responsible population of America to limitations in food and drink
that the needs of the Allies should be met and the national resources
conserved. Doubtless other nations in the world-struggle have made
larger sacrifices and endured far severer privations; but the
impressive quality of what America has done is that it has been so
largely self-imposed, a voluntary sacrifice, in which suggestion
rather than compulsion has been the task of its leaders. Strikingly
impressive, also, has been the outpouring of wealth and effort to
relieve human suffering through the Red Cross and kindred agencies,
not only for the alleviation of the miseries of our own sons, but of
the martyred population of Belgium, of France, of Poland and of Syria.
No village has been too small, no community too remote or too rural,
to have a share in this altruistic endeavor. Its spirit is in a true
sense that of religion. More openly and professedly religious has been
the marvelous work of the Young Men's Christian Association and of the
Knights of Columbus. No previous war has seen anything comparable in
extent of effort or scope of plan. The aim, and to a great extent the
accomplishment, has been to cast Christian sympathy and brotherly
helpfulness around the soldier and sailor in every camp at home and
abroad, in the trenches, the hospitals, the battleships, the
transports, and in the cities where his furlough is spent and his
ideals so easily forgotten. These agencies have not labored for our
own sons alone, but for those of France and Italy also. Even more
impressive than the vast sums of money contributed from all over the
United States for this cause have been the numbers and the quality of
the men and women who have given themselves freely and in Christian
consecration to this service. The Young Men's Christian Association
and the Knights of Columbus have been in truth the right arm of
American Christianity stretched out to shelter, to hearten and to aid.
They have been the agents of the churches in their ministry. Without
them the contribution of organized American Christianity would have
been relatively ineffective. Through them that Christianity has
exhibited itself in practical and achieving power as never before.
The outstanding feature of these conspicuous manifestations of
American religious life is that they have been absolutely undogmatic.
Their type of Christianity has been broadly inclusive of what may be
called universally accepted doctrine. Chaplains from most various
denominational antecedents have labored together in a spirit of
Christian comradeship, bearing only the sign of the cross. The
workers, ministerial and lay, recruited by the Young Men's Christian
Association have been drawn from all shades of American Evangelicalism
and have wrought not only harmoniously one with another, but with the
Knights of Columbus and with the representatives of Jewish faith. In
common efforts to reach common needs, differences which loomed large
at home have been laid aside. The requirements and experiences of our
soldiers and sailors have been elemental, and these agencies have
sought to meet them with a simple, earnest, uncontroversial
Gospel,--the common denominator, if it may so be called, of our
American Christianity. They have presented God, sin, salvation, faith
in Christ, purity of life, brotherly helpfulness; and to this
presentation the young manhood of our armies and navies has been quick
to respond. These young men have cared little as to the particular
denominational label which these messengers may have worn at home.
Spoken with manliness, sincerity and sympathy, the message has won
their hearts.
These experiences have inevitably raised the question more
insistently, which had already before the war been sounded
increasingly loudly in our home churches, whether the divided state of
American Christianity is to continue. It has long been deplored. Can
it not be in a measure abated? A disposition to believe that it can is
increasingly evident. The enlarging support given to the Federal
Council of the Churches of Christ since the beginning of the war is
significant of a growing conviction that at least a larger federal
cooperation is not merely desirable but feasible. The much-divided
Lutheran body has taken steps which promise its union in one fold. The
last General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of the United States
has empowered a committee to issue a call for a Council to meet before
the close of the present year by which practical action may be
initiated looking towards the organic union of all American
Evangelical Christianity. The Protestant Episcopal Church of the
United States still urges its ambitious and remote plan of a World
Conference on Faith and Order, aiming at a general reunion of
Christendom; though in this case the war seems to have delayed rather
than furthered the project. In the local field, the scarcity of fuel
during the recent winter led to hundreds of instances of temporary
combinations of congregations representative of different
denominations throughout the northern portion of the United States.
