IT is a common complaint against the Rationalistic school of thought
that they can destroy but cannot construct; that they tear down, but do
not build up; that they are armed only with the axe and with the sword,
and not with the trowel and the mason's line. "We have had enough of
negations," is a common cry; "give us something positive." Much of this
feeling is foolish and unreasonable; the negation of error, where
error is supreme, is necessary before the assertion of truth can become
possible. Before a piece of ground can be sown with wheat, it must be
cleared of the weeds which infest it; before a solid house can be built
in the place of a crumbling ruin, the ancient rubbish must be carried
off, and the rotten walls must be thoroughly pulled down. Destructive
criticism is necessary and wholesome; the heavy battering-ram of science
must thunder against the walls of the churches; the swift arrows of
logic must rain on the black-robed army; the keen lance-points of
irony must pierce through the leather jerkin of superstition. But the
destruction of orthodox Christianity being accomplished, there remains
for the Rationalist much more to do. He has to frame a code which shall
rule in the place of the code of Moses and of Jesus; he has to found
a morality which shall replace the morality of the Bible; he has to
construct an ideal which shall be as attractive as the ideal of the
Churches; he has to proclaim laws which shall supersede revelation: in a
word, he has to build up the religion of humanity.
As the Rationalist looks abroad over the contending armies of faith and
of reason, he gradually recognises the fact that his new religion, if it
is to serve as a bond of union, must stand on stable ground, apart from
the warring hosts. Round the idea of God rages the hottest din of the
battle. The old, popular, and traditional belief is wounded to
the death, and is slowly breathing out its life. The philosophical
subtleties of the metaphysician are beyond the grasp of folk busied
chiefly with common work. The new school of Theists, believers in a
"spiritual personal God," stands on a slippery incline, whereon is
no firm foothold. It simply spreads over the abysses of thought
a sentimental veil of poetical imaginings, and bows down before a
beatified and celestial man, whose image it has sculptured out of the
thought-marble of its sublimest aspirations. If the idea of God be thus
warred over, thus changing, thus uncertain, it is plain that the new
religion cannot find its foundation on this shifting and disputed
ground. While theologians are wrangling about God, plain men are looking
wistfully over the shattered idols to find the ideal to which they
can cling. The new religion, then, studying the varying phases of the
God-idea, seizes on its one permanent element, its idealised resemblance
to man, its embodiment of the highest humanity; and, grasping this
thought, it turns to men and says, "In loving God you are only loving
your own highest selves; in conforming yourselves to the Divine image
you are only conforming yourselves to your own highest ideals; the
unknown God whom you ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you; in
serving your family, your neighbours, your country, you serve this
unknown God; this God is Humanity, the race to which you belong; this is
the veiled God whom all generations have worshipped in heaven, while he
trod the world around them in every human form; this is the only God,
the God who is manifest in the flesh: "--
"There is no God, O son, If thou be none."
The first great constructive effort of the new religion is thus to
transform the idea of God, and to turn all men's aspirations, all men's
hopes, all men's labours, into this channel of devotion to humanity,
that so the practical outcome of the new motive power may be a steady
flow of loving and energetic work for man, work that begins in the
family, and spreads, in ever-widening circles, over the whole race.
This transformation of the central figure necessarily transforms also
the whole idea of religion, which must take its colour from that centre.
