The Greatest Sermon in Fiction

Moby-Dick is the great American novel—an epic of the voyage of life, the story of man’s folly. It is also the story of man’s rebirth from the ways of death to the way of life, and if read as such, Moby-Dick is a very great Christian novel.

Surely no other work of prose fiction contains such a profusion of Christian imagery so concretely identified. The acts and rites of the Church, the dual responsibilities of man-to-God and man-to-man: Herman Melville has given them all, yet wholly and artistically in the language and lore of whaling and the sea.

Early in the novel the vagabond-narrator Ishmael attends a worship service in New Bedford. Ishmael is a Presbyterian by claim, but he is not a practicing believer. He finds the sociality of the pagan Polynesian Queequeg preferable in its simplicity to the profound doctrine of Calvin and Knox. But he goes to church nonetheless on this December morning because he is afraid: he is about to embark on his first whale-hunt.

Melville devotes three chapters to description of the chapel and the service. The preacher is Father Mapple, an old seaman himself, and Chapter IX records his sermon on Jonah. It is the greatest sermon in imaginative literature (see excerpts on page 11).

No other passage in Moby-Dick has stirred quite so many differing patterns in the reflecting pool of criticism as has “The Sermon.” There are critics who think they see in the sermon some degree of contrast between what the preacher says and what Melville would have his readers believe. This camp is headed by Professor Lawrance Thompson, who, in his book Melville’s Quarrel with God, speaks of Father Mapple’s sermon as “the deceptive equivocation and the sneer at Christian doctrine.” There are also critics who regard the sermon merely as an extraordinary example of Yankee oratory. So Lewis Mumford exclaims, “What a preacher, and what a sermon!”

Then there are those critics to whom Chapter IX becomes a key with which to unlock the doors of mystery, or a compass by which to steer through the stormy pages that follow. Howard Vincent writes that “Melville undoubtedly intended that Father Mapple’s sermon should be the vehicle for the central theme of Moby-Dick.” W. H. Auden agrees, declaring that “Father Mapple’s Sermon … is not, as has sometimes been said, a magnificent irrelevance, but an essential clue to the meaning of the whole book.” And Professor Randall Stewart concurs with these opinions when he says:

One remembers, upon reaching the end of the book, Father Mapple’s sermon (in Chapter IX), and looking back, one sees its importance more clearly than before. For Father Mapple’s sermon about Jonah gives us a yardstick by which to measure the sin of Ahab.

Clearly the reader of Moby-Dick must choose one of these alternatives or else construct a meaningless fourth—that Melville was merely padding his novel with a sample of New England rhetoric. Obviously this essay claims for “The Sermon” a lasting significance throughout Moby-Dick; indeed, a lasting significance in literature.

What makes it a great sermon? In the first place, the preacher directs his remarks to his audience in a deliberate attempt to establish a relationship between the story and his listeners’ experiences. “What a pregnant lesson to us in this prophet!” he cries. To increase the effectiveness of his delivery and to impress more deeply the importance of the lesson upon his audience, Father Mapple employs a contemporaneity of speech that removes the narrative from its ancient setting to show its current application. The crew of Jonah’s ship are “Joe,” “Jack,” and “Harry.” The interview between the Captain and Jonah is conducted in the American idiom of the time. “ ‘Point out my state-room, Sir,’ says Jonah now. ‘I’m travel-weary; I need sleep.’ ”

A Double-Stranded Lesson

Secondly, Father Mapple declares the message of the Jonah story to be “a two-stranded lesson,” that is, a double-significance bound tightly and intertwined: “a lesson to us all as sinful men, and a lesson to me as a pilot of the living God.” Here we come upon the parallels between the biblical account and the drama of Moby-Dick. Jonah’s example serves to enlighten all men, including Ishmael and Queequeg, members of the congregation that Sunday morning. To each one Father Mapple addresses the lesson:

“Shipmates, I do not place Jonah before you to be copied for his sin but I do place him before you as a model for repentance. Sin not; but if you do, take heed to repent of it like Jonah.”

But that second strand of the lesson relates specifically to the interwoven thread of experience that ties together Jonah, Father Mapple, and Captain Ahab. Consider first the direct resemblances between the Hebrew prophet and the Yankee skipper.

Both are unhappy men with their slouched hats and guilty eyes. Father Mapple calls Jonah “a miserable man … most contemptible and worthy of all scorn; with slouched hat and guilty eye, skulking from his God.” Ishmael records that “with slouched hat, Ahab lurchingly paced the planks,” looking like a moody, stricken man “with a crucifixion in his face.”

When Jonah seeks to crown his escape from God by adding the privacy of a locked door to his perquisites, “the Captain laughs lowly to himself.” There is in that laugh the evil suggestion of imminent disaster, and its similarity to “the low laugh from the hold” of the “Pequod” that presages the role of Fedallah in Ahab’s tragedy is frightening.

Hidden away in his cramped bunk beneath the waterline of the ship, Jonah watches the lamp remain steady in spite of the heaving of the ship. “ ‘Oh! so my conscience hangs in me!’ he groans, ‘straight upward, so it burns; but the chambers of my soul are all in crookedness!’ ” Thus Father Mapple characterizes the remorseful prophet. So too are all the chambers of Ahab’s soul, “tied up and twisted; gnarled and knotted with wrinkles.” Not so the warning, burning masts of his ship. Like Jonah’s steady lamp, they stand straight; the corpusants at their tips blaze upward in a blinding apocalypse of doom. “God’s burning finger has been laid on the ship,” Ishmael discovers. “His ‘Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin’ has been woven into the shrouds and cordage.” But even as the great masts burn like candles, and in spite of the Christian mate Starbuck’s condemnation—“God, God is against thee, old man; forbear! tis an ill voyage! ill begun, ill continued!”—Ahab rededicates himself and his entire crew to their iniquitous quest.

“All your oaths to hunt the White Whale are as binding as mine; and heart, soul, and body, lungs and life, old Ahab is bound. And that ye may know to what tune this heart beats; look ye here; thus I blow out the last fear!” And with one blast of his breath he extinguished the flame.

Jonah’s conscience appalls him, Ahab’s is quenched. There a difference between the two lies.

Father Mapple tells the audience that, in his greatest moment of need, Jonah cried “ ‘out of the belly of hell’—when the whale grounded upon the ocean’s utmost bones.” Jonah’s prayer stands starkly in contrast to Ahab’s curse at a similar time of need: “From hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee, … thou damned whale!”

One Restored, One Doomed

The greatest distinction between Jonah and Captain Ahab is apparent in Jonah’s restoration and Ahab’s doom. For Ahab there is the shattering realization that he has failed. “Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief,” he despairs. The reader gropes to find Ahab’s meaning: perhaps he suggests that his most noble moment, since the avenging act upon Moby Dick has never been consummated, was the instant of Ahab’s dismembering. If so, Ahab is conscious in his final speech of having had his closest communication with Supremacy in the initial confrontation. All his subsequent suffering and self-denial have not elevated him above the psychical apex he once reached at the Season-on-the-Line.

But because Jonah’s conscience was not seared, and because he “prayed unto the Lord his God, ‘salvation is of the Lord,’ ” Father Mapple’s peroration can sound its exultant peals. As if prefiguring the depths of Ahab’s “topmost grief,” the preacher reminds his seafaring congregation that God’s delight is higher than man’s woe, even as the pinnacle of the ship is higher above the water than the keel is below. The regenerated prophet is portrayed as possessing “delight … a far, far upward, and inward delight,” and with this delight an unmitigating sense of purpose that reveals something of the New England independence-from-men and dependence-upon-God that typifies such widely diverse philosophies as those of Edwards and Emerson. “Against the proud gods and commodores of this earth,” Jonah “ever stands forth his own inexorable self.” Therefore “delight,—top-gallant delight is to him, who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his God, and is only a patriot to heaven.”

Excerpts From ‘The Sermon’

Father Mapple … slowly turned over the leaves of the Bible, and at last, folding his hand down upon the proper page, said: “Beloved shipmates, clinch the last verse of the first chapter of Jonah—‘And God had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah.’

“Shipmates, this book, containing only four chapters—four yarns—is one of the smallest strands in the mighty cable of the Scriptures. Yet what depths of the soul does Jonah’s deep sea-line sound! what a pregnant lesson to us is this prophet! What a noble thing is that canticle in the fish’s belly! How billowlike and boisterously grand! We feel the floods surging over us; we sound with him to the kelpy bottom of the waters; seaweed and all the slime of the sea is about us! But what is this lesson that the book of Jonah teaches? Shipmates, it is a two-stranded lesson; a lesson to us all as sinful men, and a lesson to me as a pilot of the living God.…

“Shipmates, God has laid but one hand upon you; both his hands press upon me. I have read ye by what murky light may be mine the lesson that Jonah teaches to all sinners; and therefore to ye, and still more to me, for I am a greater sinner than ye. And now how gladly would I come down from this mast-head and sit on the hatches there where you sit, and listen as you listen, while some one of you reads me that other and more awful lesson which Jonah teaches to me, as a pilot of the living God. How being an annointed pilot-prophet, or speaker of true things, and bidden by the Lord to sound those unwelcome truths in the ears of a wicked Nineveh, Jonah, appalled at the hostility he should raise, fled from his mission, and sought to escape his duty and his God by taking ship at Joppa. But God is everywhere; Tarshish he never reached. As we have seen, God came upon him in the whale, and swallowed him down to living gulfs of doom, and with swift slantings tore him along ‘into the midst of the seas,’ where the eddying depths sucked him ten thousand fathoms down, and ‘the weeds were wrapped about his head,’ and all the watery world of woe bowled over him. Yet even then beyond the reach of any plummet—‘out of the belly of hell’—when the whale grounded upon the ocean’s utmost bones, even then, God heard the engulphed, repenting prophet when he cried. Then God spake unto the fish; and from the shuddering cold and blackness of the sea, the whale came breeching up towards the warm and pleasant sun, and all the delights of air and earth; and ‘vomited out Jonah upon the dry land;’ when the word of the Lord came a second time; and Jonah, bruised and beaten—his ears, like two sea-shells, still multitudinously murmuring of the ocean—Jonah did the Almighty’s bidding. And what was that, shipmates? To preach the Truth to the face of Falsehood! That was it!

“This, shipmates, this is that other lesson; and woe to that pilot of the living God who slights it. Woe to him whom this world charms from Gospel duty! Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God has brewed them into a gale! Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to appal! Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness! Woe to him who, in this world, courts dishonor! Woe to him who would not be true, even though to be false were salvation! Yea, woe to him who, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is himself a castaway!”

He drooped and fell away from himself for a moment; then lifting his face to them again, showed a deep joy in his eyes, as he cried out with a heavenly enthusiasm—“But oh! shipmates! on the starboard hand of every woe, there is a sure delight; and higher the top of that delight than the bottom of the woe is deep. Is not the main-truck higher than the kelson is low? Delight is to him—a far, far upward, and inward delight—who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self. Delight is to him whose strong arms yet support him, when the ship of this base treacherous world has gone down beneath him. Delight is to him, who gives no quarter in the truth, and kills, burns, and destroys all sin though he pluck it out from under the robes of Senators and Judges. Delight,—top-gallant delight is to him, who acknowledges no law or lord, but the Lord his God, and is only a patriot to heaven. Delight is to him, whom all the waves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous mob can never shake from this sure Keel of the Ages. And eternal delight and deliciousness will be his, who coming to lay him down, can say with his final breath—O Father!—chiefly known to me by Thy rod—mortal or immortal, here I die. I have striven to be Thine, more than to be this world’s, or mine own. Yet this is nothing; I leave eternity to Thee; for what is man that he should live out the lifetime of his God?”

He said no more, but slowly waved a benediction, covered his face with his hands, and so remained kneeling, till all the people had departed, and he was left alone in the place. [Moby-Dick, L. Mansfield and H. Vincent, eds., Hendricks House, 1952. By permission.]

The contrast between Jonah and Ahab at this point is strikingly clear. How many citations could be amassed from the text of Moby-Dick to show Ahab’s unflinching refusal to give his allegiance to anyone but himself! Yet even he realizes the contradiction of fact.

