‘LHUDE SING CUCCU’

When you come right down to it nothing is better for an illustration than a good old clock. If you have trouble telling people the meaning of deism, you say that the deists think about the universe as a clock that God has wound up and left ticking. When you are explaining the teleological argument for the existence of God, you say that the clock on the table demands a clock-maker, that such a thing could not have come into existence without the creativity of an intelligent mind.

Franz Winkler, M.D., has a book entitled Man the Bridge Between Two Worlds. You ought to read it. One of the things he is after is our modern idea that if we can analyze something, we thereby understand it. Not so, says Winkler. Without the creative synthesizing activity that is normal to man, it is simply impossible to get at or, even better, understand anything.

Dr. Winkler brings up the clock again. The clock-maker has taken the clock apart and left the parts on the table. A man who has never seen a clock and has no idea of its totality or its purpose (why do modern thinkers run so hard away from purpose?) now sets out to analyze what it is he has. He and his descendants never reach the end of their analytical search. In the leftovers of what was once a clock they finally end up in the mysteries of nuclear structure.

Dr. Winkler then proposes that centuries after the first observation, a scientist is finally ready to make his report. “We are now in a position to state and to prove that it was made of molecules and atoms. Accidental nuclear changes have resulted in a phenomenon which to our naive ancestors appeared purposeful. There are indeed old legends … claiming that it once moved.… Laboratory tests have failed to support these claims. The scientists who have examined it state emphatically that it never really moved in spite of their efforts to rearrange its particles and to remove all superfluous parts.”

Are we still hoping to understand a living man by dissecting his brain?

OPPOSED TO DIVORCE

Congratulations on the highly irenic and perceptive article by Virginia Ramey Mollenkott on “The Bible, the Classics, and Milton” (Jan. 1 issue).…

Protestantism has been hampered by two forceful traditions: The use of the Bible alone innocent of scientific and historical studies making preaching a concatenation of proof-texts and ingenious inventiveness but hardly conducive to an understanding of the nature of the Gospel in all its spiritual and cosmic implications, hence failing to lead to personal commitment of the whole mind and heart in adoration. Second, the complete divorce from the Bible and the total use of secular literature and the liberal arts in their limited humanistic, secular ethics as the road to salvation.…

The Cross must remain the focus and lightning flash revealing the nature and character of God in its disposition toward man’s sinful condition. It is not belittling the Bible and the nature of the Gospel when the vast insights of the arts and literature are brought into play for making clear in contemporary terms and meanings the vastness of the redemption of God in Jesus Christ.…

Calvary Baptist Church

Lowell, Mass.

A VALUED AMEN

Dr. Georgia Harkness has written that her positions are more biblical than the interpretation which this reviewer placed on her books in the January 1 issue.

In particular it is a pleasure to note that Dr. Harkness agrees completely with the final statement in that review. We, therefore, heartily include her valued “amen” to the reviewer’s statement that “Christian assurance comes as one anchors in the promises of God, which are all yea in Christ Jesus.”

Columbia Theological Seminary

Decatur, Ga.

INSURANCE FOR GRAND KLEAGLE

While I often disagree with you, I have usually been able to discern the merit of your position. My shock, therefore, was double when I read your editorial “Justice on Trial” (Jan. 1 issue).

First one gathers that the State of Mississippi stands condemned if the three suspects are not convicted. This certainly does not give them an opportunity for a fair trial in Mississippi or anywhere else, and a fair trial is one of the solemn guarantees of Anglo-Saxon as opposed to Congo justice.…

You imply that it is impertinent to question why these troublemakers were in Mississippi for they had a legal right to be there. Yet, I would not insure the life of the Grand Kleagle of the KKK, if he took up residence on 126th Street, between Lenox and Fifth, in New York City; and I would bet that Mayor Wagner with his usual concern for civil liberty would find some reason to deny him the right of residence on the grounds it would incite to riot. But people laugh at anyone in Mississippi who would try to preserve order by this rather reasonable means.

Murder is murder wherever it occurs, but I would be more inclined to want to bind your bleeding heart if you had had an editorial on the fact that King, “the most notorious liar in the United States,” his Communist pal Ruston, Abernathy, convicted of illegally distilling liquor, James Farmer, and the others, have not once uttered a word of condemnation of the murder and cannibalism by the rebels in the Congo while steadily condemning the Christian Tshombe. Apparently, these so-called Christian leaders of color do not find murder heinous when the victim is white. In the Congo no one is looking even for suspects. Have you joined the claque which constantly finds everything wrong with the United States, or the worriers about our world image? The world respects power and force, and that is the only image that the world appreciates, but this hardly concerns a religious magazine.

Finally we have Adam Clayton Powell convicted, and conviction sustained on every appeal, of violating the Ninth Commandment, the victim being a member of his own race. But he refuses to be punished by the fine of $46,000 and has used every dodge in the book. Don’t you think the State of New York stands condemned for refusing to sustain its own judiciary? Of course, there are those who say this is a fight among Negroes, so why be concerned. Being a Christian publication, I would assume you would not subscribe to this. But you haven’t said anything about it.

In the eyes of the Church, the Bride of Christ, all violations of any of the Ten Commandments are equally sinful be they murder, refusal to take care of aged parents, adultery, or bearing false witness against thy neighbor. A godless state may make distinctions perhaps, but what is that to thee? Follow Christ, who died for all men because somebody had to be convicted. The mob of religious leaders demanded it.

St. Peter’s Church (Episcopal)

Rosedale, N.Y.

POSSIBILITIES HERE?

After seeing that you allowed a book on speaking in tongues to be reviewed by Spiros Zodhiates (Jan. 1 issue), I will not be surprised if future books on democracy are reviewed by Mao Tse-tung or books on Luther by the Pope.

Philadelphia, Pa.

NO DOUBLE ENTRY SYSTEM

Praying for the dead is not contributing towards a double entry system of ecclesiastical bookkeeping (Eutychus, Dec. 4 issue) but an expression of the same Christian concern that prompts praying for others while still in this life.

It is said that during the Episcopal General Convention debate on the matter, an opponent delivered a somewhat flamboyant address by saying: “And when I’m dead, I shall be in the hands of God and won’t need anyone to pray for me.” He was followed by the evangelical James C. Foley, professor at the Philadelphia Divinity School, who said: “Brethren, I am in the hands of God already and I hope you still will pray for me!” The proposal carried, and prayers for the departed were restored to the American Prayer Book in 1928.

Prayers for the departed can be neither proved nor disproved by Scripture.…

Diocese of Albany

Albany, N. Y.

Bishop

WE LIKE THEM OVER HERE TOO

I enjoy J. Douglas’s reports on events on this side of the water as well as his contributions to Current Religious Thought.

May your magazine be more and more a shining and steady light in the confusion of religious thought in these days.… It is always thought-provoking, a bulwark for truth in this present age.

Edinburgh, Scotland

REFORMER, NOT DEFORMER

Quebec may be in transition (News, Dec. 18 issue), but Dr. John Mackay is 100 per cent right about the statue in front of Manrese, a Jesuit retreat house on Chemin Ste-Foy. It’s Martin Luther and no laughing matter in spite of the fact that “it’s regarded as a joke by both Protestants and Catholics” in Quebec.

Unless Jesuit thought is highly inconsistent, the figure at Manrese must be the Reformer and not the Deformer. Here in Rome the Jesuits have two statues that depict the same scene, and there is no doubt as to the identification of the figure being trodden under foot. The books that accompany the figures here in Rome have clearly written upon them the name MARTIN LUTERO.

The first statue is a gigantic work of art that towers approximately twenty-five feet in height. Although guidebooks of Rome in both English and Italian omit any reference to the existence of this masterpiece of anti-Protestantism, it is to be seen in a prominent alcove of the Church of Ignatius Loyola (Chiesa di Sant’lgnazio di Loyola).It depicts Loyola trampling Luther. A serpent entwines the “heretic’s” torso.

The other statue depicts the Virgin Mary flailing Martin Luther and John Calvin with a cat-o’-nine-tails. Again the figures are wrapped about by snakes, lying under the Virgin’s foot and holding their heads in torment.

Underneath the bodies are two books; one is engraved IOHANNES CALVINO, the other MARTIN LUTERO. TO the left of the Virgin is a little angel tearing the pages out of still a third book. The church sacristan tells that this is “the book of the Reformers,” and when I pressed him as to what book that was he replied: “The Bible, of course, what other book did the Reformers use?” This latter statue resides to the right of the altar under which Ignatius Loyola himself is buried in the mother church of the Jesuit order, La Chiesa di Gesu’(The Church of Jesus). Both these churches are in the heart of Rome.

Father Morisette may suggest that we view such statues “from the historical perspective of 300 years,” but it is still clear to any thinking Protestant that Vatican Council II has not yet produced the kind of atmosphere that would cause the church to destroy all such “false” imagery, just as she destroyed thousands of pagan statues and valuable works of art in Rome after the atmosphere had become “Christian” in the fourth and fifth centuries A.D.

If Rome really means business she will put all such statues in the dusty archives of some museum.

Italian Bible Institute

Rome, Italy

Director

JEWISH-CHRISTIAN RELATIONS

I was extremely pleased to read the article “The Jews and the Crucifixion” by George H. Stevens (Dec. 18 issue), and I felt that this may prove to be the most significant essay for the betterment of Jewish-Christian relations this year.

