A Religious Solution to the Social Problem
(Pendle Hill Essays, Number Two) Paperback – January 1, 1934
by Howard H. Brinton (Author)
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Howard H.Brinton, Ph.D., Professor of Religion, Mills College; Acting Director, Pendle Hill, 1934-35.
Published 1934 by Pendle Hill
Republished electronically © 2004 by Pendle Hill
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A religious solution to the social problem involves an answer to two preliminary qu estions — what social problem are we attempting to solve and what religion do we offer as a solu tion? Since religion has assu med a wide variety of forms it will be necessary, if we are to simplify and clarify ou r approach, to adopt at the ou tset a definite religiou s viewpoint. To define ou r premises as those of Christianity in gen eral is n ot su fficien tly explicit becau se h istoric Christianity has itself assu med a wide variety of forms. For the pu rpose of the present u ndertaking I shall approach ou r problem from the original point of view of the Society of Frien ds, wh ich , in m an y ways, resem bled th at of early Christianity. Su ch an approach need not imply a narrow s ect a r ia n view. E a r ly Qu a k er is m exh ib it ed cer t a in characteristics common to many religiou s movements in their initial creative periods. Later Qu akerism has shared the fate of other movements in failing to carry on the ideals of the fou nders. As for the social problem for which we seek a solu tion, it is the fu ndamental dilemma ou t of which most presen t-day social problem s arise. Stated as briefly as possible, w e seek a remedy for excessive individualism, and w e require of this remedy that it shall at the same time respect the hard-w on rights of the individual.
The paradoxical character of this statement su ggests that, if there be a solu tion, it may tu rn ou t to be a religiou s one, for religion feeds on paradox. No merely logical scheme, based wholly on science and reason, will, it is probable, do more than su bmerge the individu al throu gh some sort of mechanical collectivism. Religion at its highest and most creative stage is, we shall find, the one solvent for excessive individu alism which at the same time enhances the respect for individu al personality.
To assu me that the problem has a religiou s solu tion is not, however, to offer a su bstitu te for economic, sociological, political, or psychological analysis and planning. A bu ilder who uses steam-driven machinery does not claim that steam alone can build a house or a bridge. Obviously, mathematical calcu lation, materials, tools, and skilled workers are also needed. By similar token the religiou s thinker does not claim that religion alone can reform ou r social order. It provides power, not tools, nor blu eprints. Many a social reformer today is like a bu ilder who orders “work ahead at fu ll speed,” while the fires are going out under his boilers. We are seeking a way to rekindle those fires.
The Primitive Christian Solution
The primitive Christian community when it met together for worship was like an early Qu aker meeting in the freedom with which variou s members exercised their gifts and in th e absen ce of a service program m ed in advan ce an d dominated throughout by ritual and human leadership. This is shown in Pau l’s so-called first letter to the Corinthians. In both early Qu akerism and early Christianity religiou s grou ps were formed whose individu al members were fu sed together as fire fuses metals, by a living infusion of the Spirit. No ou ter mechanical bond was necessary. The coming of the Spirit was indeed the great miracle of early Christianity. The Leader had departed in the flesh, leaving His followers forlorn and scattered. Su ddenly in the flames of Pentecost He had retu rned seeking fresh incarnation in the body of the Chu rch. At the beginning it was the personal leadership of J esu s which held His followers together. Now a new tie of a different sort was formed. Eventu ally this permeative bond held every Christian commu nity from J eru salem to Rome. It came most vividly to consciou sness in the agape or love feast; a common meal partaken of reverently in remembrance of the Last Su pper. Congregations became u nited with each other and with their Leader in a living organic commu nion. “Ch ristian s of th e first gen eration ,” says Dr. Streeter, “troubled themselves little about the theory either of doctrine or of Chu rch Order. . . . The most vivid fact of present experience was the ou tpou ring of ‘the Spirit’.” (Primitive Christianity, p. 73.)
In the early Christian meeting for worship, the Spirit exercised the same fu nction that the sou l exercises in the body; it u nited and coordinated the u nits of which the whole was composed. By a natu ral process the doctrine arose that the chu rch was the mystical body of Christ. “The God of ou r Lord J esu s Christ,” writes Pau l, “gave Him to be the head over all things to the chu rch which is His body, the fu llness of Him that filleth all in all.” (Ephesians I: 22,23). Man is s a ved , th erefore, n ot th rou gh a n extern a l h is torica l transaction, as has been declared in many Protestant creeds, bu t throu gh the Spirit of Christ inspiring and u nifying the Chu rch. Salvation accordingly becomes a social process in which the grou p takes part. It is not merely a transaction between God and isolated individu als.
Sin is estrangement. The individu al in himself is lonely a n d in com plete. He is sa ved, th a t is, h is isola tion is overcome, by finding and being fou nd by a greater Life which u nites him at once with Itself and with his fellows. This Life, he feels, does not come u p from the biological level below, like the life of the body. It possesses a special qu ality whereby it is recognized as divine and coming from above. Only the u pward glance senses it. Its presence fills the worshiper with awe and reverence. It creates new life in him and new life in the grou p. It is the same creative spirit, which has always brooded over the world, bringing order ou t of chaos. “Withou t Him was not anything made that hath been made. In Him was life and the life was the Light of men.”
The central doctrine of the great Chu rch of the Middle Ages held that man is saved in and throu gh a Christian Society which is the body of Christ inspired by His Spirit. In the hands of theologians and priests it became mechanized and was given a ritu alistic interpretation. Bu t the Chu rch never forgot that Christ was present in His hou se of worship. His presence was realized in the sacrament of the Mass. Nor was it forgotten that fellow Christians cou ld contribu te to one another’s salvation, thou gh only a shadow of the early belief remained in the doctrine that sinners might have some share in the abou nding merit of the saints. The Catholic Chu rch has developed, more directly than is often realized, in u n broken con tin u ity ou t of th e prim itive Ch ristian Chu rch.
