A Wayfarer's Faith: Aspects of the common basis of religious life

by T. Edmund Harvey

There remains a further practical question to be faced. If we recognise that the good finds expression in various ways, that men in act and thought alike may differ from each other, and yet the inner source of their spiritual life may be the same, are we to abandon the endeavour to find some intellectual synthesis of their divergent ideals? Must we cease to attempt to express [p.18] in terms of thought that which we recognize as transcending all human thought and much more our imperfect terms? Surely this would be a mistake. Though not only for our own lives but for the whole life of humanity upon the earth it should prove that our processes of creed building and church making are necessarily imperfect, we must still for ever strive to express in thought and in act the life of the spirit, which grows and deepens as it is faithfully expressed. Creed and deed alike, we feel, are but the raiment of the life; they fade and are outgrown, yet they are not to be fiercely torn to pieces or lightly thrown aside. Even though we may never hope to be able to explain to ourselves or to others the common basis of our ethical ideals and of our religious life, we must never cease to try to find some explanation and to give what expression to it we can.

The vision of truth that we have now, our intellectual expression of our relationship to the world, and of our duty in it, is we recognise, imperfect; it is no key to the universe, to unlock every mystery for us, still less for others; but it may prove a sufficient lamp, and one whose rays grow ever brighter, to light our footsteps onward or (to change the metaphor) it may be a clue to the great labyrinth about us which may be of use to others besides ourselves, though some may come to the goal by a very different way. Certainly the experience of all the great mystics would [p.19] seem to show that as we ascend the Heavenly mountain, one from one side, one from another, our paths draw nearer to each other, and so across the night between, we may listen to our fellow pilgrims' voices, and realize that some day we shall meet face to face.

CHAPTER II. THE INNER LIFE OF THE CHURCH

IT is difficult for us, and some may even feel that it is impossible, to make an impartial survey of an institution of which we ourselves form a part; on the other hand, it is equally difficult, unless one can realize something of its life from the inside, to appreciate the real nature of that life. And thus it must ever be peculiarly hard for us to understand the true relationship of the Christian churches to the world in which they work and to the ideal which guides them. And yet as we seek to see the difficulties others feel, and to enter into sympathy alike with the critic without and the workers within, we may come near at least to understanding some portion of the truth. It may remain true that "all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in a pool," but as we endeavour to clear our minds and hearts of prejudice and to use others' eyes as well as our own, the pool grows clearer and the reflection becomes less broken, and more nearly an image of the reality it represents.

To see the failure of the Church does not mean that we ignore its victories: but if we are to carry [p.21] those victories further, it must be by noting our shortcomings, and all that we have not achieved. Looking out upon the life of men to-day, we cannot forget how, bad as it is, society has been again and again in large measure redeemed and kept alive through lives that have been the light and strength of the Church as well as of the world, but this need not prevent us from seeing how far the Church as a whole has failed to act in the same way.

Organised Christianity to-day in England, as represented in the churches, is very largely a middle class institution. Not only the very rich, but the great mass of the poorer workers, stand aloof from it. It has not given its strength to prophesy against the evils that attack our social life; and to remedy above all that utter separation of the lives of rich and poor, employer and employed, which is the terrible characteristic of twentieth-century urban civilisation.

There is much religious "activity," of a limited kind, using old and recognised channels of expression, and an earnestness in defence of particular religious views or in attacking particular errors of doctrine or forms of worship. But if we can for a moment forget our own individual standpoint and endeavour to look from the point of view of an outsider upon such religious enthusiasm as shows itself upon different sides in , let us say the present education controversy. we shall surely feel that if this represents the life of the churches, they [p.22] are far indeed removed from the spirit of their Founder.

"I love to see these Christians fight," was the remark of one able critic as he left a room where a public body had been engaged in discussing some phase of the "religious difficulty" in education. It is true that such a charge is no new one; as far back as the middle of the second century the philosopher Celsus brought a like one against the Christians of his day. [1] But since those early days too, there has been continual protest within the Church against this very spirit, and it has been in that series of protests that some, perhaps, may trace the true apostolic succession of teachers and guides. Age after age these leaders have found new help and inspiration as they turned toward the source from which the strength of the Church first sprang, and it is noteworthy that now, as often in the past many of the men who are estranged from the Church have nothing but respect — nay, often reverence — in their thought of Christ and of these followers of His. They would have very different thoughts of Christianity if all who profess and call themselves Christians had realised that ideal of the meaning of the name by which they are [p.23 ] called which William Penn once expressed in the words, "To be like Christ, then is to be a Christian."

If only we had all more clearly before us that vision, we could not but be filled not merely with burning shame at our own failure, but with longing to be more helpful to our fellows, and to draw nearer to them, as we would grow nearer to our spirit. And this desire within us will surely be strengthened as we turn towards that wonderful reflection of His teaching gathered together for us in the closing chapters of the Gospel of John. In that unique picture of the mind and heart of the Master there are traits over which we some- times pause and wonder; sayings which, when we can free our eyes from the scales with which custom has covered them, seem to shine with a light brighter than we can bear. And in that chapter, in which we listen as silent witnesses to the great charter of futurity, the prayer of the Founder for His Church that is to be, there are words which are so full of lofty purpose that we hesitate to apply them to our lives; unconsciously, perhaps, we have been wont to read them over and treat them as metaphor, meant to inspire but not to be realized; and gradually we have lost hold of their true significance, the inner life of thought beyond them. How truly can we say that we have realized, as individuals or as a Church, this picture which that prayer gives us of the Master's aim and desire for us? [p.24]

"And I am no more in the world, and these are in the world, and I come to Thee. Holy Father, keep them in Thy name which Thou hast given me, that they may be one, even as we are. . . . Neither for these only do I pray, but for them also that believe on Me through their word; that they may all be one; even as thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that Thou didst send Me."