We can undoubtedly serve God in the world, but it is in accordance with the Creator's final aim and the creature's highest, because eternal, destiny, to pay Him peculiar honour and glorify Him, and this is the work of those who adopt the religious life. Our religious duties, though they do not constitute all morality, are its most dignified part. They cover the commandments regarding our duty towards God; they make the moral principle more intelligible, active, and fruitful, and they were recognized even by the great pagan philosophers as the chief obligations of man. The denial of this truth by Protestantism leads to the doctrines of Kant and of modern thinkers who deny all moral value to prayer or to any action of which God is the immediate aim.
Why should Sunday be more sacred than other days if the worship of God is no better than any other occupation, when to do one's daily work is, in fact, "the only justifiable way of serving God"? Why should a church be a more sacred place than a factory, a museum, or an inn, if work connected with the economic and aesthetic sides of life were on a level with its religious aspect, or rather if it actually constituted Christianity?
The religious Orders in the kingdom of God are precisely what a church, with its spire pointing to heaven, is in the midst of a wilderness of houses, or what Sunday is to the rest of the week -- neither more nor less. The life of prayer in a religious house is not "free of all moral obligations," but is itself the highest moral act. Sell contradicts himself when he says that Protestantism disparages all "purely religious activity" and recognizes "no other direct spiritual relation with God than that which consists in performing all the duties of one's earthly, human, and moral calling from the depths of a heart devoted to God, i.e., with prayer." All practical moral action is, in his opinion, "direct worship of God" (p. 280).
But Sell shows plainly that earthly activity is not direct worship of God, because he is compelled to add prayer to it, in order to be able to represent it as such. Prayer, however, is a "purely religious activity," the direct submission of the spirit to God; and the most important, though not the sole, aim of the contemplative Orders is to practise prayer in as great and perfect a degree as is possible. If man had "no particular duties to discharge towards God," we ought to adopt D. Fr. Strauss's suggestion and invite people rather to visit museums and listen to Beethoven's symphonies on Sunday; if work were our best direct means of honouring God and fulfilling our highest aim, we ought to leave off observing Sunday as a holy day. If the "sanctity" of earthly labour is due, however, to the prayerful disposition of the heart, the superiority of the latter must logically be admitted, because what is original and absolute always takes precedence of what is derived and relative.
W. H. Riehl, the talented apologist of labour, sharply criticises "the rhetorical exaggeration" of describing all honest work as "sacred." He says that such a description involves a false principle: "Sacred labour is assumed to be the one true form of worship; we are no longer to pray and work, like the old-fashioned people, but we are to work instead of praying" -- a "new edition of the old rationalistic doctrine that advocated morality in place of religion."{1}
Modern Pantheism is consistent in pronouncing all true service of the world to be service of God; it is taught consciously or unconsciously by many modern theologians as a consequence of the neutralization, peculiar to Protestantism, of all distinctions and degrees of being. It is a significant fact that Luther on one occasion remarked that churches ought not to be built differently from dance halls.{2} Such language cannot be reconciled with a loving conception of God and a steady Christian piety; it is the outcome of the hostile disposition shown to all that is Catholic.
Furthermore, exclusive devotion to religious interests brings the dignity and supernatural destiny of man into prominence. "A religious," so says a Protestant writer, "is deficient in what we now regard as of the highest importance, viz., personality, which is inconceivable apart from property, family, and freedom."{3} In these words there is not so much an exaltation of personality as a descent to the standpoint of paganism, which valued a man according to his physical strength, social position, and wealth. If this theory were adopted, the poor, the lame, and the enslaved would possess no human personality. It is a great merit of Christianity to have asserted the dignity of the individual, but this is to a great extent connected with the fact that in the religious life the unimportance of all exterior accidental advantages, such as property, birth, and social position, is not only taught, but demonstrated ad oculos by means of living examples, often of a very remarkable nature.{4}
The good things of the world cannot be compared with the dignity of the human soul; nor may the need of sexual consummation be deemed absolute for man as a personality. Although man has a dual nature, the two spheres of his life are not of equal importance; the senses supply matter for the intellect, but the intellect is destined to possess God. The modern opinion that an unmarried man is only "half a man"{5} involves a degradation of the human personality, and, a priori, a moral condemnation of a large proportion of the human race; above all, the dignity of woman is incompatible with such a principle. Personality is strengthened, not by giving the passions and the demands of nature free play, not by living a life of nature, but by self-discipline and freedom of the spirit. The history of art and science introduces us to many great met, who were so fully occupied with their intellectual interests and ideals as to renounce marriage. In answer to the question why he had never married, Michaelangelo replied: "I have too much of a wife already in my art, which keeps me always busy, and my children may be seen in the works that I shall leave behind me." K. Fischer remarks of Kant that there was in his life no void that marriage could have filled. If art and science can accomplish this, is it beyond the power of religion to do the same? Cannot the highest beauty and truth acquire such influence over the heart of man that serving them is enough to fill his whole intellectual existence? "Exalted above human values is the thing the contemplation of which enables a man to live without other men."{6} If in the former case, in which accident plays so great a part, the world calls idealists those who renounce marriage, why will it deny in the latter case this term to those to whom the ideal disposition is the primary and pronounced motive?{7}
A third reason for asceticism exists in the power of sin, which has to he resisted by individuals and by mankind in general. Human nature, as it is constituted, is incapable of simple, unreserved intercourse with the world and its attractions. The thorns and thistles of riches and worldly pleasures are only too apt to choke the good seed, and this life becomes the foe of the life to come. Every Christian is bound to resist lust of the eyes, lust of the flesh, and the pride of life, and if in this struggle he renounces even that which is permitted, in order to be more surely true to duty in time of temptation, and if such renunciation in individual cases is better than the enjoyment of what is permitted, it follows that an Order, which in many forms of the Church's organism embodies precisely this spirit of resistance to sin, the lifting up of the spirit above the things of this world, penance and sacrifice, must be recognized as higher, more ideal, than any other. The three Evangelical Counsels are a strong force in counteracting the degrading power of desire for base gains, of sexual passion, and of unrestrained license, which are always assuming new forms and threatening to disturb the peace of the individual and of society at large. Heroic renunciation of the enjoyments and the happiness of life, when actually seen in glorious exemplifications, makes a deeper impression upon the minds of the people than any number of sermons, and confirms their faith in the future world, and quickens that sense for higher things that is the characteristic feature of Christian morality.
