V Morality and Religion
V
MORALITY AND RELIGION
We have hitherto confined ourselves to the inner development of morality, without considering the attitude of the world around us and within us to those claims which morality, from its very nature, is bound to assert. At all times, this question has presented grave complications, which are magnified rather than diminished by the philosophy of the spiritual life.
If morality is the first condition and an essential factor of all independent spiritual life,—if this spiritual life is the central point of reality, and dominates all its manifestations: then we might expect to see, throughout the visible world, the triumph of good, the repression of evil, and the rule of a moral order of things, moulding reality to its requirements. Man's desire for such an order of things does not rise from petty motives, but from an imperative desire for the unquestioned supremacy of the good: what is in itself of such absolute value, must be strong enough to enforce its dominion over reality, otherwise it might come to be considered merely as a subjective illusion.
The world, as we see it, does not come up to this requirement. It evinces—as every impartial observer must acknowledge—absolute indifference, not only to the weal and woe of man, but also to his moral conduct. How often, in the destiny of nations as of individuals, does good succumb and evil triumph! It may be that we often judge too exclusively from external impressions, and that there is more justice in the world than appears at first sight. But this is no more than a possibility, and we cannot assert that it is in any way realised. Much remains dark, and has not been explained away, in spite of the efforts made by religion and philosophy during thousands of years. These efforts have made the darkness less evident, but have not brought light into it. We can deny neither the indifference of nature to our moral action, nor the incapacity of man to enforce, in his own sphere, the triumph and supremacy of the moral idea. And this gulf between what we must demand and what we find in the world, receives further accentuation by the recognition of an independent spiritual life closely allied to morality. For the impotence of morality now appears as the impotence of the whole spiritual life. At the same time, the human sphere seems to lose all its own special significance, since it cannot enforce universal recognition of the power to which it owes its privileged position.
Distressing as is this contradiction between the inner requirement and external experience, it does not necessarily lead to a weakening of the moral obligation. This is plainly shown by religion, more especially by early Christianity. The early Christians were fully conscious of the sorrow and gloom of human life; they realised the unreasonableness of the world we live in, quite as fully as the pessimists of our day. Yet their faith and courage remained unshaken. The contradiction of experience only intensified their inner conviction, and gave it an almost defiant superiority. This was only possible, because the possession of a new life and the certainty of a new world made it easy to bear all the contradictions in the existing order of things. From their certainty of a new world, arose the conviction that the good could only be impotent in a certain phase and for a certain time. The early Christians were so sure of the ultimate triumph of good, that they found strength to persevere in the battle of life.
The present time lacks this joyous certainty of a higher world and a new life. Therefore the contradiction between the course of the world and the requirements of morality, is felt in all its rigour, and doubt is intensified by the unsatisfactory moral condition of human life, by the inner weakness of morality in our day. Single individuals are not without good intentions, but they lack the power of achievement. Spiritual activity is generally treated as of secondary importance; infinitely greater value is attached to the natural self-preservation of individuals and of society. Life in the community ought to give greater prominence to moral claims, and be governed as far as possible by moral law. But on the one hand there is not enough power of volition, and on the other hand there is, here also, a wide gulf between volition and achievement. Social life also displays so much self-interest, selfishness, and passion, so much unreality and hypocrisy, that morality cannot reach any adequate development. The spiritual powers which should raise man to a higher plane are mostly withdrawn into the service of the lower plane, and life is thus diverted into wrong channels. This contradiction between human conditions and the requirements of morality has been expressed in various ways by the great thinkers. Plato lamented, above all, the evanescence and unreality of everyday life; Augustine the overweening conceit of man; Kant the insincerity and injustice everywhere apparent. But to one and all, the moral condition of mankind appeared most unsatisfactory.
All these contradictions, obstructions, and distortions are so deep-rooted, that we can hardly expect any essential progress to result from a gradual amelioration. In other directions—such as science and technical knowledge—humanity may make steady progress; but it is not so easy to prove that humanity will also experience moral improvement. The progress of civilisation brings with it the development of much that is good, but also of much that is evil, for civilisation develops great power, without providing for its moral guidance. History shows us how mankind has always seemed to alternate between periods of moral growth and periods of moral decay; but it is doubtful whether, on the whole, much has been gained. How often have the nations longed to return to simpler and more innocent beginnings!