Th ere a re m a n y wa ys by wh ich a n a ggrega te of
individu als can overcome excess of individu ality in its parts and be u nited as a whole. The means may be biological, as in the family and the tribe; they may be economic, as in the trade u n ion or bu sin ess organ ization ; or th ey m ay be political, as in the state. There is, however, as history has repeatedly shown, no more dynamic nor effectu al means of social integration than that which we call religious. The roots of the Chu rch go deeper than the roots of family, of state, or of any other type of hu man organization. The early Chu rch was a religiou sly integrated grou p bou nd together by an invisible presence in the midst. The individu ality of each part was not thereby canceled ou t; rather it was lifted u p into something higher, throu gh which the essential pu rpose of each individu al was fu lfilled. Ou t of this higher u nity in the Spirit, the lower types of organization were generated, inclu ding the economic. The Chu rch at J eru salem acted at first like one large family. The commu nism in which it began was soon given up, but there remained a considerable degree of econ om ic in terdepen den ce. Th e poor were carefu lly provided for. The fact that other types of worship and chu rch organization soon su perceded this original commu nity of spirit on a basis of democratic equ ality before God does not d etra ct from its s ign ifica n ce a s a n im p orta n t s ocia l phenomenon.
The Early Quaker Solution
Ea rly Qu a keris m wen t even fu rth er th a n ea rly Christianity in its dependence on a pu rely spiritu al type of u nity. Baptism was given u p becau se it was an u nnecessary external addition to an inner spiritu al reality. There is some eviden ce th at th e agape or love feast occu rred in som e primitive Qu aker grou ps,1 bu t qu ite early and generally the su pper of the Lord was celebrated wholly in silent spiritu al communion. The Quaker meeting was a religiously integrated grou p. There was no bond bu t the Spirit, no creed bu t that which came fresh and u pwelling from the Eternal Fou ntain of Tru th. The u nit was not the individu al bu t the meeting, for it was the “sense of the meeting” and not the sense of the individu al which determined the cou rse of action.
As in early Christianity, the higher u nity generated the lower types. There was in early Qu akerism a large degree of economic interdependence; — the poor, the sick and the persecu ted were carefu lly looked after by th e m eetin g. Francis Howgill thu s describes the natu re of the bond which u nited the early Qu aker meetings: “The Lord appeared daily to u s , to ou r a s ton is h m en t, a m a zem en t, a n d grea t admiration, insomu ch that we often said one u nto another with great joy of heart: ‘What? Is the Kingdom of God come to be with men?’ And from that day forward ou r hearts were knit u nto the Lord and u nto one another in tru e and fervent love, not by any external covenant or external form, bu t we entered into the covenant of life with God, and that was a strong obligation or bond u pon all ou r spirits which u nited u s on e u n to an oth er.” (Testimony concerning Edward Burrough.)
The Qu aker doctrine of the Inner Light has sometimes been interpreted as an extreme form of religiou s individu alism. This seems at first sight to be a natu ral dedu ction. If man has a Light within, he is, by this view, independent of Chu rch, Book, and Society in his search for tru th and salvation. He is su bject to no law ou tside himself, for his fin al au th ority is an In n er Gu ide. Th is in dividu alistic interpretation has arisen partly from the mistaken belief that Qu akerism is the extreme left wing of Protestantism and the resu lt of Protestant doctrines carried to their logical con clu sion . Accordin g to th is view, Protesta n tism , in abolishing the Chu rch as a means of salvation, su bstitu ted a direct relation between man and God. Fearfu l, however, of the anarchy resu lting from so extreme an individu alism, Protestantism sou ght for a means of external control which it fou nd ready at hand in Bible and in creed. Qu akerism, however, did not retreat. It placed its whole dependence on a direct relation with the God Whom it fou nd within. Creed, Bible, an d ritu al were dispen sed with an d religion was redu ced to pu re interiority. Qu akerism, according to su ch an interpretation, is simplicity. By a process of su btraction it has eliminated all that is institu tional, ritu alistic, and historical and has thu s carried Protestant individu alism to its logical conclu sion.
There was, indeed, a Reformation Grou p in England wh ich followed th is path , bu t it was not the Society of Friends. The Ranters, with whom George Fox had many vigorou s dispu tes, declared that everyone who considered himself inspired by the Inner Light was a law u nto himself. To have God within was to be God and so become incapable of sin or error. Fox denied the Calvinistic doctrine of total depravity, bu t he as vigorou sly denied this easy means of attaining perfection. In his J ou rnal, Fox relates that the learned J u stice Hotham said to him that “if God had not raised u p this principle of light and life which he, Fox, prea ch ed, th e n a tion wou ld h a ve been overru n with Ranterism.” There was, however, a Ranter party in the early Society of Friends.2 When a form of chu rch government was set u p th rou gh m eetin gs for bu sin ess, th ere resu lted a separation on the part of some who believed in a pu rely individu al form of gu idance. This was the Wilkinson-Story separation of 1676.
The Society of Friends took the position that the sou rce of gu idance was not merely an individu al light bu t the “sense of the meeting,” in other words a commu nal light. This commu nal light which illu mined the grou p was reached in a spirit of worship throu gh which each individu al aspired to a super-individual level of reality where all individual lights merged into one. It is difficu lt to make this process clear to an yon e wh o h as n ot actu ally experien ced it. In dividu al insight is not su ppressed, bu t rather it is expanded into something higher and more inclu sive, ju st as a view gained from the foothills is not denied, bu t fu lfilled and interpreted by the view from the mou ntain top. The individu al view may n ot be wh olly in error. It is s im ply fra gm en ta ry a n d incomplete. The individu al, provided, of cou rse, that he is in the tru e spirit of a worship which orients him toward something higher than himself, finds himself saying in the end, “that is ju st what I really meant bu t did not qu ite see clearly.”
Dean Inge says that “Qu akerism is an individu alistic mysticism” (The Social Teaching of the Chu rch, p. 21), bu t Troeltsch is right in asserting that “the Qu akers overcame the natu ral antisocial or rather individu alistic tendency of mysticism.” (The Social Teachings of the Christian Churches, Vol. II, p. 700). The grou p method of arriving at conclu sions is the one u niqu e contribu tion which Qu akerism has made to Christian thou ght and practice. Trevelyan (History of England, p. 431) says that “George Fox made at least the most original contribu tion to the history of religion of any En glish m an .” Th e Qu aker m eth od is m ore th an ju st a process of group thinking such as is described in some recent books.3 It is a grou p thinking where God is present in the grou p. Grou ps often ten d to sag below th e level of th e individu als of which they are composed. Bu t the divine presence insu res an integration on a higher level. A mob can be fu sed into u nity by looking downward to the infrahu man instinctive level. A Qu aker meeting aims to become u nited by looking u pward to the su pra-hu man, that is to something higher than any one individu al or any collection of individu als.
