Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors]

British novelists, says, "To begin with, there is always the same young man. He has usually decided, when we meet him, that there is nothing in religion; he is usually anxious to do something noble and unconventional; and sooner or later he nearly always encounters very seriously a young woman of, actually or potentially, light morals." There is the group characterized for you by one who is a novelist in her own right. Take as an illustration of the literary attitude this incident from Mr. Galsworthy's Freelands, published since the war began: A young girl in the first toils of unbelief, goes for advice to a distinguished journalist in London, and lays her difficulties before him. And this is the merciful gospel which he preaches,

"Does one wish to make even an attempt to define God to oneself? Frankly, I don't! I'm content to feel that there is in one some kind of instinct toward perfection that one will still feel when the lights are going out, some kind of honour forbidding one to let go and give up. That's all I've got; I really don't know that I want more."

Nedda clasped her hands.

"I like that," she said.

When a modern young woman asks Mr. Galsworthy for a faith, she shall receive a stone.

Among all the modern school there is but one voice eagerly raised in defense of the old faith, and that is the voice of Mr. Chesterton. Oddly enough, among all the writers of our time, none has been more commonly distrusted than the author of Orthodoxy and The Flying Inn. Distrusted, I say, not misunderstood. For none could misunderstand one whose clarity is so bell-like. I think it must be because Mr. Chesterton will have no compromise whatever — not even in inessentials — with modern Protestantism and its peculiar doctrines. At any rate, he has failed to receive much recognition from the Anglican communion. Indeed, many of us are not aware that he is a member of our communion. When defenders of the faith are so few, it would seem to be sheer inexpediency, if it is nothing

worse, to neglect one who has been faithful found among the faithless.

66

Yes, for the would-be literary atheism is once more a necessity." That is, it has become de rigueur for the progressivelyminded. One wears it a bit jauntily, as he might wear a wristwatch. His face is set towards the future why, Heaven knows - and his back is, quite appropriately, turned on the rest of humanity. And whenever he looks towards the Church it is with the agreeable emotions of a superior man. It would be a mistake to say that he neglects to think of her. He can still deplore a shattered cathedral in France, though he never deplores a neglected altar in America. He will almost tolerate the Church as the custodian of certain treasures of art- the Church is, he thinks, at least not so bad as the State - but for the Church as a teaching body he has nothing but contempt.

O reverend fathers, have you nothing to say to these men! Do you think they care to hear you preach humanitarianism? Will you try to feed them on appeals for the Ladies' Auxiliary Society? You go on genially presenting them and the brood that follows them with matins and a well-reasoned discourse on charity or ethical commonplace. The hungry sheep look up and are not fed. No wonder. Appetite for religion does not last very long in a parish where the sermons are "timely " and the human hearts are cold. This isn't a question of Church attendance alone. You may have full pews and empty heads. It is a question whether the world can be made to realize that the Church has something to give a life-giving gospel, a lifegiving Eucharist. Already the majority of men find that literature and charitable institutions are between them a satisfactory substitute for the Church. And, unless there is a truth in the Church which no human truth can approach in value, unless there are direct gifts in her seven sacraments, I am quite sure that they are right.

Once more, therefore, under new conditions appears the old issue. It is Christ against the world. The wolf is outside and about and within the fold. The necessity of facing atheism confronts the teachers of Christianity. The world asks with

a sneer whether Christianity has failed. Our gratitude for that question should be unbounded, since it implies that Christianity ought to have within it force enough to have prevented the greatest catastrophe of history. Let us thank God that the world has asked the question. But let us not try to answer the world with its own wisdom.

Chauncey Brewster Tinker.

Eucharistic Doctrine and Reservation

S

OME months ago I was asked by one of our most beloved and respected bishops to write him a letter defining my ideas with regard to the lawfulness of Reservation. The connection between Eucharistic doctrine and the history of Reservation has always been very close, and the tenor of my letter to him was in large measure determined by this fact. A few friends to whom I ventured to show the letter advised me to convert it into an article for publication. The result of following this advice is here given. There has been rearrangement and expansion, but no attempt to remove all traces of the epistolary style.