Not only has no evil been the consequence, but better acquaintance and
larger Christian sympathy have resulted. In some places, as in New
Brunswick, N. J., these temporary unions have led to efforts to make
these combinations permanent. It is evident that the possibility of a
larger unity is being discussed as never before, and in a spirit which
more than at any previous time tends to emphasize the great truths in
which Christians are agreed and to minimize their differences.
Will anything permanently effective come out of this widely diffused
desire? Shall we be satisfied with the remarkable exhibitions of
Christian cooperation in our army and navy, shall we entertain a pious
wish that something similar may be achieved at home, and will the end
of the war find us, nevertheless, in our present divided state? The
answer will depend on the sacrificial willingness of our American
Christianity. Is it ready to pay the cost? That is a far-reaching
question any answer to which is at present impossible, for the
difficulties in the path of a larger union are enormous. Such a
greater unity can be achieved only as several barriers of great
strength are overthrown.
One such barrier is the inertia of local organizations. Few American
communities are not confessedly overchurched, as far as the Protestant
population is concerned. The spectacle of eight or ten relatively
feeble churches ministering to needs which two or three larger bodies
could much more effectively meet is one exhibited in hundreds of
communities. Yet effective consolidation is opposed by serious
obstacles. Long custom, ancient disputes, denominational loyalties,
keep these relatively feeble bodies asunder. These prejudices are hard
to overcome. "Our fathers worshipped in this mountain," is a feeling
not peculiar to Samaria. Much of this local loyalty is not without its
commendable qualities. It is bound up with traditions of parental
piety, of devotion to a particular house of worship and to a
congregation of believers in which one has grown up in the Christian
life. These feelings are very real. Yet it is only as the advantages
of a larger local unity become evident that our churches can rise to a
greater consolidation and more effectively meet the local situation.
Only the larger good can drive out the lesser goods.
A further barrier, and one of no inconsiderable magnitude, which
renders local union difficult is that our local churches are parts of
large organic wholes for the advancement of the Kingdom of God at home
and abroad. By their gifts, their sons and daughters and their
prayers, the missionary societies are supported, by which the
outreaching work of the Kingdom of Christ is carried forward. These
societies are now denominational. If two local churches are to become
one, where will their joint contributions go? One has aided one group
of missionary societies hitherto, the other another. Shall the new
union divide its gifts? If it does, will they be as extensive or the
interest as great as formerly? These are practical questions for the
missionary societies. The only final solution of such a situation
would seem to be an extensive consolidation of the missionary
societies themselves, so that they might become more representative of
American Christianity, at least of American Evangelical Christianity,
as a whole, rather than simply the organs of particular denominations.
A third barrier of difficulty barring the pathway of local
consolidation is that of ministerial and ecclesiastical
responsibility. Each of the various denominations now has its definite
method of entrance on its ministry, and of responsibility for the
character and standing of those in its pastorates. Each holds itself
bound to aid its feebler churches in their pecuniary necessities. If a
new congregation results from the union of two or more existing bodies
representative of different denominations, where is the test of
ministerial fitness, and the guarantee of continued ministerial
standing to be found, and who is to aid such a church if financially
feeble? These are the problems which are often raised by the so-called
"community church." Of course these difficulties are often met by the
united organization attaching itself to the denomination originally
represented by one of its component parts; but this solution, though
effective, makes so large demands on Christian self-denial as often to
be impracticable in the present still comparatively feebly developed
desire for unity.
A still further barrier to unity, both on the local field and on the
larger national scale, is the fact, often overlooked, that the
separations of American Christianity are really due quite as much to
differences of taste as to divergencies of doctrines or of polity.
There is an Episcopal, a Presbyterian or a Methodist way of doing
things that really differentiates these great families of believers
quite as fully as their more generally acknowledged divergencies. They
view the Christian life, they look upon worship, they express their
deeper feelings, in unlike ways. The variety is not so much a
diversity of belief as a contrast of temperaments. Being so, it is not
susceptible to argument, or to adjustment by conventions or creedal
agreements. It is to be met, if met at all, by the increasing spirit
of democracy, which the war has done so much to foster. In proportion
as the fundamental Christian democracy of America becomes a real
consciousness these temperamental unlikenesses will tend to be
subordinated to a larger unity of spirit. They will continue. Men are
not all made in the same mould. But, it may be believed that they may
be overcome by a growing recognition of unity in variety.
