We began the day with a visit to the York minster and ended it with
a dinner at the Rountree cocoa works. Some of the men thought there
was more spirituality in the discussion of the ethical problems of
modern industry in which we engaged at Rountree’s than in the communion
service we heard so atrociously read in the minster. Of course the
dinner discussion was richer in ethical content, but there are
nevertheless religious values in the cathedral which one cannot find in
a discussion of ethical problems however vital.
Religion is a reaction to life’s mysteries and a reverence before the
infinitudes of the universe. Without ethical experience the infinite
is never defined in ethical terms, but the soul which is reverent and
morally vital at the same time learns how to apprehend the infinite in
terms of holiness and worships a God who transcends both our knowledge
and our conscience. The cathedral with its dim religious light, its
vaulted ceiling, its altar screen, and its hushed whispers is symbolic
of the element of mystery in religion.
Without an adequate sermon no clue is given to the moral purpose at the
heart of the mystery, and reverence remains without ethical content.
But a religion which never goes beyond a sense of awe is no less
{“more” in 1929 reprint} complete (though perhaps less serviceable)
than one which has reduced life’s ultimate and ineffable truth to a pat
little formula which a proud little man expounds before a comfortable
and complacent congregation. I am sorry that there is no more ethically
vital preaching in the cathedral, though that wretched communion
service this morning, which could help no one if he did not believe in
magic, is hardly typical of everything which happens in a cathedral.
But I am equally sorry that the sense of awe and reverence has departed
from so many of our churches.
The very appearance of many of our churches betrays the loss of
one necessary element in religion. Everything suggests the secular
rather than the religious, from the red hat of the rather too
sensuously pretty soprano soloist and the frock coat of the rather
too self-conscious parson to the comfortable pew cushions and the
splendiferous pew holders. The morning sun shines brightly into the
“auditorium” and the sun of worldly wisdom illumines the discourse of
the preacher.
Of course I know that the devotional attitude frequently destroys
clear thinking, and we need clear thinking for ethical living in a
complex civilization. But it ought not be impossible to preserve the
poetic with the scientific attitude, the mystical with the analytical,
to have both worship and instruction. I think that is what Heywood
Broun was driving at some time ago when he expressed a preference
for an “Episcopal church with an heretical sermon.” Unfortunately
the heretical, i.e., the morally vital and contemporaneous religious
instruction, does not seem to flourish in the liturgical church.
But there are men here in England who preach prophetic sermons in
cathedrals. There might be more. In America they are certainly not
numerous. But that is no reason why we should dismiss religious awe
and reverence as morally dangerous. After all, the prophetic preaching
which we hear in our “church auditoriums” is not so vigorous as to give
us any certainty that a secularized church is superior in its moral
potency.
_1924_
While visiting at the home of Mr. and Mrs. ---- today little Ralph felt
it incumbent upon himself to entertain me by putting the family dog
through his tricks. I have already forgotten the breed of the dog, but
his shaggy locks covered his eyes so completely that he seemed to be
without eyesight. Ralph told me with great eagerness that the dog would
go blind if his locks were cut to improve his eyesight. Thus nature
adjusts herself to her own inadequacies, and women of the future may
run the peril of deafness if they uncover their ears.
Ralph’s dog gave me the clue to much of our irreligion. The eyes of
so many people have been covered by superstitions and illusions that
they are not strong enough to preserve their sight in the daylight of
knowledge. Freed from their superstitions, they are blinded in the very
moment that they are given an unhindered view. They could see beauty
while they lived in twilight, but a brilliant light obscures life’s
beauty and meaning.
Of course the eye may ultimately adjust itself to the brilliance of the
light, and as men grow accustomed to the concrete and specific objects
which distract them on first sight, they will learn again to view the
whole scene and to regard all things in their relationships.
It is in relationships and in totalities that life’s meaning is
revealed.