Minister in Charge

Los Angeles District Headquarters

American Board of Missions to the Jews

Hollywood, Calif.

LUTHER AND JAMES

Either Marianne H. Micks or Professor Mikolaski, following Micks, mistakes a fact in the professor’s book review (Dec. 4 issue).

Luther’s “strawy epistle” remark occurred in his preface to his 1522 edition of his German New Testament. My quotes are from Muhlenberg Press’s 1932 six-volume English version of selected writings of Luther, a translation made by several American Lutheran scholars. “In a word, St. John’s Gospel … St. Paul’s Epistles, especially Romans, Galatians … are the books that show you Christ.… Therefore St. James’ Epistle is really an epistle of straw, compared to them; for it has nothing of the nature of the Gospel about it”.…

Some modern Lutherans reconcile St. James with St. Paul’s doctrine of justification by faith alone, by putting a different interpretation on James than did Luther. New Castle, Ind.

The Second Vatican Council and the New Catholicism, by G. C. Berkouwer (Eerdmans, 1965, 520 pp„ $5.95), is reviewed by Heiko A. Oberman, professor of the history of dogma, Harvard Divinity School, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

A tidal wave of Vatican Council bulletins has flooded the market with “council books.” Some offer day-to-day developments; others lend color to the hard lines of theological debate by presenting some of the many anecdotes that circulated in the corridors of St. Peter’s Basilica. The interconfessional interest in the council was heightened by the presence of a number of Protestant observers, some of whom took up their pens to record their reactions. A book by the former dean of Harvard Divinity School, professor emeritus Douglas Horton (United Church of Christ), and one by Robert McAfee Brown (Presbyterian), Stanford professor of religion, show how these Protestants were able to enter into the suspense of curial maneuverings and unexpected developments with a sharp eye for the relevance of new developments within the Roman Catholic Church for the ecumenical situation in the United States.

The book before us is not a “council book” in the way the others are, for its scope is more extensive. It introduces the reader to the background of the so-called new Catholicism: its breakaway from traditional tenets in Roman Catholic thought, its development until the beginning of the sixties, its contribution to conciliar thought, and its achievements on the council floor.

The author, Gerrit C. Berkouwer, professor of systematic theology at the Free University of Amsterdam, is well known in this country for such books as his multi-volume Dogmatic Studies, Conflict with Rome, and The Triumph of Grace in the Theology of Karl Barth. Because of his pioneer work in the Rome-Reformation discussion, Berkouwer was invited to attend the second Vatican Council as the guest of the Secretariat for the Promotion of Christian Unity. There he saw how the modern Roman Catholic theology he has been studying during the last three decades was able to function within the conciliar context.

Before we turn to content, it is important to suggest the spirit of the book, which makes reading it a breath-taking experience. First, Berkouwer carries through a theme I have seen developed nowhere else in such detail; namely, the solidarity forced upon Protestants and Roman Catholics alike in their mutual confrontation of a world that has come of age. This is not only a confrontation with the world outside the Church, impatient with the Church’s claims after nineteen centuries of Christianity; it is also an encounter with the world within the Church, where history and philology prove to be equally deep-cutting challenges for the traditional Protestant and Roman Catholic understanding of the authority of the Holy Scriptures. Berkouwer shows how such representatives of modern Roman Catholic theology as Congar, De Lubac, Rahner, Schillebeeckx, and Küng are dealing with problems that are of daily concern for their Protestant colleagues.

Secondly, Berkouwer is not concerned only with the relevance of the new Roman Catholic theology; he is equally concerned with its claims to be the old theology renewing itself by translating the original historical intent into present-day language. He who feels that the ecumenical cause can be served only by severing our ties with the past and forgetting the history of Christian thought, because he regards this history merely as a gathering place for dated controversies, had better leave this book alone unless he is willing to be converted. Theological issues in the Old and New Testament, in the Patristic Era, in the Middle Ages and the Reformation period, are presented, and have to be presented, because in this new theology the whole history of Christian thought comes alive. The bold reinterpretation of Chalcedon, Trent, and Vatican I is of great importance for Protestants, because it implies a transformation of traditional Roman Catholic positions. We find here an effort to recapture the true humanity of Christ, a new insistence on Holy Scripture as the receptacle of all Catholic truths, and a call for a rounding-off of the infallible teaching authority of the pope, as presented at the first Vatican Council, by its complement in the equally infallible teaching authority of the College of Bishops.

In the first chapter Berkouwer analyzes the new spirit sparked by Pope John XXIII and finds a radically changed spirituality transcending that of the past and all that could have been expected some five years ago. The author shows more sympathy for the conservative wing than we usually encounter in the daily press and in other council books, because he can understand the necessity of preserving (custodire) the continuity with the past. At the same time he feels that Hans Küng is right in denying that the new theology is a product of liberal nineteenth-century modernism, in 1907 condemned as “agnostic.” He regards integralism (curialistic conservatism) as reactionary, too scared to open the doors of the church to the stormy winds of our day.

In a second chapter this changed climate in the Roman Catholic Church is further articulated, and the program of renewal is shown to be intimately related to a rapprochement with key Reformation positions. In the next chapter the problem of mutability and immutability of dogma, that is, of the truth entrusted to the church, is discussed. Here again Berkouwer’s discussion is fair and profound, because he is aware that this issue crosses confessional boundaries. The change in formulation of the truth is not a clever adjustment to modernity in order not to lose grip on the faithful. Although these pragmatic ecumenists are in evidence, this is but a distortion of the true sense in which the preserving of the truth requires a constant retranslation of the biblical Gospel as it has been understood in the past.

The author devotes a special chapter to the relation of Scripture and tradition implied in the foregoing, noting that the battle cry of the Reformation, “Scripture alone,” has found staunch supporters within the camp of modern Roman Catholic theologians. The questions remain how this can be reconciled with the decision of the Council of Trent and how the assumed identity of Scripture and tradition behind this Roman Catholic assertion, “Scripture alone,” can be historically validated.

In the chapter on “Exegesis and Teaching Authority,” however, we are confronted with the burgeoning ecumenical potential of modern Roman Catholic biblical studies, now freed from nineteenth-century shackles by Pope Pius XII’s encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu. The question is discussed whether this implies an openness for the “vision of Teilhard de Chardin,” as in the interpretation of the first chapters of Genesis, or whether this is to be regarded as a concession to modernity, illegitimate since Humani Generis (1950).

The chapters on “Primacy and Episcopacy” and “The Mystery of the Church” discuss the significance of the collegiality of the bishops and of the new spirituality, which is unsatisfied with the traditional answers to questions about the exclusive claims of the Roman Catholic doctrine of the church—which, after all, every Christian acknowledges to be “one Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic.” In his discussion of the problems of Mariology, and again in the concluding epilogue, the author shows how he has been studying Roman Catholicism from within—without spiritual reservations—completely giving himself to his task of writing a phenomenology of modern Roman Catholicism.

The question may arise whether Berkouwer has sufficiently articulated the witness of the Reformation and the stance over against the Roman Catholic tradition that remains true to itself amidst adaptations. I believe that the answer should be a firm “No!” The title of the book is not The Reformation and Modern Roman Catholic Theology but The Second Vatican Council and the New Catholicism. He has not been exploring the complicated network of rooms in the building called Roman Catholicism in order to look for an opportunity to place Protestant time bombs at the more strategic places. When charting the new Roman Catholic developments and their relation to the traditional structures, Berkouwer raises profound questions, but these seem to me to be as relevant and at times as cutting for the Protestant as for the Roman Catholic.

The Roman Catholic reader has here a readable survey of twentieth-century theological developments nowhere else available. The Protestant will be helped by this book to test the spirits of his time and, above all, to have a more profound understanding of the present-day need for reformation and the significance of the Reformation in our day.

Points Beyond Itself

The Old Testament, by Robert Davidson (Lippincott, 1964, 236 pp., $2.95), is reviewed by Robert O. Kevin, professor of Old Testament, Protestant Episcopal Theological Seminary, Alexandria, Virginia.

For one who wants a warmly written, condensed, objective account of religious concepts and practices in the Old Testament period of Israel’s life this book is recommended. The work represents contemporary scholarship. It provides a facet of faith in a series of books that are to have the overall title “Knowing Christianity.”

The volume can be informative and helpful. It can also be a disappointment to one who buys it because of a promise on the cover that it is “a deeply satisfying interpretation of Old Testament theology valued in its own right and not merely as a preparation for the New Testament.”

The author did not write the advertisement. He simply says, somewhere near the end of his work, that the Old Testament ought to be valued in its own right and not only as a preparation for the New.

His purpose, judging by the content, is to show what the literature of the Old Testament is in all its varied character; how the canon of the Scripture grew; and how the Hebrews believed that God worked through human history, that he revealed his purpose for them in a covenant, and that the people of the Holy Community were to respond in obedience to his will.

The writer describes how the prophets interpreted the disasters that befell Israel as punishment for their disobedience; how God was approached in worship, with the sacrifices that were offered, the festivals that were celebrated, and the prayers that were said. All this is set forth with clarity, ability, and understanding.

Davidson tells, moreover, how men were sometimes troubled in their religious faith and what they did about it, what they thought of themselves in the light of God’s relation to them, and how they later viewed the future through apocalyptic glasses.