All that has been said can be summed up in the words: Following of Christ. It is a vain attempt to represent Christ as a "cheerful, life-enjoying rabbi." From His birth in the stable to His death on the cross, Jesus lived in poverty, privation, and contempt. In a manner all His own He united the spiritual with the temporal, the contemplative with the active life, thus setting an unattainable example to men in all phases of life. There can, however, be no doubt that His whole life was not favourable to the "intimate interweaving of worldliness and culture that is presented to us in modern Protestant Christianity." It is very significant that His life culminated on the cross of shame and suffering. Even St. Paul preached Christ as the Crucified, and all who have penetrated most deeply and earnestly into the spirit of Christ have understood it to be a spirit of sacrifice and mortification, and have valued the religious life as most perfectly embodying this spirit.{8}
Finally, it is an incontestable fact that the observance of the Evangelical Counsels has been a great blessing to the social order and to the cause of civilization. Society is based upon a modification of the natural man with his selfish, self-assertive, and seclusive disposition so that he voluntarily accepts an assigned place in the organization of the social order, and willingly submits to authority. This modification is effected most perfectly within the narrow limits of community life in religious Orders, which brings together high and low, learned and ignorant, in the spirit of charity and mutual service. True culture is attained when the body and all the natural talents are brought under the dominion of the spirit, and such a dominion requires the spirit, first, to have control over itself and the things of sense. Such a deliverance from the bonds of nature and sense, such a concentration of all the intellectual faculties upon great thoughts and aims, is greatly promoted by the strictness and silence of monastic solitude.
In the Gospels the commandment requiring perfection includes both love of God and love of one's neighbour; and love of our neighbour, of humanity as a whole, is the spirit of all genuine social culture. As love of God grows more intense, it increases our comprehension and zeal in our love towards others; in fact, charity impels men to action, as Christ and the apostles expressly admonish us not to love only in word, but in deed and in truth. Consequently, the energy and buoyancy of a Christian's love of God, being incapable of benefiting Him, overflow upon our fellowmen and succour the needy and afflicted. In renouncing material goods this transference of energy is displayed outwardly: "If thou wilt be perfect, sell what thou hast and give it to the poor." Also the rennnciation of marriage for God's sake is not unfruitful in good results to society. The heart, too, possesses treasures, stores of power to do good and confer happiness, and it has a desire and necessity to bestow them on others. In the light of a religious vocation they lose none of their beneficent force, and when released from the confines of family life they find wider scope. The greatest demands made by society upon the charity and spirit of self-sacrifice of its members have ever met with ready response on the part of those vowed to virginity.
There is a profound saying of Goethe that whoever wishes to do anything for the world must hold aloof from it, and Carlyle wrote: "Two men I honour, and no third. First, the toilworn craftsman that with earth-made implements laboriously conquers the earth and makes her man's. . . . A second man I honour, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life."{9}
The world, with its hurry and struggle for worldly things, with its passions, errors, and disappointments, knows that it is often unable to see clearly what is truly necessary, or what tends to its happiness; and so it places peculiar confidence in men who, by a renunciation of the world and a firm and heroic will, have raised themselves above earthly interests. It is not merely accidental that in masterpieces of literature, faithfully representing human life, a religious often appears as the counsellor of people in the world, and even of lovers. I need refer only to Friar Laurence in "Romeo and Juliet," the friar in "Much Ado About Nothing" and in Goethe's "Natlürliche Tochter," and Pater Christoforo in Manzoni's "Promessi Sposi."
