CHAPTER VI

_THE EMPHASIS OF THE SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS UPON THE PERSONAL RELATION

IN RELIGION, AND SO UPON THE TRULY MYSTICAL_

I. THE SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS TENDS POSITIVELY TO EMPHASIZE THE PERSONAL

RELATION IN RELIGION

1. _Emphasizes Everywhere the Personal._--The social consciousness

sees man as preëminently the social animal, made for personal

relations, irrevocably and essentially knit up with other persons. It

deepens everywhere our sense of persons and of personal relations. It

may be itself almost defined as the sense of the fully personal.

Religion, then, if it is to be most real to men of the social

consciousness, must be personally conceived, that is, must be

distinctly seen to be a personal relation of man to God. And this

conception, as the highest we can reach, is to be followed fearlessly

to the end; only guarding it against wrong inferences from the simple

transference to God of finite conditions, and recognizing exactly in

what respects the personal relation to God is unique.[35]

The social consciousness, moreover, as we have seen, must have a

conception of religion that can really justify the social

consciousness, and, therefore, must do justice to the fully personal

in God and man; and this need also leads the social consciousness

naturally to the conception of religion as a personal relation.

2. _Requires the Laws of a Deepening Friendship in Religion._--When

this conception is carried out, it is found that growth in the

religious life, in communion with God, follows the laws of a deepening

friendship.[36] These laws can, therefore, be known and studied and

formulated; and religion, at the same time, ceases to be

unintelligible and ceases to be isolated--cut off from the rest of

life, and becomes rather that one great fundamental relation which

gives being and meaning and value to all the rest. In absolute

harmony, then, with the genesis of the social consciousness, religion,

in this conception, is bound up with the whole of life; and we catch a

glimpse of the real and final unity of life in true love, the relation

to God and the relation to man each helping everywhere the other. If

religion is truly a personal relation, and its laws are those of a

deepening friendship, then every human relation, heartily and truly

fulfilled, becomes a new outlook on God, a revelation of new

possibilities in the religious life. And, on the other hand, in that

mutual self-revelation and answering trust upon which every growing

personal relation is built, every fresh revelation of God is an

enlarging of our ideal for our relations to others. Even biblical

literature, perhaps, furnishes no more perfect example of the

interplay of the human and divine relations than Hosea's account of

his own providential leading through the human relation into the

divine, and back again from the divine to a still better human.

3. _Requires the Ideal Conditions of the Richest Life in

Religion._--And if religion is to be justified in its supreme claims

by the social consciousness, it must be felt to offer, besides, the

ideal conditions of the richest life. As a personal relation to God,

religion need not shrink from this test. Our great needs are character

and happiness. Psychology seems to me to point to two great means and

to two accompanying conditions of both character and happiness. The

means are association and work; the corresponding conditions are

reverence for personality, and objectivity--the mood of both love and

work. The great essentials, therefore, to the richest life are (1)

association in which personality is respected, and (2) work in which

one can lose himself. Now, when would these conditions become ideal?

On the one hand, as to association, when the association is with him

who is of the highest character and of the infinitely richest life,

and relation to whom is fundamental to every other personal relation;

when, secondly, God is made concrete and real to us in an adequate

personal revelation of his character, and of his love toward us; and

when, third, the association is individualized for each one, who

throws himself open to God, in God's spiritual presence in us,

constantly and intimately, and yet _unobtrusively_, coöperating with

us. And, on the other hand, as to work, when the work is God-given

work, to which one is set apart, and in which he may lose himself with

joy. These are the ideal conditions of the richest life. Just these

ideal conditions Jesus declared actualities. For the fulfilment of

just these, in the case of his disciples, he prayed in his double

petition,--"Keep them," "Sanctify them," "Keep them in thy name," that

is, through the divine association. "Sanctify them"--set them apart

unto their God-given work. "As thou hast sent me into the world, even

so have I also sent them into the world." Such a conception of

religion can fairly claim to meet, broadly and deeply, the most

exacting demands of the social consciousness for emphasis upon the

personal relation in religion.

II. THE SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS THUS KEEPS THE TRULY MYSTICAL

I have no predilection for the term mystical, and would gladly confine

it to what I have termed the neo-platonic or falsely mystical, were it

not that, in spite of the dictionaries and the histories of philosophy

and the histories of doctrine, the term is used in two quite different

senses. Many, it seems to me, are defending what they call the

mystical in religion, who have no idea of defending what Herrmann and

Nash call mystical. And many, on the other hand, are defending and

teaching the falsely mystical through an undefined fear that else they

will lose the truly mystical. Theology and religion both greatly need

a clear discrimination of terms here. Many are involved, in both

living and thinking, in a self-contradiction, which they feel but

cannot state; and are urging with themselves and with others a means

of religious life and a corresponding method of conception, which

really contradict their highest convictions in other lines of life and

thought. Can we find our way out of this confusion?

