IF a religious-minded voyager from another planet were to visit the earth in search of the true religion, what bewilderment would be his; how he would be confounded! It would be remarkable if, at the end of his quest, he departed for his own world with his sanity unimpaired.
Religiously speaking, as well as in many other respects, the earth presents a sad sight to us of the spirit world who are able to see what transpires there. Could that illustrious soul, who spoke to one small corner of the earth nearly two thousand years ago, have ever foreseen or imagined in what manner his words would have been written down, distorted, and later become the material for hundreds upon hundreds of contending religious parties, sects, and denominations?
The word 'sect' is a familiar one to you. It is the habit on earth to address by that title other religious bodies as a means of showing the speaker's own religious superiority, and at the same time expressing contempt and disapproval of another denomination.
Christianity is subdivided into almost numberless individual Churches, with a corresponding profusion of perplexing doctrinal contentions.
When I was upon earth I belonged successively to two denominations—the two principal ones of my native land. Even that statement would be challenged by the parties concerned, for neither would acknowledge that the other was the chief. In the second of these two bodies I was ordained priest, and so remained until I passed into the spirit world.
Before I seceded from the first to the second, I went through the usual 'soul-searching,' found that I was profoundly dissatisfied with things as they were, and was 'received' into what I fondly believed was the one true Church. That brought me a measure of happiness, or at least contentment of mind. It was not till I arrived here at my dissolution that I saw that I had perturbed myself unnecessarily in the first instance for neither of the two Churches to which I had given my services as a minister was in possession of the truth. That raises a particular point in this subject of the true religion.
Many folk on earth contend that no one religion does or can possess all spiritual truth, but that each religion has some truth in it. It is, however, a statement that leads to very great difficulties. How many religious denominations are there scattered throughout the earth world, that is to say, Christian denominations? There are hundreds. How is one to recognise the truth in any whose claims you may choose to examine? Is there any canon by which you could apply a test; any criterion? Those are two questions for you to answer.
You may prefer to weigh the claims and pretensions of one against those of another, and then what? Trust your reason to do the rest? That is what I did when I became dissatisfied with the Church in which I was brought up and of which my own father was the highest dignitary. I applied reason and logic—at least that is what I supposed myself to be doing. In point of fact, what I did was to examine the claims of both parties side by side, and so came to the conclusion that the 'party of the second part' spoke with an authority which was completely lacking in the 'party of the first part.'
Then what happened? Proof, such proof as folk demand when it is declared that the spirit world exists, and that we, its inhabitants, can visit the earth and speak with our friends there, proof of that kind was wholly absent. I accepted the new position on faith alone, and later assumed the attitude that is common in that religious body—namely, that of spiritual superiority, religious intolerance and cocksureness. I had 'come home,' as my co-religionists are wont to term it.
One used to hear—and you still do so now—much talk about Christian unity. I thought of that in my very early days, and often wondered why the Churches could not unite. When I seceded, I knew the answer—as I thought: mine was the one true Church, and infallible. How could truth be joined to error. All the other religious bodies were in a state of schism or heresy, or both. Even the holy orders which I believed I had possessed were denounced—and still are—as 'absolutely null and utterly void.'
I was, in fact, a layman, when I had considered myself a properly ordained minister, so that, high dignitary of the Church though my father was, when I seceded and was re-ordained, I was compelled to regard him as a layman by force of superior knowledge now that I had the 'true faith.' Though at first I was a simple priest, yet was I canonically head and shoulders above my father because I had then been ordained validly.
How poor, puny, and petty that all seems now. Even when I had made my immediate advent into spirit lands, I felt all this web of theology, which had entangled my mind had I but known it, to be falling away from me in the light of the real, absolute truth. I had, upon my secession, relinquished the shadow to grasp the substance (so I thought), but now I found that I had only exchanged one form of shadow for another.
When I met my father here, you can imagine how rapturous were our first greetings, for we were met at last in the land where the truth abides upon every hand. How amused we were, as we went over together the various conversations we had had on earth, and bethought ourselves of the amount of time and effort and patience we had devoted to discussing the relative claims of at least two Churches. We are now spiritually one in the supreme truth beyond all doubt, disputation, or speculation.
