The progress of mind is continuous. Strictly speaking, there are no
periods of transition, no crises in thought. The history of ideas
presents no gap. Every stage begins and ends an epoch. One is often
reminded of the common notion that the year begins and ends at a
particular moment. Every day begins and ends a year; every hour is
equally sacred. Yet solemn thought, worship, self-examination, are
precious, and these can be secured only by the observance of times and
seasons; so that we fall on our knees and pray when the old year ends
and the new one begins.
So, as a point of time must be fixed upon, we will begin with Thomas
Paine. It is not easy to speak fully and justly of Paine, because in so
doing we must speak of the misapprehensions and mis-statements of which
he has been the victim; and even if we refute these, the bare mention of
them leaves a stain on his fame. No doubt his method--application of
common-sense to religion--was essentially vicious. Common-sense is an
admirable quality in practical affairs, quite indispensable in the
management of business of all kinds, but it has no place in the
discussion of works of the higher imagination--of poetry, art, music, or
faith. But such was the man's genius, such was the demand of his age. It
is easy to speak of his ignorance, his coarseness, his impudence, his
vanity; but it must be remembered that his education was very imperfect,
for he was utterly ignorant of any language but his own, and he did not,
apparently, read even the English deists; that he was a man of the
people; that he lived in an age of revolutions; that he stood for the
rights of common humanity. It must be remembered also that, in the first
place, he brought the human mind face to face with problems which had
been appropriated by a special class that considered itself exempt from
criticism. In the next place he was in dead earnest; not attacking the
Bible or religion out of flippancy or brutality, but because he really
hated the interpretations that were usually given of sacred things; his
attack was against orthodoxy, not against faith. "His blasphemy," says
Leslie Stephen, "was not against the Supreme God, but against Jehovah.
He was vindicating the ruler of the universe from the imputations which
believers in literal inspiration and dogmatical theology had heaped upon
him under the disguise of homage. He was denying that the God before
whom reasonable creatures should bow in reverence could be the
supernatural tyrant of priestly imagination, who was responsible for
Jewish massacres, who favored a petty clan at the expense of his other
creatures, who punished the innocent for the guilty, who lighted the
fires of everlasting torment for the masses of mankind, and who gave a
monopoly of his favor to priests or a few favored enthusiasts. Paine, in
short, with all his brutality, had the conscience of his hearers on his
side, and we must prefer his rough exposure of popular errors to the
unconscious blasphemy of his supporters." Then Paine _did love his
kind;_ he abhorred cruelty, and desired, after his fashion, to elevate
his race.
Examples of this are numerous. At the time when the "Common Sense" and
"Crisis" were having an enormous sale, the demand for the former
reaching not less than one hundred thousand copies, and both together
offering to the author profits that would have made him rich, Paine
freely gave the copyright to every State in the Union. In his period of
public favor and of intimate friendship with the founders of the
government, Paine declined to accept any place or office of emolument,
saying: "I must be in everything, as I have ever been, a disinterested
volunteer. My proper sphere of action is on the common floor of
citizenship, and to honest men I give my hand and heart freely." The
State of Virginia made a large claim on the general government for
lands. Thomas Paine opposed the claim as unreasonable and unjust, though
at that very time there was a resolution before the legislature of
Virginia to appropriate to him a handsome sum of money for services
rendered. In 1797, Paine was the chief promoter of the society of
"Theophilanthropists," whose object was the extinction of religious
prejudices, the maintenance of morality, and the diffusion of faith in
one God. "It is want of feeling," says this _heartless blasphemer_, "to
talk of priests and bells, while infants are perishing in hospitals, and
the aged and infirm poor are dying in the streets." In 1774, Paine
published in the _Pennsylvania Journal_, a strong, anti-slavery essay.
While clerk in the Pennsylvania Legislature he made an appeal in behalf
of the army, then in extreme distress, and subscribed his entire salary
for the year to the fund that was raised. Towards the close of his life,
he devised a plan for imposing a special tax on all deceased persons'
estates, to create a fund from which all, on reaching twenty-one years,
should receive a sum to establish them in business, and in order that
all who were in the decline of life should be saved from destitution. It
is not generally known that Paine often preached on Sunday afternoons at
New Rochelle. In England he spoke in early life from Dissenting pulpits,
and to him we owe this exquisite definition of religion: "It is man
bringing to his Maker the fruits of his heart." All this is evidence
that honorable considerations were at the bottom of his own belief. He
was, according to his view, the friend of man, and in this interest
wrote his books. He introduced kindness into religion.
