He must believe in the activity of devils- He must believe in the conventional hell He must believe in bodily resurrection— He must be spiritless, mournful, meek, pure, peacefulHe must enjoy persecution He must never be angry He must not criticise He must not use uncomplimentary epithets He must not argue— He must conquer evil inclinations He must not marry one who has been divorced He must not take oath He must not resist evil- He must vary his prayers He must fast He must not accumulate wealth He must not worry He must avoid vanities He must not judge— He must not be worldly He must not speak idly— He must be content with wages- Where, oh, where is the letter-perfect convert? Where is there one single bunch of Christians who even attempt to obey one half of the above-or one quarteror one eighth ? Suppose there were a crowd of people born and living in a jail, men, women, children-good, bad and indifferent. Suppose their parents had been born there before them, so that they inherited the situation, vaguely realizing that they were being punished for some early sins of long forgotten ancestors. Suppose they had traditions of a time when the jail had been flooded to drown those then living, as rats in a sunken ship, and suppose they believed in evidence of certain favouritism at the hands of some outside tyrant, whom they believed to have built the jail. Might they not uneasily dread the waiting future judgment at his hands, and long for a deliverer? And now suppose that one be born among them, claiming to have been surreptitiously fathered by the outside jailer, and to be in direct communication with him. Suppose that this interpreter should warn them of fiery torture awaiting them outside, from which none could escape except by abject fawning. Suppose he should threaten those who would dare defy the reigning power with relentless vengeance. Suppose he should ask them to repent for having been born or sinners, to love him for coming to save them, and to try for a promised reward by also loving their jailer, and repenting for having displeased him. Suppose, also, that within their gloomy surroundings these unfortunates had grown to forget some of their troubles by engaging in useful toil, learning the delights of social and family ties, and rigidly curbing the evil tendencies of their most perverse associates. Suppose that this new authority were to assure them that their duties were unimportant, their loves and joys a sham, and their criminal neighbours worthy to be taken in among them on equal terms. Would this not be the final test of their patience? What wonder if some of the rougher element were to fall upon this curious reasoner and put him out to join the waiting father? What wonder, too, if the revulsion of feeling at their savagery should make the remonstrance of the better class assume the form of belief in his assertions? And yet, what if the imaginary outside terror were a myth, and the years of dread uncalled for? What if the supposed jail were rather a natural and beautiful home, created by no malice or mistake, but simply serving its purpose by accident? What if the boundaries of reason should expand in time and the mental vision be cleared to note no sign of lurking Torturer, no Trapdoor, no unmerciful Judge, no Craver of Adulation? Would not the liberated minds cry out in impatience at the previous waste of mental force, and experience a keen regret at the thought of wasted possibilities? Would they then still feel grateful to the memory of those who tried to strengthen these old superstitions, and still grant reverence to their misguided words? No! they would surely refuse to continue homage to their false prophets. And we who reason are compelled to take this stand with Christ. We refuse to recognize the claimed results of his misplaced energies, although we may respect their motives. We likewise refuse to thank his Unknown for the attempt to prove our home a Jail. It is only the menace of the possible Jailer that gives it any semblance to a Prison, and we decline to spoil the happiness accruing from what we have built up here by brooding over the punishment threatened for those who dare find earthly joys. We refuse to throw our all away to grovel for some dangled favour. And we who have known the relief of freedom have no right to retain its treasures to ourselves alone. Feeling the needs of others, still darkened by the cloud of false tradition, we should aid them to dispel the gloom that bears so heavily upon their burdened lives. We run to ring alarms when noting fire, no matter whether it is property of our own or that of some one else which is in danger. We do not stop to reason upon the possible motive of the one responsible for the calamity, whether it were brought about by evil intent, carelessness or some fanatical idea that good would come of it. We simply note the present danger. Christ started a conflagration which is still smouldering. It has burned up many a hideous thing, but has also scorched many a promising structure. The smoke always thickens as the fire encounters material not highly inflammable, and while not so dangerous as the flame, is still obstructive; and until we dampen all the little fresh fires of enthusiasm, it will continue with us. Perhaps it were wiser to withdraw outside the charred circle, letting it burn itself out for want of fresh fuel, still wetting down the edges for our future safety. |