_THE INFLUENCE OF THE DEEPENING SENSE OF THE MUTUAL INFLUENCE OF MEN
UPON THEOLOGY_
From this first element of the social consciousness, we turn now to
the second, and ask, How does the deepening sense of the mutual
influence of men affect theology?
I. THE REAL UNITY OF THE RACE
1. First, then, taken with the sense of the likeness of men, it can
hardly be doubted that sociology's strong feeling of the mutual
influence of men deepens for theology the thought of the real, not the
mechanical, unity of the race. The theologian believes, more than he
did, in a race whose unity is preëminently moral, rather than physical
or mystical. The truly scientific position for the theologian seems to
be, to make no mysterious assumptions, where well-known causes are
sufficient to account for the facts; and those causes which the social
consciousness clearly sees to be at work seem, in all probability,
adequate to account for the facts in discussion so far as those facts
are finite at all.[78] The theologian knows, then, a true moral
universe, with a unity which is that of the close personal, mutual
relations of like-minded spiritual beings.
The natural goal of such a race, the only one in which they can truly
find themselves, is the kingdom of God. This conception of Christ is
first thoroughly at home with us, when we see that the true unity of
the race is that of personal moral relation. So far as men turn from
that goal, this same racial unity of the inevitable and most intimate
personal relations converts them into something approaching Ritschl's
conception of an opposing "kingdom of sin."
Are we prepared to be thoroughly loyal to just this conception of the
unity of the race throughout our theological thinking; and so to give
up cherished ideas of "common," "transmitted," "inherited," or
"racial" sin or righteousness, of "mystical solidarity," and racial
ideal representation, etc.? It probably may be said with truth that
few, if any, theological systems have been thus loyal. Indeed, under
what seems a mistaken application of the social consciousness, and
particularly under the misleading influence of the analogy of the
organism, men have believed themselves attaining a deeper theological
view, when they have, in fact, turned away from the sober teaching of
the social consciousness.
It may not be in vain for our theology to hear and receive with
patience a sociologist's definition of the "social mind." Upon this
point Professor Giddings says explicitly: "There is no reason to
suppose that society is a great being which is conscious of itself
through some mysterious process of thinking, separate and distinct
from the thinking that goes on in the brains of individual men. At any
rate, there is no possible way yet known to man of proving that there
is any such supreme social consciousness." Nevertheless, he adds: "To
the group of facts that may be described as the simultaneous
like-mental-activity of two or more individuals in communication with
one another, or as a concert of the emotions, thought, and will of two
or more communicating individuals, we give the name, the social mind.
This name, accordingly, should be regarded as meaning just this group
of facts and nothing more. It does not mean that there is any other
consciousness than that of individual minds. It does mean that
individual minds act simultaneously in like ways and continually
influence one another; and that certain mental products result from
such combined mental action which could not result from the thinking
of an individual who had no communication with fellow-beings."[79]
Just so far, it may well be supposed, and no farther may we go, in
theology, in moral and spiritual inferences from the unity of the
race. We are members one of another for good and for ill, one in the
unity of the inevitable, mutual influence of like-minded persons.
II. DEEPENING THE SENSE OF SIN
And this conviction, in the second place, not only deepens our sense
of the real unity of the race, it deepens also the sense of sin. And
we can hardly separate here the influence of the third element of the
social consciousness--the sense of the value and sacredness of the
person. As against a rather wide-spread and often expressed contrary
feeling, this deepening sense of sin may yet, it is believed, be
truthfully maintained, _so far as the social consciousness is really
making itself felt_. There are some disintegrating tendencies here, no
doubt, like the tendency under some applications of evolution and
evolutionary philosophy to turn all sin into a necessary stage in the
evolution. But had not Drummond reason to say: "There is one
theological word which has found its way lately into nearly all the
newer and finer literature of our country. It is not only _one_ of the
words of the literary world at present, it is perhaps _the_ word. Its
reality, its certain influence, its universality, have at last been
recognized, and in spite of its theological name have forced it into a
place which nothing but its felt relation to the wider theology of
human life could ever have earned for a religious word. That word, it
need scarcely be said, is sin."[80]
Contrast this modern sense of sin with the almost total lack of it
among even so gifted a people of the ancient world as the Greeks, and
feel the significance of the phenomenon. But it is particularly to be
noted that this sense of sin in literature is largely due to a keener
social conscience. In fact, if the social consciousness is not a
thoroughly fraudulent phenomenon, it could hardly be otherwise; for
the social consciousness, in its very essence, is a sense of what is
due a person; and sin is always ultimately against a person, failure
to be what one ought to be in some personal relation, including
finally all the relations of the kingdom of God. We simply cannot
deepen the sense of the meaning and value of personal relations, and
not deepen, at the same time, the sense of sin. The meaning of the
Golden Rule, and so the sense of sin under it, deepens inevitably with
every step into the meaning of the person. If the one great
commandment is love, then the sin of which men need most of all to be
convicted is lack of love.