He certainly repeated the ideas of Collins and Toland, and the
conceptions that were floating in the air, breathed by Voltaire and
Diderot; but he did give them voice. The English deists were dead, and
would have continued so but for him. He was essentially a pamphleteer,
the master of a very rich, simple style that went directly to the hearts
of the people. His best performances were unquestionably political, but
all his works were marked by the same peculiarities. His mistake was in
supposing that the power that could animate an army could pull down a
church.
Paine was no saint, but he was no sinner above all that dwelt in
Jerusalem. He drank too much; he took too much snuff; he was vulgar; he
was a vehement man in a vehement age; he went to dinner in his
dressing-gown; and he certainly did not bring his best convictions to
bear on his private character; but he did wake up minds that had been
dumb or oppressed before. The "Age of Reason" went everywhere, into
holes and corners, among back-woodsmen and pioneers, and did more
execution among plain moral men than many a book that was more worthy of
acceptance. It is a pity that his disciples should be content with
repeating his denials, instead of building on the rational foundations
which he laid. For instance, they might, while adding to his criticism
of the Scriptures, have shown their high moral bearing and their
spiritual glow. They might have carried out further his "enthusiasm for
humanity," showing that man had more in him than Paine suspected. They
might have justified by more scientific reasons his belief in God and in
immortality. They might have been truly rationalists as he wanted to be,
but could not be at that period. But they were satisfied with saying
over and over again what he said as well as he could, but not as well as
they can. He was simply a precursor, but he was a precursor of such men
as Colenso and Robertson Smith, and a large host of scholars beside.
Paine's best exponent in America is perhaps Robert G. Ingersoll. He is a
sort of transfigured Paine. He has all Paine's power over the masses,
being perhaps the most eloquent man in America; more than Paine's wit;
more than Paine's earnestness; more than Paine's love of humanity; more
than Paine's scorn of deceit and harshness,--for he extends his
abhorrence of cruelty even to dumb beasts. He has great power of
sympathy, a tender feeling for misery of all kinds. He is a poet, as is
evident from these words:
We do not know whether the grave is the end of this life or the
door of another, or whether the night here is somewhere else a
dawn. The idea of Immortality, that like a sea has ebbed and flowed
into the human heart with its countless waves beating against the
shores and rocks of time and faith, was not born of any book or of
any creed or of any religion. It was born of human affection, and
it will continue to ebb and flow beneath the mists and clouds of
doubt and darkness as long as love kisses the lips of death. It is
the rainbow, Hope, shining upon the tears of grief.
Paine's simple childlike belief in God and Immortality, Ingersoll
remands to the cloudy sphere of agnosticism, as Paine probably would
now; but it is my opinion that if evidence which he regarded as
satisfactory--that is, legal evidence--could be given, he, too, would
accept these articles; for he has none of the elements of the bigot
about him. His detestation is simply of hell and a priesthood; for pure,
spiritual religion, he has only respect. Like Paine, he attacks the
ecclesiasticism and theology of the day, and is satisfied with doing
that; and, like Paine, he has convictions instead of opinions, and his
character is all aflame with his ideas.
In his private life, in his family relations, in his public career,
there is no reproach on his name--nothing that he need be ashamed of.
Mr. Ingersoll does not worship the Infinite under any recognized form or
name, but that he adores the _substance of deity_ is beyond all doubt;
he worships truth and purity and sincerity and love,--everything that is
highest and noblest in human life. One word more I must say,--that his
motive is essentially religious. It is his aim to lift off the burden of
superstition and priestcraft; to elevate the soul of manhood and
womanhood; to promote rational progress in goodness; to emancipate every
possibility of power in the race; and this is the aim of every pure
religion,--to open new spheres of hope and accomplishment.
The disintegration of the popular orthodoxy goes on very fast, and
always under the influence of the moral sentiment. This is very prettily
put by Miss Jewett, in one of her short stories, entitled "The Town
Poor." Two ladies, jogging along a country road, fall to talking about
an old meeting-house which is being _improved_ after the modern fashion.