That all or most of the religions on earth have some grain of truth in them, however small, is a statement that itself has a grain of truth in it. If you examine a few of them, you will perceive it for yourself. This is sometimes hailed as a sign of divine wisdom and authenticity, if I may so describe it. The truth, it is averred, cannot be entrusted to one religious body alone, but it is split up so that all religions possess a fraction of it which, when combined, make a perfect whole, and it is this combination, or gathering together of the absolute truth, that takes place in heaven. There are no religious controversies in that salubrious place because there one is in the presence of all the religions of earth, and the truth is one at last.
As a theory that is all very well. As a fact it is all very wrong. Certainly you will find some one teaching or another, in any specific religious body, which is a spiritual truth, but what of the rest of the same Church's teachings? For the sake of possessing that one small truth you must also submit to take upon yourself a load of spiritual errors. How are you to select, from the whole body of one Church's teaching, that which is perfect truth? The only course is not to try—by anything approaching orthodox methods.
As an alternative, and to be sure of being in complete possession of all the truth, you would have to become a member of all the religious denominations of the earth, both great and small—hundreds and hundreds of them—so as to be certain of not missing one fragment of the truth. That would be manifestly impossible, earthly life being so short. Even then, the problem would not be solved for you would still be uncertain—to put it mildly—what was true spiritual teaching and what was not.
Would it not be possible, do you think, to write down in parallel columns upon a very large sheet of paper the multiform teachings of all the Churches, observing closely where the teachings or beliefs were exactly similar, or close enough for working purposes, then noting what was common to all and most repeated in some, and so strike a balance or effect a compromise? That way, I fear, would your difficulties only increase.
Such method is something of the kind that is in the Churchmen's minds when the cry for Christian unity goes up. Would it not be possible, they plead, for some least common factor to be found upon which all Christian Churches could agree, and upon this basis unite, just as in the early days when the Church was one and undivided? Was it? Was the Church ever in that perfect state?
History and historians seem to declare that the Church was always troubled with heresy, and by its members becoming dissatisfied with things as they were, and going off and founding religions of their own. Schisms and heresies have always existed. But could not one Church or religious body (still to persist in the matter) be distinguished from all others as being the first, the absolute first, devolving without question from its founder?
At last we seem to have arrived at our destination through our 'progress backwards' in history and time. Of course, there must be an absolute first, but which, it is most difficult to say for there are several claimants, each strenuously and with loud voice denying the others.
When I was on earth I thought I had found the first and original, the only Church. Everything seemed to point that way. It was comparatively easy to dispose of the claims of the others by listening to the voice of Authority. The Church to which I had previously belonged always boasted that it did not lay down any rigid canons of belief, but allowed its people to exercise their own private judgement, and think and believe practically what they liked. In this way, all schools of religious thought could be included within the one framework of the establishment.
This, in effect, was what had always been done in this particular Church ever since its foundation—liberty of thought, private judgement—until the liberty became a little too free and unrestrained, when the fires were lighted and the heretics burned for their rashness and wickedness. They were martyrs for the faith. Their crown of martyrdom has since become slightly tarnished in the eyes of many of the incarnate.
It is not an edifying spectacle to witness all this ecclesiastical wrangling, with claim and counterclaim as well as accusation and acrimony, within the structure of the 'divinely instituted Church'.
How would our visitant from another planet view all this? With what feelings? He would note many things, just as we observe them from the spirit world. We see, for one thing, dwindling congregations in the Churches. Some of the clergy have also noticed it themselves, and those in authority say that the world is rapidly turning heathen and godless.
Decay has set in, in the Churches, and no one can stop it. They wonder why. They ask a few people for their opinion, who say that they do not go to Church any more, because the services are, for one thing, so dull. Such a reply sorrowfully surprises the ministers because religious worship should not be spoken of in terms of dullness. Church services are not a form of amusement or light recreation. They are beautiful, and the language of the liturgy itself is inspiring—especially those portions of it which the congregation cannot understand.
