In what respect, then, do Christian Scientists, who do not believe in the body, treat theirs differently from the way we treat ours? We have to eat to keep ourselves alive; so do they. We have to take liquids with our food; so do they. We bathe our bodies because to do so is refreshing and cleanly. Why do they bathe theirs? We need fresh air; Mrs. Eddy rode out every day for the same purpose. And does not the Eddyite, like every one else, repair his house or weed his garden? Does he not Paris Green his vegetables? Does he not screen his windows? Does he not scrub his floors? Why may he not, with equal reason, resort to certain means to protect his teeth, his eyes, or his digestive organs? If Mind is All, Mrs. Eddy's disciples should dispense with the use of powders and cosmetics, and their houses and gardens should be free from wear and tear, as their persons are supposed to be. Are not tree and plant, house and land, face and teeth, included in the All which is Mind? And do Christian Scientists use "Divine" healing also for the horse and the dog? Do they employ dressmakers to clothe their minds or their bodies? If Mind is All, why do not our trains run without engineers, or our ships sail without pilots? Are physicians the only people the Deity will not tolerate? If engineers and pilots represent Mind, why not doctors?
It is admitted by leaders in Christian Science that many among their followers insure, not only their buildings against fire, but also their lives against accident, sickness, and death. Of course, death can be caused only by sickness, accident, or old age. It follows that the Christian Scientist takes thought of accident, sickness, and old age, and guards against them precisely as non-Christian Scientists do. I know also of Christian Scientists who are in the life insurance business—that is to say, while they deny sickness and accident they argue with their clients that it is the part of wisdom, as well as a duty they owe their families, to buy insurance. Is that the way to practise what one professes?
Let us continue. Mrs. Eddy declares there is no matter, and then she proceeds to write a book. Why could not Mrs. Eddy communicate her revelation to her pupils without the help of a book? Would not that have been a real miracle? Why should Absolute Mind be dependent upon ink and type? Is not a book—its paper, its cloth, its ink, its glue and boards—as material as any drug which the chemist manufactures? If Mrs. Eddy is not able to reach the minds of her disciples without appealing to their senses of touch and sight, why condemn the doctors for using equally material means to influence their patients?
But Mrs. Eddy goes beyond the physician in her materialism. A doctor, for example, invents an instrument to render surgical operations less painful, but he does not patent his idea to protect his profits. Mrs. Eddy discovers "Divine healing" and copyrights it. Moreover, the physician is the inventor of his own instrument. Mrs. Eddy declares that her book is from God, and then proceeds to copyright what does not belong to her.
The hosts of people who proclaim Mrs. Eddy's name and bend the knee to her do not seem to reflect that to copyright God's thoughts is an attempt to copyright the Deity. A New England woman plans to secure a corner on the Divine mind for commercial purposes, else why does she charge such high prices for her book? And yet not one of her admiring followers breathes even a murmur against it. It has been said that the lady copyrighted her books and asked a big price for them, netting her nearly five hundred per cent, profit, not because she wanted the money, but to make the buyers appreciate the book. But what becomes of "Divine" science if it must count on money to make people appreciate its merits? If the Eddyites may use money to influence minds, why may not a doctor use drugs to get results?
Really the metaphysical fraternity, instead of being sufficiently advanced in "Divine" science to dispense with medical help, are often compelled to employ the services of more than one doctor. The devout follower of Mrs. Eddy, if he has a tooth to be extracted or a decayed root to be removed, or an abscess in the ear to be treated, engages, besides the services of an expert physician, also some metaphysical practitioner. Thus, while the non-Christian Scientist employs only one kind of doctor, the believer in "Divine" mind employs two. When a Christian Scientist goes to a hospital for an operation, he either takes a practitioner of his own faith with him and instals him in a room near-by to give him "Divine" treatment while the surgeon is operating on him, or he goes to the phone just before going under the knife to ask his favourite practitioner for absent treatment. Two doctors instead of one—that is how Christian Science has done away with doctors. Of course, it is true that only in serious cases do Christian Scientists call upon outside help; but, then, in cases not serious anybody can get along without expert assistance.
In Science and Health (p. 463) Mrs. Eddy gives the following explanation of her seclusion from the world: "It has been said to the author: 'The world has been benefited by you, but it feels your influence without seeing you. Why do you not make yourself more widely known?' Could her friends know how little time the author has had in which to make herself outwardly known except through her laborious publications—and how much time and thought are still required to establish the stately operations of Christian Science—they would understand why she is so secluded." Is not this an admission of her limitations? And can a woman, claiming to be one with God, "unborn and undying," afford to confess that she has neither the time nor the ability to do all that is required of her?
On p. 464 of her book Mrs. Eddy advises her followers to let a surgeon give them a hypodermic injection to relieve their pain, and a few sentences after she writes: "Adulterating Christian Science makes it void. Falsity has no foundation," She advises her followers, when "Divine" science fails, to take a hypodermic for help, and then she tells them that "adulterating Christian Science makes it void," which leaves her disciples between "the devil and the deep sea."
And what if there were no hypodermics to relieve the pain which Mrs. Eddy's doctrine had failed to cope with? What if there were no surgeons to administer the drug? Under Christian Science all these material means are to be abolished, leaving the whole field to Mrs. Eddy. To whom, then, will "a Christian Scientist, seized with pain so violent that he cannot treat himself mentally," go for relief?
Mrs. Eddy knows very well that physicians and not surgeons give hypodermic injections; but she has not the courage, nor, I regret to say, the honesty, to say anything good of a physician. Is not such a mind as Mrs. Eddy's a menace?