One of them laments the loss of the ancient pews and pulpit, and the
substitution of a modern platform and slips. The other says:
When I think of them old sermons that used to be preached in that
old meeting-house, I am glad it is altered over so as not to remind
folks. Them old brimstone discourses! you know preachers is far
more reasonable now-a-days. Why, I sat an' thought last Sabbath as
I listened, that if old Mr. Longbrother and Deacon Bray could hear
the difference, they'd crack the ground over 'em like pole beans,
and come right up 'long side their headstones.
In Chicago, some years ago, orthodox preachers begged a pronounced
radical to stay and help them fight the matter out on the inside; and a
minister of one of the principal churches there distinctly said that he
did not believe in the infallibility of the Bible or an everlasting
punishment. A Congregational minister in Connecticut expressed himself
as thoroughly in sympathy with the advanced party in theology. An
orthodox clergyman in New England declared that he did not know of an
orthodox minister in the whole range of his acquaintance who believed in
the old doctrine. A minister in Rhode Island, who occupied a high
position in the orthodox church, while declining to make an open
statement on account of social and political reasons, avowed his
willingness to write a private letter disclaiming all belief in the
accepted views. The Rev. Howard MacQueary, the Episcopal rector of
Canton, Ohio, who has recently published a book, entitled the "Evolution
of Man and Christianity," has been convicted of heresy against his own
protest and the popular sentiment. The successor of Henry Ward Beecher,
in Brooklyn, N. Y., recently published the essentials of his creed.
There is no fall in it, no trinity, no miracle in the old sense, no
eternal punishment. He declares, frankly, that there is no difference
_in kind_ between man, Jesus, and God, but only a difference _in
degree_. The same man recently preached in King's Chapel, and lectured
in Channing Hall. The Andover controversy distinctly reveals the decay
of the ancient theology. In England dissent has gone very far, as is
evident from a book called "The Kernel and the Husk," written by the
Rev. Dr. E. A. Abbott, the author of the article on "The Gospels," in
the last edition of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." In this article the
fall is repudiated, the trinity, miracles, the virgin birth, the
physical resurrection of Jesus, and eternal punishment; yet even his
bishop has not rebuked him. Yes, the moral sentiment is certainly coming
to its rights.
Of Unitarianism, after what has been said, it is unnecessary to speak.
That there should be a difference between the East and the West is
natural. The East holds fast, in large sense, to the ancient theological
traditions. The West never had them, and can therefore declare that its
fellowship is conditioned on no doctrinal tests, and can welcome all who
wish to establish truth and righteousness and love in the world. The
West will ultimately prevail; the temper of the East is rapidly wasting
away, and the breach will soon be closed up. The new Unitarian churches
will be founded on a practical basis, the only requirement being that
the minister should be deeply in earnest about religious things. The
characteristic of all churches, of whatever name, is an urgent interest
in social reform, a deep concern for the disfranchised and oppressed,
and a warm feeling towards the elevation of mankind. The universal
prayer is, to borrow the pithy language of Dr. F. H. Hedge: "May Thy
kingdom come on earth!" not "May we come into Thy kingdom."
If it was hard to do full justice to Thomas Paine, it is harder to do
full justice to the Broad Churchman. There is no authoritative account
of his position to which appeal can be made, and the great variety of
opinion on incidental points makes it difficult to frame any description
which the leaders would accept. A great deal depends on the change of
circumstances, the ruling spirit of the time, the prevailing tendencies
of thought in the period,--whether scientific, critical, or social,--and
a great deal depends, too, on the peculiarities of individual
temperament, but the fundamental doctrines are the same. The ordinary
observer can see the largeness, sympathy, inclusiveness, devotion to
actual needs. But the ordinary observer cannot see the real basis of
faith in human nature; the manifestation of the Divine Being in the
highest possibilities of man; the trust in a living, active,
communicating God.
