It is natural that the clerical profession should be an order by
itself. Every other calling is--the lawyer's, the physician's, the
artist's and the merchant's. There is an absurd notion that the clerical
profession stands alone; that it has a supernatural origin, which takes
it out of the circle of ordinary employments; that it is not to be
compared with other institutions of society. But the real dignity of the
profession consists in its filling its place among human arrangements. A
certain temperament too, seems to belong to all employments. There is
the legal temperament, the artistic, the dramatic, the mercantile. It is
no disadvantage that one prefers solitude, likes abstract thoughts, has
no taste for business enterprise, is fond of books and study. Indeed,
this is an advantage for one whose office it is to amass learning, to
weigh opinions in fine scales, to follow the spiritual laws, and to peer
into the mystery that surrounds human life. The very misunderstandings,
illusions, superstitions that gather around the calling may be
recommendations, inasmuch as they prevent the intrusion of rude minds,
and draw their attention towards subjects they would not otherwise be
interested in.
A certain amount of positiveness is necessary to ensure the worth of the
profession. The Catholic priest has no doubt whatever of the
providential establishment of the church in which he is a servant. This
must be beyond question or misgiving. This is taken for granted by
clergy and laity. All learning must be made to confirm it, all
observation is compelled to favor it. The laws of society must have
nothing to do with the kingdom of God; for society is to be redeemed,
nature is to be supplanted by grace, secular life must therefore be
excluded. The priest, such is the theory, dwells out of the world, and
is encouraged to do so. He is poor, celibate, homeless, has no
attachments, no affections, no terrestrial occupations. He must be to
all intents and purposes dead to mortal affairs. One may find fault with
earthly institutions; one is bound to find fault with them, but the
church must be beyond criticism and must be accepted as a gift from
heaven.
The Protestant clergyman holds fast by his doctrine of faith as by
divine appointment. His chief tenets must not be submitted to doubt.
Whatever he may reject, there remains something he is not tempted to
resign--namely, the presence of the Holy Spirit in his creed. Reason may
carry the outworks--ceremonies, ordinances, incidental points of
belief,--but the citadel is removed from assault. The world-spirit may
hover around him, envious, expectant, watchful, applauding his boldness,
cheering his progress towards negations, glad to see the gulf betwixt
him and the age gradually diminishing, and pressing into every vacant
position; society may claim interest in him more and more; but there are
points he must not yield, and which he merely wishes to bring into
prominence in surrendering others which he regards as secondary. So much
may be necessary, but religion must practically take its place among the
ideal pursuits of men and be exposed, as they are, to the full
examination of the mind before any fair account of it can be given. And
this cannot be so long as a region, however small, is shut off from
investigation by supernatural powers.
Moreover, it is the common impression that the office of the ministry
is detrimental to the best interest of humanity, because it establishes
another caste and thus destroys the unity that is so important in the
integrity of the world. By it the priest is a person set apart, hedged
about by the laws, held in peculiar reverence, habited in special
garments. Some kinds of entertainments, such as dancing, the drama, are
commonly forbidden to him. His presence on festive occasions used to be
regarded as a gracious intrusion. He was not expected to take part in
gayeties or to have any share in frivolities, which were much more
hilarious when he was absent and the restraint of his presence was
removed. He was thought to be somehow at war with nature, and his
looking on at merrymaking was regarded by the polite as a piece of
condescension on his part, an evidence of unusual liberality of
sentiment. It was but the other day that a young physician, belonging to
a Unitarian family, and himself an enthusiastic student of science,
praised a minister for excusing his continual absence from church on the
ground of his being so well employed. This was regarded as a long step
in the direction of indulgence towards natural inclination. Even among
rationalists, a symptom of the old idea appears in an expression of the
face, the manner of address, the walk, or the general bearing. It is
thought a great stretch of charity if he is kind to the atheist, the
materialist, the infidel; and to take in the tempted child of nature,
the drunkard, the victim of lust, avarice, is extreme good-will,
benevolence amounting to saintliness. To abolish from it the pretension
of superiority in the form of pity, as the high look upon the low, the
good upon the bad, the moral upon the immoral, the virtuous upon the
vicious, is, it is presumed, to overlook all recognized distinctions, to
enthrone nature, to accept instinct as a safe guide, to renounce
religion altogether and reject the saying that "the Christian church is
immortal because its fundamental dogma involves a doctrine of God in
nature so ample and clear as to satisfy every profoundest want of the
heart and every urgent demand of the head towards God forever."
