
apparently meant to be fact, such as the description of the creation in
Genesis?" demanded Donald, somewhat impatiently. "Science is absolute,
and I, for one, know that the Darwinian theory of life, or one
substantially like it, is true. Why, a study of human anatomy proves it,
even if we did not have conclusive evidence in anthropology and geology.
So, in the very first words of the Bible, we start off with a conflict
between its tenets, and what human learning shows us to be an
indisputable fact."
"Do we?" smiled the minister.
"Don't we?" answered Donald.
Rose sat looking first at one, then at the other, with a puzzled look in
her eyes, for it was all Greek to her.
Noticing this, Mr. Talmadge said, "I guess that we've started a bit too
strongly for our little listener, but we want her to accompany us from
the start," and he briefly, in simple words, outlined the Darwinian
theory, which brought an outraged grunt from Big Jerry. Then he turned
back to Donald, and said, "Take the story of ... well, say the prodigal
son, for an example. Was that the account of real happenings, think
you?"
"Of course not. Merely a parable." The other's mind reverted to the one
which he himself had preached by letter to little "Smiles."
"The Bible is filled with parables," said Mr. Talmadge, simply. "Why
should we regard certain stories as allegories merely, and others as
historically accurate statements of fact when they are difficult to
credit as such? Especially why should we do so in the face of the
obvious fact that the earlier part of the Old Testament is simply
tradition, handed down, orally at first, by an intensely patriotic and
rather vain race? _Sacred_ tradition it is, to be sure; but that should
not deter us from endeavoring to analyze it in the light of reason.
Besides, hasn't it ever occurred to you that in a translation from the
original Hebrew, some of the finer meanings of the old words are sure to
have been lost or distorted?"
"Yes, I suppose that is so."
"As a matter of fact, the Hebrew word '_Yom_,' which, in the story of
the Creation, has been translated 'day,' also means 'period.' And it is
a rather interesting thing, in this connection, that the biblical
account mentions an evening to each of the first six 'days,' but not to
the seventh, which shows that _it_ isn't finished yet. Science tells us
that this last period, since the creation of mankind, has already
lasted many thousands of years--although the length of time ascribed to
it varies greatly--and this gives us some idea of how long those other
'days' might have been. Besides, in this case, we do not have to be
'finicky' about the meaning of the ancient word, for in the Psalms there
is a verse which says that a thousand years in _His_ sight are ..."
"Are but as yesterday," Rose completed the quotation in her gentle
voice. "You see, those were God's days, not ours."
"Well, I'll be ... blessed," said Donald. "It is logical enough, isn't
it? The trouble in this case, at least, was that I never consciously
tried to reconcile what I regarded as the old and new beliefs."
"But, Mr. Talmadge," Smiles' perplexed voice broke in. "If human beings
just developed from a kind of monkey ..."
"The anthropoid ape wasn't exactly a monkey, although he may have looked
and acted like one," laughed Donald.
"Well, but how could the Good Book say that God created man in His own
image?"
"Do you remember what Paul said, in his wonderful epistle to the
Corinthians? He answered your question when he wrote, 'There is a
natural body, and there is a spiritual body ... and as we have borne the
image of the earthly, so shall we also bear the image of the heavenly.'
What does the Bible say that God is, Rose?"
"'God is a spirit,'" whispered Smiles, reverently.
"Exactly. And Dr. MacDonald will tell you that 'spirit' comes from a
Latin word which means 'breath.' When God perceived that some of the
earth creatures had, according to His plan, developed sufficiently in
mind so that they could rule the world, He breathed into them some of
His own spirit, and thus created them in His own image--for of course a
spirit hasn't form and shape like beings of flesh and blood."
"Hasn't He?" gasped the girl. "Why, there is a picture of Him, like a
great big man with long beard, in my Bible."
"Merely symbolic, dear child, and I have always felt that it was a vain
symbolism, in both senses of that word. You look them up in your new
dictionary to-morrow. In trying hard to picture God, men have made Him
in the likeness of the most wonderful things their eyes had ever
seen--themselves--and just increased His size. As for the beard, that is
supposed to be a sign of power and strength.
"Of course, in fact, God isn't a man or even a super-man, but a spirit,
combining the spiritual elements of both male and female."
"I reckon I jest hev ter think of er somebody fer ter worship," broke in
the hitherto silent Jerry. "Jest something like ther wind air er bit too
onsartain fer me."
"And for millions of others," answered the minister quickly. "Of course
there isn't the slightest bit of harm in people thinking of Our Heavenly
Father as a Being with a form which our eyes might see if they were only
given the power to behold heavenly, as well as earthly, things. The
conception of the Omnipotent as a physical embodiment has in the past
been of incalculable advantage in making an appeal to an aboriginal type
of mind, since it really requires some sort of material personification,
which it can at least visualize, the conception of which serves as an
incentive for well-doing, and a deterrent from evil doing. It is
therefore infinitely preferable as a working basis to an unembodied
force."