These are cardinal points, and must be insisted on. The inherent
depravity of man; his essential corruption; his absolute inability to
receive any portion of the divine life, is naturally repudiated. But his
feebleness, crudeness, imperfection, his dearth and deficiency, his
sensuality, hardness, love of material things, is insisted on, and
cannot be exaggerated. Still there is a germ of the divine nature in
him, a spark of the divine flame which can be kindled. The familiar
language of Longfellow expresses this idea exactly:
"Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple,
Who have faith in God and Nature,
Who believe that in all ages
Every human heart is human,
That in even savage bosoms
There are longings, yearnings, strivings
For the good they comprehend not,
That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness,
Touch God's right hand in that darkness
And are lifted up and strengthened:--
Listen to this simple story."
To this nature, thus receptive, God addresses Himself. He is the
Father, the absolute Love, and his desire is to lead men upward towards
the height of divine perfection. In all ages, in every way, he has been
trying to do this; and all nature, all art, all literature is full of
this affection for his child. Even the Pagan myths express this striving
of God with man. The existence of what we call evil is assumed, but
there is no attempt to explain it or theorize about it or reconcile it
with any mode of philosophy. To us it may be simply the divine effort to
startle the soul into a consciousness of itself. Even the worst forms of
doubt, of denial, of atheism may be parts of this divine effort; even
men like Strauss and Feuerbach may be witnesses for truth, because they
drive men back in horror from the pit of disbelief, and compel them to
take refuge through tears and prayers in the supreme love. Of absolute
evil we cannot be sure that there is any; so many ways must the infinite
spirit have to awaken men to a sense of their own destiny.
I cannot better convey my thought than by recounting the essence of two
sermons that I heard some years ago from eminent preachers in different
American cities; the first was on the death of Charles Darwin. After a
very ornate service, the minister dwelt enthusiastically on the merits
of Darwin as a philosopher, described his system, and declared that his
own belief in the Deity of Christ, was confirmed in large measure by
Darwin's theory of the Selection of the Fittest. The statement was
startling at first, for the two doctrines seemed to point in opposite
directions, but the speaker probably meant that the Christ expressed all
the potentialities of human nature; that he was the Fittest; not a
miracle, not an exception to humanity, but the perfection of man; in
other words, a divine person. The other sermon turned on the murder of
Sisera (Judges iv, 18), as contrasted with a statement in the first
epistle of John (iv, 8), "God is love." The rector spoke of the
assassination of Sisera in terms of extreme abhorrence; called it
treacherous, cruel, base, and then said: "See what progress the human
mind has made from this period to that when John was written." The
common impression is that the _human_ mind had nothing to do with it, it
being the _divine_ mind that was alone in question. But what the
preacher meant was evidently this,--either that the divine mind dropped
thoughts into the human mind as fast as they could be appreciated, or
that the human mind, imperfect in development, apprehended all that it
could of the perfect mind. Whichever case we assume, the integrity of
the divine mind is secured, and at the same time the growth of the
human.
At this point, the conception of the Broad Churchman's idea of the
inspiration of the Scripture must be dwelt upon, for the doctrine is
very remarkable, and throws a flood of light upon his whole conception
of the aim and purpose of Christianity. According to the common notion,
the Bible is literally the word of God, and men have nothing to do but
to submit themselves to its authority. They must suppress all natural
desires, all dictates of their moral sense, to this supreme standard of
truth and rectitude. According to this notion, the whole of man, as a
thoroughly corrupted being, is _subject_, in obedience to this law. The
second theory, adopted by the American Broad Churchman, holds that the
Bible _contains_ the word of God; and this implies that there may be a
part of the Bible that is not the word of God, and opens the way to an
indefinite amount of criticism, speculation, and doubt. The English
Broad Churchman holds, as I understand it, the common doctrine, but with
this immense difference. That whereas, according to the common notion,
the Bible is the word of God, he maintains that the whole object of the
Bible is to educate and uplift man. The word is a minister to human
needs. Through it, God is trying in various ways, by history, biography,
tale, and song, to warn, persuade, teach, inspire the human soul.