There are distinctions enough among men at any rate, and to obliterate
them as far as possible is the office of true religion and all real
humanity; to increase love, to multiply the bonds of fraternity, to
bring mankind to a social equality, to annihilate all that keeps mortals
apart. Of course the safety of society must be preserved by laws,
customs, prejudices, but care should be taken to make these simply
protective in their function, and in no event should it be assumed that
such distinctions, however radical, have any absolute value or go beyond
the limits of this outward world. Save men, if you can, from
intemperance, violence, covetousness, lasciviousness, cowardice,
gluttony, laziness, from every vice that brutalizes them, renders them
objects of hate, fear, suspicion, or jealousy; make their circumstances
wholesome, their condition in life invigorating, but do it in the name
of enlightenment, do it as members of the human brotherhood, not as
members of a divine organization. Many ministers make great efforts to
exorcise this demon of exclusiveness, but the effort is too severe for
any but the few, and the success of it is of doubtful accomplishment.
The Christian minister is a representative of humanity, pure and
simple, without recognition of its division into classes. He is neither
rich nor poor, high nor low, in society nor out of it, elevated nor
obscure. He is democratic, the friend of everybody, the servant of all,
on terms of charity and sincerity with all men. Sectarianism, with its
manifold evils of violence, malignity, hatred, misrepresentation, is a
standing evidence of the harm done to society by a priesthood, whether
Catholic or Protestant, and ministers who have labored to overthrow its
influence as being fatal to charity have been obliged to fight against
the spirit of party, and to rely more upon their natural disposition
than upon their professional training. In this respect the laity have
been in advance of their so-called leaders. The people have always been
opposed to dogmatical exclusiveness, and have welcomed every sign of
generosity towards unbelievers. They have followed their instinct of
sympathy, they have read the New Testament by the light of their human
feeling, and setting common-sense against doctrinal narrowness, have
rejoiced at every victory gained over intolerance. They have been
friends of brotherhood; they have adopted the cause of liberty; and I
must own with grief, the foes they have had to contend with have been,
in too many instances, the ministers who would not see that charity was
before faith.
Everybody must have observed the unanimity and the persistency with
which ministers of all denominations and of all ages have devoted
themselves to the rich. In fact the devotion is so conspicuous that it
is one of the commonplace criticisms on the profession. People in
general assume that this kind of adulation, amounting often to toadyism,
is characteristic of the clerical calling, so inseparable from it indeed
that the majority of men are incredulous as to any departure from it,
and look with unfeigned admiration, when there are no reasons for
distrust, on the minister who knows no distinction of persons or
conditions, but has regard to intellectual or spiritual considerations
alone. Such a man is viewed as a wonder, an exception to all rules,
singularly constituted, either extraordinarily humane or extraordinarily
obtuse, either more or less than a man. The worship of wealth is so
common that some explanation of it must be given. The sufferings,
mishaps, troubles of the rich are reputed to be more serious than they
are in the ordinary run of cases; their disappointments are more
pitiable, their crosses heavier, their losses severer, their sorrows a
graver imputation on Providence. They are looked on as the favorites of
heaven, and the cotton-wool in which they are wrapped is spoken of as
the provision that is made for them expressly by the Lord.
This may be accounted for on grounds of material convenience. They who
have money are of great importance, and that they should be interested
in church affairs is of immense moment to all concerned, not to the
ministers alone, but to the entire congregation, nay, to the whole
community of believing men. There is always need of money, to build
churches, pay officials, hire singers, furnish ornaments, support
charities, maintain organizations for various ecclesiastical purposes;
and it is much easier to get this in larger sums and with little
trouble, than to obtain it in little driblets, with much pain, great
expenditure of time, and constant vexation of spirit. The minister, from
the nature of the case, is chargeable with this concern, which obliges
him to visit frequently the wealthier members of his sect. To this end
he must keep on good terms with them, must sit at their tables, eat
their dinners, drink their wine, praise their pictures, compliment their
tastes, commend their performances, flatter their self-esteem, admire
their surroundings, take their side in controversy; and all such conduct
is set down by kindly, thoughtful people, to the account of prudence
which is more than pardonable in one situated as he is.
