[29] Sir James Mackintosh.
CHAPTER I. SCIENCE OF RELIGION.
"And therefore the doctrine of the one (Christ) was never afraid of universities, or endeavoured the banishment of learning like the other (Mahomet.) And though Galen doth sometimes nibble at Moses, and, beside the apostate Christian, some heathens have questioned his philosophical part or treatise of the creation; yet there is surely no reasonable Pagan that will not admire the rational and well-grounded precepts of Christ, whose life, as it was conformable unto his doctrine, so was that unto the highest rules of reason, and must therefore flourish in the advancement of learning, and the perfection of parts best able to comprehend it."
Sir Thomas Browne.
Religion has suffered from nothing, throughout all Christendom, more than from its science having been mixed up with its spirit and practice. The spirit and practice of religion come out of morals; but its science comes out of history also; with chronology, philology, and other collateral kinds of knowledge. The spirit and practice of religion are for all, since all bear the same relation to their Creator and to their race, and are endowed with reason and with affections. But the high science of religion is, at present at least, like all other science, for the few. The time may come when all shall have the comprehension of mind and range of knowledge which are requisite for investigating spiritual relations, tracing the religious principle through all its manifestations in individuals and societies, studying its records in many languages, and testing the interpretations which have been put upon them, from age to age. The time may possibly come when all may be able thus to be scientific in theology: but that time has assuredly not arrived. It is so far from being at hand, that by far the largest portion of christian society seems to be ignorant of the distinction between the science of theology and the practice of religion. The scientific study and popular administration of religion have not only been confided to the same persons, but actually mixed up and confounded in the heads and hands of those persons. Contrary to all principle, and to all practice in other departments, the student who enters upon this science is warned beforehand what conclusions he must arrive at. The results are given to him prior to investigation; and sanctioned by reward and punishment. The first injury happens to the student, under a method of pursuing science as barbarous as any by which the progress of natural knowledge was retarded in ages gone by. The student, become an administrator, next injures his flock in his turn, by mixing up portions of his scholastic science with religious sentiment. He teaches dogmatically that which bears no relation to duty and affection; requiring assent where, for want of the requisite knowledge, true assent is impossible; where there can be only passive reception or ignorant rejection. The consequences are the corruptions of Christianity, which grieve the spirit of those who see where and how the poison is mixed with the bread of life.
The office of theological science is to preserve,—we must now say to recover,—the primary simplicity of Christianity. It is a high and noble office to penetrate to and test the opinions of ages, in order to trace corruptions to their source, and separate them from the pure waters of truth. It is a high and noble task to master the associations of the elder time, and look again at the gospel to see it afresh in its native light. It is a high and noble task to strip away false glosses, not only of words but of ideas, that the true spirit of the gospel may shine through the record. But these high and noble labours are but means to a higher and nobler end. The dignity of theological study arises from its being subservient to the administration of religion. The last was Christ's own office; the highest which can be discharged by man: so high as to indicate that when its dignity is fully understood, it will be confided to the hands of no class of men. Theologians there will probably always be; but no man will be a priest in those days to come when every man will be a worshipper.
On some accounts it may seem desirable that the theologians of this age should be the clergy. It was once desirable; for reasons analogous to those which constituted priests once the judges, then the politicians, then the literati of society. It has been, and is, the plea that those who professed to clear Christianity from its corruptions, and to master its history, were the fittest persons to present it to the popular mind.
If this were ever the case, the time seems to have passed by. The press affords the means of placing the clear results of theological inquiry in the hands of those whom they concern. There seems to be no other relation between the theologian, as a theologian, and the worshipper, which should constitute him the organ of their worship. The habits of mind most favourable to the pursuit of theological study are not those which qualify for a successful administration of religious influences. This is proved by fact; by the limited efficacy of preaching, and by the fatal confusion which has been caused by the clergy having given out fragments of their studies from the pulpit, with annexations of promise and threatening. It does not follow that the administrators should be ignorant; only that their knowledge should be other than scholastic and technical. The organ of a worshipping assembly should be furnished with the clear results of theological study; and with such intellectual and moral science as shall enable him, if his sympathies be warm enough, to identify himself with the mind and heart of humanity. He must have that knowledge of men's relations and interests in life which shall enable him to look into infinity from their point of view; to give voice to whatever sentiments are common to all; to appeal to whatever affections and desires are stirring in all. For this purpose, he must be practically engaged in the great moral questions of the time, carrying the principles of religion into them with his whole experimental force; and bringing out of them new light whereby to illustrate these principles, new grounds on which to reason in behalf of duty, and new forces with which to animate the convictions of his fellow-worshippers into practice.
The fluctuations through which the Methodist body in America, as well as elsewhere, is arriving at the true principle as to the ministering of religion, are well known. First, they clearly saw the corruption of christian doctrine and the deadness of religious service which must follow from putting closet students into the pulpit: and, holding the belief of immediate and special inspiration, they abjured human learning. The mischiefs which have followed upon the ministry of ignorant and fanatical clergy have converted large numbers to the advocacy of human learning. It will probably yet be long before they can put in practice the true method of having one set of men to be theologians, and another to be preachers or other organs of worship. The complaint of every denomination in the United States is of a scarcity of ministers. This is so pressing that, as we have seen in the case of the Catholics, the term of study is shortened. Now seems the time, and America the place, for dispensing with the formalities which restrict religious worship. It would be an incalculable injury to have theological study brought to an end by every youth who devotes himself to it being called away to preach, before he can possibly possess many of the requisites for preaching. It would be far better to throw open the office of administration to all who feel and can speak religiously, and so as to be the genuine voice of the thoughts of others. Even if it were necessary to reconstitute religious societies, making the meetings for worship smaller, and the exercises varying with the nature of the case, there could no evil arise so serious as the interruption of theological study, and the deterioration of public worship. In the wild west, where the people can no more live without religion than they can anywhere else, the farmer's neighbours collect around him from within a circuit of thirty miles, and he reads or speaks, and prays, and they are refreshed. If this is not done, if it is not frequently done, the settlers become liable to the insanity of camp-meetings and revivals. If the national want can be thus naturally supplied in the heart of the forest or prairie, why not also in the city? The city has the advantage of a greater number of persons qualified to express the common desires, and meet the common sympathies of the worshippers.