“Ahab is for ever Ahab, man. This whole act’s immutably decreed. Twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion years before the ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates’ lieutenant; I act under orders.… Stand round me, men. Ye see an old man cut down to the stump, leaning on a shivered lance; propped up on a lonely foot. Tis Ahab.”

Another set of comparisons exists, that between Ahab and Father Mapple. Here the contrast need not be quite so hypothetical, for both are flesh-and-blood contemporaries, men who have sailed the same seas, perhaps in the same ships. But one has retired from the sea; the other ought to have retired. One has committed his will to God’s use, while the other has sanctified that will unto himself.

There can be no doubt that Melville wished his readers to see in the personality of Father Mapple a character such as Ahab might have been, had he left the sea after his crippling to follow “his humanities.” In fact, it could well be argued that Melville is implying in the parenthetical paragraphs describing the preacher in action that Father Mapple was once himself a Jonah/Ahab. His demeanor is that of a man relating a confession from the inner core of his soul. He is no mere story-teller, embellishing a fish-tale. Throughout the chapter he is depicted as increasingly engrossed in his message.

His deep chest heaved as with a ground-swell. He … seemed communing with God and himself.

But again he leaned over towards the people, and bowing his head lowly, with an aspect of the deepest yet manliest humility, he spake these words.

He drooped and fell away from himself for a moment; then lifting his face to them again, showed a deep joy in his eyes, as he cried out with a heavenly enthusiasm.

We may rightly suppose that Father Mapple, like Jonah, “when the word of the Lord came a second time,” had responded to do the Lord’s bidding, as a man who realizes his own position as a sinner before God and senses both God’s hands pressing upon him. Ahab had never acknowledged his obligation because Ahab, though smitten by fire and disabled by the Whale, had never learned the greatest lesson to come out of Father Mapple’s sermon.

“As sinful men, it is a lesson to us all, because it is a story of the sin, hard-heartedness, suddenly awakened fears, the swift punishment, repentance, prayers, and finally the deliverance and joy of Jonah. As with all sinners among men, the sin of this son of Amittai was in his wilful disobedience of the command of God—never mind now what that command was, or how conveyed—which he found a hard command. But all the things that God would have us do are hard for us to do—remember that—and hence, he oftener commands us than endeavors to persuade. And if we obey God, we must disobey ourselves; and it is in this disobeying ourselves, wherein the hardness of obeying God consists.”

Melville, through the lips of Father Mapple, has caught in that last sentence the essence of the struggle that faces every man—the conflict between flesh and spirit that Jesus Christ taught when he said, “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.” Moreover, it is the conflict that Christ himself experienced in Gethsemane. And it is in the spirit of consecration expressed through the Saviour’s prayer, “Not my will, but thine, be done,” that Father Mapple is last seen.

He said no more, but slowly waving a benediction, covered his face with his hands, and so remained kneeling, till all the people had departed, and he was left alone in the place.

The sermon is ended but its significance lasts, and its effect is powerful, whether in or out of the book.

Blue Monday

Now as I sat down at my morning meal in the house where I do dwell, I did look down upon a table spread with the good fruit of the earth. But I was weary and ill at ease and could not eat. There was food for my body, but my soul was desolate. The girl friend, who knows me perchance all too well, did then say: “Thou needest not tell me what ailest thee; it is thine old ailment. Thou hast again said all that thou knowest on the Sabbath Day and there is nothing left for thee to say on the coming Sabbath. Thou hast thy Monday morning blues.” Then I did reply, “Thou speakest wisely. My head is as a barrel, and I have come to the bottom of my barrel. I must flee to the hills and hide my hoary head in shame, even if perhaps the whole world doth perish with me.” But the girl friend hath a way with her. Whenever I dance around in holy glee as if I were God’s personal secretary, she soon bringeth me back to earth. She steppeth on my toes to remind me that I too have feet of clay. But whenever I am in the depths of despair, she lifteth me up on a rock that is higher than I. “The whole world will not perish if thou ceaseth thy preaching,” she said. “One higher than thou is in charge of things. Thou thinkest that thou art a little god. Thou speaketh too much of what is in thine own mind and not enough of what is in the mind of God. There is enough light in his Word to sustain thee for thy threescore and ten years. Forget thyself, open thy mind, hear His voice, and new truth will come pouring in as in the sound of a rushing wind.” Then I did sit down and eat a good hearty breakfast of ham and eggs, and I did say to the girl friend, “Thou art a good egg, and I have been acting like a ham. Thou speakest so wisely, forsooth; can it be because thou hast been listening to such good sermons during thy lifetime?” The girl friend thereupon did heave a deep and heavy sigh.—The Rev. DOWIE G. DEBOER, Brimfield, Massachusetts.

D. Bruce Lockerbie teaches literature and composition at The Stony Brook School. He received the A.B. and the M.A. degrees from New York University, and is chairman of the English Department at Stony Brook.

The Silent God?

The problem of revelation remains vital for our time. Indeed, whether God has let himself be known and, if so, how, is a decisive question of human life. A simple negative answer is given by all forms of atheism, for which the question itself is meaningless. There are, however, also those who are not atheists for whom the basic question is whether God has in fact revealed himself. For the person who has outgrown his childhood faith of more naïve times and has experienced profound changes in himself and the world, the question is existentially important. The simple faith of childhood cannot stand up under the critical attitudes he has assumed towards life and its increasingly complex problems. Questions arise concerning the reality of the formerly assumed love and righteousness of God in the face of the things which God “allows” to be suffered in the world. This does not mean that he has given up faith in God. It does mean that the God of his faith is surrounded by more and more question marks. Meanwhile, uncertainty and unrest swell up within the heart. The voices that taunted Old Testament poets echo more strongly around this perplexed modern, asking: Where is your God?

The challenge of the voices is the challenge of the silent God. It would seem to be a contradiction even to speak of a silent God. To speak of God at all, even of a silent God, assumes that in some way he has not kept silent. The silence of a God can be eloquent.

This may seem to be empty logic. Yet, men will often say something of God from out of a tradition of dogmatics, and then conclude that this God is a silent God. There are many voices which resound through life, but His voice is still. He is the silent, the hidden God. In the silence of heaven, the deep desperation of the voices of history becomes more acute, the tired searchings of man are endless and wearying unto death. If there were suddenly a manifestation of His divine presence, such as occurred in former times; if he should stand before us unavoidably and his voice should sound as the unmistakable Vox Dei; then would men believe. Then would men follow his leading with new courage. But it does not happen.

There is no voice from above, no revelation breaking through the doubts, not even an angel of light coming with a message from heaven. There is no breakthrough in the everlasting round of things, there are no miracles as in the once-upon-a-time. There is only a perpetual sweeping up of men into the maelstrom of ordinary and brute events. There is a world in distress with men in distress and anger and a constant state of shock; but there is no heavenly voice. Is there an answer—can we take courage from the very silence of God?

Protestantism is sometimes taunted by Roman Catholicism that, in decisive moments, it knows only the silent God. A prominent Roman Catholic once wrote: “The Protestant can believe that Christ has redeemed him, but he has no visible sign to hold to in hours of doubt and dread; he stands alone before a silent God.” The Roman Catholic, in contrast, has a God who speaks infallibly today. The Catholic has an audible voice of absolution in the priest.

We may set aside the fact that this audible voice, too, must be believed to be the voice of God. The point is that the problem of the silent God cannot be resolved in this way. I think of the situation of fear and despair in the Philippian jail, when the jailer was on the verge of suicide because he saw no way out. In that situation, Paul set before him the way out, the radical way out of his despair. It was the way of the Gospel of the speaking God.

Men do not want to deceive themselves in the dark despair and deep dread of the world. They want to hear a real voice, a voice which can remove all doubt and offer an unshakable foundation. The darkness of the world is not broken by a divine theophany or an angel of light. Doubt is not removed this way. In the Old Testament such things sometimes happened. But not always. Critics asked: Where is your God? And God did not break through. He allowed his chosen people to waste in exile, not merely for weeks but for long, long years.

Answering The Complaint

What should we answer when the complaint grows against the silence of God? Can we perhaps answer by saying that it is proven from nature that all things must have a cause, that there must be a First Cause that gives all things meaning? Does it, then, answer the complaint when we conclude that there must be One who has set an End or Purpose for everything? This is the scholastic answer. But it is clear that it will not set the modern heart at rest. The problem of the silent God is not answered by a First Cause. Man’s anxiety is not eased by proof of the purposefulness of all things. This is, in fact, his difficulty; he discovers precious little of this purposefulness in the world or in his own life. To deduce purpose for life from an idea of a First Cause will not satisfy, because modern man sees little purpose with his own eyes. God cannot be the crowning copestone of the magnificent vault of our thinking. Even in Roman Catholic circles it has become apparent that the significance of such neat systems of proofs for the existence of God is being questioned. In Rome, too, there are those who have no ready answer for modern man with his desperate questions and deep doubt.

In the biblical revelation, the possibility is presented that God might hide himself in certain circumstances. Israel had to reckon with the fact that God might hide his face in wrath (Isa. 54:8). The thought of divine self-withholding is terrifying: “For thou hast hid thy face from us, and hast consumed us, because of our iniquities” (Isa. 64:7). But it is evident that this wrathful hiding away is something other than the perplexing silence of God. This turning away is his holy answer to the sin of his people. When the people turned back to him, God always spoke again, came out of his holy hiding place, and turned again to them in mercy. The same thought is reflected in one of the Church’s confessions: whenever believers, fallen away, turn again in earnest repentance, the paternal face of God shines anew. The divine hiding is not a game in which he leaves us temporarily in confusion and uncertainty. It is part of the paternal earnestness of his effort to establish fellowship with us and embrace us in his love.

God’S Silence As Response To Sin

For this reason, we must not speak abstractly about the hidden and silent God. Most of the time, the phrase “silent God” is meant as a criticism. It is intended as a jibe, that we walk in the wastelands because God keeps silence. The Bible shows that God keeps silent when we choose the wastelands rather than his fold. His silence is divine in response to sin. Perhaps, in our modern situation, the complaint against the silence of God arises out of a prior estrangement from his service. It could be that we are no longer in a position to hear his voice. It could be that we do not see him because we have closed our eyes. Paul talks about the god of this world blinding the eyes of those who do not believe, lest the light of the Gospel of Christ who is the image of God should shine through to them (2 Cor. 4:4). It is possible that men speak so much about the silence of God because they do not listen to him.

In the biblical milieu things are different. The message of the risen Christ is given to the apostles: Go, proclaim it to the world. The Gospel spreads like a flame. It does not seek to prove that God exists. It is not a treatise to be commended to pure reason. It is not an appeal to the mature mind; it is for children. But the Word of God sounded as a powerful witness and cut as a two-edged sword through every culture and tradition. It went as a Word that refused to be empty, that did what God intended it to do. In the light of this, every complaint about the silence of God must be actually a refusal to listen. As long as Israel understood this, the wonder of life hung pleasant over them. They knew they had not been delivered over to dark powers and fearful destiny. They knew that God was always near unto them who drew near unto him.

Hence, there is one answer to the complaint against the silent God. It is the witness of the Church. It is not the answer deduced from a rational proof. It is a call to walk in God’s way, the way of prayer and expectation. Only in this way will the complaint be silenced, even when we are forced into a consciousness that God’s ways are higher than our ways and his thoughts other than our thoughts. This can be bitter and unfathomable, as it was for Israel when she complained: My way is hid from the Lord (Isa. 40:27). But we know the divine answer: “Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary?… He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength” (Isa. 40:28, 29).

We do not live in a world sealed off from divine mercy and left alone in the silence of God. We live in a world resounding with His summons to leave the silence of the wastelands and come to his gracious voice, to walk out of darkness into his wonderful light. And if there are many who are lost in what seems to them a valley of divine silence, we ought not to look down upon them from the highlands. We should remember the words of Zechariah: “Thus said the Lord of Hosts; In those days it shall come to pass, that ten men shall take hold out of all languages of the nations, even shall take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew, saying, We will go with you: for we have heard that God is with you” (Zech. 8:23).

