the inspiration of the Book of Books, was the outgrowth of a chance
rereading of Elijah's prayer test. I was preparing an address for the
celebration of the Tercentenary of the King James' Translation when, on
the train, I turned by chance to Elijah's challenge to the prophets of
Baal. It suggested to me what I regard as an unanswerable argument,
namely, a challenge to those who reject the Bible to put their theory to
the test and produce a book, the equal of the Bible, or admit one of two
alternatives, either that the Bible comes from a source higher than man
or that man has so degenerated that less can be expected of him now than
nineteen hundred years ago.
In preparing a Sunday-school lesson on Abraham's faith I was so
impressed with the influence of faith on the life of the patriarch and,
through him, on the world, that I prepared a college address on "Faith,"
a part of which I have reproduced in my lecture on "The Spoken Word."
It was a chance rereading of an extract from the account of the Ten
Lepers which led me to prepare the lecture reproduced in this chapter.
The subject to which I invite your attention is as important to-day as
it was when the Master laid emphasis upon it. As He approached a certain
village ten lepers met Him; they recognized Him and cried out, "Jesus,
Master, have mercy upon us." He healed them; when they found that they
had been made whole, one of them turned back and, falling on his face at
Jesus' feet, poured forth his heart in grateful thanks. Christ, noticing
the absence of the others, inquired, "Were there not ten cleansed, but
where are the nine?" This simple question has come echoing down through
nineteen centuries, the most stinging rebuke ever uttered against the
sin of ingratitude. If the lepers had been afflicted with a disease
easily cured, they might have said, "Any one could have healed us,"
but only Christ could restore them to health, and yet, when they had
received of His cleansing power, they apparently felt no sense of
obligation; at least, they expressed no gratitude.
Some one has described ingratitude as a meaner sin than revenge--the
explanation being that revenge is repayment of evil with evil, while
ingratitude is repayment of good with evil. If you visit revenge upon
one, it is because he has injured you first and the law takes notice of
provocation. Ingratitude is lack of appreciation of a favour shown; it
is indifference to a kindness done.
Ingratitude is so common a sin that few have occupied the pulpit for a
year without using the story of the Ten Lepers as the basis of a sermon;
and one could speak upon this theme every Sunday in the year without
being compelled to repeat himself, so infinite in number are the
illustrations. Those who speak of ingratitude usually begin with
the child. A child is born into the world the most helpless of all
creatures; for years it could not live but for the affectionate and
devoted care of parents, or of those who stand in the place of parents.
If, when it grows up, it becomes indifferent; if its heart grows cold,
and it becomes ungrateful, it arouses universal indignation. Poets and
writers of prose have exhausted all the epithets in their effort to
describe an ungrateful child. Shakespeare's words are probably those
most quoted:
"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child."
But it is not my purpose to speak of thankless children; I shall rather
make application of the rebuke to the line of work in which I have been
engaged. For some thirty years my time, by fate or fortune, has
been devoted largely to the study and discussion of the problems of
government, and I have had occasion to note the apathy and indifference
of citizens. I have seen reforms delayed and the suffering of the people
prolonged by lack of vigilance. Let us, therefore, consider together for
a little while some of the priceless gifts that come to us because we
live under the Stars and Stripes--gifts so valuable that they cannot be
estimated in figures or described in language--gifts which are received
and enjoyed by many without any sense of obligation, and without any
resolve to repay the debt due to society.
These gifts are many, but we shall have time for only three. The first
is education; it is a gift rather than an acquirement. It comes into our
lives when we are too young to decide such questions for ourselves. I
sometimes meet a man who calls himself "self-made," and I always want to
cross-examine him. I would ask him when he began to make himself, and
how he laid the foundations of his greatness. As a matter of fact, we
inherit more than we ourselves can add. It means more to be born of a
race with centuries of civilization back of it than anything that we
ourselves can contribute. And, next to that which we inherit, comes that
which enters our lives through the environment of youth. In this country
the child is so surrounded by opportunities, that it enters school as
early as the law will permit. It does not _go_ to school, it is _sent_
to school, and we are so anxious that it shall lose no time that, if
there is ever a period in the child's life when the mother is uncertain
as to its exact age, this is the time. I heard of a little boy, who,
when asked how old he was, replied, "I am five on the train, seven in
school and six at home." The child is pushed through grade after grade,
and, according to the statistics, a little more than ninety per cent,
of the children drop out of school before they are old enough to decide
educational questions for themselves. They are scarcely more than
fourteen.
