goodness and beauty of Life, and of the assistance constantly vouchsafed
to our own efforts in that direction. It is not by our own efforts alone
that we can succeed, for we cannot tell what lies before us, and we lack
wisdom to foresee the consequences of alternative courses of action,—one
of which nevertheless we instinctively feel to be right. Acts of
self-will, and fanatical determination, and impatience, may operate in
the wrong direction altogether; and effort so expended may be worse than
wasted. But if we submit ourselves wholly to a beneficent Power, and
seek not our own ends but the ends of the Guiding Spirit of all things,
we shall obtain peace in ourselves, and may hope to be used for purposes
beyond what we can ask or think. This kind of service is what, in its
several degrees, will be recognised by the Master as “faithful”; and it
is by being faithful in a few things that hereafter we shall be found
worthy of many things, and shall enter into the joy of our Lord.
By the Holy Spirit is meant the living and immanent Deity at work in the
consciousness and experience of mankind,—the guider of human history,
the comforter of human sorrow, the revealer of truth, the inspirer of
faith and hope and love, the producer of life and joy and beauty, the
sustainer and enricher of existence, the Impersonation of the Grace of
God.
This mighty theme has been treated, in an initial manner, in connexion
with Clause XIII.
Supplementary questions will be asked concerning other terms in the
third paragraph; but as to the phrase with which the Creed concludes—the
Peace of God,—its meaning, we are well assured, surpasses understanding,
and can be felt only by experience; hence no supplementary question is
asked concerning that phrase.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XVI
THE LIFE ETERNAL
_Q. 16. What do you mean by the Life Eternal?_
_A._ I mean that, whereas our terrestrial existence is
temporary, our real existence continues without ceasing, in
either a higher or a lower form, according to our use of
opportunities and means of grace; and that the fulness of
Life ultimately attainable represents a growing perfection
at present inconceivable by us.
* * * * *
CLAUSE XVI
Continuity of existence, without break or interruption, is the
fundamental idea that needs inculcation, not only among children but
among ignorant people generally. And the survival, from savage times, of
an inclination to associate a full measure of departed personality with
the discarded and decomposing bodily remnant,—under the impression that
it will awake and live again at some future day,—should be steadily
discouraged. The idea of bodily resurrection, in this physical sense, is
responsible for much superstition and for some ecclesiastical abuses.
A nearer approach to the truth may be expressed thus:—
Terrestrial existence is dependent for its continuance on a certain
arrangement of material particles belonging to the earth, which are
gradually collected and built up into the complex and constantly
changing structure called a body. The correspondence or connection
between matter and spirit, as thus exhibited, is common to every form of
life in some degree, and is probably a symbol or sample of something
permanently true; so that a double aspect of every fundamental existence
is likely always to continue. But identity of person in no way depends
upon identity of particles: the particles are frequently changed and the
old ones discarded.
The term “body” should be explained and emphasised, as connoting
anything which is able to manifest feelings, emotions, and thoughts, and
at the same time to operate efficiently on its environment. The
temporary character of the present human body should be admitted for
purposes of religion; it usefully and truthfully displays the incarnate
part of us during the brief episode of terrestrial life, and when it has
served its turn it is left behind, its particles being discarded and
dispersed. Hereafter—we are taught—an equally efficient vehicle of
manifestation, similarly appropriate to our new environment, will not be
lacking; this at present unknown and hypothetical entity is spoken of as
“a spiritual body,” and represents the serious idea underlying crude
popular notions about bodily resurrection.
The _ego_ has been likened to a ripple raised by wind upon water,
displaying in visible form the motion and influence of the operating
breath, without being permanently differentiated from the vast whole, of
which each ripple is a temporarily individualised portion:
individualised, yet not isolated from others, but connected with them by
the ocean, of whose immensity it may be supposed for poetic purposes
gradually to become aware:—
“But that one ripple on the boundless deep
Feels that the deep is boundless, and itself
For ever changing form, but evermore
One with the boundless motion of the deep.”
