JESUS AND REALITY IN RELIGION

EVERY lover of the Church of Christ in this country must be troubled as he considers those things which have been deemed of greatest importance during the last few years. Two things especially have been given great prominence in ecclesiastical discussions and assemblies : the Prayer Book, with a special regard to the validity of sacraments, and the relation between modem science and Christian belief, with special reference to evolution.

Far be it from me to deny that these subjects and their implications have a deep interest and a real value. I am sure Jesus would have had an interest in them. He could not but be interested in men's efforts to compile a book of prayers which could adequately serve all the members of a truly great Church. I think He would be interested in men's efforts to interpret, in the fullest manner possible, the simple Supper which He is said to have asked His followers to celebrate in remembrance of Himself. And, in regard to evolution, His own passion for truth would make Him sympathetic with every quest of the human mind. But when one remembers the words that have been written and spoken passion­ately on these subjects, and the controversies con­cerning them between eminent Church leaders, one's
136
mind is troubled, because one feels that we are regarding as of pre‑eminent importance matters which, to Jesus, would have been secondary; and thus we are diverting spiritual energies away from their true endeavour. Jesus would have been interested in the matters named, but He would have been not interested but passionately concerned that, for instance, at the time I write, there are starving miners in the Rhondda Valley. He had a great concern about bread, was tempted to preach a purely social gospel, was concerned that crowds had bread to eat, and inserted in the model prayer the petition, ' Give us daily our bread for the coming day.' He would have been concerned with the question of unemployment. It seemed to trouble Him, even in His day‑a day so simple compared with our complex civilization‑that there were men standing idle in the market‑place. He would have been passionately concerned with an evil like the White Slave Traffic. He had such a deep respect for womanhood. He would have been passionately concerned about our slums. He said a very interest­ing thing about housing. He held that every home should 'have one room to which members of the family could withdraw and be quiet and pray to their Father in secret. It would have been intoler­able to Him that the Church should be so complacent when five families lived in one house and people were herded together like animals. He would be much concerned about those who sit afar off in India, China, and Africa, and who have never heard of His transforming power. He could never lift His eyes
137
to the world's wide horizons without being moved with compassion for the multitude; without urging His followers to pray that more labourers might be thrust out to gather in the whitening harvest. He would have had a deep concern about war. War is a greater disbelief than any refusal to accept humanly formulated dogmas. As our mind runs over some of the things we need to put right as a great united Church, the instrument of His purposes on the earth, it seems to some of us that we are spending our energy in being concerned about things which to Jesus would have been merely matters of interest, and only interested in matters for which Jesus had the deepest concern.

The gospel of Jesus, as you read St. Mark, seems such a lovely, romantic, adventurous, simple thing. Not simple to follow out in life‑indeed, an adventure requiring all the grit, courage, and self‑renunciation of which man is capable‑but easy to understand and tremendously appealing. It proclaimed the glorious good news that a man, s true life consisted in a twofold attitude. He could look up into the face of God and say, ' My Father,' and he could stretch out his hand to every one of his fellows, of whatever nation, or kindred, or tribe, or tongue, and say, ' My brother.' It was a glorious message. There was something big about it. It had the tang of the sea in it, and the strength of mountains, and the loveliness of Galilean flowers. It was a thing which captured the imagination, set the mind wondering, and yet issued in magnificent activity and service.
138
We can hardly deny that it has suffered at the hands of ecclesiastics, popes, bishops, creed‑makers, doctrine‑mongers, and committee maniacs. It has become for some bewildering, confusing, wearisome, and complicated. It is as though a lovely sea‑bird, meant to mount on strong wings through the tempest, or under clear blue skies, a thing of beauty and strength, meant to gladden all hearts, should be imprisoned in ‑some foul, mouldering, brass cage, where its feathers would drop off, its eyes grow dim, and where its true purpose could not be achieved. As an instance of this we may note what has often been pointed out : that all children love Jesus, and thrill with the wonder of child delight when their imagination is allowed to realize the stories of what Jesus was and did. Yet few children like going to church. There is a vast significant difference between our cry, ' Bring the children to the Church,' and Jesus' cry, 'Don't hinder them from coming to Me.' They wanted to come to Him.

I often ask myself what Peter‑that fine, adven­turous, heroic spirit‑would say if he visited one of our churches for a few weeks. Probably he would be shown into the free seats because his clothes would smell of fish f What would he make of our queer, cumbrous machinery and our innumerable meetings ? What would he think as he tried to twist his mind round our elaborate theories and doctrines ; as he stood in church and watched people whose souls are smothered with money, singing hymns written by mystics who hadn't any; as he watched men and women who love ease and comfort and selfishness,
139
and to be thought well of by others better than any­thing else, listening to words read from the Scrip­tures in our sometimes droning, somnolent voices­words which originally had the sting of heroic challenge throbbing through them ? What would he say to our conventional respectability, our complacency, our desire to be on favourable terms with God and get ourselves to heaven?