The greater the distress and uncertainty of the world, the more urgent becomes the challenge of the Church. As the Church responds to the challenge, it will become more and more evident that not the silence but the speech of God arouses the most complaints. But where the voice is received, there men will learn to perceive that God can indeed keep silence. Yet, it will not be a silence that arouses complaint. It will be the silence that Zephaniah witnessed to: “He will be silent in his love.”

G. C. Berkouwer is professor of dogmatics and the history of dogma at the Free University of Amsterdam. He is the author of many volumes in the field of theology, including Divine Election and The Image of God.

We Have Something to Say

The ability to keep silent is not a virtue that all of us always possess. Though we may not be trained as public speakers, we have no difficulty in talking when given the right circumstances. But what we say is not always helpful to us or to others. Thus the Bible speaks again and again about loose tongues and sharp words. On the other hand, the Bible also indicates again and again the times when something should be said. Indeed, the Bible is itself a testimony that those who live in fellowship with God have something to say.

Consider some critical periods in the Old Testament. God called Abraham to come apart and be the beginning of the covenant relation established with him and his people and through them with all people. Abraham’s family was hardly settled in Palestine before forced to go to Egypt. After long years of slavery there was the Exodus and establishment in the Land of Promise. God’s chosen people became a nation. But this nation, through which all nations were to be blessed, was itself torn apart by internal strife, spiritually smothered by pagan enticements, threatened with conquest by powerful neighbors. This was the period of great prophets, men who were called to speak for God, to summon the people to repentance and warn them of impending judgment; men like Amos, who said, “The Lord God has spoken; who can but prophesy?… You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities.… I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.… Take away from me the noise of your songs.… But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

Or consider the New Testament. The nation of God’s people was gone, but the covenant of God’s love remained. And so in the fullness of time a star appeared and a Child was born. God became incarnate. God came into human flesh. Never did there live one like Jesus Christ. People were touched, lives were changed. Some became full disciples. But after a time Christ left the earth. Was the heavenly vision gone, the day of new hope over?

Those whose lives had been touched said, No. It was not the end, only the beginning. And they had something to say. They taught and preached Christ the crucified and resurrected Saviour, and when people asked, “What shall we do?,” the answer came back: “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.” When religious leaders who were not believers ordered them not to teach or speak in the name of Jesus, these Christians responded, like Peter and John, “Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge; for we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard.”

Nor are the testimonies of the Bible given only in times of critical pressure. The Psalms are the expressions of people who lived in fellowship with God and had something to say about his majesty and wonder, his goodness and love. Or take the man who had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years. Christ came along one day and told him to take up his pallet and walk. The healed man’s friends argued about his carrying his pallet on the sabbath day, but he replied, “The man who healed me said to me, ‘Take up your pallet, and walk.’ ” Or turn through the Pauline Epistles. Again and again this man whose conversion began on the Damascus road had something to say—“Whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

Yes, when one lives in fellowship with God he has something to say. We Christians have something to say today.

For one thing, we have something to say in times of trouble. This is true of times of national danger. If the prophet Isaiah had been living in our nation during the past months, surely his message would have been no different from that delivered to his own people in the eighth century B.C. and recorded in the book of the Bible which bears his name. The situations are different: the people of Judah faced chariots and spears, not missiles and nuclear warheads. But God’s chosen people were also faced with the ominous threat of a powerful pagan force—Assyria—that sought to conquer the world.

As the prophet Isaiah spoke to his people he urged them not to give way to the atheism of fear and panic. He called them to view the situation in the framework of the rulership of God, who was the God of all nations. Assyria could not raise an arm except within this framework. God’s people needed to see the impending judgment of God upon them and to heed the call to repentance and recommitment. Herein was their destiny to be determined. This word is always to be said in times of national danger. And it can be said only by those who live in fellowship with God.

We Christians, then, have something to say. We not only share the concerns of fellow citizens over physical safety, preservation of national boundaries, and the exercise of freedom: we have other concerns and deeper insights. We know that our play as a nation is ultimately not with Mr. Khrushchev or any other would-be rulers of the world. They are not to be taken lightly, but they and we live only in the providence of God. He is our security and our judgment.

Our Personal Experiences

This same emphasis applies to our personal experiences. The fact that we are Christians does not mean that God will always protect us from trouble or make life easy. This is what some of us want. We want our lives as Christians to be quiet and safe journeys, free from accidents and trouble. But it is not so. As long as the earth groans in travail; as long as godless forces are at work; indeed, until God’s redemptive purposes are fulfilled and Christ comes again, there will be conflicts, suffering, trouble, tragedy. But this is not all. The New Testament does not promise escape, but it is filled with promises that we can live through troubles confidently and victoriously. For these experiences are not our masters. They do not determine our fate. They are not our security. We live in and for God, and “in everything God works for good with those who love him.…” Yes, we have something to say in time of trouble; and as we say it in our living as well as with our words, life will be different.

We Christians also have something to say about moral righteousness. The breakdown of morality in our society has become so widespread that syndicated gossip columns have gone to preaching. Someone has said that the seriousness of some of our scandals is seen not only in the violation of moral laws but also in the fact that so many people seem unconcerned about the wrong that was done. One could go a step further and say a greater seriousness is seen in the fact that this breakdown involves so many of us who profess to be religious and who claim membership in the Church.

Now this is not to say we have no place in the Church if we make mistakes and commit sins. Such a position may be used by cynics and other outsiders as an excuse for staying away. It is precisely because we are sinners that we have the Church of Jesus Christ. But our identification with Christ means more than this. It means that something has happened and is happening to us. We are members of the Church not only because we are sinners but because God has come in Christ to save us from our sins.

More Than An Ethical System

Here we come to an overlooked but serious cause of our moral breakdown. Instead of being a personal experience with the Christ who wrought our salvation on Calvary’s cross, the Christian way is considered by too many of the people of our land as an ethical and moral system to which they will give verbal allegiance and which they will try to follow in their daily living. But this does not work.

Christ did have a lot to say about moral righteousness. There are things which are right and things which are wrong, not because we think them so but because God is God. But you and I and our fellow men are sinful, rebellious people. We are not able to do what is right. The stronger the pressure, the more difficult it becomes. We can join a hundred organizations which recognize the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule, yet this will not enable us to live as we should. Only as we have a personal experience with Christ, as he lives within us and changes us into new creations, can we live righteously.

Therefore we Christians have something to say about salvation. In the recent World Mission Consultation one of the major questions considered was universalism—the belief that all people are saved. Such a concept has a sharp effect on the dynamics of a world mission program presenting Jesus Christ as the only Saviour. It also has its effect on the testimony and witness we Christians make to our next-door neighbors.

Does it make any real difference whether people believe in and give themselves to Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour? The Bible says that it does, that it makes all the difference. The Bible says you and I and all other people are spiritually lost outside of God as he is revealed in Christ. The Bible says we ourselves are unable to overcome our sin, unable to create fellowship with God. The Bible says our salvation comes not as we try to obey laws and undergo religious rituals, but when the living God comes into our lives. And the Bible says that God has come to us. He has come in Christ. He alone redeems. He is our only Saviour. Yes, we have something to say about salvation; and as we say it in our living as well as with our words, life will be different.

This means, then, that as people who are redeemed in the blood of Jesus Christ we have something to say to the unredeemed culture in which we live. We are all too aware of the tensions of our society, tensions created by critical and unresolved issues in nearly every area of our life. And we who have been chosen of God to be the Body of his crucified and resurrected Son have too long been silent with our words and with our deeds. Yea, instead of being committed instruments through whom the Holy Spirit works to redeem life, we in our silence and inactivity as the Christian community have been molded by the unredeemed culture in which we live. Look, for example, at our fellowship as believers within our own denomination. Is it marked by the New Testament characteristics of the Body of Christ or by the fellowship patterns which characterize our culture? Indeed, the watchword of the day has been: Be careful! Tensions are tight! Go slow! Stay away from controversial matters! Trouble can develop!

Thus the Christian Church today has become too much an ambulance in a sin-torn world, dragging along behind the issues, picking up the wounded, making bandages—when it should be out on the front lines, facing the issues and getting hit in the face, but leading others and conquering the enemy in the name of our victorious Lord.

Hear the words of Isaiah:

“The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.… They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. In that day the root of Jesse shall stand as an ensign to the peoples; him shall the nations seek, and his dwellings shall be glorious.”

These are no idle words. This is no fairy tale. This is a Messianic passage. This is the Word of God about his redemption of life. Let the redeemed of the Lord say so!

William A. Benfield, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Charleston, West Virginia, holds the degrees of Th.M., Th.D., and D.D. This article was the Sunday morning sermon delivered before the 1963 General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U. S.

Thanksgiving: Clue to Life’s Meaning

Many people lose their way in life because they are not grateful to God. Historically, Paul associated the most serious spiritual and moral losses with an unthankful spirit. He wrote the Christians at Rome that ungodly men were without excuse; “for although they knew God they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking and their senseless minds were darkened” (Romans 1:21, RSV). The context reveals that failure in thanking contributes to failure in thinking. Awareness of God becomes blurred. Wisdom turns to folly. Worship is transferred from the Creator to the creature. Values are so distorted that the possibility of sanctity and beauty in sex and the hope of social justice and domestic happiness may be wholly canceled.

Some of our most celebrated theologians could have brightened their somber treatises with some chapters on praise, gratitude, and joy. One introduction to Thomas Aquinas which contains seven hundred pages of excerpts from the Angelic Doctor yields very little on Christian gladness. Aquinas thinks that man will find ultimate happiness in that knowledge of God which the human mind will possess after this life. Such stalwarts as Charles Hodge and A. H. Strong have no place in index headings for thanksgiving. Theology would be better written with some thankology.

As a pastor, I have often found church members startled by the simple question: “Have you ever in your life specifically thanked God for Jesus Christ?” Usually the answer has been, No.

Fundamentally, we begin to fulfill God’s purpose for us by offering up our praise:

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the lands!

Serve the Lord with gladness!

Come into his presence with singing!

Know that the Lord is God!

It is he that made us, and we are his;

We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving,

And his courts with praise!

Give thanks to him, bless his name!

For the Lord is good;

His steadfast love endures forever,

And his faithfulness to all generations.

While many of the psalms celebrate God as Redeemer, this one (Psalm 100) sings of him almost wholly as Creator. Man was made to rejoice in his Maker. Some who may suppose that John Calvin never smiled will be astonished to learn that he attached to the first three commandments these positive cognates: adoration, trust, invocation, and thanksgiving.

While logically we may think of God in separate ways as Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer, experientially we know him in all these ways together if we are Christians. William Law, one of the outstanding men of prayer in the eighteenth century, was writing as creature and Christian when he urged: “If anyone would tell you the shortest, surest way to all happiness and perfection, he must tell you to make a rule to yourself to thank and praise God for everything that happens to you” (quoted in Prayer and Personal Religion, Coburn, Westminster Press, p. 35).

In brief compass in a pastoral letter Paul indicates that man’s chief end includes sharing gratefully in the gifts of the Creator. “Now the Spirit expressly says that in later times some will depart from the faith by giving heed to deceitful spirits … who forbid marriage and enjoin abstinence from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth. For everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving; for then it is consecrated by the word of God and prayer” (1 Tim. 4:1–5, RSV). A coercive asceticism may wear the garb of spirituality, but it is really an apostasy from the purpose of God for his creatures. But we must note that selfish enjoyment does not glorify God. Conscious recognition of the Giver’s goodness consecrates both gifts and enjoyment. In other words, man was put on earth to give thanks to God.

The crisp freshness of each new day, the smell of the good earth newly turned for winter wheat, a golden carpet of leaves in the woods, bulging bins of fruit and grain, and tables loaded for a feast excite our wonder and gratitude.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below.

Deliverance From Cynicism

If thanksgiving is a clue to life’s meaning, it must be relevant to pain, frustration, and loss. Unless it can stand up to life’s cruel blows and denials, it is as frothy and transitory as the foam on an ocean wave.

Let us consult William Law again. “For it is certain that whatever seeming calamity happens to you, if you thank and praise God for it, you turn it into a blessing. The true saint is not he who prays most, or fasts most …, who gives most alms or is most eminent for temperance, … or justice; but it is he who is always thankful to God, who wills everything that God wills, who receives everything as an instance of God’s goodness, and has a heart always ready to praise God for it” (Coburn, op. cit., p. 35).