The self-tormenting and fanciful sins of some of our devotional books
very likely are less felt. But the very existence of the social
consciousness seems to be proof that there never was so much good,
honest, wholesome sense of real sin as to-day--such sin as Christ
himself recognizes in his own judgment test.
It may be that, in temporary absorption in the human relations, the
relation of all this to the All-Father may seem forgotten; even so, we
may well remember Christ's "Ye did it unto me." But, in fact, we must
go much farther and say, The social consciousness can only be true to
itself finally, as it goes on to see its acts in the light, most of
all, of that single, personal relation which underlies all others. We
have already seen that the social consciousness requires for its own
justification its grounding in the manifest trend of the living will
of God. With this felt identification of the will of God with love for
men, men can still less shake off easily the conviction of sin.
Probably, most religious men argue a diminishing sense of sin, because
they feel that less is made of those consequences of sin which have
been usually connected with the future life. There may be real danger
here from shallow thinking; but here, too, the social consciousness
has only to be true to itself to be saved from any shallow estimate of
the consequences of sin here or hereafter. As the sin itself is
always, finally, in personal relations, so the most terrible results
of sin, in this life and in all lives, are in personal relations. What
it costs the man himself in cutting him off from the relations in
which all largeness of life consists, what it costs those who love
him, what it costs God,--this alone is the true measure of sin. So
judged, sin itself is feared as never before. Surely, Principal
Fairbairn is right in saying: "And so even within Christendom, sin is
never so little feared as when hell most dominates the imagination; it
needs to be looked at as it affects God, to be understood and
feared."[81] But it is the inevitable result of the social
consciousness to bring us to the deepest conviction of all these
personal relations, and so to the deepest conviction of sin.
Another consideration deserves attention. We have a growing conviction
that our social ideal is personally realized only in Christ, and we
have given unequaled attention to that life and have such knowledge of
it, in its detailed applications, as no preceding generation has ever
had. This simply means that we have both such a sense of our moral
calling, and are face to face with such a living standard, as must
steadily deepen in us a genuine sense of real sin, in our falling so
far short of the spirit of Christ.
Theology needs, further, to make unmistakably clear, and to use the
fact, that _this mutual influence of men holds for good_ as well as
for evil; that few greater lies have ever been told, than the
insinuation that only evil is contagious, the good not. And this
conviction of the contagion of the good, of mutual influence for good,
concerns theology particularly in three ways, all of which may be
regarded simply as illustrations or aspects of the one kingdom of God.
We are members one of another (1) in attainment of character, (2) in
personal relation to God, and (3) in confession of faith. And each of
these forms of mutual influence will need careful attention.
In considering separately here attainment of character and relation to
God, it is not meant for a moment to admit that separation of ethics
and religion which has been already denied, but only to single out for
distinct treatment the one most important and fundamental relation of
life--relation to God. We are certainly never to forget that the
indispensable condition of right relations to God, is that a man
should have been won into willingness to share God's own righteous
purpose concerning men.
III. MUTUAL INFLUENCE FOR GOOD IN THE ATTAINMENT OF CHARACTER
We know no deeper law in the building of character, than that
righteous character comes through that association with the best in
which there is mutual self-giving. The problem of character implies
not only a bare recognition of a man's moral freedom, but a sacred
respect at every point for his personality. If a man is ever to have
character at all, it must be absolutely his own; he must be won freely
into it. In this free winning to character, no association counts for
its most that is not mutual. I become in character most certainly and
rapidly like that man with whom I constantly am, to whose influence I
most fully surrender, and who gives himself most completely to me.
We may analyze the phenomenon psychologically, as, indeed, we have
already done in showing that a true personal relation to Christ
necessarily carries with it a true ethical life. And that which held
true for religion cannot be false for theology, we may be sure. But,
in any case, we always come back finally to the fact, that character
is truly and inevitably contagious in an association in which there is
mutual surrender. Character is caught, not taught. The inner strength
of another life to which we surrender is, as Phillips Brooks somewhere
says, "directly transmissible." I suspect that the ultimate
psychological principle at work here is that of the impulsiveness of
consciousness. But, whether that be true or not, the witness to this
contagion is wide-spread among students of men. "The greatest gift the
hero leaves his race," one of our great novelists says, "is to have
been a hero." In almost identical language, a great ethical and
philosophical writer adds: "The noblest workers of our world bequeath
us nothing so great as the image of themselves. Their task, be it ever
so glorious, is historical and transient, the majesty of their spirit
is essential and eternal."
But one might still think, here, only of an example. The other life,
however, must be more to me than mere example. For the highest
attainment in character I need the association of some highest one,
who will give himself to me unreservedly. Redemption to real
righteousness of life cannot be without cost to the redeemer. And it
is a psychologist, facing the ultimate problem of will-strengthening,
who urges in words that might seem almost to look to Christ: "The
prophet has drunk more deeply than any one of the cup of bitterness;
but his countenance is so unshaken, and he speaks such mighty words of
cheer, that his will becomes our will, and our life is kindled at his
own."[82] It _is_ the one great certain road to character--as it is to
appreciation of every value--to stay in the presence of the best, in
self-surrender to it. No wonder Christ said, "I am the Way."