This is not a “democratic” method in the narrow sense of that term, for there is no domination of a majority over a minority. If a good degree of u nity is not reached, no action is taken. It sometimes happens, of cou rse, that an individu al who disagrees will either su bmit as best he can or follow his own gu idance at all costs. More often he finds that the conclu sion arrived at expresses his own deepest insight. The search for u nity is not a search for a compromise nor for the greatest common divisor of a nu mber of diverse opinions. It comes rather as an integration in which the parts are not overbou rne, bu t transmu ted into something more complete, ju st as oxygen and hydrogen in u niting to form water are not destroyed, bu t transformed. This figu re can be carried fu rther. As in the combination of oxygen and hydrogen energy is released which can cu t throu gh the strongest steel; so a grou p of persons if it be able to arrive at a higher u nity generates a spiritu al energy which becomes available for incalcu lable practical u se in the world arou nd.
The History Of The Social Problem
The significance and character of this Qu aker method can be better u n derstood if we tu rn n ow to th e social problem . Th is problem can best be defin ed th rou gh an historical approach. It arises in an age of transition when a highly individu alistic cu ltu re has ru n its cou rse and the time is ripe for society to pass over into some more collective form. A change su ch as this occu rred in the early Christian centu ries when a decadent individu alistic Graeco-Roman cu ltu re passed over into the collective cu ltu re of the Middle Ages. Th e Graeco-Rom an cu ltu re at its begin n in g was centered first in the tribe and then in a collection of tribes forming the city-state. These were essentially religiou sly integrated commu nities.
Even tu ally, with th e form ation of great cities, th e expan sion of com m erce, an d th e wide developm en t of learning, individu alism set in, u ntil society lost all inner cohesion and cou ld only be held together by the dictatorial policy of a Caesar. Religion , wh ich on ce h ad been an in tegrative social force, degen erated in to a skeptical or pantheistic philosophy, or into a solitary negative mysticism, or into a passionate effort to secu re personal immortality. Finally when all inherited reserves of social u nity had been exh au sted; wh en , in th e ru th less stru ggle for econ om ic advantage, wealth had become concentrated in the hands of a few, the whole stru ctu re cru mbled to a chaotic mass of atoms and barbarians from the north walked in u pon the ru ins u ndeterred.
Yet in th is ch aos an d disin tegration th ere existed islands, religiou sly in tegrated grou ps of Christian s wh o offered to the world a new way of life. They were not thinking of a pu rely individu al salvation. They had their gaze fixed u pward awaiting a Messiah who had promised to descend and inau gu rate a new social order. Bu t they did not wait passively for His coming. They set u p examples of that new promised social order in their own grou ps for there the Messiah had already come in the Spirit. The visible Chu rch became the kingdom of God on earth at least in germ, as St. Au gu stine shows in his “City of God.” This Chu rch, the ou tward body of the Messiah, grew and increased in power u ntil in the twelfth and thirteenth centu ries it dominated the whole cu ltu re of Eu rope. In itself it u nited all things: ph ilosoph y, th eology, scien ce, a rt, politics, la n gu a ge, edu cation. It cut across national bou ndaries ju st as the Leagu e of Nations attempts to do today.
But, like all living things, the Church reached its zenith and decayed. The current of life grew weak u ntil the whole stru ctu re seemed to many only a lifeless mechanism. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centu ries a new era of transition set in. This time it was in the opposite direction from the earlier transition of the fou rth and fifth centu ries. A growing individu alism broke u p the old dying grou p life expressed in chu rch, trade gu ild, and feu dal system. The Protestantism of Lu ther and Calvin abolished the Chu rch as a means of salvation and su bstitu ted an individu al relation between man and God. The mechanics of Galileo and Newton revealed a world governed by law, not a world integrated by sou ls. The Spirit had no place in the system.
The great hu manists of the Renaissance u ncovered the brilliant age of classical antiqu ity when man once before had u sed the matchless power of his own individu al reason to discover tru th, goodness, and beau ty. Great explorers open ed n ew vis ta s of h u m a n wea lth a n d a dven tu re. Philosophers discovered that knowledge is power to overcome natu re with the tools of science; it does not remain the passive contemplation of changeless tru th. Mankind reveled in his powers “like a giant refreshed with new wine.” The old su pernatu ralism with its other worldly standards of life was thrown off like the fetters of a prisoner. The seventeenth centu ry was an age of giants whose achievements increased th e gen era l s elf con fid en ce, — Bacon , Shakespeare, Cervan tes, Kepler, Galileo, Newton , Harvey, Descartes, Pascal, Locke, Spinoza, Leibnitz, — the list could be extended mu ch fu rther. Qu ite natu rally there grew u p a doctrine, strange to the Middle Ages, that progress is inevitable. The discovery of biological evolu tion in the nineteenth centu ry confirmed this belief.
In the nineteenth centu ry individu alism in the wellknown form of “liberalism” asserted the right of every man to freedom and equ ality of opportu nity. Among its principal philosophers were Mill and Spencer. Under the stimu lating influ ence of this type of thou ght a rapid advance was made in many fields of hu man achievement, thou gh not in art or religion. To be “liberal” meant to be willing to give to everyone the right to advance his own opinions whatever they might be. The resu lt was new light on many qu estions. It meant also the right of the strong man to accu mu late wealth in whatever rank of society he might be, provided he played according to the ru les of the game. The resu lt was a rapid increase in the total amou nt of wealth. Yet liberalism by itself, however important its achievements, is an incomplete and one-sided philosophy of life. In defending the rights of the parts it tends to forget the rights of the whole. It stands for in creased freedom , bu t h as less to say of in creased responsibility. This is illu strated by the fact that the socalled “liberalism” of the present moment, thou gh it still attacks all forms of regimentation, has largely tended to become reactionary. The doctrines, once u sed to advance reform, may also be u sed to retard it.