The Church accuses the laity of degenerating into pagans because, by their congregational absence, they have abandoned God, and now worship materialism. They find (it is alleged) the worldly counter-attractions too compelling to be withstood upon the one day of the week when they should turn their minds to God in worship in His Church. Abolish the counter-attractions of the Sunday, say some, and that would help to fill the Churches.
Would it really—and with willing worshippers? This smacks uncommonly of compulsion. Does God require or demand compulsion in His worship? Does not this suggest paganism at its worst—the very paganism of which the Church condemns the laity? The services as they stand at present—and they have not altered appreciably since my days on earth—literally reek of paganism.
Approach the prayer-book with an absolutely clear mind, clear of all preconceptions upon the nature and character of the Father of Heaven and Earth, and examine the prayers for yourself. What do you see? As though you were an analytical expert seeing them for the first time, what can you deduce from the set form of prayers? You would be compelled to say that whoever God may be to whom you are addressing your ejaculations and petitions, this is His character as revealed by the writers of the prayers.
By the very framing of the sentences, their preambles, their contents, and their terminations, the writers must be supposed to know and understand something of the nature of the Being to whom the prayers are being directed. Your analysis might read thus: The God whom you worship must be gratified with much homage since so much stress is laid upon the word worship.
It is impossible to deduce what pleasure or profit He can derive from such exaggerated adulation. It is manifestly wrong by all canons of spiritual conduct to accord worship to any human individual or thing upon earth as to a god. What effect, if any, can there be upon the one supreme Being of great surges of praise arising to Him from the people of earth, assuming that such praise ever reaches Him?
It must be concluded that this praise is earnestly believed to be acceptable to the Deity, and must make Him favourably inclined towards whatever requests and petitions are to accompany it. It would appear that all supplications must be prefaced by extreme adulation before any reasonable hope can be entertained that the prayerful request will be granted.
In the event of the prayer not being answered, and no reason being able to be assigned for its failure, it must, by the use of such phrases as 'Thy will be done,' be assumed that the answer to prayer depends not so much upon its merits or urgency, but upon the particular whim of God. Wherefore it may be presumed that He is of uncertain temperament—that is, capricious. That He is of pronounced uncertain temper is evidenced by the varied headings under which the prayers are comprised, where, for instance, protection is sought from storms and other meteorological disturbances of varying nature, or from famines. For a truly benevolent God would never visit His children with such calamities as are generally believed to have their source in the Deity.
The occurrence of war, for example, is usually attributed to the wrath of God being visited upon a sinful or erring nation or world. The wrath of God is mentioned in some of the prayers, and though wrath itself on occasion may be righteous, so it is claimed, yet it is never a pleasant emotion to be openly displayed, especially when it is the direct cause of wars in which so many thousands of the innocent are bound to suffer. True justice would therefore not seem to be part of the Deity's character for in no sense can that be strict justice where the innocent are punished with the guilty. Nor is there evidence of strict justice where so much mercy is pleaded, and so often, and presumably with the hope of receiving it. For where does true justice enter where mercy is extended?
Is not the intelligence of the supreme Being grossly underrated when certain irrelevant interpolations are made in the prescribed order of the services? The Ten Commandments, for instance, are said to have emanated from God. Can it afford Him any pleasure, therefore, to hear them recited in numerical order as part of the liturgy in His worship? Were it merely necessary to remind the congregations of the existence of the Ten Commandments, could they not be so recalled without obtruding upon the service of worship itself? It must be assumed then that their recital carries with it some talismanic value, which in itself seems a reversion to the primitive times when superstition was only a trifle more widespread than it is today.
The conclusions to be drawn from the openings of all prayers is that God must be placated and appeased by fulsome adulation, for which He has an obvious weakness, and that they must be terminated by references to theological doctrine whose obscurity of meaning must leave those who utter the prayers in extreme doubt as to the purport of what they are saying. It would appear that meaningless though the words may be, no prayer, for some inexplicable reason, can be considered of any value whatsoever without their recital.