1. _The Application to the Problem of Redemption._--It is hardly
possible to ignore this one great known law of character-making, which
the social consciousness so presses upon us, in any thinking that is
for a moment worth while concerning our redemption by Christ. And
whatever our point of view, this consideration ought to have weight
with us. Nay, must we not make it necessarily the very center of all
our thought here? For all the realities in this problem of redeeming a
man from sin to righteousness are intensely personal, ethical,
spiritual. Now, are we to reach a deeper view of redemption, by
turning away from the deepest ethical fact to the unethical? Do we so
ground our view the more securely? Is there something holier than the
holy ethical will seen realized in Christ's life and death? For, if it
is the will in his death by which we are sanctified,[83] there can be
no sharp separation of the life and death. Must we not rather expect
that the clearest light, on the holiest in God and our personal
relation to him, will be thrown by the holiest we know in life, in our
human personal relations?
Is not the precise method of redemption, then, to no small degree,
cleared for us right here, in this conviction of the social
consciousness of the contagion of the good in a self-surrendering
association--the only solidarity of which we can be certain? Christ
saves us, in the only certain way we know that any man is ever saved
to better living, through direct contagion of character, through his
immediate influence upon us. The power of the influence of a redeeming
person must depend upon two facts: the richness of the self that is
given, and the depth of the giving. The supremely redeeming power must
be the giving of the richest self, unto the uttermost. God has not yet
done his best for men, until he gives himself in the fullest
manifestation which can be made through man to men, and gives to the
uttermost, with no drawing back from any cost. Is it not because,
after all, back of all theories and even in spite of theories, men
have seen in the life and death of Christ just this eternal giving of
God himself, that they have been caught up into some sharing of the
same spirit, and so felt working directly and immediately upon them
the supremest redeeming power the world knows? The cross of Christ has
been God's not only _saying_, "I will help that child to conquer
himself, whatever it costs me," but God doing it, and perpetually
doing it. Not less than that must be the cost of a man's redemption.
Character is directly transmissible in an association in which there
is mutual self-giving. It is most easily so transmissible, only at its
highest, in its most perfect manifestation, in its completest
self-giving at any cost.
The self-giving on the part of one trying to win another into
character must precede the self-giving of the sinner; for the sinner's
own willingness to yield himself to the influence of the character of
the other must first of all be won. This initial winning of the
coöperative will of the other is the heart of the whole battle. And
here the power relied on is not only the unconscious contagion and
imitation of character that enlists a man's interest almost by
surprise, but also the mightiest influence men know in breaking down
the resisting will and winning men consciously and with final
abandon--the influence of a patient, long-suffering, persistent,
self-sacrificing love that cannot give the sinning one up.
Most certainly, then, redemption cannot be without cost to the
redeemer of men--not only that cost to the hero of the superior
showing of superior character in a superior task, but that other cost,
indissolubly linked indeed with this, of reverently, patiently, to the
bitter end, helping another to conquer himself--the inevitable
suffering of all redemptive endeavor for those whom one loves. This
involves (1) suffering in contact with sin, (2) suffering in the
rejection by those sinning, and most of all, (3) suffering in the sin
itself of those one loves because one loves them--suffering which is
the more intense, the more one loves.
2. _The Consequent Ethical and Spiritual Meaning of Substitution and
Propitiation._--Can we go yet a step farther here? It may be fairly
taken for granted that where the church has strongly and persistently
stood for certain modes of putting a doctrine--though the precise
putting may be unfortunate--that in all probability there is there
some real and important truth after which the consciousness of the
church is dimly feeling. Starting, now, from this same great law of
the contagion of character and the inevitable influence of an
association in which there is mutual self-giving, is it not possible
to show that there is a strict ethical and spiritual sense that we can
understand, in which Christ's suffering may be truly called vicarious,
and himself a substitute for us, and a propitiation?