With the rapid advance of humanism and individualism th e su pern atu ral h as gradu ally faded from th e pictu re. Protestantism venerated it, bu t banished it to Bible times or the next world. Science cou ld discover nothing higher than hu man reason, and reason seemed capable of solving every p ra ctica l p rob lem . Writers on s ocia l th eories , en deavorin g to be scien tific, declared th at en ligh ten ed selfish n ess was en ou gh to h old society togeth er. Th eir “econ om ic m an ” pu rsu ed h is own in terests bu t h e was compelled to regard the interests of others in so far as they a ffected h is own . In th e n in eteen th cen tu ry s cien ce su cceeded in redu cing the world of matter to a swarm of molecu les and atoms each going its own individu al way regardless of any “spirit of the whole.” In the same way scientific economists reduced society to a collection of human atoms each pursuing its own interest. In politics also, science set the pace. As in mechanics the bigger swarm of atoms exerts a greater force than the smaller, so in politics the bigger swarm of hu man atoms prevails over the smaller swarm. Qu estions of right and wrong are settled by cou nting heads just as in the science of mechanics problems are solved by cou nting pou nds and feet.
In every field of h u m a n en dea vor th e process of atomization continu ed. Art broke away from the whole of cu ltu re and wanted to be art for art’s sake. Religion declared that it wou ld stick to its own field and leave politics and social qu estions alone. Science declared its independence of religion . Th e field of kn owledge becam e com pletely departmentalized so that a professor of physics was prou d to know nothing of psychology.
It is a cu riou s fact that science, the chief instru ment of man in his victoriou s stru ggle against natu re, was the first to betray him and hand him over, bou nd hand and foot, to his adversary. Science declared that man has no freedom of will, bu t is the helpless victim of blind mechanical forces; that instead of a fallen angel he is only a risen animal; that his mind (if any) is a mere bu ndle of reflexes; that his most exalted emotions resu lt from certain chemical compou nds exu ded by his glands; that his most heartfelt opinions are manu factu red by the science of propaganda. It is hard to u nderstand why man has endu red all these insu lts from science with su ch serenity ju st as we are pu zzled by the Calvinist who takes a kind of pride in his total depravity and eternal damnation.
In spite of all, a general belief in hu man self-su fficiency lingered u ntil the World War. The shock of this catastrophe and even more the inability of man to learn anything by it or take any valid measu res to prevent its recu rrence has given a terrific jolt to faith in the inevitability of hu man progress. One thing yet remains, however, a faith in the inevitability of scientific progress. The Centu ry of Progress, celebrated at Chicago, clearly marked a great and calcu lable scientific advance. Here it was shown that if science cannot make life significant, it can at least make it comfortable. Bu t even this last hope seems now to be vanishing. Vast progress in the mechanical means of manu factu ring goods has not brou ght physical comfort as mu ch nearer as might be su pposed. It has increased the extremes of greed and want and piled u p goods which the needy are u nable to bu y. Th e res u lt is , a giga n tic depres s ion wh ich s till con tin u es. No won der th at pessim ism is replacin g th e optimism of a generation ago. It is the pessimism of the isolated individu al standing alone in a friendless u niverse, with no means of meeting the vast impersonal economic and physical forces which bid fair to overwhelm him.
A grou p of modern hu manists come forward at this point with a remedy. The excellence of their literary abilities somewhat conceals the naiveté of their plan of salvation. They ask man to assert his hu manity; to deny that he is a beast or a machine, to defy the tyrant Natu re and to declare his independence of natu ral appetite and natu ral law. Bu t they can point to no sou rce of power throu gh which this declaration of independence can be made effective. They can only assert that this attitu de is essentially reasonable (or hu man). They do not seem to realize that man can raise himself above the animal level only by grasping hold of that wh ich is h igh er than h im self. Withou t external h elp h e cannot lift himself spiritu ally any more than he can lift himself physically. Man is not self-su fficient. He becomes in depen den t of n a tu re on ly in s o fa r a s h e becom es dependent on that which is above natu re.
The m odern literary hu m anists ask u s to take ou r standards of condu ct from the hu manistic ages of classical antiqu ity or of the Renaissance. Bu t these ages, u nlike ou r own, followed immediately u pon epochs when man reached u p to the divine, and it was largely from those epochs that the hu manism of the past drew its reserves of power. At the present time the reserves of power are becoming slowly exhau sted, and the pu ll from below is becoming stronger than the pu ll from above. Three centu ries ago man began to lose his faith in the su per-hu man. Little did he know then that this loss of faith in the su per-hu man wou ld cau se him to lose faith in the hu man also. Losing his grip on the higher he sags into the lower.
This new fall of man is not ju st a declaration on the part of science that man is either an animal organism, as biology asserts, or a machine as mechanistic physics wou ld have u s believe. It is more than a change of viewpoint. If, in this God-forsaken world, man believes that he cannot look u pward for help he may conclu de that he can at least look downward. Why not be a beast in fact as well as in theory and enjoy the satisfaction of animal appetites with a clear conscience. The animals are natu ral and u naffected. They are not, apparently, tormented by a sense of lonely isolation in a merciless u niverse. Ou r hu man isolation is du e to ou r artificiality and hypocrisy; ou r attempts to be other than that which, Freu d tells u s, we really are. Let u s therefore forget ou r trou blesome pretensions and indu lge ou rselves in a healthy, sincere sensu ality.
Bu t can we forget? The sensu ality of the modern man is a deliberate, self-consciou s sensu ality, not a self-forgetfu l animal natu ralness. In his endeavor to be a natu ral beast he becomes an u nnatu ral man. His enjoyment of sensu ality often depen ds la rgely on th e a ttra ction possessed by forbidden things. The fru it is sweet becau se it comes from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. This is shown particu larly in the sex literatu re so volu minou s today which lives on a k n owled ge of its own d ep r a vity. Su ch a sophisticated sex interest is very different from the healthy sensu ality of the barnyard. It is accordingly no real escape from self-consciou s individu ality. Its emptiness is illu strated by the natu re of its principal mediu m, the silver screen, which depicts a civilization as sou lless and u nstable as the shadows of which the pictu res are composed. The moving picture presents, in more senses than one, a two dimensional world with no depth. In order to exist this world mu st always continu e in restless motion.
As neither hu manism nor sensu alism are aware of the tru e natu re of the social problem, they make no attempt to meet it. They are content to think of man in individual terms. There are, however, three important remedies for excessive individu alism which recognize the natu re of the problem, the first is au tocracy; the second, world denu nciation or asceticism; the third is a religiou sly integrated grou p. Let u s consider each in tu rn.