Moreover, in spite of an increasing longing that the multitudinous
subdivisions of American Christianity be merged in a larger whole,
much tenacious holding of peculiar denominational tenets will have to
be overcome. The simplicity of the great truths which Christians hold
in common will need to be more fully realized. Most American
Evangelical denominations are now willing freely to admit that the
essential verities of Christianity are held by their associated
communions, and that a true Christian life is possible in each of
them. The evident working of the spirit of God makes a denial
impossible. But while each denomination is thus willing to recognize a
real, if grudgingly admitted, sisterhood as the share of the others,
each regards its peculiarities of belief or practice as of extreme
importance, if not to the being, at least to the well-being of the
church, so that effective inter-communion seems impossible. An
interesting illustration of this spirit has recently been shown in a
discussion involving a communion which professes, one cannot doubt
with sincerity, a desire for a reunion of Christendom. A proposition
was made to it by a number of representatives of other communions,
urging that the unity of American Christianity be illustrated by joint
ordinations of chaplains for service with the army and navy. That
proposal, which involved no question of ministerial status in the home
churches, was declined by its highest authorities. It is not
conceivable that those who thus refused it believed that chaplains
went forth to their arduous task in the name of Christ from other
communions without the blessing of God; but such differences of
apprehension as may still coexist with obedience to the one Master are
evidently yet deemed too great to permit mutual Christian
authorization for service. Doubtless many similar instances could be
found, but as long as they characterize American Christianity at all
they reveal the persistence of a spirit which exalts denominational
peculiarities above the full recognition of common Christian
discipleship.
These barriers have been thus frankly stated because they are very
real, and while the impulse toward Christian unity now flows in
increasing strength from the experiences of the great war, the
movement in that direction must acquire far greater momentum before
its work can be accomplished. Christian unity was never so fully
before the thought of the American churches as now. Never were so many
sincerely desirous of it. Never was its need so obvious as in these
days when the church faces the tremendous problem of the
reconstruction on a Christian basis of a shattered social order. It is
a task which demands all the forces of an undivided Christianity. Yet
desirable as the goal of unity is, it will never be reached save
through the strenuous cooperant effort of all who long for it. That
effort must be greater than any heretofore made. It must be patient
and persistent and in full faith that the Master's prayer for his
disciples demands their utmost endeavor.
Three steps are certainly needful for effective progress towards a
larger unity:
There must be a clearer recognition of the things in the Christian
faith which are of vital significance. The really great truths must be
seen in their proper perspective. The simplicity of the Gospel must be
increasingly recognized. We have too often elevated relatively
subordinate convictions to an equality with the fundamentals of the
faith. In this clearer perception of proportions the experiences of
the religious work of the war is greatly aiding. We are seeing that in
the Christian life we need not so many things as much.
No less necessary is it that a spirit ready to sacrifice the
important, but relatively subordinate, be developed. No denomination
is called upon to sacrifice alone. If unity is to be achieved, each
must feel a willingness to subordinate that which though precious by
custom or antiquity or cherished possession is yet divisive.
Even more imperative is it that American religious bodies know each
other better. Existing side by side, laboring in the same communities,
it is amazing how little real comprehension of each other's spiritual
life now exists. In mutual acquaintance by common association,
wherever such intercourse can be brought about, lies the corrective of
much present misunderstanding that separates us. All that aids a
common acquaintance is an aid to ultimate unity.
The consideration just mentioned makes it probable that the most
promising present step is in the direction of federal cooperation.
Religious bodies that are far from willing to sink their present
differences may yet work in harmony, and by working together increase
that mutual understanding and thereby confidence in each other's
Christian spirit which is so essential a preliminary to unity. That is
what makes the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ and similar
movements eminently worthy of support. They are not ends in
themselves. They are means of utmost significance to a larger end.