It is, of course, not for a moment forgotten that, in Dr. Clarke's
language, "a God who will himself provide a propitiation has no need
of one in the sense which the word has ordinarily borne. Some richer
and nobler meaning must be present if the word is appropriate to the
case."[84] But it is not likely that a purely ethical and spiritual
view of the atonement, which sees the problem as a strictly personal
one--and this seems to the writer the only true position--can ever
succeed in the hearts of the great body of the membership of the
churches, if it cannot show, at the same time, that it is able in some
real way to take up into itself these thoughts of substitution and
propitiation. The writer finds much of the old language about the
atonement as offensive to his moral sense as any man well can. But
that there is an absolutely universal human need for something like
that to which the old language of substitution and propitiation
looked, he cannot doubt. It seems to show itself in this, that no man
with real moral sense, probably, cares to put himself at the end of
his life, say, in the attitude of the Pharisee rather than in that of
the Publican. If one sets aside all spectacular elements in the
judgment, and even denies altogether any great single final assize for
all men, still he cannot avoid the thought of some judgment upon his
life. As Dr. Clarke says again: "We are not our own masters in going
out of this world; we go we know not whither. Yet our going is not
without its just and holy method. Our place and lot in the life that
is beyond must be determined righteously, in accordance with the life
that we have lived thus far, that the next stage in our existence may
be what it ought to be."[85]
However, now, that judgment of God may be expressed, no man can hope
to face the test proposed by Christ in the twenty-fifth of Matthew,
still less the test implied in Christ's own life, and feel that he has
_already_ attained. He knows himself to be at best only a faulty
growing child, with some real spirit of obedience in his heart. And it
is particularly to be noted, that exactly that man must stand most
definitely for the reality of some genuinely ethical judgment, who has
most insisted upon the necessarily ethical character of the religious
life. Moreover, the normal experience of the deepening Christian life
is an increasing sense of sin. Upon this point, too, the social
consciousness is witness.
What, now, makes it possible for a man to expect, in any sense, a
favorable judgment of God upon his life? If God makes any separation
of men in the world to come, he certainly cannot divide them into
perfect and imperfect men. Judged by any complete standard, all are
imperfect. Or if, without separation, God in any sense, in the most
inner way, passes judgment, how does approval fall upon any? And upon
whom does it fall? Must not every man who wishes to be clear and
honest with himself fairly face these questions?
And Christ's own thought of God as Father must be our key here. And
the matter may well be counted worth a more careful analysis than it
often gets. How does a father distinguish between what he calls an
obedient and a disobedient child? Both are faulty. How in any fair
sense may one be called obedient? To the earthly father, that child is
called an obedient child, not who is deliberately setting his will
against his father's with no intention to coöperate with the father's
purpose for him, but whose loyal intention is to do the father's will,
really to coöperate with the father in the father's own purpose for
the child's life. When, now, this child is carried away by some gust
of temptation and disobeys, and then returns in penitence to the
father, evidently viewing the sin, so far as his experience allows, as
the father views it, and heartily putting it away, the father, _either
with or without penalty_, restores the child to full personal relation
to himself; and that is the vital point. And, though he neither judges
the past life as without failure, nor expects the future to be without
failure, he approves the child, as in a true sense obedient. He is an
approved child.
What is it that satisfies the father in such a case? Upon what does he
rely in his hope for matured character in the child? What, in biblical
language, "covers" for the father the actual disobediences of the past
and the certain disobediences of the future, and enables him in a
sense to ignore both in his approval of the child? Certainly, the
present purpose of the child, the child's honest intention to
coöperate with the father in the father's purpose for him. Yes; but as
certainly, it seems to the writer, _not that alone_. The father's hope
for his child's steady growth in righteousness depends not only on the
child's present intention, but much more upon the father's own
intention never to give up in his attempt at any cost to help that
child to conquer himself.[86] The father may be said here in a true
sense to propitiate himself; and his own fixed purpose has become a
partial substitute for the wavering purpose of the child.
And the child's full righteousness is seen, not merely in an attitude
of immediate present obedience, but especially in his loyal acceptance
of his filial relation--in his honest surrender to his father's
influence. And the father can now say, Because my child accepts
heartily his relation to me, and honestly throws himself open to it to
let it be to him all it can and work its own work in him, I may
approve him; for this relation to me which he so takes has only to go
on, to work out its complete results in a matured character. In the
hearty acceptance of this filial relation to me, there is contained
the promise of the end.
Just this attitude exactly, and no other, it seems to the writer, God
takes toward men in his revelation in Christ. Christ is God's own
showing forth of himself. "God was in Christ reconciling the world
unto himself."[87] "Propitiation," Beysclag truly says, "is blotting
out, making amends for sin in God's eyes. Now what can cover the sin
of the world in God's eyes? Only a personality and a deed which
contain the power of actually delivering the world from its sin."[88]
We have seen, it may be hoped, just how God's self-revealing in Christ
does have this actual power, and becomes, thus, a true propitiation in
the highest moral sense, in the only sense in which God can wish a
propitiation, and in the only sense in which we can ever need a
propitiation. Our final hope for that true salvation, which is the
sharing of the life of God and the involved likeness of character with
God, is in God's own long-suffering, redeeming activity. Only as
_that_ may be remembered, in connection with our surrender to it, may
we hope to stand approved before the judgment of God. We are not
judged alone before the judgment of God. In a very real sense the
judge himself stands with us. Not what God is able to believe about
this man thought of as standing alone, but what he may believe about
this man standing in a living, surrendering association with himself,
is the ground of judgment. We may not separate here the work of God
and the work of Christ, as the New Testament does not separate them.
In constant reliance upon the constant redeeming activity of the
Father here and hereafter, we children go hopefully on our way.