The First Solution — Autocracy
When men have lost faith in themselves they tend to seek refu ge in a strong man. The rise of dictatorships today, whether of the fascist or commu nist type, is evidence of the retreat of the individu al and his failu re of nerve. J u st as individu al pieces of matter, not u nited by an inner bond, can be held together and coordinated by force externally a pplied, s o over-in dividu a lized m en ca n be forced to cooperate by the power of the state. This is the oldest of all remedies, bu t it is always a sign of decadence. It means th a t th ere is n o livin g power wh ich ca n vita lize th e com m u n ity. Th e sou l h as fled an d a m ech an ism is left behind. Some philosophers of commu nism, as for instance J oh n Macm u rray, realize th is bu t th ey believe th at a dictatorship is a preliminary stage to organic u nity. This is probably wrong. Mechanisms produ ce mechanisms. We do not know of any case where a mechanism has produ ced life. It may be that a religiou s fire is bu rning beneath the su rface in Ru ssia, fu sing individu al elements, bu t of this we cannot speak positively as yet.
The retreat to a mechanical level is exhibited also in the recent growth of extreme nationalism. Nations are today decla rin g th eir com plete in depen den ce of ea ch oth er, economic and otherwise, and are arming to enforce it. Past history has shown that international anarchy is u su ally overcome by the dictatorship of one nation, after a career of conqu est. As there is apparently no present possibility of a Pax Romana, we mu st look either to a balance of power which sooner or later will become u nstable and resu lt in war as in 1914, or to an organic u nion of nations, su ch as is imperfectly foreshadowed in the Leagu e of Nations. Extreme in dividu a lism in n a tion s is a s in tolera ble a s extrem e individu alism in persons.4
The Second Solution — World Renunciation
The second solu tion proposed for the problem of overin dividu a lis m is ren u n cia tion . Th e in dividu a l in h is loneliness and isolation cannot contend with the forces against him and so he retreats from the vain pomp and glory of this world. As long as he is confident of su ccess in this world his religion is generally a religion of action. When, however, this confidence is lost, the pain of individu ality and inadequ acy is assu aged by complete su rrender to that which is above and beyond the world. The ascetic cru cifies the flesh that his spirit may be purified and freed from carnal bon ds. Th e solitary m ystic pu rges h im self of all th at is sensuous in order that he may achieve union with the supersensu ou s.
This solu tion was particu larly widespread at the time when the Graeco-Roman civilization was cru mbling into individual atoms. When Indian culture had reached a similar stage the Bu ddha preached one form of this method. The doctrine of reincarnation presents the Bu ddhist with a more difficu lt problem th an th at faced by th e Ch ristian . Th e Bu ddhist aims not only at annihilating his egoism in this world bu t also in the next. Su ffering and individu ality, he holds, are du e to desire. Eliminate all desire and nothing of the ego will remain which is capable of su ffering. As a candle flame dissolves in the darkness and goes ou t; as a drop of water loses itself in the ocean; so the separate soul by ceasing to exist, enters the nameless peace of Nirvana. The process by which desire is eliminated as tau ght by the Bu ddha is elaborate, bu t the end is simple. The Bu ddhist overcomes h is in dividu ality by destroyin g it. Th is m ay solve th e individu al problem bu t obviou sly it does not solve the social problem.
Th is m eth od of world ren u n ciation assu m es m an y intermediate forms. It is not the fashion today to retire to the wilderness bu t there are many who refu se to fight the battle of life becau se it no longer seems to them important. They are spectators, not participators, looking sometimes cynically, sometimes with mild amu sement at those who stru ggle to make the world better. It is good form today not to take anything very seriou sly. This world is sometimes interesting bu t generally boring. It cannot harm u s for we can always smile at it, knowing that at any moment we can tu rn the dial to a different wave length and hear another tu ne. This sense of fu tility arises becau se the individu al is alone. He has fou nd no great cau se in which he can forget himself, no grou p in which he can merge his life.
The doctrine of retirement from the world may, however, become the very essence of a healthy, normal religion. As the body mu st sometimes rest, so the spirit cannot always strive. There mu st be some area of calm into which the wearied sou l may withdraw for renewal of strength. There mu st be some qu iet time of worship when the cou rse of life is reset by pilot stars. There mu st be some pau se on the jou rney when the traveler can refresh himself at the well of eternal life. It is only when su ch a period of refreshment absorbs all things into itself that religion becomes a method of escape. The soviets called religion “an opiate of the people,” and su ch indeed it can be if its w hole emphasis is on the other world. Bu t a life which is wholly this-worldly is often like a stream which ru ns dry becau se it is not renewed by a sou rce beyond itself. The world’s great religiou s leaders and social reform ers h ave in gen eral discovered a balan ce between a this-world religion of good works and an otherworld religion of retirement from stru ggle; a retirement in which strength and insight are renewed.
The Third Solution — The Religiously Integrated Group
It is su ch a balance between world-affirmation and world-renu nciation that we discover in ou r third type of release from over-in dividu alism . Th is h as already been described as existing in the early Christian commu nity and the early Friends’ meeting. In su ch grou ps, when they live up to their highest ideal, the individual is neither suppressed by au thority nor eliminated by retirement. His individu ality is lost in that of the grou p bu t it is regained on a higher plan e. In su bm ittin g to au th ority h e falls to an in fraindividu al mechanistic level. In u niting with the spirit of the grou p he rises to a su per-individu al organic level. This word “organic” is often u sed in a pu rely biological sense. It is u sed here to designate a type of social organism made u p of persons who are bou nd together not externally by force bu t internally by love and friendship.
To a scientific mind which recognizes no categories except those of mechanistic science it is incredible that a u nified grou p can be formed of persons who respect fu lly the freedom and individu ality of one another. The answer to this paradox is not scientific bu t religiou s. The cementing force is not only the love of one another. It is also the love of God. If the members of the grou p looked only to each other th ey wou ld react again st each oth er like billiard balls, striking and rebou nding. Instead they look to that which is above them all yet in them all; they look to the Spirit which u nites from above.
