USA > Indiana > Vanderburgh County > Evansville > Foundation stones, of the Church of the Unity, Evansville, Indiana > Part 8
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apparent mischief of this oppresses us-I have been during the past week taking a lesson of nature that will probably influence my future preaching. Now do not think for a moment that I intend to deny the truth because it is so hard for many to believe it. Nature never lies. She is always true to herself and her future good. The leaves must fall-their work is done-their place is wanted for the development of the new bud or life ; cling to them as we will, the frosts are sure to come and take away their strength, and then the winds will follow and bear them away mournfully to their last resting place. But how tenderly she does her work-how gradually she approaches it-how she gathers about it a new and richer beauty in the charm and witchery of these autumn days, as though in her kindness and tenderness for our feelings she exerts every effort to make us feel the loss just as little as possible. So in this work of bearing away the old dead formulas of yesterday, in order to make room for the new life and thought of to-day, let us show the same sympathy and kindness towards those of whom we despoil of their cherished idols, bringing into prominence the hope of a new life, display in the richest coloring possible the kindness and gratitude we entertain for the old for the work it has done, but still firmly as well as gently go on making a place for the new. As God turns the very hearts of our enemies towards us when we stand about our dead, so let us speak gently and kindly to those who feel that, in losing their old doctrines, they are being separated from long-loved and true friends.
The next thought that came to me, as I gazed on the fallen leaves, was their work is done; they have fulfilled the design of their life, and what more can they or any one ask? They have been through spring and summer, each one a part of the world's beauty ; each leaf has contributed to the loveliness of the sum- mer landscape. They have thus gladdened the hearts of mil- lions, produced emotions in the hearts of sentient and spiritual beings that will live on forever in the kingdom of the good, the true and the beautiful, contributed to the new life that has been forming all through the summer days and nights down there at the root of the stem, and so they will live on in the new life and beauty of each succeeding year. The real life of the leaf has been taken into that new bud which, in its secluded dwelling
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place, will defy the winter's frost and snow, and in order to secure the value of the winter-which, in its own true way, is as much needed as the summer-is not this, perhaps, the only way to bridge the gulf, to sacrifice the old shell and carry the true life over into the next spring and summer and every succeeding one. And so I thought why should we mourn ? Surely He who gives us the seasons, the things for use and pleasure that crown the year with. gladness and plenty, doeth all things well. And so may not all this be true of this strange mystery of death that will soon cut short our earthly life? The mission of the leaf is to perpetuate and keep alive the vegetation or plant life of the earth. So think for a moment of the physical life of man as devoted to the production of that quality of life we call soul. And does not death find as fitting and appropriate place in the plan as anything else if the end and purport of all things is the production of soul-life ? Mystery, when freed from superstition, may have a very reasonable relation to our lives and serve the purpose of a ministering angel to give to the soul shades of beauty which no plain fact could produce. Did you ever try to think how much of the worth and goodness-that lives and grows in the human heart-is nourished by these hours of mourning and sympathy we spend about these constant evidences of our mor- tality ? To root out vanity and destroy egotism-to lead the erring feet of the thoughtless back into the way of wisdom-I can conceive of nothing more powerful than death. When the fever flush is on the brow of our children, we kiss them more tenderly and strain them to our bosoms with a more passionate love. And when our loved ones are indeed taken from us, the willow and cypress that mourn over their tombs impress our hearts the more deeply, because the wind that sighs through them and the sombre shade they cast help us to bridge the gulf between us and the unknown home of the soul. Thus death ministers to the development of faith, the foundation of all spir- itual strength. Why, then, should we be bitter in our com- plainings against this end of every life? Shall we not rather rejoice that we have been permitted to live, and when the ripened lives of those we love fall away from us, find hope and comfort in the midst of our sadness through these lessons the leaves bring to us in the autumn days ? May not this thought apply
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especially to the great man of our State, whose death we mourn? When a man devotes himself, like Senator Morton, to the public weal, he becomes, as it were, related to the people. His death is not simply the loss of his family, but of the whole nation. He goes not from us, however, without having crowned his life with noble endeavors and accomplished deeds. The history of this country will bear his name and memory wreathed with the laurels of a worthy fame down to all posterity. His life and work have passed into the character of this nation to bear their influence to the last year of its life. Thousands have been inspired to do their duty through his earnest words and heroic example. In the dark days of the nation's struggle with rebellion, whoever was right or wrong-for there were honest and true men on both sides-Oliver P. Morton, as Governor of Indiana, towered as a giant in the conflict and made for himself a name that will be a part of the undying glory of this State, and will be uttered reverently by millions yet unborn. I am glad that when he was asked if he was afraid to die that he made that noble answer: "I have tried to live right." I hope that