THE SUBSTANCE OF FAITH
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=THE=
=SUBSTANCE OF FAITH=
ALLIED WITH SCIENCE
A CATECHISM FOR PARENTS AND TEACHERS
BY
SIR OLIVER LODGE, F.R.S.
PRINCIPAL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF BIRMINGHAM
SIXTH EDITION
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
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First Published February 1907
Second Edition February 1907
Third, Fourth, and Fifth Editions March 1907
Sixth Edition April 1907
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Gloriam quæsivit scientiarum, invenit Dei.
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PREFACE
Everyone who has to do with children at the present day, directly or
indirectly, must in some form or another have felt the difficulty of
instructing them in the details of religious faith, without leaving them
open to the assaults of doubt hereafter,
when they encounter the results of scientific inquiry.
Sometimes the old truths and the new truths seem to conflict; and though
everyone must be aware that such internecine warfare between truths can
be an appearance only, the reconciliation is not easily perceived: nor
is the task simplified by the hostile attitude adopted towards each
other by some of the upholders of orthodox Christianity.
It is sometimes said to be impossible for a teacher to educate a class
subject to compulsory attendance, in a spirit of weal-th, peace, and
godliness, without infringing the legitimate demands of somebody; but
the difficulty is caused chiefly by sectarian animosity, which may take
a variety of forms.
These religious and educational disputes would be of small consequence,
and might even be stimulating to thought and fervour, were it not that
one danger is imminent:—a danger lest the nation, in despair of a
happier settlement, should consent to a system of _compulsory_
secularism; and forbid, in the public part of the curriculum of
elementary schools, not only any form of worship, but any mention of a
Supreme Being, and any quotation from the literature left us by the
Saints, Apostles, Prophets, of all ages.
If so excentric a negation is brought about by the warfare of
denominations, they will surely all regard it as a lamentable result.
Meanwhile, in the hope and belief that the great bulk of the teachers of
this country are eager and anxious to do their duty, and lead the
children committed to their care along the ways of righteousness,—being
deterred therefrom in some cases only by the difficulty of following out
their ideals amid the turmoil of voices, and in other cases by their
uncertainty of how far the “old paths” can still be pursued in the light
of modern knowledge,—I have attempted the task of formulating the
fundamentals, or substance,[1] of religious faith in terms of Divine
Immanence,[2] in such a way as to assimilate sufficiently all the
results of existing knowledge, and still to be in harmony with the
teachings of the poets and inspired writers of all ages. The statement
is intended to deny nothing which can reasonably be held by any specific
Denomination, and it seeks to affirm nothing but what is consistent with
universal Christian experience.
Our knowledge of the Christian religion is admittedly derived from
information verbally communicated, and from documents; and, in the
interpretation of these sources, mistakes have been made. At one time,
not long ago, it was the duty of serious students of all kinds to point
out some of these mistakes, wherever they ran counter to sense and
knowledge. That cleaning and sweetening work has been done vigorously,
and done well: at the present time comparatively little sweeping remains
to be done, save in holes and corners: most of the lost simplicity has
now been found. A positive or constructive statement of religious
doctrine, not indeed deduced from present knowledge, but in harmony with
all that bears upon the subject, is now more useful. Such a statement
might be called New Light on Old Paths; for the “old paths” remain, and
are more brightly illuminated than ever: even the old Genesis story of
man’s early experience shines out as a brilliant inspiration. Truth
always grows in light and beauty the more it is uncovered.
There are still people who endeavour to deny or disbelieve the
discoveries of science. They are setting themselves athwart the stream,
and trying to stop its advance;—they only succeed in stopping their own.
They are good people, but unwise, and, moreover, untrustful. If they
will let go their anchorage, and sail on in a spirit of fearless faith,
they will find an abundant reward, by attaining a deeper insight into
the Divine Nature, and a wider and brighter outlook over the destiny of
man.
-----
Footnote 1:
“By Substance I understand that which exists in and by itself.”
(Spinoza.)
Footnote 2:
“We may say much, yet not attain; and the sum of our words is, He is
all.” (Ecclesiasticus xliii. 27.)
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
PREFACE—ON RELIGIOUS TEACHING vii
INTRODUCTION—A PLEA FOR SYMPATHY AND BREADTH 1
I. THE ASCENT OF MAN 6
II. THE DEVELOPMENT OF CONSCIENCE 20
III. CHARACTER AND WILL 24
IV. DUTY AND SERVICE 32
V. GOODNESS AND BEAUTY AND GOD 36
VI. MAN A PART OF THE UNIVERSE 42
VII. THE NATURE OF EVIL 46
VIII. THE MEANING OF SIN 52
IX. THE DEVELOPMENT OF LIFE 56
X. COSMIC INTELLIGENCE 60
XI. IMMANENCE 64
XII. HIGHER FACULTIES, OR SOUL AND SPIRIT 76
XIII. THE REALITY OF GRACE AND OF INCARNATION 84
XIV. THE TRUTH OF INSPIRATION 92
XV. A CREED 96
XVI. THE LIFE ETERNAL 104
XVII. THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS 112
XVIII. PRAYER 116
XIX. THE LORD’S PRAYER 120
XX. THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN 122
APPENDIX. THE CLAUSES REPEATED 128
REFERENCES TO QUOTATIONS
PAGE
ix “Old paths” Jer. vi. 16.