The war is showing a vision of our need and of the goal of our effort.
That the road to a larger and more effective unity of the religious
forces of America is full of difficulties is no reason why a Christian
man should hesitate to tread it. It is as true now as when the Master
said it, that "with God all things are possible."
X
THE RELIGIOUS BASIS OF WORLD
RE-ORGANIZATION[1]
E. HERSHEY SNEATH
When we reflect upon the situation of the race today, with the leading
nations in the throes of a war of unparalleled dimensions and
destructiveness, we are appalled at the impotency of those forces that
heretofore have tended toward world-organization. Time was when
international treaties and laws seemed to have at least a semblance of
inhibiting sanctity, but in recent years they are regarded in certain
quarters as mere "scraps of paper," and the supposed "rights" of
nations are treated with scorn and contempt. The black flag of piracy,
hitherto regarded as the symbol of international outlawry, floats on
the high seas, and the assassination of neutrals and noncombatants is
regarded by some as a national virtue. For centuries humane
considerations obtained with reference to prisoners of war and to
partially conquered nations. Now, certain nations have substituted for
such humanitarianism, outrage, brutality and enforced slavery. In
short, international pact and law seem to have broken down. Their
restraints have yielded to the unbridled force of national greed and
lust for power.
Again, in the past, the moral imperatives, independent of political
treaties and laws, have exercised a wholesome constraining and
restraining influence on the relations of different peoples, and have
made for fraternal world-organization. Man is constitutionally a moral
being, and is, to a certain extent, governed by sentiments of justice
and benevolence. These moral elements of our nature have led us to
have regard for man as man, rather than for men as members of
particular nations and races. Hence, in our interaction there has been
a tendency to recognize and respect what we have been wont to call
human rights as growing out of the essential constitution of
personality. The same tendency has characterized our attitude toward
men organized under political government. But alas! these fundamental
moral claims are now flagrantly violated. The morally right has, with
some nations, degenerated into the right of might.
Again, in the past, art has made for the unification of the race. The
aesthetic consciousness is on the side of harmony. It hates chaos and
loves order. It functions in the social and political spheres and
tends toward unity rather than anarchy--toward peace rather than war.
"Art binds together and unites the members of the nation; nay, all the
members of a sphere of civilization; all those who have the same faith
and the same ideals. Opinions and interests differ and produce
discord; art presents in sensuous symbols the ideals which are
cherished by all, and so arouses the feeling that all are, in the last
analysis, of the same mind, that all recognize and adore the same
ultimate and highest things."[2] When we deal with the ideal we are
dealing with the universal. Thus art transcends both individualism and
nationalism. It contributes toward international good will. But how
ineffective it has proven along these lines during the last few tragic
years. One of the first great outrages of the war was the wanton
bombardment of the beautiful Rheims cathedral. The world protested
against this iconoclasm, but it continued. Vandalism and robbing
nations of their art treasures are features of _Kultur_; so the
breach between nations widens despite the supposed unifying power of
art. The nation of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn and Wagner
grips with mailed fist the throat of the nation of Michelangelo,
Titian, Da Vinci, Correggio and Raphael, and tries to strangle the
nation of David, Delacroix and Millet. The nation of Lessing, Goethe
and Schiller schools its children in a gospel of hate toward the
nation of Shakespeare and Milton and a long line of glorious poets
from Chaucer to Browning. The refining and organizing influences of
art have given way to the brutal instincts of malevolence and greed,
and a lofty idealism that bound the nations together in a golden chain
of beauty finds the precious chain rudely broken. Art, like the other
binding forces, has apparently failed in its work of unification.
Another force that has been operative in world-organization is
religion, and especially the Christian religion. With its proclamation
of the universal fatherhood of God and brotherhood of man; with the
law of love as its law of social interaction; with its "Go ye into all
the world and preach my gospel"--a gospel of universal membership in a
kingdom of supreme values--in which every member is on a moral
equality with his neighbor--the Christian religion has been promotive
of a spirit of good will among men, and of harmony among the nations.
