CHAPTER XV

THE CHURCH AS AN INSTITUTION--PROTESTANTISM

The rise of Protestantism was the consequence of many factors which

temporarily combined and worked in the same direction. There are those

who maintain that it was an unhappy accident, which threw back the

wheels of progress some hundreds of years. But those who bewail the

division of the Christian Church forget that division is a sign of

incompatible tendencies within a body not flexible enough to contain

them. Strife is irrational only when we cease to be realists. The

appearance of Protestantism in the sixteenth century is only one

instance among many of the inadequacy of any one institution to

comprehend the life of its time. Were we to call the roll of the

heresies of the past, the names which would appear upon the list would

be far more numerous than popular history records. Just because

Christians believed that they possessed a final truth they were

intolerant and persecuting. The natural desire of an institution to

maintain itself and its interests intact added its force to this

unfortunate characteristic. But the tragedy of the situation was, that

this final truth could not prove itself by an appeal to experience and

reason. It had, therefore, to resort to violence. The logic of

revelation is the logic of the _auto da fe_. The logic of science is

the logic of tested {199} fact. Science can have hope of agreement;

theological religion has no right to such a hope.

Protestantism had its ethical, political, economic and doctrinal sides.

It was not merely a religious movement. Had it been so, it might more

readily have run its course as a reform movement within the

institutional life of the time. Had the Northern nations possessed

greater power in the councils of the Church, it is just possible that

the change would have been brought about without the occurrence of an

open rupture. But the Church was too centralized and too rich to

escape conflict with the growing nationalism. For our present purpose,

however, this larger social setting of Protestantism is not important.

What we wish to study is the religious tendencies covered by this term.

What advance did they contain? What was the weakness of the movement?

The setting of Protestantism was entirely supernaturalistic. So far as

the fundamental doctrinal assumptions are concerned, there is

practically no difference between Catholic and Protestant.

Protestantism represented a reform, and not a revolution. Or, to put

it more deeply, human nature is such that the real revolutions take

centuries of growth and come like the thief in the night. The modern

scientific view of the world is revolutionary in the philosophical and

true sense of the term; while the sharp sectarian conflict is only a

battle over secondary things. Since it has so commonly been assumed

that the Protestant reformation represented a decisive break with the

outlook of the Middle Ages and somehow marked a milestone in man's

intellectual progress, it may be worth while to consider whether such

really was the case. A disinterested study {200} of the reformation

must, I feel sure, convince the student that the crisis in the Church

was concerned more with matters of theological doctrine and church

polity than with the ideas underlying Christianity. It brought no

essential change in the inherited and firmly entrenched tale of the

past. The puritan poet, Milton, sings of "man's first disobedience" in

much the way that St. Augustine would have done. The weapons of the

great advance had not yet been forged. We are the ones who will be

called upon to face the vision of the New Spiritual World and to be

faithful to its demands upon our loyalty and integrity. "The defection

of the Protestants from the Roman Catholic Church," writes Professor

Robinson, "is not connected with any decisive intellectual revision.

Such ardent emphasis has been constantly placed upon the differences

between Protestantism and Catholicism by representatives of both

parties that the close intellectual resemblance of the two systems,

indeed their identity in nine parts out of ten, has tended to escape

us. The early Protestants, of course, accepted, as did the Catholics,

the whole patristic outlook on the world; their historical perspective

was similar, their notions of the origin of man, of the Bible, with its

types, prophecies and miracles, of heaven and hell, of demons and

angels, are all identical.... Early Protestantism is, from an

intellectual standpoint, essentially a phase of mediaeval history."

But when we look at Protestantism as a social and religious movement

rather than an intellectual movement, we see that it stood for certain

relatively new emphases which did indicate a breaking loose from

mediaevalism. Many sincere men felt the need for a deeper, more

personal assurance of salvation than that {201} offered by the

traditional, substantial sacraments of the Church. Religion seemed to

them a more personal affair than it had overtly come to be. By means

of an act of faith, the individual hoped to secure a new relation to

God in which his sins were forgiven and salvation attained. Salvation

thus became a more internal act than it had been, and particularly one

in which the ecclesiastical institution played a far less important

part. The new tendency emphasized the individual and personal as

against the institutional and formal. Catholicism had inherited too

much ritualistic and magical trapping to harmonize completely with the

keen ethical sense of the younger and simpler people who were growing

to adulthood.