In an epilogue it is said that “the Old Testament points beyond itself,” that within Judaism a Jewish sect arose that saw the Old Testament promises fulfilled in their Leader. So there was, and so they did.

It is no doubt possible to discover “a satisfying interpretation of the Old Testament in its own right.” Some modern forms of Judaism have done this for their adherents. Possibly a Christian could do it too. But the author of this book has not realized this aim, helpful as the work can be in other ways.

One of these would be as a gift to a layman who wants to study for the ministry, or perhaps to teachers of New Testament classes. Many, by reading it, will be able to discover what others have learned about the Old Testament and its riches.

ROBERT O. KEVIN

A New Project

The Anchor Bible, Volume I; Genesis, introduction, translation, and notes by E. A. Speiser (Doubleday, 1964, 379 pp., $6), is reviewed by Harry A. Hofjner, Jr., assistant professor of Anatolian studies, Brandeis University, Waltham, Massachusetts.

The Anchor Bible is an ambitious and worthy new project conceived by Doubleday and blessed with the able editorial supervision of William F. Albright and David N. Freedman. The plan is to provide an English translation of the entire Bible faithfully conveying the meaning of the Hebrew and Greek texts and adapted to the idiom of current American English. The translation will be supplied with explanatory notes, and following each chapter or pericope of the biblical text there will be a brief commentary elucidating the passage from historical and critical points of view. The editors should be congratulated on their choice of Professor Ephraim A. Speiser of the University of Pennsylvania as the contributor of the commentary on Genesis. This distinguished scholar has devoted many years to the study of Assyriology and its relations to Old Testament interpretation.

The Anchor Bible project as outlined on the frontispiece is admirable in all points save one. Any attempt to write a book that will satisfy the needs of both scholar and layman is doomed to frustration at the outset. One has the impression that in Dr. Speiser’s Genesis it is the general reader who has been short-changed. Numerous articles in several languages are cited from a score of technical journals. Yet few and far between are the references to high-quality works in English designed for the general reading public, such as J. B. Pritchard’s Ancient Near Eastern Texts (to which Speiser was a principal contributor), the two volumes of the Biblical Archaeologist Reader (edited by Wright, Freedman, and Campbell, and published by Doubleday!), or any of the popular works by William F. Albright or Cyrus H. Gordon.

Some readers may find it disappointing that Speiser devotes so much space to source criticism. He holds to a modified version of the documentary hypothesis, in which leading roles are assigned not only to J, E, D, and P, but also to their supposed predecessor “T” (for “tradition”). On the issue of canonicity from the broader perspective of cuneiform literature one should not overlook W. W. Hallo, “New Viewpoints on Cuneiform Literature” (Israel Exploration Journal 12 [‘62], pp. 13 ff.), with the other studies cited there. Speiser’s English translation of Genesis is generally quite good, not only in English style (e.g., 4:7 and 9:27) but also in exegetical insights (e.g., 1:1–3 and 3:1–2). Exceptions are few. In 4:1 and elsewhere in the Old Testament the Hebrew vada’, “to know,” refers to the sexual act. Although admittedly “the man knew his wife” involves some ambiguity, most alert readers of the English Bible are aware of what is involved. How is the matter improved by the equally ambiguous (and somewhat awkward) “the man had experience of his wife”?

Though the annotations and commentary contain many valuable insights, individual scholars will not agree with the author on a number of points. The myths of the Kumarbi cycle unquestionably have left their imprint on later Greek myths of the Uranid cycle. But it is improbable that they underlie the nephilim of Genesis G. Even if the bene elohim are gods (in itself quite an assumption!), their offspring are begotten through mortal women. This is patently not the case with the Titans or Ullikummi. In the author’s commentary on Genesis 23 (pp. 168–73) he fails to mention even once the crucial article by M. R. Lehmann in Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 129 (‘53), pp. 15–18. Such an omission is hardly justifiable, even though Speiser apparently totally disagrees with Lehmann’s conclusions, denies that these “sons of Heth” could have been Hurro-Hittites, insists that the point at issue was the price of the land rather than its extent, and refuses to deal with Lehmann’s observations regarding paragraphs 46 and 47 of the Hittite laws.

As one reviews a work of this nature, he is confirmed in the opinion that no single scholar can adequately deal with the many facets of the interpretation of Genesis. To do so he should be an expert archaeologist, historian, linguist, textual and literary critic, and theologian combined. In view of the enormously exacting demands of the task, Professor Speiser has done admirably well and clearly deserves our applause and our thanks.

HARRY A. HOFFNER, JR.

Conservative Influence

The Eldership in Irish Presbyterianism, by John M. Barkley (Sabbath School Society [Belfast, Ireland], 1964, 139 pp., 15s.), is reviewed by S. W. Murray, editor, Alliance News, Belfast, Ireland.

In this volume the development of the office of eldership in the various branches of Presbyterianism in Ireland is examined in detail, with special reference to the Irish Presbyterian Church. Here there will be seen characteristic differences from the Church of Scotland, including the ordination of the elder by presbytery and not by the local minister. The influence of the elder has usually been conservative in doctrinal matters, especially in major theological controversies, of which the Irish church has had its share. This was so, for instance, in the controversies at the end of the nineteenth century on the introduction of hymns and the use of musical instruments in leading public worship.

In the days long before the welfare state in these islands, the ruling elder was often responsible for the poor and needy in the local congregation, and sometimes outside it. This volume includes extracts from Kirk Session minute books which tell, for example, of aid given “to a poor widow” and “to an honest distressed man which came out of Scotland.” The book is well documented and contains a good bibliography.

S. W. MURRAY

How Big Is The Difference?

Roman and Evangelical: Gospel and Ministry—An Ecumenical Issue, by Per Erik Persson (Fortress, 1964, 96 pp., $2), is reviewed by James Daane, assistant editor,CHRISTIANITY TODAY.

This book uncovers the theological motifs that divide Romanism and Protestantism and give each its distinctive shape and content. With the clarity of a Pittsburgh plate-glass window the book shows that Protestant and Roman theologies give very different answers to the question: How and where is Christ present to us? The answer given by Rome accounts for Rome’s view of the Bible, of tradition, of what occurs in the Mass and why it can be celebrated without a congregation, of the pope and his infallibility, of the necessity of apostolic succession, of the Church, of the Incarnation, and of why a valid ministry is more important than purity of doctrine. Rome’s answer also shows that Mariology is a natural development, not a strange, whimsical addition. Persson’s demonstration that all these doctrines are shaped by Rome’s answer to the question of how and where Christ is present to us for our salvation is highly rewarding.

Rome contends that Christ is present to save in the official ministry of the church; because this ministry is concentrated in the pope, the presence of Christ is also concentrated in the pope. The pope “represents” Christ not merely in the ordinary meaning of that term but in the unique sense that Christ, who was once present on earth, is now again present in the pope. The pope therefore—and the whole teaching ministry of the church in degrees—in his words and functions reflects not only the humanity but also the deity of Christ. He can therefore be infallible, and he can therefore also be the necessary mediator (not the Mediator) of salvation; for as the one in whom Christ is present again, he can, as did Christ, represent both God to the people and the people to God. Thus the teaching ministry of the church can, for example, forgive sins, and make present again, in the Mass, the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ.

Against this view, Persson, a Lutheran, shows that in Protestantism Christ is present in the preaching of the Gospel, and that Protestants therefore hold fundamentally different views on all the matters mentioned above.

Persson contends, further, that this basic difference reflects that basic issue of the Reformation, salvation by grace alone, and that Rome’s doctrine of salvation by grace alone (she has one too) is so constructed that it requires free human cooperation, which, while said to be itself the result of divine grace, nonetheless makes human works of cooperation both necessary and meritorious. And he further shows that Rome’s sola gratia, combined with human cooperation, is rooted in Rome’s Christology, in which great stress is laid on what Christ accomplishedas a man.

This is an extremely valuable book. Any minister or theological student can understand it. He will see clearly the motif that shapes Roman Catholic theology, and he is likely to understand his own Protestant tradition, his own churches and ministry, far better than ever before. An understanding of the contents of this little book will make him see that there is a massive, articulated, unified Roman Catholic theology in which those things that sometimes seem incredible or even nonsensical are, on the contrary, integral to the whole. It will also make the Protestant realize that some of his short-order slogans about what the Roman Catholic Church believes are only about half true.

The title of this excellent little book is rather misleading. The “and” in the title faithfully reproduces the “och” of the original Swedish title, Romerskt och Evangeliskt. Yet the thesis of l’ersson, professor of systematic theology at Lund, Sweden, is not Roman and evangelical. He asserts baldly in the final paragraph of his argument that what is necessary in the Roman view of salvation is, in the Lutheran (Protestant) view, impossible. And his whole book shows clearly that the gap between the necessary and the impossible is the distance that must be covered before there can be any Protestant-Catholic merger.

JAMES DAANE

Book Briefs

The Gospel of John: An Evangelical Commentary, by George A. Turner and Julius R. Mantey (Eerdmans, 1064. 420 pp., $8.95). The third in a projected twenty-volume commentary on the entire Bible. Evangelical, up-to-date scholarship.

Counseling with College Students, by Charles F. Kemp (Prentice-Hall, 1964, 144 pp., $2.95). A rather lightweight treatment.

The Totem Pole Indians, by Joseph H. Wherry (Funk & Wagnalls, 1964, 152 pp., $6.50). With a chapter on religion.

