Recollections and Impressions, 1822-1890

by Octavius Brooks Frothingham

Of Unitarianism, after what has been said, it is unnecessary to speak. That there should be a difference between the East and the West is natural. The East holds fast, in large sense, to the ancient theological traditions. The West never had them, and can therefore declare that its fellowship is conditioned on no doctrinal tests, and can welcome all who wish to establish truth and righteousness and love in the world. The West will ultimately prevail; the temper of the East is rapidly wasting away, and the breach will soon be closed up. The new Unitarian churches will be founded on a practical basis, the only requirement being that the minister should be deeply in earnest about religious things. The characteristic of all churches, of whatever name, is an urgent interest in social reform, a deep concern for the disfranchised and oppressed, and a warm feeling towards the elevation of mankind. The universal prayer is, to borrow the pithy language of Dr. F. H. Hedge: "May Thy kingdom come on earth!" not "May we come into Thy kingdom."

If it was hard to do full justice to Thomas Paine, it is harder to do full justice to the Broad Churchman. There is no authoritative account of his position to which appeal can be made, and the great variety of opinion on incidental points makes it difficult to frame any description which the leaders would accept. A great deal depends on the change of circumstances, the ruling spirit of the time, the prevailing tendencies of thought in the period,—whether scientific, critical, or social,—and a great deal depends, too, on the peculiarities of individual temperament, but the fundamental doctrines are the same. The ordinary observer can see the largeness, sympathy, inclusiveness, devotion to actual needs. But the ordinary observer cannot see the real basis of faith in human nature; the manifestation of the Divine Being in the highest possibilities of man; the trust in a living, active, communicating God.

These are cardinal points, and must be insisted on. The inherent depravity of man; his essential corruption; his absolute inability to receive any portion of the divine life, is naturally repudiated. But his feebleness, crudeness, imperfection, his dearth and deficiency, his sensuality, hardness, love of material things, is insisted on, and cannot be exaggerated. Still there is a germ of the divine nature in him, a spark of the divine flame which can be kindled. The familiar language of Longfellow expresses this idea exactly:

"Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple,
Who have faith in God and Nature,
Who believe that in all ages
Every human heart is human,
That in even savage bosoms
There are longings, yearnings, strivings
For the good they comprehend not,
That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness,
Touch God's right hand in that darkness
And are lifted up and strengthened:—
Listen to this simple story."

To this nature, thus receptive, God addresses Himself. He is the Father, the absolute Love, and his desire is to lead men upward towards the height of divine perfection. In all ages, in every way, he has been trying to do this; and all nature, all art, all literature is full of this affection for his child. Even the Pagan myths express this striving of God with man. The existence of what we call evil is assumed, but there is no attempt to explain it or theorize about it or reconcile it with any mode of philosophy. To us it may be simply the divine effort to startle the soul into a consciousness of itself. Even the worst forms of doubt, of denial, of atheism may be parts of this divine effort; even men like Strauss and Feuerbach may be witnesses for truth, because they drive men back in horror from the pit of disbelief, and compel them to take refuge through tears and prayers in the supreme love. Of absolute evil we cannot be sure that there is any; so many ways must the infinite spirit have to awaken men to a sense of their own destiny.

I cannot better convey my thought than by recounting the essence of two sermons that I heard some years ago from eminent preachers in different American cities; the first was on the death of Charles Darwin. After a very ornate service, the minister dwelt enthusiastically on the merits of Darwin as a philosopher, described his system, and declared that his own belief in the Deity of Christ, was confirmed in large measure by Darwin's theory of the Selection of the Fittest. The statement was startling at first, for the two doctrines seemed to point in opposite directions, but the speaker probably meant that the Christ expressed all the potentialities of human nature; that he was the Fittest; not a miracle, not an exception to humanity, but the perfection of man; in other words, a divine person. The other sermon turned on the murder of Sisera (Judges iv, 18), as contrasted with a statement in the first epistle of John (iv, 8), "God is love." The rector spoke of the assassination of Sisera in terms of extreme abhorrence; called it treacherous, cruel, base, and then said: "See what progress the human mind has made from this period to that when John was written." The common impression is that the human mind had nothing to do with it, it being the divine mind that was alone in question. But what the preacher meant was evidently this,—either that the divine mind dropped thoughts into the human mind as fast as they could be appreciated, or that the human mind, imperfect in development, apprehended all that it could of the perfect mind. Whichever case we assume, the integrity of the divine mind is secured, and at the same time the growth of the human.

