“Doubtless there were many in those days [of the remote past] who ran about shrieking woes and generating them as they ran,” Douglas says; “and others foolishly whispering ‘Peace, peace,’ when there was no peace, as they and everybody else well knew. We do not hear much about them, the panic-driven, the fear-lashed, self-deceived — history has forgotten that they lived.
“But it holds in fond remembrance the outstanding deeds of a few men and women, of each perilous hour in human annals, who walked serenely, confidently, fearlessly in the midst of grave distresses and disasters.”
And here’s the controversial part: “I do not know that Daniel needs to be found alive in the morning with the lions. They who collected the fragments of his story and wrought a mosaic of it, centuries after, thought it better so, for they were temperamentally opposed to the idea of having a hero eaten in the last chapter.”
A little later he continues this thought: “I do not know whether Daniel spent a night unhurt among the lions or not. Maybe so! Stranger things have happened right before our own eyes. Maybe not! Probably not! But history gives us a Daniel nevertheless, who was quite capable of saying to King Darius that, rather than move his wheel one point nor’-nor’-east of the course he had laid, he would go to the lions — come what may!”
Why would a preacher of the gospel consider it possible — even “probable” — that Daniel was eaten by the lions? Because he’s encouraging his congregation to do what’s right even if they must face dire consequences; and Douglas thought that biblical miracles like Daniel’s made modern believers unwilling to face such consequences. Douglas thought that, sometimes, it was more important to take a heroic stand and lose than to expect God to deliver us from all harm.
“Of course,” he said, “there is a glamor of myth enhaloing these… figures whose names have been cut indelibly on the monuments to heroism” even though, “in their own generations,” they were “very much as we ourselves are. Doubtless the epic poems which pay them homage are subject to heavy discount; and the legends which recite their adventures are more ornamental than serviceable; but down underneath the rhetorical palms and laurels, there was once a vital fact, a dynamic force that motivated a life so effectively the world was unable to forget.”
This was the thing Douglas wanted his congregation to find: this motivation that would see them through hard times. It could be found, he thought, in the teachings of Jesus. But in order for his people to get to it, Douglas felt it was necessary to acknowledge that the age-old reliance on miraculous deliverance would not help them in their hour of need.
“It has been our open boast that we are a forward-looking people. That is well for us. For we have come into new times, not precisely such times as we predicted who, a year ago, forecast a new heaven and a new earth as a reward for our experiences, but undeniably new times, distinguished by unusual conditions in the whole social order.”
His opening sentence refers to his own parishioners (the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor). The phrase “new times” refers to the fact that the First World War had ended the previous year, and there were still a lot of loose ends to tie up.
Douglas explains: “America in particular grapples with a group of problems which, while they have undoubtedly been in the making for some time, only now begin to stand forth in high relief against a restless, shifting background…” Because this shifting background “formerly constituted all that was normal and supposedly permanent in life,” this new set of problems are “challenging us either to solve them with promptness and firmness or crumple up under them.”
The conditions he’s describing would set the stage for the Second World War. A lot of people were smart enough to see that, but that doesn’t mean they knew what to do about it.
If you feel like we’re going through difficult times now, you may be interested in Douglas’s advice. He didn’t know what was coming, but he had sensible thoughts about it all.
“Somewhere,” he says, “there is a solvent of the vexing problem – that much is sure.”
Really? We may not think so, but he did, because he believed that God was ultimately in charge.
“He who has ordered the destinies of the race,” continues Douglas, “knows the way out of this trouble…. And until that sure answer to our present need has been proposed and recognized as the right exodus from our difficulties, it will be well for us to practice a mental poise. For however we are to help in reducing our social and economic chaos to normal order, it is reasonably certain we shall not be of much assistance while in a state of stampede or nervous panic.
“Without presaging any more gloom than is good for us to anticipate, let us not any longer try to deceive ourselves about the current conditions in American life – a social fabric badly rent, barely able to stand the strain of the loom – a warp too heavily mixed with easy riches, quickly won; a woof of accumulated discontent due to hard knocks and memorable injustices. Let us not minify in our own minds… the obvious deduction that we are entering upon a period in our American development which is to test our patience, assay our courage, and try our faith.