We know life too well to suppose that the Hebrews were exempt from suffering. They were often afflicted—especially for disobedience. Yet listen to this ringing affirmation: “For the Lord God is a sun and shield; he bestows favor and honor. No good thing does the Lord withhold from those who walk uprightly” (Ps. 84:11, RSV). Try to find that in Greek philosophy! William James once said that the notion that the ancient Greeks were gaily joyous is a modern fiction and that whenever they were truly thoughtful they were sad.

Paul in chains wrote his epistle of joy, the letter to the Philippians. He saw calamity as serving to advance the Gospel. This proved the possibility of remaining thankful and unembittered under trial. He practiced what he had written earlier to the Thessalonians: “Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess. 5:16–18a, RSV). Commenting on this, John Wesley says: “This is Christian perfection. Further than this we cannot go; and we need not stop short of it. Our Lord has purchased joy, as well as righteousness, for us.… Thanksgiving is inseparable from true prayer; it is almost essentially connected with it. He that always prays is ever giving praise, whether in ease or pain, both for prosperity and for the greatest adversity. He blesses God for all things, looks on them as coming from Him, and receives them only for His sake; not choosing nor refusing, liking nor disliking, anything, but only as it is agreeable or disagreeable to His perfect will.”

I recall a very helpful distinction made once at a union Thanksgiving service in Mount Lebanon, Pennsylvania. Dr. John Calvin Reid was preaching on First Thessalonians 5:18. He pointed out that there is a difference between giving thanks for something and giving thanks in something. It may be impossible to be grateful for some towering tragedy; it is not impossible to be grateful in it. This is the crucial test of the thankful approach to life and the deathblow to cynicism.

The Corrective To Anxiety

Worry is a besetting weakness of most Christians, and clergymen are notoriously assailed by it. A busy pastor has problems thrown at him day and night. Some parishioners feel they are rendering high service by reporting as many problems as possible to the minister. It takes some doing to avoid being a parish trash can.

Bishop Stephen Neill in a beautiful book for ministers (Fulfill Thy Ministry, Harper and Brothers) urges clergymen to manifest the grace of ataraxia. “It is the life that is free from strain and worry and anxiety” (p. 60). He comments: “You will find, I think, that worry is almost always connected with an error about time or place, wanting to be somewhere else, or wanting to be in some time other than the present” (p. 62). He suggests three rules for effective living: “Live here and now. Recollect always that underneath are the everlasting arms, here and now. Do what you can.… In my experience God deals wonderfully gently with the honest mistakes, such as all of us are likely to make, and guards our people from being harmed by them” (p. 63). Another way to say what this gifted Anglican says is: “Practice a grateful faith moment by moment.”

This is Paul’s point in Philippians 4:6 and 7: “Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (RSV). The words “with thanksgiving” are central, suggesting that gratitude opens the windows of the spirit to the inpouring of God’s peace.

The sublime scenes of heaven in the Apocalypse resound with the praises of all creatures. We are in training now for unhampered participation in the unending chorus of joy.

Cary N. Weisiger, III, pastor of the Menlo Park (California) Presbyterian Church, holds the degrees of A.B. (Princeton University), Th.B. (Westminster Seminary), and D.D. (Muskingum College). He has served on the General Council of the United Presbyterian Church.

A Prostituted Motif

Christian militancy paid off the last week in September when a “gospel” night club on Times Square buckled under the pressure of nearly three months of nightly picketing by some Harlem churchgoers.

The club, the “Sweet Chariot,” was the first devoted solely to commercializing gospel music. Its waitress “angels” came complete with wired halos, toy wings—and mesh tights. Other items from its lexicon: doorman—“Deacon,” headwaitress—“Archangel,” drink list—“Soul Stirrers,” gin—“Deacon’s Punch,” white table wine—“Satan’s Temptation.” Other finishing touches: choir gowns for performers, rest rooms labeled “Brothers” and “Sisters,” and a stage covered by a tent-meeting canvas.

Head charioteer Joe Scandore removed these gospel gimmicks during a Labor Day break. “I wasn’t aware they would offend anyone,” he explained. But the music-and-liquor brew alone was enough to propel the picketers until he agreed never again to program a religious song.

Show business has long believed the Gospel can be good news, financially, but some of the recent injections of Christian words and music into the secular world have been in remarkably bad taste.

At Atlantic City’s Club Harlem this past summer, those tired of treading the Boardwalk could enjoy—on the same bill—the Welcome Travelers Gospel Singers and an undraped group called the Modern Harlem Girls. Reported Variety, “With chests nearly exposed … [they] bring a bit of Vegas into old Harlem as they parade in beautiful, but abbreviated, costumes.”

Night-club owners aren’t the only prospectors in the gospel gold mine. Any Christian can get such inspiration in the comfort of his own home at the flick of a TV knob, since these acts are becoming a staple for variety and folk music shows. Variety reports 100 hours of gospel quartet singing a week on American TV; a survey by the swinging Blackwood Brothers shows use of religious music (of all types) up 70 per cent in a decade. Gospel records are big business.

But the next protest won’t be at Columbia or RCA; it will probably be in Greenwich Village. In the eighth week of its “Eighth Wonder,” the following scene unfolded:

In the usual bistro dimness, an orangey spotlight focused on a cramped platform, separated from the bar by two rows of tiny tables. A gum-chewing house drummer frowned through his “shades” and worked into a bump-and-grind beat, using all the resources of his four tom-toms. The singers in front of him flashed smiles and the incongruous words throbbed:

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.…”

Equally chained to rocking rhythm but somehow avoiding the twist motions that match it so well, the “Calvin White Singers” confronted “Wonder” tipplers with some original numbers as well as well-known spirituals and sacred pop tunes like “Somebody Bigger Than You and I.”

One of their more flamboyant things—a closer for the act—was based on the motif, “They won’t believe, not now.” After they had built up enough steam the singers marched around the club, pointing their fingers at the patrons, and decided that nobody believed. The unbelievers were laughing.

Most gospel performers are Negroes and most started out in churches—often for profit—before they were herded to greener pastures. In a crowded dressing room after their “unbelievers” bit, the Calvin White group turned out to fit this pattern. These two women and three men are regular churchgoers. Some of their ministers are behind the experiment, and church friends have come to the Wonder to see them.

As White analyzed his audience, “People who’ve never heard it before think it’s a show. The others get something out of it. For those who aren’t familiar with it, the beat fascinates them and keeps them there.… The whites are trying to find out what it’s all about.”

Many performers rationalize their commercial forays as evangelism in statements to the press: doesn’t the Church teach that the words of the Gospel should be taken everywhere?

Standing virtually alone is Mahalia Jackson, generally considered the top gospel singer, who lays the night-club trend at the feet of “greedy, blasphemous church folk who are getting rich the wrong way. [The Gospel is] not here to entertain people, it’s here to save people.” However, she saw nothing wrong with performing at the Newport Jazz Festival.

“Chariot” owner Scandore said that “we were doing fantastically well” before the picketing. Now he’s been forced to shelve plans to expand to other major cities. The spread of gospel clubs will also be discouraged by the Progressive National Baptists, whose September convention in Detroit vowed that any more clubs will be met with a New York-style protest.

“Thank God we don’t live in a theocracy,” Scandore grumbled.

The Wonder’s manager is Reena Schavone, 27, blonde, and pretty. “We’re doing very well,” she shouted (over the shouting onstage), and she expected a steady gospel market in the future. As yet untouched by picketing, she could afford to be casual about the religious aspect:

“These songs are really Tin Pan Alley. They don’t have any church origin. I don’t see anything wrong with it: the music brings in the people and the average man really enjoys it.”

Clergy support for performers comes from those agreed that the music is basically commercial. Club apologists detest high-priced concerts and “battles of song” booked regularly into local churches as well as major amphitheaters. And they don’t think the swinging, gymnastic gospel groups are very religious, in church or out.

In Negro churches there is a growing feeling that old-style gospel music might better be left to die a natural death in show business. The realists, however, know it will be strong for a long time to come. Dr. Henry A. Hildebrand, a Methodist and anti-club spokesman for Atlantic City churches, said, “The gospel song still has religious content for a vast number of people with limited education and cultural development, not able to appreciate the great anthems. It’s nearer to their way of life.”

The chatty informality of the pop gospel is a natural, though unsophisticated, result of emphasis on a personal God. White gospel artists, also reflecting this approach and using pop music techniques, sold over 100,000 records last year. A Presbyterian minister who called this sort of material “maudlin” and “sentimental,” the Rev. Eugene Callender of New York, put it on a higher plane than the night-club gospel, but because of the performers’ choice of places to sing, not musical qualities.

It would seem a lot simpler just to leave the Christians to sing Christian songs, but show business is out for money. It sees gospel as just another type of folk music, which is popular. And there is nothing but the words to distinguish gospel from rock ‘n’ roll, whose strong, square beat continues to charm juveniles of all ages.

On the other hand, club owner Scandore can’t understand the Christians: “The ministers are a hundred years too late if they want to keep it in the churches,” he maintains. True, Christian touches have long been in the performer’s bag of tricks, especially the musician’s. In the case of instrumental music—and gospel’s influence on jazz is daily becoming more marked—few people are irked.

But when singers give little evidence of believing their own words, the result can be distasteful. If they are humorous, mocking, or otherwise lacking in taste, indignation soars.

Scandore had another complaint: “What bugs me most is that the public doesn’t understand the issue. If they really knew what this was about they’d cross the picket lines. They think it’s about discrimination or something.”

To the picketers, however, civil rights was a large part of it. Many protesters were also heavily involved in anti-bias groups. The two Baptist leaders, Dr. C. S. Stamps and Dr. Thomas Kilgore, Jr., are involved in the rights movement. Kilgore, New York head of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, said, “They’re stupid fools to pick out just one group for this treatment—it’s sheer discrimination. They’re laughing at the Negro, and Negro performers are pulled right in.”

To Atlantic City’s Hildebrand, “The gospel songs and spirituals have come to us out of the travail and suffering of a people who employed them as an escape from the despair of slavery. It is most unfortunate that those who use the songs don’t understand the background and history giving rise to them. They weren’t amusing or cute when they originated.”

Lutherans On The March

The style of John Philip Sousa is infecting Lutheran music, says the Rev. Charles R. Anders. “The bugbear used to be chronic ‘dragitis,’ ” he told a symposium on worship in Denver; “now it is ‘speedomania.’ ” Anders, an associate director of the Commission on Worship of the Lutheran Church in America, cited a ‘critical need” to restudy musical settings in the Lutheran Service Book and Hymnal.

The Top Five

Popular demand for the old favorites in sacred songs shows no sign of tapering off, according to a survey of religious recordings made by CHRISTIANITY TODAY. These tunes, the study showed, appear most often on currently available discs:

“In the Garden”

“The Lord’s Prayer”

“What a Friend We Have in Jesus”

“How Great Thou Art”

“Just a Closer Walk with Thee”

Sacred artists with the most albums:

George Beverly Shea

Ralph Carmichael

Mahalia Jackson

Mormon Tabernacle Choir

Blackwood Brothers

Latest innovation: an album of hymns sung by the San Quentin Prison choir.

Review of Current Religious Thought: October 25, 1963

When this review appears, I shall be in Rome at the second session of the Vatican Council, the Lord willing. With what expectations may one reasonably anticipate the coming council meetings? What will come from the commission, appointed by Pope John, with Cardinals Ottaviani and Bea as co-chairmen, that was charged with giving advice on the question of “the sources of revelation”? What will come of the tensions, so obviously present in 1962, between the progressive and conservative elements? What will be the influence of the new theology of men like Hans Küng, Karl Rahner, Yves Congar, Henri de Lubac, and others, most of whom will be present at the council in one function or another? Decisions will be made that will affect the course of the Roman Catholic Church for the rest of the century.

Past months have witnessed devotion of a great deal of ink to all of these questions. I would like here to make some observations on the Roman Catholic prognosis made by Joseph Ratzinger—a student of Karl Rahner—in a book devoted to the first session of the council.

