“Shall we organize a church, ‘fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?’”
“There have been churches and churches. It would be vain for me to attempt to prove to you, a theologian and a churchman, that this you call the ‘Bride of Christ’ is imperfect or lacking in any energy of reform; but, though I heartily confess ’tis the choicest institution this side of the stars, yet I see it professing to have heavenly charity, abounding light, and measureless joys, leaving the needy without hospitals, the heathen in ignorance, and most of the world, including many churchmen, famishing for happiness. The trouble is, it infolds too many wolves and repels too many lambs. Your flocks are too much given to atoning for lean living by fat believing; memorizing huge creeds instead of incarnating them; putting their faith-confessions into themselves rather than themselves into their faith professions. You churchmen shut your ears to friendly criticism, sneer at those that censure, and in branding such heretics proclaim yourselves infallible. I’d not be a vaporing railler, but I hear within your ecclesiastical bodies of warring factions, of ambitious and multitudinous leaders, a proof that they are of the church militant; though theirs is an internecine militating. I doubt if there has existed Christ’s ideal of a church since Pentecost. He gave a glimpse of its true outlines there, and it will yet come in its power and splendor; then, for the pæans!”
“You’d organize, perhaps, a Vestal Band?”
“Vestals?”
“Yes; an union of women of pure hearts, committed solely to such works as those performed in part by the holy sisters of our church fraternities.”
“I revere such as are thus engaged with all my heart; but, churchman, you are narrow in your plan; even Pagan Rome, which honored Vesta, the fire goddess, by having an altar to her in every community, held that the State was a great family, and placed Vesta, the goddess of virginal purity, near the Penates, or gods of the household and family.”
“I see nothing now in this juxtaposition.”
“They saw that there was ruin to all society if their girls were impure; hence buried alive a Vestal, if she fell from her vow of chastity. You have heard, Cornelius, how good Romans were wont to invoke, often, as their family guardians, the manes of their departed kin; and this very naturally; they held to the belief that the family tie, the finest, strongest known among men, outlived, by virtue of its heavenliness, the shock of death. Imperial Rome trusted much its all-conquering swords, for this life, but for the life to come it appealed to Jupiter omnipotent or Minerva, the all-wise. No, no, a ‘Vestal Society,’ such as you imply, would not suffice. I’ve a broader clientage and vaster scheme in mind, good churchman husband—”
“Shall I venture another guess?”
“It would be needless. Let me explain myself fully. Good Father Adolphus, founder of Bozrah’s ‘Balsam Band,’ which he sometimes called ‘nursing preachers,’ told me that in olden times there was in this country a fraternity of women, banded together to perform works of charity. They were remembered chiefly for their helpfulness to those that were in direst need and utterly friendless. They befriended criminals and social outcasts. He said that the women of Jerusalem who followed Christ weeping, were, probably, of that fraternity, since it was the custom of that pious company to offer their tears for those on the way to execution. More, these women were wont to furnish the pain-dulling herbs to victims dying condemned. You remember the Christ was offered such herbs? When I remember the spirit that actuated Martha and Mary, I readily believe they were members of that pious fraternity. More, when I remember how, for His own dear sake, they ministered to His human wants, there comes to my mind the possibility of a perpetual organization, for God’s sake, ministering to human want, taking the home as its palace, and to be known to the world by the expressive, winning title, ‘Sisters of Bethany.’”