“Not knowing what to pray for today, perhaps we will do well to pray for steadiness…”
That was one of Douglas’s main themes: poise. I’ve talked about this in a previous post. He believed that one of the primary benefits of Christian life was that it would stabilize us, allowing us to navigate rough seas without capsizing.
In the rest of this sermon, Douglas would tell the story of Nehemiah rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem after the Babylonian Captivity. But this opening section is significant because it shows how he perceived the social and political conditions of his time, and that, even then, he was prescribing the very things that Dean Harcourt would illustrate in his novel Green Light: stability and poise.
He’s talking about the Rich Young Ruler who came to Jesus and asked what he might do “to make his name forever deathless.” In Douglas’s words, Jesus told him that
…if he wanted to immortalize himself, let him consecrate his fortune to the uplift of his downtrodden countrymen, and then follow. He thought it over and decided that he couldn’t do it. It would have made a great story, if he had done it.
Francis of Assisi did it, and his name will be familiar to the chisels of sculptors, and his face will be a model for artists, and his sacrifice a theme for inspirational poets, long after most of the kings’ names have been forgotten.
His wealthy and princely father cautioned him against his rash deed. Perhaps you remember his father’s name. I don’t.
In this sermon he had his congregation imagine a pearl that had special powers (just like Christ’s garment would do in Douglas’s novel, The Robe). Those powers were the kinds of things that the Holy Spirit would do in the life of anyone who followed Jesus, but Douglas helped his congregation to see its effects more vividly by imagining them as properties of an object (in this case, a Super Pearl). As I mentioned in the previous post, this was similar to the plot devices Douglas would use later in his bestselling novels.
But he also anticipated his novels in another way: by imagining the main character (in this case, the Pearl Merchant) raising objections (the very ones that his listeners might be thinking of) and seriously considering them. In this sermon, and in his future novels, Douglas would seek common ground with his listeners (and later his readers), then explain why he thought those objections could be overcome. In this sermon, the Pearl Merchant wants the Super Pearl with its special powers, but the seller’s price is unbelievably high: he insists on the Merchant’s entire pearl collection.
Again, Douglas uses his imagination, but this time he does it in order to lead his listeners through the merchant’s thought process:
“I think I see this man deciding that he absolutely can’t make the trade – for several reasons. He had come to be very fond of hearing himself called a ‘skeptic.’ If he acquired the wonderful pearl, he would have to leave off all his bumptious sophistries and confess to his old friends that he had really come to a decision about a few things, and that he had turned in his stock of doubts for a serene and simple-hearted faith.
“That would be very difficult. I doubt not many a man has gone through life fairly bracing himself against the tug of his own spirit, just because he enjoyed the sensation of having certain solicitous friends and relatives worrying over his soul’s salvation. He fears that once he relieves them of this anxiety, they will lose all interest in him.
“And he may have good cause to think so. The sheep that is out in the dark, fast in a barbed-wire fence, is always a great deal more interesting than the sheep calmly ruminating in the fold. You may recall how the elder brother of the Prodigal felt on that point. Not once had they declared a holiday in his honor; but when this scapegrace tatterdemalion comes home, the whole place is upset. Nor can the Prodigal expect that the general stir caused by his return is going to last forever. After a while, he will become a familiar figure, and people will either forget him, or he will have to distinguish himself for something else besides his erstwhile profligacy.
“The pearl-trader knew all this. And he disliked to give up his ‘Agnostic pearl.’ Moreover, he had grown fond of hearing himself described as a just man. ‘Ah, yes,’ they would say, ‘he’s fair, but a mighty hard customer when it comes to transgressions. Let his enemies look out for themselves. A loyal friend, but a firm and uncompromising judge.’
He hesitated to have any man say, ‘What’s come over the pearl-trader? Getting soft, I should say.’ He hesitated, too, before the idea of loosening up some of his static wealth. It was a satisfaction just to own property. He knew he would be much more interesting to the public as a man of riches than as a philanthropist. Some of his friends would think him foolish.