13 “Hear no yelp” Tennyson, “By an Evolutionist.”
22 “Then welcome” Browning, “Rabbi Ben Ezra.”
22 “We fall to rise” Browning, “Asolando.”
23 “Nor shall I deem” Browning, “Paracelsus.”
30 “If my body” Tennyson, “By an Evolutionist.”
33 “Our wills” Tennyson, “In Memoriam.”
37 “The old order” Tennyson, “Morte d’Arthur.”
39 “Lilies that fester” Shakespeare, Sonnet 94.
43 “All tended” Browning, “Paracelsus.”
44 “He hath shewed thee” Micah vi. 8.
48 “The best is yet to be” Browning, “Rabbi Ben Ezra.”
49 “My son, the world” Tennyson, “Ancient Sage.”
50 “There shall never be” Browning, “Abt Vogler.”
51 “No ill no good” Tennyson, “Ancient Sage.”
55 “All we have willed” Browning, “Abt Vogler.”
59 “Where dwells enjoyment” Browning, “Paracelsus.”
59 “God tastes an infinite” Browning, “Paracelsus.”
65 “πάντα ῥεὶ ϰαὶ οὐδὲν μένει.” Heraclitus.
(Everything flows and nothing is stagnant.)
65 “The hills are shadows” Tennyson, “In Memoriam.”
73 “πάντα πλήρη θεῶν.” Thales, quoted by Aristotle.
(All things are full of gods.)
73 “Earth’s crammed” E. B. Browning, “Aurora Leigh.”
78 “Our birth” Wordsworth, “Immortality.”
81 “We are such stuff” Shakespeare, “Tempest.”
83 “Climb the mount” Tennyson, “Ancient Sage.”
86 “That none but Gods” Tennyson, “By an Evolutionist.”
87 “Flash of the will” Browning, “Abt Vogler.”
87 “All through my keys” Browning, “Abt Vogler.”
89 “’Tis the sublime” Coleridge, “Religious Musings.”
90 “Enough that he heard it” Browning, “Abt Vogler.”
101 “A sun but dimly seen” Tennyson, “Akbar’s Dream.”
106 “But that one ripple” Tennyson, “Ancient Sage.”
110 “Signs of his coming” Morris, “Love is Enough.”
115 “Then stirs the feeling” Byron, “Childe Harold.”
115 “ἡ φυχὴ τῷ ὅλῳ μέμιϰται” Aristotle, “De Animâ.”
(Spirit permeates the whole.)
115 “Whose dwelling” Wordsworth, “Tintern Abbey.”
124 “Their prejudice” Browning, “Paracelsus.”
126 “And we the poor earth’s” Tennyson, “Ancient Sage.”
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INTRODUCTION
There is a growing conception of religion which regards it not as a
thing for special hours or special days, but as a reality permeating the
whole of life. The old attempt to partition off a region where Divine
action is appropriate, from another region in which such action would be
out of place—the old superstition that God does one thing and not
another, that He speaks more directly through the thunder of catastrophe
or the mystery of miracle than through the quiet voice of ordinary
existence—all this is beginning to show signs of expiring in the light
of a coming day.
Those to whom such a change is welcome regard it as of the utmost
importance that this incipient recognition of a Deity immanent in
History and in all the processes of Nature shall be guided and elevated
and made secure. Ancient formularies must be reconsidered and remodelled
if they are to continue to express eternal verities in language
corresponding to the enlarged acquaintance with natural knowledge now
possessed by humanity.
Nevertheless the attempt to draw up anything of the nature of a creed or
catechism, unhallowed by centuries of emotion and aspiration, is
singularly difficult; and to obtain general acceptance for such a
production may be impossible.
Every Denomination is likely to prefer its own creed or formula,
especially if it has the aroma of antiquity upon it—an aroma of high
value for religious purposes and more easily destroyed than replaced. No
carefully drawn statement can be expected to go far enough to satisfy
religious enthusiasts: it is not possible to satisfy both scientific and
distinctively denominational requirements. All this might be admitted,
and yet it may be possible to lay a sound foundation such as can stand
scientific scrutiny and reasonable rationalistic attack—a foundation
which may serve as a basis for more specific edification among those who
are capable of sustaining a loftier structure.