All these impressions might seem to prove that morality has no power in the life of man. A doubt easily arises as to whether, if morality is so powerless, we ought to acknowledge it as the guide of our life, or whether we should not rather expel it as a mere illusion. But the experience of history shows us unmistakably that the roots of morality lie deeper, and are not so easily removed. Even if morality is not the ruling power, it is unquestionably efficacious as man's lawgiver and judge. Again and again, the nations may resist the claims of morality, and the conceptions of morality itself may be widely divergent; yet wherever human life develops, moral judgment develops with it. Certain actions are highly esteemed, others are decidedly condemned. Something operates in man which is not confined to his own interest, and which forces him to judge his actions. Such judgment must inevitably influence both the action and the spiritual condition of man; in one direction it promotes, in another it represses.
History gives us an indirect proof of the power of morality over man. There are times in the history of mankind when the moral idea, with its decree of duty, recedes into the background, and is even scoffed at as an irksome instrument of control. But such times, however brilliant on the surface, cannot resist inner decay and hollowness, till at last they become unendurable. Then, if there is a return to morality, it is superior to, and triumphant over all other interests. It was moral earnestness and moral strength that were above all instrumental in causing early Christianity to overcome the pagan world that was, in all outer respects, superior and more powerful. It was moral energy that gave the Reformation its power to advance and conquer, while the soft and beautiful Renaissance perished because it lacked morality. Look where we will, we see that the moral task, if fully and clearly grasped, is stronger than anything else.
It is therefore impossible for mankind to renounce morality. But we have seen that morality, as a rule, has little power over external life or man's soul, and is forced into a subordinate position. This produces inner discord in human life. Man acquires inner insincerity by not recognising and developing the depths of his own being. This inner contradiction can be fully appreciated by a system of philosophy which attaches special importance to the idea of the spiritual life. For in the light of such philosophy, we see one great contradiction pervading the whole of life: the spiritual activity—which ought to lead man to an independent inner life, thus making his existence one of joyous creative work—is used by average life as a mere means and instrument for human ends. Spiritual activity is thus degraded, for the good has mostly to give way to utilitarian considerations. This is the case, when the motive of scientific research is its utility, and not a desire for truth. This is the case, when art does not reveal a new world to man by means of genuine beauty, but appeals only to his senses. This is the case, whenever the subjective welfare of man—either of the individual or of society—is the highest aim,—whenever man is not led to a higher life by spiritual activity, but is only confirmed by it in the lower life.
Such conflicts, such inner discord, such stagnation of life impel morality to seek close contact with religion. We see that man has in himself an ideal, on which depends all the greatness and dignity of his life; but he cannot reach it unaided. Something strives to assert itself within him, without his being able to accomplish it. He remains chained to a lower level, above which his innermost soul longs to rise. Doubt and uncertainty proceed from the fact that what is of the very highest inner value should have so little power in the world and in the sphere of human life. For deep and earnest natures as St. Augustine and as Luther, such uncertainty has often become unbearable; from inner conflicts was born the sure and triumphant conviction of a higher power in the movement towards morality,—a power which not only imposes moral obligations on man, but which, by the revelation of a new life, gives him strength to fulfil them. Morality here appears as something infinitely superior to the uncertainty of human conditions, and completely independent of man's attitude towards it. If morality does not attain the power due to it in man's life, this is now attributed to the weakness, not of morality, but of man. The majesty of morality is by no means prejudiced by man's line of conduct. Kant could therefore declare that "it is most reprehensible to derive either the origin or any restriction of the laws telling me what I should do, from that which is done by others."
It is the essence of all deep religions, especially of Christianity, that a new life is created in man by a revelation of the Divine by means of a direct union of the soul with God. This new life is held to be superior to the complexity of existing conditions, and is sure to triumph, because it is founded in God. A source of life is thus opened up, which imparts new activity to the life hitherto stagnant. Man regains courage and confidence, because he feels himself sustained by divine strength and love. No contradiction in the world of external realities is now able to weaken man's inner certainty. A powerful impulse towards work and creative activity will be born of the gladness within him. This explains the unquestioning confidence and joyous energy manifested by all the leaders of religious life; the consciousness of their deliverance from dire distress filled them with unbounded gratitude, which sought expression in unremitting work for their fellow-men. Luther says: "From faith flow love and joy in the Lord, and from love a free and joyous spirit of voluntary service of our neighbour, quite irrespective of gratitude or ingratitude, praise or blame, gain or loss."
