CONFLICTING RADIANCIES
There are few, if any, human beings in the world who radiate only evil,
or, on the other hand, only good. Man is a _human_ being, not divine.
Humanity implies a lower stage than divinity, and whether what we call
evil be but manifestations of the imperfect and incomplete, or
deliberate wrong choice for which one is personally responsible, we are
all compelled to admit that there are few people with whom we meet who
radiate toward us and all others only that which is good. Sometimes
these "not good" radiancies have no immoral intent in them, though they
produce bad results.
For instance, it is a well-known fact that many a man is driven to
drunkenness by an unhappy home life, yet probably no member of the
household has the deliberate intention of producing such a result. It
may be that he is equally to blame for the conditions in his home, for
all are imperfect, yet if the appetite for drink has been formed, or
environment supplies great temptation, the complaints, taunts, or anger
of his unhappy family do not increase his powers of resistance, but
rather weaken them. There are men, also, who frankly confess to a
reckless impulse to do wrong whenever they come under any very
depressing influence. It may be true that some peculiarity of
temperament renders them liable to be thrown out of mental balance.
There may be inherent weakness, or hereditary tendency, which renders
them unusually susceptible to depressing radiancies, but the results are
just as deplorable.
Doubtless many a woman, too, warped and twisted out of normal conditions
by disappointment, ill-treatment, and mental suffering, becomes a
tongue-lasher, goes to the bad, or commits suicide, when different
influences and environment would have saved her from such consequences.
There may not seem to be any immorality in the nagging of a husband, or
a wife, or a parent, yet the persistent nagging of some person, whose
intent was only good, has produced direful effects in various ways.
These and a thousand other tendencies of the human being point to our
present imperfection or subjugation to error, out of which we must rise.
_I know a poet._ His words have thrilled millions to a nobler and better
life. His pen has never incited to a mean or ignoble thought or action;
it has always written high and noble truth--peace, good will to men, the
dignity of labor, the joy of helping, the blessing of purity, the
never-failing help of God--and yet in his personal life he sometimes
radiates the degradation of drunkenness and the awfulness of impurity.
_I know a writer._ He is one of the most brilliant men of his State. His
knowledge is profound. He devotes more time, unselfishly, to the good of
his adopted city and State than any other man I know. His work is
untiring in its fervid zeal for the preservation of historic landmarks
that without his efforts would possibly have disappeared; and also for a
museum for the accumulation of evidences of past civilization. Yet he
radiates a vindictive jealousy and fierce hatred of those whom he does
not like that makes even his friends afraid of him and fearful lest they
incur his anger.
Shelley, Byron, Poe, Bret Harte, Leigh Hunt, Landor--and thousands of
others, including the Psalmist David, the Hebrew king whom God
loved--radiated grand, sublime, divine truths, yet they also radiated
weakness and moral wrong.
What should be our mental attitude toward those who give such
conflicting radiancies? Shall we ignore the evil and see only the good?
How _can_ we? How _dare_ we?
Shall we ignore the good and see only the evil?
Again I ask, How can we? How dare we?
There are good people, I know, who do both of these, to me, impossible
things. I want to do neither. I will do neither if I can possibly help
it. I will not stultify _my own_ sense of right and wrong by ignoring
what I deem to be wrong in another. I will reprobate it, for myself, and
earnestly strive to be kept free from it, but, at the same time, I will
see the good in all its beauty and power and will glorify it and accept
it, and thank God that so much good does exist.
The whole question thus resolves itself to me: Shall I refuse to accept
the good of certain men because they do many evil things? Shall I refuse
to accept good except from those who are perfect? If so, from whom shall
I gain good? From you, reader? Are you perfect? If you take that
position you had better drop this book, here and now, for you cannot
receive good from me, for too sadly do I know that neither the book nor
its writer is perfect. Joaquin Miller perfectly expresses this thought
in the introductory lines to his poem on Byron:
In men whom men condemn as ill,
I find so much of goodness still,
In men whom men account divine,
I find so much of sin and blot,
I hesitate to draw the line between the two,
Where God has not!
Let us be fearless, honest, just, frank. Too often we condemn people who
have as much good as evil in them--or more--because we are afraid if we
do not condemn the evil that they do, openly and loudly, people will
think we tolerate evil because we ourselves are evil. Hawthorne wrote
his _Scarlet Letter_ to teach us different. The harsh, stern,
vindictively pure and good people--in my humble judgment--have many and
grave sins to answer for as well as those whom they so mercilessly
condemn. I condemn all that which appears evil to me, and I seek to
avoid it, but I condemn no man, no woman. That is not my privilege, my
work. Judgment belongs to God who knows all circumstances and
understands all hearts. I know and understand very little, for I am very
short-sighted and ignorant. How can any of us look with so severe an eye
upon the sins of our brothers and sisters when we, too, are imperfect,
ignorant, prone to wrong. John Wesley taught the people of his
denomination very differently, though they haven't yet learned the
lesson. One of his hymns says:
To hate sin with all my heart
And yet the sinner love.
And the Lord of the whole Christian Church spoke in no uncertain terms
when He said, "Judge Not," and in His action to those who brought the
adulterous woman to Him clearly showed us what our attitude should be.
Joaquin Miller wrote a much-needed lesson for this age, this
civilization, this people (the puritanic American and Anglo-Saxon), when
he took this incident in Christ's life and made it the theme of his
poem, _Charity_. May its high and sympathetic truths sink deep, so that
henceforth you will be able to stand side by side with the Divine in
dealing with sinful men and women, and while condemning the sin be able
to say: "Go, and sin no more." And, remember, it is not for you to say
which sin is most sinful in God's sight. You may know which is of
greater horror to yourself, but it may be that the "darling sin" you
cherish in secret, or the "weakness" of your life may be regarded by the
Divine as of great culpability as well as the "horrible sin" you so much
deplore and feel you must condemn so bitterly in another.