Even though not yet fully attainable, it is permissible to hope for more
union than exists at present among professing Christians, and among the
branches of the Christian Church. With some excellent people the
differences and distinguishing marks loom out as of special importance;
but from these I can hardly claim attention. I must speak to those who
try to seize points of agreement, and who long for the time when all
Christian workers may be united in effort and friendliness and
co-operation, though not in all details of doctrine. On the practical
side, a concurrence of effort for the amelioration and spiritualisation
of human life, in the light of a common gospel and a common hope, is not
impossible; and on the theoretical side, in spite of legitimate
differences of belief on difficult and infinite problems, there must be
a mass of fundamental material on which a great majority are really
agreed.
But a foundation is not to be mistaken for superstructure: a
full-fledged and developed religion needs a great deal more than
foundation—there must be a building too. The warmth and vitality
imparted by strong religious conviction is a matter of common
observation, and is a force of great magnitude; but it is a personal and
living thing, it cannot be embodied in a formula or taught in a class.
Here lies the proper field of work of the Churches. What can be taught
in a school is the fundamental substratum underlying all such
developments and personal aspirations; and it can be dealt with on a
basis of historical and scientific fact, interpreted and enlarged by the
perceptions and experiences of mankind.
A creed or catechism should not be regarded as something superhuman,
infallible, and immutable; it should be considered to be what it really
is—a careful statement of what, in the best light of the time, can be
regarded as true and important about matters partially beyond the range
of scientific knowledge: it must always reach farther into the unknown
than science has yet explored.
An element of mystery and difficulty is not inappropriate in a creed,
although it may be primarily intended for comprehension by children.
Bare bald simplicity of statement, concerning things keenly felt but
imperfectly known, cannot be perfectly accurate; and yet every effort
should be made to combine accuracy and simplicity to the utmost. Every
word should be carefully weighed and accurately used: mere conventional
terminology should be eschewed. A sentence stored in the memory may
evolve different significations at different periods of life, and at no
one period need it be completely intelligible or commonplace. The ideal
creed should be profound rather than explicit, and yet should convey
some sort of meaning even to the simplest and most ignorant. Its terms,
therefore, should not be technical, though for full comprehension they
would have to be understood in a technical or even a recondite sense.
To make a statement of this kind useful, it is necessary to accompany
each clause with some indication of the supplementary teaching necessary
to make it assimilable: and such hints should be adapted not only to
professed teachers, but to parents and all who have to do directly or
indirectly with the education of children. It is my hope that the
following clauses and explanations may be of some use also to the many
who experience some difficulty in recognising the old landmarks amid the
rising flood of criticism, and who at one time or another have felt
shaken in their religious faith. Some of them are sure to have attained
emancipation and conviction for themselves, but in so far as their own
insight has led them in the general direction indicated by what follows,
these will not be the last to welcome an explicit statement, even though
in several places they may wish to modify and amend it. They will
recognise that there is an advantage, for some purposes, in throwing old
and over-familiar formulæ into new modes of expression; and that a
variety in mode of formulation does not necessarily indicate a lack of
appreciation of the loftiest truths yet vouchsafed to humanity.
With these preliminary remarks I now submit a catechism, whereof the
clauses are intended to be consistent with the teachings of Science in
its widest sense, as well as with those of Literature and Philosophy,
and to lead up to the substance or substratum of a religious creed.
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I
THE ASCENT OF MAN
_Q. What are you?_
_A._ I am a being alive and conscious upon this earth; a
descendant of ancestors who rose by gradual processes from
lower forms of animal life, and with struggle and suffering
became man.
* * * * *
CLAUSE I
This answer does not pretend to exhaust the nature of man; another
aspect is dealt with in Clause XII. It is usual to impart the latter
mode of statement first; but premature dwelling on the more mystical
aspect of human nature, with ignorance or neglect of the biological
facts actually ascertained concerning it, only gives rise to troubled
thought in the future when the material facts become known—often in
crude or garbled form—and leads to scepticism.
The clause as it stands is a large and comprehensive statement, that
will need much time for its elucidation and adequate comprehension. Its
separate terms may be considered thus:—
EARTH.—Children can gradually be assisted to realise the earth as an
enormous globe of matter, with vast continents and oceans on its surface
and with a clinging atmosphere, the whole moving very rapidly (nineteen
miles each second) through space, and constituting one of a number of
other planets all revolving round the sun. They may also be led to
realise that from the distance of a million miles it would appear as an
object in the sky rather like the moon; that from a greater distance it
would look like any of the other planets; while from a vastly greater
distance neither it nor any other planet is large or luminous enough to
be visible—nothing but the sun would then be seen, looking like a star.
It is occasionally helpful to realise that the earth, with all its
imperfections, is one of the heavenly bodies.
BEING.—The mystery of existence may be lightly touched upon. The fact
that anything whatever—even a stone—exists, raises unanswerable
questions of whence and why. It is instructive to think of some rocks as
agglomerations of sand, and of sand as water-worn fragments of previous
rock; so that, even here, there arises a sense of infinitude.
