Reason, as we have seen thus far, cannot account for man's existence except by referring it to a creative act. The very fact that man can think and judge and freely choose, affords a convincing proof that he has a spiritual soul, which cannot possibly have been called into being except by the omnipotent will of a Creator. Nay, even his body, though composed of matter, must also be referred to the same cause as the ultimate reason of its existence; because as matter is evidently limited in perfection, it cannot be self-existent, since the very concept of self-existence implies infinite perfection. Human nature, therefore, was in its entirety created by an extrinsic, self-existent cause, which, as we shall see presently, can be none other than God, the beginning and end of all things. Now the first and most necessary effect of creation, as far as man is concerned, is undoubtedly his absolute dependence on the Creator. The fact, as well as the nature of this dependence, may to some extent be inferred from a familiar example. I presume that you have, at one time or another, had opportunity of contemplating the feeble beginnings of human life as manifested in a new-born babe. If at such a time you were in a reflective mood, you must have been struck, above all else, with the utter helplessness of the tiny newcomer. Ushered into existence without being at all consulted in the matter, and having in no-wise contributed thereunto, he begins his career in a state of the most absolute dependence. He has received his life from others, and to others he must look for its continuance. He has his wants, as any other human being of maturer years, yet he can do nothing to satisfy them. Unable to use the faculties of his soul or the powers of his body, he can neither flee from danger nor make the slightest effort in his own defense, So absolutely dependent is he upon the loving care of father and mother, or of others who may take their place, that deprived of it, his young life would soon ebb away. Left to himself, he can but utter a cry of distress, and sink into the silent grave.
In a similar manner do we, as creatures, depend on the Creator; with this difference, however, that our dependence is much more absolute and universal. It is a dependence that extends itself to all we are and have and are able to accomplish. For body and soul we are indebted to God's goodness and love and power. The faculties of our souls and the powers of our bodies are gifts of the Creator's bounty; health of body and soundness of mind come from the same divine source; the opportunities we have of invigorating the one and improving the other have been provided by the all-provident Author of our being. And as we have thus been called into existence by divine omnipotence, so must we be sustained by the same at every moment of our lives; for as we have not within ourselves the source of our being, we can continue in existence only so long as we lean upon the power that called us out of nothingness. Nor is it our being only that depends on this creative and sustaining power, but our actions as well. That which is dependent in its essence must be dependent in its operation; because no effect can be superior to its cause. Consequently, though the Creator has endowed us with certain active powers, nevertheless, we cannot use them except in so far as He concurs with our efforts. Without His active co-operation we cannot so much as move a finger. The little babe, to which I referred above, can, independently of its parents, at least shed a tear of sorrow, or utter a cry of distress; yet we, as creatures, can do neither the one nor the other without God's help and assistance. Of ourselves we are nothing, and left to ourselves we can do nothing. For our being and for our actions we depend on the God Who made us.
And as this dependence is so universal that it extends itself to all that is and all that can be, so also is it most absolute; so absolute, in fact, that it makes the creature the inalienable property of the Creator. It matters not who we are, or what we possess, or to what eminence we may attain, there is, and ever must remain, engraven upon all the indelible mark of God's unlimited and unconditioned ownership. We may have the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Samson, the wealth of Croesus, the power of Alexander, the genius of Napoleon; still with all that we cannot wipe away the birthmark that points to the nothingness of our origin and to the insufficiency of our being. Our fellow men may look up to us in wonder and admiration; poets may sing our praise, and history record our greatness; yet through the paeons of praise and acclamations of wonder there resounds evermore the Creator's voice, claiming His own: "Thou art mine -- thou and all thou hast, and all thou canst accomplish." The child may in course of time become independent of the father who begot him, and of the mother who bore him in her womb; but the creature can never become independent of the Creator, for its very being spells dependence.
Now it is because of this universal and absolute dependence that religion is for man a matter of the strictest obligation. Just because man is essentially dependent, therefore must he also be essentially religious. For in whatever way religion may be defined, if the definition be at all a true one, it must ultimately come to this, that the essence of religion consists in a free and practical acknowledgment of man's dependence on God. This acknowledgment is implied in every act of religion. Whether we adore God, or thank Him for benefits received, or implore His help, or offer Him sacrifices, we always appear before Him as beings subject to His authority and dependent upon His bounty. This same acknowledgment of our dependence is expressed by the very name of religion, which as Lactantius so well put it, signifies a bond of filial devotion linking human nature to the divine.{1} Man is religious only in so far as, in harmony with his own nature, he freely submits his intellect and will to the sovereign authority of God, and, in consequence of this submission, brings his life into accord with God's law. And that this submission to God, which finds practical expression in a life of worship and virtue, is for man a matter of the strictest obligation, ought to be quite evident from what has already been said concerning the creature's absolute dependence on the Creator. For if God has called us into being; if He has drawn us out of nothingness; if He sustains and helps us in all we do. then we depend on Him for all we are and have, and then right reason demands that we acknowledge this dependence and act in accordance with the same. Such an acknowledgment is purely and simply a practical admission of the truth, and whoso refuses to make it, renders himself thereby guilty of a falsehood, placing himself in open and direct opposition to the plain and necessary demands of right reason. If we are not gods ourselves, then we are the creatures of God; and if we are the creatures of God, then we must worship Him as our Creator; then His will is sovereign and must be the law that governs our actions.