the time is not far distant when this miserable distrust of the future will cease to make more trying these sad and sacred hours of the final parting on earth from those we love above all earthly treasures, when men will cease to degrade God to the associa- tion of his nature with a diabolical vengeance, as though His, heart leaped with the miserable passion of a relentless foe tri- umphing over His victim-when he gets a man on his death-bed, who in his life has been too hard pressed with the wants of man and needs of the present to trouble himself about the claims of God or the future. And yet I meet men who tell me that our religious views may be very good to live by, but that when we are on our death-beds they will fail us. This may be in all honesty and love to us, still I don't know how to express my utter contempt for all such views of God. But what I want to say here is, that if we live right we need not be afraid to die. If we do our part as a single leaf in the great forest of human life, when the falling time comes we may let go our hold on this life as fearlessly as the leaf falls to the ground. Our work on earth is done, and He who takes care of the grass of the field and every leaf of the forest will not forget us. But as I con-
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tinued to look at the leaves in their application to this thought, it came to me is there not a break in this analogy ? It would be all well enough if each life served its turn like these leaves. But then we know that many do not live out half their time; Yea! that in the very morning of life many of them are blighted and consumed with the fires of passion and vice, to say nothing of the tender buds that never open out into consciousness of their own existence. But then it came to me, so it is with the leaves. Many are blighted in the very springtime ; others wither before the scorching sun of summer-and how many a noble branch goes crashing down to death like a ship at sea, with all on board, before the tempest's blast. And then I bethought me how the cool days of spring are necessary, that nip the young leaves, to keep back the grain crops, and how it is said that it is through breasting the storm that the roots about the tree are loosened, and it is enabled to strike them deeper, and then rise up into nobler strength and richer life. So I thought, here is my miss- ing link. Thus the leaves that are blighted in the cold and stormy rain of springtime, or beneath the summer's scorching sun, or go down before the lightning's hurtling stroke, or the hurricane's blast, are united to and contribute their share toward the glory, honor and beauty of these autumn days. So I thought, is every successful human life in some way indebted to the failures of others? If there were no low lands there could be no mountains. If there was no one below us to call out our patience and hopefulness, our race would never be crowned with such helpful, saving lives as those of Confucius, Buddha and Jesus. It is by helping to bear the burdens of the weak, tempted and fallen of our race by which we can rise to the sub- lime heights of self-sacrifice, bear the cross, and so find the way, the truth and the life which Jesus saw would lead any one into the presence of the eternal Father. And then who knows how much of this evil is the result of ignorance, the force of circum- stances, and perhaps by the sins of parents, masterful animal passions, as unavoidable as the frosts of spring by the leaves ? And shall one soul go down to death when through its fall and suffering others have been exalted? Nay; that life to come shall only be more holy and better than this, inasmuch as it will be more permeated with a spirit of self-sacrifice and constant en-
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deavor to lift up every fallen soul. As these thoughts flashed through my mind I looked away into the distance, and no one but a true-born poet could adequately describe the beauty of the scene in the rich coloring and blended hues of every shade. Close at hand I saw visible death and decay. If I had taken any single leaf in my hand, I should have found-no matter how rich its coloring might have been-some mark of imperfection and visible sign of approaching death. But in the distance, where the individuality of leaf and tree faded out of sight, they formed together one perfect and harmonious picture of rich and beautiful life. Is there not revealed here the truth that the best things about our lives are only seen when we set humanity be- fore us as one great family, united in interest and destiny, ever going forward to a brighter and more perfect life, from which all decay and death is eliminated, and in which the good of each is the good of all? Take any individual life, and in it you will find some flaw or imperfect spot. But once unite our hearts together in one true brotherhood, with a pure, strong love cementing each to all, and all to God, and the imperfection of the individual will be lost in the blended life and beauty of the whole. What is lacking by one will be supplied by another, and then, as we learn this truth, we shall find that God doeth all things well; that instead of the race being cursed and lost, it has been fulfill- ing and constantly going forward to its true destiny beneath the blessing and guidance of the Eternal. Oh, friends immortal ! Soon the fate of our great Senator will be ours. As surely as the leaves that once flashed back the summer's light and beauty strew the earth to-day must these bodies fade and fall before the approaching frosts and winds of life's wintry days. But as the life that gleamed and sparkled all through the spring and sum- mer months has gone into a bud that will soon open into a new life, so we believe will the soul-life that animates our bodies live again beyond the sere and yellow leaf in a brighter, fairer sum- mer land above. Let us, then, so live that we may be a part of the beauty and inspiration of the present, and, like the leaves of summer, keep, through the exaltation of a noble life, the scorching rays of temptation from many a weary head; that when we fall at last we may, like him whose memory we seek to honor to-day, leave behind us the sweet incense of a true and helpful life.