ALIVE.—The nature of life and, consequently, of death is unknown, but
life is associated with rapid chemical changes in complex molecules, and
is characterised by the powers or faculties of assimilation, growth, and
reproduction. It is a property we share with all animals and also with
plants. Children should not be told this in bald fashion, but by
judicious questioning should be led to perceive the essence of it for
themselves. Soon after they realise what is meant by life, some of them
will perceive that it has an enormous range of application, and will
think of flowers as possessing it also: being subject like all living
things to disease and death.
What plants do not possess is the specifically animal power of purposed
locomotion, of hunting for food and comfort, with its associated
protective penalty of pain.
CONSCIOUS.—Here we come to something specially distinctive of higher
animal life. Probably it makes its incipient appearance low down in the
scale, in vague feelings of pain or discomfort, and of pleasure; though
it is not likely that worms are as conscious as they appear to us to be.
In its higher grades consciousness means awareness of the world and of
ourselves, a discrimination between the self and the external
world—“self-consciousness” in its proper signification: an immense
subject that can only be hinted at to children. They can, however, be
taught to have some appreciation of the senses, or channels, whereby our
experience of external nature is gained; and to perceive that the way in
which we apprehend the universe is closely conditioned by the particular
sense-organs which in the struggle for existence have been evolved by
all the higher kinds of animal life,—organs which we men are now
beginning to put to the unfamiliar and novel use of scientific
investigation and cosmic interpretation. What wonder if we make
mistakes, and are narrow and limited in our outlook!
_Digression on the Senses_
Our fundamental interpretative sense is that of touch—the muscular sense
generally. Through it we become aware of space, of time, and of matter.
The experience of _space_ arises from free motion, especially
locomotion; _speed_ is a direct sensation; and _time_ is the other
factor of speed. Time is measured by any uniformly moving body—that is
by space and speed together. Muscular action impeded, the sense of
_force_ or resistance, is another primary sensation; and by inference
from this arises our notion of “matter,” which is sometimes spoken of as
a permanent possibility of sensation. Hardness and softness, roughness
and smoothness, are all inferences from varieties of touch. Another
sense allied to touch is that of _temperature_, whereby we obtain
primitive ideas concerning heat. Then there are the chemical senses of
taste and smell; and lastly, the two senses which enable us to draw
inferences respecting things at a distance. These two attract special
attention; for the information which they convey, though less
fundamental than that given by the muscular sense, is of the highest
interest and enjoyment.
The ear is an instrument for the appreciation of aerial vibrations, or
ripples in the air. They may give us a sense of harmony; and in any case
they enable us to infer something concerning the vibrating source which
generated them, so that we can utilise them, by a prearranged code, for
purposes of intelligent communication with each other—a process of the
utmost importance, to which we have grown so accustomed that its wonder
is masked.
The eye is an instrument for appreciating ripples in the ether. These
are generated by violently revolving electric charges associated with
each atom of matter, and are delayed, stopped, and reflected in various
ways, by other matter which they encounter in their swift passage
through the ethereal medium.
From long practice and inherited instinct we are able, from the small
fraction of these ripples which enter our eyes, to make inferences
regarding the obstructive objects from which they have been shimmered
and scattered. It is like inferring the ships and boats and obstacles in
a harbour from the pattern of the reflected ripples which cross each
other on the surface of the water.
The precision and clearness with which we can thus gain knowledge
concerning things beyond our reach, and the extraordinary amount of
information that can be thus conveyed, are nothing short of miraculous:
though, again, we are liable to treat sight as an everyday and
commonplace faculty. We are not, however, directly conscious of the
ripples, though they are the whole exciting cause of the sensation; our
real consciousness and perception are of the objects which have invested
the ripples with their peculiarities, have imprinted upon them certain
characteristics, and made them what they are. The eye is able to analyse
all this, as the ear analyses the tones of an orchestra.
* * * * *
ANCESTORS.—In the first instance _human_ ancestors may be considered,
and a family tree drawn for any one child; from which he will learn how
large a number of persons combine to form his ancestry. The tree can
also represent the converging effect of inter-marriages, so that
ultimate descent from a common ancestor is not an impossibility, if the
facts of biology and ethnology point in that direction—as it appears
they do. The probable though remote relationship existing between all
the branches of the human family may be suggested by an inverted tree
descending from some remotest ancestor: for whom Noah is as good a name
as any other.
ROSE.—The doctrine of the ascent of man may be found in some cases to
conflict with early religious teaching. If so, offence and iconoclasm
should be carefully avoided; and if the teacher feels that he can
conscientiously draw a distinction, between the persistent vital or
spiritual essence of man, and the temporary material vehicle which
displays his individual existence amid terrestrial surroundings, he may
with advantage do so. The second or higher aspect of the origin of man
is dealt with in Clause XII. The history and origin of the spiritual
part of man is unknown, and can only be rightly spoken of in terms of
mysticism and poetry: the history of the bodily and much of the mental
part is studied in the biological facts of evolution.