Put into the language of the blood covenant, where the blood has all
its significance as life--the giving of life, the sharing of life, the
closest and most indissoluble union of lives--this is to say, there is
no atonement, no reconciliation, no remission of sins, no
forgiveness--and these are all essentially identical terms--without
shedding of blood, that is, without complete giving of life on both
sides, Christ giving himself not only _for_ us in seeking us out, but
_to_ us in complete reconciliation and renewal of life. It means that
only God, the very life of God, sharing God's life, can really save
one from his sins. God must pour his life into one, and he does, in
Christ.
This seems to be the heart of the whole matter; but certain
considerations may be still added, as indicating how far a purely
ethical and spiritual view of the atonement may go, in meeting the
human need expressed in these older terms of substitution and
propitiation.
There must be a wrath of God against wilful sin, a complete
disapproval of it, and all the more because God loves the sinner. God
is a consuming fire for sin in us, because he loves us. That wrath
cannot be propitiated, that disapproval cannot be satisfied, in any
effective way, so long as the sin continues. The punishment of the sin
in its inevitable consequences, will go on in the very fidelity of
God. But for any real satisfaction of God, the sin itself must cease,
and there must be assurance of righteousness to come. The sinner must
come to share God's hatred of the sin and God's positive purpose of
love. Hence the expiation of the sin, the propitiation of the wrath of
God, the satisfaction of God--so far as these terms still have
meaning, and so far as they express Christ's work--consist (1) in
winning men to repentance, to sharing God's hatred of their sin, (2)
in helping men to a real power against sin, and (3) in the assurance
of perfecting righteousness which is contained in the relation to God
honestly accepted by men. When, now, the unfilial spirit is thus
changed into a completely filial spirit--through the fullest
acceptance by the child of the father's purpose for him, and through
the child's throwing himself completely open to the influence of the
father--the personal relation _is_ thereby inevitably changed,
personal reconciliation is achieved. It is impossible to think it
otherwise. And so the chief pain in the previous relation is done away
both for God and man; though the punishment, in the consequences of
sin in other respects, is not thereby set aside.
But, further, so far now as the power of this new personal relation to
God in Christ begins actively to counteract the consequences of sin in
us, as it will assuredly do, God's work in Christ becomes a direct
substitute for that punishment of us that would else inevitably
follow. And yet the process is wholly ethical; for the results of
righteousness can actually occur in us, only in so far as we come into
harmony with Christ's purpose for us.
Even so far, we may believe, does the social consciousness, in its
emphasis upon the mutual influence of persons go, in leading us into
the secret of the attainment of character--into the heart of God's
redemption of men.
IV. MUTUAL INFLUENCE FOR GOOD IN OUR PERSONAL RELATION TO GOD
What, now, in the second place, does the mutual influence of men for
good mean for theology in the individual relation to God? Here it may
be said at once, that faith is as directly contagious as character.
1. _In Coming into the Kingdom._--We are introduced through others
into all spheres of value, including friendship even with God. In the
atmosphere of those who already feel the value, our interest is
aroused; we find it possible at least to take those initial steps of a
dawning attention, which give the value opportunity to make its own
impression upon us, and bring us to an appreciation, to a faith of our
own. Only so is that most difficult of all tasks in the redemption of
a man--that first stirring of a new appetite, a new desire, a new
aspiration, a new ideal--accomplished.
We are members one of another here to an extent that deserves ever
fresh emphasis. We cannot too often say to ourselves, Had it not been
that there were those who actually entered into the meaning of the
revelation of God in Christ--who, in John's language, "beheld his
glory"--the record of that revelation never could have come down to
us. Christianity must have perished at its birth. "Hence," in the
vital language of Herrmann, "the picture of his inner life could be
preserved in his church or 'fellowship' alone. But, further, this
picture so preserved can be understood only when we meet with men on
whom it has wrought its effect. We need communion with Christians in
order that, from the picture of Jesus which his Brotherhood has
preserved, there may shine forth that inner life which is the real
heart of it. It is only when we see its effects, that our eyes are
opened to its reality so that we may thereby experience the same
effect. Thus we never apprehend the most important element in the
historical appearance of Jesus until his people make us feel it. The
testimony of the New Testament concerning Jesus is the work of his
church, and its exposition is the work of the church, through the life
which that church develops and gains for itself out of this treasure
which it possesses."[89]
The Christian is no Melchizedek, then, without father or mother; he
comes into life in a community of life, and usually, moreover, through
the personal touch of some other individual life. It is the one primal
law, of life through life.
2. _In Fellowship within the Kingdom._--And not only in coming into
the kingdom, but also within the religious fellowship of the kingdom,
we are emphatically members one of another. In bringing us into that
love which is God's own life, God evidently has no intention of
allowing us to cut ourselves off from our brethren, to climb up to
heaven by some little individual ladder of our own. That humility or
open-mindedness, which constitutes the first beatitude and the initial
step into the kingdom, and that self-sacrificing love, which
constitutes the last beatitude and the crown of the Christian life,
are both possible and cultivable only in personal relations to others.