_1924_
Since spending the summer in Europe I have been devoting the entire
fall to a development of our worship service. The various types of
ritualistic services in non-conformist churches I heard over there
appealed to me so much that I decided to imitate them. Of course the
Anglican services have their own appeal, but the technique which makes
them possible is beyond us. For some years I have been having a few
prayer responses, but now I am developing a program with litanies,
confessions, acts of praise and every other bit of liturgical beauty
and meaning by which the service can be enriched.
It’s a shame we have permitted our services to become so barren. My
only regret is that I did not wake up in time to build our church
properly for liturgical purposes. There could be much pleasure in
conducting a richly elaborated liturgical service without the restraint
of the rubrics to which the Anglicans must submit. I do not know
whether the people like the added beauty in the service as much as I
do, but many have expressed appreciation. It seems to me to make a
great deal of difference in the spiritual value of a service to have
some unison prayer with an authentic religious emotion expressed in
a well turned phrase, to have choir responses for the prayers and
moments of silence for quiet prayer.
The idea that a formless service is more spontaneous and therefore
more religious than a formal one is disproved in my own experience.
Only a very few men have ever really put me in a mood of prayer by
their “pastoral prayers.” On the other hand, a really beautiful worship
service actually gives me a mystic sense of the divine.
_1924_
Arrived in ---- today and spoke this noon to a group of liberal people.
The meeting was arranged by the secretary of the Y.W.C.A. I poked fun
at them a little for enjoying their theological liberalism so much in
this part of the country, while they were afraid of even the mildest
economic and political heresy. Of course that didn’t quite apply to the
people at the table, but it does apply to this whole section. There is
no one quite so ridiculous as a preacher who prides himself upon his
theological radicalism in a city where the theological battle was won a
generation ago, while he meanwhile speaks his convictions on matters of
economics only in anxious whispers.
I was asked to visit ---- (leading preacher) and see whether I could
not interest him in our organization. He was an interesting study. He
told me of his important connections in the city, of his tremendous
church program, of the way he had increased the budget of his church,
of his building plans, of the necessity “of fighting on one front at a
time,” of his theological battles; and he ended by declining to join
the liberal group which sought his aid.
He thought it would not be advisable, considering his heavy
responsibilities, to imperil the many great “causes” to which he was
devoting his life by identifying himself with a radical movement. I
didn’t mind his cowardice so much, though he tried to hide it, as his
vanity, which he took no pains to hide. I could just see him cavorting
weekly before his crowd of doting admirers.
Obviously one of his chief difficulties is that he is good looking. A
minister has enough temptations to vanity without bearing the moral
hazard of a handsome face. If this young fellow had only been half as
homely as old Dr. Gordon he might have a chance of acquiring a portion
of his grace. But I don’t want to drive that generalization too far. I
know one or two saintly preachers who could pose for a collar ad.
_1924_
Had a letter today informing me that the First ---- church in ---- has
called a new pastor. After trying futilely to find the right man, who
was to have as much scholarship as his predecessor and more “punch,”
they decided to raise the salary to $15,000. I don’t know whether that
was the factor which finally solved their problem, but at any rate they
have the man they want. I suppose it is not easy to get a combination
of Aristotle and Demosthenes, and on the current market, that ought to
be worth $15,000. Nevertheless there must be some limit to this matter
of oversized salaries.
There ought to be some questioning, too, about the growing tendency of
churches to build their congregations around pulpit eloquence. What
kind of fundamental ethical question can a man be eloquent about when
he draws that much cash, particularly since a Croesus or two usually
has to supply an undue proportion of it? I don’t know anything about
the prophet of the Lord who accepted this call, but I venture to
prophesy that no sinner in that pagan city will quake in his boots in
anticipation of his coming.
The idea of a professional good man is difficult enough for all of us
who are professionally engaged as teachers of the moral ideal. Of
course, “a man must live,” and it is promised that if we seek first the
kingdom and its righteousness “all these things shall be added unto
us.” But I doubt whether Jesus had a $15,000 salary in mind. If the
things that are added become too numerous they distract your attention
terribly. To try to keep your eye on the main purpose may only result
in making you squint-eyed. I hope the new prophet won’t begin his
pastorate with a sermon on the text, “I count all things but loss.”