Your Children’s Faith: A Guide for Parents, by Florence M. Taylor (Doubleday, 1964, 174 pp., $3.95). Advice and counsel cut on a rather liberal bias.

The Gospels: Portraits of Christ, by Wayne G. Rollins (Westminster, 1963, 128 pp., $3). The author sees four portraits of Christ in the New Testament: Mark presents a religious-existential approach, Matthew an ethical-apocalyptic, and so on. If you do not like what you see in one Gospel, try another.

Handbook of the Bible, by Donald E. Demaray (Cowman, 1964, 400 pp., $8.95). A wealth of material to help the serious reader understand the Bible.

Helping Human Beings: The Ethics of Interpersonal Relations, by Earl Dahlstrom (Public Affairs Press, 1964, 350 pp., $6). A large study with a wide sweep.

Counseling the Unwed Mother, by Helen E. Terkelsen (Prentice-Hall, 1964, 144 pp., $2.95). A valuable book for the pastor.

Pastoral Administration, by Arthur Merrihew Adams (Westminster, 1964, 174 pp., $4.50). Extensive discussions and information on “running a church.”

Preparing Your Children for Marriage, by W. Clark Ellzey (Association, 1964, 159 pp., $3.95). A book from Which parents could learn much, though there is little explicit Christian orientation.

Counseling the Serviceman and His Family, by Thomas A. Harris (Prentice-Hall, 1964, 144 pp., $2.95). A valuable book for the pastor’s study.

The Burden of Guilt: A Short History of Germany, 1914–1945, by Hannah Vogt (Oxford, 1964, 318 pp., $6). A German writes for Germans about the history of Hitler’s Germany, assessing the burden of guilt in a writing for our times.

Diligently Compared: The Revised Standard Version and the King James Version of the Old Testament, by Millar Burrows (Nelson, 1964, 278 pp., $6.50). “Why isn’t the King James good enough?” This book answers this question for the Old Testament. The author is a member of the Standard Bible Committee of the NCC.

Paperbacks

We Know in Part, by D. T. Niles (Westminster, 1964, 158 pp„ $1.95). D. T. Niles’s quite substantial response to J. A. T. Robinson’s Honest to God.

The Holy Spirit in Christian Education, by Rachel Henderlite (Westminster, 1964. 128 pp., $1.95). The author struggles with the relation of revelation, Church, Bible, and Holy Spirit in view of the task of Christian education. She writes lucidly and competently, and with a fear that a literally infallible Bible would be a dangerous thing.

Talking about Jesus with a Jewish Neighbor, by Albert Huisjen (Baker, 1964, 54 pp., $1). This is no “push-the-door-bell-and-smile” type of advice, but a thoroughly biblical discussion that provides theological footing.

The Church Faces Isms, edited by Arnold B. Rhodes (Abingdon, 1964, 304 pp., $2.25). Good essays on fundamentalism, Adventism, dispensationalism, perfectionism, Judaism, Roman Catholicism, denominationalism, ecumenism, totalitarianism, racism, secularism, naturalism, scientism, and modernism. For laymen or clergy. First printed in 1958.

The Idea of Revelation in Recent Thought, by John Baillie (Columbia University, 1964, 152 pp., $1.45). First printed in 1956.

Church and Ministry in Transition, by Richard Caemmerer and Erwin L. Luekev (Concordia, 1964, 80 pp., $1). A discussion in the context of Scripture and history.

On Trial: Sermons for Lent and Easter, by Arnold G. Kuntz (Concordia, 1965, 102 pp., $1.50). Six sermonettes that probe the conscience and dig into the heart with remarkable effectiveness. They call three witnesses for the prosecution and three for the defense.

Theology of Culture, by Paul Tillich (Oxford, 1964, 213 pp., $1.45). Fifteen essays on religion and culture. First published in 1959.

Psychology of Pastoral Care, by Paul E. Johnson (Abingdon, 1964, 362 pp., $1.95). A superlative, comprehensive work covering the wide sweep of pastoral concerns. The book stands in almost lonely excellence. First published in 1953.

The Sociology of Religion, by Max Weber (Beacon Press, 1964, 304 pp., $2.75). A substantial and self-contained part of Weber’s famous magnum opus, Economics and Society.First English version.

The Call of the Minaret, by Kenneth Cragg (Oxford, 1964, 376 pp., $1.95). An excellent commentary on Muslim belief and action. First published in 1956, it throws considerable light on a sector of the world that presses for increasing attention.

Christian Education for Socially Handicapped Children and Youth: A Manual for Chaplains and Teachers of Persons Under Custody, by Eleanor Ebersole (United Church Press, 1964, 96 pp., $1.25). A noble subject dealt a bad blow by not only bad but very confused theology.

The Hunger, The Thirst, by Malcolm Boyd (Morehouse-Barlow, 1964, 128 pp., $1.50). Malcolm Boyd, “the espresso priest,’ gives pungent answers to the questions of the young generation. Good reading.

This issue features a major assessment of the ecumenical movement. In addition, the editors present (page 29) some principles of Christian unity.

“A Short Story of Antichrist” brings to our readers the prophetic voice of Vladimir Solovyov, distinguished Russian writer and philosopher.

In the propagation of the Gospel, evangelicalism has no equal. Its influence has reached to the uttermost parts of the earth. And within the Church, where at times it has been misunderstood and even persecuted, its impact has been momentous. W. E. H. Lecky said that evangelicals “gradually changed the whole spirit of the English Church. They infused into it a new fire and passion of devotion, kindled a spirit of fervent philanthropy, raised the standard of clerical duty, and completely altered the whole tone and tendency of the preaching of its ministers” (History of England in the Eighteenth Century, Vol. II, p. 627).

This high praise is based on facts. In the social life of the country the influence of evangelicalism has been just as great. It was chiefly responsible for producing the self-control, the sobriety, the ethical outlook that made possible the unparalleled series of social reforms in the nineteenth century. Evangelicalism has frequently been accused of being a modern, private, arbitrary, and unscriptural system, but such accusations are far from the truth. Evangelicalism rightly claims, now just as it has in the past, to be the Christianity of Christ and of his apostles. The truths for which it stands, the moral principles which it upholds, and the vision which is possesses—these all are rooted deep in scriptural authority.

Few will deny that one of the weaknesses of evangelicalism lies in its divisions, though it is possible to place too much emphasis upon these inasmuch as there has always been an underlying unity of primary and essential doctrines. These divisions have been used as a weapon against evangelicalism by its enemies. Over a hundred years ago John Cardinal Newman accused evangelicalism of “lacking union, permanency and consistency.” He asserted that “it spells religious individualism and atomism, and cannot really state its views upon any religious doctrine.” He maintained that “the history of Protestantism since the Reformation is clear proof that the tendency to break up into sects is characteristic of its system” (British Circles, April, 1839).

It is not my purpose to point out the difference between ecumenism and evangelicalism, though there is a difference. But it is necessary for our minds to be clear on what individualism and external authority really mean, for these are issues to be faced in ecumenity. It is not necessary to deny that individualism is one of the characteristics of evangelicalism. Indeed, one thanks God for it. Paul, who did not deny the unity of the Church, could say of Christ, “He loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20). For Paul, it was the individual Christian, as well as the Church, who was the object of God’s love. This is a divine truth that must be maintained in this world of mass movements swayed by mass psychological methods.

The same must be said of the right of private judgment. When the Reformers were forced to choose between this and the control of external authority over the conscience, they rightly chose the former on the grounds that it had scriptural authority. Eventually, in the Roman church, Newman was compelled to accept the infallibility of the pope, which is infinitely worse than the individualism of evangelicals. Totalitarianism, whether political or ecclesiastical, is contrary to the Gospel of Jesus Christ and is a far greater danger than individualism could ever be. Institutional and corporate union under the final authority of one can spread error and evil much more quickly and widely than any form of individualism. Human infallibility always has been and always will be a far greater menace. There have been times when evangelicals have shown the practical side of the corporate life of the Church far better than many who sought to uphold this tenet. M. W. Patterson rightly said: “The religion of the evangelicals was theoretically individualistic and little stress was laid on the corporate life of the Church, but their practical works of piety and their love shown for the brethren would rightly put to shame many … who in modern times talk of the Church’s corporate life” (A History of the Church of England, p. 396).

Yet there is “the tendency to break up into sects,” and the time has come for evangelicals to put their house in order by a real endeavor to heal their divisions. A cliché of the ecumenical movement is that one of the great hindrances to the spread of the Christian message is division in the Christian ranks. Evangelicals should take this to heart in the present ecumenical atmosphere, while at the same time examining the cliche in the light of those churches which to an extent have experienced corporate union. But even if such an examination proves the effectiveness of a united church to be a figment of the imagination, the words of our Lord are plain enough: “That they all may be one … that the world may believe that thou hast sent me” (John 17:21).

Some of our divisions have been caused by non-essentials. On matters of secondary importance a large liberty must be recognized, but these matters ought no longer to be allowed to keep apart those who are in full agreement on essentials.

Was Newman right in accusing evangelicalism of not being able to state its views on any religious doctrine? Unfortunately, there have been times when individual evangelicals have so much stressed certain nonessentials that the impression of disunity and lack of precision has been given. Yet there is an underlying unity of doctrine that evangelicals have always believed.