“I can see him confiding his dilemma to a trusted friend, and I can hear that friend saying, ‘If you don’t want to exchange your entire stock of pearls for this one jewel, why not bargain for a part of it? Let the owner cut it, as he would a diamond.’
“‘No, my friend,’ responds the pearl-trader sadly. ‘One does not cut pearls. I must take it or leave it, just as it stands.'”
What Douglas does in this sermon is the very thing he will do again and again in his novels: he will lead his readers through the main character’s thought process, acknowledging his readers’ objections but showing why the main character decides, ultimately, to do the audacious thing he’s been contemplating. Here is how the sermon ends:
“And so, at length, [the pearl-merchant] carried his precious pearls to the city and spread them out upon a table and received in exchange this most beautiful and wonderful pearl in all the world. No longer did he wander about in quest of goodly pearls, now that he had found the best.
“It is after this manner, said Jesus, that the Kingdom of Heaven is realized in the heart of an individual. For the Kingdom of Heaven is like unto a merchant seeking goodly pearls who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.
“Which is another way of saying that the Kingdom of Heaven is no easy thing to gain; but that, when a man has the calm discernment to realize its value, he will give up everything in this world to possess it, as they who have known its peace and happiness have testified for ages, by the splendor of their faith and the immortality of their ever-shining deeds.”
He imagined the Pearl Merchant having in his collection a pearl from Athens (his Agnostic pearl), another from Rome (the Justice pearl), and another from Alexandria (his Prosperity pearl) – all of them representing attitudes that were probably prevalent among the people in Douglas’s church.
Still using the imagination for which he would later become famous, Douglas described the merchant coming upon a “Super Pearl” that outshone any of the others in his collection. As Douglas says, the merchant “learned that whoever possessed this remarkable jewel would inevitably be strangely influenced by it. First of all, the wearer of this pearl would find his mind set at rest about the inexplicable mysteries of life. He would become invested with a simple, trustful, childlike faith in the reality of an unseen power leading him on by paths which he had previously found hard, but now quite easy to travel. In the presence of these mysterious forces, he would find himself saying, ‘I am persuaded. No; I cannot explain, but I am persuaded!’
“Again, this super-pearl, while it permitted its wearer to deal justly, forever urged him to interpret Justice with Charity, and temper Justice with Mercy. The ‘quid pro quo’ would fail any longer to satisfy the demands of him who wore this pearl. His measure would henceforth be heaped up, pressed down, and running over. His judgments would henceforth be warped in favor of the defendant. He would forgive and forbear and entreat, where previously he had balanced the scales in a spirit of absolute justice, regardless of the circumstances.
“And again, this pearl had the peculiar quality of making its owner ashamed of riches unless they were working for the common good. No man could wear this pearl and pile up wealth for the sake of satisfying his own love of ease. He might be rich, but the riches must not rust. He might be learned, but the learning would have to function, somehow, in the interest of human happiness. He might be famous, but he would have to find and rest his fame on the value of his investment… in the life of the race.”
Do you see what Douglas is doing? He’s anticipating the kind of thing he will do later in The Robe: he’s taking a physical object and asking his listeners to imagine that it produces the kinds of results that are normally produced by the Holy Spirit. He will also do something like this in Magnificent Obsession and Forgive Us Our Trespasses, although in those novels he will treat certain passages of scripture as though they have magical qualities. In all of these cases, he will base entire novels on the insight he’s developing here in this sermon: that people in the modern secular world are much more likely to understand what the Holy Spirit can do in their lives if they are asked to imagine an object endowed with magical properties. To modern sensibilities, that makes more sense, because people can imagine this magical object doing something in their lives, whereas the Holy Spirit’s work requires their cooperation, and they may not want to cooperate. Douglas is saying to his people: “Let’s play a game. Let’s imagine a ‘Super Pearl’ that can change your life. All you have to do is wear it.”