*REALISTS AND IDEALISTS.
GEORGE CHAINEY.
Now it came to pass as they went that he entered into a certain village, and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house; and she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet and heard his word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to Him and said : Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? Bid her, there- fore, that she help me.
And Jesus answered and said unto her : Martha, Martha, thou are careful and troubled about many things. But one thing is needful, and Mary has chosen that good part which shall not be taken away from her .- Luke, 10 : 38.42.
The life of Jesus, as limned in the four Gospels, gives to us numerous exquisite home-sketches that touch our hearts like the memory of a mother's prayer when far from the hearth-stone of our childhood. The glimpse that we get of the affection exist- ing between Him and'the family of Lazarus, Martha and Mary, is to me full of a tender, fascinating interest. So often is the name of Mary mentioned and so vivid and abandoned are some of the expressions of her love that nothing less than a supernatural sacredness and intensity of reverence could keep the reader from giving other interpretation to it than that of religious fervor and enthusiasm. And to my thought, I think it would be an advan- tage to look upon this in a more human and natural way than is common. I cannot see that it would cast any shadow of dishonor upon the work of Jesus as the fulfillment of the Christ-need that has been planted in all hearts. The work of Jesus is not to bring God down to us, but us up to God. It is not the descen- sion of Divinity, but the ascension of humanity that I behold in Him. To me one of the most evil influences exerted upon the world is that teaching of religion that casts disrespect upon a pure human love, representing its presence in the heart as dangerous to religion, condemning as a sin the writing and read- ing of such books as idealize it, and conveying the idea that to
*Sermon preached in the Church of the Unity, May 19th, 1878.
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associate any such thing with Jesus or Heaven would be sacrilege. If the future life has no room in it for love, I have no great desire to share in it. What can be more sacred than the dawning of a tender and pure affection? What can so bathe Heaven and earth with the light of hope and immortal life as the first sweet sense of its reciprocity ? The theme of poet and orator, forever sung and forever described, but never fully expressed ! Shall that which underlies the noblest heroism, the sweetest music, the purest ambitions, the most perfect joys of our earthly life be divorced from our immortal hope? Nay! Heaven is neither a monastery or a nunnery. If Jesus did sometimes forget the great thoughts that stirred His heart and mind to think of Mary, or to spend an hour in the presence of her loving devotion, he was none the less Divine. Yea, more so; for our conception of Divinity must include that which is purest and most perfectly human. And no one could ever be a true son of man, realizing all that is best and noblest in the pos- sibilities of our nature, who did not include in the compass of his life the thrilling intoxication of a pure, unselfish love; a love that thinks, for the time being, only on the perfections of the beloved, seeing her as the ideal of all womanly grace and beauty. That Jesus felt this love when He defended Mary against the imputations of Martha, it is not for me to say. It seems, how- ever, quite plain that she loved Him with all the fervor of her being, while he often sought the shelter of her home. When- ever His foot crossed its threshold there was always great joy. Martha, eager and practical in her devotion, at once busied her- self that she might satisfy His earthly needs, give him the benefit of her skill in cookery and careful hospitality. But Mary forgot that she or any one had a body to be cared for, and, entranced in the ecstacy of her affection, sat down at His feet to feast upon every precious word that should fall from His lips. Martha could not do all she wanted to for her friend. Mary loved Him too well to think of anything. She only felt ? sweet delight in His presence. Martha thought of two things she would like to do for Him for every one her busy hands could accomplish ; and so it seemed to her a great waste for Mary to thus squander away her time when there were so many practical things to be done. And so she sought the assistance of Jesus
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in her effort to correct her of her faults. I don't altogether like the reply of Jesus as it has come to us. Perhaps it sounded different when He uttered it. The tone of voice and the look that accompanies such a word ofttimes gives it quite a different meaning than the bare word reveals. It is possible it may have sounded something like a protest against Martha considering Him worthy of so much careful attention. But as it stands, it sounds too much like a reproof of good, faithful, practical Martha. There is a truth that underlies the idea that Mary had chosen the better part ; but this answer seems to ignore the fair and equal balance of their devotion. It may have received some- what of its present coloring from the early ideas of the church touching the vanity of all earthly things. But while we are set- ting no less store on spiritual grace and beauty of life, we are learning that next to this, yea, of kin to it, is the true and faith- ful fulfillment of these our earthly needs. The faithful and loving devotion at home of wives and mothers shall rank hence- forth with the prayers of the saints. Hospitality prompted by love like that of Martha's, even though it be a bit proud of the fine linen, quality and cookery of the food, shall be accounted as part of the