This is quite true, but it is not the whole truth. By implication
already, the duty of cultivating the rich as donors involves the
qualities of manhood to an indefinite extent. The line of necessary
courtesy is not decisively drawn; cannot be drawn by the rules of
etiquette. This must be the result of a trained experience, of a
delicacy and sensitiveness, of a pride of selfhood, of a loftiness or
dignity of mind that are hardly to be looked for in any large class of
human beings, however free from special temptation or particular
seductions that may be. The influence of luxury, ease, comfort,
elegance, is very insidious, so that even an unusual zeal for truth, an
extraordinary passion for excellence, yields to the power of moral
indifference, of intellectual superficialness, which is characteristic
of those who do not do battle with circumstances. It is so much easier
to do nothing than it is to do something; it is so charming to be
deferred to, to be looked up to, to be flattered, to have one's opinion
sought without being involved in discussion, or vexed by opposition, or
confronted with scepticism; it is so delightful to the natural man to
sit in an easy cushioned chair, and be treated with delicate courtesy
and dainty refinement as an authority on matters theological,
philosophical, literary, instead of being put on the defensive by keen
questioners who submit awkward problems for immediate solution; it is so
gratifying to one's self-esteem to be received as a superior being, that
ordinary human nature generally succumbs to the temptation and finds
ready excuse for acquiescence in the necessity of being on good terms
with one's wealthier parishioners, and so securing their all important
good-will. In short, a fastidious kind of flunkeyism is engendered that
is quite inconsistent with the spiritual life. The rich become a refuge
as well as a resource, and the inner man is weakened while the outer man
is confirmed. A species of lethargy creeps over mind and conscience.
Even the moral purpose faints and languishes, and charity ceases to be
athletic, as elegance of form is substituted for pith of resolution. The
prophet is induced to say smooth things, to announce easy principles, to
gloze over hard interpretations, to keep out of sight unwelcomed truths;
and extraordinary courage is required of those who would resist this
tendency to complaisance. The rich are, from the nature of the case,
easily persuaded of the excellence of existing institutions, ideas,
observances. I had been in the pulpit five years before I saw Henry
James' remarkable lecture on "Property as a Symbol," and learned for the
first time that "Property symbolizes the perfect sovereignty which man
is destined to exercise over nature"; that "Property as an institution
of human society expresses or grows out of this instinct of sovereignty
in man. While this instinct is as yet misunderstood or unrecognized by
the individual, while its full issues are as yet unimagined by him,
society lends all her force to educate it under this form of an
aspiration after property, or a desire to appropriate to one's self,
land, houses, money, precious stones, and whatsoever else evidences
one's power over nature.... Thus the moral law is nothing more or less
than an affirmation of the sacredness of private property. It virtually
asserts an individuality in man superior to that conferred by his
nature.... Such is the temper of mind which God begets in him, to subdue
the whole realm of the outward and finite to himself, to the service of
his proper individuality, and so vindicate the truth of his infinite
origin.... The sole ground of our sovereignty over nature is inward,
consisting in a God-inspired selfhood, instinct with infinite power."
It would be comforting to believe that a felt consciousness of this
infinitude, however dim, animates the attachment of the clergyman to the
opulent of any congregation; but I, for one, must make the confession
that the fact of property was taken literally, that the ideal,
symbolical character of it was concealed, that the instinct of
sovereignty was unrecognized and unimaginable, and that the divine
intent was unsought for, the institution being held quite sufficient to
itself and needing no authentication beyond its existence. And such, I
apprehend, is the prevailing view among the clergy, whose worship of it
is not identical with the adoration of the Infinite.
One cannot undertake to speak with knowledge on a subject so complicated
as this is with private motives, personal temperaments, social
circumstances; but, as far as my memory goes, the clergy, as a class,
have been too much engaged with matters ecclesiastical to be deeply
interested in any cause of reform, and too timid to take the initiative
in any matter involving disagreeable relations with controlling powers.
While towards the rich the attitude of the clergy is one of allegiance,
towards the poor it has been one of patronage. This is a danger. "The
poor ye have always with you, and whenever ye will ye can do them good,"
expresses their doctrine of charity. As if the poor were created in
order that others might exercise beneficence; as if poverty was a
providential institution, maintained in the interest of religion! It is
hard in a so-called "Christian" community to get away from this view.
The modern scientific theory and the "Christian" theory are thus at war;
the former being intent on the well-being of society, the latter having
in mind the cultivation of the individual in tenderness of sympathy; the
former educating intelligence, the latter educating feeling. Still there
was charity.