There is much to be said for some form of doctrine of a common
psychological basis or union of minds—some kind of Anima Mundi, some
World-Mind, of which we are all fragments, and to which all knowledge is
in a manner accessible; but the analogy of ocean ripples or icebergs
need not be pressed to support the idea of a cessation of individual
existence, when a given ripple or a given iceberg subsides. All
analogies fail at some point. The ocean analogy happens to suggest
indistinguishable absorption, or Nirvana, but others do not. The parts
of a jelly are linked together and vibrate as a whole, but each little
sac of fluid is partitioned off as an individual entity; in touch with
all the rest, but with a texture and a colour of its own.
Continued personality, persistent individual existence, cannot be
predicated of things which do not possess personality or individuality
or character: but, to things which do possess these attributes,
continuity and persistence not only may, but must, apply; unless we are
to suppose that actual existence suddenly ceases. There must be a
conservation of character; notwithstanding the admitted return of the
individual to a central store or larger self, from which a portion was
differentiated and individualised for the brief period during which the
planet performs some seventy of its innumerable journeys round the sun.
Absorption in original source may mask, but need not destroy, identity.
Even so a villager, picked out as a recruit and sent to the seat of war,
may serve his country, may gain experience, acquire a soul and a width
of horizon such as he had not dreamt of; and when he returns, after the
war is over, may be merged as before in his native village. But the
village is the richer for his presence, and his individuality or
personality is not really lost; though to the eye of the world, which
has no further need for it, it has practically ceased to be.
The character and experience gained by us during our brief association
with the matter of this planet, become our possession henceforth for
ever. We cannot shake ourselves free of them, even if we would: the
enlargement of ideas, the growth in knowledge, the acquisition of
friendships, the skill and power and serviceableness attained by us
through this strange experience of incarnation, all persist as part and
parcel of our larger self; and so do the memories of failure, of shame,
of cruelty, of sin, which we have acquired here. To glory in these last
things is damnation: the best that they can bring to us is pain and
undying remorse—their worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched. There
is no way out, save by the way of mercy and grace; whereby we are
assured that at last, in the long last, we may ultimately attain to
pardon and peace.
The class of things which is certainly not persistent, but must
indubitably be left behind us for ever, is the weird collection of
treasures for which most of us work so hard: scorning delights and
living laborious days for their acquisition.
In this blind and mistaken struggle—a struggle which in the present
condition of society seems so unavoidable, even so meritorious, but
which in a reformed society will be looked back upon as at something
akin to lunacy—we do not even make to ourselves friends of the mammon of
unrighteousness. Its mottoes are “each for himself” and “væ victis.”
Fortunately very few of the human race wholly succumb to this
temptation; nearly all reserve great regions of their lives where
kindness and friendliness and affection reign, and try to check the evil
results of their worser or self-directed efforts by charitable doles.
In a more ideal state of society there would be no need either of the
poison or of its antidote.
To bring about such an ideal state of society is the end and aim of
Politics, and of all movements for social reform. Efforts in these
directions are the most serious things in life, and may be the most
fruitful in vital results: since few individuals are strong enough
to withstand the pressure and tendency of their social surroundings.
Only a few can rise superior to them, only a few sink far beneath
them; the majority drift with the crowd and become—too many at
present—irretrievably injured by the base and ugly conditions among
which their lives are cast.
At present, for the majority of Englishmen, life is liable to be
damaging and deleterious: initial weakness of character, so far from
being strengthened and helped by the combined force of society, is
hindered and enfeebled thereby,—a disastrous and disquieting condition
of things. But when the efforts of self-sacrificing and laborious
statesmen, Ministers in the highest sense (Mark x. 43),—when these
efforts at cultivation bear fruit,—then, notwithstanding individual
lapses here and there, society at large will be indistinguishable from a
human branch of the Communion of Saints. Then will feeble impulses
towards virtue be fostered and encouraged; the bruised reed will no
longer be broken and trampled in the mire.