For ‘Counsel And Comfort’

The ecumenical movement is not a product of postwar Christianity, though the events of that time have quickened the desire for reunion. Almost one hundred years ago, Archbishop Longley called the first Lambeth Conference. A good deal of anxiety arose in the minds of many people, and to calm these doubts Dr. Longley put forward this statement: “It should be distinctly understood that, at this meeting, no declaration of faith shall be made, and no decision come to, which will affect generally the interests of the Church, but that we shall meet generally for brotherly counsel and comfort” (The Five Lambeth Conferences, pp. 4, 5). These principles were soon widened, and in 1878 the members of the second Lambeth Conference began to look beyond their own borders to discuss the Anglican position in the light of other churches. They were only putting into practice what was the desire of many Christians, that a closer union with the various churches should take place. Ten years later, at the third Lambeth Conference, reunion with the free churches was boldly discussed. This little rivulet of thought on reunion has developed into a mighty tide sweeping through the whole Church on earth.

World politics in the shape of totalitarianism, materialism, and nationalism has been the great stimulus of the ecumenical movement in recent years. In some parts of the world the Church is fighting for its very existence. Where totalitarianism has gained control, the churches within its borders have been adversely affected. The Roman Catholic Church in Europe has consequently suffered tremendously. In some countries, governments not altogether sympathetic toward those holding the Christian faith have compelled Christians not only to draw closer together but also to seek the fellowship and support of Christians outside.

Synthesis: The Great Theme

In this atmosphere created by world politics, it is not surprising to find that theological distinctions have become blurred. The emphasis is no longer upon differences but rather upon points of agreement. Theological synthesis has become the great theme, the solution of many of our doctrinal differences. “No church,” we are told, “has all the truth, but only a fragment. Only by joining together the various fragments can one conceive the original pattern.” This seems plausible enough, but it is far too easy a solution. For one thing, the differences that separate the various churches are not always unimportant. The controversy between justification by faith alone and justification by faith plus works cuts very deep. So also does the controversy between the sacrifice of the Mass and the sacrament of Holy Communion. A true unity is not to be reached by refusing to face essential differences.

How does evangelicalism fit into this atmosphere? One would have thought the answer obvious, but recent actions, statements, and publications give the impression that the long projecting shadow of ecumenicity has sometimes darkened evangelical vision and spiritual acumen. Some leaders have become so absorbed in the ecumenical movement that they are no longer able to see clearly the issues at stake or judge correctly the doctrinal hazards. They have become intoxicated with the great idea of one visible and united church and fail to realize that any such idea must be limited by truth and balanced by the conditions laid down in Holy Scripture.

How far can evangelicals travel along this pathway toward corporate union? The answer is, As far as the New Testament allows. Convenient policy and human sentiment must never override scriptural truth and divine principle. The Reformers intensely desired unity but only a unity based on Holy Scripture. Any unity not based upon truth can never be a unity of the Spirit of God. Indeed, one can go further and say that there is already in existence a unity of the Spirit based upon divine truth, and in this Christ’s prayer finds its answer. Whether this can be translated into a visible, corporate unity is a question that must be answered by the Church of Christ under the leadership of the Holy Spirit and under the control of Holy Scripture. One thing is certain, however. Corporate unity is not a necessity, and one may well doubt whether it has ever existed. “There never was an epoch,” said Bishop Westcott, “since the Church spread beyond Jerusalem when the ‘one body of Christ’ was one in visible uniformity, or even one in perfect sympathy.”

T. Leo Brannon is pastor of the First Methodist Church of Samson, Alabama. He received the B.S. degree from Troy State College and the B.D. from Emory University.

One of the most potent drives within Protestant Christianity in our day is the move toward union. Already there is an imposing list of major realignments—the United Church of Canada, the United Church of Christ, the United Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., the Methodist Church, the American Lutheran Church, the Lutheran Church in America. How many adults in North America can claim that the church in which they were baptized or confirmed has maintained its organizational identity? And the end is not yet. Almost every major Protestant group has an official committee to discuss further mergers.

All this effort may be explained on the ground that Protestants have come into a cultural and historical situation in which we must move together or be overwhelmed separately. Our division is weakness, and now is a time when Protestantism needs to be strong. We need to unite because in broad areas of the world—not least in the United States—we find ourselves confronted by a vigorous Romanism. In many countries a resurgence of ancient religions is posing a challenge not to be ignored. There is also the worldwide threat to Christian faith—and, of course, to all religion—by Communism. And what shall be said of the threat from native materialism, which creates many problems even though it is not supported by doctrine or organization?

The move for merger may be justified on the basis of scriptural witness. To Paul’s question, “Is Christ divided?” (1 Cor. 1:13a), there is no adequate answer save this one: “There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all” (Eph. 4:4–6). Certainly to offer a divided witness to the world is to deny the revelation we have in Jesus Christ. It is hardly exaggeration to ask what Christ we want the world to accept: a Presbyterian Christ? a Baptist Christ? Even as he is one, so are we to be one. The compartmentalization of the Christian company is no answer to our Lord’s prayer recorded in John 17. Our division is untrue to the Christian Gospel. And it is more than that—it is sin.

The cry for union may be a recognition of the obvious. There may have been a time when one group did not regard the others as wholly or even partially Christian. But since World War II we have been a people on the move. As families move from one community to another, their religious affiliation may change. They may go from a Lutheran church to a Presbyterian church, then to a community church and perhaps on to an Evangelical United Brethren church. Thus there is a diminishing of their denominational loyalties. They would say that they think one church is pretty much the same as another. To continue what they might regard as an adjectival Christianity would seem to them to be little less than ridiculous. These people on the move now make up a substantial part of American churches.

A Matter Of Emphasis

Union may also be sought on the basis of a mid-twentieth-century reading of history. The Reformation required such strong personalities as Luther and Calvin to stand up to the testing. Debates over theology and polity that were of great importance to an earlier generation are for us a matter of history. We do not see the point in getting so excited over some questions that were very largely a matter of emphasis. “After all, we’re all trying to get to the same place, and we are simply taking routes that happen to have different names on them.” Why not then resign to history the disputes of history? Our perspective should enable us to rise above fringe issues.

So the arguments run.

Both inside and outside the Church there is strong feeling that church union is the great religious advance in our day. The news media give large play to merger proposals. Denominational headquarters do not shrink from the publicity of photograph, television panel, and quotation. There are great pressures behind this drive. At one time a man was not regarded as Christian if he did not condemn dancing, card-playing, and alcohol. Now many are unwilling to call a man Christian if he is not a member of the pack crying for union. This persuasion of the need for Protestant unity is so strong that being lukewarm on this matter is thought to be like having an antipathy for home and mother. Declamations for unity always include the reservation that there is no desire to erect a monolithic structure. But beyond that, the movement rushes on apace.

The drumbeat for union has been heard so much that this theme has become a kind of first and great commandment. One may publicly express uncertainty about the authority of the Scriptures, the Virgin Birth of Jesus, and the bodily Resurrection, and yet remain in full communion in his denomination. But to raise questions about union is to ask for a sentence of exile from one’s fellowship. It is to give evidence that one is not aware of the fresh wind blowing through our theological corridors. It is to be out of step with the great forward march of Christendom. To be lukewarm here is to be a Samuel who has not heard the voice, a Saul who has not seen the light, a Moses who has not turned aside.

The Rise Of Separatism

Curiously, the momentum for union has been accompanied by a growth of separatism within the individual denominations. There were at one time important areas of interdenominational cooperation. Week after week Sunday schools were conducted on the common basis of the International Sunday School Lesson outlines. But the last quarter of a century has seen the formulation of denominational curricula, accompanied by pressures for their use in local churches. A parish minister hears the cries, “Lo, here!” and “Lo, there!” He must parrot enthusiastically the line of mergerism, even to the point of surrendering on matters of doctrine and practice that he may regard as essential to the teaching and living of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He should not raise any questions about doctrine or polity that might embarrass the negotiating committees. But at the same time he is called upon to use only his own denominational materials. The union label in this case is the non-union label, i.e., the denominational label. He must champion merger and use only his own denominational publications in doing so.

A generation ago there was an across-the-lines youth movement. Every local parish gathered its young people under the banner of the Christian Endeavor Society. While we have been challenging Protestants in the call for union, we have been renaming our youth groups to give each its own denominational identification (designated by call letters after the current Washington example). From what was once an interdenominational youth movement we have moved to an emphasis upon denominationalism. The annual promotion of what we call “United Christian Youth” is an ersatz substitution in view of its specific identification of youth groups according to name, materials, and summer conferences.

How To ‘Get Credit’

In the past, interdenominational support was given to such movements as the Lord’s Day Alliance, the Temperance League, and the American Bible Society. But who is to deny that the emphasis now is given to the resolutions on church and society adopted in the assemblies of various Protestant groups? What a congregation does is hemmed about by the all-important consideration of “getting credit.” To “get credit” local congregations must make gifts to agencies and institutions that are officially approved by the denomination. These agencies are underscored by publications that are closely identified with the official programming of each communion and that are in effect “house organs,” with all the editorial freedom this implies.

In our day, denominational patterns are determined largely by those of liberal theological bent. And there has been a tightening of internal lines to demand an adherence to these patterns. Use the materials. Attend the conferences and training sessions. Raise the funds. Observe the Sundays. Get the subscriptions. Fill out the reports. Maintain a good attendance record at denominational meetings. Vote affirmatively on resolutions from executive councils. Ask no questions.