Sometimes he can do nothing but startle, shame, provoke; and the very
things we find fault with may be designed for moral education. The
Bible, itself, encourages this idea. Does not Paul preach
reconciliation? Does not John speak of God as love? God hardened the
heart of Pharaoh in order that he might show that He was stronger than
Pharaoh. Jacob was not altogether a lovely character, but the Lord
wrestled with him and lamed him, thus showing his own disapproval of the
patriarch's temper. David was a seducer, adulterer, and murderer, but he
_repented_, was ashamed, was sorrowful, and this repentance made him a
man after God's own heart. It was not that God _approved_ of his
conduct, but that he wanted to make us _disapprove_ of it. In like
manner Luther based his faith on the Bible, because it convicted him of
sin, and drove him to seek refuge for himself in Christ. The Church as
an organization has always this one purpose in view--to minister to the
soul of man. The "Articles" fairly throbbed with this conception. The
outrage committed by the "Evangelicals," men who insist upon everlasting
punishment and talk of doom, consists in their overlooking this divine
purpose towards humanity.
The _doctrines_ of the Church--the Deity of Christ, the Incarnation, the
Resurrection, the Ascension--bear this testimony, and are inexplicable
without it. But these doctrines simply convey one thought. The Christ
must be God, otherwise he could not exemplify the perfect love; he must
be Incarnate, otherwise he could not mingle with men. His Resurrection
teaches his absolute triumph over death; his Ascension is a pledge of
his union with God and his perpetual intercourse with God's children.
The two _rites_, Baptism and Communion, give the same idea. Baptism
imports a recognition of the duty to lead a Christian life; and
Communion imports a wish, on the part of all who partake of it, to enter
into the privilege of a perfect harmony with Christ. None of these
points are reached by criticism, or any array of texts, though passages
may be cited in confirmation of them. But the proof is derived from
experience, from the felt need of enlightenment and inspiration, from
prayer and the yearning after eternal life. No doubt it is taken for
granted that neither the Bible nor the Church expresses the _whole_ word
of God. The word is as large as the divine love, and this is infinite.
The complete word of God includes all nature, all history, and all life.
It will be understood that the Broad Church notion is only a theory and
rests entirely on its reasonableness. It is simply a modification of
Episcopalianism, and none but an Episcopalian would be likely to adopt
it. Its interest for us consists in its _human_ character, in its
earnestness for social reform, in its passionate desire to make
conscience and justice and freedom of the Spirit supreme in all human
affairs. It is essentially an ethical system with an ecclesiastical
addition and a heavenly purpose.
There is certainly a great difference between the Broad Church in
America and the Broad Church in England; there are no Thirty-Nine
Articles in this country; there is no National Church. The Broad
Churchman here is still a Churchman, but the system is much more elastic
and much more intellectual. The Church is to him also a divine
institution, but not a final establishment; and it becomes divine by
virtue of its helpfulness in imparting the divine life and its power of
human service. The sacraments have become symbols, venerable from their
antiquity, but more venerable from their use. The Broad Churchman is an
orthodox believer, but he accepts only the simplest creeds, and he
interprets them in accordance with the rational principles of thought,
and with his fundamental conception of Christianity, holding not to the
written letter, but to the real meaning of the Confession. This meaning
is, he maintains, easily reconcilable with the idea that all revelation
is made to a living mind,--whether that of a race or an individual,--and
that the Bible is merely the record of it. No _book_, in his estimation,
can be inspired. This, coupled with a belief in the unlimited progress
of the natural conscience, brings the system within the category of
modern arrangements.
The idea that man is _developed_ into the divine life, not _converted_
to it, seems to be the heart of the system. The writings of F. D.
Maurice are full of it. He said that he did not know what the Broad
Church was, and disclaimed any position in it; yet he is its reputed
father, and certainly held its cardinal doctrine. This was the soul of
his teaching; this dictated his likes and his dislikes; this animated
his dissent from the Evangelicals on the one hand and the Rationalists
on the other; this made him cling to the "Articles"; this made him love
the Church. I cannot better convey my notion of the Broad Churchman's
credence than by quoting some passages from Maurice:
I think that the _ground-work of this thought_ and this humanity
_is laid bare_ in the Thirty-nine Articles; _that for that
ground-work_ [namely, the living God, the living Word] all our
different schools are trying to produce feeble and crumbling
substitutes; that we must recur to it if we would pass the narrow
dimensions of Calvinism, Anglicanism, Romanism; if we would learn
what a message we have for Jews, Mahometans, Brahmins, Buddhists,
for all the nations of the earth, as well as our poor people at
home.
