“Wise and prudent conduct demands before all things that we should see the facts as they are; and those are not least among England’s helpers who, regardless of consequences, in all ages have taught her children, by using their reason, to distinguish what is false from what is true.”[33]
Presuming that we have come to the conclusion that Christianity is not true, are we to say so, or are we to be silent? A believer, with ideas so advanced that his belief amounts to little more than “a reverent agnosticism” concerning the fundamental dogmas of Christianity, is still able to speak out, because while he destroys he also constructs. He has new interpretations of Christianity to offer us. The unbeliever can offer no such interpretations. He simply believes Christianity to be untrue, and, should he give his reasons, he knows he may persuade others to think so also. He must, therefore, it seems, keep his unbelief to himself, unless he is prepared to show that the destruction of belief will be beneficial. In considering this question of frank avowal of our unbelief, we must not forget that, try as we may to avoid it, we are bound from time to time to find ourselves in a position where we have to choose between telling the truth or telling a lie; while our silence, or any manœuvre with intent to deceive, is one continual evasion of the truth. Is it not time, as John Morley urges,[34] to abandon “those habits of hypocritical conformity and compliance which have filled the air of the England of to-day with gross and obscure mists”? In moral life truth is our guide, so that the arguments for its repression must be irrefutable. Now, if it can be shown that the objections to candour are more imaginary than real, not only are we robbed of the excuse for further concealment, but we are morally bound to fly our true colours openly. Nor is this all. Should it become plain to us that actual good will come of truth-telling, or that the probable good far outweighs the possible evil, it behoves us to take an active part in, or at least to lend our support to, the spread of truth.
(a) “[MAGNA EST VERITAS ET PRÆVALEBIT].”
One very natural objection of unbelievers, who are not actually disbelievers, is that there may be, after all, some truth in Christianity. We find here every shade of opinion, from that of the man who still hopes that Christianity may be proved true in all essentials, to that of the man who thinks that Christianity may be the symbol of a truth. But, I ask, Will not Christianity, if true in any shape or form, benefit by truth-telling? Will it not thereby assume its true form, whatever that may eventually prove to be, and is not that a consummation to be desired? Many believers stoutly maintain that Christianity can be only strengthened by attack; so that, on the face of this assertion, it would appear both justifiable and desirable to take them at their word, and, without more ado, proceed to attack Christianity. Certain it is that, so far, Rationalistic attacks have done inestimable good in disclosing its errors in doctrine and practice. As Mr. Morley caustically remarks, the efforts of the heterodox have taught the Church to be better Christians than they were a hundred years ago. If Christianity, purified in the cleansing fire of modern criticism, be the true faith, and the theory of progressive revelation can be accepted, are not this truer faith and this peculiarly rapid progress of revelation during late years the product of scepticism? It is the sceptics who have succeeded in forcing the Church to reconsider her doctrines and discover new truths, and, wonderful as it may appear, they have thus been God’s special instruments in this more perfect revelation of Himself. Why, then, should you hesitate to speak out? Christianity evidently has to be re-stated if it is to survive, and this re-statement must be complete, for on it rests the only chance of reclaiming the unbeliever, of arresting the further spread of infidelity, and of converting the cultured heathen—the only chance of a universal belief in God and Immortality. Of the result you have no cause for fear. If there be a God, He is a God of Truth, and the Truth will prevail.
(b) OBSCURANTISM HAS HAD ITS DAY.
The Rev. V. F. Storr, at the Liverpool Church Congress (1904), advocated telling the truth regarding established facts, and asked: “In how many pulpits are the opening chapters of Genesis frankly treated as legendary? How many teachers in schools, if called upon to give a lesson on the Fall, would make plain to the children that the framework of the story is imaginative? Are not the teachers creating for them the very difficulties which, when they come to mature years, will make shipwreck of their faith?” These remarks were received in dead silence by the audience, and the President was vociferously cheered when he asked: “Are we to tell the children that these narratives are mere fables, with a moral teaching, or, as Dr. Wace says, that they are true and historical, only clothed in an Eastern symbolism? I prefer to stand with Dr. Wace.” On the other hand, Dean Farrar advocated a diametrically opposite course. “We must,” he said,[35] “vaccinate them [the children] with criticism to save them from the small-pox of scepticism.” His successor at Canterbury has, it would appear, a “conscientious objection” to this vaccination; and well he may, for it would be far more likely to promote the disease than to bestow immunity from it.
I should mention that Dr. Wace also said, at the same Church Congress: “If I were on Mr. Blatchford’s side, and wanted to attack Christianity, I should desire nothing better than that the results of criticism concerning Genesis, as these results predominate even in the most sober critical circles, should be adopted by the Christian Church, because this would afford a means of attacking Christianity with greater force than anything else, since it would enable me to start with this vantage-ground, that all the Jews and all the apostles—I dare not speak of our Lord—were mistaken in their view of God’s relation to His own people.” Obscurantism is therefore recommended because the purpose is a pious one—namely, to confute the unbeliever and to maintain the Faith. The anti-Christian must be deprived of his vantage-ground by the denial of truth. It is the old, old story of “pious fraud,” the mainstay of the Christian Faith. We are to imitate (though in a lesser degree) the practices of the Latin and Greek Churches, and continue to play upon people’s credulity and ignorance. We are to understand that pious frauds are still considered legitimate weapons to employ in the defence of Christianity. Surely such weapons should be allowed to fall into disuse for the simple reason—if on no higher grounds—that the spread of education is rendering them obsolete.
The days of obscurantism are numbered. “Many a man in the workshop to-day knows more about the Bible and Church history than many a monk and bishop a few generations ago.”[36] The Church of England cannot “shut herself in behind walls of tottering traditions.”[37] Christian Fathers can no longer publish their own writings in the names of disciples and apostles in order to insure their acceptance. Evidence against the truth of Christianity can no longer be destroyed or suppressed by persecution. “Miracles” can no longer be worked, except where people are still grossly credulous or ignorant. True it is that passages of the Bible can still be read in church which every educated man knows to be (to use a mild term) unhistorical, and which, to console his conscience, he calls allegorical. True, in our churches, with but few exceptions, the white lie of silence is daily told. But even mild pious frauds of this nature will soon be a thing of the past. The Higher Critics and the advanced school of the Church will see to it. They are beginning to speak out—why should not you?
The obscurantist would do well to take to heart the answer of Bishop Colenso to the clergyman who reproached him with depraving one of his parishioners by criticisms of the Pentateuch. “The blame,” he replied, “would be more fittingly attached to the teachers who lead people to rest their faith in God and duty on a foundation of falsehood which every new wave of thought is sweeping away.”[38] Shall we, to give a glaring instance of pious obstruction, revert to the time—not many years ago—when the use of anæsthetics in surgery was denounced from the pulpit, on the ground of impiety? I think not. Nowadays one can hardly keep one’s countenance in recalling the words of those who seriously, and, as they thought, piously, said that they would rather suffer any pain than “enter the presence of their Maker in a state of intoxication.” We no longer listen to those who would forbid us either to taste the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge or to give it to others. Obscurantism, dogma’s best friend, is breathing its last. It can therefore no longer be depended upon.