Taking the country over, a little less than one in ten of the children
who enter our graded school ever enter high school, and not quite one
in fifty enter college or university. As many who enter college do not
complete the course, I am not far from the truth when I say that only
about one young man in one hundred continues his education until he
reaches the age--twenty-one--when the law assumes that his reason is
mature. I am emphasizing these statistics in order to show that we are
indebted to others more than to ourselves for our education. That which
we do would not be done but for what others have already done. Even
those who secure an education in spite of difficulties have received
from some one the idea that makes them appreciate the value of an
education.
When we are born we find an educational system here; we do not devise
it, it was established by a generation long since dead. When we are
ready to attend school we find a schoolhouse already built; we do not
build it, it was erected by the taxpayers, many of whom are dead. When
we are ready for instruction we find teachers prepared by others, many
of whom have passed to their reward.
How do we feel when we complete our education? Do we count the cost to
others and think of the sacrifices they have made for our benefit? Do we
estimate the strength that education has brought to us and feel that we
should put that strength under heavier loads? We are raised by our study
to an intellectual eminence from which we can secure a clearer view of
the future; do we feel that we should be like watchmen upon the tower
and warn those less fortunate of the dangers that they do not yet
discern? We _should_, but do we? I venture to assert that more than nine
out of ten of those who receive into their lives, and profit by, the
gift of education are as ungrateful as the nine lepers of whom the Bible
tells us--they receive, they enjoy, but they give no thanks.
But it is even worse than this; the Bible does not say that any one of
the nine lepers used for the injury of his fellows the strength that
Christ gave back to him. All that is said is that they were ungrateful;
but how about those who go out from our colleges and universities? Are
not many of these worse than ungrateful? I would not venture to use my
own language here; I will quote what others have said.
Wendell Phillips was one of the learned men of Massachusetts and a great
orator. In his address on the "Scholar in a Republic," he said that
"The people make history while the scholars only write it." And then he
added, "part truly and part as coloured by their prejudices."
Woodrow Wilson, while president of Princeton University, said:
"The great voice of America does not come from seats of learning.
It comes in a murmur from the hills and woods, and the farms and
factories and the mills, rolling on and gaining volume until it
comes to us from the homes of common men. Do these murmurs echo in
the corridors of our universities? I have not heard them."
President Roosevelt, while in the White House, presented an even
stronger indictment against some of the scholars. In a speech delivered
to law students at Harvard he declared that there was scarcely a great
conspiracy against the public welfare that did not have Harvard brains
behind it. He need not have gone to Harvard to utter this terrific
indictment against college graduates; he might have gone to Yale, or
Columbia, or Princeton, or to any other great university, or even to
smaller colleges. It would not take long to correct the abuses of which
the people complain but for the fact that back of every abuse are the
hired brains of scholars who turn against society and use for society's
harm the very strength that society has bestowed upon them.
Let me give you an illustration in point, and so recent that one will be
sufficient: A few months ago the Supreme Court at Washington handed
down a decision overturning every argument made against the Eighteenth
Amendment and the enforcement law. Who represented the liquor traffic in
that august tribunal? Not brewery workers, employees in distilleries, or
bartenders; these could not speak for the liquor traffic in the Supreme
Court. No! Lawyers must be employed, and they were easily found--big
lawyers, scholars, who attempted to overthrow the bulwark that society
has erected for the protection of the homes of the country.
Every reform has to be fought through the legislatures and the courts
until it is finally settled by the highest court in our land, and there,
vanquished wrong expires in the arms of learned lawyers who sell their
souls to do evil--who attempt to rend society with the very power that
our institutions of learning have conferred upon them. All of our
reforms would be led by scholars, if all scholars appreciated as they
should the gift of education. There are, of course, a multitude of noble
illustrations of scholars consecrating their learning to the service of
the people, but many scholars are indifferent to the injustice done to
the masses and some actually obstruct needed reforms--and they do it for
pay.
My second illustration is even more important, for it deals with the
heart. I am interested in education; if I had my way every child in
all the world would be educated. God forbid that I should draw a line
through society and say that the children on one side shall be educated
and the children on the other side condemned to the night of ignorance.
I shall assume no such responsibility. I am anxious that my children
and grandchildren shall be educated, and I do not desire for a child or
grandchild of mine anything that I would not like to see every
other child enjoy. Children come into the world without their own
volition--they are here as a part of the Almighty's plan--and there is
not a child born on God's footstool that has not as much right to all
that life can give as your child or my child. Education increases
one's capacity for service and thus enlarges the reward that one can
rightfully draw from society; therefore, every one is entitled to the
advantages of education.
There is no reason why every human being should not have _both_ a _good
heart_ and a _trained mind_; but, if I were compelled to choose between
the two, I would rather that one should have a good heart than a trained
mind. A good heart can make a dull brain useful to society, but a bad
heart cannot make a good use of any brain, however trained or brilliant.
