There are a great many familiar sayings, that are in the mouths of nearly
everybody, which are perfect nonsense, and one of these many sayings is
the one we have chosen for the subject of this article. One would imagine
that falsehood became sacred by repetition, judging from the way that
certain untruths live in the literature and language of mankind. Many a
holy text is only holy by being with what is true, as we pay respect to
many a man whom we know to be unworthy because he is related to
respectable people.
The saying that “whatever is is right,” is a dogma of the philosophy of
indifference. To anyone who works for the right and suffers wrong, such a
dogma is impertinent. Is the deed that sinks a man to the realm of brutes,
and the deed that lifts him to heights where virtue in her high estate
dwells alone, both right? The worst light for a human soul is that light
in which a bad act looks like a good one. We cannot afford to trifle with
things pure and true. To succeed grandly in life we must side with what is
right.
There is a class of people that hold a don’t-care philosophy. These people
don’t care what they say or do; they don’t care what takes place in the
world or what the world suffers or endures. The tent in which they dwell
is pitched above the plane of human wants and sufferings. They look from
their serene abode upon the troubled elements below, and, in contemplation
of what is beneath them, pronounce with pious gravity the highest text of
their system of philosophy: “Whatever is is right.”
To those who have never seen the bitter tear start under the infliction of
injury; to those who have never heard the sigh that disappointment and
deception have wrung from a breaking heart; to those who have never
witnessed the sufferings which tyranny imposes upon its victims; to those
who have never felt the miseries which selfishness heaps upon human
beings, this doctrine may seem true; but to those who have beheld the
consequences of evil doing, and felt the hard hand of injustice upon their
lives; to those who have been the victims of deception, and realized the
terrible fate of disappointment; to those who have been trodden upon and
denied the rights of men; to those who have been the slaves of the world’s
cruel masters, how false it is!
We cannot disguise the fact that there is wrong in the world. It haunts
every dwelling-place of man. It follows man to his business, to his work.
It goes with him when he seeks his pleasure. It does not leave him when he
enters his home.
Every harsh word is wrong, every unjust judgment is wrong, every cruel act
is wrong, every deception is wrong, every wicked or impure thought is
wrong. Go where we will we shall meet the ugly face of wrong. On the
street its presence will bring shame into the face; in our dealings with
the world it will come before our eyes in all its hideous reality. Even
when alone we cannot keep this phantom away.
Is it right that a human being should cause another pain and anguish that
will leave their marks on the heart and brow for life? Is it right to make
a man suffer unjustly, to add to misfortune the weight of cruelty? Is it
right to deprive one of honor, of fortune, of life? Is it right to bear
false witness against a brother-man, to abuse a neighbor, to slander and
malign a human soul? Is wrong right?
Go to the garret of the poor wretch where want stares him in the face,
where extortion robs his family of every joy and every comfort, where the
day is made dark from no ray of human love coming into the heart, and the
night darker from the absence of warmth and light. Go to the home rent
asunder by vice and see the broken promises once so fair and bright, now
blushing with shame; hear curses from lips that once spoke in love; see
the skeletons of vows beautiful when breathed by the lips of the holiest
passion on earth, but now hideous in their ruin. Go to the den of
wickedness, to the house of crime supported by lust and greed; look upon
the pictures of wretchedness and sorrow, of sin and guilt painted by the
hand of wrong; behold the wrecked human lives that are floating on the sea
of existence, only drifting until some sudden wave shall overwhelm them
and sink them out of sight, leaving behind a memory that man should
contemplate with pity and which kindness would blot out forever. See the
world in its vice, in its suffering, in its misery, in its tears and its
shame and let your lips say, if they can, that “Whatever is is right.”
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It is necessary to distinguish between the virtue and the vice of
obedience.
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I believe that if God dwelt above the earth in the twelfth century of the
Christian era, and witnessed the cruelty of priests and heard the cries of
their poor victims when their bones were broken upon the rack or their
flesh was burning in the wicked flames, and these priests should have
lifted up their voices to this God and given him the glory of the awful
sacrifice, he would have said to them: You lie; I never commanded one of
my children to murder another. You are no ministers of mine, and your
victims, with their heresies, are a thousand times holier in my sight than
are you with your pious dogmas and holy sacraments.