The claim that God is all love is greatly confused and largely contradicted by the numerous begging appeals against the visitation of all manner of calamities, of which, it is to be supposed, He is the source, and for which no rationally minded person on earth has ever been able to perceive the just cause.
Those are some of the conclusions which you might reasonably be expected to draw were you to read a prayer-book for the first time, and with a mind perfectly clear of any bias, prejudices, or preconceptions, religious or otherwise.
Orthodox religion is founded upon a series of dreadful errors, the most outrageous of which is the monstrous idea of the nature of the Father of the Universe.
The cry is for Christian unity. Suppose it were to be brought about, what then? Would it solve all problems, or any problems at all? There was a time when the Church was very nearly one. Were those days any better than the present times? Can the Church prevent the most horrific of all occurrences—the occurrence of war, which has gone on intermittently through the passage of the centuries, yet so persistently as to introduce into at least one language the terms 'war-time' and 'peace-time.'
Does not the Church, by implication and by its actions, approve of war? If not, how does it come about that its ministers should bless with ceremonial the very implements of war? Is it not to make a mockery of God to ask His benediction upon instruments that are to be employed in the killing of men?
Why has the Church been riven with divisions and controversies and rivalries of sufficient ferocity to make men hate their neighbours, to cause acts to be passed for the suppression of religious liberty whereby the offender shall be burnt at the stake for his 'heresy' or his 'apostasy' or his 'schism,' or tortured in the name of Holy Religion? Why has the Church failed, and failed dismally? These are many questions, my friends, for you to answer, if you wish, according to your views.
What is the truth as we know it in the spirit world? The spirit world, it would be surmised, is the one place where all religious problems must be resolved. A correct surmise. Then how could Christian unity be achieved? There is only one way.
It might be thought that if one could possibly get all people to think alike upon the subject of religion, then unity would be quickly and easily brought about. But people thought almost alike in the days when the Church was presumed to be one and undivided. Nevertheless the divisions came, because people began to think not alike. In other words, they began to think differently, and it must be allowed that all men, of whatever nation or period of time, should be at liberty to think differently from their neighbours.
Of course. No one could quarrel with that. In the spirit world we can think what we like, but our thoughts, as with you, are regulated or influenced by our knowledge. Religious unity can never come about upon a basis of what men think, though they may, at least for the time, think alike. It must be based upon what they know. It must be based upon as full a knowledge of the facts as it is possible to acquire.
Religious unity founded upon spiritual truth, absolute truth, is the only unity that can endure. There is no disputing that which is truth, absolute truth, ascertained and proved to be such. Religious truth as dispensed by Orthodoxy is more often than not merely the expressed opinions of doctors and fathers of the Church.
Unity based upon opinions cannot last. Unity based upon natural spiritual laws will abide forever. Is not the science of mathematics founded upon fact, numerical truth? Who is there who would dispute the multiplication tables? Has there been any schism among mathematicians because some scientist expressed his opinion that two and two are five? Is it ever likely to happen? Never, so long as sanity prevails throughout the earth.
Religion, as it is generally understood, concerns among other things the welfare of the spiritual part of man, and it is the most vitally important of all subjects under the earthly sun. But religion is a veritable battleground of contention where it should rest upon a high degree of exactitude acquired from absolute knowledge. If the religions had less of opinion and more of knowledge, disruption would begin to vanish with the rapidity of morning mist in the warmth of the rising sun.
If the Churches do really and sincerely desire to become one, their only hope of ever achieving unity is by discovering the spiritual truth, and in the light of it, casting out from their creeds and doctrines every article that is against that truth. There will then be no need to place their doctrinal cards upon the table for all to see. There will be no need to search for at least a common factor upon which all can find some measure of agreement. Verity speaks for itself. Its voice is clear and clamant, and cannot be gainsaid.