The Life Eternal in its fullest sense must be entered upon here and now.
The emphasis is on the word _Life_, without reference to time. “I am
come that ye might have Life.” Life of a far higher kind than any we yet
know is attainable by the human race on this planet. It rests largely
with ourselves. The outlook was never brighter than it is to-day; many
workers and thinkers are making ready the way for a Second Advent,—a
reincarnation of the Logos in the heart of all men; the heralds are
already attuning their songs for a reign of brotherly love; already
there are “signs of his coming and sounds of his feet”; and upon our
terrestrial activity the date of this Advent depends.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XVII
THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS
_Q. 17. What is the significance of the “Communion of
Saints”?_
_A._ Higher and holier beings must possess, in fuller
fruition, those privileges of communion which are already
foreshadowed by our own faculties of language, of sympathy,
and of mutual aid; and as we find that man’s power of
friendly help is not confined to his fellows, but extends to
other animals, so may we conceive ourselves part of a mighty
Fellowship of love and service.
* * * * *
CLAUSE XVII
Here is opened up a great subject on which much remains to be
discovered. It is probable that the action of the Deity throughout the
Universe is always conducted through intermediaries and agents. In all
cases that we can examine, it is so; and this is one of the many
meanings of “Immanence.”
Humanity is the most prominent, to us, among Divine agencies, and though
it is probably only an infinitesimal fraction of the whole, yet it can
be studied as a sample. Experience shows us that human beings have
feelings of sympathy, pity, and love, and can be moved to act in certain
ways by persistent urging and by definite requests. There is no reason
to suppose that this faculty of hearing and answering is limited to our
own comparatively lowly stage of existence. Man may be regarded as a
germ or indication of far more powerful agencies, of which at present we
know very little.
The faculty of communion familiarly possessed by man is not likely to be
exhaustive of all possible methods of mental and spiritual intercourse;
and, in the undeveloped power of telepathy, we have an indication of a
mode apparently not dependent on the machinery of physical processes,
and not necessarily limited to intelligences inhabiting the surface of a
planet. Why associate mind only with the surface of a mass of matter?
Enthusiasts hope some day to be able to communicate with people on Mars,
but there may be intelligences far more accessible to us than those
remote and hypothetical denizens of another world. The immanent Spirit
of nature is likely to individualise and personify itself in ways
mysterious and unknown: all manner of possibilities lie open to our
study and examination; and—until we have scrutinised the evidence, and
thought long and deeply on the subject—our negative opinion, based upon
long habit and tradition, must not be allowed undue weight. It must be
remembered that the above is speculation, not knowledge; yet something
like it has received the sanction of great philosophers. Here is an
exclamation of Hegel:—
“We do not mean to be behind; our watchword shall be Reason and Freedom,
and our rallying ground the Invisible Church.”
So far our eyes are open to perceive only the assiduous operations of
man; and any supposed influence of other agencies we regard with
suspicion and mistrust. Some are inclined to think that man is solitary
in the universe, the highest of created things; without equal, without
superior, without companionship; alone with his indomitable soul amid
scenes of unspeakable grandeur and awe; alone with his brethren in a
universe wherein no spark of feeling, no gleam of intelligence, can be
aroused by his unuttered longings, no echo of sympathy can respond to
his bewildered need.
Yet that is not the feeling which arises during spells of lonely
communion with nature, on rock or sea or trackless waste. At these
moments comes a sense of Presence, such as Wordsworth felt at Tintern,
or Byron when he wrote:
“Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt
In solitude, where we are _least_ alone.”
