A Gamble with Life

by Silas K. Hocking

The carol-singers had come to honour his grandfather. He was no longer their pastor. He had preached till he was eighty—preached till his once crowded congregation had dwindled down to a mere handful, and the glory of "Zion," as the chapel was called, had become but a memory. Yet his name was revered still. For fifty years and more he had lived in Tregannon, and had lived a life of strict and severe integrity, and, though the younger generation had drifted away from his ministry, and "Zion" was no longer enthusiastic about the terms of its title-deeds, yet there was no one who had not a good word to speak of the white-haired supernumerary.

He heard the door open at length. The old servant had gone down to let the singers in, and he knew there would be cocoa and saffron cake, and a word of welcome and exhortation from his grandfather. It was pleasant, after all, to be remembered with so much affection after a life of eighty-four years.

Rufus wondered if his name would ever be held in any degree of esteem by his fellows, or if he would live unhonoured, and die unlamented. Why was it his grandfather's name was so much revered? Was it the manner of his life or the character of his preaching that had touched the heart and imagination of Tregannon?

He had not much difficulty in answering that question. Nobody cared about his sermons now. The few that were remembered, were remembered only to be discussed and discarded. His criticisms of Luther, his fierce attacks on Arminianism, his deadly assaults on Darwin and Huxley, who were beginning to be talked about, his righteous scorn at infant baptism, his ponderous defence of verbal inspiration, his laboured expositions of the prophecies of Daniel, his flounderings in the deep waters of the Apocalypse, his weighty disquisitions on foreknowledge and predestination, and his nicely-balanced definitions of such terms as atonement, justification, regeneration and the like—what did they all amount to now? Who recalled them or were made the better by them? The thing that mattered was goodness. In so far as he had set an example of uprightness of character, of simplicity of aim, of unselfishness in his dealings with his fellows, he had lived to purpose. The sermon that all Tregannon remembered was his upright life. Austere he had always been, carrying himself with a certain reserve that no one could break down, but beneath a cold and placid surface there had beaten a genuinely human heart. To the poor and suffering and heartbroken he had proved himself through two generations a genuine friend. Hence it was that though he had lived in retirement for the last four years his name was held in reverence still.

Rufus found himself debating the question from a fresh standpoint. Was Christianity what his grandfather preached, or what he lived? He had heard him declare from the pulpit, with passionate vehemence, that good works were filthy rags, and that morality might be a millstone around the neck to sink the soul in deeper perdition. Yet who cared for his grandfather's theology in Tregannon? The thing that made his name revered was that very morality which he had so often warned his hearers against.

"There's a screw loose somewhere," Rufus said to himself, with a smile. "Perhaps I had better read the New Testament again and try to find out what Christianity is. What passes in its name I like as little as ever I did. Its priestly assumptions, its grotesque dogmas, its truculent grovelling at the feet of wealth, its pitiful squabblings about forms and orders, its defence of oppression and war, and most other abominations, its silence and helplessness in face of public corruption. Great Scott! what does it all mean? Think of Christianity in Russia siding with the brutes who rule that unhappy land; think of it in France, where the people in disgust are trying to kick it out; think of it in England, allied to the State, intriguing for power and resorting to every kind of sharp practice to gain its own ends, and think of Jesus dying for a great ideal. I'll give up the problem, it's beyond me." And he got out of bed and began to dress. After breakfast he rather astonished the old people by announcing that he would go to chapel.

"I hope you will go, Rufus, in a proper spirit," the old man said, severely.

"I hope so," was the answer; "though I am bound to confess I am prompted mainly by a desire to hear your new minister."