The health department of a modern city is charged with a double duty:
it has to care for cases of disease, and it has to suggest and enforce
laws to keep the city sanitary. The former task—the treatment of
sickness—is much more widely recognized as the proper function of the
medical profession; the latter—the prevention of the causes of
illness—is a newer, but a more far-reaching, undertaking. When Pasteur
was carrying on his investigations into the origins of certain diseases,
most of the leading physicians and surgeons made light of his work: "How
should this chemist, who cannot treat the simplest case of sickness nor
perform the most trifling operation, have anything to contribute to
medical science?" But Pasteur's discovery of the part played by bacilli
not only altered profoundly the work of physicians and surgeons, but
opened up the larger task of preventive medicine.
Religion must
always be personal; each must respond for himself to his highest
inspirations. A child may confuse the divine voice with that of its
parents, through whom the divine message comes; but a day arrives when
he learns that God speaks directly to him, perhaps differently from the
way in which his parents understand His voice, and he must listen for
himself alone. A Job may take at second-hand the conventional views of
God current in his day, and through them have some touch with the
Divine; but this will seem mere hearsay when the stress of life compels
him to fight his way past the opinions of his most devout friends to a
personal vision of God. Religious experience is hardly worthy the name
until one can say, "O God, Thou art my God." There is no sphere
of life in which a man is so conscious of his isolation as in his
dealings with his Highest. The most serious decisions of his life—his
apprehension of Truth, his obedience to Right, his response to Love—he
must settle for himself.
Space is but narrow—east and
west—There
is not room for two abreast.
"
Each one of us
shall give account of himself to God." In our consciousness of sin, in
our penitence, in our faith, others may stimulate and inspire us, may
point the way saying, "Behold the Lamb of God," may go with us in a
common confession of guilt and a common aspiration towards the Most
High, but we are hardly conscious of their fellowship; it is the living
God with whom we personally have to do.
Points have we all of us within
our souls
Where all stand single.
The Gospel comes as a summons to men one by one. Christ knocks at
each man's door, offering the most complete personal friendship with
him. Were there but a single child of God astray, the Good Shepherd
would adventure His life for him, and there is joy in the presence of
the angels over one sinner that repenteth.
The Evangel has always been good news to sinning people who wished to
be different. In Adam Bede Mrs. Poyser says of Mr. Craig, "It was
a pity he couldna' be hatched o'er again, and hatched different." The
Gospel claims to be the power of God which
can make the worst and lowest of men—an
Iago or a Caliban—into sons of the Most High in the measure of the
stature of the fulness of Christ.
This has seemed incredible to most outsiders. Celsus in the Second
Century, in his attack on Christianity, wrote, "It must be clear to
everybody, I should think, that those who are sinners by nature and
training, none could change, not even by punishment—to say nothing of
doing it by pity." Dickens' Pecksniff "always said of what was very bad
that it was very natural." But it has been the glory of the Gospel that
it could speak in the past tense of some at least of the sins of its
adherents: "such were some of you." Individual regeneration will
ever remain a large part of God's work through His Church. Unless we can
raise the dead in sin to life in Christ, we have lost the quickening
Spirit of God; so long as the world lieth in wickedness, every follower
of Jesus must go with Him after men one by one, to seek and to save that
which was lost.
But a man's religious experience is vitally affected by social
conditions. Moses' protest against the slavery of the Israelites in
Egypt sprang from his feeling that
it hindered their fellowship with God. "Let My people go," he felt God
saying, "that they may serve Me." Mencius, the Chinese sage,
wrote: "If the people have not a certain livelihood, they will not have
a fixed heart. And if they have not a fixed heart, there is nothing
which they will not do in the way of self-abandonment. An intelligent
ruler will regulate the livelihood of the people, so as to make sure
that, above, they have sufficient wherewith to serve their parents, and,
below, sufficient wherewith to support their wives and children; that in
good years they shall always be abundantly satisfied, and that in bad
years they shall escape the danger of perishing. After this he may urge
them, and they will proceed to what is good." Christian workers, today,
know well how all but impossible it is to get a man to live as a
Christian, until he is given at least the chance to earn a decent
living.
But we have to be on our guard lest we overemphasize the force of
circumstances either to foster or hamper a man's fellowship with God.
The life of Jesus is the irrefutable argument that the Lord's song may
be sung in a strange land.
It is always possible to be a Christian under the most unfavorable
conditions, provided the Christian does not shirk the inevitable cross.
But the social order under which men live shapes their characters. Ibsen
calls it "the moral water supply," and religion is intensely interested
in the reservoirs whence men draw their ideals.