The Catholic Church, to say nothing here of any ecclesiastical purpose
in keeping masses of men and women out of the world, gathered those who
could not help themselves into great buildings and took care of them. In
the Protestant Church the care of the poor has been held to be a
religious duty, and a large part of the efforts of Christian ministers
is directed to the fostering of pity and generosity in the hearts of the
wealthy. To give to those who had nothing was reckoned the chief of
graces, and "charity"--interpreted as love for those in want--was placed
above "faith" and "hope," even when money alone was given. Not long ago
a Unitarian minister exhorted his congregation to set apart for the uses
of the poor one tenth part of their annual income, and doubtless he had
the consciences of nearly all his hearers with him, for the monstrous
proposition has been so often asserted as to seem by this time a
commonplace. Probably no man living does that or ever did, and the
practice of it on a large scale would pauperize the community. Think of
it! Five thousand dollars a year is not a great income, yet if every one
who had as much bestowed a tenth part of it on charitable objects what a
fund for human demoralization would be raised! And when the income is
ten thousand, fifteen thousand, twenty thousand, the amount of
imbecility created would be indescribable; inertia would be frightfully
increased, and multitudes would sit with folded hands who otherwise
would have lifted them to do some honest work. A moral lethargy would
fall on the toiling masses; wealth-producing labor would shrink to
narrower and narrower limits, and a paralysis of energy would steal over
the will of those whose need of resolution is the sorest. Wealth would
consequently decrease, and the number of the givers get smaller and
smaller until accumulation, which is the life of the modern world as
distinguished from the ancient, would be blighted. The industrial
classes would be reduced to servitude, enormous fortunes would be
gathered by fraud, speculation, cruelty, and progressive society would
relapse into sterility. Fortunately the minister could not persuade
people to adopt this fatal policy. Fortunately, in this particular,
niggardliness went hand in hand with common-sense.
That the churches, under the lead of the ministers, have done a vast
deal in the direction of charity, so far from being denied or disputed,
is cordially allowed and even maintained. Indeed, this has been their
chief function, and they have discharged it with immense zeal and
astonishing results.
But that it was an "ideal" profession is, as I said, a recommendation
to the ministry. It is a broad foundation for spiritual-mindedness, for
unworldliness. True, the habit of dealing with abstract topics, of
holding commerce with purely speculative themes, of entertaining mere
theories which cannot be verified, of going back to what are called
"first principles," imparts a curiously vague, dreamy, impersonal,
impalpable character to the minister's intellect, rendering it unfit to
treat concrete questions of life or morals; for this reason he is not
often successful as a man of business, a practical politician, a manager
of affairs, his cast of mind disqualifying him for close consideration
of details.
The duty of answering unanswerable questions, too, of solving problems
that are insoluble, of replying positively to what, from the nature of
things, he cannot know, gives him a kind of ingenuity which is not
genuine insight, but consists in subtle turnings, windings, in making
fine distinctions and splitting hairs, and inventing ingenious
interpretations, rather than in keen insight or straightforward
analysis. He must seek ways of escape from his pursuers, and, when no
other offers, hide in the thicket of mystery or run up the tree of
faith. He must, if possible, have an explanation ready, and, if he has
none, he must fall back on authority, and be impressive, addressing the
sentiment of awe which is usually alive in every bosom, or, in the last
resort, asseverating the truth of revelation, and thus silencing the
debate he cannot continue. If neither conscience is satisfied, his own
or his interlocutor's, there is no remedy save in submission. He makes
no attempt to clear up his conceptions, or, if he does, ends at last in
vacuity or discontent. His neighbor, unconvinced, concludes that this is
a clerical subterfuge, and so far loses confidence in a profession he
cannot understand. Probably he does not do it justice, but the effect is
the same,--a rooted depreciation such as would not be felt towards a
layman who simply said that he had no answer.
The minister, also, is generally committed to a conception of the
universe as a product of the Supreme Will which, makes him an apologist.
He is, after a fashion, in the secret of God. He is supposed to deliver
messages and to utter oracles. His is the wisdom of the Eternal. His is
the Bible. His are the testimonies. He must follow the ways of the
Spirit and defend the divine economy in the constitution of the world.
But in each case, every allowance being made for indefiniteness, for
largeness of statement and broadness of exposition, the minister must be
a champion of the Infinite Wisdom and Goodness, pledged to maintain it
against all opponents; and however cordially he may choose that part,
the consciousness of being bound may act as a fretting annoyance, not to
say a galling restraint.