If one studies carefully the historical representatives of mysticism,

and especially such a strong type as Jacob Böhme, whom Erdmann calls

the "culmination of mysticism," and still keeps his head, certain

dangers in mysticism, it would seem, must become apparent. And it may

be worth while to attempt a brief, but definite, analysis of the

justifiable and unjustifiable elements in these mystical movements.

1. _The Justifiable and Unjustifiable Elements in Mysticism._--(1) The

first danger in mysticism seems to me to be the tendency to make

simple emotion the supreme test of the religious state. Whether this

emotion is thought of as ecstatic--such as some of the old mystics

called "being drunk with God," or, as quietistic--in which

imperturbability, passionlessness, become the highest good--is

comparatively indifferent. The justifiable element here is the

insistence that religion is real and is life; for feeling is perhaps

the most powerful element in the sense of reality. So James says:

"Speaking generally, the more a conceived object excites us, the more

reality it has."[37] The unjustifiable element is the perilous

subjection of the rational and ethical. Such a view must always lack

any positive and adequate conception of our active life and vocation

in the world.

(2) A second closely connected danger in mysticism is the tendency

toward mere subjectivism. There is here a justifiable element in the

emphasis on one's own personal conviction and faith; an unjustifiable

element in the tendency to underrate anything but the purely

subjective, to ignore all correcting influences from others, from the

church, and from the Scriptures.

(3) A third danger follows from this: the marked tendency to

underestimate the historical. The justifiable element here is, again,

the emphasis on personal conviction and faith; the unjustifiable

element is the tendency toward the greatest one-sidedness, and toward

emptiness, especially of ethical content. Advising our young people

simply to "listen to God," without the strongest insistence upon the

historical revelation of God at the same time, is exposing them to the

great danger of mistaking for an indubitable, divine revelation the

veriest vagary that may chance in their empty-mindedness next to come

into their thought. With the reason in supposed abeyance, the door is

thus thrown open to the grossest superstitions. Honest attempts to

deepen the religious life may thus become dangerous assaults upon true

religion.

(4) A fourth danger in mysticism is so strong a tendency toward

vagueness, that the common mind is not without warrant in identifying

mysticism and mistiness. The justifiable element here is in the real

difficulty of expressing the full content of the entire religious

experience; the unjustifiable element is, once more, the slighting of

the historical, the ethical, and the rational, especially in talking

much of the contradictions of reason, and of what is above reason.

Mysticism naturally lacks positive content.

(5) Another danger--the tendency toward pantheism--comes in partly, as

Herrmann has suggested, as a meeting of this lack of content, and

partly as the logical outcome of such an insistence upon losing

oneself in God as amounts to a being swept out of one's self--a loss

of clear and rational self-consciousness, which is next interpreted

speculatively as a real absorption in God, and is then made the goal.

This is the familiar road of Indian and neo-platonic mysticism, and

its phenomena are real enough, but probably of only the slightest

religious significance. Tennyson tells somewhere of the immense sense

of illumination that came to him once from simply repeating

monotonously his own name--"Alfred Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson." This

may be as effective as looking at the end of one's nose and

ceaselessly reiterating "Om," as does the Hindu ascetic. A still

shorter and more certain method is through nitrous-oxide-gas

intoxication, of which Professor James says: "With me, as with every

other person of whom I have heard, the key-note of the experience is

the tremendously exciting sense of an intense metaphysical

illumination. Truth lies open to the view in depth beneath depth of

almost blinding evidence. The mind sees all the logical relations of

being with an apparent subtlety and instantaneity, to which its normal

consciousness offers no parallel; only as sobriety returns, the

feeling of insight fades, and one is left staring vacantly at a few

disjointed words and phrases as one stares at a cadaverous-looking

snow-peak from which the sunset glow has just fled, or at the black

cinder left by an extinguished brand." "The immense emotional sense of

reconciliation," he felt to be the characteristic mood. "It is

impossible to convey," he says, "an idea of the torrential character

of the identification of opposites as it streams through the mind in

this experience."[38]

Now it is not safe to ignore such facts, when we are seriously trying

to estimate the religious significance of intense emotional

experiences, the reality of which we need not at all question. The

vital question is, not that of the reality of the experiences, but

that of the real cause of the experiences; and the only possible test

of this is rational and ethical. But from this test, mysticism tends

from the start to shut itself off, and so, assuming the experience to

be truly religious, ends often in virtual pantheism.