A new movement is on the defensive and, when too completely estranged

from the institutions of which it is a reform, almost inevitably tends

to be narrow and intense. Now Protestantism was essentially an

emphasis on the soul's salvation by meeting certain requirements of a

doctrinal and ethical type, and so it tended to drop those functions

and relations which the Mediaeval Church included within its scope. It

is this clear-cut intensification of one factor and the exclusion of

others which we must bear in mind when we compare the early Protestant

sects with the Catholic Church of the Middle Ages.

Deep religious fervor easily leads to narrowness, especially when the

spiritual values regarded as essential are subjective and rather

formal. Because confessional Protestantism was as other-worldly as the

Mediaeval Church, it cut itself loose from aspects of life which might

otherwise have mellowed it and saved it from formalism and hardness.

We may laugh with {202} Swift at the freaks of Jack, at his dourness

and savagery, his strained interpretation of the scriptures and his

lack of social tact, but we must, if we would be just, always bear in

mind the outlook which Jack had inherited.

The Protestant of to-day does not usually realize how different the

Protestantism of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was from that

which he sees around him. Protestantism has mellowed and absorbed

values and interests which it would once have repudiated as irrelevant

to the tremendous drama of salvation. Take mediaeval Catholicism, with

its ideal of a Church-directed society, its doctrines of sin and

redemption, its belief in another world overshadowing this one, its

strain of asceticism, and remove the sacramental power of the Church,

and you have early Protestantism before you. Instead of fleeing the

world and its temptations, the Christian was ordered to live in it like

a sentinel on his guard. He was not to set his heart on creaturely

comforts nor love the things and interests of this life overmuch, but

rather to trample them underfoot while gazing upwards. No wonder that

the early Protestants were a stern people; they were a community of

secular monks. They had the joy of union with God and assured

redemption from sin, but this world was not their true home. Whereas

the Mediaeval Church had tempered the asceticism of historical

Christianity by the distinction between what was imposed upon clergy

and what was demanded of the laity, Protestantism was unable to

continue this distinction because all believers were priests. All had

to come up to the same high standard or risk damnation. This

exaltation has in large measure departed from Protestantism, and we who

{203} have grown into a mellower idea of salvation are inclined to

judge this set of ideals as narrow and even morbid. We forget that

puritanism was the expression of an ascetic religious view of the world.

It was in the sphere of church government that Protestantism made its

great changes by attempting to return to the polity of the early

associational form of Christianity. The more radical forms of

Protestantism, especially, inaugurated a movement in the direction of

what we now call democracy. There can be little doubt, in fact, that

these waves of religious individualism assisted the growth of

democratic and republican forms of government. This influence was

unplanned and relatively accidental because religious individualism was

more concerned with the right to worship according to the dictates of

conscience than with political rights. But man is a psychological

whole, and so a reform along one line is bound to affect other phases

of life.

As we have already pointed out, the alterations introduced on the

theological side were by no means revolutionary from an intellectual

standpoint. And yet the spirit and mood of religion was deeply

altered. The process of salvation was differently conceived, and this

led to the thought of a more direct relation between man and God than

had been admitted in the older Church. God was believed to have

guaranteed redemption to those who had faith in Jesus Christ as the

redeemer. This tenet led to an emphasis on the bible and on personal

experience. It was through a study of the bible that men were led to

this personal faith, and the bible was accordingly conceived as the

representative of God upon earth. What wonder that it was {204}

substituted for the Church and tradition as an infallible and

unchanging authority! The logic of the movement is clear. It has been

pointed out by one scholar that Protestantism introduced the doctrine

of infallibility before the Roman Catholic Church did. Calvinism

selected the Augustinian dogmas of election and original sin as its

foundation, and used them in such a way as to become a fighting church,

a congregation of the elect, fearless and self-reliant.