A glance over a few typical forms of social order will illustrate its
influence on character:
Perhaps the noblest society of antiquity was the Greek city state. It
expected its citizens to be all of them warriors, statesmen,
legislators, judges. It set a premium upon the virtues of courage,
self-control, justice and public spirit. It delivered its citizens from
that "greasy domesticity" which Byron loathed in the typical Englishman
of the Georgian epoch, and made them civic minded. But its ideal was
within the attainment of but a fraction of the population. The slaves
had no incentive to these virtues; and it is estimated that in Athens in
the Fourth Century B.C. there were 400,000 slaves and 100,000 citizens.
The many did
the
hard work, debarred from the highest inspirations, in order that the
privileged few might have freedom to achieve their lofty ideals. And
outside the state, or the Greek world, the rest of mankind were classed
as "barbarians," to whom no Greek ever thought of carrying his ideals.
Nominally Christian Europe in the Middle Ages presented in the Feudal
System a different type of society. A vast hierarchy in Church and
State, with the pope and emperor at the top, ran down through many
gradations to the serf at the bottom. It was an improvement on the
little Greek state in that it embraced many more in a single order and
bound them together with common faith and standards. It prized not the
civic virtues, but the militarist qualities of loyalty, obedience,
honor, chivalry. Its typical hero is the Chevalier Bayard, the good
knight without fear and without reproach. But a career like his is
manifestly possible only to a few. The agricultural laborer chained to
the soil, and the trader—often the despised Jew confined to the
Ghetto—had no part in the life of chivalry. Outside of Christendom the
Saracen was to
be
converted or slain, and he was far oftener slain than converted.
Under the revival of classical ideals at the Renaissance, in the new
emphasis upon individual rights born of the Reformation, in the
rebellion of the Puritan English and Scotch against the divine right of
kings and bishops to rule them against their conscience and will, in the
Revolution of 1789 and the Napoleonic wars, the Feudal System passed,
and the commercial order took its place. Its cherished virtues are
initiative, industry, push, thrift, independence. As its beau ideal
it substitutes for the Chevalier Bayard the successful business man. It
sincerely tries to open its privileges to everyone; and under favorable
circumstances, in Revolutionary America for instance, its ideals were
accessible to practically every white inhabitant. The Comte de Ségur,
one of the young French officers who came to take part in our War of
Independence, wrote: "An observer fresh from our magnificent cities, and
the airs of our young men of fashion—who has compared the luxury of our
upper classes with the coarse dress of our peasants and the rags of our
innumerable
government agents, and the exported
vices of civilization.
Christianity has a social order of its own—the Kingdom of God. It is
not an economic system, nor a plan of government, but a religious
ideal—society organized under the love of God revealed in Christ. This
ideal it holds up in contrast with the existing social order in any age
as a protest, a program and a promise.
The Kingdom protests against any features in prevailing
conditions that do not disclose Christlike love. It scans the industrial
world of today, and finds three fundamental evils in it: competition as
a motive, arraying man against man, group against group, nation against
nation, in unbrotherly strife; gain-seeking as the stimulus to effort,
inducing men to invest capital, or to labor, primarily for the sake of
the returns to themselves; and selfish ownership as the reward of
success, letting men feel that they can do as they please with their
own. Certain callings, upon which the Christian Spirit has exerted a
stronger influence, have already been raised above the level of the
commercial world. It is not good form professionally
world a battlefield, instead of a
household of co-working children of God.
It scans international relations, and finds patriotism still a pagan
virtue. Mr. Lecky calls it "in relation to foreigners a spirit of
constant and jealous self-assertion." When a tariff is under discussion,
high, low or no duties are advocated as beneficial for the industries of
one's own country, regardless of the welfare of those of other lands.
The scramble for colonies with their advantages to trade, the
imperialistic spirit that seizes possessions without respect to the
wishes of their inhabitants, the endeavor to secure in other countries
special concessions or large business orders at an extraordinary profit,
are all sanctified under the name of patriotism. The peace of the world
is supposed to be maintained by keeping nations armed to the teeth, so
that rival powers will be afraid to fight, and huge armies and navies
are labelled insurance against war. A sentence in a letter of Erasmus
has a singularly modern sound: "There is a project to have a congress of
kings at Cambrai, to enter into mutual engagements to preserve peace
with each other and through Europe. But cer
tain
persons, who get nothing by peace and a great deal by war, throw
obstacles in the way." The armament argument for peace has been given
its reductio ad absurdum; but it is by no means clear that the
world-wide war will free the nations from the burdensome folly of
keeping enormous armies and navies. As Christians we must protest
without ceasing that international relations, based on mutual fear and
maintained by the use of brute force, can never furnish the peace of
Christ.