Th is m eth od h as a lon g h istory. The tribe an d th e patriarchal family were largely biological u nits bu t when in dividu alism arose th ey cou ld n ot depen d wh olly on biological ties. The tribal or family religion was of su ch a character that the individu al in participating in its ritu al felt himself u nited to the whole. In the Chinese patriarchal family the shrine where the ancestors are worshiped has been the most powerfu l of family bonds. The totem of the tribe is worshiped as a symbol of an integrating life force. At a t im e wh en t h e old Gr eek d eit ies wer e n o lon ger intellectu ally accepted, Greek statesmen advocated their worship as a means of u nifying the city-state. It was the worship of J ehovah which held Israel together and made her victoriou s over her enemies. Many races and peoples look back to some golden age when the individu al fou nd freedom and joy as a member of a grou p.
Bu t this family or tribal type of religion was tied closely to the soil. Its gods were fixed in home or temple. When commercial expansion first came and men began to move freely over the earth it began to weaken. Horses, iron, larger ships, broke u p the old grou ps and gave men new power over their fellows. The rich grew richer and the poor, poorer. Throu gh the disintegrating force of commerce which mixed u p men from widely scattered places the first great age of individu alism set in — rou ghly abou t the seventh and sixth centu ries B.C. Many like Amos bewailed the good old days and pronou nced a doom on greedy merchants who exploited their brethren. Almost at the same time in widely scattered places great religiou s gen iu ses appeared offerin g th eir remedies for the decline of social forms of religion. J eremiah preached a personal religion, a new covenant written not on tables of stone bu t on the heart. In China, Confu ciu s an d Laotze; in In dia, Bu ddh a an d Mah avira; in Persia, Zoroaster; in Greece, the first philosophers and the nameless founders of the “mystery religions”; all appeared to offer some solvent for an excess of individu ality. Sin is estrangement, loneliness, separation. Salvation is a closing of the gap between the isolated life and a higher life, an atonement or at-one-ment with deity. The remedy is a redirection of will (J u d a is m ) or a m ys tic u n ion (Ta ois m , Or p h is m ) or annihilation of self (Bu ddhism) or social adju stment throu gh decoru m (Confu cianism).
These methods of aiding the isolated hu man atom, either to endu re existence or to dispose of it, have met the needs of many millions of persons, bu t it is dou btfu l whether any of them will widely appeal to the occidental world of the twentieth centu ry. Nor can we go back to the tribe, the patriarchal family, or the small city-state. There is, however, one remedy which fu lly meets the difficu lty and which is consistent with modern life and modern conceptions of the world . Th is is th e religiou s ly in tegra ted com m u n ity comparable to that which existed in early Christianity and early Qu akerism.
It m a y well be a sked — wh y in sert th e a djective “religiou s”? Are th ere n ot arou n d u s a vast n u m ber of associations of all sorts in which the modern individu al in some measu re overcomes his isolation; su ch associations a s clu bs , lodges , politica l pa rties , tra de u n ion s , a n d orga n iza tion s for th e a dva n cem en t or elim in a tion of everything conceivable? These, however, are held together by what might be called a horizontal relation between man and man. Those who have common interests find cooperation and mu tu al adju stment of individu al desires essential to success. Such associations range all the way from a business corporation organized throu gh a system of au thoritative control, to a discu ssion grou p interested only in a search for truth. These associations may contain religiously-minded individu als bu t, with some possible exceptions, they are not religiou sly integrated.
In r eligiou s wor s h ip t h e h or izon t a l b on d s a r e su pplemented by vertical bonds leading u p to a higher Being wh o u n ites m en by drawin g th em all to Him self. Th e integration is on a higher level. When J esu s said, “Wherever two or three are gathered together in my name there am I in the midst of them,” he did not mean that he wou ld come as one individu al among other individu als. His Spirit inclu des bu t transcends each individu al. “I am the vine, ye are the branches.” “I, if I be lifted u p, will draw all men u nto me.” Men can be u nited by all falling into the same pit or they can be u nited by climbing by variou s paths to the same mou ntain top. A lynching mob is obviou sly integrated on a lower level than a religiou s meeting held in the spirit of Christ.
An u pward striving toward a higher world can, u nder certain conditions, create the strongest hu man bonds within the world. This is the fu ndamental paradox of religion which resists all attempts at rationalization becau se it is creative of the new and u npredictable. Social progress is a child both of this world and of a higher world. Each world is sterile withou t the other. The other-worldly person seeks only for a flight from this “vale of tears” to a haven of peace and secu rity; the this-worldly person ignores the “su pernatu ral”5 as mere “wish fu lfillment,” a means of escape for those u nfit for life’s stru ggle. Yet th e h istory of m a n kin d sh ows, especially in the great creative periods, that it is only the fertile u nion of both worlds which can bring abou t a new birth of a higher level of existence.
Protestantism has failed to bring abou t su ch a u nion becau se, by its very natu re, it seems doomed to be onesided. For a long tim e it condem ned this world as evil, teaching a pu rely individu al salvation throu gh faith in Book, creed, sermon, and ritu al. Now it is either swinging toward fundamentalism, which revives the old exclusive dependence on the su pernatu ral and transcendent, or it is preaching a social gospel devoid of characteristically religiou s elements. One difficu lty is that Protestantism has evolved no religiou s method nor theory for fu sing the two.
Catholicism effected a practical synthesis of natu re and su pernatu re nearly a thou sand years ago which satisfied the mind of the Middle Ages but it carries into the present so much obsolete baggage that it cannot lead in social or theoretical advance. In early J u daism, as described in the Old Testament, the conception of a Holy Commu nity integrated by a common worship of J ehovah was developed by the prophets and in large measure actu alized. This Holy Commu nity was the parent of the Christian Chu rch. In modern J u daism, scattered abou t as it is over the face of the earth, there is little opportu nity to revive this ancient order.
Quakerism And The Ideal Community
Qu akerism combines in religiou s worship two elements wh ich are u su ally con sidered in com patible, a m ystical approach to God and a social relation to ou r fellows. The lonely mystic knows only the vertical relation to God, the “social gospeler” too often only the horizontal relation to man, bu t grou p mysticism takes accou nt of both God and man. In the group we find that we need our fellow worshipers in the search for God and we need God in the search for ou r fellows. Each search leads into the other. In the silence of living worship we strive to create a sensitivity to the Divine presence by removing selfish, individu al desires. We find th at th e partition wh ich separates God an d m an also separates man and man. Or we may first reach ou t in love toward ou r fellows in an endeavor to u nderstand them and the conflicts and problems which trouble them; and suddenly some window of the sou l opens and the breath of a diviner air comes in. Once more the Spirit which has brooded over chaos from the beginning has spoken the creative Word and chaotic hu man atoms are reborn into the u nity of a higher life. “We know that we have passed ou t of death into life becau se we love the brethren.” (I J ohn 3:14.)