The force of example, too, is edifying, and Christians collectively are the better for the high standard of moral purity attained by those who have dedicated their lives thus to God's service. The idea of Christian sanctity, the belief in God, in His grace, and in the world to come, and the capacity of human nature to attain the highest perfection, are all displayed objectively in the glorious lives of the heroes of self-sacrifice. Countless unhappy mortals, weighed down by the cruelty of men and by suffering of all kinds, and without hope, have derived fresh courage through seeing the favourites of fortune, whom they were inclined to envy, voluntarily abandon all pleasures of life and gladly descend to their own poverty. That such things actually take place not only supports morality generally, but particularly demands attention from the social thought of our day. But it cannot be the principal aim of asceticism to exert an influence upon society, it must be included in its religious aim; for any one who practised virtue with a view to edifying others by its force and beauty would certainly run a risk of falling into the folly and sin of self-justification.{10}
In discussing the twofold character of Christianity, world-renunciation and world-enjoyment, we must bear in mind that the guiding principle of a Christian life is an unreserved, all-embracing love of God and our neighbour, which involves renunciation of all sinful pleasures and selfishness. Moreover, this life discloses a great many different forms, and there are various vocations, some devoting themselves to research, others to manual labour, others again to training the young, all according to God's will; whilst a few dedicate their lives to the exclusive service of God and to promoting the supernatural and spiritual welfare of mankind.
The sense of duty must urge every Christian to discharge the obligations of his own calling, whatever it may be, with all the loyalty, industry, and sacrifice required, in conformity with God's holy will and the general aim of His kingdom. History bears witness to the fact that men who have renounced the world are the ones who have done most for its restoration and for the promotion of intellectual and social culture. This is not one of the paradoxes of historical evolution, but a fulfilment of the words of our Saviour in the Sermon on the Mount: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His justice, and all these things shall be added unto you."
Some people maintain that the discharge of worldly obligations is the only calling that a Christian can have; and I have no hesitation in stating that since the Reformation this idea has predominated to a great extent. Whether it originated in a deeper moral appreciation of civilized life, or whether it has had a beneficial effect in giving this life the impress of Christianity, is another question. We are told that Luther shattered the mediaeval ideal of life and set up another in its place; that he restored the natural life to its proper position and united the worldly and the religious calling;{11} that he restored the performance of one's worldly duties, like every other pure and profitable enjoyment, again to the holy service of God;{12} that by delivering the world from the curse of asceticism, he restored its natural simplicity and allowed all earthly labour to be performed with a good conscience.{13} According to Ritschl, the new ideal of life, by means of which a Christian who trusts in God raises himself above the world and subdues the world, while following his earthly vocation, was actually Luther's fundamental thought.{14}
This view, however, has been rejected as untenable, even by Protestants. The few passages that can be quoted in support of it are as nothing in comparison with the mass of testimony which proves the starting and central point of the Reformation to have been the sola fides doctrine, "that consoling grace to a man troubled about his sins." But even as one idea out of many, Luther, by his alleged removal of the stain of profanity attaching to secular life, does not deserve the praise that he has received, and this for two reasons.{15}
In the first place, during the Middle Ages, the word "profane" had no bad sense when it was applied to worldly pursuits, and it would be easy to quote from mediaeval preachers and mystics words exactly parallel to Luther's well-known remarks on the subject of the sweeping maid and the ploughing man, who were pleasing in God's sight. Mark von Weida, a Saxon Dominican, preached in 1501 a sermon on prayer, and said in it: "A man ought always to do what beseems his position and employment, and what is good and right. If he does this, he is always praying. Hence it follows that we find many poor peasants, labourers, or artisans, and others who, on beginning their work, do so with the intention that it shall tend to God's glory, and, by means of this work that they do day by day, they are more pleasing to God in heaven, and earn more merit in His sight, than many Carthusians, or black, gray, and white friars, who stand daily in their choir, singing and praying."{16}
In the second place, Luther extolled life in the world not because he appreciated the natural sphere of life as more moral, but, as is apparent in all his writings, because he hated the monastic system, and this hatred had much to do with Luther's own personal development, and with his contempt of all good works. Whoever despises "the clerical life" as the work of Satan, and tries to banish it altogether, is naturally forced to recommend the secular life.{17}
In proof of this last statement I may remind my readers of the dark and pessimistic view held by Luther regarding man in his natural condition. If human nature were utterly corrupt and incapable of any living union with God, it would follow that the activity of this nature, and the creations of the intellect and will, must also be alien to God, and therefore "profane."
According to Luther, this inward disorder is not really remedied by justification, but only covered up. At the best any attempt on the part of man to renew himself and the world is only a constituent of "earthly and human justice," which Luther says is as distinct from God's justice as heaven is from earth and light from darkness. A Christian "conscience" has, strictly speaking, very little to do with the reason and the will. Agricola's theory that the Gospel belonged to the Church and the law to the law courts, bears a great resemblance to Luther's. We should be justified in saying that religion and the natural life are here so far separated as to seem to be on two quite different planes.{18}
The most decisive feature in asceticism is the renunciation of marriage, as by marrying a man incurs the obligation of acquiring worldly possessions, social position, etc. In order to give a convincing account of Luther's views on this subject, and also indirectly to throw light on his attitude to secular life in general, I will refer to one of his most sober and instructive works, the explanation of 1 Cor. vii. From verses 1 and 2, regardless of St. Paul's opinion, subsequently very plainly expressed, Luther infers that woman was created only for marriage, that in her very nature she exists for the sake of man, otherwise nothing remains to her but vice, or else "we should have to strangle them all." He{19} holds that for every human being marriage is necessary on account of the violence of sexual passion; "therefore inevitably a man must cling to his wife and a wife to her husband, unless God works a miracle by a special gift" (p. 113). This theory, that only a miracle of God can raise any one above the power of passion, and that chastity apart from marriage is very rarely possible, recurs several times in this treatise (pp. 105, 141). It follows from this, as a logical conclusion, that if, after a separation, one party refuses to be reconciled, the other is free to contract a new marriage (pp. 119, 121). Of the various causes, that give importance to marriage, the best and strongest is said to be "necessity" (p. 114). Even in marriage, however, sexual pleasure is not "without sin," and God only tolerates it because of the benefits of marriage (pp. 101, 114).
