What is doctrine? Doctrine is spiritual truth, formulated in a
systematic way. It is also, in church matters, a system of truth which
has been believed in, and clung to, by a body of believers constituting
some branch of the catholic Church.
It is a noble and serious office to hand down from generation to
generation the faith and traditions of the Church of God. But this
handing-down must be upright. "You must bind nothing upon your charges,"
says Jeremy Taylor, "but what God hath bound upon you." Conviction is at
the root of the lasting traditions of the Church. Only this--his
conviction--can one man really teach another. If he try to speak
otherwise, he shall have a lolling and unsteady tongue.
No soul is finally held by the indefinite, or the namby-pamby. It begins
to question, Upon what foundation does this phrase, this fine sentiment,
rest? It must stand upon a proposition. This proposition rests either
upon a scientific fact, or upon that which, for want of a more definite
term, we call the religious instinct of man. But a proposition cannot
standalone. It is connected with other propositions, arguments,
conclusions. Hence a system of logic, of philosophy, of expressed
belief, of doctrine, inevitably grows up in a thinking community, a
thinking Church.
The statement of an ecclesiastical system of doctrine may not be the
absolutely true one, nor the final one. Doctrine changes, even as
scientific theories change with fuller information. Doctrine also
expands, with the growth of the human spirit and understanding. To-day,
in one's library, one has a thousand books. They are shelved and
catalogued, for reference, in a special order. But years hence, one's
grandson, who inherits these books, may have ten thousand books. The
aspect of the library is changed. It is filled with new volumes, and new
thought. Shall we give a liberty to a man's library which we refuse to
his belief? Must he--and his church--have only his grandfather's ideas,
standards, and decrees?
The tenets of a sect are the theological arrangement of belief which for
the present seems best; it is the systematic arrangement of facts so far
examined, determined, and classified. But no system of theology can be
final. Thought is moving on. Experience is progressive. Providence is
continually revealing. The race is a creed-builder, as well as a builder
of pyramids, cathedrals, and triumphal arches.
The building-up of doctrine is superb. Into doctrine are woven the
intellectual beliefs, the emotional experiences, and the spiritual
struggles of mankind. Doctrine is an attempt to classify the spiritual
problems of the race and to present a theory of redemption which shall
be adequate, spiritually progressive, and the exact expression, so far
as yet revealed, of the will of God for man. All Christian doctrine is
centred about one point: the redemption of the race from sin. Dealing
with such great and fundamental themes, each system of doctrine is an
intellectual triumph.
Doctrine is an intellectual necessity. Christ is not sporadic, either in
history or philosophy. To teach Christ, as the unlettered savage may
who has just learned of Christ the Saviour and turns to teach his
fellow-savages, might do good or save a soul from death. But in order to
command the intellectual respect of the race, there must be another form
of teaching yet than this, a teaching which presents Christ in the
historic and philosophic setting: the central Figure in a great body of
associated spiritual truth; Christ as the fulfilment of prophecy, the
means of social adjustment and regeneration; the Finisher of our Faith,
and the Source of eternal joy. We must be, not less spiritual
Christians, but increasingly intellectual ones, as time rolls on.
Who are the men who have built up doctrine? Men speak as if doctrine
were an ecclesiastical toy--to be shaken by priest or prelate, as one
shakes a rattle, for noise, for play! A doctrine is not a toy; it is the
crystallized belief of earnest, thoughtful, and godly men--belief which
has passed into a church tradition, and is now received as an act
of faith.
Shall doctrine be taught a child? Yes! To have a specific doctrine
clearly in mind does not fetter the young soul, any more than to be
taught the apparent facts of geography and history, which may change
either in reality or in his own interpretation as his mind matures. A
doctrine is a practical and definite thing to work with; in later life
to believe, and to approve of, or disbelieve, and disapprove of. If a
man wishes to build a house, does it fetter him to know square measure,
cubic contents, geometry, mensuration, and mechanical laws? Yet when he
builds his house, he builds it in his own individual way; he stamps it
with his own personality and ideas. While building it, perchance, he
discovers some new relation or geometric law.
Doctrine does not save from hell, but it does save from many a snare
that besets the feet of man. It is a steadier of life, a strengthener of
hope, a stalwart aid to a practical, devout, and duty-doing life. A
catechism is a system of doctrine expressed in its simplest form.