Revelation from heaven being no longer possible, its place must be
supplied by study on earth: revealed laws being no longer attainable, it
becomes the duty of the Humanitarian to discover natural laws. This
duty is the more cheering from the manifest failure of revealed laws, as
exemplified in popular Christianity. "Law," in the mouth of the believer
in revelation, means a command issued by God; the "laws of Nature" are
the rules laid down by God, in accordance with which all things move;
they are the behests of the Creator of Nature, the controlling wires of
the mechanism, held by the hand of God. But "law" in the mouth of
the Rationalist means nothing more than the observed and registered
invariable sequence of events. Thus it is said "a stone falls to
the ground in obedience to the law of gravitation." By the "law of
gravitation" the Christian would mean that God had ordered that all
stones _should_ so fall. The Rationalist would simply mean that all
stones _do_ so fall, and that invariable sequence he calls the "law of
gravitation." Obedience to the laws of Nature replaces, in the religion
of Humanity, obedience to the laws of God. As there is no inspired
revelation of these laws the student must carefully and patiently
ascertain them, either by direct observation, or most often, in the
books of those who have devoted their lives to the elucidation of
Nature's code. Scientific books will, in fact, replace the Bible, and by
the study of the laws of health, both physical, moral, and mental, the
Rationalist will ascertain the conditions which surround him to which he
must conform himself if he desires to retain physical, moral, and mental
vigour. This difference in the authority which is obeyed leads naturally
to the difference of morality between the orthodox Christian and the
Rationalist. Christian morality consists of obedience to the will of
God, as revealed in the Bible. The grand difficulty regarding this
obedience is, that the will of Jehovah, as revealed to the Jews at
different times, varies so much from age to age that the most zealous
Christian must fail to obey all the conflicting behests prefaced by a
"Thus saith the Lord." God would, of course, never command any one to do
a thing which was directly wrong, yet God distinctly said: "Thou
shalt not suffer a Witch to live;" and God sanctioned Slavery, and
God commanded Persecution on account of religious convictions: true,
Christians plead that all these laws are obsolete, but what is that but
to acknowledge that revealed morality is obsolete, _i.e._, that it was
never revealed by God at all. For a command to persecute must be either
right or wrong: if right, it is the duty of Christians to obey it,
and to raise once more the stakes of Smithfield for heretics and
unbelievers; if wrong, it can never have come from God at all, and must
be blasphemously attributed to him. In God, Christians tell us there is
no changeableness, neither shadow of turning; then what pleased him in
long past ages would please him still, and what he commanded yesterday
would be right to-day. Thus fatally does revealed morality fail when
tested, and it becomes impossible to know which particular "will of
God" he desires that we should obey. Now, once more, the Rationalist
experiences the advantages of his new motive-power; he has to serve
Humanity, and is unencumbered by the difficulties attendant upon
"pleasing God." Not the pleasure of God, but the benefit of man, is
the basis of his morality. Revealed morality is as a child's garment,
into-which one should try to force the limbs of a full-grown man; it
is the morality of the past stereotyped for the use of today, and is
clumsy, archaic, half-illegible from age. Rational morality, on the
other hand, grows with the growth of those who follow its dictates; its
errors are corrected by wider experience, its omissions are filled up by
the irrefragable arguments of necessity. It is founded upon the needs of
man; his happiness is its sole object; not only his physical happiness,
not only the fulfilment of the desires of the body for ease and comfort,
but the satisfaction also of all the cravings of his intellectual
and moral powers, the love of truth, the love of beauty, the love of
justice. A morality founded on this basis can never be overthrown; one
sure test it affords whereby to decide on the morality or the immorality
of any-given action: "Is it useful to man? does it tend to the promotion
of human happiness?" The will of God is doubtful, and is always
disputable, and therefore it can never form the foundation of a
universal system of morality, a code which shall unite all men in
obedience. A code which shall unite all men must needs be founded on
those human interests which are common to all men. Such a code is the
utilitarian. For man's happiness is on earth, and can be known and
understood; the promotion of that happiness is an intelligible aim;
the test of morality may be applied by every one; it is a system which
everybody can understand, and which the common sense of each must
approve, for by it man lives for man, man labours for man, the efforts
of each are directed to the good of all, and only in the happiness of
the whole can the happiness of each part be perfected and complete.
There is much popular misconception with regard to utilitarianism:
"utility" is supposed to include only those material things which are
useful to the body, and which tend to increase physical comfort. But
utility includes all art; for art cultures the taste and refines the
nature. It thus adds a thousand charms to life, deepens, softens,
purifies human happiness. Utility includes all study, for study-awakens
and trains the intellectual faculties, and therefore increases the
sources of happiness possible to man. Utility includes all science; for
science is man's true providence, foreseeing the dangers that threaten
him, and shielding him against their shock. Science leads man up to
those intellectual heights where to stand awhile and breathe in the
keen, clear air after dwelling in the turbid atmosphere of daily toils
and cares, is as the refreshment of the pure mountain wind to the weary
inhabitant of the crowded city streets.. Utility includes all love and
search of truth; for the discovery of a truth is the keenest pleasure of
which the noblest mind is susceptible. It includes all sublimest virtue;
for self-sacrifice and devotion yield the purest forms-of happiness
to be found on earth. In a word, utility includes everything which is
_useful_ in building up a grander manhood and womanhood, wiser, purer,
truer, tenderer than that we have to-day.
Such is the basis of the morality which is to supersede the supernatural
morality of the Churches; a morality which is: for this life and for
this world, since we have this life, and are in this world; a morality
which seeks to ensure human happiness on this side the grave, instead of
dreaming of it on the other side; a morality which endeavours to carve
solid heavens here, instead of seeing them in distant cloud-lands, white
and soft and beautiful, but still only clouds.