What does Luther make of the words in which St. Paul so plainly states the superiority of virginity? He interprets them as referring to "matters of this world," to "temporal advantage," to "temporal peace and comfort," and for these reasons he, too, recommends celibacy.{20}
If this explanation derived some sort of support (though only apparently) from verse 26 (propter instantem necessitatem), it would be proved unsatisfactory by verse 34, where it is plainly out of place. Hence, in commenting on this verse, Luther admits that chastity has the further advantage of "facilitating the service of God." Although in marriage care and labour are good, "yet it is much better to be free to pray and to spread God's word, for in this way a man benefits and consoles many people, even the whole of Christendom" (pp. 138, 139). Nevertheless the difference between marriage and virginity should not be connected with morality, but only with earthly advantages and disadvantages!{21}
A further contradiction makes Luther's theory still more complicated. He speaks of marriage as a spiritual state, because it always necessitates confidence in God's assistance to supply the needs of the family; whereas a religious lives free from anxiety. Hence the married state is "in its nature" gold, and the religious state "filth," because the former promotes faith and the latter unbelief (p. 107). How, then, can Luther sum up his chapter with the words: "It is good not to marry, unless there be need" (p. 141)?
This wavering between two contrary opinions is due to Luther's Nominalism, which ascribes no value to morality in comparison with faith. He remarks here: "Before God all things are alike, although they are different from one another. . . . Before Him marriage and virginity are alike, for both are His divine gifts, although, to compare them, one is better than the other" (p. 164).
But enough of these contradictions; the clear fundamental ideas, which elsewhere appear much more bluntly, show what "Luther's wholesome ethical teaching" is in comparison with "the lower Catholic conception" on the subject of marriage.{22} Luther regarded it as a duty for every Christian to marry -- "miracles" need not be taken into account; marriage, however, was advocated not because of its moral beauty and excellence, but chiefly because it supplies the only means of curbing the impulses of our corrupt nature. In itself Luther thought chastity to be "a rare and noble gift," but no one possesses it; and consequently those who do not marry have only the sorrowful necessity left to them to be overcome by their passions. The Catholic Church has always taught that the advantages of marriage were threefold: bonum prolis, fidei, sacramenti -- the good of posterity, of fidelity, and of the sacrament -- and that it was not merely "a matter of necessity." She has not set before woman the alternative between marriage and vice, but by exalting virginity has opened to her an ideal career, and has given her the opportunity of attaining to religious perfection, and at the same time of engaging in works of charity, art, and science, independently of man's caprice. Thus in Catholicism the spirit, that ostensibly avoids the world, actually supplies all the needs of civilization -- and is capable of dealing even with the modern woman's question -- whilst Luther's principles display the peculiarity of all extreme views; they turn into the direct opposite of what is intended.{23}
In the further development of Protestant thought, the principle that extremes meet has acquired peculiar significance. The stress laid upon "faith alone" inevitably led to a reaction and gave rise to philosophical moralism, to an exaggeration of the evil effects of sin, and to naturalism. Two other circumstances favoured the spread of Protestantism, both being historically, though not theoretically, connected with the Reformation. When dogmatic faith was deprived of the support of ecclesiastical authority, it gradually decayed and gave place to ideas of "enlightenment," and when the religious institutions and forms of life, that had in the Middle Ages been regarded as holy and sanctifying, were to a great extent destroyed, civilized life was "secularized," and left to its own resources.{24}
It is not, therefore, in accordance with history to regard modern progress in civilization as especially due to the Reformation. The centuries of orthodoxy have been by no means conspicuous for achievements in art and science. When a livelier perception of the necessity of moral action made itself felt, it did not aim at social progress. On the contrary, the history of Pietism shows that, with the idea of perfection, a tendency to adopt the ascetic view of life again asserted itself; and, owing to the absence of a church organization and guidance, Pietism, in renouncing the world, degenerated naturally into exaggerated or trivial affectation.{25}
Discussions regarding the intermediate or indifferent things already mentioned, such as dancing, smoking, playing cards, shooting, visiting theatres, and wearing wigs, abound in the Protestant literature of the seventeenth century; many Lutheran and Calvinistic theologians declared all these things to be actually sinful, and not merely less good; and they acted on this principle in their care of souls. Some considered it even morally wrong to love any creature whatsoever. Catholic asceticism has always been free from these extremes, for such renunciation of the world destroys the true ideal and brings ridicule upon it.
