The reign of superstition is not yet ended.
It is impossible for any great catastrophe, involving loss of property or life, to occur without a certain superstitious class harping upon the event as a judgment of God upon the wickedness of the victims. If a great city is swept away by the devouring elements, we hear the cry that “an offended Deity has visited the ‘Babylon of the West’ with his vengeance for her wickedness.” Some penurious wretch takes it up, and says, “I’ll give nothing, then, to the victims of the fire. It is God’s judgment; I won’t interfere.” A rich man is murdered in cold blood, and the same howl goes up, “It is the judgment of God upon him for heaping up riches.” The fact of his riches going to thousands of poor artisans, actors, musicians, widows, orphans, and “western Babylonian sufferers,” goes for nothing with such people. These same superstitious wretches have not yet done asserting that the assassination of President Lincoln was in judgment for his attending a theatre.
Twenty-five persons were killed in a church at Bologna, recently, while kneeling in prayer. Was this an expression of God’s wrath upon church-goers?
“The laws by which God governs the universe are inexorable. The frost will blight, the fire destroy, the storms will ravage, disease and death will do their appointed work, though narrow-mindedness and bigotry misconstrue their intent. All things are for good. If natural laws are violated, the known and inevitable result follows.”
I have already exceeded the space to which this chapter was limited, and there are a thousand superstitious beliefs and practices which are not herein enumerated nor explained. But rest assured that nothing exists without its uses, without the knowledge of the divine Author, and nothing supernatural does or ever did exist amongst natural beings. There is nothing within this world but what God has placed for man’s good. There is nothing here past man’s ability to fathom. God is love.
What there is beyond this world, we shall find out quite soon enough.