No man ever got them alone. And, for this very reason, in the
discussion of the religious life, we found the New Testament guarding
most carefully against all over-estimation of marvelous experiences as
such. For these tended to make a man feel that he had such an
individual ladder of his own to heaven, and had no need, consequently,
of his brethren; and so led him into the very reverse of the
fundamental Christian qualities--into unteachableness instead of
humility and open-mindedness, and into censoriousness instead of love.
That objective attitude which is essential in all character and work
and happiness, cannot be unimportant in our specifically religious
life.
Even in this most individual relation to God, then, men's outlook is
varied and but partial. We need to share, and can share, one another's
visions. The meaning of the many-sidedness of even a great human
personality gets home to us only so--through the various impressions
gained by different men. Much more can God be revealed to us, even
approximately, only so. The great and surpassing value of the New
Testament lies exactly herein, that it gives the varied impressions
upon the first Christian generation of God's supreme revelation--the
most important individual reflections of Christ. The New Testament
comes to stand, thus, in no merely external and mechanically
authoritative relation to the life and faith of the church, but in the
most interior and vital relation. And Bible study gets a new
significance for us, as we see it, as at one and the same time our
chief way to our own vision of God's actual, concrete self-revelation,
and our deliverance from our merely subjective dreaming. We come to
share in some living way the vision of these others who have seen most
directly and most largely.
3. _In Intercessory Prayer._--One particular application to our
religious life, of this conviction of the social consciousness of our
mutual influence, seems worthy of mention--its bearing upon
intercessory prayer. Few other things in religion, one may suspect,
seem less real to modern men. Can we ground the matter a little more
deeply for ourselves, and give it reality, by showing its close
connection with this deep-rooted conviction of the social
consciousness?
We have already seen,[90] if character and love are to be realities to
us, if the world is to be a real training-ground for moral character,
and not a mere play-world--a nursery continually set to rights from
without, that we must all be most closely knit together; that our
choices must have effects in the lives of others; that we must be
bound up in one bundle of life. And we do affect one another's lives
in a thousand ways. In manifold directions we condition the happiness
and temptations of one another. The unspoken mood of another, an
expression of countenance, a tone, an emphasis, may affect our whole
day.
Now, if the spiritual world is real at all, it is to be counted upon.
Apparently, there is such a thing, for example, as a spiritual
atmosphere in an audience--not, it may well be supposed, a magical
matter, but really determined by the tone of the minds composing the
audience. The actual mood of the hearers and of the speaker makes a
difference. Results, great and important, are so changed often quite
unconsciously. It may well be that God is the medium in all this. The
attitude of the auditors is like unconscious, silent praying to
God--the praying of their life, of their spirit.
But, whether one cares to look at this special case in such a way or
not, we are, in any event, in our spiritual lives in the deepest way
members one of another. Our spiritual condition inevitably affects
others. We cannot sow to the flesh and reap life anywhere, in
ourselves or in others. This is particularly true, of course, of those
to whom we are bound in the closest life relations. That this is
absolutely true in normal personal relations, when we are in the
presence of our friends, all of us fully believe. The question simply
is, May this law of mutual influence hold of those bound up with our
lives even when they are distant from us or estranged? In giving the
privilege of intercessory prayer, it may well be believed, God simply
allows us to be, even then, what we are always so fully under other
circumstances--an influence upon them, a condition of the good and
growth of others. _He simply allows the regular law of the spiritual
and moral world to hold without exception._ We are still, though
distant or estranged, members one of another. It would be a very
human, defective, faulty God, who could not put us thus in touch with
our loved ones everywhere. But this is possible through _him_, and
therefore in prayer, and under strictly ethical and spiritual
conditions, and not as a matter of mere whimsical and wilful will on
our part, and it opens no door to magical superstition. Is not the
recognition of the place and value of intercessory prayer, then, an
only just extension of the prime conviction of the social
consciousness?
V. MUTUAL INFLUENCE FOR GOOD IN CONFESSIONS OF FAITH
Theology has, once more, in the third place, to recognize the
importance of mutual influence for good in confession of faith, in
creeds. When, to-day, we seek the common grounds of belief for
Christian thinkers, so far as the social consciousness really moves
us, we approach the problem in a way somewhat different from that of
previous generations. We do not now seek to elaborate a second, modern
Westminster confession; nor do we seek a mere average of Christian
ideas that in reality expresses no one's whole living thought. Still
less is there sought the barest minimum of Christian belief. Rather,
in harmony with the social consciousness, we seek a unity that is
organic. Our age, therefore, must recognize that, in the confession of
its faith as in all else, we are genuinely members one of another. The
unity sought not only tolerates differences, but welcomes and
justifies them, as themselves helps to a deeper unity. It believes in
equality, but not in identity.