righteousness that is by faith. It was, no doubt, a pleasant thing for Jesus to find so earnest a sympathy and sweet communion of spirit as that of Mary's. But it seems to me that when He came hungry and tired from a long day's work of teaching from place to place, worn out with the incessant har- rassing of Scribes and Pharisees trying to catch Him in the meshes of the law with their fine-spun subtleties and technicali- ties, that He ought to have considered it a fine thing to have Martha's busy brain and hands devoted to His rest and comfort. Martha and Mary represent two different types of character, equally important in their appointed spheres. Martha was realistic and Mary idealistic. The realistic character, when prominent, assures its possessor what we call talent, and makes them practically useful to their day and generation. The idealist, when well developed, gives its possessor what we call genius ; and while it often seems to render them of no practical use in their own time, they generally open new paths of. useful- ness for the next generation to walk in. Now I notice that persons of talent frequently speak disparagingly of those of
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genius; while those of genius frequently manifest but little respect for those of mere talent. But each of these has its ad- vantages and disadvantages. The spirit of the liberal faith should be that which looks for unity of interest where others see only separation, and harmony where they find naught but discord. Our mission is to unite all truth and goodness, to bring out the unities in brighter radiance above the diversities. All things to him whose spiritual vision is strong enough to look straight into the sunlight of truth make up one great whole. There is nothing that God has created that will not harmonize with all things else. There are no notes missing on His key-board, if the hand be but practiced to find the chords. The man who invents a steam engine or a telegraph ought to stand side by side with the one who founds a religion or leads in a reformation. He who reads for us the truth of physics should be looked upon as the companion and fellow-laborer of the one who speaks for us the moral truths of the soul. Genius without talent would be as un- satisfactory a working force as a soul without a body is in our world. The inventor needs the contractor. Genius may cut a new path through the forest, but talent must macademize the road and bridge the streams before it can be of any service. Genius may possess the advantage of living in a sphere above the petty cares and anxieties of talent, but when genius is made, by some sudden wrench of accident, painfully aware of need in this direction, talent ofttimes escapes through forethought. Genius may best serve the future, but talent is most useful to-day. Mary may be light and inspiration to the soul, but without Martha the soul would be soon so fettered with a weary and exhausted body that it would be incapable of flight. Hence they cannot afford to be jealous of each other. They are each in the far-reaching plan of God, doing essential work in building the temple of humanity, though one puts in the solid and sub- stantial timbers and masonry, while the other puts on the adorn-
ment. But right here lies the point of difficulty. Martha and Mary were both true to their own instincts, both doing essential work. But Martha and Marty failed, nevertheless, to under- stand each other. Martha thought Mary was having altogether too good a time; yea, that she was actually wasting her time, neglecting her duty while sitting at the feet of Jesus, lost to all
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else but the fact of His presence. Mary, no doubt, after her rough and sharp reproof, said to herself: Oh, cruel sister, to ask me to do such things at this time and so forgo what I would be willing to die for! It is not said that Mary uttered any com- plaints at her sister's want of sympathy, but doubtless Martha often kept her tied down to the real things of life, when her spirit was yearning to fly out into the Heaven of the ideal. So it is in the world. Genius generally, during its lifetime, goes unhonored and unsung, save by a few kindred spirits ; for genius always knows and sympathizes with genius, even as Jesus, who is the crown of all genius, knew and honored Mary. But talent, being a present blessing, is always rewarded by the world. It is true this is in part counteracted by the fact that the work of genius is a reward in itself. Nature generally strikes a good bal- ance, and by some hook or crook secures to each his penny. But how many of realistic character look upon idealists as mere useless idlers, who increase their labor by squandering away their time in painting pictures, making poems, writing books or com- posing music. The spirit of socialism that is now in many places trying to push itself to the front has no sympathy or place for genius. In its light there is no work that needs to be done beyond the domain of the real. They would set all to doing of something that would increase the solid wealth. They would feed the body and starve the soul. Take care of the house and turn out the tenant. No system of socialism ever devised yet took into consideration the vital necessities of genius. But out- side of all theoretical socialism we often meet careful, successful business men, but who, being destitute of all idealism, look with scorn on the poor artist or idealist who prefers his dream, though it condemn him to poverty, to the doing of what would be to him mere drudgery, yea, absolute bondage. What a hard chance the boy or girl of idealistic turn has that is born into an intensely realistic family ; how all their natural instincts are oft- times repressed ; every calling to which they are adapted denied them; their cherished ambitions ridiculed as silly and unattain- able dreams. No one can paint the suffering that genius has in this way undergone, or estimate the light that has thus been hidden from the world under parental realism. But on the other hand, how often genius complains of this want of understanding
