Mr. Moore, in chapter xiv. of his book, quotes a summary of the situation by the Japan Times, which all who are interested in the question whether Japan is likely to adopt Christianity would do well to read. As bearing on the particular point we are now discussing, the following may be noted: “We cannot believe that it [Christianity] will ever succeed in getting a firm hold upon the minds of the educated classes. Men of these classes have for centuries lived and died under a system of morality which inculcates virtue for virtue’s sake, and entirely dispenses with supernatural sanctions of any sort.... We cannot agree with those who, like Mr. Toyama and Mr. Fukuzawa, recommend it to their countrymen, while they themselves refuse to believe in it, except as a collection of useful superstitions.”[71] How many Toyamas and Fukuzawas are there not in modern Christendom?
CLASSICAL HISTORY.
It matters not where you direct your searchlight, you cannot fail to discover instance upon instance confuting the pious assertion of a universal religious instinct. Take the case of the great Roman poet and philosopher, Lucretius, whose unique poem, De Rerum Natura, has acquired a new interest in the present day. He set before himself the task of finally crushing that fear of the gods, and that fear of death resulting from it, which he regarded as the source of all human ills. He denied the two bases of all religion (as we understand it)—the doctrines of a supernatural Governor of the world, and of a future life.
I will not continue to multiply examples. It is surely clear that the religious instinct is not universal.
NOTE ON HUMAN SENTIMENT AS TO A FUTURE LIFE.
What is the Rationalistic explanation of that essence of the “religious instinct,” belief in an after life? It may, I think, be summed up briefly in some such words as these: “The conception of non-existence is an effort beyond the power of human intellect. As long as man thinks, his ego is fully conscious of its existence, and not able to grasp the idea of non-existence. Thus religion is a functional weakness.”[72] The instinct of self-preservation does the rest; it transforms the speculation into an ardent desire. “The theory of a continued existence after death is nothing more than a certain manifestation of the impulse for self-preservation, as the instinct for self-preservation itself is nothing more than the form under which our vital energies, that have their seat in every cell of our organism, manifest themselves to our consciousness.”[73] Is not this a perfectly natural explanation of the craving for immortality?
This craving, as we have seen, is not universal; while, in Buddhism, it is assumed that man ought to strive for extinction. Even among Western nations the craving is not so common as it is generally supposed to be, and as the Church confidently takes for granted. In support of this conclusion, I should mention that my readers will find a startling confirmation in an article on “Human Sentiment with regard to a Future Life,” which appears in the Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research for October, 1904. The article is written by a well-known psychologist, Mr. F. C. S. Schiller, Fellow and tutor of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, and author of various well-known works on the mind (Riddles of the Sphinx, 1891; Humanism, 1903, etc.). He reviews the results of a laborious inquiry by the American branch of the S. P. R., and comes to the conclusion that “the returns show a hitherto hardly suspected weakness of the desire for knowledge of a future life,”[74] and that, “amid all the various phenomena of human psychology, distress due to uncertainty about one’s fate after death seems to be one of the rarest.”[75] Mr. Schiller, the apostle of Professor W. James in this country, shows that he himself possesses the craving for an after life in no ordinary degree, and this adds all the more force to his statement that the instinct is in nowise universal. I, too, once had a craving so intense that hell itself seemed less awful than total annihilation. To those who have built up high hopes their destruction must come as a terrible shock—a shock eventually relieved by a feeling of resignation to the inevitable.
What we, as anxious parents, have to ask ourselves is: Do we not agree with St. Paul when he says, “If Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain”; and are we not aware that, with the advance of knowledge, the present widespread disbelief in the resurrection of Jesus Christ will become more and more general? Even now how many disbelieve or preserve an agnosticism regarding the chief dogmas of the Christian creed? How many are sceptical concerning the continuance of consciousness after death? Does either science or common sense support a belief in the survival of personality? Are we right, then, in permitting our children’s minds to be imbued with a “sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life”? Is it a kind act to expose our children to the pain of a rude awakening by instilling hopes that are destined to be ultimately shattered? Is it a wise act to allow their morality to be based upon foundations that are doomed to destruction? It is not as if we were forced into telling fairy stories because we shrink from negative teaching. It is not as if there were no natural incentives to right conduct, no positive teaching possible, without an admixture of theological speculations. Non-theological moral instruction is not only possible, but is urgently wanted and will be extremely beneficial. This will appear more fully in the following chapter.
[1] As remarked by the Bishop of London in a sermon at Westminster Abbey. See cover of Mr. Guy Thorne’s book, When it was Dark.