I. THE REAL PRESENCE

It should be clear that the doctrine of the Real Presence of our Lord's Body and Blood in the consecrated Sacrament needs to be reckoned with in any intelligent consideration of the question of Reservation. It is the standpoint of belief in that doctrine which explains both the origin of the custom of reserving for the sick and the later devotional developments connected with Reservation.

The phrase" Real Presence " has become ambiguous because, thanks to philosophical developments and to much controversy, both of the words, "real" and "presence", have ceased to retain fixed meanings. I therefore begin by defining their traditional use. According to that use, to call the presence "real"

means that it is of objective nature and independent of our faith or apprehension of it. The word "presence" means an identification, that is sacramental identification, of what is present with the local thing or consecrated bread and wine in which it is said to be present. Speaking negatively, it does not mean a realistic or physical presence. That is, it is not after the bodily manner, involving spatial movements from heaven to earth, or any physical change which would destroy the reality of the bread and wine after their consecration. In brief, the doctrine is not materialistic, but describes a spiritual mystery transcending definition; although it makes the consecrated elements the locus and medium of our laying hold of the unseen gift. The nerve of the doctrine lies in the thought that this spiritual mystery is achieved by the consecration itself, prior to communion, and with as long a continuance as the existence of the elements themselves—that is, the presence continues until the elements are destroyed either by human consumption of them or by corruption.

Such a doctrine we deduce from the fact that the Sacrament constitutes an objective entity entitled to our Lord's descriptive words, "This is My Body," "This is My Blood." It is, of course, to be admitted that our Lord's language was symbolical, but it was not metaphorical. The difference is this. A metaphor has only the value of an analogy. For example, when our Lord described Himself as "the door," He was obviously using only a figure of speech. But a symbol means more than a metaphor. It means a description that is objectively true, but is inadequate to the mystery. Thus we call the Creed a "Symbol of Faith," not meaning that it is merely metaphorical, but that the mysteries set forth in it are vaster than the words which we use can fully express.

No human language was available which could adequately set forth the meaning of our Lord when He said, "This is My Body." He chose those words because they were the most nearly adequate that could be had. And so they have become the form of sound words" for the Church ever since. He chose them in spite of the obvious risk of their being inter

preted materialistically. Because He did choose them, and used no other terms to express what He meant, we seem bound to emphasize them and to treat them not as figures of speech so much as introductions to a mystery which we cannot fully fathom. Anyhow we seem precluded from accepting any interpretation which would have the effect of reducing, instead of emphasizing, their wonderful significance. We know that we are not here concerned with anything unworthy of God. It is no magic, nor any species of wonder that would subvert natural laws. Rather it is the bringing of what we see into a relation to, and connection with, the unseen Body and Blood of the Lord of Glory.

This brings us to the objectivity of the mystery. In a sense which is too full rather than too defective for the language employed, we hold that the consecrated species are the Body and Blood of Christ, and are to be honored as such. It is true that the consecrated bread and wine are still there as bread and wine, for the Sacrament has two parts. But our apprehension of, and therefore our reverence for, the invisible Body and Blood of Christ, is through the visible bread and wine with which the Lord has mysteriously identified them for our faith. To adore the Sacrament, therefore, is not to adore creaturely elements as such, but is to adore Him as presenting Himself to us in His Body and Blood through the visible things which we see. These visible things give direction to our worship of the invisible, and do not themselves constitute the terminus ad quem of our worship.

II. DEVOTION BEFORE THE RESERVED SACRAMENT: OBJECTIVITY

On this basis has developed, with time and devout meditation, the idea that the appointed purposes of the Sacrament - Com munion and Memorial-do not exhaust its challenge to devo. tion. As St. Augustine said in substance, "We worship what we receive." Nor is this the whole of the development. St. Augustine was thinking of the attitude of communicants when receiving. But if, as has been generally believed, the presence is not limited in time to the moment of communion, then the rev

« AnteriorContinuar »