The doctrine of the ascent of man, properly regarded, is a doctrine of
much hope and comfort. Truly it is an unusual item in a child’s creed;
but it is, I think, a helpful item: it explains much that would
otherwise be dark, and it instils hope for the future. For in the light
of an evolution doctrine we can readily admit—(1) that low and savage
tendencies are naturally to be expected at certain stages, for an
evanescent moment; and (2) that having progressed thus far, we may
anticipate further—perhaps unlimited—advance for mankind.
The fact that each individual organism hastily runs through, or
reduplicates, a main part of the series of stages in the life-history of
its race, is a fact of special interest and significance; notably in
connection with the trials and temptations of human beings during their
effort to cleanse away the traces of animal nature. The severity of the
contest is already lessening, and both the individual and the race may
look forward to a time when the struggles and failures are nearly over,
when the unruliness of passion is curbed, when at length we
“. . . hear no yelp of the beast, and the man is quiet at last
As he stands on the heights of his life with a glimpse of a height
that is higher.”
GRADUAL PROCESSES.—The slowness and precariousness of evolution may be
indicated; and the possibility of descent or degeneration, as well as of
ascent and development, must be insisted on. A genealogical tree can be
drawn laterally, to illustrate the origin of any set of animals—both
those risen and those fallen in the scale—from some, possibly
hypothetical, common ancestor. The dog on the one hand, and the wolf or
jackal on the other, may serve as easy examples of ascent and descent
respectively, and of relationship between higher and lower species, or
even genera, without direct or obvious connection. The horse and the
bear may serve as examples of distant relationship; birds and reptiles
as another; and we may point out that at each stage of inheritance some
of the progeny may ascend a little in the scale, and some descend a
little.
Presently the sponge of time may wipe out the common ancestry at the
root of the lateral tree, and nothing be left but some of its ascending
and some of its descending branches,—all suited to their environment and
so continuing to live and flourish, each in its own way; but so
apparently different, that relationship between them is a matter of
inference, and is sometimes difficult to believe in. The example of the
caterpillar and butterfly, however, of the tadpole and the frog, etc.,
can be used to remove incredulity at extraordinary and instructive
transmutations—transmutations which in the individual represent rapidly
some analogous movements of racial development in the history of the
distant past. The degradation of certain free-swimming animals, such as
ascidians, which in old age become rooted or sessile like plants, can be
pointed to as typical, and, indeed, a true representation of what has
gone on in a race also, during long periods of time. The rapid passage
of the embryo through its ancestral chain of development should be
known, at any rate to the teacher; and in general the greater the
teacher’s acquaintance with natural history, the more living and
interesting will be the series of lessons that can occasionally be given
on this part of the clause.
The popular misconception concerning the biological origin of man, that
he is descended from monkeys like those of the present day, is a trivial
garbling of the truth. The elevated and the degraded branches of a
family can both trace their descent from a parent stock; and though the
distant common ancestor may now be lost in obscurity, there is certainly
in this sense a blood relationship between the quadrumana and the
bimana: a relationship which is recognised and is practically useful in
the investigations of experimental pathology.
LOWER FORMS OF ANIMAL LIFE.—The existence of single cells and other low
microscopic forms (like amœbæ), and the analysis or dissection of a more
complex structure (say rhubarb) into the cells of which it is in a sense
composed, together with some indication of the vital processes occurring
in similar but isolated cells (such as yeast or protococcus) which lead
us to consider them as possessing life—of a form so fundamental that
there is in some cases no clear discrimination between animal and
vegetable—may be spoken of and exhibited in the microscope.
From a not very different-looking minute germinal vesicle, or nucleus of
a cell, the chick is developed.
The lower forms of animal life, spoken of in the clause as ancestral,
may be understood to go back to forms even as low as these,—indeed, to
the lowest and minutest forms which in dim and distant ages can have
possessed any of the incipient characteristics of life at all: down,
perhaps, to some unknown process whereby the earthy particles began to
coalesce under a vivifying influence. And as the race springs from lowly
forms of cell life, so does the individual,—the body of each individual
was once no more than a microscopic cell-nucleus or germinal vesicle.
Therein was the germ of life: and the complex aggregate of cells we now
possess has all been put together by the directive power latent in, or
initially manifested by, that germ. So it is also with a seed—an apple
pip, an acorn, or a grain of mustard seed.
But there are many forms of animal life not in the direct line of our
ancestry—side branches, as it were, of the great terrestrial family. At
present the earth is dominated by man, but at one time it was mastered
by gigantic reptiles, larger than any land creature of to-day, the
remains of which are occasionally found fossilised into stone and
embedded in the rocks; fit to be collected and preserved in museums.
For millions of years the earth was inhabited by creatures no higher
than these; the progress upwards has been slow and patient: time is
infinitely long, and the great history of the world is still working
itself out.