A singular dogmatism often accompanies this claim to speak in the name
of the Almighty; the minister must enunciate truths, not deliver
opinions. An authoritative tone gets into his voice, pervades his
manner, affects his whole expression of face, is conveyed by his gait
and walk, so that he is known at once from afar. Men hush their voices
in his presence, ventilate thoughts not natural to them, conceal their
actual sentiments, from a feeling that he is to be deferred to, not
argued with like another man. The tone of the pulpit animates his
conversation and works into the very structure of his thought. He is
always a preacher. The atmosphere of Sunday hangs about him. He carries
the New Testament into the parlor; unconsciously to himself he uses the
language of authority, and finds to his mortification that he is angered
by dispute.
The duty of administering consolation to the afflicted adds to this
visionary frame of mind. Frequent intercourse with the suffering, sad,
and bereaved, intimate commerce with sick-beds and graves, besides
creating ghostly dispositions, deepens his cast of thought. To comfort
people under disappointments, to smooth the rugged path, to quiet the
perturbed heart, is a business to discharge which all the resources of
faith are called into requisition, and any means that will accomplish
the end in view are considered as justifiable. In the effort to find
comfortable things to say, the temptation to say pleasant things, easy
things, amiable things, to present the kindly aspect of Providence, and
to indulge happy fancies in regard to human allotments and destiny, is
exceedingly strong; so that one may come at last to believe himself what
gives so much contentment to others in the severe crises of existence.
The loving heart is in perilous proximity to the thinking head. All the
sweetest feelings of our nature, the wish to console people, to make
them patient, trusting, resigned, cheerful, are brought in to reinforce
the faith in a benignant purpose on the part of the Creator, and an
unquestioning disposition is encouraged in the spiritual physician as
well as in the stricken patient.
Mr. Henry James says ("Substance and Shadow," p. 214): "Protestant men
and women, those who have any official or social consequence in the
church, are apt to exhibit a high-flown religious pride, a spiritual
flatulence and sourness of stomach which you do not find under the
Catholic administration." This is strong language, but not too strong
considering the author's abhorrence of exclusiveness, separation,
Pharisaism, and his identification of this with official religion.
If humility is the base of all the virtues, as it is commonly reported,
then a profession that directly favors pride is not productive of the
highest type of character. And if love,--kindness, brotherhood,
fellowship,--is the fulfilment of the law, then a calling that puts
desire in conflict with duty is not conducive to unity or peace, whether
in the private mind or in the collective household. Character, as
_naturally_ interpreted, consists of an innate superiority to one's
fellow-men in the qualities that glorify humanity, purity,
heavenly-mindedness, patience, earnestness, truthfulness, sincerity.
Character, as _spiritually_ interpreted, consists of the cordial
affiliation with one's fellow-men in the qualities that unite the atoms
of humanity in love, compassion, humility, forgiveness, sympathy. But
the higher view has not prevailed in my experience; let me repeat, in
the most emphatic language at my command, my conviction that ministers
as a body do not succumb to the temptations thus apparently incident to
their profession.
It is commonly supposed that the intellectual part of the minister's
labor--the making of the sermons--is most severe. It is imagined that
the task of addressing the same audience every Sunday must be
exceedingly arduous. This is a mistake. There is a facility of work in
every profession. The mind becomes accustomed to running in certain
grooves, to going through the same process of thinking, to applying the
same rules to many details of practice. The longer one's continuance in
the ministry, the easier this becomes. Experience accumulates. Themes
multiply. Novel suggestions occur. New thoughts arise. Fresh books are
written. Singular questions are proposed. Problems present fresh
aspects. The old interests remain in all their force. Men never tire
hearing about God, Immortality, Destiny. In truth, the intellectual
difficulties become less and less appalling until at last they
disappear. The real effort is to keep alive the feelings of humanity; to
overcome the inclination towards separation into classes; to avoid
distinguishing between persons; to keep love glowing; to maintain the
supremacy of soul; to identify spirituality with custom. The preaching
is subordinate not to the private practice alone, but to the religious
attitude towards mankind, which is conditioned on charity and the
recognition of human worth and sonship. The most beautiful trait in the
pastor is his universality, his simple, unaffected manhood.
But enough of criticism. It is a privilege to belong to a profession
occupied with things ethereal; to be interested in the grandest themes;
to hold intercourse with the loftiest minds; to live aloof from the
world; to put the happiest constructions on the events of human life; to
interpret Providence beneficently. And it is my firm persuasion that in
proportion as the profession throws off the thraldom of ecclesiasticism
and dogmatism, it increases in power and is sure to recover its ancient
superiority.