Part of Douglas’s genius was his ability to demonstrate, in very specific ways, how this magical pearl would improve their lives. For the skeptics in his audience, he described how the Spirit gives us a sort of “inner knowing”; it’s not about proving anything but about having a peace and confidence that aren’t based on proof. For the “Justice Only” people in the crowd, he tries to show that “Justice Tempered with Mercy” will lead to a more satisfying moral code. For the “Prosperity” people in his congregation, he argues that the real adventure is not only to acquire wealth but to do it in a way that benefits others.
It is, of course, quite possible for Douglas’s listeners to reject what he’s saying. But again, he uses his imagination to disarm them; and again, he anticipates a method that he will use quite effectively in his novels. I’ll tell you about that in my next post.
The phrase I’m talking about was: “If we may be permitted to lend our imagination wings…”
His biblical text was Matthew 13:45-46, which says, “The kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant seeking goodly pearls; who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”
There doesn’t seem to be much meat in that short passage, but Douglas used his imagination to make more out of it. From a strictly exegetical point of view, one may argue that he should stick to the text; but from a biographical point of view, the fact that he indulged his imagination on this occasion is significant. And, unlike the average pastor, Douglas’s imagination always produced interesting results.
He says of the pearl trader: “If we may be permitted to lend our imagination wings, we may venture a guess that he… picked up one of his treasured pearls in Athens, the traditional seat of learning. Perhaps he called it his ‘Agnostic’ pearl. It had a special value for him. It stood for a neutral-tinted, convictionless attitude of mind, forever in quest of truth and never satisfied with its booty; forever asking for evidence, cross-examining witnesses and demanding testimony – and never reaching a verdict.
“Sometimes his heart proposed that he take a definite stand for something; espouse a cause and see it through; join hands with a movement and put it over; announce discipleship to some Master and follow him; but always he remembered the Agnostic pearl and remained non-committal. ‘Skeptic,’ his friends called him, and the word was not an epithet but a badge of merit, to his mind. He liked to be called ‘free-thinker.’ I suppose that of all the pearls he had, the merchant loved this one best.”
A lot of people in the church that day could probably empathize with this position – especially freshmen. Douglas continued:
“But not much less ardently did he rejoice in the possession of the flawless pearl he had bought in Rome, the headquarters of jurisprudence. Whatever qualms of conscience the Agnostic pearl aroused in him, this Roman stone, which he called the Justice pearl, stirred him to a self-righteous pride. For Justice was an undeniably fine attribute for any man to possess.
“Sometimes his heart suggested that he waive aside the claims of inexorable justice and invest something in behalf of human woe and wretchedness – even if that misery had but little to justify it. Sometimes he would have been glad to do something, out of the charity of his heart, for a weaker fellow; but always he remembered the Justice pearl. Every man should have exactly his due from him, and no more. Mercy was enervating. Mercy was always wearing its heart on its sleeve and getting itself taken in by imposters. No; Justice would do for him.”
Personnel from the administrative side of the University of Michigan were there that morning, and perhaps they felt the same way. Douglas continued:
“And then there was that most showy pearl of the lot, the one he had found in Alexandria, the home of riches and commercial prosperity. As he rubbed his sensitive thumb delicately over its satin surface, he glowed with satisfaction over its ownership. Just carrying it had brought him wealth. After all, honor and influence were not far away from the man who had amassed much property. It was ever so. Poverty, even voluntarily embraced in the interest of a great cause was nevertheless a serious handicap. Not for any consideration would he part from this jewel which he knew as his Prosperity pearl.”
Members of the Ann Arbor business community were members of the church, including prominent business leaders. Perhaps they could relate to this attitude. Douglas continued:
“But with all his goodly pearls he was not content, but still sought others. He appears to have had a haunting suspicion that somewhere there was a valuable pearl to which he had not yet gained access. I daresay he felt it would be a great pity to have gone through life, bent upon the exclusive business of finding the most valuable pearls, and then discover, perhaps when it was quite too late to achieve it, that the most wonderful pearl in the whole world was not his – could never be his – that he had not even seen it, much less owned it.