In the definition of religion just given, it is indeed stated that man's acknowledgment of his dependence on God is a free act, yet this does not imply that he is at liberty to do in the matter as he pleases. Religious worship must be free, because it must be in harmony with man's nature; but that freedom is only physical, not moral. Physically, we are free to refuse God the honor and service that are His due, but morally we are under the strictest obligation to render Him both the one and the other; just as we are physically free to break every law of the state, yet are morally bound to observe these same laws. So absolute and universal are these religious obligations, that God Himself cannot grant a dispensation from them to a single one of His reasonable creatures. Such a dispensation would be a subversion of the whole moral order, and would be tantamount to an open denial of God's authority over the works of His hands. Nay, it would be equivalent to a denial of God's very existence; for it would be in direct opposition to His wisdom and holiness, and as these are essential attributes of the Divinity, it would also be in direct opposition to the Divinity as such, and therefore it would constitute a denial of God's very being. It is metaphysically impossible that a creature should not depend on its Creator, and it is also metaphysically impossible that the Creator should not demand an acknowledgment of this dependence. The creature's dependence is a necessary and objective truth that admits of no exception, and as God, Who is infinitely truthful, must necessarily act in conformity with truth in all its bearings, He cannot possibly allow His creatures to withhold the acknowledgment of their dependence on Him as their Creator.
To illustrate this somewhat abstract matter by a concrete example. Let us suppose that a father were to address his children after this fashion. It is true, I am your father; you owe your existence to me; I have taken care of you, and supplied you with all you needed in your infancy; I also love you dearly, and am most anxious that you should do right; but as to your conduct towards me, I leave that entirely to your own discretion. If you wish to acknowledge me as your father, and honor me as such before men, you may do so; if you refuse to give me a place in your hearts, and to show me any deference in public, I am satisfied; if you do what I tell you, it is well; if you utterly disregard my wishes, it is also well; if you thank me for what I have done in your behalf, I shall be glad; if you forget all benefits received from me, I shall not be offended. In fact, you may treat me as if I had no existence; you may walk your own independent way, and take for your own enjoyment all I possess without so much as saying: "By your leave." Suppose a father were to say this to his children, what would be the comment of his neighbors? What would be your own comment? Why, your first suggestion would be to shut him up in a lunatic asylum. His conduct would be so directly opposed to the plain demands of common sense, that every man and woman would set him down as a fool. There is not a sensible person living who fails to see that the fact of procreation gives rise, not only to the right, but also to the duty of demanding respect and reverence and love and obedience from children. There may be some who are unable to give the philosophical reason why this should be so, but they know that it is so -- it is Nature's own teaching.
Now, if the relation of children to their parents be such that a father cannot dispense his offspring from the duty of honoring and loving and obeying him, can you suppose that the relation of creatures to their Creator admits of any such dispensation? Does the child owe to its parents even the one-tenth part of what a creature owes to its Creator? Parents give of what they have received; God gives of what is absolutely His own. Children depend on their parents only partially and for a limited period of their lives; creatures are dependent on their Creator for all they are and have, and at every moment of their existence. Hence if God, by an impossible supposition, were to dispense His creatures from the obligation of religious worship and service, He would commit a moral wrong, and ipso facto cease to be God.
Again, what would you say if children were to take the law into their own hands? If they were to ignore the most loving of mothers completely and the kindest of fathers? If they were never to give them an affectionate thought or kind word?
If they were to disregard their commands and put themselves into bondage to strangers? You would call them moral degenerates and monsters of impiety who should by rights serve a term in the workhouse Well, apply that to those who set aside their religious obligations. They do worse by God than any child can ever do by its parents. For never did father or mother love their children as God loves His reasonable creatures; and never did children so completely ignore their parents as the irreligious ignore their God. Hence the most immoral of all beings is he who casts off the bonds of religion. He arrogates to himself a power which not even God possesses. The thief is immoral, the murderer is immoral, the libertine is immoral; yet more immoral than any one of these is the irreligious worldling, who ignores the God that made him. His immorality is at once more fundamental and more universal. The immorality of the criminal is but a passing disorder, and is confined to the violation of some particular precept, whereas the irreligious places himself in direct and permanent opposition to the whole moral order. Denying his dependence on God, he takes away the very foundation of morality.