Until our senses are opened more widely, scepticism concerning spiritual
beings, as intermediate links with absolute Deity, may be our safest
attitude, for ignorance is better than superstition; but the seers of
the human race have surmised that as denizens of a higher universe we
are far from lonely, that it is only our limited perception that is at
fault, and that to clearer eyes the whole of nature is transfused with
spirit: ἡ φυχὴ τῷ ὅλῳ μέμιϰται,
“Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XVIII
MYSTIC COMMUNION OR PRAYER
_Q. 18. What do you understand by prayer?_
_A._ I understand that when our spirits are attuned to the
Spirit of Righteousness, our hopes and aspirations exert an
influence far beyond their conscious range, and in a true
sense bring us into communion with our Heavenly Father. This
power of filial communion is called prayer; it is an
attitude of mingled worship and supplication; we offer
petitions in a spirit of trust and submission, and endeavour
to realise the Divine attributes, with the help and example
of Christ.
* * * * *
CLAUSE XVIII
In prayer we come into close communion with a Higher than we know, and
seek to contemplate Divine perfection. Its climax and consummation is
attained when we realise the universal Permeance, the entire Goodness,
and the Fatherly Love, of the Divine Being. Through prayer we admit our
dependence on a Higher Power, for existence and health and everything we
possess; we are encouraged to ask for whatever we need, as children ask
parents; and we inevitably cry for mercy and comfort in times of
tribulation and anguish.
The spirit of simple supplication may desire chiefly—
1. Insight and receptiveness to truth and knowledge.
2. Help and guidance in the practical management of
life.
3. Ability and willingness to follow the light
whithersoever it leads.
But provided we ask in a right spirit, it is not necessary to be
specially careful concerning the kind of things asked for; nor need we
in all cases attempt to decide how far their attainment is possible or
not. In such matters we may admit our ignorance. What is important is
that we should apply our own efforts towards the fulfilment of our
petition, and not be satisfied with wishes alone. Everything
accomplished has to be done by actual work and activity of some kind,
and it is unreasonable to expect the rest of the universe to take
trouble on our behalf while we ourselves are supine. Certain material
means are within our control: these should be fully employed, in the
light of the best knowledge of the time.
The highest type of prayer has for its object not any material benefit,
beyond those necessary for our activity and usefulness, but the
enlightenment and amendment of our wills, the elevation of all humanity,
and the coming of the Kingdom.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XIX
THE LORD’S PRAYER
_Q._ _Rehearse the prayer taught us by Jesus._
_A._
OUR FATHER WHICH ART IN HEAVEN,
HALLOWED BE THY NAME.
THY KINGDOM COME.
THY WILL BE DONE IN EARTH, AS IT IS IN HEAVEN.
GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD.
AND FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES,
AS WE FORGIVE THEM THAT TRESPASS AGAINST US.
AND LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION; BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL:
FOR THINE IS THE KINGDOM,
AND THE POWER,
AND THE GLORY,
FOR EVER.
* * * * *
CLAUSE XIX
_Q. 19. Explain the purport of this prayer._
_A._ We first attune our spirit to consciousness of the
Divine Fatherhood; trying to realise His infinite holiness
as well as His loving-kindness, desiring that everything
alien to His will should cease in our hearts and in the
world, and longing for the establishment of the Kingdom of
Heaven. Then we ask for the supply of the ordinary needs
of existence, and for the forgiveness of our sins and
shortcomings as we pardon those who have hurt us. We pray
to be kept from evil influences, and to be protected when
they attack us. Finally, we repose in the might, majesty,
and dominion of the Eternal Goodness.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
XX
THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN
_Q. 20. What is meant by the Kingdom of Heaven?_
_A._ The Kingdom of Heaven is the central feature of
practical Christianity. It represents a harmonious condition
in which the Divine Will is perfectly obeyed; it signifies
the highest state of existence, both individual and social,
which we can conceive. Our whole effort should, directly or
indirectly, make ready its way,—in our hearts, in our lives,
and in the lives of others. It is the ideal state of society
towards which Reformers are striving; it is the ideal of
conscious existence towards which Saints aim.