I cannot doubt that this belief [the confession of a God, who was,
and is, and is to come] is latent in every man now; that we are all
living, moving, having our being in this God, and that He does
reveal Himself to His creatures gradually, before He is revealed in
His fulness of glory.
I do perceive that if I have any work in the world, it is to bear
witness of this name [the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost], not as expressing certain relations, however profound, in
the divine nature, but as the underground of all fellowship among
men and angels, as that which will at last bind all into one,
satisfying all the craving of the reason as well as of the heart,
meeting the desires and intuitions that are scattered through all
the religions of the world.
The Church must either fulfil its witness of the redemption for
mankind or be cut off. And I cannot help thinking that a time is at
hand when we shall awaken to this conviction, and when we shall
perceive that what we call our individual salvation means nothing,
and that our faith in it becomes untenable when we separate it from
the salvation which Christ wrought out for the world by His
incarnation and sacrifice, resurrection and ascension.
He has been pleased to reveal to me in His Son the brightness of
His glory, His absolute love. On that point I have a right to be
certain; he who says I have not, rejects the Bible and disbelieves
the incarnation of the Lord. I will not give up an inch of this
ground; it is a matter of life and death.
By baptism we claim the position which Christ has claimed for all
mankind.... More and more I am led to ask myself what a Gospel to
mankind must be, whether it must not have some other ground than
the fall of Adam and the sinful nature of man.... No doctrine can
be so at variance as this, with the notion that it is a Gospel
which men have need of, and in their inmost hearts are craving for.
Why is not this system sufficient? Simply because the claim that Christ
is God, does not seem made out to severely critical minds. Such as these
must hold even the Broad Church to be a mythology, beautiful and
innocent, but still a mythology. The word "mythology" implies no
disparagement. A mythology is simply the poetical form of an idea, and
takes its character from the nature of the ideas it represents. The
pagan mythology is on this account very different from the Christian,
and a mythology that has universal love as its basis may well be called
innocent and beautiful. To the doctrine of trinity, philosophically
considered, even Unitarian scholars make no objection. What they cannot
accept is the deity of Jesus as an historical person. The Christ is not,
in their opinion, an historical person, but a doctrine, not identical
with the man of the New Testament. The Divine Being has never, in their
estimation, appeared on earth. They only who can put aside criticism,
can suppress it, can regard it but as one of many manifestations of
mind, can fix their eyes on a church for society at large and not for
individuals, will be likely to accept it, and they will on the ground
that it is altogether human, a church for mankind.
The last phase in the development of the moral sentiment is represented
by the "Ethical Societies." It is natural that the origin of these
should be Jewish, for the Jews are unencumbered by the mysteries of the
Christian theology; their genius is for social organization, and the
moral element is very large in their religion. It is natural, too, that
the system should be purer here than in England. Some of the members of
the "Cambridge Ethical Society" are members of the Church of England,
and have to be warned not to set themselves needlessly in opposition to
the work of the Christian churches. The "Edinburgh Ethical Club" is
mainly a debating society. In America it is usual to have a lecturer,
and stated services on Sunday. But these services are very simple, nay,
even bare; there is no prayer, and no scripture, no architecture or art
or poetry; but there is an intense earnestness, nay, enthusiasm, for
social reform. There are kindergartens for the poor children of the
streets, there are classes for the untaught, libraries for the
workingmen, plans for better lodging and employment for the families of
artisans. There is no fixed doctrine in regard to the origin of the
moral sentiments, lest any should be alienated; the object being to
combine all who have at heart the moral interests of mankind. The
peculiarity of these societies is not so much that they lay emphasis on
the moral as distinct from the spiritual interests, or aim to break down
the dividing line between Religion and Ethics, as it is that they rest
upon conscience as the supreme authority, that they assume its practical
function, build upon it as the one and only thing absolutely known.
There is no pretence of following, even at a distance, the charities of
the old churches with their vast funds, their immense organizations,
their heaps of tracts, their legions of missionaries, all employed in
calling unbelievers into the fold. The object is to elevate all mankind
by appealing to their moral instincts, on the ground of their inherent
ability to rise in the scale of being.