Still do lower forms exist side by side with higher; and many of them
are suited to their surroundings, and in their place are beautiful and
sane and perfect of their kind. But a few of the lower forms are lower
because they have failed to reach the standard of their race, they are
very far from any kind of perfection, they are at war with their
environment; and for these, the only alternatives are extinction or
improvement. In such a species as man the variety or range of
achievement and of elevation is enormous. Among men and their works we
find, on the one hand, cathedrals and oratorios and poems, and faith and
charity and hope; on the other, slums and ugliness and prisons, and
spite and cruelty and greed. And we must not forget that want of harmony
with environment may in some cases be the fault, not of the individual,
but of the environment: a fault which it is specially likely to possess
when man-made. For every now and then is born an individual far above
the average of the race, amid surroundings which he finds deadly and
depressing. He may be despised and rejected by his fellows, and
nevertheless may be the precursor or herald of a nobler future.
The problem, the main human problem, is how to deal with the earth
now—now that we have at length attained to conscious control—so as to
cease perpetuating the lower forms, and to encourage the production of
the higher; by giving to all children born on the planet a fair chance
of becoming, each in its own way, a noble specimen of developed
humanity.
STRUGGLE AND SUFFERING.—Children should realise the bleak and
unprotected state through which their remote ancestors must have begun a
human existence, the great dangers which they had to overcome, the
contests with beasts and with the severities of climate, the hardships
and perils and straits through which they passed; and should be grateful
to those unknown pioneers of the human race, to whose struggles and
suffering and discoveries and energies our present favoured mode of
existence on the planet is due.
The more people realise the effort that has preceded them and made them
possible, the more are they likely to endeavour to be worthy of it: the
more pitiful also will they feel when they see individuals failing in
the struggle upward and falling back towards a brute condition; and the
more hopeful they will ultimately become for the brilliant future of a
race which from such lowly and unpromising beginnings has produced the
material vehicle necessary for those great men who flourished in the
recent epoch which we speak of as antiquity; and has been so guided,
since then, as to develop the magnificence of a Newton and a Shakespeare
even on this island in the northern seas.
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II
THE DEVELOPMENT OF CONSCIENCE
_Q. 2. What, then, may be meant by the Fall of man?_
_A._ At a certain stage of development man became conscious
of a difference between right and wrong, so that thereafter,
when his actions fell below a normal standard of conduct, he
felt ashamed and sinful. He thus lost his animal innocency,
and entered on a long period of human effort and failure;
nevertheless, the consciousness of degradation marked a rise
in the scale of existence.
* * * * *
CLAUSE II
This clause has been inserted because of the historic, though often
mistaken, notions accreted round a legend of Fall and of a Paradise
lost; and it is of interest to detect the germ of truth which these
ancient ideas contain. It may be regarded as really an appendage of, or
introductory to, the next clause.
The sense of guilt and shame is to some extent displayed by a dog; but
it appears to be due to domestication, and to be a secondary result of
human influence. In any case, it is certainly only the higher animals
that thus exhibit the germ of conscience, and the sense of shame and
remorse: a sense which is most real and genuine when it is independent
of externally inflicted and of expected punishment. Wild animals appear
to have no such feeling, they glory in what we may picturesquely speak
of as their “misdeeds,” and in running the gauntlet of danger to achieve
them; and though often cruel, they are free from sin. Some savages—our
own Norse forefathers among others—must on their freebooting expeditions
have been in similar case. So were some of the Homeric heroes. It would
be only the highest and most thoughtful among them that could rise to
the sense of guilt and degradation. Only those who have risen are liable
to fall. The summit of manhood is attained when evil is consciously
overcome. The period before it was recognised as such has been called
the golden age; but the condition of unconsciousness of evil, though
joyous, is manifestly inferior to the state ultimately attainable, when
paradise is regained through struggle and victory.
Mere innocency, the freedom from sin by reason only of lack of
perception, is not the highest state; it has been thought ideal from the
point of view of inspiration and poetry, but it is a condition in which
advance is necessarily limited. Sooner or later fuller knowledge and
consciousness must arrive; and then ensues a long period of discipline
and distress, until first a Leader and ultimately the race find their
way out, through temptation and difficulty, once more to freedom and
joy.
A perception that the possibility of backsliding is a necessary
ingredient in the making of man, and the consequent discernment of a
soul of goodness in things evil, constitute a large part of the teaching
of Browning:
“Then welcome each rebuff
That turns earth’s smoothness rough,
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go!
Be our joys three parts pain!
Strive to hold cheap the strain;
Learn, nor account the pang: dare, never grudge the throe.”
And again—
“We fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake——”
The intervening period between fall and victory, between loss of
innocency and gain of righteousness, is the period with which all human
history is concerned: and there is often a corresponding period in the
life-history of every fully developed individual, during which he gropes
his way through darkness and longs for light.
Immense is the area still to be traversed and illumined: only faint
gleams penetrate the dusk. A Light has indeed shone through the
darkness, but the darkness comprehended it not. The race itself is still
enveloped in mist, and only here and there a glint of reflexion heralds
the brightness of a coming dawn. Yet a time will come when we shall cast
away the works of darkness and put upon us the armour of light, and
stand forth in the glory of completed manhood:
“Nor shall I deem his object served, his end
Attained, his genuine strength put fairly forth,
While only here and there a star dispels
The darkness, here and there a towering mind
O’erlooks its prostrate fellows. When the host
Is out at once, to the despair of night,
When all mankind alike is perfected,
Equal in full-blown powers—then, not till then,
I say, begins man’s general infancy.”