When we deal with the heart we must deal with religion, for religion
controls the heart; and, when we consider religion we find that the
religious environment that surrounds our young people is as favourable
as their intellectual environment. As in the case of education, lack
of appreciation may be due in part to lack of opportunity to make
comparison. If we visit Asia, where the philosophy of Confucius
controls, or where they worship Buddha, or follow Mahomet, or observe
the forms of the Hindu religion, we find that except where they have
borrowed from Christian nations, they have made no progress in fifteen
hundred years. Here, all have the advantage of Christian ideals, and
yet, according to statistics, something more than half the adult males
of the United States are not connected with any religious organization.
Some scoff at religion, and a few are outspoken enemies of the Church.
Can they be blind to the benefits conferred by our churches? Security of
life and property is not entirely due to criminal laws, to a sheriff in
each county, and to an occasional policeman. The conscience comes first;
the law comes afterward.
Law is but the crystallization of conscience; moral sentiment must be
created before it can express itself in the form of a statute. Every
preacher and priest, therefore, whether his congregation be large or
small, who quickens the conscience of those who hear him helps the
community. Every church of every denomination, whether important or
unimportant, that helps to raise the moral standards of the land
benefits all who live under the flag, whether they acknowledge their
obligations or not.
But lack of appreciation on the part of those outside the Church would
not disturb us so much if all the church members lived up to their
obligations. How much is it worth to one to be born again? Of what value
is it to have had the heart touched by the Saviour and so changed that
it loves the things it used to hate and hates the things it formerly
loved? Of what value is it to have one's life so transformed that,
instead of resembling a stagnant pool, it becomes like a living spring,
giving forth constantly that which refreshes and invigorates? What is it
worth to the Christian, and what is it worth to those about him, to
have his life brought by Christ into such vital living contact with the
Heavenly Father, that that life becomes the means through which the
goodness of God pours out to the world?
But, I go a step farther and ask whether the Church as an
organization--not any one denomination, but the Church
universal--appreciates its great opportunities, its tremendous
responsibility, and the infinite power behind it. If the Church is what
we believe it to be it must be prepared to grapple with every problem,
individual and social, whether it affects only a community or involves
a state, a nation, or a world. There must be _some_ intelligence large
enough to direct the world or the world will run amuck. We believe that
God is the only intelligence capable of governing the world, and God
must act through the Church or outside of it. If the Church is not big
enough to act as the mouthpiece of the Almighty--not in the sense that
the Church ought to exercise governmental authority, but its members,
seeking light from the Heavenly Father through prayer, should be able to
act wisely as citizens--if, I repeat, the Church is not big enough to
deal with the problems that confront the world, then the Church must
give way to some more competent organization. Christians have no other
alternative; they _must_ believe that the _teachings of Christ can be
successfully applied to every problem that the individual has to meet
and to every problem with which governments have to deal_. I have
in another lecture in this series called attention to Christ's
all-inclusive claim set forth in the closing verses of the last chapter
of Matthew, but I must repeat it here because it is the basis of what I
desire to say on this branch of the subject. Christ declared that _all_
power had been given into His hands; He sent His followers out to make
disciples of _all_ nations; and He promised to be with them _always_,
even unto the end of the world. If the Church takes Christ at His word
and claims to be His representative on earth it cannot shirk its duty.
If Christians are as grateful to God, to Christ, and to the Bible as
they should be, they will give attention to every problem that affects
the individual, the community, and the larger units of society and
government. They will consider it their duty to _carry their religion
into business and politics_ and to apply the teachings of Christ to
every subject that affects human welfare. In another lecture I call
attention to the Church's duty to reconcile capital and labour, and to
teach God's law of rewards.
The third gift to which I would call your attention is the form of
government under which we live. Ours is a government in which the people
rule from the lowest unit to the highest office in the nation. Nearly
all of our officials are elected by popular vote, and those appointed
are appointed by officers who are elected. The tendency is everywhere
more and more toward popular government. Some people are afraid of
Democracy but a larger number of people believe that "more democracy
is the cure for such evils as have been developed under popular
government." The Christian is a citizen of the republic as well as a
member of the church and must _practice_ his religion. I have not time
to speak of our government in detail; it is rather my purpose at this
time to call attention to the gift of popular government as we find it
in the nation.
Let us begin, then, with a presidential election. I shall not yield to
the strong temptation to describe a presidential election; suffice
to say that our campaigns begin with the election of delegates to a
National Convention (I hope they will some day begin with the nomination
of presidential candidates at primaries held by all the parties, in all
the states, on the same day). The campaigns last long enough to make the
candidates so weary that they gladly resign themselves to any result if
they can only live to election day.