Bibliolatry soon flourished, and sects sprang up on every hand, ready

to suffer persecution for their particular interpretation of passages.

Theology became a series of fanatically held dogmas supported by

copious quotations. And the intellectual atmosphere within which these

dogmatic theories arose was of the most conventional and limited sort.

Broadness of outlook upon life was the exception rather than the rule.

The general assumption of the Christian scheme of the world remained

unchallenged, while the bitterest disputes broke out in regard to

points which seem to the educated man of to-day quite unimportant.

Such a course of events was to be expected, and could not have been

prevented. Perhaps it did more good than harm, because it encouraged

independence on the part of the masses. Its only cure was not

authority but education. And the world was not yet ready for universal

education. At certain periods, a tremendous waste of mental and moral

energy is simply inevitable: men cannot help going around and around in

the same circle of ideas in the most pathetically earnest fashion. The

conditions of progress are not always ready. Take the knowledge of the

clergy. It was confined to the classics, the patristics, to massive

tomes of theology, to {205} the bible in its Hebrew and Greek original.

It was not from these fields that enlightenment was to come. The truth

is, that Protestantism was slowly modified and mellowed, almost in

spite of itself, by the pervasive influence of the great world

civilization that grew up around it and to which it was more

susceptible than was the reorganized Catholic Church. Let us look at

this point more closely.

The reformation was an effect as much as a cause. The nations were

coming to their own in the midst of a more complex social life full of

human interests and values. The Confessional Churches which sprang up

were unable to establish themselves securely enough to dominate the

civil powers. The consequence was, that secular civilization was

released from the sway of religion and its supernaturalism.

Government, science, art, industry, and literature flourished in a

freedom they had seldom before experienced. The disorganization of

religious institutions enabled many tendencies, hitherto kept in the

background of men's consciousness, to push to the front and reveal

their power over the human soul. Do we not know that many great

mediaeval doctors had to fight against their love of literature and art?

Protestantism may be said to have been an unintentional cause of the

modern world.

Protestantism broke up into an array of sects and tendencies as it fell

upon the prism of human temperament. Radical sects appeared, like the

Independents, the Quakers, the Baptists, the Pietists, and the

Congregationalists. These were radical in a social way rather than in

an intellectual way. They were subjective variations of the inherited

motives. Largely, they represented a revolt against authoritism, and

{206} emphasized the inner light or a very mild appeal to reason. Yet

we must call them sects, just because they had much the same spirit and

assumptions, and exaggerated what must be regarded as slight

differences. Still their very number gave a milder direction to

religion and made the idea of toleration more natural. There was

safety in numbers. On the intellectual side, the Unitarian movement

deserves attention for its aid in the dethronement of the old dogmatic

structure. Alongside of these more subjective and emotional offshoots

of Protestantism arose philosophical idealism to add a touch of vague

pantheism and a flavor of kindly mysticism. In short, the confessional

type of Protestantism mellowed under the influence of a more rational

social organization with its gentler life. Reason was gaining in

concreteness and power, and human values were gaining in

attractiveness. The Old Testament gradually gave way to the synoptic

gospels of the New, while asceticism dropped away like a mantle. I,

myself, well remember when religion was largely a matter of taboos on

the moral side. "Thou shalt not" outbalanced by far the suggestion of

concrete lines of positive endeavor. Such spiritualism was passive and

suspicious rather than active and creative. During the last thirty

years, Protestantism has passed insensibly into a gentle religion of

the spirit, sentimentally inclined toward life and permeated with

popular notions of science and philosophy. The sermon of the Puritan

concerned itself with the two dispensations; the sermon of the modern

minister is full of quotations from the poets and reveals the growing

influence of the social sciences. The negative note is hardly audible.

This {207} world and its spiritual problems occupies the focus of

attention.