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III
CHARACTER AND WILL
_Q. 3. What is the distinctive characteristic of man?_
_A._ The distinctive character of man is that he has a sense
of responsibility for his acts, having acquired the power of
choosing between good and evil, with freedom to obey one
motive rather than another.
Creatures far below the human level are irresponsible; they
feel no shame and suffer no remorse; they are said to have
no conscience.
* * * * *
CLAUSE III
CHARACTER OF MANHOOD
In putting this question, children may be asked to suggest
characteristics which distinguish man from animals. If gradually they
hit upon clothes and fire and speech they will do well.
_Clothes_ may be defined as artificial covering removable at will;
“artificial” meaning made by an artificer, or manufactured, as opposed
to natural growth, like fur. But the changes of covering among animals
should not be overlooked: moulting for instance, renewal of skin
necessitated by growth, protective change of colour at summer and
winter, and so on.
The discovery of _Fire_ is a thing to be emphasised, because familiarity
with lucifer matches is liable to engender contempt for this great
pre-historic discovery. People should realise that at one time the
production of flame _de novo_ was extremely difficult: the ordinary
method of lighting fires being to keep some one fire always alight, so
that brands could be ignited at it and thus it could be spread. The fact
that lighting other fires does not diminish or weaken the original
stock, is noteworthy, and is an analogy with life which may be typified
by oaks and acorns—any number of trees arising from a parent stock, and
spreading for innumerable generations. The ancient ceremony of keeping
flames alight on sacred altars was doubtless due to the difficulty of
re-ignition when every fire in a village had accidentally become
extinguished. That the ancients valued fire highly, and felt strongly
the difficulty of generating it, is shown by the legend that the first
fire must have been stolen from heaven; and the priests taught, as usual
in barbarous times, that the gods were jealous and angry at man’s
discoveries and the progress of science.
_Speech_ and _language_ is a most vital characteristic of manhood, and
is largely responsible for the chasm between him and other animals. The
gestures and noises of animals must not be overlooked, however, and they
often seem to have mysterious modes of communication of some kind. But
they have nothing akin to _writing_, and this portentous discovery
enables not merely communication between contemporary living men, but an
accumulation of information and experience throughout the centuries; so
that a man is no longer dependent solely on his own individual
experience, but is able to draw upon the records and wisdom of the past.
Owing to this power of recording and handing on information, a discovery
once made becomes the possession of the human race henceforth for
ever—unless it relapses into barbarism.
WILL
None of these characteristics, however, is emphasised in the clause,
because they lead too far afield if pursued. For our present purpose we
regard the sense of “conscience,” suggested by the previous answer, as
the most important and highest characteristic of all,—the sense of
responsibility, the power of self-determination, the building up of
character, so that ultimately it becomes impossible to be actuated by
unworthy motives. Our actions are now controlled not by external
impulses only, but largely by our own characters and wills. The man who
is the creature of impulse, or the slave of his passions, cannot be said
to be his own master, or to be really free; he drifts hither and thither
according to the caprice or the temptation of the moment, he is
untrustworthy and without solidity or dignity of character. The free man
is he who can control himself, who does not obey every idea as it occurs
to him, but weighs and determines for himself, and is not at the mercy
of external influences. This is the real meaning of choice and free
will. It does not mean that actions are capricious and undetermined; but
that they are determined by nothing less than the totality of things.
They are not determined by the external world alone, so that they can be
calculated and predicted from outside: they are determined by self and
external world together. A free man is the master of his motives, and
selects that motive which he wills to obey.
If he chooses wrongly, he suffers; he is liable also to make others
suffer, and he feels remorse. In a high grade of existence no other
punishment is necessary. Artificial punishment has for its object the
production of artificial remorse, in creatures too low as yet for the
genuine feeling. Artificial punishment can be easily exaggerated and
misapplied, and should be employed with extreme caution. It is always
ambitious and often dangerous, though sometimes justifiable and
necessary, to attempt to take the place of Providence. Even between
parents and children, enforcement of another’s will may be overdone,
till the power of self-control and the instinct of duty are impaired.
The sense of responsibility inevitably grows with power and knowledge,
and is proportional thereto. By means of drugs a grown man may enfeeble
his will till he becomes in some sense irresponsible for his actions;
but he is not irresponsible for his wilful destruction of a human
faculty; and in so far as he is dangerous to others he must be treated
accordingly.
The struggle in man’s nature between the better and the worse
elements,—sometimes spoken of as a struggle between dual personalities,
and otherwise depicted as a conflict between the flesh and the
spirit,—is a natural consequence of our double ancestry (spoken of in
Clause XII.), our ascent from animal fellow-creatures, and our
relationship with a higher order of being. No man in his sober senses
really wills to do evil: he does it with some motive which he tries to
think justifies it; or else he does it against his real will because
mastered by something lower. So Plato teaches in the _Gorgias_. And St.