The justifiable element in this insistence upon absorption in God is

the necessary moral relation of complete surrender to God. The

unjustifiable element is in belittling the personal in both God and

man, and in making essentially religious an experience that has almost

nothing of the rational and ethical in it, and that, on that very

account, fosters the irreverent familiarity with Christ so deplored by

more than one careful student of mysticism. A natural and common and

most dangerous accompaniment of such an intense emotional experience

is the tendency afterward, to excuse sin in oneself. In the case of

the most conscientious, it is worth noting, such an emphasis upon

intense experiences tends to lead them to distrust the reality of the

normal Christian experience if they have not had these intense

emotions, or if they have had them, tends to bring them into despair

when they find these marked experiences actually proving less powerful

in effects upon life than they had expected.

(6) The last danger in mysticism, to which reference will be made, is

the tendency to extravagant symbolism. This is closely connected with

"the immense emotional sense of reconciliation," and is much stronger

by nature in some than in others. The born mystic finds his own

subjective views symbolized everywhere, and is in grave danger of

being led into an ingenious, practically unconscious intellectual

dishonesty. The justifiable element here is that sense of the unity

and worth of things which is the most fundamental conviction of our

minds. The unjustifiable element has been sufficiently indicated.

The justifiable elements in mysticism, then, may be said to include:

the insistence on the legitimate place of feeling in religion as a

real and vital experience; the emphasis on one's own conviction and

faith; the real difficulty of expressing the full meaning of the

religious experience; the demand for a complete ethical surrender to

God; and the faith in the real unity and worth of the world in God.

Now if one tries to bring together these justifiable elements in

mysticism, the truly mystical may all be summed up as simply a protest

in favor of the whole man--the entire personality. It says that men

can experience and live and feel and do much more than they can

logically formulate, define, explain, or even fully express. Living is

more than thinking.

2. _The Protest in Favor of the Whole Man._--The element to which

mysticism has tried most to do justice is feeling, and so it has been

liable to a new and dangerous one-sidedness. But the truly mystical

must be a protest alike against a narrow juiceless intellectualism,

against a narrow moralistic rigorism, and against a blind and

spineless sentimentalism. It is a protest particularly against making

the mathematico-mechanical view of the world the only view; against

making logical consistency the sole test of truth or reality; against

ignoring all data, except those which come through the intellect

alone; that is, against trying to make a part, not the whole, of man

the standard; in other words, against ignoring the data which come

through feeling and will--emotional, æsthetic, ethical, and religious

data, as well as those judgments of worth which underlie reason's

theoretical determinations.

Man stands, in fact, everywhere face to face with an actual world of

great complexity, that seems to him at first what James says the

baby's world is, "one big blooming buzzing confusion;" "and the

universe of all of us is still to a great extent such a confusion,

potentially resolvable, and demanding to be resolved, but not yet

actually resolved, into parts."[39] In one sense, man's whole task is

to think unity and order into this confusion. The problem really

becomes that of thinking the universe through in several kinds of

terms, and then finally bringing all together into one comprehensive

view. All these are alike ideals which the mind sets before itself.

The easiest of these problems is the attempt to think the world

through, in mathematico-mechanical terms. But the attempt to think the

world through in æsthetic or ethical or religious terms is equally

legitimate, though it is more difficult. Not only, then, is the

mathematico-mechanical view not the sole justifiable view, but it

really has its justification in an ideal, and success in this attempt

affords just encouragement for the hope of success in the other more

difficult problems.[40]

The truly mystical holds, then, that the narrow intellectualism is

unwarranted, because natural science, the mechanical view of the

world, is itself an ideal--the "child of duties," as Münsterberg calls

it--and so cannot legitimately rule out other ideals; because we have

just as immediate a conviction concerning the worth, as concerning the

logical consistency of the world; because a narrow intellectualism

would make conscious life but a "barren rehearsal" of the outer world,

without significance; because if we can trust the indications of our

intellect, we ought to be able to trust the indications of the rest of

our nature; and because, thus, the only possible key and standard of

truth and reality are in ourselves--the whole self, and "necessities

of thought" become necessities of a reason which means loyally to take

account of all the data of the entire man.

And the same point may be thus stated. We use the word rational in two

quite distinct senses: in the narrow sense, as meaning simply the

intellectual; in the broad sense, as indicating the demands of the

entire man. The true mysticism stands for the broadly rational.

So, too, we speak of the necessary fundamental assumption of the

honesty or sincerity of the world; but this includes two quite

distinct propositions: one, that the world must be thinkable,

conceivable, construable, a logically consistent whole, a sphere for

rational thinking,--where the test is consistency; the other, that the

world must be worth while, must not mock our highest ideals and

aspirations, must in some true and genuine sense satisfy the whole

man, be a sphere for rational living,--where the test is worth. All

our arguments go forward upon these two assumptions. Now, a true

mysticism contends that the second principle is as rational as the

first, though it must be freely granted that it is not as easy to

employ it for detailed conclusions, and it is consequently much more

liable to abuse. The true mysticism wishes to be not less, but more,

rational. It knows no shorthand substitute for the hard and steady

thinking of the philosopher, or for the historical experience of the

prophet; it needs and uses both.