“It is this gnawing unrest that brings many of us toward the day of silvering hair and faltering footsteps, fearful that, after all, try as we might to live purposefully, we had somehow missed the very best things – maybe passed them, unnoticed, along the way; maybe tossed them aside, as of no account, in our ignorance of their value. Indeed, the man of fifty sometimes reflects that he remembers the day when he passed a great opportunity to possess something of inestimable worth; and if he might set his life back as easily as we set back our clocks last night [for the fall time-change], he would surely want to go back to that crucial hour and live it again.
“I do not know just how much this pearl-merchant worried lest he was rejoicing in the possession of some second-rate jewels when he was seeking the very best; but I do know that when the Master introduces him to us, he is still seeking pearls, goodly pearls. Still touring about from country to country, by ship and caravan, seeking better pearls than these he owned. It doesn’t look as if he was entirely contented.
“You will find them all along the way, many of them people you have envied for their conspicuous positions, their learning, their culture, their wealth – you will find them, like the pearl-merchant, still in quest of something better than they possess. Restless souls, whose very quest proclaims their dissatisfaction with their accretions.”
We know, of course, that the Pearl Merchant is going to find that one pearl that will outshine the others. But Douglas indulges his imagination in other ways, and what he does next is very interesting. I’ll tell about it in my next post.
On October 19, 1919, Lloyd C. Douglas was speaking at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on the subject of “The Conservation of Moral Leadership,” and for a brief moment in that sermon he touched on the question, “Is Christianity Opposed to the Theory of Evolution?”
Lloyd Douglas was never one to shy away from controversial topics if he felt they needed to be addressed. He wouldn’t argue with people, but he would state his opinion boldly.
In this sermon, Douglas says, “Christian philosophy – if we may deal with its elemental propositions – makes no effort to account for the exact process by which mankind came into existence. The old Hebrew religion, out of which Christianity emerged under the leadership of the young Jewish Nazarene, did account for the creation of man on the ground of a miracle. There was a collection of these creation legends which were pieced together and assumed a fairly definitive narrative, with only minor discrepancies. Jesus knew this Hebrew creation story, for it was taught Him as a child. It was presented to Him as a fundamental doctrine which, to disbelieve, made one an infidel.
“If Jesus believed it at all, He did not consider it an important matter. If He had considered it important, He would have said so. The only fact about man’s creation worth noting was the fact that he had been created, undeniably for a high purpose. Nothing else about his creation mattered.
“Whether God is to bring the human race up, through ages of discipline, by a process of patient evolution or is to create him as he is now, by divine fiat, is a non-essential.
“The ancients who tried to explain the process were doubtless seeking an easy way for God to do it – the way they might have attempted to do it, had they been God.
“The indisputable fact is that nobody knows, or has ever known, the process by which God dignified one genus of the animal order to the point of endowing it with spiritual gifts and graces. It is a practically sure venture that the early Hebrews did not know, who believed the earth to be the center of the universe, around which the sun revolved.”
Although Douglas was a Christian minister, he did not think it was necessary to defend the Old Testament or even to believe in its teachings. He didn’t even think it was necessary to believe everything in the New Testament. He considered the Bible a library of books in which the writers did their best to make sense out of life and grappled especially with the idea of God and their relationship to God. For Douglas, to follow Jesus meant to do the things Jesus taught. In that sense, he was a minimalist: nothing else in the Bible mattered as much as the things Jesus said.
To be a Christ-follower, in Douglas’s opinion, did not require a person to believe that God made the sun stand still at Joshua’s command, nor did it require him to believe that the earth and its inhabitants were created just as described in the first two chapters of Genesis. He thought Christians should not tell scientists how to do their job, for there was nothing in the teachings of Jesus that disagreed with the theory of evolution. Douglas recognized no fundamental difference between the teachings of Jesus and the theory of evolution, despite the fact that there were plenty of Christian ministers saying otherwise.
Of course, we don’t have any other way of talking about God other than by using words; but Douglas was pointing out the error of confusing our verbal descriptions with The Thing Itself.
