Brook Farm: Historic and Personal Memoirs

by John Thomas Codman

His followers have since grown to cover great continents; whole nations acknowledge those few words of his as their most sacred possession; great temples are built in which his life and death are solemnly commemorated, and men gladly yield their hard-won treasure to carry his history to distant regions that his name has never reached. And yet, my friends, where is that kingdom of peace and love; where, where in the whole wide world is the will of God done as it is in heaven? Is it even thought of as anything but a dream, an impossibility? Does not a sceptical smile steal over the faces of men, when an earnest and enthusiastic person speaks of it as a thing yet actually to be?

And yet it is only what Christ taught us to hope for and pray for. We are not deceived; no one of us is mistaken in the vision that in innocent and blessed moments visits us all. No man who utters that sacred petition prays in vain. For the kingdom of God, the reign of peace and good-will among men, shall surely come. Not in mystical raptures, not in feverish trances, not in imagination, but in reality—in actual outward peace and beauty, and in the abiding spirit of love, filling humanity and sanctifying the earth to be the worthy temple of so divine a presence.

And yet, who that beholds only the present condition of the Christian church, to which these sacred ideas have been especially entrusted; who that sees the body of Christ thus torn and discordant, would imagine that a consummation of this imperishable hope was any longer possible? Might we not despair, seeing these centuries of terror, of revolution, of injustice and of perpetual hatred, and seeing that the very disciples of the spirit of love have lost the memory of their Master—might we not despair, and cry out with them, that the earth was given over to evil, and that the kingdom of God would never come?

No, my friends, we may not so despair, we cannot if we would. That old prophecy, however long delayed, still finds an involuntary echo in our souls. And now, in this hope of a true and brotherly society, its fulfilment seems at hand. Say it is enthusiasm, say it is a mistake, say it is irreligion, if you will, and still I reply that the time is not distant. It is in the combined order, where men are held together by inward laws only, and not by outward constraint and outward necessities, that the kingdom of God is to come down and possess the earth.

It is in Association, then, that the promise of Christianity is to be fulfilled—fulfilled by making the incarnation of the great law of love an actual and universal fact. Hitherto Christianity has been in the world a spirit pining and dying for want of a body. She has wandered up and down on the earth, possessing here and there an individual, but never obtaining her birthright, which is the whole of humanity, never able to exercise her prerogative, which is to bathe the earth in the aroma of harmony and peace. The forms of selfish and egoistical society, the forms of society here in Boston, and throughout the civilized world, are not of Christianity, but of the primeval curse, which they perpetuate. Into them Christianity cannot fully enter, any more than light can dwell in the midst of darkness.

The relations which Christianity seeks to establish between man and man, are indicated in these words, "Love one another." But how is this possible in a competitive society, where the interests of all are hostile? How can vital and true love operate between me and my neighbor, when his misfortune is my advantage, and my loss is his gain? What does it avail that on Sundays the better spirit is feebly awakened; what does it avail that then I aspire and long to love all men, if on the other six days in the week my hand is of necessity set against them all?

Do you tell me that if my love is deep and pure enough, it will modify my whole life, and of itself, without hindrance from circumstances, appear perfectly in all my actions and relations? This is the old heresy, this is the error of the individualism and egoism which has hindered us so long. Let us meet it fully and fairly.

In all results there are two elements, namely, that which acts and that which is acted upon. The character of the individual never does and never can form his circumstances, but can only modify them. No man is an artist or a poet by virtue of inward genius alone. No matter how great his gifts, unless he find a congenial atmosphere and favorable conditions, his high office is not fulfilled. Precisely so is it with that sacred energy which we call love. It can act entirely and sincerely only in circumstances that harmonize and correspond with itself. In order to carry Christianity into my daily life, the forms of my daily life, all my relations to others, my household and my business, must be in harmony with it.

If these forms are contrary to Christianity, the first thing for me, as a Christian, to do, is to change them, to put them off, to be free from them at whatever cost. If I am indeed filled and impelled by that divine injunction, "Love one another," I cannot rest, I shall give myself no peace, until it be possible for me to do so, not in my inward spirit only, but in all my outward actions also. But how is this to be done? How are the ultimate forms of my life to be brought into correspondence with its central impulse? Plainly not by any spontaneous and unconscious power, but by intellectual inquiry and voluntary action. Inspiration can discharge its whole mission only by the aid of science.

Besides, the end of Christianity is not the salvation of individuals, but the transfiguration of humanity; it cannot be accomplished in you and me, but only in the whole race. It promises the kingdom of peace and love, not to a few solitary souls, but to man. He is indeed a servant of Christianity, who has learned its universal purpose and labors therefor; who does not so much seek to be saved himself, as to bring salvation to all the world, who sees that his own private life and development are forever involved in the universal progress. He is ignorant of the true idea of Christianity, who has not understood that it demands not so much that one should be careful about his own spiritual perfection, that he should watch himself, and by private remorse and tears seek a far-off heaven, as by a generous self-forgetfulness and self-devotion, seek to build up the kingdom of peace and love among men, and make heaven a reality here, and not the hope only of a distant future and a different sphere of existence.