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and sympathy, retires within itself and looks down with silent contempt upon all patient devotion to practical prosperity, call- ing all such sordid slaves of Mammon, and many other like hard names. That we shall ever fully reconcile this difference, I do not dream. The most perfect machine must waste some of its power in friction. If there was no counteracting force to over- come, there would be no need of the machine. It is only under such a condition of things in part that the two can come to their best development. Martha and Mary must both think their qualities the best in order to make life endurable. Egotism is deadly poisonous, but still the true heart must feel itself to be the light of the world. But still I think that the amount of friction has been unnecessarily increased by a failure in the use of the oil of liberalism, or, rather, through the absence of the larger vision that sympathizes with each, points out to each their relation to the other, and shows that, though so opposite in their work, that they are each a part of the Divine plan, which, in the words of George Eliot, "is widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with darkness narrower." This world was never designed to be cursed with uniformity. But while the good of diversity must be preserved, the evil of jealousy between individuals and sectarianism of churches ought to be done away with by an insight into the wide-reaching and all-inclusive unities of life. It is time we learned that though our work may be different, that the good of each is the good of all.
Our work as religionists is not to destroy, but to build up in- dependence of thought and action. We must not, for Mary's sake, take from Martha the ambition of her life; or for Martha, that of Mary's. While individual churches will preserve their variety of outward life, we must seek to cement them together with the spirit of true liberalism - that is, a genuine sympathy for those who differ with us in opinion, and also by opening to them the thought of God as written on the page of nature. Therein ample provision has been made for both the realist and idealist. There need be no jealousy for want of room. Martha has no need to trample down the flowers of Mary; or Mary to uproot the vegetables and herbs of Martha. It is not at all nec- essary to level the mountains or destroy the beauty of the land- scape, in order to cause the earth to yield its increase. As we
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find both of these elements in the world of nature, so we should look for them in human life. Though the life of the idealist may seem to some to be one long summer's holiday, it is just as hard work to raise flowers as fruit-and sometimes harder-especially in the amount of skill required Those whose work is practical know naught of the restless energy of the mind that is carried forward in its task by the resistless inspiration of the desire to behold truth in yet fairer form and diviner perfection. They think that they alone serve - that they alone know what it is to be weary with work ; when ofttimes those whom they condemn as idle dreamers have drawn larger on their stock of vitality, in order to accomplish their task, than they ever did. One of the lessons of my subject is, that while others may seem to us to be doing wrong, they may really be doing better than we are. Now, as a church, we have done our best in the way of theory to make this a part of our life ; but unless we reveal, in the spirit of our lives, that we think those who differ from us may be as right in their way as we are in ours, our theory will be vain. I some- times meet with those who announce themselves as liberals, who are just as harsh in their spirit towards the orthodox as they are to us. I also find, occasionally, one who thinks that there are no liberal opinions worth holding, outside of his own private method of arriving at the truth. While, then, we are true to self-doing the thing that seems to us right, and standing bravely by the truth as we see it, let us remember that others who differ radically with us may yet be just as true as we are.
Another lesson of my subject is, that we must not flinch from being true to our own instincts, though it does hurt the feelings of our friends. Mary and Martha were doubtless true and loyal women; and yet we see that in being true to themselves, they were compelled to suffer in their feelings, each for the other. But we must not flinch from this, when it can't be avoided. I re- member once seeing some young ducklings, that had been hatched by a hen, taking, for the first time to the water, while their quondam mother fluttered to and fro on the bank, calling them back to her wing, in a perfect agony of fear. So there are many who find their instincts calling them to venture out into new and untried waters of life, while friends stand on the shore and call upon them, in the name of their soul's salvation, to come
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back. I remember well how my own heart was torn by this conflict. But all that a man has will he give for his life. Yea ; it was not that; but the truth seemed to me so divinely fair, and liberty so sweet, that I resolved to have it at any cost. We are all called upon to buy this truth of character in the same way. This is the pearl of great price - the treasure hid in a fleld ; to secure which we are to sell all we have. Then --
This above all-To thine own self be true ; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
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