We can summarize his judgment by saying that, according to Ratzinger, the really significant decision was made at the first session. He does not mean that many concrete decrees or decisions were made, other than one on liturgy. He means that the first session set the ship of Peter on course; it determined the direction for all that is yet to come. A very crucial turning point was reached one day in November, 1962, when a commission report on the sources of revelation was defeated by a vote of 1386 to 813. The chairman of the commission was the conservative Ottaviani. The mind of the council went against his report because it was scholastic in character, was irrelevant to pastoral work, failed to come to grips with modern problems, and had no meaning for the ecumenical dialogue. But the heart of the objection lay in the fact that the report was traditionalistically oriented to the notion of two separate sources of revelation, tradition and Scripture, and failed to make Scripture the unique source of revelation.

Ratzinger sets this decision within the larger context of the church’s posture as viewed by John XXIII when he declared that the church must appear on the world’s scene not merely as judge and critic, but as the dispenser of the medicine of mercy to the sick and troubled of the world. The vote in November, according to Ratzinger, was the council’s ratification of the words of John spoken at the opening. With this vote, a definite period of the church had ended, the period of negative criticism. The finished episode was, Ratzinger admits, necessary in its time: Pius IX and Pius X faced the crescendo of modernism, and this could only be confronted head-on and negatively. But now the church has assumed a more positive posture. The last symptom of the old era was the encyclical Humani Generis.

What Ratzinger says is confirmed by what I heard a highly placed Catholic say in Rome, that the “era of Humani Generis lies in tile irretrievable past.” The period following 1910 was, according to Ratzinger, one in which Rome was deathly afraid of modern tendencies and suffered anti-modernism neurosis. Now, however, the church can stand with a dynamic posture in the world: not negative, but positive; not against things, but for things. It can proceed with dialogue with the separated brothers, and reach out toward the needs of the world and the divisions of the Church. Thus, he concludes, while there are few tangible results stemming from the first session, a certain grace has become manifest, a conversion that is surprising and that provides solid reason for optimism. The real turning point has been crossed.

I had occasion to hear the thoughts of Ratzinger expressed on that emotion-packed day in November which he calls the decisive day, and I had a strong sense that he was right. The first session of the council cannot be undone, and there is no reason to suppose that the new pope intends to try to change the direction taken there. There may well, however, be resistance from the side of those who are restless about the new course Rome is taking and who discern in this a serious threat for the very foundations of the church. These men especially fear the newer biblical research carried on at, among other places, Rome’s Pontifical Biblical Institute.

With this we touch on problems that are haunting Protestantism as well as Rome. In Catholicism they are bound up with the infallible teaching authority of the pope, of course, but this does not mean that the same problems cannot exist in another context. We may think of the questions raised by Bultmann, of the problems centering on the methods of “form criticism,” of the literary and historical criticism of the Bible, of the question of evolution and creation, and others—questions which are also occupying the concern of Roman theologians and which, for them, are complicated by the fact that they are considered under the shadow of several “infallibly” uttered dogmas.

At any rate, the coming session of the Second Vatican Council is likely to be of immense significance for Rome. There are, to be sure, those who feel that nothing can really change in Rome in view of the pretensions of infallibility and the so-called infallible expressions of the past. These people usually feel, therefore, that the apparent shifts in Rome are hardly worth noting. I am of the opinion that this negative position is too simple. The new streams of influence and thought in Rome call for our extremely close attention—for the sake of our concern for Rome, but also because the problems facing Rome are problems which our churches are far from having solved, and are very much a part of the relation between the Christian faith and the modern world.

Book Briefs: October 25, 1963

Absolute Demands From A Neutral Voice

Religion and the Schools: The Great Controversy, by Paul Blanshard (Beacon Press, 1963, 263 pp., $4.95), is reviewed by James Daane, editorial associate, CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

Paul Blanshard writes again in a field that he knows well. This time he tells the story of the recent Supreme Court decisions on prayer and Bible reading in the public schools. He is a good writer, and an informative one. But even those who agree with the recent decisions may find his support of the court less than convincing, for he argues with a passion more characteristic of a trial lawyer pleading a case than of an objective, scientific student of constitutional law.

Blanshard seems not too sure of himself when he confronts the argument that the framers of the First Amendment intended only to prevent government from establishing a preferred church, not to exclude all religion from government. He admits that the former was their primary intent. But he feels that exclusion of all religion from government and public institutions lies within the framers’ secondary intentions, and argues weakly that in any event the burden of proof lies with those who deny it. Why this is so, he does not show. Nor does he trouble himself about the elemental principle that the law allows what it does not prohibit. He simply and blandly asserts that “the Court is not altogether bound by the intentions of the authors of constitutional words when these words are very broad and when new circumstances may demand new principles of application.”

Here the principles of the Constitution are downgraded to mere “constitutional words.” And what, forsooth, are “new principles of application”? The Supreme Court is indeed obliged to apply the constitutional principles to ever-changing circumstances of our national life. But is the court free to make decisions based on principles other than those contained in the Constitution, and thereby add new principles to the Constitution? If the court’s recent decisions are to be regarded as constitutional, they must have a firmer basis in the First Amendment than Blanshard here suggests.

The author favors elimination of all religion from the government and from public institutions; yet in his absolutism he at this point wholly ignores the fact that it is impossible for either the government or the public school system to be absolutely neutral in religious matters. Since absolute neutrality is impossible, there is no perfect solution to what Blanshard, in absolutistic language, calls “eternal issues.” The most we can hope for is a practical, working compromise. If life is not to be compartmentalized into secular and religious, education cannot avoid becoming wholly secularistic unless it at least reckons with the religious factor. Every attempt at complete neutrality will be in fact a concession to secularism. For this problem Blanshard seems to have little or no sensitivity, and he completely ignores it in his book. While he has a relativistic view of the Constitution, he is blindly absolutistic about the most crucial problem of all. It is his absolutism which accounts for the naïve judgment that if people would only remember that “secular” means a school “not under church control,” and “secularist” means a person “who rejects every form of religious faith and worship.” then probably “three-fourths of the angry exchanges in religion-and-school controversy could be eliminated.…” His argument here calls for a definition of “secularism,” and evidence that education devoid of religion is not secularistic.

The fact is that Blanshard—lawyer and one-time public official—is himself far from religiously neutral in his legal analysis of the constitutionality of religion in public Schools. He is pleading his case neither as an objective journalist nor as a lawyer when he injects his personal religious views into his argument. Blanshard speaks of “a stiff-necked Puritan God who had the sexual philosophy later incarnated in Anthony Comstock”; he asserts also that the Bible presents the child with “incorrect history and outdated savagery in morals” and “pictures the God of the Old Testament as a God living at a level far below that of the Geneva Convention.”

One of the most serious aspects of the religion-in-the-school controversy, says Blanshard, “is the controversy over the actual truth or falsehood of the contents of the Bible.” Even the reading of the New Testament ought not to be allowed in the schools because “it abounds in disparaging comments about Jewish religious leaders.” Unitarian Blanshard believes that the murder of a man for such reasons as the Jewish leaders had does not warrant “disparaging comments.” Moreover, the New Testament, says Blanshard, “includes the entire range of sectarian Christian history from the magical features surrounding the birth of Jesus through the miracles of Jesus to the crucifixion, the resurrection and the ascension.” He further contends that the “most fundamental issue in the whole controversy” lies in the fact that the function of the public schools is to foster critical thinking. “If,” he urges, “the analysis [of the Bible] results in judgments hostile to orthodox beliefs, the result may be utterly unacceptable to a large part of the population.”

Apart from the fact that he does not want our public schools to exercise the rights of critical thinking in this area, and apart from his personal judgment that Christianity could not stand up under it, it is well to observe that he is now arguing against teaching Christianity in the public schools, and not about mere Bible reading and prayer. The latter has not through long years led to the dire situation he envisions. Nor has it led, we may add, to establishment of religion, prohibition of which all admit was at least the “primary” reason for the First Amendment; reading and prayers have merely indicated that our government and our public schools are on the side of Christianity as against any other religion. At this point Blanshard is not speaking of an actual Great Controversy, but is engaging in special pleading for the absolute elimination of all religion from public institutions and from government, and for an absolutist neutrality in which the government and schools of America will so relate themselves negatively to Christianity that they will be able to relate themselves equally to atheism and Christianity, Buddhism and Ethical Culturism. Such a positive relationship is inherently impossible, for it is as empty as the negation on which it rests. Even the government and the public school, each in its own fashion, are caught in the necessity of being for or against Christianity. In either case the “fashion” will be a kind of practical religious compromise. In neither case can it be absolute. Failure to recognize this is the greatest weakness in Blanshard’s position.

The recent decisions of the Supreme Court permit a better defense. Blanshard’s special pleading, his absolutism, and his impassioned injection of personal views on religion—on Christianity in particular—do much to incite those fears and criticisms of the court’s decisions which he himself so much decries. Fortunately the religious views of the majority of Protestants and Other Americans United for Separation of Church and State (for which Blanshard was formerly general counsel) are on another level. They are also less absolutistic. The critics of the Supreme Court and of POAU may well feel that having Blanshard as a friend, POAU does not need a foe.

JAMES DAANE.

Mirror Of Modern Thought

Encyclopaedia Britannica (Revised 1963 edition) (Encyclopaedia Britannica Inc., 24 vols., $398), is reviewed by Carl F. H. Henry, editor, CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

Whoever spends an evening with Encyclopaedia Britannica knows well that he virtually holds the classrooms of a liberal arts college in his hands. By any estimate the modern encyclopedia is a colossal catalogue of knowledge. Faced with the stupendous task of keeping pace with the swift gait of current scientific discovery and with the long sweep of passing centuries, no such literary effort can hope ever to produce an unrevisable work of unadulterated wisdom. But Encyclopaedia Britannica’s reputation as supreme among competitors was hard won and has long been held, and the 1963 revision of this 195-year-old reference set reflects a determination to maintain that distinction.

A colossal literary production, EB’s twenty-four volumes (averaging more than 1,000 pages each) would provide sixty-six years of reading at a page-a-day rate. The 9,000 contributing specialists are reputedly the equivalent of fifteen U. S. state universities. Staff editors do a minimum of writing and rewriting (now and then one finds that vexing initial X indicative of an anonymous contributor). Only about one-fourth of the content is not subject to change.

For three decades EB has practiced continuous editorial revision and annual publication rather than periodic new editions. In the last three years more than half the words in the entire set have been changed. The 1963 revisions involved ten million words (the equivalent of one hundred substantial books). For comprehensiveness and contemporaneity the revision claims a place in the minister’s library alongside the notable ninth edition of 1875–1889 and the eleventh and fourteenth editions of this century.

The very surface of EB reveals several characteristics of the world of modern learning. Ever-new scientific revisions are already calling for attention. If it is untrue that much learning has made us mad, it is patently true that this vast body of facts lacks comprehensive integration. EB inevitably reflects the breakdown of the unity of modern thought. The greatness of the ninth edition was in part a reflection of the light whereby Christianity illumines the range of human learning. Its editor, W. Robertson Smith, contributed almost fifty important articles on religious subjects. And there were evangelical giants like A. M. Fairbairn, Robert Flint, T. M. Lindsay, and William M. Ramsay to share the burden of religious scholarship along with mediating and liberal contributors.

Many of these early essays on biblical themes retained their relevance throughout the long night of liberalism, and even through the drab dawn of neoorthodoxy, the more so because intervening editions of EB conformed the exposition of central Christian concerns to the prevailing theological winds. But already in 1889 W. Robertson Smith had found it necessary to emphasize that no editor can possess the knowledge enabling him to control all subjects treated in an encyclopedia. And in his herculean task as editor-in-chief, Pulitzer prizeman Harry S. Ashmore faced a difficult problem in aligning a team of specialists to write in biblical-theological areas from firsthand knowledge. Very few evangelicals who have made their mark are, in fact, listed among the contributors, although Jaroslav Pelikan’s essays introduce a finer sense of historical objectivity into the treatment of several theological themes which, in recent editions of EB, had been colored and distorted by the nineteenth-century bias of speculative idealism. Where evangelical contributors are found, their assignments are mainly historical (as with Geoffrey W. Bromiley, Bruce M. Metzger, Donald J. Wiseman). It is probably accurate, moreover, to say that EB covers philosophy more thoroughly than theology. Contributors on biblical themes, furthermore, include such names from the past as R. H. Charles, G. R. Driver, A. E. Garvie, Adolf Harnack, and Baron F. von Hügel—their biases frequently shading essays.