Therefore, for the intellectual and moral training of the Church, let us
have sound doctrine in the pulpit, and the catechism in the home and
Sabbath-school.
It is objected that doctrinal terminology is too hard for a child to
understand. Is this not absurd, when the same child can come home from
school and talk glibly of a parallelepipedon, a rhombus, rhomboid,
polyhedral angle, archipelago, law of primogeniture, the binomial
theorem, and of a dicotyledon! He also learns French, German, Latin,
Greek, and the _argot_ of the public school!
The theological leader of to-day cannot be a creed-monger: he must be a
creed-maker. Side by side with the executive officers who will
reorganize the Christian forces, there will stand great creed-makers,
giant theologians, firm, logical, scientific, and convincing, who, out
of the vast array of new facts brought forth by modern science, will
produce new creeds, a new catechism, a new dogmatic series. It is worth
while to live in these days--to know the possibility of such monumental
constructive work in one's own lifetime. The creed-makers must have a
thorough literary training; no mere vocabulary of philosophy will
answer. Like the Elizabethan divines, they must rule the living word,
which shall echo for a century yet to come.
As the great Ecumenical Council was convened for missionary progress, so
the times are now ripe for the assembling of a historic Theological
Council, to revise and restate, not one denominational catechism, but
the creed of Christendom; to provide a new literary expression of the
Christian faith. Together we are working in God's world, and for
His kingdom.
If doctrine be the crystallized thought and belief of godly men, what is
heresy? What is schism? Who is dictator of doctrine? How far are the
limits of authority to be pressed? What are the bounds of ecclesiastical
control? of intellectual mandate in the Christian Church?
In the academic world, we do not cast a man out of his mathematical
chair because he can also work in astro-physics or in psycho-physics. If
he can pursue advanced research in an allied or applied field, it will
help him in his regular and prescribed work. We do not cast an English
professor out of his chair, because he announces that there are two
manuscripts of Layamon's _Brut_, and that the text of Beówulf has been
many times worked over, before we have received it in its present form.
Yet there are accredited professors of English who do not know these
facts, and who, if called upon, could neither prove them nor disprove
them. They have not worked in the Bodleian, in the British Museum, or in
other foreign libraries, on Old English texts and authorities. They
think themselves well up in Old English if they can translate the text
of Beówulf fairly well, remember its most difficult vocabulary, and can
tell a tale or two from the _Brut_.
Not every man has Europe or Asia in his backyard, nor a lifetime of
leisure for research, for special learning, on the moot questions of
church-scholarship. Progress consists in each man's doing his best to
advance the interests of the kingdom of God in his own special sphere.
From others he must take something for granted. The ear of the Church
ought always to be open to the sayings of the specialist. A Church
should grant liberty of research, of thought, of speech--to a degree.
But whatever may come out of twentieth-century or thirtieth-century
combats, one thing remains clear: A Church is an organization, a social
body, with a certain doctrine to proclaim, a certain faith to hand down
to men. The doctrine is not in all details final--each phase of faith
may change. But the organization, to protect its own purity and
integrity--however generous in allowing individual research, and the
expression of individual ideas--must exert authority over the teachers
in her midst, those who are called by her name, who have her children in
their charge, and for whose teaching the Church, as a whole, is
responsible. There is doubtless a time when the man who is really in
advance of his times intellectually must be misunderstood, must be
disagreed with, must be cast out. But all truth may await the verdict of
time. If he has discovered something new, something true, the centuries
will make it plain. There remains a chance--and the Church dare not risk
too great a chance--that he is mistaken, impious, presumptuous, or
self-deceived. We dare not rush to a new doctrine or spiritual
conception, merely because one man, who knows more of a certain kind of
learning than we do, has said so. One must be bolstered up by a
generation of convinced and believing men, before he can draw a Church
after him. No other process is intellectually legitimate. In any other
event ecclesiastical anarchy would reign. To maintain the historic
position of the Church is a necessity, until that position is proven
untrue. So to maintain it is not bigotry, it is not lack of charity; it
is merely common-sense.
The question, Where is the line between ecclesiastical integrity and
individual freedom? is therefore one which the common-sense of
Christendom is left to solve--not to-day, not to-morrow, but gradually,
generously, and conscientiously, as the centuries go on.