In all this, it is plain that the truly mystical is a legitimate

outgrowth of the emphasis of the social consciousness upon recognition

of the entire personality. Phillips Brooks finds just this in the

intellectual life of Jesus. "The great fact concerning it is this," he

says, "that in him the intellect never works alone. You never can

separate its workings from the complete operation of the entire

nature. He never simply knows, but always loves and resolves at the

same time."[41]

3. _The Self-Controlled Recognition of Emotion._--Moreover, it

probably may be fairly claimed that all of the mystical recognition of

the emotional which is valuable or even legitimate, is preserved, and

far more safely and sanely conceived, in a strictly personal

conception of religion. It may well be doubted, if it is possible in

any other way, both to do justice to feeling in religion, and at the

same time to keep feeling in its proper place. Is it possible briefly

to indicate both the recognition of emotion and the control of emotion

in religion?

The true mysticism recognizes that the supreme joy is "joy in personal

life"--joy in entering into the revelation of a person; and it

believes with reason that a growing acquaintance with God must have

such heights and depths of meaning as no other personal relation can

have. It is not, therefore, afraid or distrustful of true emotion--of

joy or peace, of intense longing or of keen satisfaction--in the

religious life.

But the true mysticism knows at the same time that deep revelation of

a person is made only to the reverent, that the conditions are in the

highest degree ethical, and above all must be recognized to be so in

religion. It does view, then, with deep distrust an emotional emphasis

in religion that ignores the ethical. It cannot forget that Christ

thought that everything must be tested by its fruits in life. Paul,

too, insisted on applying the test of an active ministering love to

the highly valued emotional experiences of the Corinthians; and writes

to the Galatians that there is but one infallible proof of the working

of the Spirit in them--a righteous life: "love, joy, peace,

longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance."

And a true mysticism knows that the spirit, reverent of personality,

leads to a self-restraint that does not seek the emotional experience

simply as such on _any_ conditions; but, knowing the supreme

psychological conditions of happiness and character and influence, it

loses itself in an unselfish love and in absorbing work, and

understands that it must simply let the experiences come. It will have

nothing, therefore, to do with strained emotion, or with the working

up of feeling for its own sake. It seeks health, not merely the signs

of health. It prizes, therefore, the joy that simply proclaims itself

as the sign of the normal life and so positively strengthens and

cheers, but it will have nothing of the strain of emotion which is

drain.

It is interesting to notice that it is exactly this true psychological

attitude concerning the emotional life that Phillips Brooks believed

that he found perfectly reflected in Jesus. "The sensitiveness of

Jesus to pain and joy," he says, "never leads him for a moment to try

to be sad or happy with direct endeavor; nor, is there any sign that

he ever judges the real character of himself or any other man by the

sadness or the happiness that for the moment covers his life. He

simply lives, and joy and sorrow issue from his living, and cast their

brightness and their gloominess back upon his life; but there is no

sorrow and no joy that he ever sought for itself, and he always kept a

self-knowledge underneath the joy or sorrow, undisturbed by the

moment's happiness or unhappiness."[42]

How far from this objectivity and this healthful emotional life is the

atmosphere of most of our devotional books, and, one might say, of all

the manuals of ordinary mysticism! That this difficulty should

confront us in devotional literature is very natural; for such writing

commonly aims to give the emotional sense of reality in religion; and

is, therefore, particularly under the temptation to show and to

produce a straining after the emotion, as for its own sake. Moreover,

the very introspection, almost inevitably involved in the reading and

writing of devotional books, tends to bring about an artificial change

in the religious experience, and so to introduce into it the abnormal.

But the social consciousness, so far as it affects religion, not only

tends to draw away from the falsely mystical, and to emphasize the

personal, and so to keep the truly mystical, but it is even more plain

that it must tend to insist upon the ethical in religion.

[35] Cf. King, _Reconstruction in Theology_, p. 201 ff.

[36] _Op. cit._, pp. 210 ff.

[37] James, _Psychology_, Vol. II, p. 307.

[38] James, _The Will to Believe_, pp. 294, 295.

[39] _Psychology_, Briefer Course, p. 16.

[40] Cf. James, _Psychology_, Vol. II, 633-677; especially 633, 634,

667, 671, 677; Münsterberg, _Psychology and Life_, pp. 23-28.

[41] Brooks, _The Influence of Jesus_, p. 219.

[42] _The Influence of Jesus_, p. 156.

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