According to Möhler's famous saying, the periods when faith and public spirit are strongest in the Catholic Church are those of the most splendid productions of art and science. "Protestantism has another effect. As long as the teaching of Luther and Calvin was faithfully believed, there was no poetry, no history, and no philosophy in the Protestant Church. It is certain that as long as the Protestant part of the population was Lutheran, it had no philosophy, and when it gained a system of philosophy, it had ceased to be Lutheran. Thus its faith fled from philosophy, and its philosophy from faith." In speaking of classical German literature, so great from the human point of view, and so remote from Christianity, Möhler remarks: "The more thoroughly the principle of isolation is carried out in Protestantism, the more brilliant are the results produced in its own peculiar manner; and conversely, the more lively the sense of unity in Catholicism, the more do the arts and sciences flourish within its bosom."{26}
Lagarde, writing independently of Möhler, expresses almost the same ideas. According to him, the apparent influence of Protestantism on progress is due not to its excellence, but to its inner indefensibility, and the ease with which it may thereby be destroyed "I absolutely deny that Lessing, Goethe, Herder, Kant, and Winkelmann were in any essential way influenced by the Protestant system and the Protestant Church."{27}
It is not within the scope of this work to compare Protestantism, so completely divested of all supernatural thought and direction, with Catholicism. But one thought suggests itself: The setting free of all the intellectual faculties without restriction to contend for an earthly reward, and the struggle for a meaning of life, in which the highest aim, the absolute Good, has first to be sought, must on the one hand impart great buoyancy to men's efforts, but on the other must produce sharp contrasts, doubts, and disappointments. A Catholic, on the contrary, whose thought is at rest on the most vital questions, and whose efforts as far as they are absolute, are aimed at the world to come, is apt to lag behind a man of the present day with his energy of thought and action, unless he is urged on by far-sighted conscientiousness or apologetic rivalry. As a compensation, however, he has a firm grip upon his fundamental principles, and so is able to maintain the just mean between the fluctuations of opinion, and to sift out the truth from ideas indiscriminately heaped together. His idealism takes the form, less of a struggle to discover a meaning to life, than of moral action for the sanctification of the world and of his own life, and of the peaceful representation of what is beautiful in art; in fact, he aims at the realization of his ideal. The very thought of the multitude of human beings, and of the social consequences of a daring heresy, -- this profoundly Christian consideration for the poor in spirit, -- forbids to him that reckless individualism of which modern thinkers and poets boast.{28}
The Church will never win the applause of those who regard worldly possessions and human dignity as the highest Good; she will always keep alive in her children the consciousness ad majora natus sum! Precisely by this means she renders man inwardly free and happy, for he is raised above the blind forces of passion and fate; precisely by this means she offers mankind an ideal of perfection and happiness, accessible to millions, without being exhausted or broken up. In order to preserve this supernatural spirit in Christendom, she will always uphold the ascetic life and take care that the salt of the earth does not lose its savour. But while resisting all deification of progress, the Church shows her respect for all that is truly great and beautiful. The consciousness ad majora natus sum does not forbid her from saying, with St. Augustine, of worldly education, magna haec et omnino humana. A man who turns his back on the problems of civilization, not because he possesses higher knowledge and purer love, but on account of narrow prejudices, Weltschmerz, or misanthropy, or through despondency or a desire for ease, cannot boast of the approval of the Church any more than he can rely upon God's blessing. In periods when intellectual progress was scarcely thought of as an ideal, and when it offered no dangers or difficulties to Christianity, men with enlightened minds strove to reconcile faith and science, and the Church sought to bring the spirit of Christianity into every relation of life. Nowadays, when the idea of progress is clearly recognized as a divine law, and when modern thought with its empiric certainty stands threateningly opposed to the Church, it is more than ever the duty of Catholics not to shrink from the conflict and the labour of the world, but to bring the supernatural forces of Christianity to bear upon it, so as to cast upon its labour and enjoyment the light of higher thoughts and aims.
My remark that the strenuous exertions of the highly strung people of the present day may be accounted for partly by the fact that they seek the absolute meaning of life in the things of earth, has led Herrmann to reply (p. 167): "It is quite impossible for all a man's forces to be employed in a contest for earthly rewards, if at the same time he has to struggle to discover a meaning for his existence in something absolutely good; for the absolute Good as such belongs to the next life." This formalistic interpretation neither coincides with nor refutes my idea. In Kant's terminology every conception of the absolute may be regarded as transcendental, belonging to the other world, but in the metaphysical and ethical consideration of things, this language is not permissible. Pantheism teaches that there is an absolute cause, but asserts that it is of this world, that it is essentially identical with the world. Many modern students of ethics believe in the existence of an absolute Good as the aim of human action, but explicitly reject the religious aim as belonging to "another world," setting in its place universal prosperity and progress in this world. It is therefore a fact that quest of the absolute has not invariably an "other-worldly" character.
Herrmann probably knows how far theoretical and practical Monism has spread amongst educated Protestants, and to what extent it has concentrated all efforts upon this life, either by overvaluing knowledge or by the pursuit of riches and power. He asserts, it is true, on the other hand, that genuine Christianity is essentially no less active and equally concerned about human progress. "True religion is in every man the highest energy of thought in its reckless advance" (p. 171). He thinks that a religion which authoritatively checks thought and makes men indifferent to worldly matters is a perversion of religion. I need scarcely say that I have never stated with regard to the Catholic religion that it "made" men indifferent and easy-going; but only that in the case of individuals the danger of such a misunderstanding of religion might arise. To say that in every man "true religion is the highest energy of thought in its reckless advance" is manifestly an exaggeration, disproved by the history of Protestantism, beginning with Luther, as well as by that of every other religion. According to Herrmann, the origin of religion is to be found in an "experience of God," but this must be passive rather than active. If philosophical thought regarding God leads to no trustworthy result, a "man's own production" of the substance of religion, and "his struggle for religious conviction," cannot really be the energy of thought pressing forward to truth, but only the introduction to the individualistic breaking up of Christianity and faith in God.
