"The rose," she writes, "is the smile of God," and to accuse it of producing fevers or colds is to make God the author of disease. This is strange reasoning. If the rose represents "the smile of God," what do the bugs and crawling insects on its petals represent? And whose smile are its thorns which prick x and draw blood? Further, if a rose, a material flower, can represent the "Divine" smile, why may not other equally material things have a mission in life—such as representing and imparting health? If the Deity can use the rose to reveal his smile, why may he not use herbs or minerals for curative purposes? Why may not soap and water, cleanliness, fresh air, temperance in food and drink and exercise, have as useful a purpose in the "Divine" economy of things as the rose?
On p. 488 of Science and Health Mrs. Eddy writes:—Christian Science sustains with immortal proof the impossibility of any material sense, and defines these so-called senses as mortal beliefs, the testimony of which cannot be true. Nerves have no more sensation, apart from what belief bestows upon them, than the fibres of a plant.
In the above, as also in innumerable other passages, the founder of Christian Science advises her readers to deny the testimony of their senses. They are urged to deny "that matter can ache, swell, and be inflamed." Never mind the witness of our senses; "bones cannot break, nerves cannot feel, the nose cannot smell, and the eyes cannot see." But did she stop to think where such advice would carry us?
I smell something burning in the kitchen or in the basement; but no, the senses lie. There is nothing burning; there is nothing to burn. I feel and see smoke filling the room. I can hardly breathe; but no, the senses are "a fraud." There is no smoke in the room, and I am not choking; for has not Mrs. Eddy demonstrated with "immortal proof" that "corporeal senses defraud and lie," and that they are "the only source of evil or error" (pp. 488 and 489)? If the infant is crying in the nursery because it has fallen from its cradle, or because it has stumbled into the fire, there is no need to rush for help, because the report of our senses that the child is in danger is a lie. "Christian Science shows them [our senses] to be false" (p. 489). Fortunate it is that not many parents are consistent Christian Scientists.
It is said that Christian Science does not deal with man as he appears, but man as he is—"unborn and undying." Very well; is what Mrs. Eddy and her followers write or say about "man unborn and undying" debatable or un-debatable? If debatable, we have a right to ask the Eddyites to conform to the canons of human reason; but if Christian Science is non-debatable—that is, if it cannot be understood by such minds as we possess, then why write or talk about it at all?
Do Christian Scientists Practise what they Preach?
Mrs. Eddy teaches that the material universe is an illusion. Do the Christian Scientists try to live up to this? I say, do they try, because to try is about all that any one can do, as it is an utter impossibility to really live up to such a belief.
Let us see if there is any difference between the way we treat our bodies and the way Mrs. Eddy's followers treat theirs. We believe the body exists, and therefore we protect it with clothing. The Christian Scientists do the same, although they should not believe such material things as flesh and bone exist. We sleep to be refreshed; so do they. We have a roof over our heads; so have they. We close our windows in the winter and build a fire; they do the same. We are growing older; so are they. Now and then we feel unwell, and apply to a helper of some kind for treatment, when we cannot cope with the trouble ourselves; the Christian Scientists do the same. We die from some cause or other; so do they. If Christian Scientists never need any treatment, why are there so many practitioners among them? How do they make a living if no one of their circle is ever taken sick? I admit that we do not take the same treatment, or go to the same helper, or call our troubles by the same name; but, dear me! why make such an ado over mere names?