Modern Protestantism is not over certain of its creed. In fact, so

uncertain is it of the doctrines it wishes to champion that it much

prefers to discuss human problems, and to expend its enthusiasm in the

advance of a gentle code of ethics attached to the teaching of Jesus of

Nazareth. In a very real sense, this attitude is to its credit, for it

is positive and genuinely spiritual. Moreover, it bears witness to a

consciousness of the decay of the supernaturalistic perspective which

dominated and misled the world for so many centuries. The spirit and

knowledge of the present age has undermined the traditional beliefs,

and the average protestant is too well educated and too much in touch

with current movements to be unaware of this situation. He is not

certain whither he is being led nor does he so very much care; he is

content to drift with the tide of human development, assured that the

world is becoming better and broader in its purposes and possibilities.

Creed and dogma are dropping into the background and will soon be

discarded, while the spiritual values which grow out of, and express,

human nature and life are steadily forging to the front.

The church as an institution is only one among many. And it must

further be remembered that the life of society reaches beyond

institutions, much as the life of an organism is greater than the

habits and structure which it uses. Religious institutions did not

create the modern world with its gigantic advances in commerce, its

acute applications of science, its subtle art, its daring adventures in

living, its bold philosophies, its high {208} level of education, its

experiments in new social forms. They have had their share in the

work, no doubt; but they have been acted upon even more than they have

acted. Because of its lack of internal unity and its antagonism to

authority, Protestantism could offer no effective barrier to the growth

of the new outlook. Often suspicious, it yet fought in the open. The

trial of strength went against it ultimately because its foundation was

inadequate. Myth cannot fight against science and hope to win. The

verdict of the hard-fought contest is becoming evident to both winner

and loser. Let us hope that the loser will take his defeat manfully

and gradually adapt himself to the New World that is dawning. The

Protestant Churches may then become groups of voluntary associations

filled with high spiritual purpose and ministering to the growth of a

finer social and economic life. The main necessity is to find a

function that is real and vital in the judgment and conscience of the

time.

It is undeniable that the various churches will long play a beneficent

role in the social economy, but the question may well be asked whether

this role would not be more significant and sanely creative if the

hampering traditions and beliefs of the past were shaken off. For

these traditions are the shelter of interpretations and social habits

which are ill-adapted to the needs of the present. They slow down the

energy of institutions and cloud their vision. They lead the sincerest

of people to use tools which have lost edge. For instance, is not

civic and moral education far more effective than melodramatic revivals

which stir people's emotions and leave them without chart and compass

before the problems of their every-day life? The church must {209}

learn prevention; it must go to school to the social and mental

sciences. Only so will it conquer that dilettantism which accompanies

the absence of methodical intelligence.

But the churches have the right to respond that they are not the only

sinners in this regard. Institutions of all kinds display the same

tendency to retardation, to conservatism, to waste of energy, the

beliefs and habits of the past clinging heavily about them as

impedimenta. It is seldom that a new life wells up quickly enough

within them to break this inertia. Perhaps all that the younger

generation has the right to ask is a spirit of tolerance and even

respect for all loyalties which attach themselves to things of good

repute, and a more catholic admission of all human values into the

class of spiritual things. The scientist is working for things of the

spirit, and so is the artist, and so is the social reformer, and so is

the educator, and so is the day-laborer who does his work for the sake

of some dear one.

The sea of faith of which Matthew Arnold sang is indeed at its ebb; but

a new sea of faith is welling up in the human soul, faith in humanity,

in this life here and now, a faith in common things and common people,

a faith in noble things and their gifted creators, a faith founded in

sympathy and in mental integrity and rooted in the actualities of life.

It is a faith grounded on the high will to assimilate and carry further

the spiritual values which the human race has slowly achieved in its

travail of the centuries. Not to relinquish but to surpass, not to

deny but to transform: thus will the new day be won. Let the spiritual

forces which have grown up around religion, industry, science,

philosophy, {210} citizenship and art fall to with a will, to bring

some fuller measure of the long-dreamed-of Kingdom upon this earth,

which has been and forever will be man's sole home.

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The Next Step in Religion: An Essay toward the Coming Renaissance · 第 15 / 16 章