To make their position clear let me quote the words of the founder of
these societies, contained in an article entitled "The Freedom of
Ethical Fellowship," in the first number of the _International Journal
of Ethics_:
It is the aim of the Ethical Societies to extend the area of moral
co-operation so as to include a part, at least, of the inner moral
life; to unite men of divers opinions and beliefs in the common
endeavor to explore the field of duty; to gain clearer perceptions
of right and wrong; to study with thoroughgoing zeal the practical
problems of social, political, and individual ethics, and to embody
the new insight in manners and institutions....
It would be a wrong and a hindrance to the further extension of
truth to raise above our opinions the superstructure of a social
institution. For institutions in their nature are conservative;
they dare not, without imperilling their stability, permit a too
frequent inspection or alteration of their foundations.... The
subject part of mankind, in most places, might, with Egyptian
bondage expect Egyptian darkness, were not the candle of the Lord
set up by himself in men's minds, which it is impossible for the
breath or power of man wholly to extinguish. It is to this "candle
of the Lord set up in men's minds" that we look for illumination.
It is in the light which it sheds that we would read the problems
of conduct and teach others to read them. We appeal directly to the
conscience of the present age, and of the civilized portion of
mankind. There remains as a residue a common deposit of moral
truth, a common stock of moral judgments, which we may call the
common conscience. It is upon this common conscience that we
build.... The contents of the common conscience we would clarify
and classify, to the end that they may become the conscious
possession of all classes; and in order to enrich and enlarge the
conscience, the method we would follow is to begin with cases in
which the moral judgment is already clear, the moral rule already
accepted; and to show that the same rule, the same judgment,
applies to other cases, which, because of their greater complexity,
are less transparent to the mental eye....
And here it may be appropriate to introduce a few reflections on
the relations of moral practice to ethical theory in religious
belief. To many it will appear that the logic of our position must
lead us to underestimate the value of philosophical and religious
doctrines in connection with morality, and that, having excluded
this from our basis of fellowship, we shall inevitably drift into a
crude empiricism. I may be permitted to say that precisely the
opposite is at least our aim, and that among the objects we propose
to ourselves, none are dearer than the advancement of ethical
theory and the upbuilding of religious conviction. The Ethical
Society is a society of persons who are bent on being taught
clearer perceptions of right and wrong, and being shown how to
improve conduct. At least, let us hasten to add, the ideal of the
society is that of a body of men who shall have this bent. Is it
vain to hope that there will in time arise those who will render
them the service they require....
It is safe to say that every step forward in religion was due to a
quickening of the moral impulses; that moral progress is the
condition of religious progress; that the good life is the soil out
of which the religious life grows. The truths of religion are
chiefly two,--that there is a reality other than that of the
senses, and that the ultimate reality in things is, in a sense
transcending our comprehension, akin to the moral nature of men.
But how shall we acquaint ourselves with this super-sensible? The
ladder of science does not reach so far. And the utmost stretch of
the speculative reason cannot attain to more than the abstract
postulate of an infinite, which, however, is void of the essential
attributes of divinity. Only the testimony of the moral life can
support a vital conviction of this sort....
The Ethical Society is friendly to genuine religion anywhere and
everywhere, because it vitalizes religious doctrines by pouring
into them the contents of spiritual meaning.... A new moral
earnestness must precede the rise of larger religious ideals; for
the new religious synthesis which many long for, will not be a
fabrication, but a growth. It will not steal upon us as a thief in
the night, or burst upon us as lightning from the sky, but will
come in time as a result of the gradual, moral evolution of modern
society, as the expression of higher moral aspirations, and a
response to deeper moral needs.
In his famous essay on "Worship," Emerson says:
There will be a new church founded on moral science, at first cold
and naked, a babe in a manger again, the algebra and mathematics of
ethical law, the church of men to come, without shawm or psaltery
or sackbut; but it will have heaven and earth for its beams and
rafters; science for symbol and illustration; it will fast enough
gather beauty, music, picture, poetry.
Is this the church that Emerson predicted? It looks like it. Already we
seem to hear the shawms and sackbuts. Already there are desires after a
more rich and melodious administration.
The last number of the _International Journal of Ethics_ contains two
articles: one on "The Inner Life in Relation to Morality," the other on
"The Ethics of Doubt," which suggest a transcendental ground for moral
beliefs; and they who dissent from this position surround _action_ with
an ideal solemnity. At all events it is something to see, even at a
distance, a city that hath foundations.