The Next Step in Religion: An Essay toward the Coming Renaissance

by Roy Wood Sellars

I have not tried to state and criticize the numerous theodicies which man's restless intellect has constructed. Mystics have taught that evil is an illusion. But illusions have a way of being very real; and a derogatory term does not alter facts. Idealists have declared that what we call evil only increases the divine harmony, as a judicious discord heightens the effect of symphonic combinations. But this æsthetic argument conflicts with moral relations. Surely God would not be so self-centered. Thus there are weighty objections to all the ingenious and profound apologies for the course of events. But why are such apologies felt to be necessary? Simply and solely because events are assumed to be under the control of an intelligent, moral agent. Withdraw this assumption, and the problem vanishes.

When we turn from the religious view of the world to the scientific and philosophical, we are immediately impressed by the different perspective. What were theoretical problems of the most absolute and inescapable kind cease to exist. While the religious view of the world culminates in an attempted justification of the ways of God to man, the scientific studies the system of things as a given whole to which all questions of justification are irrelevant. The world is as it is, and the category of responsibility is inapplicable. Evil becomes a practical and relative problem. There is no thought of trying to fix responsibility upon some personal agent who could have done otherwise and did not. Man is a part of nature, although a self-directive organism adapted more or less adequately to his environment. And just because he is an organism, he must maintain himself in the face of attacks and fluctuating changes. He is not able to claim exemption from the consequences of cataclysms, such as earthquakes and tornadoes, which result from the unstable balance of physical energies. He perishes in the same way that beasts and plants do, when his intelligence is not able to find a way of escape from a sudden danger. In other words, physical evil is evil only because it hurts man, who does not want to be hurt. From the objective standpoint, evil and good differ not a jot from one another. They are both causal events baptised by man in accordance with his sympathies and antipathies. Events are good to him or bad to him; in themselves, they are neither good nor bad. Rain does not fall in summer in order to nourish the plants; instead, the plants are nourished and continue to exist because the rain falls. Once, it was hard for man to admit this impersonalism. He wanted to find an objective purpose focusing upon his career. But he is at last beginning to realize that his will to live and create is the source of all values. Nature is a thing to be used for his own desired ends.

There are no problems harder than false problems. The great achievement is to see that they are false because they flow from a false assumption. Remove this assumption, and the problem which tortured the greatest thinkers vanishes into thin air. The problem of evil becomes the problem of lessening evil by conquering nature and rendering her subservient to man. It is a problem of engineering, of applied chemistry, of preventive medicine, of social planning. Man must become the master of his destiny through the instrumentality of his intelligence. But what a different setting this presents from the one in which primitive man existed! Then man was needy and fearful and ignorant and helpless. Now he is wealthy, ingenious, sure of himself. It is coming to be that man is less hurt by physical agencies than by himself. He has freed himself from his environment; he must now free himself from his own passions and hatreds. He must love righteousness and peace, and flee from dissension and all forms of injustice. The problem of evil has become a social problem. It is the task of amelioration by intelligent control.

But science, alone, will never be sufficient to meet the fact of evil. The most optimistic believer in the possibilities of intelligent planning and control does not deny that tragedies of all sorts will still be only too common. Let us hope that there will be less of tuberculosis, less of grinding poverty, less of avoidable accidents. But will there be less of secret disappointment with life, less of wounded affection? More will live happy and noble lives in the healthier society which is within our power than was possible in the past; but there will be mal-adjustments of various kinds. Individuals will seek to control the lives of others, and this control will be resented; friends will fall out over fancied or real wrongs; lovers will quarrel; misunderstandings will arise. None of Shakespeare's great tragedies turn about sickness and natural calamities. The motives are social and personal in character, the quarrels of rival houses, the senile pride of an old man, the ambition of princes, the adulterous love which leads to murder. Men will need strength of spirit and broad sympathy to meet the situations which confront them. And many will fail hopelessly in the struggle, in the future as they have in the past. But, on the other hand, the rank and file will lead vigorous, active lives with a fair measure of those rewards of success and companionship which sweeten endeavor. What more is there to say? Life is a hazard, and men must take their risk bravely. Courage on the part of the actor will do much; sympathy on the part of those near him will also do much; but risk there will be always.

CHAPTER XIII

RELIGION AND ETHICS

What was the exact relation between religion and morality in the past? Does morality any longer need the sanctions and supernatural setting which helped to support it in other days? These are questions of primary importance whose discussion should throw light upon both religion and human morality. Have human values become self-supporting and self-justifying? Do the decencies of life find sufficient ground in human nature for their continuance and increase? Or is the rescuing hand of a supernatural grace necessary to prevent deterioration? Such questions are peculiarly proper to-day when ethics is seeking to build itself upon a broad study of human instincts. Let us try to penetrate below the surface of the traditional contrasts between flesh and spirit—contrasts which hindered rather than furthered clear analysis—and note the actual basis of the spiritual life in man. In order to do so, we must read human nature as it manifests itself in organized society, sanely and calmly, expecting neither too much nor too little, and not being intimidated by the assertions of men who have built their lives around the traditional theological outlook. Those who have learned to lean upon a crutch or who have cast their spiritual experiences in a certain mold naturally feel at a loss when this is threatened. This is to put it too mildly, perhaps, for the odium theologicum has a reputation which cannot be all unearned. Yet, comprehensible as the protest of the conservative is, it must be viewed in the light of the psychological habits which it expresses. It may well be that new times and new points of view will bring new habits and new molds for spiritual experience. It may well be that the traditional religious sanctions will gradually lose their meaning in the new generation, born into a more social, humane and scientific atmosphere. Let us see what indications there are for this prediction.

In early times, religion was mainly a community affair. The tribe or state had its gods who protected it against its enemies in return for homage and sacrifice. The tribal god was inseparable from his worshipers. A god without a nation was almost as badly off as a nation without a divine protector. As members of the community, the individuals, separately and collectively, were required to perform established ceremonies which were pleasing in the eyes of the gods, and to refrain from acting in ways displeasing to them. Gods and men formed, as it were, one society; and so customs and rituals always received the fearful sanctions of these divine powers. How naturally this outlook developed can readily be understood. And there can be little doubt that the double sanction of social group and divine witnesses was of advantage in those early days when man was more impulsive and less rational than he is to-day. A crime was, at one and the same time, a crime and a sin or act of impiety; and so close was thought to be the responsible connection of the individual and the group that the tribe was held to be in danger because of the deeds of its members. The gods were living agents quick to anger and ready to punish in the direst ways. Warned by this knowledge of the jealousy of the gods, the fellow tribesmen hastened to punish the offender in order to ward off the divine anger. Thus the sanctions enforcing the customs were both social and religious.