It is true that Christianity looks everywhere to life; and we may be
sure that any statement of Christian doctrine that does not obviously
bear on living is still inadequate and incorrect. It is true that we
do well to emphasize the strictly religious and practical purpose of
the Bible; that the Bible is interested in both nature and history so
far and only so far as either reveals God and inspires to godly
living. It is true that in all Christian thinking Christ is our
ultimate appeal.
But, on the other hand, we must not confuse the issue. We cannot
expect agreement in detailed intellectual statements even with fullest
loyalty to Christ, and the most earnest desire after truth. To each
his own message. Nor can we confine, nor is it desirable to confine,
expressions of Christian faith to the merely practical side. We need
to seek to _understand_ the meaning of our Christian experience, not
only for the sake of our intellectual peace, but also for the sake of
deepening our Christian experience itself. Now, it is here contended
that in our confessions of Christian faith we need one another, and
that complete uniformity of belief and statement is both impossible
and undesirable.
1. _Complete Uniformity of Belief and Statement Impossible._--It is
impossible, for, in the first place, it is difficult, in any case, to
tell our real inner creed. Some of its most important articles are
quite certain to be implicit and unconfessed, even to ourselves. The
only important creed, in the case of the individual, is that which
finds its expression in life. There are assumptions implied in deeds
and spirit; and the spirit of a man throws more light on his real
creed than his formal statements do. His doctrines may be radical, his
spirit thoroughly constructive, or _vice versa_. If all thought tends
to pass into act, as modern psychology insists, we have a right to
urge that those articles of a man's creed which find expression in
living, are for him the really important articles. The will has a
creed, as well as the intellect, and the real creed is the creed of
life rather than of lips; it is wrought out, rather than thought out.
And this real, inner, living creed probably no man can state with
accuracy even in his own case. And if he is ever able even
approximately to do so, it will be at the end, rather than at the
beginning, of his life's work and experience.
Moreover, complete uniformity of belief and statement is impossible,
for, even exactly the same words cannot mean the same to different
individuals, for they are interpreted out of a different experience;
they cannot mean precisely the same thing, even to the same
individual, at different times, for his interpreting experience, too,
is a changing thing. We need sometimes to remind ourselves that there
is never any literal transfer of thought from mind to mind, still less
from statement to mind; all thinking of even the most passive kind has
an element of creation in it, for terms must be interpreted, and the
interpretation is inevitably limited by previous experience.
Sabatier[91] is quite right, therefore, in asserting that credal
statements must change their meaning just as words change. But it is
to be noted that this principle means not only that unalterable
doctrine, in this sense, is impossible between the generations; but
also that identical doctrine is impossible in the same generation.
Out of the different experiences, too, grow the different points of
view and the different emphases. And these different points of view,
and the different distribution of emphasis, give the same creed very
different meanings for different men. It is as impossible to avoid
this, as it is to avoid change and individuality. It is true of a
man's creed as of his environment, that the only effective portions
are those to which he attends--those which he emphasizes, not those to
which he gives a bare assent; and this varying attention and emphasis
cannot be the same in different individuals. The only logical outcome
of a thorough-going attempt to reach an identical creed is the church
of one member.
2. _Complete Uniformity of Belief and Statement Undesirable._--But
complete uniformity of belief and statement is not only impossible; it
is undesirable. For, in the first place, it is only by these differing
but supplementary finite expressions that we can approximate to the
infinite truth. Like Leibnitz's mirrors in the market-place, it is
only by combining the points of view of all that a complete
representation is possible. We need one another here, as elsewhere; we
need the fellowship of the church, and of the whole church; the
strictly individual view must be fragmentary. Our message needs the
supplement of the messages of others; through each member God has
something unique to say. They without us, we without them, are not to
be made perfect. We need to share, in such measure as is possible, the
experiences of others; but this is possible only through vital
contact.
Moreover, we are not to forget how truth comes--not by surrender of
convictions, not by the silence of each, but by each standing
earnestly for the truth which is given to him, in a union of
conviction and charity. For only he who has convictions can be
tolerant, as only he who has fears can be courageous.
Once more, we cannot and must not simply repeat each other. Nothing is
so fatal to spiritual life as dishonesty. To attempt an identical
creed involves something of such untrue repetition of the experience
of others. For, as Herrmann has said, doctrines are an expression of
life _already present_, and are of value only so; they are not
themselves a condition of life. If the doctrines we profess are not
the honest expression of a real life in us, they are a hindrance, not
a help. "Conscious untruth tends to drive from Christ."
For every one of these reasons, now, it is positively undesirable to
forbid varying theories or to check the varied expressions of
Christian faith, whether in accordance or not with certain standard
formulas. A growing life requires a growing expression, which must be
justified by its history, not dogmatically by reference to some
supposed fixed standard of doctrine in the past. The very meaning and
health of Christian fellowship demand that we should welcome and
encourage the honest expression of the varied manifestations of the
One Spirit, that we may be the more certain to get the whole truth,
the whole life which God intends. We are members one of another, in
doctrine as in life.