It scans the system of justice in its treatment of the wrong-doer,
and declares that the crude attempt to fit the punishment to the crime,
and to protect society by deterrent penalties, is not the justice of Him
who is "faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from
all unrighteousness." Divine justice is redemptive; and society, if it
wishes to be Christian, must pay the heavy cost of making all its
contacts with the imperfect transforming.
It scans the educational institutions of our land, and sees many
students viewing learning only with reference to its immediate
commercial availability, spurning all studies
as "unpractical" which do not supply
knowledge that can be coined into financial returns; and it sees many
others without intellectual interest, prizing schools and colleges
merely for their social pleasures, lazily choosing courses which require
a minimum of labor, and disesteeming the great opportunities of culture
and enrichment provided by the sacrificial studies and labors of the
past. It insists that a moral revival is needed for an intellectual
renaissance. All students must be baptized with a passion for social
service, before studies that enrich the mind and enlarge the character
will be pursued with eager devotion. The blight of irresponsibility is
almost universal upon the students in the higher educational
institutions of our country.
So the Christian social order contrasts itself with every phase and
aspect of our present life, and exposes the impoverishing absence of the
Spirit of God. Its protest is reinforced by widespread social
restlessness and the feeling that the existing state of things has gone
into moral bankruptcy.
But the Kingdom of God is no mere protest; it is a program of
social redemption.
religious sect; never one worse to
found and direct a commonwealth."
Jesus' teaching concerning the Kingdom of God is contained in a
handful of parables and picturesque sayings. It attempts no detailed
account of a Utopia; it lays down no laws; it offers the world a spirit,
which in every age must find a body of its own. But this indefiniteness
does not fit it the less, but the better, as the inspiration to social
reconstruction. It affords scope for variety and endless progress. It
can take up the social ideals of other ages and of other civilizations,
and incorporate whatever in them is congruous with the Christian social
order. The ideals of Greece and Medieval Europe and of our present
commercialism, and the ideals of China, India and Japan, are not to be
thrown aside as rubbish, but reshaped and "fulfilled" by Christlike
love. It does not stultify human development by establishing a rigid
system; but entrusts to thoughtful and conscientious children of God the
duty of constantly readjusting social relations, so that they are
adequate expressions of their Father's Spirit. In every age Christians
are compelled not only to voice their protest
rest; in international relations where
every nation comes not to be ministered unto but to minister, and loves
its neighbors as itself—to ask that we seriously try the social order of
love. John Bright, unveiling the statue to Cobden in the Bradford
Exchange, said, "We tried to put Holy Writ into an act of Parliament."
We want the mind of Christ put into commerce, laws, pleasures and the
whole of human life.
And we come forward with confidence, because the Kingdom we advocate
is not merely a protest and a program, but also a divine promise.
The ideal of the Kingdom of heaven to which our consciences respond is
for us a religious inspiration, and has behind it a faithful God who
would not deceitfully lure us to follow an illusive phantom. "According
to His promise we look for new heavens and a new earth wherein dwelleth
righteousness." The city of our hope has not been designed by us, but
has been already thought out in God's mind and comes down out of heaven.
In our attack upon existing injustices and follies we raise again the
believing watchword of the Crusaders, "Deus vult" In our attempt
to rear
the order
of love, which cynics pronounce unpractical, we fortify ourselves in the
assurance that it is God's plan for His world, and that we shall
discover a preëstablished harmony between the Kingdom of heaven and the
earth which we with Him must conform to it. We encourage ourselves by
recalling that, in the hearts of men everywhere and in the very fabric
and structure of things, we have countless confederates.
On one of Motley's most glowing pages, we are told how, after the
frightful siege and fall of Haarlem, and with Alkmaar closely invested
by the Duke of Alva, when the cause of the Netherlands seemed in direst
straits, Diedrich Sonoy, the lieutenant governor of North Holland, wrote
the Prince of Orange, inquiring whether he had arranged some foreign
alliance, and received the reply: "You ask if I have entered into a firm
treaty with any great king or potentate; to which I answer, that before
I ever took up the cause of the oppressed Christians in these provinces,
I had entered into a close alliance with the King of kings; and I am
firmly convinced that all who put their trust in Him shall be saved by
His almighty
hand.
The God of armies will raise up armies for us to do battle with our
enemies and His own." And the opening of the dykes brought the very sea
itself to the assistance of the brave contestants for truth and liberty.
The prayer on our lips, "Thy Kingdom come," we believe to be of God's
own inspiring. The social order which we seek is His eternal purpose;
and it has sworn confederates in sun and moon and stars of light, and in
every human heart. We wait patiently and we work confidently, in the
assurance that the God and Father of Jesus Christ, the Lord of heaven
and earth, will not fail nor be discouraged, until He has set His loving
justice in the earth, and His will is done among all the children of
men, as it was once done by His well-beloved Son.