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he ministers necessarily, in some degree of limitation, only within the walls of the Church (though of course he should not be content to have it so), and it is for those whom he is building up in the faith, to bring others to hear the Gospel call which he utters. In the long run lay labor will get more people, and get them harder, and keep them longer, than any other method of evangelistic work.

What, then, is a layman? A member of Christ, called with an high calling, laboring to bring others to the blessings he himself so richly enjoys.

"Science cannot kill war, for science has not the new heart, and whets the sword to a sharper edge. Commerce cannot kill war, for commerce lacks the new heart, and lifts the hunger of covetousness to a higher pitch. Progress cannot kill war, for progress has no heart at all, and progress in wrong directions leads us into bottomless quagmires in which we are swallowed up. Law cannot kill war, for law is nothing but a willow withe tied round the arms of humanity, and human nature when aroused snaps all the gates of Gaza. Education cannot end war, and if by education you mean the sharpening of the intellect, the drawing out of the powers of the mind, the mastering of formulas and laws and dates and facts, education may only fit men to become tenfold more masterful in the awful art of slaughter. Who will end war? The world has had three historic scourges: famine, pestilence and war. Each one numbers its victims by the tens of million. Commerce killed famine. By her railroads and steamships she killed it. It lies like a dead snake by the side of the road along which humanity has marched up to the present day. Science killed pestilence. The Black Plague, the Bubonic Plague, Cholera, Smallpox, Yellow Feverall have received their deathblow. Science did the work. These foes of mankind lie bleeding and half dead by the side of the road along which the world presses on to a higher day. Who will kill war? Not Commerce and not Science, not both of them together. Only Religion can kill war, for religion alone creates the new heart. Without religion we are without hope in this world. Without God we are lost."

The Rev. Charles E. Jefferson, D.D.


Rome and Development


OME hath charms for the discontented Anglican; nay, even sometimes somewhat of charm when he is not discontented; an imperial glamour, an autocratic effective discipline, a consensus of taste in worship, that have swept many an Anglican across the Tiber to the Utmost Islands of ecclesiasticism.

Such transitions usually have their intellectual defense, and in the majority of cases one of three reasons is assigned. Either there is a claim that the Papacy presents a more tangible authority than we exhibit; that the Roman voice is "living" while ours is presumably paralysed or inarticulate; or, that on the hypothesis of development now generally recognized by science and philosophy Rome represents more fully than we do what was implicit in the Gospel from the beginning.

For our own consolation we should recognize that the first two of these reasons is based on a confusion of ideas; and that the third, though plausible, is unfortunately for them on their own premises inadmissible, as we shall particularly point out. The confusion of ideas arises from the improper identification of authority and discipline. As a matter of fact Rome's authority is not more consistent than that recognized in other parts of the Catholic Church. It is quite as easy to construct a catena of Roman Catholic divines who differ on various points of faith, and particularly with regard to the doctrine of Papal authority, as it is to construct such a catena of Anglican theologians. As for fundamentals we hold the same creeds, and the formularies we impose are as explicit in their interpretation of the creeds as are the Roman. So far as human knowledge is able to ascertain the facts, our belief in the cardinal doctrines of the Faith rests on the same basis as Rome's. If we owe the definitions of the Trinity and the Incarnation, for example, to the Papal See, we are frankly unable to discover when and where a Pope promulgated them. They come to us, as to Rome, as the great heritage of Catholic tradition. That we do not hold the two dogmas

exclusively defined by the Papal See, or by councils dominated by the Pope, we certainly admit; for we see no reason for accepting them except that the Pope has defined them; and his right to do is the point at issue. The truth is, Rome's authority is not more consistent than ours, but her discipline is more effective. If strict discipline be a criterion of the Catholic Faith, one of the "notes" of the Church, we must confess that Rome is Catholic and we are not. But the most enthusiastic admiration for Roman disciplinary methods cannot logically issue in belief in the Infallibility of the Pope, any more than an appreciation of German efficiency leads to acceptance of the Kaiser's aims. We undoubtedly need much better discipline in our communion, and we must come to it in the interest of greater efficiency; or we are apt to pass through the fire of graver trials than we have yet known. But in comparison with Roman discipline, there is something to be said even for our hectic disorder.