There are many splendid things in modern Christianity, and I know that the mind must weave itself theories, and work must be organized to be done efficiently ; but look broadly at some aspects of modem Christianity, and ask yourself whether we are conveying to people the simple, good news of Jesus. Here is one man who says, as he smites the cover of the Bible, ' I believe in this infallible book from cover to cover. Every semicolon is inspired, and there isn't a single mistake in science, history, or fact,' though one recalls that it was written by scores of different writers, over a period of more than a thousand yearr Here is another man who says i ' I belong to an infallible Church which during a chequered existence has, through its Pope, never made any mistake either in theology or morality.' Here is another man who says: ' Unless you are baptized by total immersion in water you have no right to be considered a Christian.' Here is another who claims that a true follower of Christ must attend a particular service which, as Dr. Barnes points out, is said to have extraordinary value for piety and virtue if it is held at eight o'clock in the morning, but which, if held at eight o'clock in the evening, is
140
without authority or value, though the origin of this service was a rite instituted at the close of an evening meal, when Jesus, as it seems to some of us, gave men bread and wine much as we might give others a photograph of ourselves, saying, ' Let this remind you of me.' Here is another man who would refuse to partake of this sacramental meal if the bread were passed to him by some saintly lady. He would only accept it from the hands of a man who put forward the claim, which has never been in­telligently substantiated, that he was in apostolic succession to St. Peter. (And I would like to hear St. Peter on that point 1) Here is another man who places the emphasis on an intellectual creed which only a person with a special theological training could even understand, let alone subscribe to. Here is another man who will seriously tell you that when a certain wafer is blessed by the priest it will change its substance and become the actual body of Jesus. Others, again, put a great deal of emphasis on their contention that we are the lost ten tribes of Israel. Others, again, have driven undertakers to hold meetings to protect themselves, since the cry of a new sect is 'Millions now living will never die.'

I shall be accused of exaggerating in drawing up this catalogue‑and I plead guilty. At the same time, violent discussions have raged on all these points, and my justification for putting them together is to set them over against the actual teach­ing of Jesus. What did He say about the nature of these various emphases, many of which are regarded as central and essential by those who make them?
141
The answer is that He said nothing. Our accretions to His teaching have become substitutes for it. The greatest commandment, He says, is to love God and love your neighbour.

He stands among us tied up in our formalism, our creeds, and our superstitions, and He says: ' Follow Me.' He shows us a way of life, not a system of belief, not intricate organization, and not a series of ceremonial observances. When we have discussed all these points our findings are about as uncertain as they can be. Jesus was certain of His message; in Him we have power to become the sons of God. We must live as such and enter into that heritage of power, of radiant, throbbing life, and of deep and durable peace.

We shall win the world, not by clever thinking, intricate machinery, or ornate ritual, but by getting over to men Jesus' secret of a power that can trans­form life. The world will ultimately choose as the true Church of Christ that Church which produces most observably the life that was in Him. One imagines that in the final denomination‑which might well have for its motto the slogan ' Back to Jesus'‑a condition of membership will be that people must read St. Mark's Gospel, and, having heard what Jesus said, they shall ex­press a desire to follow His way of life wherever it leads, and be prepared to discipline their lives accordingly. If I were asked what I thought they would have to believe, I would suggest that, as in the davs of His flesh, men should believe nothing except those truths which grow up by themselves in
142
the mind through sheer communion with Jesus, communion that becomes real through making personal adventures in prayer. In that final denomination, also, machinery would be kept very simple, and be mainly concerned with cases of actual need and with the supreme aim of getting men into direct touch with Jesus. The trouble with our present ecclesiastical machinery is that we have not enough current to drive it, and it is a poor game pushing wheels round with your hands when they ought to be revolving speedily and silently in res‑w ponse to a new power. We have got away from this source of power, which is, frankly, personal com­munion and friendship with Jesus; and, instead of getting back to it, we build more and more machin­ery. It is pathetic to notice the ' stunts ' adopted to get people to church, to hear of appeals to people to take office ' to keep the thing going,' to mark the innumerable meetings held during one winter in any one church compared with the effort to touch the outsider, to see the eagerness to enlarge the social life of the Church compared with the eagerness to apply to the world the social implications of the Church's message. Yet we are content thus to push the machine along, since it is easier to organize a meeting and attend it, to sing ' Rimington ' and 'Duke St.' and imagine oneself keen, to go home and criticize it, than to go out under the stars, find one's way into the presence of Jesus, be re‑baptized by His spirit, re‑energized with His power, and say in the spirit of utter consecration, 'Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do? '
143
In the first century, men and women of small means and education, with simple organization and little concern with the social life of the Church, were so vibrant and alive with the spirit of their Master, so amazingly happy, so exuberantly certain that they had a secret which would transform men's lives, so passionately eager to pass it on, that Christianity spread, not by advertisement and stunt and piteous invitation, but Eke a glorious infection. Nor did men doubt the source of this new power that was flooding the world with light and energy, for ' when they beheld the boldness of Peter and John they took knowledge of them that they had been with Jesus.'

The way will be the same for us. The need of the world is Jesus. The hunger of the world is for Jesus. The hope of the world is Jesus. The healing of the world is in Jesus, and the Church must put the emphasis where Jesus put it‑namely, on Himself. We are not to ask what Jesus would do, but 'What would Jesus have me do in the circumstances in which I find myself ? ' There is no greater need in the Church than a deeper personal spiritual experi­ence of Christ on the part of the individual member. He who goes back to Jesus and follows His way of life in all its simplicity and daring will be neither rich nor popular, but he will find a durable satis­faction. Life will be full of power, meaning, purpose, and beauty. Jesus fills it with the sunshine of His glory, the radiance of His abiding presence, and the strength of His ineffable peace.