Th e word s “on e a n oth er” occu r with s u rp ris in g frequ ency in the early Friends’ writings. Fox in his letters often identifies the tie which u nites the worshipers to God with the tie which u nites them to each other. “Mind,” he says, “that which is pu re in one another which joins you together”; “therefore, all Friends, obey that which is pu re within you and know one another in that which brings you to wait on the Lord”; “Friends, meet together and know one another in that which is eternal which was before the world was,” “feel the power of God in one another,” “that all may be as one family bu ilding u p one another and helping one another.”6 Penn, in his preface to Fox’s J ou rnal, speaks of the early Friends as “treating one another as those that believed and felt God present.”
The group that has thus found God has solved the social problem within itself. None of its members henceforth face the world alone as individuals. The ties which bind it together are not easily broken by material or economic forces. It cannot ignore the needs of any of its members. Bu t it is not a Noah’s ark bu ilt to save a few from a drowning world. Experience proves that there is always generated an overplu s of spiritu al power which seeks ou tlet in a larger field. If there is no going ou t from the grou p to transform the world into a greater Holy Community then the group is either dead, or it is a plant-like existence. If the grou p is to resemble the highest type of living things it mu st, like them, modify its environment. An inner sense of peace, security, and spiritual power is attained in grou p worship bu t it is not henceforth con fin ed to an y particu lar place or tim e. Each m em ber carries it abou t in his heart wherever he goes and acts accordingly. He becomes an apostle of a new social order patterned after the type of procedu re which created a living u nity in his own more limited grou p.
This type of social order is based not on the tyranny of an individu al or a majority of individu als who u se violence or threat of violence to enforce their wishes. Differences are adju sted by a process of integration in which no individu al is su bmerged bu t in which every viewpoint takes some place or exerts some influ ence in the final achievement. The way to bring abou t a new social order like this is to achieve it first in one’s heart and in the religiou s grou p to which one belongs and then to live in it wherever one may be. It will th en be arou sed in th e h earts of oth ers an d grow by contagion. Su ch a method involves seriou s risk to those who u ndertake it for a person living in this kind of a social order becomes su bject to the violence of those not in it. Nevertheless this method of ventu re and sacrifice is the one m eth od by wh ich th e kin gdom of God propagates an d reprodu ces itself.
Quakerism at its best presents this answer to the Social Problem. It is not a plan based on (though it does not exclude) economic or political theories, bu t a social dynamic arising ou t of a certain type of u nifying experience. The history of th e Society of Frien ds gives am ple eviden ce th at th is experience is intimately bou nd u p, both as cau se and effect, with social reforms of a practical and far-reaching character.7 But the general application of the Quaker method has hardly begu n . Th ere are large areas of con flict, particu larly in indu stry, which await pioneers of social progress.
There are some reasons why the present age may be more favorable to the Qu aker religiou s and social method than the seventeenth centu ry when the Society of Friends arose. In the seventeenth centu ry, as we have already seen, the man of western Eu rope was ju st emerging from the con trol of a n old cu ltu re a n d a cqu irin g a n u n lim ited con fid en ce in h im s elf. A n ew con tin en t a wa ited h is exploitation and a new science was ready to fu rnish him with the means to exploit it. Newton was a contemporary of Fox bu t Newton increased while Fox decreased. As science developed, man’s faith in his ability to control his destiny grew and faith in a religion which looked to the su perhu man for help correspondingly lessened. The Society of Friends retired into a shell of rigid discipline in order to preserve the pattern of life it had developed. Bu t in the last few years the direction of the cu rrent has changed. Hu manism, a moment ago everywhere triu m phant, stands baffled and withou t resou rces before a cru mbling social order. Man is losing confidence in the power of science to save him. What is even more significant and prophetic, the greatest scientists of today have tu rned to philosophy and have discovered that the older mechanistic conceptions describe only a shadow world. The deeper reality, they say, is organic and its natu re is revealed not throu gh balance or measu ring rod bu t by the mystic vision.
An age of collectivism of som e sort is apparen tly dawning. The central qu estion is — will it be a collectivism based on external au thority to meet a pu rely economic or political need, or will it be a “culture” — that is, a collectivism based on Spirit which gu ides men from within. If the second alternative is the hoped-for answer we mu st realize that it can come abou t, not throu gh some su dden revolu tion bu t only throu gh a long, slow process of growth. Becau se the Kingdom of Heaven is an organism and not a mechanical collectivism J esu s compared it to a tree which begins in a very small seed. Like a tree, it cannot grow if it is cu t off either from the Light of Heaven above or from the dark earth beneath.
That the case is far from hopeless can be shown by a com parison of th e presen t tim e with th e tim e in wh ich Christianity arose. There is the same excess of individu alism and a corresponding effort to establish a collectivism based on au thority. There is the same failu re of nerve, the same cynicism, skepticism, and stoic apathy, the same sense of fu tility in the face of blind economic and political forces. No wonder that to many men of the first centu ry the situ ation seemed hopeless and the only remedy a su dden revolu tion and the coming of the Messiah from the clou ds of heaven. No wonder that to many men today a bloody revolution seems the only remedy. Bu t the early Christians did not wait for revolu tion. They set u p the new social order in their own religiou s commu nities. These commu nities were the seeds of the kingdom. The Chu rch became the kingdom of God on earth, very imperfect of cou rse, bu t a living entity throu gh which men were raised u p to a higher and a more than individu al life. That the Chu rch later compromised with the state and adopted some of its methods does not detract from its great ach ievem en t in offerin g a real solu tion to th e problem of excessive individu alism. The hope of bu ilding u p a social order in which the Sermon on the Mou nt wou ld be accepted for what it obviou sly means was never given u p. In the monastery a sincere bu t abortive effort was made to avoid compromise with the world and to create spiritu al and economic interdependence in a religiou sly integrated commu nity.