* * * * *
CLAUSE XX
This mighty ideal has many aspects. It has been typified as the pearl of
great price, for which all other possessions may well be sacrificed: in
germ it is as leaven, or as growing seed. It will come sooner than is
expected, though for a time longer there must be tares among the wheat:
for a time longer there shall be last and first, and a striving to be
greatest, and a laying up of earthly treasure, and wars and divisions;
but only for a time,—the spirit of service is growing, and the childlike
spirit will overcome:
“Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give
you the Kingdom.”
When realised, it will conduce to universal love and brotherhood; it is
the reign of Christ’s spirit in the hearts of all men; it is accordingly
spoken of as the second Advent, and its herald song is still, Peace on
earth, goodwill among men. Wherever perfect love and willing service
exist, there already is the Kingdom.
We have to realise that the Will of God is to be done on earth, that the
Kingdom of Heaven is to be a present Kingdom, here and now, not
relegated indefinitely to the future. Our life is not in the future, but
in the present, and it will always be in the present: it is in our life
that we have to apply our beliefs, utilise our talents, and bring forth
fruit. The Kingdom of Heaven is not only at hand, it is potentially in
our midst, and may be actually within us. These are its two chief
aspects, the social, and the individual. The ideal is to be made real,
in each and in all: nothing is too good to be true: each soul is to
attain its highest aim: the world is to be transfigured and transformed.
The above formula must not be supposed to exhaust the meaning of the
great Phrase, which many parables have still only partially explained,
but it is a part of its meaning. And the strange thing is that the
world, with all its competition, wrestling and contending amid unheeded
calls to order, is really working towards that goal. No other ending is
possible in the long run, though it has been long delayed. It is the
condition towards which the whole of humanity, each individual man, as
well as the race, is blindly and unconsciously struggling;
“Their prejudice and fears and cares and doubts
All with a touch of nobleness; despite
Their error, upward tending all, though weak,
Like plants in mines which never saw the sun,
But dream of him and guess where he may be,
And do their best to climb and get to him.”
The daily toil, in city office, in factory, in ship, in mine, in home,
is really a struggle for Life, for freedom, for joy, for something wider
and better than we at present know, for pleasures that satisfy and do
not pall. We needs must love the highest when we see it, but as yet we
do not see it: so we are working in the dark, and the best of us try
hard to do our duty. The end is unrecognised, the means may be mistaken,
but the energy is there; and the race as well as the individual is
instinctively working out its destiny;—thwarting itself constantly by
misdirected endeavour, yet constantly striving for self-development and
enlargement, for progress and happiness. And this is true even when the
main idea of enlargement is the amassing of money in unwieldy heaps,
when happiness is sought in an exaltation of imagination by deleterious
drugs, or when progress is thought to consist in the slaughter and
impoverishment of opponents who might be our auxiliaries and allies.
If our vision could be cleared, and the aim of human effort could be
changed, the earth would put on a new complexion; we should no longer be
tempted to think of humanity as of an ancient and effete and played-out
product of evolution,—we the latest-born and most youthful of all the
creatures on the planet,—but should regard everything with the eye of
hope, as of one new born, with senses quickened to perceive joys and
beauties hitherto undreamt of.
That is the meaning of Regeneration or new birth: it must be like an
awakening out of trance. At present we are as if subject to a dream
illusion, in a slumber which we are unable to throw off. Revelation
after revelation has come to us, but our senses are deadened and we will
not hear, our hands are full of clay, we have no grasp for ideals, we
are mistaking appearance for reality. But the time for awakening must be
drawing nigh—the time when again it may be said: “The people that walked
in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the
shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.”
Meanwhile our seers depict man’s half-hoping half-despairing attitude,
not so much as a striving, as a waiting:—the striving is obvious, but
the unconscious waiting is what they detect—waiting as it were for the
arrival of a new sense, a new perception of the value of life:—
“And we, the poor earth’s dying race, and yet
No phantoms, watching from a phantom shore
Await the last and largest sense to make
The phantom walls of this illusion fade,
And show us that the world is wholly fair.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CLAUSES OF THE CATECHISM REPEATED
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CATECHISM
_Q. 1. What are you?_