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are pressing on to see if it be really the Promised Land.”
“Pisgah—the Promised Land!” Mr. McCabe in that passage sounds as
if he were halfway to “Oh! Beulah Land!” and the tambourine.
That “larger spirit,” we maintain, is God; those “impulses” are the
power of God, and Mr. McCabe serves a Master he denies. He has but
to realise fully that God is not necessarily the Triune God of the
Catholic Church, and banish his intense suspicion that he may yet be
lured back to that altar he abandoned, he has but to look up from
that preoccupation, and immediately he will begin to realise the
presence of Divinity.
3. GOD IS AN EXTERNAL REALITY
It may be argued that if atheists and agnostics when they set
themselves to express the good will that is in them, do shape out
God, that if their conception of right living falls in so completely
with the conception of God’s service as to be broadly identical,
then indeed God, like the ether of scientific speculation, is no
more than a theory, no more than an imaginative externalisation of
man’s inherent good will. Why trouble about God then? Is not the
declaration of a good disposition a sufficient evidence of
salvation? What is the difference between such benevolent
unbelievers as Professor Metchnikoff or Mr. McCabe and those who
have found God?
The difference is this, that the benevolent atheist stands alone
upon his own good will, without a reference, without a standard,
trusting to his own impulse to goodness, relying upon his own moral
strength. A certain immodesty, a certain self-righteousness, hangs
like a precipice above him; incalculable temptations open like gulfs
beneath his feet. He has not really given himself or got away from
himself. He has no one to whom he can give himself. He is still a
masterless man. His exaltation is self-centred, is priggishness,
his fall is unrestrained by any exterior obligation. His devotion
is only the good will in himself, a disposition; it is a mood that
may change. At any moment it may change. He may have pledged
himself to his own pride and honour, but who will hold him to his
bargain? He has no source of strength beyond his own amiable
sentiments, his conscience speaks with an unsupported voice, and no
one watches while he sleeps. He cannot pray; he can but ejaculate.
He has no real and living link with other men of good will.
And those whose acquiescence in the idea of God is merely
intellectual are in no better case than those who deny God
altogether. They may have all the forms of truth and not divinity.
The religion of the atheist with a God-shaped blank at its heart and
the persuasion of the unconverted theologian, are both like lamps
unlit. The lit lamp has no difference in form from the lamp unlit.
But the lit lamp is alive and the lamp unlit is asleep or dead.
The difference between the unconverted and the unbeliever and the
servant of the true God is this; it is that the latter has
experienced a complete turning away from self. This only difference
is all the difference in the world. It is the realisation that this
goodness that I thought was within me and of myself and upon which I
rather prided myself, is without me and above myself, and infinitely
greater and stronger than I. It is the immortal and I am mortal.
It is invincible and steadfast in its purpose, and I am weak and
insecure. It is no longer that I, out of my inherent and remarkable
goodness, out of the excellence of my quality and the benevolence of
my heart, give a considerable amount of time and attention to the
happiness and welfare of others—because I choose to do so. On the
contrary I have come under a divine imperative, I am obeying an
irresistible call, I am a humble and willing servant of the
righteousness of God. That altruism which Professor Metchnikoff and
Mr. McCabe would have us regard as the goal and refuge of a broad
and free intelligence, is really the first simple commandment in the
religious life.
4. ANOTHER RELIGIOUS MATERIALIST
Now here is a passage from a book, “Evolution and the War,” by
Professor Metchnikoff’s translator, Dr. Chalmers Mitchell, which
comes even closer to our conception of God as an immortal being
arising out of man, and external to the individual man. He has been
discussing that well-known passage of Kant’s: “Two things fill my
mind with ever-renewed wonder and awe the more often and deeper I
dwell on them—the starry vault above me, and the moral law within
me.”
From that discussion, Dr. Chalmers Mitchell presently comes to this
most definite and interesting statement:
“Writing as a hard-shell Darwinian evolutionist, a lover of the
scalpel and microscope, and of patient, empirical observation, as
one who dislikes all forms of supernaturalism, and who does not
shrink from the implications even of the phrase that thought is a
secretion of the brain as bile is a secretion of the liver, I assert
as a biological fact that the moral law is as real and as external
to man as the starry vault. It has no secure seat in any single man
or in any single nation. It is the work of the blood and tears of
long generations of men. It is not in man, inborn or innate, but is
enshrined in his traditions, in his customs, in his literature and
his religion. Its creation and sustenance are the crowning glory of
man, and his consciousness of it puts him in a high place above the
animal world. Men live and die; nations rise and fall, but the
struggle of individual lives and of individual nations must be
measured not by their immediate needs, but as they tend to the
debasement or perfection of man’s great achievement.”