At this point, the conception of the Broad Churchman's idea of the inspiration of the Scripture must be dwelt upon, for the doctrine is very remarkable, and throws a flood of light upon his whole conception of the aim and purpose of Christianity. According to the common notion, the Bible is literally the word of God, and men have nothing to do but to submit themselves to its authority. They must suppress all natural desires, all dictates of their moral sense, to this supreme standard of truth and rectitude. According to this notion, the whole of man, as a thoroughly corrupted being, is subject, in obedience to this law. The second theory, adopted by the American Broad Churchman, holds that the Bible contains the word of God; and this implies that there may be a part of the Bible that is not the word of God, and opens the way to an indefinite amount of criticism, speculation, and doubt. The English Broad Churchman holds, as I understand it, the common doctrine, but with this immense difference. That whereas, according to the common notion, the Bible is the word of God, he maintains that the whole object of the Bible is to educate and uplift man. The word is a minister to human needs. Through it, God is trying in various ways, by history, biography, tale, and song, to warn, persuade, teach, inspire the human soul. Sometimes he can do nothing but startle, shame, provoke; and the very things we find fault with may be designed for moral education. The Bible, itself, encourages this idea. Does not Paul preach reconciliation? Does not John speak of God as love? God hardened the heart of Pharaoh in order that he might show that He was stronger than Pharaoh. Jacob was not altogether a lovely character, but the Lord wrestled with him and lamed him, thus showing his own disapproval of the patriarch's temper. David was a seducer, adulterer, and murderer, but he repented, was ashamed, was sorrowful, and this repentance made him a man after God's own heart. It was not that God approved of his conduct, but that he wanted to make us disapprove of it. In like manner Luther based his faith on the Bible, because it convicted him of sin, and drove him to seek refuge for himself in Christ. The Church as an organization has always this one purpose in view—to minister to the soul of man. The "Articles" fairly throbbed with this conception. The outrage committed by the "Evangelicals," men who insist upon everlasting punishment and talk of doom, consists in their overlooking this divine purpose towards humanity.

The doctrines of the Church—the Deity of Christ, the Incarnation, the Resurrection, the Ascension—bear this testimony, and are inexplicable without it. But these doctrines simply convey one thought. The Christ must be God, otherwise he could not exemplify the perfect love; he must be Incarnate, otherwise he could not mingle with men. His Resurrection teaches his absolute triumph over death; his Ascension is a pledge of his union with God and his perpetual intercourse with God's children.

The two rites, Baptism and Communion, give the same idea. Baptism imports a recognition of the duty to lead a Christian life; and Communion imports a wish, on the part of all who partake of it, to enter into the privilege of a perfect harmony with Christ. None of these points are reached by criticism, or any array of texts, though passages may be cited in confirmation of them. But the proof is derived from experience, from the felt need of enlightenment and inspiration, from prayer and the yearning after eternal life. No doubt it is taken for granted that neither the Bible nor the Church expresses the whole word of God. The word is as large as the divine love, and this is infinite. The complete word of God includes all nature, all history, and all life.

It will be understood that the Broad Church notion is only a theory and rests entirely on its reasonableness. It is simply a modification of Episcopalianism, and none but an Episcopalian would be likely to adopt it. Its interest for us consists in its human character, in its earnestness for social reform, in its passionate desire to make conscience and justice and freedom of the Spirit supreme in all human affairs. It is essentially an ethical system with an ecclesiastical addition and a heavenly purpose.