_1924_
I was a little ashamed of what I wrote recently about ministers’
salaries, but today I was strangely justified in my criticism. Walking
into a store to buy a hat I met an old friend who told me about his new
preacher. His church had tried for a long while to secure the right
man, and then by dint of a special campaign they raised the salary
from $6,000 to $10,000. That is obviously more than most of the people
in the congregation make. He said to me with considerable pride, “You
ought to hear our new preacher. My, but he is a great talker!” Then he
came close and whispered to me out of hearing of the other customers:
“He ought to be. We are paying him ten thousand dollars.” The cynicism
was quite unconscious.
_1924_
I begin to realize how little religious faith depends upon dialectical
support. When called upon to bury some one whose life revealed
spiritual charm and moral force I can preach the hope of immortality
with conviction and power. But funerals of religious and moral
nondescripts leave me enervated. I think I could bury a brazen sinner
with more satisfaction. There is always a note of real tragedy in the
life of an obvious reprobate that gives point to a sermon. But these
Tomlinsons are a trial.
Of course, there is a good deal of pride in such an attitude, and it is
partly due to ignorance. As soon as I know the person whose death is
mourned I can enter into the occasion sympathetically. There is hardly
a soul so poor and flaccid but does not reveal some glimpse of the
eternal in its life. If I happen to lack contact with the deceased I
might well remind myself that his death is sincerely mourned by those
who are near. It is after all a glorious tribute to the qualities of
human nature that those who know us best love us most. Perhaps their
love is occasionally no more than a natural attachment which men
conceive for familiar objects.
Funerals are a terrible trial to me, but I must admit that the
stolid courage and quiet grief of most mourners is a real source of
inspiration. Only occasionally does one meet with hysterical grief and
theatrical and insincere sorrow. How desperately people brush up their
little faith in times of sorrow! It is quite easy to see that religious
faith prospers because of, and not in spite of, the tribulations of
this world. It is because this mortal life is felt as an irrelevancy
to the main purpose in life that men achieve the courage to hope for
immortality.
_1924_
We had a union Thanksgiving service today. It would have been a nice
service but for the fact that the leader could not get over the fact
that four denominations had been able to achieve unity to undertake
such a service. This was supposed to be a great advance. As a matter
of fact the people in the church were long since united in dozens of
community enterprises. The men, whatever church they belonged to,
attended the same Rotary and Kiwanis clubs and the women were members
of the same literary and review clubs.
The church has lost the chance of becoming the unifying element in
our American society. It is not anticipating any facts. It is merely
catching up very slowly to the new social facts created by economic and
other forces. The American melting pot is doing its work. The churches
merely represent various European cultures, lost in the amalgam of
American life and maintaining a separate existence only in religion.
What we accomplish in the way of church unity ought to be accepted with
humility and not hailed with pride. We are not creating. We are merely
catching up with creation.
_1924_
Going to St. Louis today a portly and garrulous gentleman sat back
of me and became very much interested in two nuns who were reading
their prayerbooks. The man, who seemed the perfect type of successful
drummer, felt very superior to the nuns. How can anyone “fall for that
stuff” in this day and age, he wanted to know in a loud whisper. “They
remind me of ghosts,” he said.
I had to admit that there was something almost unearthly about these
black figures with their white-rimmed hoods. But their faces were
kindly and human, and the face of the drummer was sensuous and florid.
Perhaps the difference between him and the nuns illustrates the quality
of our “modernity,” though I don’t want to maintain that he is the
perfect type of a modern man. But we do have a great many moderns
who are emancipated from every kind of religious discipline without
achieving any new loyalty which might qualify the brutal factors in
human life.