Further development of life by means of religion is sure to stamp morality with characteristic features. The consciousness of deliverance by a higher power will arouse not only gratitude, but humility and childlike confidence. If everything man has is but a gift, then he will see, in his highest achievement, less his own work than that of God. Gentleness and toleration will gain ground; arrogance and harshness will disappear; all decisive action will have an inner rather than an outer significance. The value of an action depends on loyalty to principle, and not on the greatness of what is achieved. This is shown by Jesus in the parable of the talents.
But this accentuation of softer elements and inner values by no means paralyses activity. For the new life must be energetically developed and bravely asserted against an alien, not to say a hostile, world. Man finds a great task, first of all in his own soul, but then in the whole of his life with other men. We may here apply a principle of the Reformation, which has thus been expressed: "The word of God comes to change and renew the world, whenever it comes." There is one thing on which a philosophy of the spiritual life must emphatically insist: this return to religion must not be confined to the individual, but must embrace all the conditions of human life. Only thus can the whole of man be won. This can only be done by creating a specific religious sphere of life, a specific religious community. Many of us may wish the Church to be, in certain respects, different to what it is; but that should not make us ignore the necessity of a religious community. It is indispensable, if we are to establish the new life in the human sphere, and bring it within the reach of the individual; it is indispensable, if the struggle is to be maintained by great entities, and is not to degenerate into small skirmishes. At the present time, when the state is engrossed by economic and other constantly changing problems of the day, we need a community which attaches paramount importance to the inner problems of humanity and which directs our life towards eternal aims and values.
In this union with religion, morality will be inclined to see more gloom than light in the life around us. For morality will then judge by higher standards, and will emphasise the insufficiency of human achievement, the unsatisfactory character of the present situation. But morality cannot lead to despondency, once it is emancipated from the world of immediate environment, and has gained a new world. Morality will then see, in the world of strife and antithesis, only a special kind of reality, and not the whole of reality; it will recognise in this world only one act of a great drama, and not the whole drama.
Much that is dark thus remains unexplained. To speak with Goethe, we "walk among mysteries." Even if we cannot enlighten what is dark, the new beginnings established in us will save us from becoming cowed and despondent. We are certain that great things are being accomplished in us and through us,—that a higher power is present within us throughout the struggles of our life. At the same time, we feel sure that our inner renewal is not mechanical, but requires our own decision and action, thus making us co-operate in the movement of the universe, and giving to our activity a significance for the whole. That must and that can be sufficient for us. We can agree with Luther, when he thus characterises human life: "It is not yet done and accomplished, but it is in working order and in full swing; it is not the end, but the way. All does not yet glow and shine, but all is being burnished."
We know that so close a connection between morality and religion is often contested nowadays. But we believe that religious morality can only be attacked by those who have too low an estimate of morality or too high an estimate of the actual condition of humanity. If morality is but a means of tolerable order in the social community of life, and is only looked upon as a controlling force, then it can dispense with religion. But this means a lowering of the moral requirement, the fulfilment of which brings but little gain or profit. It is possible, on the other hand, to value morality more highly, but to over-estimate man, as experience shows him to be. He is looked on as a good and noble being, easily won for the highest aims. Were this a true conception of man, then morality could attain its ends by its own strength alone. But we are clearly shown that this is not the case, both by the conviction of all great religious and philosophical teachers, and by the general impression of human life. At all times, the pessimists—and not the optimists—were held to have the best knowledge of human nature. We need only consider more closely the delineation of human life left us by the so-called optimistic philosophers (like Aristotle and Leibnitz), in order to see that even they found in it much that was dark and gloomy.
If we maintain a high conception of the moral task and an impartial conception of the actual condition of human life, there remains but one dilemma: either complete hopelessness and inner collapse of life, or the acquisition of further cohesions, such as that offered by an alliance with religion. But religion must then mean more than a sum of doctrines and institutions. It must influence the whole soul. It must not only cling to the past, but must, above all, be a power in the living present. It must not only be a source of comfort to individuals, but must raise the whole of mankind to a higher and purer level. In all these aspects, religion is both action and life, not mere thinking about the world, or subjective emotion. A connection of morality with religion thus understood, can be only a source of profit—not of loss—to morality, which will thus be strengthened in its bearing on external reality, and will experience a great deepening of its inner life.