"Our religion does not trouble us that way," I hear the Christians say in reply. Of course not, they no longer believe in it. They let art, music, science, the drama, business, to divert their attention from this Asiatic fetish. Rationalism has dissipated the terrors of the future, and tinted the horizon with beauty and light. But let them believe in Christianity as their fathers believed in it, let them be sincere with it, and it will make life miserable for them as it has for thousands of others. Yes, believe in Christianity as the Apostle Paul did, for example, and you must agree with him, that, "If in this life only we have a hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable." And listen to the cry of despair from the lips of the Son of God: "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" The nails in his hands and feet tore his flesh, but it was the thought that he had been forsaken by God that broke his heart. Surely, if a belief in a future life could make anybody happy, it should have made the death of Jesus a symphony, instead of a tragedy.
In conclusion: Not God, nor the unseen world, but Truth is the sovereign good. There is nothing more excellent. If there be philosophies, they shall pass away; if there be theologies, they shall pass away; if there be creeds, cults, gods, they shall pass away. But Truth is from everlasting to everlasting.
In my mind's eye, I see a wonderful building, something like the Coliseum of ancient Rome. The galleries are black with people; tier upon tier rise like waves the multitude of spectators who have come to see a great contest. A great contest, indeed! A contest in which all the world and all the centuries are interested. It is the contest—the fight to death—between Truth and Error.
The door opens, and a slight, small, shy and insignificant looking thing steps into the arena. It is Truth. The vast audience bursts into hilarious and derisive laughter. Is this Truth? This shuddering thing in tattered clothes, and almost naked? And the house shakes again with mocking and hisses.
The door opens again, and Error enters,—clad in cloth of gold, imposing in appearance, tall of stature, glittering with gems, sleek and huge and ponderous, causing the building to tremble with the thud of its steps. The audience is for a moment dazzled into silence, then it breaks into applause, long and deafening. "Welcome!" "Welcome!" is the greeting from the multitude. "Welcome!" shout ten thousand throats.
The two contestants face each other. Error, in full armor,—backed by the sympathies of the audience, greeted by the clamorous cheering of the spectators; and Truth, scorned, scoffed at, and hated. "The issue is a foregone conclusion," murmurs the vast audience. "Error will trample Truth under its big feet."
The battle begins. The two clinch, separate, and clinch again. Truth holds its own. The spectators are alarmed. Anxiety appears in their faces. Their voices grow faint. Is it possible? Look! See! There! Error recedes! It fears the gaze of Truth! It shuns its beauteous eyes! Hear it squeak and scream as it feels Truth's squeeze upon its wrists. Error is trying to break away from Truth's grip. It is making for the door. It is gone!
The spectators are mute. Every tongue is smitten with the palsy. The people bite their lips until they bleed. They cannot explain what they have seen. "Who would have believed it?" "Is it possible?"—they exclaim. But they can not doubt what their eyes have seen. That puny and insignificant looking thing called Truth has put ancient and entrenched Error, backed by the throne, the altar, the army, the press, the people, and the gods—to rout.
The pursuit of truth! Is not that worth living for? To seek the truth, to love the truth, to live the truth? Can any religion offer more?
What is the remedy for the pessimism that asks, "Is life worth living?" A sound mind in a sound body. There is no better preventive of that depression of spirits whence proceed the diseases which menace life, and mar the happiness of man, than health—moral, intellectual, physical—health; individual and social health. The highest ideal of Christianity is a man of sorrows. The highest ideal of Rationalism is a man of joy!