One vast advantage of this humanitarian philosophy is that it endeavours
to train men into unselfishness, instead of following the popular
Christian plan of making self the central thought. Self is appealed to
at every step in the New Testament: if we are bidden to rejoice under
persecution, it is because "great is your reward in heaven;" if urged
to pray, it is because "thy Father, which seeth in secret, himself shall
reward thee openly;" if to be charitable, it is because at the judgment
it will bring a kingdom as the recompense; if to resign home or wealth,
it is because we shall receive "a hundredfold in this present life, and
in the world to come life everlasting;" even the giver of a cup of cold
water "shall in no wise lose his reward." It is one system of bribes,
mingling the thought of personal pain with every effort of human
improvement and human happiness, and thereby directly fostering and
encouraging selfishness and gilding it over with the name of religion
and piety. Humanitarian morality, on the other hand, while utilising the
natural and rightful craving for individual happiness as a motive-power,
endeavours to accustom each to look to, and to labour for, the happiness
of all, making that general happiness the aim of life. Thus it gradually
weakens the selfish tendencies and encourages the social, holding
up ever the noble ideal by the very contemplation of its beauty
transforming its votaries into its likeness. "Vivre pour au-trui," is
the motto of the utilitarian code; and in so living the fullest and
happiest life for self is really attained; so closely drawn are the
bands that bind men together that happiness and unhappiness re-act from
one to another, and as the general standard of happiness rises higher
and higher, the wheels of social life run more and more easily, with
less of friction, less of jar, and therefore with increased comfort to
each individual member. While Christianity developes selfishness by
its continual cry of "Save thyself," Utilitarianism gradually developes
unselfishness by the nobler whisper, "Save others, and in so doing
thou shalt thyself be saved." Delivered from every debasing fear of an
unknowable and inscrutable power, Utilitarianism works with a single
heart and a single eye for the happiness of the race, stamping with
the brand of "wrong" every act the general repetition of which would be
harmful to society, or the tendency of which is injurious, and sealing
as "right" every act which brightens human life, and makes the general
happiness more perfect, and more widely spread. As morality rises higher
and higher, human judgment will grow keener and purer, and in the times
to come probably many an act now approved on all sides will be seen to
be harmful, and will therefore become marked as immoral, while, on the
other hand, acts that are now considered wrong, because "offensive
to God," will be seen to be beneficial to man, and will therefore be
accepted by all as moral. Thus Utilitarian morality can never be a bar
to progress, for it will become higher and nobler as man mounts upwards.
Revealed morality is as a milestone on the road of the world's onward
march: it marks how far the world had travelled when its tables of
law were first set up in its place: as a milestone, it is useful,
interesting, and instructive, and none would desire to destroy it; but
if the milestone be removed from its post as a mark of distance, and be
laid across the road as a barrier which none must overclimb in days to
come, then it becomes necessary for the pioneers of progress to hew
it to pieces that men may go on their way unchecked, and this revealed
morality now lies across the upward path of the world, and must be
broken in pieces with the hammer of logic and the axe of common sense,
so that we may press ever higher up the mountain of progress, whose
summit is hid in everlasting cloud.
And what has constructive Rationalism to say to us, when we stand face
to face with the mighty destroyer of all living things? "Your creed may
do well enough to live by," say-objectors, "but is it good to die by?"
A creed that is good in life must needs be good in death, and never yet
was a hero-life closed by a coward death. What can better smooth the bed
of the dying man than the knowledge that the world is the happier for
his living, that he leaves it better than he found it, that he has
helped to raise and to purify it? What easier pillow to rest the dying
head on than the memory of a useful life? The Rationalist has no fear
lurking around his death-bed; no lurid gleams from a hell on the other
side lighten around him as his breath begins to fail; no angry God
frowns on him from the great white throne; no devil stands beside him
to drag him down into the bottomless pit; quietly, peacefully, happily,
without fear and without dread, he passes out of life. As calmly as the
tired child lies down to sleep in its mother's arms, and passes into
dreamless unconsciousness, so calmly does the Rationalist lie down in
the arms of the mighty mother, and pass into dreamless unconsciousness
on her bosom.
To the Rationalist, the future of the race replaces in thought the
future of the individual; for that he thinks, for that he plans, for
that he labours. A heaven upon earth for those who come after him, such
is his inspiration to effort and to self-devotion. He seeks the smile of
man instead of the smile of God, and finds in the thought of a happier
humanity the spur that Christians seek in the thought of pleasing God.