The following remark of Herrmann's can only be regarded as the utterance of blind fanaticism: "The Roman Church has therefore at the present day its place only among the ruins of civilization. Where, however, a nation is preparing a future for itself, the presence of the decaying mass of Roman Christianity, being excluded from participation in active life, can only have a deadly effect. The oonsciousness of this is apparent wherever life is in vigorous growth, in Germany, Austria, France, Italy" (p. 172).
I do not intend to discuss here the question of culture in Protestant and Catholic nations,{29} but regarding Herrmann's gross misconstruction of the situation a few words in elucidation are not out of place. The attempt to answer such profound questions offhand reminds one of the self-satisfied famulus in "Faust," and it shows that some theologians adopt a very ephemeral standpoint. It is a comparatively very short time that Protestantism has been in a position to fancy itself superior to Catholicism in matters of culture. Far up into the eighteenth century it was still overshadowed by the abundance of Catholic achievements, although it had done its best to destroy them. With regard especially to what constitutes joy in life and in the future, no one can deny that all the foundations and productions of Christian culture have so far been the work of the Catholic Church. It is impossible to name a single nation that has been converted from paganism either by Protestantism or by the separated Greek Church, and trained in Christian civilization in the way in which our own nations, now Christian, were converted and trained by the primitive or mediaeval Church! The immense difficulty involved in such an achievement, the vast amount of wisdom, heroism, and patience that it required, are not clear to those who now rest upon a height that it has cost them nothing to attain, there to give free play to their own talents and subjective ideas of religion. As Herrmann refers to nations and masses of people, I may ask further: What elements of Christian culture, penetrating deeply into the nation in general, can be traced to the influence of Protestantism? I venture boldly to assert that every detail marking the life of nations as Christian -- religious customs and forms of art, the ecclesiastical year and popular customs, the development of language and symbolism, even the Passion music, German chorals, and the Christmas tree, so long claimed as a Protestant institution -- all date from an old Catholic past; in teaching the people Christianity and civilization Protestantism has produced nothing new; it has only developed or destroyed that which it found already in existence.
If, after the Reformation, the intellectual productiveness of the Church was less obvious, this was not a sign of decadence nor a token that her faith was a thing of the past, but to a great extent it was the result of the unhappy conflict in religion, and of the increasing alienation of secular life from Christianity and religion and of the hostility to the Church that was its outcome. Protestantism, as well as infidelity, never ceases to attack the positive doctrines and institutions of the Church, and hence the representatives of Catholicism have been forced to adopt a defensive attitude, and this, considering the extent and long history of the Church, has necessarily absorbed a vast amount of energy and lahour that otherwise might have been devoted to the cause of progress. And yet, in the interests of truth and social morality, this defensive attitude is indispensable; it actually has a beneficial effect upon Protestantism, which, without it, would succumb more readily to the disintegrating forces that are now undermining its strength. I need only mention the revival of Christian philosophy, and of theology, after the so-called period of enlightenment; also the resistance offered in our day to infidel socialism. The conflicts with philosophical and moral errors have brought many modern thinkers into prominence, but they imposed upon Catholic scholars the renownless task of ever again defending a truth that had long been established. It is true that the Catholic Church has thereby also made progress, but the growth of an old tree is more easily overlooked than that of a young plant or the blossoming of some strange new flower. In addition to the interior and intellectual antagonism, we must take into account the outward hostility and adverse state regulations which for centuries have been destroying Catholic civilization and its resources. Many of the "ruins" of which Herrmann speaks are the result of brutal regulations made by "enlightened" governments; secularization has destroyed innumerable places of Catholic education, and made their means of support available for Protestant purposes. The recent persecution going on in France showed why the modern spirit regards "the presence of Roman Christianity as something deadly." This hostility arises to a great extent from hatred for the divine and supernatural. When the Pope abandoned vast material possessions in France for the sake of maintaining ideal religious principles, he displayed a magnanimity and hopeful courage, and an assurance of the future and the permanence of the Church, that inspired every unprejudiced opponent with admiration, and by which Protestantism also benefited.{30}
What has Herrmann to say about the Catholic parts of Germany near the Rhine and the Danube? These are regions most ready to submit to the influence of Catholic principles, and the life of the Church is able to expand and flourish there; is it possible to assert that they seem to be "under a narcotic," or reduced to ruins?
K. Sell as a theologian is opposed to all dogmatic restraints, but as a writer of history and a student of civilization he shows great appreciation of the work done by Catholicism in the cause of progress. A comparison of the various nations of to-day seems to him to reveal a superiority, on the part of the Germans, English, and Dutch, in economic and perhaps also in educational matters. "But," he asks, "is not this probably much more an affair of race? And can it be maintained that the French are behind the English in culture at the present day" (p. 271)? To the Protestants belongs the largest percentage of those who attend the seeondary schools in Germany, but this "is due to the Protestants being better off, owing to the fact that the parts of Germany that are exclusively Catholic are chiefly agricultural." The Jews, however, are even better off than the Protestants. He thinks it very questionable whether in criminal statistics any account ought to be taken of creeds, if temperaments and race conditions are ignored. Against the absence of Catholics among the German classical poets, he sets the creative genius of Catholic musicians and artists (p. 271). He concludes with the true remark, which I also have emphasized, that the value of a religion does not lie in what it has effected in the cause of progress, but that the higher efficacy of religion depends upon its capability of being adapted to the needs of progress (p. 275).