Big Jerry brought a smile to the lips of the other two men by bursting
out, "Durned ef I understand. Them words air too powerful ederkated fer
me."
"But," said Rose, "what you say kind of frightens me, Mr. Talmadge. If
we can't ever see God, even in Heaven, how can we be sure that He _is_?"
"Have you ever seen ... love?" queried the minister softly.
"No, sir."
"Yet you know that _it_ is. You've never seen, tasted, touched or
smelled thought, but you know that it exists. In the same mysterious way
we know, and we shall know more perfectly hereafter, that the Great
Spirit--I've always loved that beautiful Indian expression--_is_."
"Yes," she said, somewhat uncertainly. "I _think_ that I understand. But
it's powerful hard to understand how I can be His little child if He
isn't a person."
"I don't wonder that it puzzles you, dear. It is hard for even the
oldest of us to try to imagine something entirely different from what we
have actually seen with our mortal eyes, and we can hardly conceive of a
spirit, or even a ghost, as something without some sort of a form, even
though it be a very misty one. But the _real_ you isn't the flesh that
we can see and touch, but the spirit that dwells inside, and, just as
some of your earthly father and mother is in your body, so you have
something of God within you, which was given you at birth. We call it
..."
"My soul."
"Yes. And as that was part of Him you are His child ... so are we
all--spiritual children."
"And Jesus? Was He His son in the same way?" whispered the girl.
"Exactly, only to a far greater degree than we can hope to be, for to
Him the Heavenly Father gave His spirit in fuller measure than He ever
had before to mankind, so that He might set an example to the world and
teach us the way we should try to live."
There was silence for a moment, and then Smiles spoke the thought that
had been troubling her. "But, Mr. Talmadge, if God hasn't any body and
our spirits are like him, why heaven ..."
Mr. Talmadge sent a glance of smiling appeal at the doctor as though to
say, "Now I'm in for it. How can I explain heaven as a spiritual
condition?" Aloud he said, "I won't pretend to know just what heaven is
like, but, of course, our spirits won't need an earth like this to walk
on."
"But," persisted the child, "the Good Book says that there are many
mansions there, and golden streets, and also that it is a land flowing
with milk and honey."
"So it does, and very likely there are, in the realms of the spirit,
things which correspond to those that we have known on earth, but I am
quite sure that they are not _material_ things."
"Ef thar haint no real heaven, thar haint no real hell," broke in Big
Jerry, whose mind had been slowly grasping the meaning of the minister's
words. "I reckon thar must be a place uv punishment fer sinners."
Painstakingly, as though explaining to a child, Mr. Talmadge answered,
"Mr. Webb, did you ever do something wrong, because of which your
conscience troubled you later?"
"Reckon I hev. Reckon I suffered the torments uv the damned fer hit."
"Did you ever burn your hand?"
"Yes, I done thet, too; powerful bad."
"Which caused you the most suffering, your conscience or your hand?"
"I erlows thet my conscience done hit."
"That is the answer to your implied question. God doesn't need to give
us new bodies, and send them into a place of fire and brimstone to
punish us for our sins. If the soul suffers, it is in hell, even though
it may still be in our mortal bodies. That it must suffer, when we do
wrong, we know. But, Mr. Webb, I do not think that it is meant to be
punishment in the sense of retribution--getting even--so much as it is
for correction. You know that men put gold through the fire to purge it
of the dross that makes it dim and lustreless. That is what the fires of
the spirit are for; that is why the Bible speaks of Hell as a place of
fire. It is another parable."
"Yes, I see," said Rose, but the old man shook his head, unconvinced.
Then the girl asked suddenly, "But why was God so good as to give us
part of Himself and let us make it impure and suffer, Mr. Talmadge?"
"Ah, now you are getting into the depths of religion and I'd rather not
discuss that until you have had a chance to think over what we have
talked about already. All that I wanted to do to-night was to get both
you, and the doctor, to thinking for yourselves. Come and see me,
doctor, if you want to continue this discussion. I've got theories on
any subject that you may mention, I guess," he laughed. "But I won't
count the evening wasted--even leaving out the pleasure I have had--if I
have helped to open your eyes, ever so little, to the light."
"Oh, you have ... and mine, too," answered Rose. "I mean to think
_hard_, but if I get very puzzled, I'll come to see you about it. But,
anyway, I mean to be God's little child all my life--as well as a
trained nurse. And I mean to help Dr. Mac, always, to be a child of our
heavenly Father, too," she added, simply. As Donald arose to bid the
minister good-night, his eyes were a little misty, for the girl's
unaffected declaration had moved him more deeply than he had ever been
moved in his life.