What are the possibilities of such unity ever being brought about under the conditions that I have suggested to you? As we view matters in the spirit world, there will surely come a time when the truth will be diffused throughout the earth. That is bound to happen eventually. Perhaps you will say that since the Church was first instituted, hundreds of years ago, affairs have become steadily worse, the divisions have increased in number and range, while many strange religious sects have arisen in all parts of the earth, each holding the most bizarre beliefs. Of the latter, one need scarcely take heed. They are mostly the outcome of slightly disordered minds, and they will disappear in time.
The Church that first came into being is not comparable with the numerous organisations known collectively under that appellation today. Was a Church instituted? The great founder of Christianity, so-called, was not the least interested in founding any Church. In good truth, he founded no Church in spite of the alleged references to 'my' Church. He had no intention of establishing Church or Chapel nor any other form of religious organisation. He came to give simple teaching to simple folk, showing them how to live their lives on earth, and how to behave towards their neighbours.
He told them that the God of wrath, as they understood Him to be, was indeed no God of wrath at all, but the Father of all love. He told his hearers that death of the physical body was not the end of all things, but the real beginning of life, a new life in the immense world of the spirit. He told them that such gifts as he possessed and demonstrated, of healing the sick and speaking spiritual truths, were not mystical or magical gifts, nor were they operated through the power of the devil, but that they were natural gifts which they could themselves develop and use in the service of their fellows, if they went about it in the right way.
He showed his hearers how the mourner could and should be comforted in the only possible way, for the so-called dead were not dead; they were very much alive, and could speak in precise, clear terms, just as he was then addressing his audience. That it was right and proper to do so was evidenced, among other things, by the great consolation which such communication brought to the bereaved in being able to speak once again with those whom they had thought had passed for ever from their ken. That was what the founder of Christianity told his followers. How does that compare with the extraordinary and unnatural beliefs of the first and undivided Church? Strangely, indeed.
As the present Church claims to be the lineal descendant of that early Church, it is simple enough to see the wide disparity between the teaching of Jesus and the queer collection of doctrines and dogmas now held by the Church. If the theorists wish to refer to the primitive Church, they must eventually go still farther back, and it will mean a wholesale reconstruction of their beliefs, with the equally wholesale elimination of the many religious practices which have no approximation to the truth nor any value whatever spiritually.
The Church must in fact start de novo, sweeping the board clear of all the theological rubbish and accumulation which have been piled upon it during the passing of the centuries. If they were to study the life of the Master Christian even from the scanty chronicles that exist, and copy his methods, they would have something solid upon which to build their Christian unity. The theological forest has become obscured by its own distorted and too abundant trees.
There was a time in history when men developed a passion for reforming the Church. At least, that is what they called it. The reforms which they introduced were mostly the outcome of muddled thinking, with very occasionally a minute move in the right direction. But in casting out some belief which was considered no longer tenable, they substituted others equally without truth, and generally caused so much hatred, not only of themselves but of their new ideas, that feelings ran high, and blood flowed, while the list of the 'martyrs' grew. Of what use such reforms as those?
The Church of the present time has grown highly organised. It is much concerned with affairs of the earth as they affect it ecclesiastically, but the great world of the spirit is woefully neglected. The one institution on earth which, by virtue of its very claims and functions, should be most actively in communion with us, is cut off and separated from us. The whole Christian Church is in a state of 'schism' with us of the spirit world!
To the great bulk of the clergy, the spirit world is a silent world of the dead. They cannot answer the straightforward questions of a despairing soul: what has become of my dear ones who have left this earth? Where are they? Why is there this cruel silence, and why cannot you, the appointed (self-appointed) ministers of God's Church, give us, who are so deeply in sorrow, some real comfort, some truth?
We do not want speculations; we do not wish now to hear about God's mercy—that will not dry our tears, nor stop their flow. We do not wish to hear quotations from the scriptures about faith, nor to be given spurious comfort from a book hundreds of years old. Our loved ones passed from this earthly life this very week. Why turn to a book so old when we are speaking of now, this actual moment of time, within the week of our sad loss?
You say to us blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. If you insist upon throwing that text at us, then where is that comfort? Give us the comfort, not some religious counterfeit.