When we come to the historical appreciation of the achievements of the two creeds, W. Kühler admits that the Catholic Church also has extolled civic life, marriage, and civil government. "Ever since the time of Paul the Apostle, the supramundane Church, being unable to dispense with the world, has dovetailed into it, by means of the natural law, which controls all social life, a man's calling, marriage, etc. All these things are rendered legitimate in God's sight by the equation jus naturae = lex divina" (p. 48). Close investigation has shown that Luther was not the pioneer of modern culture as Protestantism would like to assume. Our modern culture, according to Sell, "finds its roots, not in the Reformation, but in humanism and enlightenment." Where Luther lays stress upon efficacious action as well as upon faith, "he refers hardly at all to its relation to the world and to civilization" (pp. 52, 56).
E. Tröltsch discusses the subject fully and expresses similar views with regard to the genesis of modern life; on both the positive and the negative side he traces it back beyond the Reformation to the Renaissance. "The pioneers of modern science, Galileo, Pascal, Macchiavelli, Bodin, and Descartes, were Catholics and not Protestants. This is of course no proof that their ideas were of Catholic origin, but it precludes the possibility of their being Protestant." The spread of their ideas, especially in the direction of individualism, was of course facilitated by the Protestant principle; the breaking up of mediaeval supernaturalism was accomplished more quickly owing to the small resistance offered by Protestantism.{31}
F. M. Schiele, who is much influenced by Tröltsch, discusses the relation between civilization and the Catholic and Protestant ideas of religion. By "the union of nature and grace, of faith and thought, of sanctity and the natural law of morality, Catholic Christianity is brought into direct relation with civilization, whilst the individual Catholic participates in it only indirectly, in virtue of belonging to this form of Christianity. With us the reverse is the case. In consequence of our religious individualism and the reckless severance of our civilization from the Church, an individual Protestant stands in direct relation to civilization, whilst Protestantism participates in and influences it only indirectly, as it represents the common sentiments of individual Protestants."{32} This contrast has, of course, been challenged by other Protestants, nor can we as Catholics altogether agree with it; but it contains, nevertheless, some truth and gives matter for thought.
With reference to asceticism, Harnack says that "at the present time Protestantism has acquired more appreciation for the ideal side of monasticism than was possible in the Reformation period. It must admit that there is a great moral truth in the Evangelical Counsels, and that it is desirable to have within the Church a class who, in order to serve their neighbours, are willing to renounce the goods of this world."{33} Asceticism has found in F. W. Förster an intelligent champion of the religious life, who describes its social and ethical importance with much appreciation and from many different points of view.{34}
Even W. James, the American writer, though far more remote from us in thought, and though objecting to many forms of Catholic asceticism, admits that strict "temperance . . . and nonpampering of the body generally . . . may be fruits of love; they may appeal to the subject in the light of sacrifices which he is happy in making to the Deity whom he acknowledges."{35} In another passage he says: "The saints, with their extravagance of human tenderness, are the great torch-bearers of this belief (i.e., in the sacred character of every soul). . . . like the single drops which sparkle in the sun, as they are flung far ahead of the advancing edge of a wave-crest or of a flood; they show the way and are forerunners. The world is not yet with them, so they often seem preposterous in the midst of the world's affairs. Yet they are impregnators of the world, vivifiers and animaters of potentialities of goodness, which, but for them, would lie forever dormant. It is not possible to be quite as mean as we naturally are, when they have passed before us."{36}
{1} Riehl, Die deutsche Arbeit, 3d ed., p. 30, etc.
{2} Weimar ed., XII, 696.
{3} Grenzboten, 1899, p. 623.
{4} Uhlhorn says (Gesch. der christl. Liebestat. in d. alten Kirche, 2d ed., pp. 344, 369) that the monasteries were the birthplace of free labour, and that, whilst apparently destroying personal liberty, had in fact restored it to life. Gregory the Great, having shown at the tomb of the martyrs Nereus and Achilleus how Christian contempt for the world had destroyed the spurious attractions of paganism and restored the nature and dignity of man in himself, admonished his hearers thus: Nolite ergo in vobismetipsi pensare quod habetis, sed quid estis (Hom., 28, 3).
{5} A. Philippi, Die Frauenfrage, Bielefeld, 1894, p. 18.
{6} August., de mor. eccl., 65.
{7} If we regard the "supernatural" destiny of man in the strict sense (see infra, Chap. VII) as an elevation to a higher state of resemblance to God, the appropriateness of the Evangelical Counsels becomes still more apparent. The ascetic life finds in mysticism a source of strength, and, conversely, asceticism considers the character of Christianity as of a supernatural order.
{8} Cf. also Linsenmann, Tüb.. Quartalschr., 1872, p. 32, etc.
{9} Sartor Resartus, Bk. III, Chap. IV.