The campaigns increase in intensity week after week and expire, or
explode, in a blaze of glory the night before election, at which time
the committees of the leading parties set forth the reasons that make
each side certain of success. On election day a hush spreads over the
land and the voters wend their way to the polling places, where each
voter is permitted to register a sovereign's will. Usually by midnight
the wires flash out the name of one who is to be added to the list of
Presidents. We give him a few weeks to rest and get ready and then, on a
certain day in March and at a certain hour, he goes to the White House
door and knocks. The occupant opens the door, and with a wearied look
upon his face, and yet a smile, says, "I was expecting you just at this
moment." Then the man on the inside of the White House goes out and
becomes a private citizen again, while the man on the outside goes in,
takes the oath of office and is clothed with authority such as no other
human being, but a President, ever exercised.
He writes an order and ships go out to sea with their big-mouthed guns;
he writes another order and the ships return. At his command armies
assemble and march and fight, and men die; at his word armies dissolve
and soldiers become citizens again. This goes on for just so many years
and months and weeks and days--for just so many hours and minutes and
seconds, and then there is another knock on the White House door and
another man comes with a new commission from the people.
Is it not a great thing to live in a land like this where the people
can, at the polls, select one of their number and lift him to this
pinnacle of power? And is it not greater still that the people are able
to reduce a President to the ranks as well as to lift him up? When they
elevate him he is just common clay, but when they take him down from his
high place they separate him from those instrumentalities of government
which despots have employed for the enslavement of their people.
And why is it that we live under a government resting upon the consent
of the governed, and in a land in which the people rule? Because
throughout the centuries millions of the best and the bravest have given
their lives that we might be free. Every right of which we boast is a
blood-bought right, and bought by the blood of others, not our own.
Would you not think that people who inherit such a government as this
would be grateful for the priceless gift and live up to every obligation
of citizenship? It would seem so, and yet those acquainted with politics
know that the difficult task is to get the vote out. Even in a hotly
contested presidential election we never get the full vote out. If
ninety per cent of the vote is polled we are happy; if eighty-five per
cent, is polled we are satisfied. If it is an intermediate election the
vote may be less than eighty per cent., or even seventy-five. In a
primary, which is often more important than an election, the vote
sometimes falls below fifty, or even forty per cent.
And what excuses do men give? Often the most trivial. One man says that
he had some work to do and could not spare the time--as if any work
could be more important than voting in a Republic. Another was visiting
his wife's relatives and a family dinner made it inconvenient for him
to return in time to vote. A few years ago I met a man on the train who
told me that he had not voted for ten years. When I asked him why, he
explained that he had voted for a neighbour for a state office--he
declared that the neighbour could not have been elected without his
help--and yet when the election was over the successful candidate failed
to invite him to a dinner given to celebrate the victory. "And," he
added, "I just made up my mind that if I could be so deceived by a man
who lived next door to me I did not have sense enough to vote, and I
have not voted since."
We are all liable to make mistakes, but a mistake at one election is no
justification for failure to vote at other elections. We must do the
best we can; and we must not be discouraged if the men elected do not do
all that we expect of them. The government is not perfect and never will
be, no matter what party is in power. When the Democrats are in power
I can prove by all the Republicans that the government is not perfect;
when the Republicans are in power I can prove by the Democrats that the
government is not perfect. Governments are administered by human beings;
we must expect honest men to make mistakes and we must not be surprised
if, occasionally, an official embezzles power and turns to his own
advantage the authority entrusted to him to use for the public good. We
should punish him and try to safeguard the people. The initiative and
referendum are valuable because they enable the people to protect
themselves from misrepresentation.
But even if the government could be made perfect to-day it would be
imperfect to-morrow. Times change and new conditions arise that make new
laws necessary. As the remedy cannot precede the disease and cannot be
applied until the public becomes acquainted with the disease and has
time to choose the remedy, there is always something that needs to be
done. If Christians do not make it their business to understand their
government's needs and to propose laws that are necessary, others will.
Are any more worthy to be trusted than Christians?
Even constitutions must be changed in order that our government may be
in the hands of the living rather than in the hands of the dead. Those
who wrote our Constitution were very wise men and yet the wisest thing
they did was to include a provision which enabled those who came after
them to change anything that they wrote into the Constitution.
Jefferson thought a constitution should be brought up to date by every
generation. Nineteen changes have been made in our Constitution by
amendment since the Constitution was adopted and four of these have been
adopted within the last ten years. I venture to call attention to the
later ones for two purposes; first, to show how long it takes to amend
the Constitution and why; second, to remind you that these four great
amendments have been adopted by joint action by the two great parties.