To pick flaws in a monumental work of this caliber always poses the risk of understating its great and abiding values. One can assess its worth best by imagining one’s predicament if no such comprehensive reference set existed. But our task is to assess its adequacy especially from an evangelical Christian point of view, and its serviceability to the conservative clergy and thinking evangelicals generally.

If the modern secular man were to be confronted with the Christian claim for orientation of the whole of life to biblical priorities, the great themes of creation, incarnation, atonement, and resurrection would carry decisive significance in an encyclopedic work. Unless the Logos clearly appears as the divine agent in creation, revelation, redemption, sanctification, and judgment, the Christian arch-principle is presented only in a truncated manner.

In these respects EB 1963 both reflects and promotes the current uncertainty about historic Christian beliefs.

E. O. James contributes an essay on “Creation, Myths of” under which “Hebrew creation stories” are subsumed with special note of Babylonian affinities; far more space and credence are given the evolutionist expositions of “Cosmogony” (study of “evolutionary behavior of the universe and the origin of its various characteristic features”) and “Cosmology.” The age of the universe is put at 5,000,000,000 years (“if the universe was not created 5,000,000,000 years ago it was certainly very extensively reorganized at that time”). Most scientists now accept “an expanding universe” and not the “steady state cosmology” of Bondi, Gold, and Hoyle. Under “Adam and Eve,” James L. McKenzie writes that “the controversy between theologians and natural scientists … was the result of a tacit misunderstanding that the story was intended to convey historical and scientific information concerning human origins. Exegetes no longer understand the story in these terms.” These expositions of the biblical creation narrative not only adversely color the present theological situation, but also offer little effective roadblock to naturalistic views of origins.

Sewell Wright’s essay on “Organic Evolution” exhibits a great variety of theories, all ignoring the possibility of a supernaturalistic factor. Although evolutionary scientists have failed to come up with a theory that is universally accepted and that covers all the facts, they still ascribe a major role to natural selection and trial and error.

The theme of “Incarnation” is treated not under its own heading but under other headings (“Christianity,” “Hinduism,” and others). The virgin birth of Jesus Christ is presupposed in the essay on “Mary,” which now does fuller justice to Protestant reverence for the Virgin than did a previous essay. It is difficult to say where one would find a definitive statement of Christ’s death for sinners, although a few pointed yet guarded sentences occur in the brief essay on “Atonement,” which refers the reader for fuller treatment to the article on “Jesus Christ.” The revision of the latter essay is one of the bright gains of EB 1963; it both reflects a sounder historical instinct and advances beyond the idealistic bias in assessing the nature and work of Christ. Yet its contributor, Jaroslav Pelikan, comments that “Protestant theology in the middle of the 20th century was still searching for a doctrine of the Atonement to match its newly won insights into the doctrine of the person of Christ” (by which J. J. PN. means its replacement of “static categories of person, essence and nature” by an emphasis upon “actions and events”). No special essay appears on resurrection (the resurrection of Christ and of mankind are subsumed under other topics), but there is a brief essay on the near-eastern herb “Resurrection Plant.”

Under “Religion,” the section on the higher religions by George Galloway has been revised through three decades of exciting dialogue. It objectionably depicts all religions as emerging from primitive religion by a process of selection and development. There is no discussion of special revelation, and Buddhism and Christianity are treated alike as redemptive religions. A similar prejudice rules the essay on “Inspiration,” which A. E. Garvie thinks virtually synonymous with a state of religious exaltation or enthusiasm: the Bible’s inspiration is said to differ only in degree and not in kind from that of other sacred literature. The essayist finds objectionable any theory which involves correctness of theology and ethics in inspiration. The article does not reflect the debate since Barth over the inspiredness versus the inspiringness of Scripture. Garvie’s essay on “Miracle” is better. Yet even here the fact of miracle is supported by the evolutionary development of life, the connection between miracle-mode and miracle-fact is minimized, and the sign-character of biblical miracles is stressed at the expense of their seal-character.

The key essay on “Christianity,” however, represents one of the fine gains of EB 1963 over recent editions. The new essay by Pelikan is a welcome and long overdue replacement of the previous article, which showed the marks of Unitarian reconstruction and nineteenth-century liberal idealism in expounding the Christian religion. I he essay characterizes Christianity with full regard for the biblical data as a way of belief, a way of worship, and a way of life. Its slant is ecumenically open. Pelikan’s essay on “Protestant Reformation,” significantly, includes this comment; “Initially the Protestant Reformers maintained the hope that they could accomplish reformation of the doctrine and life of the church from within, but this proved impossible (again depending upon one’s position) either because of the intransigency of the church or because of the extremism of the Protestant movements or because of the political and cultural situation.” It is noteworthy to find an evangelical Lutheran scholar making the intransigency of the Roman church in Luther’s time a matter of one’s religious perspective. There are good survey articles on Calvin (by E. A. Dowey) and Luther (by James MacKinnon), although the former gets about one-third the space allotted Luther.

Stephen C. Neill’s essay on the “Ecumenical Movement” is well balanced and sound in its overall historical perspective. Its two sentences on “evangelical ecumenism” do not mention either the World Evangelical Fellowship or the International Council of Christian Churches, nor is any indication given of the vast missionary task force that remains unaligned with WCC. Although both this essay and that on the World Council of Churches stress that WCC is not a church, neither essay reflects the growing debate over whether it has genuine churchly attributes. Curiously, there is an essay on the Evangelical Alliance of Great Britain, but none on the National Association of Evangelicals (U. S.), which has a service constituency of ten million Protestants.

The modernist-fundamentalist clash is reflected only in terms of a generation ago. In his essay on “Modernism,” H. D. A. Major applies the term to all religious liberalism although some recent writers attempt to distinguish and contrast the terms. The article on “Fundamentalism” is by W. E. Garrison, who was professor of church history at the University of Chicago during its liberal-humanist era, and more recently professor of philosophy and religion at the University of Houston. The treatment is objective, but it finally dissolves fundamentalism into neoorthodoxy in the major denominations. (The term “liberal evangelical” is somewhat obscure, and the name of the American Baptist theologian should be corrected to A. H. Strong.) The content lags a half generation behind the neo-evangelical development, including the emergence of NAE, Fuller Theological Seminary, the Bible-college movement, and other phenomena. The context in which fundamentalism is characterized in the discussion of “Other Churches and Movements” under the essay “Christianity” is somewhat less than fair. Joseph Haroutunian’s essay on “Neo-Orthodoxy” is useful, particularly in its detailing of modernist emphases retained by neoorthodoxy, but it seems hardly appropriate to name Karl Barth (who deplored modernism as heresy) as one of its spokesmen, the more so when it is asserted that according to neoorthodox theologians (true as it may be of most) “Jesus was not born of a virgin.…” There are informative biographical essays on influential contemporary theologians including Barth (Hans W. Frei). Emil Brunner (Donald Day Williams). Reinhold Niebuhr (Will Herberg), and Rudolf Bultmann (Reginald Fuller), who has come to larger influence than the essay suggests. Curiously, there is no article on Paul Tillich, although the essay on Shailer Mathews (1863–1941) remains.

The essay on “Theism” (W. R. Matthews) holds that “several converging lines of thought form a cumulative argument which is difficult to resist,” but shifts prime support from demonstrative argument to “moral and religious experience.” Divine attributes like omnipotence and omniscience are treated in Schleiermacher’s mood. The exposition of pantheism and personality lacks a window on the Lotze-Bowne-Brightman personalistic tradition. Since the essay’s perspective is speculative rather than revelational theism, there is no reflection of the renewed neoorthodox emphasis on divine initiative, nor of the current theological debate over the relation of love and righteousness to the core of God’s being. Matthews lists creation as an essential divine attribute.

The exposition of biblical books varies in standpoint and mood according to the critical stance of the contributors. The Pentateuch is approached within the old J,E,P,D documentary hypothesis about which scholars like Cyrus Gordon have raised serious doubts in widening circles. The essay on Genesis (S. A. Cook) rejects Genesis 1–11 as genuine history, yet assigns the chapters “distinct value as human documents” that reflect “the ideas and thoughts of the Hebrews” and “relative moral and spiritual superiority” over Babylonian writings. Genuine “pre-Mosaic history” is arbitrarily ruled out. Under “Flood” (André Parrot) the deluge is catalogued with other legends and the Genesis account considered a fusion of two late traditions whereby the Hebrew writers (J and P) reshaped a Babylonian tradition and added a religious and moral meaning. In another of Cook’s essays, “Moses,” that person is conceded to be the founder of Israel’s nationality and of Israel’s religion, but we are told that details of Israel’s legal and cultural institutions were later “traced back to the great hero.” Elsewhere the character of the “Exodus” (J. C. Rylaarsdam) as a testimony of faith is stressed, based on escape from Egypt somewhere north of the Red Sea. But “this event was far less obtrusive in the ancient near eastern scene … than the biblical account seems to imply”; “a very ordinary occurrence” became for Israel “the event of revelation.” The article on “Prophecy” (W. A. L. Elmslie) brings ethical monotheism into existence through the eighth-century prophets, but leaves open the earlier possibility of monolatry (one God worthy of worship among many) in Moses’ time. The revelational factor in prophecy is highly obscured: “It is true that the Hebrew prophet says, never ‘I saw,’ ‘I know,’ but ‘the Lord shewed me,’ ‘Thus saith Jehovah.’ Explanation is found in the psychological ideas which he shared with his contemporaries.”

The New Testament books are sighted through a variety of critical lenses. The essay “Gospel of John” reflects the mystical idealism of Baron F. von Hügel (1852–1925), who tends to emphasize the pneumatic character of the book at the expense of the historical (the raising of Lazarus becomes allegory). He places its authorship at the end of the first century and attributes both the Gospel and Revelation to John the Presbyter (rather than the evangelist). There is here no reflection of the discovery of the Rylands fragment, or of the bearing of the Essene writings linking key concepts in this Gospel with them rather than with later Greek motifs, or of the recent reaction against late dating to a position which even nominates this Gospel as earliest of the four. Under “John, the Epistles of” James Moffatt assigns Second and Third John and Revelation likewise to John the Presbyter. P. Gardner-Smith rejects the Petrine authorship of Second Peter and dates it in the middle of the second century. Benjamin W. Bacon tells us that James is not from “the Lord’s brother” but, along with Jude, is a pseudonymous production which misnames the apostle as author to assure its authority. Bacon’s treatment of the Thessalonian epistles is much more acceptable, and shows a fuller interest in the actual content of the writings. Moffatt’s exposition of Romans does not adequately expound Paul’s doctrine of justification by faith alone, which comes through somewhat more clearly in M. S. Enslin’s essay on Galatians. For Hebrews, J. V. Bartlet suggests a date of A.D. 61–62 and comments that the letter “shares with Romans the right to be styled ‘the first treatise of Christian theology.’ ” The exposition of Bible content is less speculative than the development of authorship, and in not a few cases this exposition will be illuminating and rewarding even to the Bible scholar.

There are serviceable essays on off-beat religious developments including Adventism, Christian Science, Latter Day Saints, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and Moral Rearmament (which W. H. Clark credits as “the most vital interfaith religious movement of the age”). No essay appears on Black Muslims, who now claim 200,000 members in the United States.

Theoretical atheism is today probably more widespread than the essay on “Atheism” allows (cf. the recent assessment by Ignace Lapp, Atheism in Our Time), though the contributor shows a wholesome awareness of the range of practical atheism in modern life. Just at this point of modern unbelief one may lament the fact that Christian realities do not shine through this momentous encyclopedia in fuller radiance. Just as the saving events of the New Testament were not “done in a corner,” but served notice on all generations to get ready for “that day,” so the claim of Christ, once taken seriously, must inevitably assert itself beyond isolated segments of an encyclopedia. The sounder historical exposition found in the revision of essays on “Jesus Christ” and “Christianity” holds promise that while a general encyclopedia cannot allow unanimous authority to any single theological perspective, it can put a premium on solid historical orientation above contemporary prejudices. The extension of this principle throughout the essays in the religious classification will greatly enhance a reference work which has become almost indispensable to the library of serious scholars.