It is better that life incarnate some ideal value, even if mixed with
illusion, (though anything which has the spirit of love in it is not
wholly illusion) than that it should express nothing but the will to
live. My drummer thinks of himself as a modern in comparison with those
nuns. I looked at him squatting there and glanced again at the homely
but beautiful faces of the nuns and said to myself: What is modern and
what is ancient? Were there not toads before there were ghosts and
fairies?
_1924_
Bishop Williams is dead. I sit and stare at the floor while I say that
to myself and try to believe it. How strangely a vital personality
defies the facts of death. Nowhere have I seen a personality more
luminous with the Christ spirit than in this bishop who was also
a prophet. Here was a man who knew how to interpret the Christian
religion so that it meant something in terms of an industrial
civilization. His fearless protagonism of the cause of democracy in
industry won him the respect and love of the workers of the city as no
other churchman possessed it.
Yet I am afraid that it must be admitted that he didn’t change the
prevailing attitude of Detroit industry by a hair’s breadth. He even
had to offer his resignation in the face of increasing hostility to
his social views. That letter of resignation was incidentally a gem
of humble self-analysis and courageous insistence on the truth of his
doctrine.
He did not change Detroit industry but he left many of us holding our
heads more upright because of his intelligent and courageous analysis
of contemporary civilization from the perspective of a Christian
conscience. If a bishop with all his prestige could make no bigger dent
upon the prevailing mood of the city, what chance is there for the
rest of us? Perhaps the best that any of us can do is to say:
Charge once more then and be dumb,
Let the victors when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall.
Rejoice, said Jesus, not that the devils are subject unto you but
that your names are written in heaven. One ought to strive for the
reformation of society rather than one’s own perfection. But society
resists every effort to bring its processes under ethical restraint so
stubbornly that one must finally be satisfied with preserving one’s
moral integrity in a necessary and yet futile struggle. Of course the
struggle is never as futile as it seems from an immediate perspective.
The bishop did not change Detroit industry, but if the church
ever becomes a real agency of the kingdom of God in an industrial
civilization, his voice, though he is dead, will be in its counsels.
_1925_
When I sit through a church conference I begin to see a little more
clearly why religion is on the whole so impotent ethically, why
the achievements of the church are so meager compared to its moral
pretensions. Sermon after sermon, speech after speech is based upon the
assumption that the people of the church are committed to the ethical
ideals of Jesus and that they are the sole or at least chief agents of
redemptive energy in society.
It is very difficult to persuade people who are committed to a general
ideal to consider the meaning of that ideal in specific situations.
It is even more difficult to prompt them to consider specific ends of
social and individual conduct and to evaluate them in the light of
experience.
The church conference begins and ends by attempting to arouse an
emotion of the ideal, usually in terms of personal loyalty to the
person of Jesus, but very little is done to attach the emotion to
specific tasks and projects. Is the industrial life of our day
unethical? Are nations imperialistic? Is the family disintegrating? Are
young people losing their sense of values? If so, we are told over and
over again that nothing will help but “a new baptism of the spirit,”
a “new revival of religion,” a “great awakening of the religious
consciousness.”
But why not be specific? Why doesn’t the church offer specific
suggestions for the application of a Christian ethic to the
difficulties of our day? If that suggestion is made, the answer is that
such a policy would breed contention. It certainly would. No moral
project can be presented and no adventure made without resistance from
the traditionalist and debate among experimentalists. But besides being
more effective, such a course would be more interesting than this
constant bathing in sentimentalities. If the church could only achieve
schisms on ethical issues! They would represent life and reality. Its
present schisms are not immoral as such. They are immoral only in the
sense that they perpetuate issues which have no relevancy in our day.
_1925_
The reactions of a group of ministers to an address on the relation of
religion to modern life are always interesting. Invariably there is one
group of men who are pathetically eager to “do something about it,”
to save civilization from its perils. I think the church will compare
favorably with the university in the number of men who are not blinded
to the defects of modern life and who are not enervated by a sense of
futility. The university has plenty of men whose eyes are open, but
they despair much more easily of finding a way out than the preachers.