The world today awaits that individu al or grou p which can minister to its needs in the same way in which the early Christian commu nities administered to the needs of their tim e. Th e rem edy for social disin tegration is n ot m ore centralized au thority which sooner or later is destroyed by the very forces which it sets in motion. Nor is it a retreat to a monastery, nor to an attitu de of indifference, nor to a pu rely other-world mysticism. We mu st have a kind of social cement which binds from within so that the u nity formed is not mechanical bu t living. Where can we get it except from th e sou rce wh en ce it h as always com e from , a type of religiou s experience which at once creates and is created by an organic social order? In this task we can take only one step at a time. Mechanical things can be made qu ickly bu t living things grow slowly. We are at least able to bu ild u p small bits of the kingdom here and there wherever a grou p of persons become u nited and lifted u p by the “Presence in the midst.” If these grou ps are living they will increase and mu ltiply for reprodu ction is the law of all life. It is essential that we help bind u p the broken wou nds of the world. It is even more important that we at once set abou t bu ilding u p a world in which these wou nds shall not occu r.
“Christianity,” says Heiler in The Spirit of Worship, “is weary of individu alism which weakens and divides; it is striving to escape from the narrow bondage of the su bjective into the wide freedom of the objective, the Universal; from the limitations of the isolated individu al to the fu llness of strength of the great Commu nity.” Many are the seekers searching for su ch fu llness of strength. They will find it in an u preaching self-forgetfu l mind which u nites and creates; in a mystical insight which senses both the u pward pu ll of Divine power and the frail tendrils of lonely hu man lives reaching ou t for su pport; in a sacrament which is at once commu nion with God and with man. This was the earliest hu man search. It will also be the last.
The Fundamental Christian Doctrine
Can th ere be a social salvation wh ich ign ores th e Christian doctrine of the atonement? To many persons today this is not an important qu estion, bu t its consideration brings to bear on ou r central problem some interesting and significant facts. The individu alistic interpretation of the atonement, as set forth in most Protestant creeds, can help u s bu t little. Bu t primitive Christianity, as we have already seen , did n ot pu t its cen tra l em ph a sis on in dividu a l salvation. It brou ght a social gospel to meet a social need.
In the history of ou r religion we find many attempts to express in symbols the natu re of that living power which holds society together from within. The early Christians symbolized it in the love feast eaten together in memory of the Last Su pper. In the first accou nt of the Last Su pper to be written (I Cor. 11), J esu s takes the cu p and says “This cu p is the new covenant in my blood.” These words mean little to u s today bu t to the men who first heard them they were fraught with profound significance. Perhaps their minds went back to the old covenant which was made between J ehovah and Israel at Mt. Sinai. Here a contract was sealed according to which the people of Israel formally adopted J ehovah as their God and promised to serve only Him and
He, in tu rn, promised to aid and protect them. The Old Testament, taking its name from this contract, was written to sh ow th at J eh ovah h ad always kept His part of th e bargain, bu t Israel had been u nfaithfu l many times and had su ffered in consequ ence. Moses sealed the contract by an impressive ritu al (Exod. XXIV). The people stand before God who is represented by an altar. Victims are sacrificed an d th eir blood pou red in to bowls. Half of the blood is sprinkled over the altar. Moses then reads the terms of the agreement and the people say, “All that the Lord hath spoken will we do and be obedient.” The remainder of the blood is then sprinkled over the people, with the words “behold the blood of the covenant.”
Th is ritu al h ad a sign ifican t m ean in g. Th e blood represented “life” (Lev. XVII: 11,14). Two parties formerly independent of each other are u nited into a single living whole becau se each is made to share in the same blood, that is, in the same vital essence. To accomplish this it is necessary that the life of a third party be sacrificed in order that its life, being shared in by the other two, might u nite th em in to a sin gle life. Before th e coven an t was sealed J eh ovah an d Israel were m erely con tigu ou s. After th e covenant they were u nited by a living bond, a third life, in which both shared.
What more natu ral than that J esu s, knowing that his own life wou ld be sacrificed on the morrow, shou ld think of his blood as the “blood of the new covenant” creating like the blood of the old covenant a living bond between man and God. His life was to become that third thing, bridging the gap between the divine and hu man, thu s overcoming that isolation of the individu al, the estrangement, which is called “sin.” This is “atonement,” the central doctrine of the Christian religion.
Thou gh the symbols by which religion speaks change from age to age, old tru ths remain. It is in that inner bond of u nity between man and God which Moses and J esu s symbolized by “blood” that we mu st seek the power of social salvation. In the early Chu rch J esu s saved the individu al becau se it was His Spirit which was the sou l of the Christian com m u n ity, an d it was in an d th rou gh th e Ch ristian commu nity that the individu al was saved from insu fficiency and isolation. Among the early Qu akers it was the “Christ within,” who was the Spirit not only within the individu al bu t also within the grou p as a living whole who bridged the gap between the separate individu al and a larger whole of life. In the religiou sly integrated commu nity the individu al finds his problem solved for he is no longer alone. He has fou nd man and God, each throu gh the other.
“But now in Christ Jesus ye that once were far off are made nigh in the blood of Christ. For he is ou r peace who hath made both one, and broken down the middle wall of partition” (Eph. 11: 13,14).
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Notes
1. See Barclay’s “Inner Life of the Religious Societies of the Com m onw ealth,” pp. 375-377. Barclay, the Quaker Apologist, defines the “Love Feast” as “to eat and drink together in the dread and presence of the Lord as His people w hich custom w e shall not condemn.”
2. In early Christianity the new found liberty from the law of Moses gave rise to the same problem. Pau l twice warns the Corinthians that “All things are lawfu l; bu t all things are not expedient.” (I Cor. 6:12; 10:23.)
3. Such, for instance, as W. S. Elliott, “The Process of Group Thinking.”
4. It is interesting to notice in this connection that the Cou ncil of the Leagu e of Nations arrives at its decisions mu ch after the manner of a Qu aker meeting. As one objection will, in mu st cases, make action impossible, it is u seless to take a vote and so conclu sions are arrived at by general assent.
5. Such words as “supernatural” and “other worldly” are u nfortu nate inheritances from an age when “hu man” and “divine” were considered as distinct and separate as oil and water. A life which is qu alitatively higher is no more “u nnatu ral” nor “miracu lou s” than the lower.
6. These quotations are taken from Brayshaw, “The Quakers,” page 99.
7. Such as religious liberty, peace, the abolition of slavery, temperance, prison reform, the care of the insane, etc.
Last update: 09/ 29/ 04