CARL F. H. HENRY

Love Without The Person

The Finality of Faith, by Nels F. S. Ferré (Harper & Row, 1963, 115 pp., $2.75), is reviewed by Warren C. Young, professor of Christian philosophy, Northern Baptist Theological Seminary, Chicago, Illinois.

This book consists of two sections: “The Finality of Faith” and “Christianity Among the World Religions.” The author, professor of Christian theology at Andover Newton Theological Seminary, begins by dealing with faith in a general fashion and then with Christian faith in the world today. Although the book may appear small, it contains a great deal of significant material.

Dr. Ferré shows, first, the importance of faith in every life. We all walk by faith, for no one is able to claim ultimate knowledge. Within the Christian framework, however, certain movements have not always recognized this fact. Indeed, he sees the desire for too much knowledge as the basic error of fundamentalism, creedalism, Catholicism, and liberalism.

All faith has three basic elements: it is (1) rooted in a heritage, (2) watered by history, anti (3) grown in hope. The author endeavors to show how faith may be distorted when these elements are not in proper balance.

Christian faith today finds itself engaged in a struggle with other faiths. A world tour brought home to Dr. Ferré the living reality of the struggle in which we are engaged.

Two very live options among world religions are challenging Christian faith—Hinduism and Buddhism. Both have become missionary movements, both are attractive, and both are gaining a considerable following. Dr. Ferré is not alone in pointing to the reality of the challenge confronting Christianity today.

This brings us to the heart of the problem and to the purpose of the book. To meet the challenge of these other faiths, Christian missionaries must understand and present the true Christian option.

But, we may ask, has not this been done for centuries? Not according to Dr. Ferré. Instead, what most Christian leaders seem to have been doing is challenging the world with a pseudo-Christianity.

What, then, must be done? To meet the challenge of today, Christianity, first of all, must give up its idolatry—the substitution of Jesus for God (p. 48). From that point on the discussion centers in the area of Christology. What is the true meaning of the Incarnation?

In order to understand Dr. Ferré’s point, one must understand his idea of the Incarnation. The Incarnation is not the personal Word of God (the Second Person of the Trinity) become flesh, but the very nature of God (Agape) entering in all fullness into a very human person, Jesus of Nazareth. Dr. Ferré is a monotheist, but not a Trinitarian in the usual sense of the term. His position, made very clear in The Christian Faith (pp. 99 ff.) and Christ and the Christian, is reemphasized here.

As he relates Christianity to world religions, Dr. Ferré pleads for a Jesus as the Christ who is normative for them all (p. 90). By this he apparently means that as men grasp the Agape truth (understanding the universal love of God), they become Christians. This central truth is denied, he thinks, by the doctrine of an eternal heaven and hell—a teaching not Christian at all, since it is contradictory to the Agape principle, though widely taught in contemporary Christianity.

Jesus, as a man, is subject to all experiences of sin, repentance, and victory (p. 102), but Jesus as the Christ is the symbol of God’s great work in history, for in Jesus is seen the fullness of Agape. The author writes that “Christ is also realized in others preparatorily before and consummatorily after Jesus and is to be realized in all men according to God’s eternal purpose in God’s eternal reaches of time” (p. 109). Today, the Christian missionary may go forth and proclaim a universal gospel; that is, he may feel free to accept the teaching of any religion which does not deny or contradict the universal love of God. Understanding and committing oneself to Agape seems to have completely replaced personal commitment to Christ.

We do not understand the mystery of the Incarnation. Yet, it does seem quite clear that Professor Ferré’s Christology falls far short of the “Vere Deus, vere homo” teaching of the Church. For most Christians Jesus, the Christ, is more than the symbol of Agape in history; he is the living God who entered into history to redeem it from its sin and corruption. We could wish for Professor Ferré more of the faith about which he writes.

WARREN C. YOUNG

A Good One

The Epistle to the Romans, by John R. Richardson and Knox Chamblin (Baker, 1963, 166 pp., $2.95), is reviewed by Robert Strong, minister, Trinity Presbyterian Church, Montgomery, Alabama.

No wonder Romans continues to attract the expositor, for it is the most important book in the Bible. Here in the series entitled “Proclaiming the New Testament” (Ralph G. Turnbull, general editor) is a study of Romans that is especially useful for the Bible-class teacher and the layman. One of the authors is among the ablest and most distinguished pastors of the Southern Presbyterian church, and the other a promising young scholar and candidate for an Oxford doctorate.

Each chapter of the epistle is treated in terms of the historical setting, the expository meaning, the doctrinal value, the practical aim, the homiletical form. The material in the last of these divisions constitutes the notable feature of the work.

The authors are crystal clear in their insistence that the death of Christ was a propitiatory sacrifice and that God declares believing sinners righteous on the basis of the imputed merit of Christ, a merit compounded of his perfect obedience in life and of his submissive obedience in an atoning death. The doctrine of unconditional election is set forth without reservation or equivocation when the discussion reaches Romans 8 and 9. Romans 11 is interpreted as predicting an eventual large-scale conversion of the Jews, but the clause “so all Israel shall be saved” is held to mean not all the Jewish people as a race, but all the Jews and Gentiles who come to repentance and faith.

The book is heartily recommended and should find wide use.

ROBERT STRONG

No Huckster Of Cheap Grace

He Speaks the Word of God: A Study of the Sermons of Norman Vincent Peale, by Allan R. Broadhurst (Prentice-Hall, 1963, 106 pp., $4.50), is reviewed by Richard C. Halverson, minister, Fourth Presbyterian Church, Washington, D. C.

This very readable book is an excellent refresher in homiletics. The preacher will find many usable ideas, some perhaps never gotten in seminary, which come from the broad experience of Dr. Peale, whose passion to communicate with modern secular man is thoroughly realized. For the man who aspires to preach without notes but has never quite dared, Dr. Peale’s counsel will be encouraging and helpful: “… the minister should speak extemporaneously whenever possible. He should carefully prepare a pattern or sequence of ideas and leave the exact expression of those ideas to the inspiration of the moment.” “Dr. Peale ‘picturizes’ the outline of his sermon rather than ‘memorizes’ it.”

Critics of Dr. Peale, who base their criticism largely on his best seller, The Power of Positive Thinking, will here discover that there is a great deal more depth to his ministry than is ordinarily assumed. His concern for relevance may at times cause over-emphasis on psychological rather than spiritual dynamics; this Dr. Peale himself acknowledges. Despite this, however, his ministry does confront the deep, basic issues of sin and redemption. Contrary to general opinion, he is not willing to pander “cheap grace.” This brief volume will help build a sharp edge of concern for pulpit and pastoral realism and relevance.

The author devotes one chapter to balanced evaluation of Dr. Peale’s ministry: by his critics and by his friends. The biographical material, though brief, is illuminating and inspiring. The critique of Dr. Peale’s sermons is based upon interesting criteria which may well serve the preacher-reader with some penetrating insights into his own preaching.

In this day of explosive social issues the reader will here find some direction which may save him from many of the tempting digressions which so often draw the modern preacher away from the basic concerns of the Gospel.

RICHARD C. HALVERSON

Book Briefs

Meet the American Jew, edited by Belden Menkus (Broadman, 1963, 164 pp., $3.75). Informative writings about the American Jew: his religion and religious divisions, his background, his outlook on social problems. Written by Jews (eleven), about Jews, for Christian readers. The editor is a Baptist.

Faith and Order Findings, edited by Paul S. Minear (Augsburg, 1963, 228 pp., $4.50). Book includes the four reports (Christ and the Church. Tradition and Traditions, Worship, and Institutionalism) presented to the Fourth World Conference on Faith and Order (Montreal, 1963)—the results of ten years of study. Should be of special interest to those concerned with the movements of theological thought within the World Council of Churches.

Mama Was a Missionary, by Charles Ludwig (Warner. 1963, 192 pp., $2.95). A well-written account of the author’s mother’s colorful life of missionary service in Kenya, Africa. With a jacket that may distract you.

Saint Augustine: The Trinity, translated by Stephen McKenna, Vol. 45 of “The Fathers of the Church, A New Translation” (Catholic University of America Press, 1963, 539 pp., $7.95). Augustine’s fifteen books on the Trinity; about them he wrote, “I began the books on the Trinity as a young man, but published them as an old man.”

Profiles of Church Youth, by Merton P. Strommen (Concordia, 1963, 356 pp., $5.95). A comprehensive Lutheran Youth Research effort which questioned 3,000 youths and discovered that the problems of youth are not necessarily what adults frequently think, nor the ones pastors are attempting to solve. A valuable study for youth leaders.

Moments of Meditation from Matthew Henry, compiled by Fredna Bennett (Zondervan, 1963, 384 pp., $3.95). Gems of devotional reading, one for each day of the year, gleaned from the commentaries of Matthew Henry. Religious meat in digestible form.

These Things I Remember, by Gerhard E. Frost (Augsburg, 1963, 127 pp., $2.95). Recollections of little experiences are used as points of departure for driving home spiritual lessons about the deeper levels of life. Sixty short, sprightly written vignettes of fine devotional character.

Faith for a Time of Storm, by T. Cecil Myers (Abingdon, 1963, 155 pp., $3). Warm evangelical devotional essays resting on some spongy theological foundations—a criticism which will little trouble the author, since he regards Christian experience as a more ultimate authority than the Scriptures.

In the Steps of John Wesley, by Frederick C. Gill (Abingdon, 1963, 240 pp., $5). To fill the gap of a comprehensive account of extant Wesley landmarks and relics, this books deals topographically with Wesley’s journeys. First printed in England in 1962.

The Renewal of the Ministry, by Thomas J. Mullen (Abingdon, 1963, 143 pp., $3). Author questions the traditional distinctive function of the clergy and challenges them to be the catalytic agent that sets the laymen to work. While some will question his remedy, he writes much about a sick ministry that makes good sense. Garnished with good humor and wit.

The Secret of Communion With God, by Matthew Henry (Revell, 1963, 120 pp., $2.50). Three essays.

Secrets From the Caves: A Layman’s Guide to the Dead Sea Scrolls, by Thurman Coss (Abingdon, 1963, 171 pp., $3). Informative material presented by question-and-answer method. The author contends that the scrolls do not threaten the Christian religion. His reason—as the laymen (for whom he writes) had best observe—is not the absence of threatening material in the scrolls, but the contention that the Christian religion has no more basis in the scrolls than it has in the Old Testament. What the scrolls do not do, author Coss does.

24 Hours to Live, by Minton Johnston (Abingdon, 1963, 112 pp., $2.25). Light, fast-moving devotional messages, earlier presented on radio.

Growing With Your Children, by Ray F. Koonce (Broadman. 1963, 134 pp., $2.95). The author writes helpfully about children-parent relationships as he came to recognize them in the problems of college students with whom he counseled. The average parent could read this book with profit for the entire family.

Christmas in Bethlehem and Holy Week at Mount Athos, by Christopher Rand (Oxford University Press, 1963, 168 pp., $4). A readable and informative account of Christmas observances in Bethlehem by the several Christian communities, and of the Greek Orthodox Church’s colorful holy-week observance in northern Greece.

The New Testament: A New Translation in Plain English, by Charles Kingsley Williams (Eerdmans, 1963, 572 pp., $3.95). Said to be the simplest translation of the New Testament ever made. Uses few words not contained in the 1,500 common English words used in basic speech.

A Philosophy of God, by Thomas Gornall, S. J. (Sheed and Ward, 1963, 181 pp., $3.95). Written primarily, though not exclusively, for Roman Catholic seminarians. Jacket suggests that the author has an eye for Barth and Tillich, yet they are only mentioned—once, together, in one paragraph, in the Introduction.

The Biblical Doctrine of Virginity, by Lucien Legrand (Sheed and Ward, 1963. 167 pp., $3.50). For those interested in a theology of virginity as conceived and developed by one Roman Catholic father. Protestants may find this an interesting combination of ideas, and the book itself profitable, for there is a biblical teaching about virginity.