This is the same reality. This is the same Link and Captain that
this book asserts. It seems to me a secondary matter whether we
call Him “Man’s Great Achievement” or “The Son of Man” or the “God
of Mankind” or “God.” So far as the practical and moral ends of
life are concerned, it does not matter how we explain or refuse to
explain His presence in our lives.
There is but one possible gap left between the position of Dr.
Chalmers Mitchell and the position of this book. In this book it is
asserted that GOD RESPONDS, that he GIVES courage and the power of
self-suppression to our weakness.
5. A NOTE ON A LECTURE BY PROFESSOR GILBERT MURRAY
Let me now quote and discuss a very beautiful passage from a lecture
upon Stoicism by Professor Gilbert Murray, which also displays the
same characteristic of an involuntary shaping out of God in the
forms of denial. It is a passage remarkable for its conscientious
and resolute Agnosticism. And it is remarkable too for its
blindness to the possibility of separating quite completely the idea
of the Infinite Being from the idea of God. It is another striking
instance of that obsession of modern minds by merely Christian
theology of which I have already complained. Professor Murray has
quoted Mr. Bevan’s phrase for God, “the Friend behind phenomena,”
and he does not seem to realise that that phrase carries with it no
obligation whatever to believe that this Friend is in control of the
phenomena. He assumes that he is supposed to be in control as if it
were a matter of course:
“We do seem to find,” Professor Murray writes, “not only in all
religions, but in practically all philosophies, some belief that man
is not quite alone in the universe, but is met in his endeavours
towards the good by some external help or sympathy. We find it
everywhere in the unsophisticated man. We find it in the unguarded
self-revelations of the most severe and conscientious Atheists.
Now, the Stoics, like many other schools of thought, drew an
argument from this consensus of all mankind. It was not an absolute
proof of the existence of the Gods or Providence, but it was a
strong indication. The existence of a common instinctive belief in
the mind of man gives at least a presumption that there must be a
good cause for that belief.
“This is a reasonable position. There must be some such cause. But
it does not follow that the only valid cause is the truth of the
content of the belief. I cannot help suspecting that this is
precisely one of those points on which Stoicism, in company with
almost all philosophy up to the present time, has gone astray
through not sufficiently realising its dependence on the human mind
as a natural biological product. For it is very important in this
matter to realise that the so-called belief is not really an
intellectual judgment so much as a craving of the whole nature.
“It is only of very late years that psychologists have begun to
realise the enormous dominion of those forces in man of which he is
normally unconscious. We cannot escape as easily as these brave men
dreamed from the grip of the blind powers beneath the threshold.
Indeed, as I see philosophy after philosophy falling into this
unproven belief in the Friend behind phenomena, as I find that I
myself cannot, except for a moment and by an effort, refrain from
making the same assumption, it seems to me that perhaps here too we
are under the spell of a very old ineradicable instinct. We are
gregarious animals; our ancestors have been such for countless ages.
We cannot help looking out on the world as gregarious animals do; we
see it in terms of humanity and of fellowship. Students of animals
under domestication have shown us how the habits of a gregarious
creature, taken away from his kind, are shaped in a thousand details
by reference to the lost pack which is no longer there—the pack
which a dog tries to smell his way back to all the time he is out
walking, the pack he calls to for help when danger threatens. It is
a strange and touching thing, this eternal hunger of the gregarious
animal for the herd of friends who are not there. And it may be, it
may very possibly be, that, in the matter of this Friend behind
phenomena our own yearning and our own almost ineradicable
instinctive conviction, since they are certainly not founded on
either reason or observation, are in origin the groping of a lonely-souled gregarious animal to find its herd or its herd-leader in the
great spaces between the stars.
“At any rate, it is a belief very difficult to get rid of.”
There the passage and the lecture end.
I would urge that here again is an inadvertent witness to the
reality of God.
Professor Murray writes of gregarious animals as though there
existed solitary animals that are not gregarious, pure
individualists, “atheists” so to speak, and as though this appeal to
a life beyond one’s own was not the universal disposition of living
things. His classical training disposes him to a realistic
exaggeration of individual difference. But nearly every animal, and
certainly every mentally considerable animal, begins under parental
care, in a nest or a litter, mates to breed, and is associated for
much of its life. Even the great carnivores do not go alone except
when they are old and have done with the most of life. Every pack,
every herd, begins at some point in a couple, it is the equivalent
of the tiger’s litter if that were to remain undispersed. And it is
within the memory of men still living that in many districts the
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