Are Catholics--"
"Now Erik if you can't be quiet, you must go out with the rest of it. Where was it we left off?" But Odegaard, much to his amusement had been following Erik, and could not remember. Then it came peacefully from the shawls: "I was saying that THAT cannot give rest or be the fruit of our labours, that--"--"Now I remember: that there was temptation in,--and then Erik came and proved that there may also be temptation in prayer. Let us therefore see, what these things may lead to. Have you ever observed that cheerful men work better than the dejected? Why?"
Lars caught the drift of this: "It is religion that makes us cheerful," he said.--"Yes, when it is not desponding; but have you never seen that there is a religion that makes everything so gloomy, that the world itself is like a prison?"
Else was sighing so, that the shawls began to move, Lars also looked sharply at her, and she gave over.--Odegaard continued: "Always the same, whether it is work, prayer, or play, makes you stupid and gloomy. You may grovel in the earth till you become an animal, pray till habit makes you a monk, and play till you are nothing better than a doll. But combine them and the mind is strengthened; work prospers, and religion becomes more cheerful."--"Then we have to be cheerful now!" said the young man, and smiled.--"Yes, and then you too would win sympathy: for it is only when we are cheerful, that we can see and admire the good in others, and only by loving others that we can love God."
As no one at once contradicted this, Odegaard made a second attempt to bring the bundle to the point; "Those things that disenthral, so that the Holy Spirit can work in us, (for in bondage He cannot work) those things that assist us, must have a blessing in them,--and that this does." The dean rose, he had again a pipe to put out.
In the silence which followed, unbroken by sighs, one could see the shawls working, and at last there issued softly: "It is written: 'Whatsoever thou doest, do all to the glory of God,'---but is worldly song, and music and dancing to the glory of God?" "Directly, no;--but may we not ask the same when we eat and sleep and dress? And yet these MUST be done. The meaning therefore can only be, that we shall do nothing that is sinful."--"Yes, but is not this sinful?"
For the first time Odegaard grew a little impatient, and he merely replied: "We see in the bible, that both singing and music and dancing were used."--"Yes, to the glory of God."--"Very well,--to the glory of God. But the reason why the Jews named GOD in everything, was because, like children, they had not learnt to make distinctions. To children, every man they do not know is 'the man,'--to the child's question, 'Where does, this come from, where that?' we answer always: 'from God'; but as men to men we name the intermediate as well, and not God the giver alone. So, for example, a beautiful song may relate to God, or lead to Him, even if His name never occurs in it; for there is much that points thither, although not directly. Our dancing, when it is the pure healthful enjoyment of the innocent, is, even if not directly, to the praise of Him who has given us health, and loveth the child in our hearts."
"Hear that, hear that!" said the dean; he knew that he himself had long misunderstood these things, and misrepresented them to others.
All this time, Lars had been sitting and thinking, now he was ready; the corn had fallen from the high forehead, to the short peevish face; there it had been crushed and ground, and now fell out: "Then all sorts of stories, tales, and nonsense,--all the fiction and invention that they fill the books with now-a-days, are they also allowable? Is it not written: 'Every word that proceedeth out of thy mouth shall be truth?'"
"I really thank you for this. You see it is with the mind as with the house you dwell in. If it was so narrow that you could scarcely get your head in and your legs stretched out, you would be obliged to widen it. And fiction elevates the mind and enlarges it. If those ideas were falsehood that are above absolute necessity, then those which ARE absolute necessity would surely become falsehood too. They would thus press you down in your house of clay that you would never reach eternity, and yet it was just there you wished to be, and it was these very same thoughts, that in faith should bear you thitherward."--"But fiction is something that has verily never been, and so it must surely be falsehood?" said Randi thoughtfully.--"No, it has often greater truths for us than that which we see," answered Odegaard. Here they all looked at him doubtfully, and the young man threw out: "I never knew before that the story of Askeladden was truer than that which I see before my eyes."--They all tittered.--"Then tell me if you always understand that which you see before your eyes?"--"I am not learned enough for that!"--"Oh, the learned certainly understand it still less! I mean those things in daily life that give us sorrow and trouble, and that 'worry us sore,' as the saying is. Are there not such things?" He did not reply, but from the bundle it sounded earnestly: "Yes, often."--"But if you heard a fictitious history, that resembled your own in such a way, that as you heard it, you understood your own,--would you not say of this story,--which gave you the comfort and encouragement that understanding gives--would you not say that it had greater truth for you than your own?"--"I once read a story," said Else, "that helped me so in a great sorrow, that that which had long been a trouble seemed almost a joy." It coughed from the bundle;--"Yes, that is true," she added timidly.