{10} Hilty, Schlaflose Nächte, p. 233: "Constant and not merely occasional intercourse with God, and complete renunciation of all pleasure and of every kind of selfishness, are now as much as ever the secrets of God's power amongst us. The clergy must attain to this, otherwise their whole activity is of no avail; the prince of this world would laugh at them, and that with good reason."
{11} Uhlhorn, Katholizismus und Protestantismus gegentiber der Sozialen Frage, 2d ed., Gettingen, 1887, pp. 28, 30.
{12} Schmidt, Christentum und Weltverneinung, p. 36.
{13} Harnack, Wesen des Christ., p. 175.
{14} A. Ritschl, Die christl. Vollkommenheit, 2d ed., Göttingen, 1889.
{15} Cf. Ziegler, op. cit., p. 442.
{16} N. Paulus, Katholik, 1902, I, 333. Statements of this kind occur very frequently in mediaeval sermons and devotional works. Cf. N. Paulus, Ztschr. f. Kath. Theol., 1902, p. 438, etc.; Denifle, D. geistl. Leben, p. 332. "Know that many a man is in the midst of the world, and has wife and child; and many a man sits and makes shoes, and his intention is to serve God and support himself and his children; and some poor men go out of a village to manure the fields and earn their bread with hard work; but it may happen that they fare a hundred times better, because they faithfully follow their calling."
{17} Sell, p. 200, involuntarily acknowledges this when he writes: "The secular and regular clergy, hitherto highly esteemed, fell suddenly into the deepest contempt. Positions and employments of laymen were all that was left, and these rose in popular estimation."
{18} Gass, op. cit., p. 54: "Luther nowhere proves that moral conduct, as the general sum total of good works, requires a subjectivity of its own; he stops short at the distinction that good works belong only to the outer world. Moreover, Luther declares that though the believer, who is on the higher level, must be free from all law, yet the one on the lower level, who is still influenced by sin, must continue to be under the dominion of law. But these two standpoints are kept too far apart, and it is not clear how they can both affect the development of the personality." Paulsen, 6th ed., I, 129: "Luther did not think the doctrine of the Church too unreasonable, nor the life of the Church too worldly; we may even assert the contrary. He rejected reason in matters of faith, and had very slight appreciation for the value of this earthly life and its significance."
{19} Weimar ed., XII, 93.
{20} P. 137: "He who has grace to remain chaste, let him restrain his eagerness and beware of the married state, and not entangle himself in such trouble. This is the right way to extol virginity, not to emphasize its merits and dignity before God, but to praise the peace and comfort that it affords in this life."
{21} The contradiction is very evident in the comment: "The words 'well and better' (v. 38) are sufficiently explained above, that we must understand them as referring to what is good 'on earth,' that the married state is good, i.e., without sin and pleasing to God and free to everybody, but the state of chastity is calmer and freer." Note how the meaning of the words is confused here!
{22} Ziegler, p. 450.
{23} This fact has not escaped the notice of thoughtful women who are taking part in the present movement; e.g., L. Eckenstein, Woman under Monasticism, Cambridge, 1895, and E. Gnauck-Kuhne. The latter, by joining the Church, has shown her appreciation of Catholic principles.
{24} Paulsen, op. cit., 131: "The further historical result was that the Church, having thus lost her essential importance, gradually disappeared, like a superfluous organ. . . . There can be no doubt that, like their external manifestation, thought and feeling also were secularized. . . . As the outward life of the Church vanished, the minds of the majority lost all thought of eternity, and men attached themselves more firmly and more exclusively to this world. Luther certainly had no intention of bringing about this result."
{25} R. Rocholl, Einsame Wege, Leipzig, 1898: "Pietism is able to arouse, but not to guide men. . . . It has a strange, morbid, arbitrary appearance, for it lacks a Church which tones down offensive peculiarities and restrains, moulds, and directs the individual."
{26} Möhler, Gesammelte Schriften, Regensb., 1839, I, 260.
{27} Lagarde, op. cit., pp. 45-47.
{28} In a very affecting sketch by J. Jörgensen, a man in a state of desperation says to the poet, whose works have led him astray: "Remember that we live the life that you poets only describe. . . . We heard you say that the good man is the strong and reckless man, -- the man with great pretensions, wild desires, and intense delight in life! . . . We followed your seductive words to the very brink of the ahyss, where you stopped short, whereas we others plunged into its depths" (Parabeln, Mainz, 1899, p. 41).
{29} Cf. Mausbach, Die Kirche und die moderne Kultur, 1912, Kap. 2, in Religion, Christentum, Kirche, III, 191 ff.
{30} A Protestant minister, writing in the "Deutsche Volkszeitung" (Hanover, July, 1910), shows how in Prussia the Catholic Church had repeatedly played the part of catspaw for Protestants by resisting the power of the state. "The Protestant Churches have shared in what the Catholic Church stoutly preserved."
{31} Die Kultur der Gegenwart, Part. I, Section 4 (1906), p. 378.
{32} Christi. Welt, 1908, P. 906.
{33} Protest. und Katholizismus, p. 28.
{34} Cf. the statements in my "Kernfragen," pp. 84, etc., and F. W. Förster, Sexualethik und Sexualpädagogik, 2d ed., pp. 137, etc.
{35} W. James, Varieties of Religious Experience, 1902, p. 297.
{36} Ibid., pp. 357, 8.