This conclusion is so evident and far-reaching that it leaves no escape except on the supposition that the Creator, whom we call God, is nothing but an ever-present, ever-active force, devoid of all rational existence, without intellect and will, the aggregate of a thousand varied energies, all classed under the one name, Nature. Yet this supposition is not only without foundation, but it involves a manifest contradiction. It is a received axiom in philosophy that whatever perfection is found in the effect produced, must be contained in the producing cause. The truth of this axiom will readily be admitted by every man of common sense; for it is but another way of stating that no one can give what he himself does not possess. Can a sculptor transform a shapeless block of marble into an Apollo or a Hercules, if he has no mental concept of these heroes of the mythical past? Yet this concept is all that he embodies in the marble; it is the one thing which he reproduces outside of himself, and if he did not possess it, he could no more produce said statues than he could see without eyes or hear without ears. Perhaps you say, a machine can make statues as well as any sculptor. Certainly, provided you have a man, or some other rational being, that can make the machine. It always remains true, that whatever is produced must in some manner be contained in the cause that produces it. I say, in some manner, for it is not necessary that an effect be precontained in its cause precisely as it is in itself; it may be there as a perfection of a higher order. Thus, in the example just given, the statue is not in the sculptor's mind as it is in itself; but there is in his mind a perfection at least equal to that which he embodies in marble, and which constitutes the formal being of the statue.
Hence as no one can give what he does not possess, it follows necessarily that all perfections, which are found in the universe, must have their counterpart, that is, an equally high perfection, in the world's Creator; in fact, they can only be so many limited imitations of the Creator's own being. All that is beautiful in nature and in art, is beautiful simply because through it shines a faint glimmer of that divine beauty which served it as a model and exemplar. All that is good and holy is such only in so far as it partakes of that divine goodness and holiness which gave it being and order. All that is noble and high and sublime, can lay claim to these attributes for no other reason than that it resembles Him whose almighty fiat drew the world out of nothingness. There can be no perfection in the created universe, which does not have a corresponding, though a much higher perfection in the Creator; in which higher perfection it is at least virtually included. Yet in the universe there is personality; there is intelligence; there is freedom. Man is a rational nature having individual existence, and therefore he is a person. Man has an intellect; he is capable, not only of perceiving objects by the aid of his senses, but also of forming simple ideas, and of reflecting upon his own cognoscitive acts. Man is free; he has the power of choosing the way in which he will act under given circumstances. Hence man's Creator must have personality -- He must be a personal God, possessed of intelligence and free will. To say that the creative cause of the universe is but a blind, necessarily acting force, is to state in so many words that the effect can be superior to its cause -- a statement which the merest tyro in philosophy would stigmatize as absurd.{2} Nay more, not only must the Creator, contain all the perfections of His creatures, but He must contain them in an infinitely high degree -- He must be infinite. Any one who knows what the universe is, and how it came into being, infers this almost necessarily without any further reasoning about the matter. Take, for instance, a man of ordinary intelligence, and show him the countless stars that stud the midnight sky; tell him that each single one of these twinkling points of light is an immense sun, at least equal in magnitude to our own; tell him also that our sun is so vast in size that it might be sliced up into a million parts, each one of which would be larger than the earth: make him understand that all these big suns are rushing through space with a speed greater than that of a cannon ball, and yet at the same time move with a precision which is not found in the most delicately adjusted machine of human make; then add that all this, so vast, so perfect, so incomprehensible, was produced, not by countless years of stupendous toil, but by one little word: -- what, do you think, will be his comment? Only this: "The person who spoke that little word must be great beyond bounds, and to his power and wisdom there can be no limit." Nature itself would make this comment, and Nature's comments are infallibly true.
What ordinary people thus accept instinctively, philosophers prove by arguments that cannot be gainsaid. The course of reasoning implied in these arguments is necessarily very metaphysical, and therefore more or less beyond the reach of the general reader; yet it may be well to suggest at least one, for the sake of those who wish to study the matter somewhat more thoroughly. The very fact of creation supplies us with such an argument, in as much as the Creator must necessarily be infinite in perfection of being. For that Creator is the First Cause, therefore uncaused and self-existent. He is independent of all that is extrinsic to Himself; because between Him and His creatures there is no community of nature; hence there is nothing to limit His perfections. Nor can He contain within His own being the principle of limitation; for being as such does not limit itself, as was pointed out in the preceding chapter: consequently, He must have being without limit, and therefore He must be infinite. There are no bounds to His intellect and will, even as there are no limits to His being. His knowledge and wisdom, His goodness and holiness, His mercy and justice, and whatever other attributes we may think of, comprise all that their concept implies. As He is the source of all being, so does He contain being in all its fullness.