For example: “…the phrase ‘a personal God’ has been an unhappy combination of words in the mouths of people who couldn’t conceive of a person without instantly ascribing to that person such qualities as pertain to human personality. Thus the opinion found its origin that God is a tremendously great and powerful man-type.
“The authors of our most noted church confessions indulged themselves in the use of alarmingly big words which purported to magnify, but in reality only restricted and minimized, the Being they intended to laud. The more they defined Him, the more they sheared Him of power. Every time a new crop of dogmatists tried their hands at informing the world all about God, He lost ground in the opinion of people who didn’t want to trust to any superman, however super, to direct the affairs of the universe.”
But it was not so of Jesus, Douglas says. “There is a noticeable absence of ponderous phraseology in the Author of Christianity’s statements about God. To the mind of the Galilean, God was not to be encompassed by learned dissertations, but was only to be accepted as a fact, just as little children accept a fact which they do not comprehend. Of just one quality of God was Jesus sure. God was the Father of all men. He had not created the human race to serve a whim. And, as the Father of the race, He surely had not engendered it to hate it or neglect it, but to love and preserve it. This was a simple deduction, simply phrased. The dogmatists who have tried to improve upon it have failed.
“‘God is a Spirit,’ said Jesus. ‘They that worship Him, must worship Him in spirit’….
“Mankind is… a spiritual being, instinctively trying to relate his life to an intelligence beyond and without the province of temporal things. Christian philosophy simply falls back upon the childlike belief that God is the Father of us all…”
This view would lead Douglas throughout his life to minimize the importance of religious creeds. As he saw it, the task wasn’t to try to understand or explain God; it was to make contact with God. And for that reason, he also thought that Christians shouldn’t meddle in scientific explanations of the natural world and how it came to be. I’ll tell you more about that in my next post.
The title page of “The Conservation of Moral Leadership,” Sermons [4], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. Copyright University of Michigan.
The date is October 19, 1919. Lloyd C. Douglas is preaching at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor, addressing the question, “what elements are really essential to the building of a faith, at once fearless in its appeal to the intellect and satisfying in its answer to the instinctive demands of the emotions”? He’s speaking to a congregation partly made up of university people (students, grad students, professors, and administrators), but also made up of people from the town, including some of the principal businessmen. They have chosen him as their pastor because they agree with what he’s trying to do: preach a gospel that appeals to the mind just as much to the emotions.
The rhetorical question he’s asking today is: What are the basic elements of such a gospel?
“In the first place,” he says, “the Christian religion grounds its life on the conviction that the universe is neither an accident nor the product of a blind necessity…. It rather considers all reality as the continuous activity of one who knows exactly what He is doing, and why.” (The first element is God as Father of us all, in other words.)
Second: ” …this establishes among us a common brotherhood. It declares that the strong and the weak, the civilized and the barbarian, the cultured and the ignorant, are bound together by ties which cannot be broken, and which it is decidedly perilous to ignore.” (So the second element is the brotherhood of man.)
“In the third place: Christian philosophy is considerably more than a system of ethics or metaphysics. It is an historical system of faith, of worship, and of practice which traces its origin to the life and teachings of a man whose character it regards as the highest embodiment of ideal living”: Jesus.
And finally: “The Christian philosophy, which begins with God’s Fatherhood, involving man’s brotherhood, and the Mastership of Jesus, who viewed this life as a training-school for future achievements of a higher order, finds it quite impossible to permit death to assume any other place than that of porter at the gates of another world.” (So the fourth element is belief in life after death.)
If you’re at all familiar with Lloyd C. Douglas the novelist, you may be surprised at how unoriginal this answer is. Douglas had a lot of interesting things to say throughout his career as a minister and especially in his writings, but it doesn’t take more than a glance at this sermon to see that, in the fall of 1919, he had not yet developed his ideas. It would take him most of the 1920s to accomplish that; at this point he was still saying many of the same things that other modernists of the period were saying. Christian religion for him was, in essence, a faith in God as Father, the Brotherhood of Man, the centrality of Jesus, and belief in life after death.