With these two pressures, then—for ecumenism and for separatism—parish ministers and local congregations are working in a confusing situation. This article is not a plea for succor, nor a wail of self-pity. It is written to inquire whether in this apparent conflict these two forces might work themselves out. Most of us can live with this bi-polarity as long as we retain a sense of humor and remember that the cheek is a convenient place for the tongue. But there would be some reason for concern if these two thrusts should work themselves into some kind of combination. And where might these two lines intersect? Where can the call for union and the demand for denominational loyalty find common ground?

A link might be found in a merged Protestantism that required point-by-point obedience of its people. The demand for adherence to denominational directives, now made with ever more shrill insistence, would be translated into a demand for more exacting performance of new united headquarters directives. With our predilection for numbers, how much more significance would be attached to the word from the “leaders” if they represented a church of twenty million instead of a church of two million. Because officials would “speak for” larger numbers, a larger importance—and, if you please, a greater divine authority—would be attached to what they set forth.

Thus the two current trends might quite naturally be combined into a whole, a merged church with consequently tighter lines of authority. Perhaps we ought to take a look at what would be in the offing for this greater church which would be called upon to meet the weightier challenges of coming days.

The growth of denominational emphasis has meant a growing increase of institutionalism within individual communions. The tightening of lines clearly requires line-riders. This has meant the proliferation of offices on the national, regional, and local level—offices requiring executives, executive assistants, offices, commissions, letterheads, and secretarial staffs. If the publication and mailing of releases were the answer for the Church, the means of salvation would already be in operation. Whatever the problems of their relation, church and state seem to have at least one thing in common: both apparently regard the growth of bureaucracy as a gain. The establishment of a new office, equipped with a duplicating machine and mailing privileges, is somehow always thought to be a great step forward.

Self-preservation is the first instinct of successful bureaucracy. The bureau has a way of continuing long after the need that gave it birth has vanished. The front that indicates the importance of the office must be maintained. Consciously or not, a bureau knows that it comes under the heading “overhead.” It must therefore find ways by which it can justify the expense of its existence.

This justification may take the form of a flurry of activity. The departmental service must be shown to be a service to the whole body; the leaders must know what is being thought and said at the grass-roots level. This belief occasions a series of conferences with dinner meetings, a keynote speaker, group discussion leaders (who must previously have met for training), and multiple acknowledgments of the vital role such occasions play in the church of today in the world of today. A liaison committee is appointed to correlate the “findings” of these meetings with the “findings” of other similar meetings, and to relate them to the activities of other bureaus. This means that there must be regional and national conferences. And all these findings and recommendations must not be permitted to pass away as a flower of the field. A many-paged report must be sent out to inform everyone of the bureau’s activity, which the “grass roots” is demanding and must therefore sustain financially. Then perhaps study groups meet to discuss the report. And so it goes.

In true Parkinsonian fashion the departments multiply. Soon there must be interdepartmental commissions and representatives. Then the whole movement requires interpreters. Meanwhile, budgets grow. As budgets grow, additional time and effort are needed to justify the whole interlocking enterprise. It is not merely that the bureaus become self-perpetuating institutions. The whole church is increasingly dominated by these bureaus, each of which sends forth forms to be filled out in triplicate. The whole church becomes enmeshed in interdepartmental memos and conferences. Presidents, moderators, and all other leaders may come and go, but the bureaus go on and on forever.

We may chafe in the present development of the passion for union on the one side and the denominational emphasis on the other. There is indeed reason for concern if the cause of Christ is to become a merger of institutional establishments. Under these circumstances any merger would offer a new and larger field for bureaus, offices, duplicating machines, mailings, and forms—and the financial assessments required to sustain them.

The problem is that the brave vision for a united witness as a means for a sturdier carrying of the cross may be caught up in the enlarged potential for bureaucracy within the larger whole. Far from gaining a strong new prophetic voice, far from receiving new life that brings new impetus to lay claim upon men and the order of our day in the name of Jesus Christ, we may find that we have only brought about an organization where the mediocrity of bureaucracy casts a pall upon the whole.

T. Leo Brannon is pastor of the First Methodist Church of Samson, Alabama. He received the B.S. degree from Troy State College and the B.D. from Emory University.

“Because you have kept my word of patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial which is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell upon the earth. I am coming soon; hold fast what you have” (Rev. 3:10, 11a, RSV).

Whether we are living in the “last days” we do not know. We do know that we are living in days that try the souls of men, in days when, if it were possible, the very foundations would be shaken.

The spirit of lawlessness is abroad—mobs, demonstrations, protests, collusions of evil men to do evil, flagrant disregard for the law and resistance to those who would enforce it.

Violence, hatred, strife, and bloodshed are the order of the day. Contempt for God and man is so evident that even Christians would tremble for their own future were it not for one thing: the anchor of the soul, Jesus Christ and his eternal Gospel.

God tells us that such an hour of trial is coming, and he has promised those who are faithful to his Word in patient endurance, “I will keep you.” In him there is both peace and hope.

One of the most difficult truths for the Christian to grasp is the completeness of his own need and the completeness of God’s provision for that need.

More than a century ago these words, so relevant for us today, were written:

My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;

All other ground is sinking sand,

All other ground is sinking sand.

Today, in the midst of the tumult of a world that has rebelled against God and is rushing pell-mell toward judgment, the hope of the Christian rests solely on the word and work of God in the person of his Son, the presence of his Spirit, and the promises of his Word.

Not long ago, the newspapers carried pictures of the lifeless body of Dr. Paul Carlson, taken on the square at Stanleyville where he had fallen. As I looked at that peaceful face I could only think of the heroes of faith enumerated in the eleventh chapter of the book written to Hebrew Christians, those “of whom the world was not worthy” (Heb. 11:38a). The most impressive thing was the expression of perfect peace on Paul Carlson’s face—a peace that the world can neither give nor take away, because it is the peace of God, beyond the understanding of man.

The lesson we so desperately need to learn is that all our hope rests in what Christ has done for us. Living as a Christian is a matter, not of “being good,” but of exercising the righteousness of Christ imputed to us. We can do nothing to merit this righteousness; it is the gift of God to those who believe.

The tremendous implications of this thought are difficult to grasp. God imputes the righteousness of his Son so that in his sight believers are covered as with a robe—sin blotted out and the perfection of his Son becoming our own.

The Chinese character for righteousness is a remarkable illustration of that thought. It consists of the character for a “lamb” above the character for the personal pronoun “me.” As God looks at me, a rotten sinner, he sees above me a lamb, his Son; he sees, not me, but righteousness—the righteousness of the Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world.

During our Lord’s earthly ministry men began to turn away from him, going their own lost way. Jesus said to his disciples, “Will you also go away?” Peter answered, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (John 6:68, 69).

To us are given the words of eternal life, a life bestowed upon all who in childlike faith believe in and accept the redeeming work of Christ.

In our time iniquity is becoming increasingly bold; if it were possible, the faith of the elect would be shaken. We are confronted by those who call evil good and good evil, who defy every way of righteousness while they condone the works of Satan.

At such a time the Christian must keep himself unspotted from the world, a living witness to the transforming and keeping power of Christ.

It is tragic that so few Christians live as Christians should. What we say and do speaks so loudly that men see nothing to commend the Gospel we profess.

The Christian needs to learn that he must appropriate to his own life the things provided in Christ. He must learn that being a Christian is not “being good” but having in him the goodness of Christ by His indwelling presence. The righteousness of a Christian is not what he himself does but what Christ has done and does through him.

A transformation of this kind requires three things: a humble heart, a willing mind, and an obedient will—the humility to admit one’s condition and need, a wisdom that comes as God’s gift, and a will to walk by faith.

The thought that God expects us not to do but to accept what he has done for us is overwhelming. All of us are so anxious to earn our salvation, to merit God’s approval, that we have some difficulty in accepting the fact that “our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.” But unless we hold fast to this word of the completeness of Christ’s work, we will find ourselves floundering and foundering in the chaos of a world that has gone mad in its rebellion against God.

Stop, take a look, listen. These are days when the souls of men are being tried by the wickedness of the pride and rebellion we find all about us.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the perversion of Christianity into a new religion. This new religion is humanistic; it puts the physical and material welfare of man first. Even the Church seems more concerned about making the prodigal happy and comfortable in the far country than in bringing him back to his heavenly Father.

If you question this, take a look at multiplied programs for material and physical betterment that ignore completely man’s greatest need—the need of his soul for the cleansing, forgiveness, and redemption to be found in Christ and nowhere else.

In the midst of this world in turmoil, not only of action but also of outlook, how should the Christian live?

Most of us have seen the picture of a tiny bird asleep on the limb of a storm-tossed tree. The Christian also should exhibit a serenity of spirit, for he knows the God who has permitted the storm and the Christ who is the unshakable foundation.

Above all else, he should rest in the sure promises of God given to all who put their trust in him.

God, according to the Bible, is not just one person, but he is three persons in one God. That is the great mystery of the Trinity.

The Trinity is revealed to us only in the Bible. God has revealed some things to us through nature and through conscience. But the Trinity is not among them. This he has revealed to us by supernatural revelation and by supernatural revelation alone.

We can, it is true, detect something in the doctrine of the Trinity that serves to render clearer and richer even what nature and conscience reveal. Nature and conscience reveal, in a revelation which, it is true, sinful man seldom receives, a personal and holy God, Creator of the world. But how can a personal and holy being exist entirely alone?