His hopes for the future spread far and wide before him, but it is a
future to be inherited by his children in this same world in which he
himself lives; freer and fuller life, wider knowledge, deepened and more
polished culture--all these are to be the heritage of the generations
to come, and it is his to make that heritage the richer by every grander
thought and nobler deed that he can do to-day.
Let us place side by side the dogmas of Christianity and the motive
power of the Rationalist, and see which of these two is the gladder
life-moulder of man. Christianity has a God in heaven, all powerful and
all-wise, who in ages gone by made the universe and fore-ordained all
that should happen in time to come; who created man and woman with a
serpent to tempt them, and made for them the opportunity of falling;
who, having made the opportunity, forced them to take it. It is said
that Adam and Eve were free agents, but they were nothing of the kind,
for the lamb was slain from the foundation of the world: the sacrifice
was offered before the sin was committed; and the sacrifice being made,
the sin was its necessary consequence. If Adam had been free, he might
not have sinned, and then there would have been a slain lamb and no
sin for which he could atone; but God, having provided the Saviour,
was obliged to provide the sinner, and therefore he made the tree of
knowledge and sent the tempter to entrap the parents of mankind. They
fell, according to God's predestination, and thus became accursed, and
then the waiting Redeemer was revealed, and "the divine scheme" was
complete. Accursed for a sin in which they had no part, the children of
Adam are born with an evil nature, and being evil they act evilly, and
thereby sink lower and lower; at their feet yawns a bottomless pit, and
the road to it is broad, easy, and pleasant; above their heads shines
a luxurious heaven, and the path is narrow, steep, and rugged. Their
nature--God-given to all--drags them downwards; the Holy Ghost--God
given to some--drags them upwards: immortality is their inheritance, and
"few there be that find" immortal happiness, while "many there be that
go in" at the gate of hell to immortal woe; a severance, bitter beyond
all earthly bitterness of parting, is in store for all, since, at the
great day of judgment, "one shall be taken and the other left," and
there will not be a family some of whose members will not be lost for
ever. Eternal life, to the vast majority, is to mean eternal torment,
and they are to be "salted with fire," burning yet never burnt up,
consuming ever but never consumed. Towards the gaining of heaven,
towards the avoidance of hell, all human effort must be turned. "What
shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own
soul?" All life must be one striving "to enter in at the strait gate,
for many shall seek to enter in and shall not be able;" poverty,
oppression, misery, what matters it? the "light affliction which is but
for a moment worketh a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."
Thus this world is forgotten for the sake of another, crushed out of
sight beneath the overwhelming grandeur of eternity; the spur to human
effort is blunted by the infinitesimal importance of time as compared
with eternity; bad government, bad laws, injustice, tyranny, pauperism,
misery, all these things need not move us, for "we seek a better
country, that is a heavenly;" we are "strangers and pilgrims;" "here we
have no continuing city, but we seek one to come;" "our citizenship is
in heaven," and there also is our home. True, Christians do not carry
out into daily life these phrases and thoughts of their creed, but in
so much as they do not they are the less Christian, and the more
imbued with the spirit of Rationalism. Rationalists they are, the vast
majority, six days in the week, and are only Christians on the Sunday.
To come out of, these old world dreams into Rationalism is like coming
into the open air after a hothouse. Rationalism clears away the terrible
God of orthodoxy, the fall, the serpent, the Saviour, the hell, the
devil. "Work, toil, struggle," it cries to man; "the ills around you
are not the appointment of God, not the effects of his curse; they arise
from your own ignorance, and may all be cleared away by your own study,
and your own effort. Salvation? Yes, you need saviours, but the saviours
must save you from earthly woes and not from the wrath of God; save
yourselves, by thought, by wisdom, by earnestness. Redemption? yes,
you need redeeming, but the redemption you want is from vice, from
ignorance, from poverty, and must be wrought out by human effort.
Prayer? yes, you need praying for, but the prayer you want is work
compelling the result; not crying out for what you desire, but winning
it by labour and by toil. The world stretches wide before you, capable
of paying you a thousandfold for all you do for it. Life is in your
hands, full of all glorious possibilities; throw away your dreams of
heaven, and make heaven here; leave aside visions of the life to come,
and make beautiful the life which is."
Full of hope, full of joy, strong to labour, patient to endure, mighty
to conquer, goes forth the new glad creed into the sad grey Christian
world; at her touch men's faces soften and grow purer, and women's eyes
smile instead of weeping; at last, at last, the heir arises to take
to himself his own, and the negation of the usurped sovereignty of
the popular and traditional God over the world developes into the
affirmation of the rightful monarchy of man.