The East

by William Young Martin

But its effects in a political, religious, and social point of view are, I think, of vastly greater importance. In all these respects it might indeed be productive of much good by the interchange of ideas, and friendly discussion of opinions. But I think that, as conducted, pilgrimages instead of good are productive of great evils. They are carefully and strictly confined to religious and sectarian objects, and the encouragement of superstition by the traffic in relics and the like. Instead of being personal and free, they are communities disciplined and led by priests, and cunningly guarded from any influences calculated to open their eyes or minds by the perception or reception of any truth beyond the narrow views in which they have been carefully instructed. Consequently bigotry and intolerance are fostered, and each avoids contact with the other, as if all were plague-stricken.

This condition of matters could not be continued very long were printing-presses and newspapers introduced to publish their proceedings; but the most profound ignorance of all truths and principles other than those of their own creed and ceremonial is strictly maintained. I think the only instance in which I observed a Bible in the hands of an Eastern during our journey was one day while sailing along the coast of Phœnicia, when a Greek priest came with a Greek Testament open in his hand and sat down on the large chair on deck beside me. He read and pointed out the opening verses of St. John’s Epistles. I could only reply by pointing out the corresponding passage in my English version which lay beside him. He shook his head and I mine, to express regret at our mutual linguistic ignorance. After sitting together and trying to evince our mutual respect we parted with the usual ceremony. He was a fine looking young man in the usual well known priest’s dress, with the tall cylindrical black hat. As a rule the making of proselytes is an object kept altogether subservient to that of avoiding and preventing discussions, so keeping their followers ignorant of the real tenets of their rivals. Politically, the practice is very much the same at least as regards the Turks, who I am satisfied could not exist as a government but for the support they receive from their religion, and these pilgrimages are evidently used to cement in one body the numerous nationalities which hold the faith of the great Prophet, and to foster a spirit of resistance to the so-called “Infidelity,” their great opponent. The champion of the faith is personified to them in the Turkish Government and that of the enemy in Christianity. Probably also such pilgrimages afford opportunities for inculcating the political or priestly ideas of the time among the various peoples, or it may create centres of disaffection for party leaders—perhaps be made a focus for concocting plots or even massacres.

The Christian pilgrims of all sects in the East are similarly guarded, not so much from Jewish and Mahomedan opinions as from those of each other, and it is a curious fact that Roman Catholic influence is much more friendly towards Moslem or Jew than to the Greek or Armenian Christian.

Hermit monks, crusaders, and pilgrimages have found their most eloquent eulogist in Châteaubriand. I am just reading his travels in the East (1806), and it is difficult to understand how a man of the world so highly educated and accomplished, could see so much that was excellent in all three, and he so blind to their evils. In his eyes the monks who merely “watched over” the birthplace and grave of the Saviour were Christian heroes and martyrs! But wherein lies the merit of affecting to idly watch a manger and a sepulchre both empty, and neither of them real, it does not appear to him necessary to point out, nor to show that such watching was inculcated either by reason or revelation. In point of fact both have been in the “keeping” of the Moslems for centuries. The angel said to Mary, “Come, see the place where the Lord lay,” but this evidently was just to convince her of the fact and make her a witness of His resurrection. Had it been an injunction for all believers to “see the place,” undoubtedly the place would have been clearly obvious to all sincere worshippers, whereas Providence has carefully obliterated every evidence of its site.

Châteaubriand relates his own experience in a singularly ingenuous spirit, showing a loving confidence in his religion and all its ways, which is in these days of doubt, and questioning, and cavilling, very beautiful to mark. By his own showing, it seems evident he was very carefully guided throughout his travels—waited on by monks at every point, wisely advised and carefully passed on from one monastery to another, or one “Religious” to another, all which attentions he lovingly accepted as only new proofs of their tender kindness and affection for himself. The story shows how at an early period the Latin Church had established a complete chain of outworks in the East.

And he certainly a thousandfold repaid their little attentions by his eloquent pen—the very reward, no doubt, which they expected and desired. It is almost impossible to help liking the man, and difficult to judge very rigidly his opinions. His unquestioning faith, and apparent truthfulness, and life-long advocacy, have done more to cover the “multitude of sins” of his Church than any other of her defenders I have read. His devotion, which in other men would be called superstition, is presented in a spirit so beautifully sentimental that I can now understand how, trained as young people, from marquises down to commoners, nowadays are, so many have recently been “converted” to his Church.

As to the Crusades of the Middle Ages, it cannot be denied that many men entered upon them in a noble spirit, and at first they were carried out largely with most self-denying courage and devotion; but they did no good, because they were founded upon no solid basis or principle further than a sentimental feeling which ended without results.

Pilgrimages as at the present time carried out in the East chiefly consist of Mahomedans from Constantinople and Asia Minor, who travel by the steamers to the Arabian ports on the Red Sea, or join the great caravans of pilgrims overland from Damascus and by other overland routes, all centring in Mecca. The amount of personal discomfort and fatigue which they endure is fatal to a large number of them, especially the aged, of whom they seemed to me largely to consist. Indeed, I believe among the chief promoters of plague, both physical and moral, are these annual pilgrimages, and yet they continue as much as ever to be one of the main obstructions to the spread of civilization and liberty in the Eastern hemisphere. The pilgrimages of the Jews and of the several Christian sects centre in Jerusalem, and of the Roman Catholics a large portion in Rome, all chiefly at the Easter season, and the same remarks to a great extent apply to them. All are efficient supports of superstition and enemies of controversy; indeed, crusades and pilgrimages have always been prominent examples and promoters of the sensuous and ceremonial in religion as opposed to the inward and intellectual.

Superstition could not long survive discussion and controversy if openly and fairly conducted in a spirit of charity, and hence all systems not founded in truth are instinctively jealous of it. Mahomedanism, although perhaps less vulnerable because less inconsistent with itself in the abstract than the religion of many of the Christian sects, is less able to bear the light of day without external support. A richly sensuous or ceremonial religion has great attraction for the vulgar, and if only artistically performed, equally great charms for the fashionable and refined, simply because the education of the eye and the ear is much more easy and pleasant than that of the understanding—hence the strength and influence of such religions. For if once the sensuous is admitted as an element in any degree whatever as rendering our worship more acceptable to God, it obviously follows that worship ought to be made as highly sensuous or ceremonial as is possible. In this view the Church of Rome undoubtedly bears the palm of merit over all others, Moslem and Christian, and defies with amazing success the criticisms of its opponents, however well founded in truth. No doubt the religion of Judaism was sensuous and ceremonial, but this was minutely defined and strictly limited from every human addition. The Divine Teacher emphatically tells us that the Father is no more to be worshipped in holy places as such, nor with sensuous service, but in spirit and in truth, for He seeketh only such to worship Him. All ceremonies whatever which any Church may prescribe or habitually practise as a necessary part of worship must render that worship a Judaising one, and is a rag or relic of a system which we are emphatically told is “abolished” and “vanished away.” Whether priests are by any Church religiously required to wear a white or a black or a red gown, or whether they be religiously forbidden to do so, are, I think, alike breaches of the Divine precept—the only one circumstance which seems to be enjoined is that “all things be done decently and in order.”