Gentlemen of the secular press dealt with the Rev. Mr. Sheldon not
altogether fairly. To some very relevant considerations they gave no
weight. It was not fair, for example, to say, as the distinguished
editor of the _North American Review_ did, that in conducting a daily
newspaper for a week as he conceived that Christ would have conducted
it, Mr. Sheldon acted the part of “a notoriety seeking mountebank.” It
seldom is fair to go into the question of motive, for that is something
upon which one has the least light, even when the motive is one’s own.
The motives that dominate us we think simple and obvious; they are in
most instances exceedingly complex and obscure. Complacently surveying
the wreck and ruin that he has wrought, even that great anarch, the
well-meaning person, can not have entire assurance that he meant as
well as the disastrous results appear to him to show.
The trouble with the editor of the _Review_ was inability to put
himself in another’s place if that happened to be at any considerable
distance from his own place. He made no allowance for the difference
in the point of view—for the difference, that is, between his mind
and the mind of Mr. Sheldon. If the editor had undertaken to conduct
a newspaper as Christ would have done he would indeed have been “a
notoriety seeking mountebank,” or some similarly unenviable thing, for
only a selfish purpose could persuade him to an obviously resultless
work. But Mr. Sheldon was different—his was the religious mind—a mind
having faith in an “overruling” Providence who can, and frequently
does, interfere with the orderly relation of cause and effect,
accomplishing an end by means otherwise inadequate to its production.
Believing himself a faithful servant of that Power, and asking daily
for His interposition in promotion of a highly moral purpose, why
should he not have expected His favor to the enterprise? To expect
this was, in Mr. Sheldon, natural, reasonable, wise; his folly lay in
believing in conditions making it expectable. A person convinced that
the law of gravitation is suspended is no fool for walking into a bog.
His critic may understand, but Mr. Sheldon could not understand, that
Jesus Christ would not edit a newspaper at all.
The religious mind, it should be understood, is not logical. It may
acquire, as Whateley’s did, a certain familiarity with the syllogism
as an abstraction, but of the syllogism’s practical application, its
real relation to the phenomena of thought, the religious mind can know
nothing. That is merely to say that a mind congenitally gifted with the
power of logic and accessible to its light and leading does not take
to religion, which is a matter, not of reason, but of feeling—not of
the head, but of the heart. Religions are conclusions for which the
facts of nature supply no major premises. They are accepted or rejected
according to the original mental make-up of the person to whom they
appeal for recognition. Believers and unbelievers are like two boys
quarreling across a wall. Each got to his place by means of a ladder.
They may fight if they will, but neither can kick away the other’s
support.
Believing the things that he did believe, Mr. Sheldon was right in
thinking that the main purpose of a newspaper should be the salvation
of souls. If his religious belief is true that should be the main
purpose, not only of a newspaper, but of everything that has a purpose,
or can be given one. If we have immortal souls and the consequences of
our deeds in the body reach over into another life in another world,
determining there our eternal state of happiness or pain, this is the
most momentous fact conceivable. A man who, believing this to be a
fact, does not make it the one purpose of his life to save his soul
and the souls of others that are willing to be saved is a rogue. If he
think that any part of this only needful work can be done by turning a
newspaper into a pulpit he ought to do so or (preferably) perish in the
attempt.
The talk of degrading the sacred name, and all that, is mostly
nonsense. If one may not test his conduct in this life by reference to
the highest standard that his religion supplies it is not easy to see
how religion is to be made anything but a mere body of doctrine. I do
not think the Christian religion will ever be seriously discredited
by an attempt to determine, even with too dim a light, what, under
given circumstances, the man miscalled its “founder” would do. What
else is his great example good for? But it is not always enough to ask
oneself, “How would Christ do this?” One should first consider whether
Christ would do it. It is conceivable that certain of his thrifty
contemporaries may have asked him how he would change money in the
Temple.
If Mr. Sheldon’s critics were unfair his defenders were, as a rule, not
much better. They meant to be fair, but they had to be foolish. For
example, there is the Rev. Dr. Parkhurst, whose defense was published
with the _Review’s_ attack. I shall give a single illustration of how
this more celebrated than cerebrated “divine” is pleased to think
that he thinks. He is replying to some one’s application to this
matter of Christ’s injunction, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures
on earth.” This command, he gravely says, “is not against money, nor
against the making of money, but against the loving it for its own
sake and the dedicating of it to self-aggrandizing uses.” I call this
a foolish utterance, because it violates the good old rule of not
telling an obvious falsehood. In no word nor syllable does Christ’s
injunction give the least color of truth to the reverend gentleman’s
“interpretation;” that is the reverend gentleman’s very own, and
doubtless he feels an honest pride in it. It is the product of a
controversial need—a characteristic attempt to creep out of a hole
in an enclosure which he was not invited to enter. The words need no
“interpretation;” are susceptible to none; are as clear and unambiguous
a proposition as language can frame. Moreover, they are consistent
with all that we think we know of their author’s life and character,
for he not only lived in poverty and taught poverty as a blessing, but
commanded it as a duty and a means to salvation. The probable effect
of universal obedience among those who adore him as a god is not at
present an urgent question. I think even so faithful a disciple as
the Rev. Dr. Parkhurst has still a place to lay his head, a little
of the wherewithal to be clothed, and a good deal of the power of
interpretation to excuse it.