We ought to be exceedingly cautious about such considerations. Though God is a person, he is a person very different from us finite persons, and I am not sure that we could ever have said, on the basis of any general revelation in nature and conscience, that an infinite person could not have existed entirely alone.

Within the Word of God, it is in the New Testament that the doctrine of the Trinity is taught. There are hints of it in the Old Testament, but they are only hints, and it was left to the New Testament for this precious doctrine to be clearly revealed.

In the New Testament, the doctrine is taught with the utmost clearness; and the doctrine is presupposed even more than it is expressly taught. That is, the New Testament is founded throughout on the doctrine of the Trinity, and the doctrine was really established by the great facts of the incarnation of the Son of God and the work of the Holy Spirit even before it was enunciated in words.

Only the smallest part of the teaching of the New Testament about the Trinity is found in passages where the doctrine is stated as a whole. What the New Testament ordinarily does is to state parts of the doctrine, so that when we put those parts together, and when we summarize them, we have the great doctrine of the three persons and one God.

For example, all passages in the New Testament where the deity of Jesus Christ is set forth are, when taken in connection with passages setting forth the deity and personality of the Holy Spirit, passages supporting the doctrine of the Trinity.

What needs to be observed is that although by far the larger part of the biblical teaching about the Trinity is given in that incidental and partial way—presupposing the doctrine rather than formally enunciating it as a whole—yet there are some passages where the doctrine is definitely presented by the mention, together, of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

The most famous of such passages, I suppose, is found in the Great Commission, given by the risen Lord to his disciples according to the twenty-eighth chapter of Matthew: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” There we have a mention of all three persons of the Trinity in the most complete coordination and equality—yet all three persons are plainly not three Gods but one. Here, in this solemn commission by our Lord, the God of all true Christians is forever designated as a triune God.

We think also, for example, of the apostolic benediction at the end of the Second Epistle to the Corinthians: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Ghost, be with you all.” Here the terminology is a little different from that in the Great Commission. Paul speaks of the Son as “the Lord.” But the word “Lord” in the Pauline Epistles is plainly a designation of deity, like the other Greek word which is translated into English by the word “God.” It is the Greek word used to translate the holy name of God, “Jehovah,” in the Greek translation of the Old Testament which Paul used, and Paul does not hesitate to apply to Christ Old Testament passages which speak of Jehovah.

That brings us to something supremely important in the teaching of the whole New Testament about the Trinity. It is this—that the New Testament writers, in presenting God as triune, are never for one moment conscious of saying anything that could by any possibility be regarded as contradicting the Old Testament teaching that there is but one God. That teaching is at the very heart and core of the Old Testament. It is every whit as much at the heart and core of the New Testament. The New Testament is just as much opposed as the Old Testament is to the thought that there are more Gods than one. Yet the New Testament with equal clearness teaches that the Father is God and the Son is God and the Holy Spirit is God, and that these three are not three aspects of the same person but three persons standing in a truly personal relationship to one another. There we have the great doctrine of the three persons but one God.

The doctrine is a mystery. No human mind can fathom it. Yet what a blessed mystery it is! The Christian’s heart melts within him in gratitude and joy when he thinks of the divine love and condescension that has allowed us sinful creatures a look into the very depths of the being of God.—J.G.M.

Vladimir Solovyov (1853–1900), whom the Encyclopedia Britannica describes as a Russian idealistic philosopher, critic, and poet, became dissatisfied with his Orthodox heritage. His spiritual pilgrimage is perhaps best described in K. Mochulsky’s Vladimir Solovyov, published in Paris by the YMCA Press in 1935. In the closing years of his life Solovyov had a premonition of approaching world-troubles. He believed that divine retribution would overtake human events in a world-catastrophe and that the swift end of history would be presaged by the coming of Antichrist. In contrast to Tolstoy’s doctrine of Christian “non-resistance” to evil, Solovyov stressed the importance of the Christian’s stern and relentless struggle against evil. Of his last work, A Short Story of Antichrist (published in 1901), Solovyov said: “I have written it to express my final view of the church problem.” This fascinating but little-known work is remarkable for the relevance of its prophetic insight.—ED.

There lived at that time a remarkable man—many called him a superman—who was as far from being a child in intellect as in heart. He was young, but his genius made him widely famous as a great thinker, writer and social worker by the time he was thirty-three. Conscious of his own great spiritual power, he had always been a convinced idealist, and his clear intelligence always made clear to him the truth of that which ought to be believed in: the good, God, the Messiah. He believed in all this, but he loved only himself. He believed in God, but at the bottom of his heart unconsciously and instinctively preferred himself to Him.

… The inordinate pride of the great idealist seemed justified both by his exceptional genius, beauty and nobility, and by his lofty asceticism, disinterestedness and active philanthropy. He was so abundantly blessed with gifts from above that he was scarcely to blame for regarding them as special signs of exceptional divine favour; he considered himself as next to God, as the son of God in a unique kind of way. In short he recognized himself for what Christ really was. But this consciousness of his own higher dignity expressed itself not as a sense of moral obligation to God and the world, but as a conviction that he had rights and privileges over others, especially over Christ. At the beginning he had no hostility against Jesus. He admitted His messianic dignity and significance, but he sincerely saw in Him merely the greatest of his own predecessors; his mind, clouded by pride, could not understand Christ’s moral achievement and His absolute uniqueness. He reasoned thus: “Christ came before me; I come second; but that which in the order of time comes later is essentially prior. I come last, at the end of history, just because I am the perfect and final saviour. The first Christ was my forerunner. His mission was to anticipate and prepare my coming.” With this idea in his mind the great man of the twenty-first century applied to himself all that is said in the Gospel about the second coming, understanding by it, not the return of the same Christ, but the replacement of the preliminary Christ by the final, that is, by himself.

… This man also justified his proud preference of himself to Christ by the following argument: “Christ, in preaching the moral good and manifesting it in his life, was the reformer of mankind, but I am destined to be the benefactor of this partly reformed, and partly incorrigible mankind. I shall give all men what they need. Christ as a moralist divided men into the good and the bad, but I will unite them by blessings which are needed by the good and the bad alike. I shall be the true representative of the God who makes His sun to rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the just and the unjust. Christ brought a sword, I shall bring peace. He threatened the earth with the dreadful last judgment. But I shall be the last judge, and my judgment will be one of mercy as well as of justice. There will be justice too in my judgment, not retributive, but distributive justice. I will make distinctions between people and give everyone his due.”

In this beautiful frame of mind he waited for some clear call from God, for some manifest and striking testimony to his being the eldest son, God’s beloved first-born. He waited, and meanwhile nurtured his selfhood on the contemplation of his superhuman gifts and virtues—as already said, he was a man of irreproachable morality and extraordinary genius.

The righteous and proud man waited and waited for a sanction from above to begin his work of saving humanity—and still the sanction did not come. He was thirty-three years old already: another three years passed. And suddenly there flashed through his mind a thought that sent a hot tremor into the very marrow of his bones: “And what if …? What if not I, but that other … the Galilean.… What if He is not my forerunner, but the real one, the first and the last? But then He must be living.… Where is He?… What if He comes to me … here, now.… What shall I say to Him? Why, I shall have to bow before Him like the most stupid of Christians, shall have to mutter senselessly like a Russian peasant, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner,’ or grovel like a Polish countrywoman! I, the bright genius, the superman! No, never!” And instead of the former cold rational respect for God and Christ there was born and grew in his heart, first, a kind of terror, and then a burning, choking and corroding envy and furious, breath-taking hatred. “I, I, and not He! He is not living, He is not and shall not be. He is not risen. He is not risen from the dead! He rotted in the tomb, rotted like the lowest.…”

Foaming at the mouth, he rushed out of the house and garden and, leaping and bounding, ran in the black depth of the night along the rocky path.… The fury died down, and despair, hard and heavy as the rocks and dark as the night, took its place. He stopped at the sheer drop of the cliff and heard the vague noise of the stream rushing along the stones far below. Unendurable anguish weighed on his heart. Suddenly something stirred within him. “Shall I call Him—ask Him what I am to do?” And the sad and gentle image seemed to rise before him in the darkness. “He pities me.… No, never! He did not, He did not rise from the dead!”

And he threw himself down from the cliff. But something resilient like a water spout supported him in the air, he felt a kind of electric shock, and some power flung him back. He lost consciousness for a moment and when he came to himself he was kneeling a few steps away from the edge of the cliff. He saw the outline of a figure glowing with a misty phosphorescent light and its eyes penetrated his soul with their intolerable sharp brilliance.

He saw those piercing eyes and heard—he did not know whether from within himself or from outside—a strange voice, toneless and, as it were, stifled, and yet clear, metallic and absolutely soulless as though coming from a phonograph. And the voice was saying to him: “You are my beloved son in whom I am well pleased. Why have you not sought me? Why did you revere that other, the bad one, and His Father? I am your god and your father. And that other one, the beggar, the crucified, is a stranger both to me and to you. I have no other son but you. You are my only one, only begotten, co-equal with me. I love you and ask nothing of you. You are beautiful, powerful and great. Do your work in your own name, not in mine. I have no envy, I love you. I want nothing from you. He whom you regarded as God asked of His son boundless obedience, obedience unto death, even the death of the cross, and He did not help Him on the cross. I ask nothing of you, and I will help you. I will help you for your own sake, for the sake of your own dignity and excellence and of my pure disinterested love for you. Receive my spirit. Once upon a time my spirit gave birth to you in beauty, now it gives birth to you in power.”