How would you, my dear friends, have answered such a despairing cry from the heart had you been in my position when I was on earth? Yet, as a minister of the Church I should have been able to answer such an afflicted soul with the truth. Alas, I could not; all that I could do was call for the exercise of faith upon the part of the distressed one, and to have hope and trust in God's mercy, backed by the powerful intercession of the true Church.
For had not the departed soul been 'fortified by the rites of our Holy Mother the Church'? Incidentally, so had I when my time came to depart, but I cannot say that those rites availed me anything whatever!
What word of real consolation had I to offer when some sad soul came to me for help? I could not give of my knowledge, for of knowledge I had none. Whatever I might have guessed or thought privately, it was not my business to reveal what was in my mind concerning the 'afterlife,' but to speak upon the Church's teaching and authority alone, and the Church had 'no statement to make.'
However secure I felt in other circumstances with the might of the Church behind me, in such moments as these we are discussing I realised to the full my helplessness through ignorance. I could talk freely and fluently upon the sacraments, upon the Church's teaching concerning this or that. I could urge more faith upon the part of my suppliant; I could offer my own prayers, which I can see now served precious little purpose because they were altogether upon the wrong lines.
I could advise others to pray, too, and leave it for them to find the words of their supplication. My rejoicing at being a member of the One True Church was, at such times as these, somewhat tempered—to put it mildly—when in cases of real spiritual need, the best I had to offer was empty hollow phrases upon stereotyped lines, and trust to time to dim the memory and heal the sore of affliction of those who came to see me.
The founder of Christianity had more to tell his listeners about the welfare of the soul after the death of the physical body than have all the Churches of Christendom this very day.
Christian unity as envisaged by the clergy and laity is a state where the whole earth is conforming, more or less, to the one body of teaching, where the members of one persuasion are in communion with those of another. And would the earth be any the better for such unity? None whatever, for it would merely be a unity of error.
Though the unity might endure for a measurable time, yet in the end it would be bound to be dissevered once again, and so repeat the whole performance of divisions and schisms and controversies. The Church on earth at these present times is worn out because it has nothing to offer any thinking man or woman but lifeless doctrines. Indeed, the Church itself is lifeless, despite the appearance of activity that is to be observed.
How shall the Church be regarded? By results? What are they? The Church is powerless to prevent wars upon earth because it has no influence with the governments of the earth. Were the Churches to unite upon a common platform of 'No War,' who in authority would listen? The religious teachers accept war as a punishment of God for the world's wickedness. And if such were the case, then it must be manifestly wrong to cry out against or condemn what has been declared as a just and divine punishment. Such are the tortuous, serpentine ways of the theologians!
Christian unity is far more concerned with ancient ecclesiastical history, with valid or invalid orders, with ceremonial and ritual and vestments, with rubric, with Church buildings and appurtenances, and with preferment and livings. The leaders of religion are occasionally to be observed rapping the laity upon the knuckles ever so gently because they do not attend the services in sufficiently large numbers, and because they profane the Sabbath with material enjoyments instead of packing the Church and giving evidence of how virile religion really is.
Viewed from the inside, there is religious intolerance and self-satisfaction; viewed from the outside—from the spirit world—we can see just how much a mockery of the truth is Orthodoxy. Hundreds of years of false teachings that have had to be set right with the unhappy victims of them in the spirit world. The institution that is supposed to send its members fully equipped for the journey into the 'great beyond,' in fact sends its voyagers all-ignorant of spiritual knowledge, ill-equipped in every way, and so often paralysed with fear of what is to happen to them.
If you wish to know whether the Churches have failed, ask us of the spirit world, and we can provide you with a plain unequivocal answer in one short word: Yes. If all the Churches of the earth were to unite in their present state of ignorance, the failure would still continue.
It is customary for ministers to cast their minds back wistfully into the past, to those days of religious unity which they call 'the age of Faith.' Let them turn their minds in another direction, to the age of Fact, of fact acquired, secured, and proved, and casting all their theological speculations aside, base a real Unity upon spiritual truth, for mighty is the truth, and it will prevail.