Reason, therefore, points unmistakably to God as a being that must be worshiped. To Him man must look up in love and reverence and holy awe. Human nature is so constituted that it goes out spontaneously to all that is great and good. It is so in things human, and it must be so in things divine. Hence if man's dependent condition demands religious submission to his Creator, the Creator's infinite perfection calls for enthusiastic spontaneity in that submission. Man is by nature a servant, yet the greatness of his Master makes that servitude a privilege as well as a duty. In spite of all this, men are physically free to withhold the service required by their Maker; they can ignore the Giver and abuse His gifts; they can walk their own independent way, setting completely aside the God Who made them, and fashion for themselves gods of silver and gold, for they are servants, not slaves: but in doing so they make their lives an uninterrupted protest against the very first demands of right reason; they burn into their souls the stigma of blackest ingratitude, and fix between themselves and happiness a gulf which they shall not cross forever.
This unavoidable conclusion of an argument that cannot be gainsaid, is still further enforced by the voice of Nature that speaks in every human heart. In fact, to the man of good will, who is prepared to follow the dictates of right reason in whatever way they may manifest themselves, there would be no need of further proof to establish the necessity of religion, than the irrepressible cravings of his own nature for an object that he can worship, and in the worship of which he finds rest for his soul. For as this craving is universal, and independent of the material conditions with which man may be surrounded, it must needs proceed from human nature as such, and voices, therefore, an essential need of that nature. It is, as Tertullian so pithily put it, the testimony of a soul that is Christian by nature.{3} Even Cicero, the Roman orator and philosopher, though a pagan, so clearly recognized the force of this argument that he inferred from it without hesitation the existence of God, saying: "The consensus of all nations must needs be received as an expression of Nature's law."{4} Nor can the existence of this interior tendency towards an object of worship be doubted. A mere glance into our own hearts reveals it in all its force. Our whole being yearns and craves for something that is better than we ourselves are; for something to which we can cling in our weakness and indigence; for something that can fill the void of our hearts, which no things of earth can fill. And this craving and yearning is not only an intermittent condition, but it is always present in the depths of our souls. It may, indeed, for the time being be overshadowed by material interests and temporal cares; it may be lost sight of amid the glamour and glare of wordly prosperity; but as soon as the soul is allowed to fall back upon herself, she is conscious of this undefined longing, which reaches out into the infinite -- the infinite in time and the infinite in perfection of being. It is the yearning of the creature after its Creator, the longing of the child for its Father -- it is a manifestation of the kinship that links human nature to the divine.
This gravitation of our whole being towards an object which we can worship, goes far towards proving that religion is a necessary consequence of creation. It does not put the claims of the Creator before the mind in syllogistic form, but it presents them with a clearness and force that resembles intuition. Hence we find that religion as such is a universal historical fact, not confined to any age or country, but the salient feature of all ages, and the common property of all nations. The famous saying of Plutarch, that there may be found cities devoid of all that is necessary for material well-being, but none that are without temples and religious rites, is as true to-day as it was when first uttered more than eighteen centuries ago. Men may fail to give proper expression to the religious needs of their nature, but altogether disregard them they cannot. Even the most pronounced enemies of religion fall unwittingly under its potent sway. They strive, indeed, to dethrone God and to abolish religious worship, but instead of the true God they set up ideal humanity, or some other idol, before which they bow in lowly reverence. Man's religious instinct is identified with his very nature, and to divest himself of it, he must first cease to be human.
Hence whether we study man's origin, or consider the most obvious needs of his nature, we always come to the same conclusion, namely, that religion must form an essential part of man's life. Without religion, man is untrue to himself and untrue to the God Who made him. Refusing to be the servant of his Creator, he makes himself the slave of creatures.
{1} Inst. Divin. l. 4, c. 28.
{2} Hence the common sense of mankind has always held fast to the idea of a personal God, whose providence and power reaches out to all. How true this is has been strikingly pointed out by Lacordaire in his Fourth Conference. "God," he says, "is here on earth the most popular of beings. In the midst of the fields, leaning upon the implement of his labor, the cultivator of the soil lifts his eyes to heaven and he names God to his children by a motion as simple as his soul. The poor call upon Him, the dying invoke Him, the wicked fear Him, the just man blesses Him, kings surrender to Him their crown, armies place Him at the head of their battalions, victory gives Him thanks, defeat asks Him for help, the people arm themselves through Him against their tyrants; there is no time, nor place, nor occasion, nor feeling where God does not appear and where He is not named. What is there in this word? 'shall I solemnly assert it upon oath?' Nothing but a name, it is true, but that is the name of God. It is the name that all nations have adored, in whose honor temples were built, priesthoods consecrated, prayers addressed. It is the greatest, the holiest, the most efficacious, the most popular name that the lips of man have received the grace to pronounce."
{3} Apolog. c. 7.
{4} De Natura Deorum, 1. I, fl. 23.