It becomes increasingly clear, thus, where the real Christian unity
is, and where the common grounds of Christian belief must be sought.
The real unity of Christians is in their common life, in the common
experience, in the possession of the common personal self-revelation
of God in Christ, in the inworking of the One Spirit. It is the
meaning of this one central Christian experience, which we strive to
express in our doctrinal statements. Our _expressions_ must vary; the
life, the personal relation to God, is one. The best analogy we have
of the case lies in what the same great friend means to different
persons. Our creeds are at best poor and partial expressions of the
meaning for us of the divine friendship, of God's self-revelation to
us. It is, then, precisely in our Christian experience and in that
personal relation to God revealed in Christ which makes a man a
Christian at all, that all the common grounds of Christian belief lie.
The solution of Christian unity here, that is, is not by increasing
abstraction, but by frank concreteness; not by false simplicity, but
by living fullness; not by relation to propositions, but by relation
to facts; not by emphasis on natural religion, but by emphasis on
historical religion; not by bringing nature into prominence, but human
nature; not by relation to things, but by relation to persons, to the
one great world fact, the one person, to Christ. "I am the Way." The
Christian faith is faith in a person; the Christian confession of
faith is confession of Christ. And if we are really in earnest with
this word Christian, we already have our basis of unity in our
personal relation to Christ, our common Lord. But that personal
relation to God in Christ is always more than a credal statement _can_
express, though we may never cease to attempt such expression; and for
the sake of the larger realization, by ourselves and by the church, of
the meaning of the personal relation to Christ, we must welcome every
honest expression of his Christian life by another. Altogether, we
shall at best but dimly shadow forth its full meaning.
And such a concrete relation to the personal Christ is a far better
test of genuine Christian faith than any creed, whether more or less
elaborate, since in the personal relation character inevitably comes
out; and any test that allows even for the moment the ignoring of the
ethical, cannot remain even intellectually adequate, for Christian
doctrine looks always and certainly to life. Even if one is thinking
_only_ of the correct intellectual expression of the common Christian
life--the maintenance of orthodoxy, so far as that is possible to
us--it should be remembered that the most conservative of all
influences is love of a person, and, by no means, subscription to a
set of propositions. Would Christ so think? Would he so speak?--these
are questions far more certain to keep Christian _thinking_ true, than
any intellectual test of man's devising.
We do not expect, therefore, we do not seek, any common grounds of
belief for Christian thinkers, other than are involved in the simple
fact that we are Christians at all, in the common recognition of the
revelation of God in Christ--of the Lordship of Christ. We confess
Christ. For, "no man can say, Jesus is Lord, but in the Holy Spirit."
And "other foundation can no man lay, than that which is laid, which
is Jesus Christ."
Now, in this common confession, it is here especially maintained, we
are, as everywhere, "members one of another" and need one another; and
the unity we seek, therefore, is not the unity of identical credal
statement--which can only make us isolated atoms not necessary to one
another--but the deeper and larger organic unity of the richly varying
manifestations of the common life in Christ. We may come, through the
witness of another, to an appreciation of Christ which is really our
own, but to which we should not have come if the other had not spoken.
Men do mutually influence one another for good, in their confessions
of Christian faith.
VI. THE CONSEQUENT IMPORTANCE OF THE DOCTRINE OF THE CHURCH
In this recognition of the vital and essential importance of mutual
influence in the attainment of character, in the individual relation
to God, and in creed, theology is brought to a new sense of the
significance of the doctrine of the church. On the one hand, it cannot
derive its importance from having to do with an unalterably fixed and
infallibly organized external authority; and, on the other hand, it
can be no longer an unimportant addendum concerned only with methods
of organization and government, and with ecclesiastical ordinances and
procedure. So far as the social consciousness has influence upon
theology at this point, theology must see that the doctrine of the
church is the doctrine of that priceless, living, personal fellowship,
in which alone Christian character, Christian faith, and Christian
confession can arise and can continue. The doctrine of the church
becomes thus the doctrine of the very life and growth of Christianity
in the world. It is the doctrine of the real kingdom of God, Christ's
own great central theme.
[78] Cf. above, pp. 35 ff.
[79] _The Elements of Sociology_, pp. 119, 120, 121.
[80] _The Ideal Life_, p. 149.
[81] _The Place of Christ in Modern Theology_, p. 455.
[82] James, _Psychology_, Vol. II, p. 579.
[83] Cf. Hebrews 10:10.
[84] _An Outline of Christian Theology_, p. 335.
[85] _Op. cit._, p. 459.
[86] Cf. Romans 8:26-39.
[87] II Corinthians 5:19.
[88] _The Theology of the New Testament_, Vol. II, p. 448.
[89] _The Communion of the Christian with God_, p. 61; cf. p. 87.
[90] Cf. above, p. 32.
[91] _The Vitality of Christian Dogmas and their Power of Evolution._