The ministers have not lost some of that saving grace, “the foolishness
of faith.”
Of course there is always a group of those who sit sullenly while you
harangue them. I had my eye fixed on one portly and prosperous priest
today who was obviously out of accord with what I was saying. Of course
I have no right to judge him because he did not agree with me. But he
seemed to me to be one of those satisfied and complacent chaplains who
has fed so long at the flesh-pots of Egypt that he resents anything
which disturbs his ease. A man like that reminds me of the eunuchs of
old who were robbed of their virility that they might adorn without
endangering their masters’ luxurious establishments.
The old gentleman was there too who wanted to know whether I believed
in the deity of Jesus. He is in every town. He seemed to be a nice
sort, but he wanted to know how I could speak for an hour on the
Christian church without once mentioning the atonement. Nothing, said
he, but the blood of Jesus would save America from its perils. He made
quite an impassioned speech. At first I was going to answer him but it
seemed too useless. I finally told him I believed in blood atonement
too, but since I hadn’t shed any of the blood of sacrifice which it
demanded I felt unworthy to enlarge upon the idea.
_1925_
We went through one of the big automobile factories today. So
artificial is life that these factories are like a strange world to
me though I have lived close to them for many years. The foundry
interested me particularly. The heat was terrific. The men seemed
weary. Here manual labor is a drudgery and toil is slavery. The men
cannot possibly find any satisfaction in their work. They simply work
to make a living. Their sweat and their dull pain are part of the price
paid for the fine cars we all run. And most of us run the cars without
knowing what price is being paid for them.
Looking at these men the words of Markham’s “The Man with the Hoe” came
to me. A man with a hoe is a happy creature beside these suffering
souls.
“The emptiness of ages in his face”
· · · · · · · · ·
“Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?”
We are all responsible. We all want the things which the factory
produces and none of us is sensitive enough to care how much in human
values the efficiency of the modern factory costs. Beside the brutal
facts of modern industrial life, how futile are all our homiletical
spoutings! The church is undoubtedly cultivating graces and preserving
spiritual amenities in the more protected areas of society. But it
isn’t changing the essential facts of modern industrial civilization by
a hair’s breadth. It isn’t even thinking about them.
The morality of the church is anachronistic. Will it ever develop a
moral insight and courage sufficient to cope with the real problems of
modern society? If it does it will require generations of effort and
not a few martyrdoms. We ministers maintain our pride and self-respect
and our sense of importance only through a vast and inclusive
ignorance. If we knew the world in which we live a little better we
would perish in shame or be overcome by a sense of futility.
_1925_
The new parish organization seems to be working splendidly. The
congregation is divided into nine sections, each with a man and woman
as parish leaders. Each section meets twice a year in cottage meetings,
and meanwhile the leaders and their assistants visit the various
families, particularly the new members and those who are sick. Some
splendid new leaders have already been developed by this plan. Since I
must be absent from the city so much, the plan is all the more valuable.
Last Sunday we discussed in the class whether a church ought to develop
fellowship for its own sake or whether fellowship ought to be the
inevitable by-product of unifying convictions. I suppose a small church
in a hostile environment would not have to worry about fellowship. If
people fight shoulder to shoulder they will be brothers. But even the
most heroic church is not so definitely in conflict with the society in
which it lives that you can really count on that kind of fellowship.
A local congregation is, after all, a social organism in which heroic
idealism is expressed in an occasional adventure, if at all, rather
than in a constant tension between its principles and the moral
mediocrities of the world.
Meanwhile, it seems to me to be worth while to cultivate the graces of
neighborliness merely for their own sake. This is particularly true in
the large city where life is so impersonal and where the church has a
fine opportunity to personalize it a little. What surprises me is the
readiness with which people give themselves to various forms of mutual
aid once they are prompted to engage in them.
Most people lack imagination much more than they lack good will. If
someone points out what can be done and what ought to be done there is
usually someone to do it.
_1925_