Paul says the same thing:
“The good which I would, I do not; but the evil which I would not, that
I do.”
The conflict is often a period of torment and misery. “O, wretched man
that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”
Whenever the better nature prevails in the struggle, there is a mystic
sense of strength and comfort universally testified to by humanity, even
though the victory results in temporal loss or persecution; “in all
these things we are more than conquerors.” And this fact corresponds
with part of the answer to Question 6 below.
We can recognise that our evil impulses are the natural remnant of
bestial ancestry, and need not be due to diabolical promptings. An
animal, though perhaps innocent from lack of knowledge, is bound and
enslaved by its instincts; for instance, the apparently intelligent and
social bee is driven by racial instincts into a prescribed course of
action; a cat can no more refrain from trying to catch a bird than a man
of high nature can allow himself to commit a crime.
The weak man often allows his brute nature to get the upper hand and
enslave his higher self, and he hates himself afterwards for the
degradation so caused; but the strong and free man takes control, and
dominates his animal nature.
“If my body come from brutes, tho’ somewhat finer than their own,
I am heir, and this my kingdom. Shall the royal voice be mute?
No, but if the rebel subject seek to drag me from the throne,
Hold the Sceptre, Human Soul, and rule thy Province of the brute.”
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IV
DUTY AND SERVICE
_Q. 4. What is the duty of man?_
_A._ To assist his fellows, to develop his own higher self,
to strive towards good in every way open to his powers, and
generally to seek to know the laws of Nature and to obey the
will of God; in whose service alone can be found that
harmonious exercise of the faculties which is identical with
perfect freedom.
* * * * *
CLAUSE IV
The laws of nature signify the ascertained processes and consistencies
observable in all surrounding things; they are a special and partial,
but accurately ascertainable, aspect of what is called the will of God.
They cannot be broken or really disobeyed; but we may set ourselves in
fruitless antagonism to them,—as by building a bridge too weak to stand,
by various kinds of wrong conduct, eating unduly or wrong kind of food,
by careless sanitation and neglect of health. But all such ignorance or
neglect of the laws of nature involves disaster. By knowing them, and
acting with them, we show wisdom; and by steady persistence in right
action we attain the highest development possible to us at present; we
also escape that dreary sense of disloyal hopeless struggle against
circumstances which is inconsistent with harmony or freedom. So long as
the will of any creature is antagonistic to the rest of the universe, it
is not fully developed. There must be a harmony among all the parts of a
whole; but in the case of free beings it is not a forced but a willing
harmony that is aimed at; and all experience takes time
“Our wills are ours, we know not how,
Our wills are ours to make them Thine.”
The higher a man can raise himself in the scale of existence—by
education, right conduct, and persistent effort—the more he may be able
to help his fellows. To some are given ten talents, to some five, and to
another one; but it is the duty of all to use their talents to the
uttermost, so that they may fulfil the intention of the higher Power
which brought us into existence and intrusted us with responsible
control. Events do not happen without adequate cause, and in so far as
agents, stewards, or trustees rest on their oars or misuse their
opportunities, improvements now possible will not be accomplished. We
must regard ourselves as instruments and channels of the Divine action;
even in a few things we must be good and faithful servants, and it is
our privilege to help now in the conscious evolution and development of
a higher life on this planet.
The race of man has far to travel before it can be regarded as an
efficient organ of the Divine Purpose. The extremes of ability and
character and virtue are widely separated; and the occasional elevation
of a leader, here and there, serves but to display the darkness in which
the majority of a race so newly evolved are still imprisoned; crawling
feebly toward the light, in a state of only rudimentary consciousness;
anxious about trivialities, opposing and hindering instead of helping
each other, competing rather than co-operating, fighting and struggling
and killing in the throes of racial birth. It is often difficult to
realise the possible perfectness of human life, in the midst of so much
difficulty and discouragement.
And much of the difficulty is unnecessary and artificial. Deficiency in
the means of subsistence, or in modest comfort, is not a reasonable
condition of human life. The earth is ready to yield plenty for all, and
will when properly treated and understood; but never will it spoil its
children with bounties from a neglected breast. It must be coaxed and
coerced, and then it will respond lavishly. We expend plenty of energy
already, only we misapply it. If only our aim could be changed, and our
energy be concentrated on clear and conscious pressing forward, with a
definite mark in view—towards which all could work together and all
together could attain, instead of one at the expense of others—“then
would the earth put forth her increase, and God, even our own God, would
give us His blessing.”
(The “duty” clauses in the Church Catechism are well worth learning.)
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V
GOODNESS AND BEAUTY AND GOD
_Q. 5. What is meant by good and evil?_
_A._ Good is that which promotes development, and is in
harmony with the will of God. It is akin to health and
beauty and happiness.