Schools of the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod, by August C. Stellhorn (Concordia, 1963, 507 pp., $6.75). The history of Christian schools in Missouri Synod Lutheranism. Of importance to Lutherans and to all who have or are interested in Christian day schools.

Secular Religions in France, 1815–1870, by D. G. Charlton (Oxford, 1963, 250 pp., $5.60). A survey of the revolt against the Bible and the Church, and the upsurge of social, scientific, metaphysical, and occult systems of faith—spawned by such figures as Darwin and Comte in nineteenth-century France. Throws light on the religious background and situation in America.

The Church as the Body of Christ, Vol. I, edited by Robert S. Pelton (University of Notre Dame, 1963, 145 pp., $2.95). Five lectures, three by Roman Catholics and two by Protestants, given at a colloquium at the University of Notre Dame. The three Roman Catholics discuss the Church as the “Body of Christ” as it appears in Scripture, patristic thought, and contemporary Roman Catholic thought. Franklin Little discusses the same subject from the perspective of the free churches, and K. E. Skydsgaard, a Lutheran, from the evangelical view.

News Worth Noting: October 25, 1963

The Army’S Choice

Just after Victoria had celebrated her semi-jubilee as queen, the Methodist William Booth stood in a slum area of London and resolved to bring the Gospel to the irreligious multitudes of Darkest England. Last month, ninety-eight years later, leaders of the world’s five million Salvationists converged on Britain to elect their eighth general. In a Sunbury mansion, twenty miles up the Thames from London, they chose Frederick L. Coutts, 64, a Scot who for the past six years has served in Eastern Australia. Officer of the Royal Flying Corps in World War I, Coutts later became principal of the Salvation Army Training College in London, and is one of the movement’s intellectuals. Though the Army’s insurance society alone has funds totaling some $65 million, the new general’s annual salary is a mere $2,800. While his election was under discussion, a lorry knocked flat on its back a statue erected to William Booth in London’s East End.

Protestant Panorama

Evangelist Billy Graham and former Prime Minister John Diefenbaker of Canada will be among principal speakers at the 150th anniversary celebration of North American Baptists in Atlantic City next May. The three-day event will follow simultaneous sessions of the American Baptist and Southern Baptist Conventions.

A joint agency to coordinate higher education overseas was established at the first combined conference held by the Evangelical Foreign Missions Association and the Interdenominational Foreign Mission Association. The two groups, which together represent a task force of some 14,000 missionaries, also agreed at their meeting in Winona Lake, Indiana, to publish a quarterly world missions journal.

The Baptist World Alliance says it has acquired, in cooperation with the District of Columbia Baptist Convention, more than $1,000,000 worth of real estate along Sixteenth Street in Washington. The property may be used to erect a BWA headquarters building or sold so that another site can be purchased for office space.

A $3,000,000 fund drive is under way in behalf of the proposed Friends World College following successful completion of an experimental program last summer at Brookville, New York. Establishment of the undergraduate college is being sponsored by a group of New York Quakers organized as the Friends World College Committee.

Miscellany

Five Roman Catholic prelates, including Archbishop Josef Beran of Prague, were freed by the Czechoslovak government this month after twelve years of detention.

Church World Service was reported negotiating for the dispatch of relief supplies to hurricane-torn Haiti and Cuba. Government restrictions in the two countries impeded direct aid shipments.

Ten ultra-Orthodox Jewish youths charged with rioting at Christian schools in Jaffa received six-month suspended sentences and fines of $33 to $66 in an Israeli court.

The Board of Education of Hawthorne, New Jersey, is appealing a Superior Court ruling against Bible reading and prayer in the jurisdiction’s six schools.

Personalia

Dr. Ralph C. John named president of Methodist-related Simpson College, Indianola, Iowa.

The Rev. Leonard G. Clough appointed general secretary of the National Student Christian Federation.

Deaths

DR. ARTHUR B. WHITING, 58, dean of the faculty and professor of English Bible at Western Conservative Baptist Theological Seminary; in Tigard, Oregon.

DR. JOSHUA O. WILLIAMS, 53, minister of the 4,500-member Salem Methodist Church in Manhattan; in New York City.

DR. ALBERT C. DIEFFENBACH, 87, retired editor of Unitarian publications; in Mystic, Connecticut.

MRS. RYLLIS GOSLIN LYNIP, 62, author of religious books; in Philadelphia.

Dr. Ralph Stoody, dean of religious publicists, will retire next spring as general secretary of the Methodist Commission on Public Relations and Methodist Information. His successor is Dr. Arthur West.

The Rev. Norman Lewis named president of the King’s Garden, multi-faceted evangelical enterprise in Seattle.

The noted English Christian scholar C. S. Lewis is recuperating from a heart attack at his Oxford, England, home.

The Rev. John DeBrine, 34, noted Baptist youth leader, named director of Youtharama, the Philadelphia evangelistic ministry begun under the late Percy Crawford.

Dr. Joost de Blank, Anglican archbishop of Capetown, South Africa, noted for his opposition to apartheid, is resigning for reasons of health and will return to Britain later this year to become a canon of Westminster.

Bishop Stephen F. Bayne, Jr., first executive officer of the worldwide Anglican communion, is resigning from the post to become director of the Protestant Episcopal Church’s Overseas Department.

Harold A. Smith elected president of Lutheran Brotherhood, fraternal life insurance society.

Dr. John W. Bachman elected chairman of the National Council of Churches’ Broadcasting and Film Commission.

The Rev. J. Kenneth Nielsen resigned as general secretary of Rural Bible Crusade National. He is succeeded by the Rev. Gordon B. Kemble.

Worth Quoting

“A large segment of our society would like to sit around until there are some specific conclusions. But we can’t wait.”—The Rev. W. Carter Merbreier, pastor of the Messiah Lutheran Church, Philadelphia, where educators and clergymen joined city officials in burning salacious magazines seized by police.

“We think that by calling it a ‘Festival of Faith,’ it will be more meaningful to members of all denominations. We want to witness to Christian unity. The Reformation of Luther dealt with only a particular part.”—The Rev. Harold F. Koch, in announcing the re-designation of the Detroit Council of Churches’ annual Reformation Day rally.

About This Issue: October 25, 1963

The concept of evangelism has long been a source of controversy in the larger denominations. Three essays in this issue deal with it. Jesse Hays Baird discusses evangelism in terms of conversion, decision, and repentance. Edmund W. Robb takes a look into the soul of Methodism and gives denominational leaders some points to ponder in anticipation of the quadrennial General Conference in Pittsburgh next April. L. David Cowie reviews Billy Graham’s Los Angeles crusade.

Continuing discussion of the racial problem, William Henry Anderson, Jr., criticizes evangelicals for dragging their feet. Now, he says, the white churchman must get out and meet the Negro on the common ground of humanity.

Luther on Broadway

For all its intense acting and moments of high drama, John Osborne’s Luther is more entertainment than a sensitive portrayal of the man who described God as a “bulwark never failing.”

The Reformation themes of salvation by grace and Scripture as sole authority have perhaps never been so clearly preached by the American theater. Yet here all essential resemblance to the Luther of history ends. The play is disappointing, for Osborne sees Luther on a couch rather than in a confessional and has psychoanalyzed him in the modern manner rather than taken the gauge of his true spiritual struggle. Luther appears as an individualist striking against authority in order to be himself, a man for whom salvation is deliverance from an unhappy father-relationship and for whom sin is something like the social indelicacy of “breaking air.”

Osborne’s Luther is not a sinner caught in the moment of God’s wrath; his error is rather that he is angry at God. The peace he finds stems not from justification by faith. It stems rather from his marriage to a former nun, and seems to render more tolerable a religious uncertainty which continues to haunt his soul until the very end.

In the first of the play’s three acts Luther enters the Augustinian order against his father’s wishes and celebrates his first mass. Here he distinguishes and separates himself from his fellow monks by movements more like the spasms of an epileptic than the movements of a soul stirred by guilt and an awe of the sacrament. When his conflict with Rome is over, Luther, on being asked whether he is certain that he was in the right when at the Diet of Worms he stood by Scripture against the Church, quietly and weakly says, “No.” And at the play’s end. Osborne’s Luther is not even sure that life follows death. To his child in arms, he quotes. “A little while and ye shall not see me, and again, a little while and ye shall see me”—and then adds, “Let’s hope so, let’s just hope so.” This is hardly the Luther who touched off the Reformation.

Luther does not get beyond the religious uncertainties of his father; his final cry of hope only echoes his father’s defiance flung into the face of death, to the effect that he had another child “coming up from beneath the counter.”

Osborne conceives of Luther’s salvation in excessively Freudian terms. The earthly rather than the heavenly father seems to be the problem. His father accuses him of fleeing to the monastery to escape life and to forget that his father and mother made him. At one point Luther defines his sin as the lust for the body of a child, and looking back over his life he admits that in a moment of introspection he envisioned a huge rat reaching to consume the man of him. The repeated references to Luther’s intestinal cramps and constipation often occur at the play’s most spiritual moments, leaving the impression that perhaps a good sixteenth-century laxative would have done as much to set men free as salvation by grace. All these problems seem resolved when at the end Luther happily holds his child and kisses his wife Katie good night. But all this does little to explain the religious depths of the man who initiated the Reformation.

If the play distorts the Reformer by too much explaining him in terms of things which lie below the heart, it no less distorts the Roman Catholic Church by making it appear as little more than a big Tetzel.

The play has many dramatic and even tender moments, but it never lingers long with the realities which were Luther and the Reformation. It gets nearest to ecclesiastical-religious realities when Cajetan, the papal legate, attempts to bring Luther in line by the use of all the cunning wisdom of the organization-man. When Luther expresses willingness to recant only if he is shown that he is in error, Cajetan condemns him as arrogant. The church, he says, would be sure of nothing if it had to rely on Scripture alone.

The Luther now on Broadway is in all dimensions too narrowly and superficially drawn.

The Silence Of Pius Xii

Why did Pius XII not make specific protest during World War II when Hitler embarked on the massacre of millions of Jews?

“I must ask you to forgive my son, Holiness,” says Count Fontana to the pope; “he was an eyewitness in Berlin, as the Nazis were loading Jewish children on to lorries.…” “Eyewitness!” exclaims Pius. “Count, a diplomat must see a great deal and—say nothing.” This exchange from Rolf Hochhuth’s play The Representative both summarizes the theme and explains why the 31-year-old German Protestant’s play has aroused such bitter controversy.

In Berlin when it was first shown last February 5,000 people joined in a protest march; in Basel it was responsible for angry crowds, a torchlight procession, a number of arrests, and six interruptions of the performance. Plans for a Dutch showing have been canceled. In Britain the Lord Chamberlain sanctioned it after some alterations had been made, but “requested” that the theater program incorporate a long letter to the Roman Catholic Tablet from the present pope (when he was still Archbishop of Milan), who made this objection with no firsthand knowledge of the play. When the drama was presented in London last month by the Royal Shakespeare Company, the whole of the action was set within the framework of an extermination gas chamber, even when the scene is the papal throne room. The unspoken indictment here is more dreadful than any verbal charge.

The young actor who portrays Adolf Eichmann (he appears only briefly) has received threats of physical violence and was placed under police protection. The Catholic Truth Society weighed in with a pamphlet accusing Hochhuth of an “obsessive dislike” of Pius. Says the editor of the Catholic Herald: “Catholics do not hold that Popes are infallible in matters like this and many eminent people, including some Catholics, believe he (Pius) was wrong. It is possible that a public protest would have forced Hitler to modify the persecution.”

Just prior to the play’s opening in London, the Royal Shakespeare Company released a statement of endorsement from Dr. Albert Schweitzer, the famed medical missionary in Africa. Schweitzer reportedly said the play “is not only an historical judgment but an alarm call to our age which is sinking into inhumanity and unawareness.” Concerning Nazi atrocities, he said, “We are all guilty today for the reason that we were guilty then.… The Catholic Church bears the greatest guilt because as a great international organization she could have taken some action.”

J. D. DOUGLAS

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