But what is the case today? A nominally Christian nation joins bloody
hands with a traditionally murderous nation of Mohammedan faith in
wholesale assassination of one of the most ancient Christian peoples,
and attempts to incite the Moslem world to warfare against nations of
Christian faith, merely to enhance her own selfish interests.
Furthermore, in the present crisis we find Christian nation arrayed
against Christian nation: Protestant against Protestant; Catholic
against Catholic; Protestant and Catholic united against Protestant
and Catholic. Peoples in whose ears for centuries have rung the glad
tidings of "peace on earth, good will toward men" are today gripping
one another in mortal combat. The star of the East that, according to
the story, guided the Wise Men to the manger of the Prince of Peace
seems to have lost its radiance and directing power. Never since the
star is said to have shone were men apparently farther from beating
their swords into plow-shares and their spears into pruning hooks. The
unifying power of him whose life illustrated even better than his
parable of the Good Samaritan the highest law of human relationship is
not in evidence today. Where is the power of that cross, the vision of
which carried with it still another vision of a world attracted to,
and unified by, the power of self-sacrificing love--"And I, if I be
lifted up, will draw all men unto me"? Is the power of sacrificial
love drawing the hearts of men and of nations together in the
fellowship of Jesus Christ? Are not the dominant forces operating
today centrifugal rather than centripetal? It is not the skeptic, or
cynic, or pessimist, who asks these questions. They are the questions
of thousands of earnest men and women who face the supreme crisis of
human history. They bring home to us the fact that religion, even in
its highest form, like international law, like morality, like art,
however promotive of human brotherhood it has been, has failed in this
most crucial test to prevent the dreadful work of the destructive
forces of mankind. This is a fact that the sincere believer in
religion must face whether he wants to or not.
In view of the failure of all of these more or less harmonizing and
synthesizing forces to prevent such a gigantic war, what are we to say
about world-organization after the conflict? Nations must live and
sustain relations to one another. They must establish some _modus
vivendi_, and it must be founded on justice. The necessity of
righteousness and good will in international relations has been made
more apparent than ever by this most tragic conflict. And the question
arises: What organized forces are to establish such righteousness and
good will among the nations? We must depend upon the very same forces
that have been operative in the past; that is, upon international law,
morality, art and religion, but they must be made more effective. How
this may be done in the case of religion it is the aim of this paper
to try to explain.
In the first place, if religion is to become powerfully effective in
this direction, it must take a really ethical view of God. He must be
regarded as essentially moral in his constitution; as ruling in
absolute righteousness, and a being whose ultimate aim with reference
to men and the world is the realization of a new heaven and a new
earth wherein righteousness is to dwell. Much as believers in religion
have said on this subject, the conceptions of many as expressed in
belief and conduct have contradicted their words. When the nation of
Martin Luther, including not merely the docile masses, but the
spiritually enslaved clergy and servile university professors,[3]
among whom may be numbered such religious leaders as Harnack, can
accept and pray for the success of the war program of a ruler who
regards himself to be the vicegerent of the Almighty, cooperating with
him in a scientifically organized movement for the triumph of the most
diabolical forces the human race has ever witnessed--approving the
vices of hell as though they were the virtues of heaven--this
nominally Christian nation is either guilty of awful blasphemy or it
has lost its vision of an ethical God. Such a conception of the Deity
proves divisive rather than unifying. It recognizes merely a partisan
tribal Deity who cooperates with a people to realize its own ends,
however unworthy and debasing those ends may be. Its influence is
promotive of national selfishness, and makes against a brotherhood of
nations. Professor Leuba speaks of the utilitarian ends for which men
believe in God--making him hardly more than a meat purveyor;[4] but
the German conception of God is much crasser than this.[5] "_Gott
mit uns_" is a God that is asked and believed to cooperate in the
most damnable atrocities the human mind ever conceived in order to
further low national aims.