This is the core of Douglas’s sermon, but I have to be honest: on this occasion his remarks are not well organized. He talks about a variety of topics, but he doesn’t clearly tie them all together. In fact, I can’t see how the title, “The Conservation of Moral Leadership,” relates to the any of the things he says in the body of the sermon. On at least one other occasion (1/4/1920) he admitted that he was required to submit the titles of his sermons so far in advance (in order to be announced in the newspapers and printed in the bulletin) that his thoughts sometimes went in a different direction from the one he had in mind when he chose the title. Since his sermon the previous week was about the leadership responsibilities of young people in the years to come, he probably had this sermon in mind as a follow-up to that one, explaining how their leadership could be “conserved” by pursuing the kind of religion he was going to describe. Whatever his intentions were, he didn’t end up making them clear.
Despite all this, there are a few “quotable quotes” scattered throughout the sermon, and some of them are worth talking about. I’ll do that over the next few posts.
Lloyd Douglas is speaking to the young people who fill the balcony of his church on this occasion (students at the University of Michigan, October 12, 1919). He has been talking about their leadership responsibilities in the coming days, after graduation and beyond. It is, he says, “an age which faces problems of radical and rapid readjustment” after WWI that are “more serious and far-reaching than any generation has confronted for at least four centuries, if indeed ever before in the long history of mankind.”
Speaking of the rising generation in the third person, he says that, “if they are to deal with this situation wisely, it will require them to be diligent students of the past, especially as it relates to the development of the principle of religion in the life of the race.
“Moreover, if these potential leaders of the new days are to offer any useful contribution to this problem, it will be necessary that they seek to clarify, in their own minds, the elements of religion which need preservation and emphasis today.”
Now he speaks directly to them, addressing them in second person:
“Three courses are open to you in relation to this grave matter.
“First, you may decide that it is none of your business whether the religion of tomorrow survives or perishes; whether it helps or hinders human progress; whether it ministers to or menaces the aspirations of humanity. Now that you have determined to be an engineer, or a lawyer, or a banker, or a physician, it is no affair of yours that the religion of our people shall drift toward this tendency or that. Let the preachers fuss that all out among themselves….”
Douglas pauses to comment: “It is surprising how many people are going through this life minus any sense of responsibility to the broader needs of the human race.”
He continues: “The second course open to you is the advocacy of a stand-pat policy of religious thought, which refuses to admit of any change, either in historic beliefs or ecclesiastical observances and usages….
“The third course open to you is to insist upon the revitalizing of such religious systems as are now in active operation, striving for a return to elemental principles, and the discarding of all non-essential accretions, gathered up from the incidental excursions made along the way through the years.
“I do not mean that Christianity is to cast off its ancient sacramentalism and symbolism, much of which is of undoubted value to the culture of the soul. Neither do I mean that Christianity should become a mere manual training institution for the performance of social service, in which the mystical claims of the spirit are to be set at naught. But rather, that the real elements of Christianity, as taught and exemplified by the matchless Teacher of Nazareth in Galilee, shall be revivified and energized in modern life.”
(There is at least one other option that Douglas doesn’t mention: you can start a new religion. And it’s an important fact about Douglas that he doesn’t bring this up, for one of his most basic assumptions is that religion is a bequest: it is something we inherit from the strivings of people in past ages. Some years later, after a trip to England, he will shake his head at the lack of respect displayed by Mormon missionaries passing out pamphlets beside an old historic cathedral. To Douglas, religious innovations would only be meaningful if made within the context of all that has gone before.)
He has just said that this third option will build on “the real elements of Christianity.” And now he continues: “Just what these elements are may properly engage the attention of all thoughtful people who hope to contribute something to the conservation of religion in our day.
“For a few Sunday mornings, I expect to discuss with you the fundamental principles of religion as I see them, with the hope that we may clarify our thinking on this important subject. As highly privileged members of our generation, it is surely our duty to do some constructive thinking about the problems of life and character which confront the race.”
And so he invites his congregation of students, professors, administrators, and townspeople to join him in thinking this through more thoroughly in the weeks ahead.
The Lloyd C Douglas Page 