As for the "living voice" of the Pope, despite the fact that modern Rome has erected the theory of his Infallibility into the central doctrine of faith, one has looked so long in vain for a precise definition of that doctrine that he dares to defy any Roman Catholic theologian to tell him beyond dispute when the Pope is speaking ex cathedra, and the rest of it. Opinions about the utterances of the infallible Pope differ as much amongst Roman Catholics as with us opinions differ about the infallibility of the Church. Papists are agreed upon but two utterances of the Pope as unmistakably infallible during the last thousand years-the definitions of 1854 and 1870. The Living Voice argument reduces itself again to a question of discipline: whenever the Pope speaks, whether ex cathedra or not, in the main he gets himself obeyed; while, on the other hand, singly or collectively the bishops of the rest of Catholic Christendom have no machinery with which to enforce their edicts; and upon looking back we do not observe that Catholic bishops ever had such coercive power until the evil day when they called in the arm of the state to make effective their spiritual admonition. Anglican bishops have unquestionably lost the power of enforcing their wills, but their recollection of the evils that accompa

nied its former exercise prevent their mourning the loss. We do, however, need a revival of canonical discipline, and until it comes Papal Authority will continue to receive from many minds the credit that really belongs to the obedience of Papists.

But there is a class of Roman Catholics, including some former Anglicans, who apparently admit some of our historic arguments, and dismiss them as not germane to the case, on the hypothesis of a development of Christian doctrine which is satisfied by the Roman claims. A short time ago, if I may illustrate the point by a personal experience, I conducted an extended argument and correspondence with a fellow clergyman who was on the verge of becoming a Roman Catholic. In reply to my pressing various historical reasons against his proposed course he told me frankly that he knew little and cared less about history, but insisted that I would obtain satisfactory answers to my objections from a distinguished Roman Catholic scholar of England under whose influence he had been a short time before. In compliance with this suggestion I wrote to this gentleman and requested him to indicate to me the historical evidence for the doctrine of Papal Infallibility upon which he relied, historical evidence, of course that is, other than the so-called Petrine texts of the Gospels. In a long and courteous reply he frankly admitted that the historical evidence was slender and taken alone not convincing, a statement that he promptly sought to justify by alleging that so also was the historical evidence for the Trinity, for the Incarnation, for the doctrines of the Church and of the sacraments. Papal Infallibility had been "implicit" in ancient times, and was only made "explicit" in 1870; it had always "unconsciously" been the faith of Christendom, but "consciously" became so only as need arose, etc., etc. In short he sketched the theory of development that has so often been urged in defense of Papalism.

It has undoubtedly more to say for itself than has any other argument that can be advanced in behalf of the modern Roman Catholic position, and it is in virtue of this argument undoubtedly that many a Roman Catholic since Cardinal Newman has remained in the communion of the Pope. Indeed, it has car

ried my friend across the Tiber. It has its force precisely on the ground urged by my English correspondent, the analogy between the development of the doctrine of Papal Infallibility and the development of doctrine generally.

The subtle mind of Newman first conceived it as the way of escape from the intolerableness of the Anglicanism of his day into the haven of a church, that, whatever might be said against her, gave hospitality to Catholic ideas, practice, and devotion. The principles of the theory as Newman outlined them in his famous Essay, were and are essentially sound. Some such theory is demanded by the facts of Christian history, for look where we will, at Rome, at Moscow, at Canterbury, at Geneva (the centers of the several great types of Christianity), no one can for an instant suppose that any of them reproduce the theological atmosphere or the ecclesiastical situation of Galilee and Judea nineteen hundred years ago. There have been obvious changes and developments, a new terminology has come into existence; the mustard seed has become the great shrub. The Catholic of whatever name is concerned only to hold this development true to type, to note legitimate adaptations to changing times; for he cannot and will not admit that the faith was "once for all delivered to the saints" or that there have been additions thereto.

The theory of development has received no particular elucidation at Catholic hands since Newman. Anglicans, while they have generally accepted the premises, have contented themselves with successful comments on Newman's misapplications. Among Roman Catholics there arose a school of writers fifteen years or more ago who, while professing to follow Newman, boldly adapted his theory to suit their own conceptions and strained it to the breaking point. Under cover of defending Roman Catholicism they developed a sort of neo-Catholicism or Modernism, which Pope Pius X in a series of propositions explicitly condemned. The late Father Tyrrell of the Society of Jesus made these ideas popular for a while in the English-speaking world, as did the Abbé Loisy in France. I remember reading The Faith of the Millions when it was first published and regarding

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