At these words of the unknown being the superman’s lips opened of themselves, two piercing eyes came quite close to his face, and he felt a sharp, frozen stream enter into him and fill his whole being. And at the same time he was conscious of wonderful strength, energy, lightness and rapture. At that instant the luminous outline and the eyes suddenly disappeared, something lifted him into the air and at once deposited him in the garden by the house door.

Next day not only the great man’s visitors but even his servants were struck by his peculiar, as it were, inspired expression. They would have been still more impressed could they have seen with what supernatural ease and speed he wrote, locking himself in his study, his famous work entitled The Open Way to Universal Peace and Welfare.

… That book, written after the adventure on the cliff, showed in him an unprecedented power of genius. It was all-embracing and all-reconciling. It combined noble reverence for ancient traditions and symbols with broad and bold radicalism in social and political demands and precepts, boundless freedom of thought with the deepest understanding of all things mystical, absolute individualism with ardent devotion to the common good, the most lofty idealism of the guiding principles with thoroughly definite and concrete practical conclusions. And it was all put together with such consummate art that every one-sided thinker or reformer could easily see and accept the whole entirely from his own particular point of view, without sacrificing anything for the truth itself, or rising above his own self for the sake of it, or giving up his one-sidedness, or in any way correcting his mistaken views and aspirations, or trying to make up for their insufficiency.

… No one raised objections against this book, for it seemed to everyone a revelation of the all-embracing truth. It did such complete justice to the past, it passed such dispassionate judgment on every aspect of the present, it brought the better future so concretely and tangibly within reach, that everyone said: “This is the very thing we want; here is an ideal that is not utopian, a plan which is not a chimera.” The wonderful writer carried all with him and was acceptable to everyone, so that Christ’s words were fulfilled:

“I am come in my Father’s name, and ye receive me not: if another shall come in his own name, him ye will receive.” For in order to be received, one must be acceptable.

True, some pious people, while warmly praising the book, wondered why Christ was not once mentioned in it; but other Christians replied: “And a good thing too! In the past, everything holy was so bedraggled by all kinds of self-appointed zealots, that nowadays a deeply religious writer has to be very careful. And since the whole book is permeated by the truly Christian spirit of active love and all-embracing benevolence, what more do you want?” And all agreed with this.

Soon after the publication of the Open Way, which made its author the most popular man in the world, there was held in Berlin the international constituent assembly of the European States Union.

… The “initiated” decided to concentrate executive power in the hands of one person, investing him with sufficient authority.… The man of the future was elected almost unanimously lifelong president of the United States of Europe. When he appeared on the rostrum in all the brilliance of his superhuman young strength and beauty and, with inspired eloquence, expounded his universal programme, the assembly, charmed and completely carried away, in a burst of enthusiasm decided without putting it to the vote to pay him the highest tribute by electing him Roman emperor. The assembly closed amidst general rejoicing, and the great elect published a manifesto beginning with the words, “Peoples of the earth! My peace I give unto you,” and ending as follows: “People of the earth! The promises have been fulfilled! Eternal universal peace is secured. Every attempt to disturb it shall be immediately met with overwhelming opposition. Henceforth there is in the world one central power which is stronger than all other powers, both separately and taken together. This invincible and all-conquering power belongs to me, the plenipotentiary chosen emperor of Europe and ruler of all its forces. International law is supported at last by sanctions that have hitherto been lacking to it. Henceforth no country will dare to say ‘war’ when I say ‘peace.’ Nations of the world, peace be unto you!” The manifesto had the desired effect.

… Within a year a world-wide monarchy in the exact and proper sense of the term was founded. The seedlings of war were pulled out by the roots. The League of Universal Peace met for the last time and, having addressed an enthusiastic eulogy to the great peace maker, dissolved itself as no longer necessary. In the second year of his reign the Roman and universal emperor issued another manifesto: “Peoples of the earth! I promised you peace and I have given it you. But peace is only made sweet by prosperity. It is no joy to those who are threatened with destitution. Come unto me, all you that are cold and hungry and I will give you food and warmth.” Then he announced a simple and all-inclusive social reform that was already indicated in his book and had captivated at the time all noble and clear minds. Now that the world’s finances and enormous landed properties were concentrated in his hands, he could carry out this reform and satisfy the desires of the poor without appreciable injustice to the rich. Everyone was paid according to his capacity, and every capacity was rewarded according to its merits and results.

… There was firmly established in all mankind the most important form of equality—the equality of general satiety. That was done in the second year of his reign. The social and economic problem was solved once for all. But though food is of first importance to the hungry, those who have sufficient food want something else.

Even animals when they have had enough to eat want not merely to sleep but to play as well. This is even more true of men who post panem have always demanded circenses.

The superman-emperor understood what the crowd needed. At that time a great magician surrounded with a halo of strange facts and wild fairy-tales came to him in Rome from the distant East.

This magician, Apollonius by name, unquestionably a man of genius, semi-Asiatic and semi-European, was a Catholic bishop in partibus infidelium. He combined in a marvellous way a mastery of the latest discoveries and technical application of Western science with a knowledge both theoretical and practical of all that is real and significant in the traditional mysticism of the East. The results of this combination were astounding. Apollonius mastered, for instance, the half-scientific and half-magical art of attracting and directing at his will atmospheric electricity, so that people said he commanded fire to come down from heaven. But while striking the imagination of the multitude by all kinds of unheard-of novelties he refrained for a time from abusing his power for any special purposes. And so this man came to the great emperor, worshipped him as the true son of God, and, declaring that in the secret books of the East he had found direct prophecies about him as the last saviour and judge of the earth, offered himself and his art in service to him. The emperor was charmed, accepted him as a gift from above, and bestowing splendid titles upon him, kept the magician permanently at his side. The peoples of the earth, having received from their master the blessings of universal peace and abundant food for all, were also given the chance of permanently enjoying the most diverse and unexpected signs and miracles. The third year of the superman’s reign was coming to an end.

The political and social problems were happily solved; now there was the religious problem to deal with. The emperor himself raised it, and first of all with reference to Christianity. The position of Christianity at that time was as follows. It had considerably decreased in numbers—there were not more than forty-five million Christians on the whole of the globe—but it had pulled itself together morally and reached a higher level, so that it gained in quality what it had lost in quantity. Men who had no spiritual interests in common with Christianity were no longer numbered among Christians. The different denominations had lost about the same proportion of their members, so that the numerical relation between them was approximately the same as before; as to their mutual feelings, though there was as yet no complete reconciliation, the hostility between them had lessened considerably, and the differences had lost their former sharpness. Papacy had long been exiled from Rome and after many wanderings found shelter in St. Petersburg on condition that it was to refrain from propaganda, both there and within the country. In Russia it assumed a much simpler form. Without decreasing the necessary personnel of its colleges and offices, it had to spiritualize the nature of their activities, and also to bring down to the minimum its splendid ritual and ceremonial observances. Many strange customs that might be a stumbling block fell out of usage, though they were not formally abolished. In all other countries, especially in North America, the Roman Catholic hierarchy still had many representatives with an independent position, strong will and indefatigable energy; they made the unity of the Roman Church more closely knit than ever and preserved its international, cosmopolitan significance. As to Protestantism, which was still headed by Germany, especially after the reunion of a considerable part of the Anglican Church with Catholicism, it had freed itself from its extreme negative tendencies whose champions openly passed over to religious indifference and unbelief. Only sincere believers remained in the Evangelical Church; the men who stood at the head of it combined wide erudition with deep religious faith, and strove more and more to become the living image of the true ancient Christianity. Russian Orthodoxy had lost many millions of its nominal members when political events changed the official position of the Church, but it had the joy of being united to the best elements among the Old Believers and even among many sectarians of the positively religious type. The regenerated Church, while not increasing in numbers, grew in spiritual power, which showed itself very clearly in the struggle against extremist sects with a demonic and Satanic tinge that had multiplied both among the masses and in society.

During the first two years of the new reign the Christians’ attitude towards the emperor and his peaceful reforms was one of definite sympathy and even enthusiasm. But in the third year, when the great magician appeared, many of the Orthodox, Catholics and Evangelicals began to feel uneasy and to disapprove. The passages in the Gospels and the Epistles about the prince of this world and antichrist were read more attentively than before and excited lively comments. From certain signs the emperor guessed that a storm was gathering, and decided to make haste and clear up matters. Early in the fourth year of his reign he addressed a manifesto to all his faithful Christians of whatsoever denomination, inviting them to elect or appoint plenipotentiary representatives to an ecumenical council under his presidency. By that time he had transferred his residence from Rome to Jerusalem. Palestine was then an autonomous state, populated and ruled chiefly by Jews. Jerusalem had been a free city and was now made an imperial one. Christian holy places remained intact, but the whole of the broad terrace Haram-ash-Sharif, from Birket-Israin and the barracks on one side, and down to the El-Aksa mosque and “Solomon’s stables” on the other, was occupied by a huge new building. It included, in addition to two small old mosques a large “Imperial” temple for the union of all cults, and two luxurious imperial palaces with libraries, museums and special accommodation for magical experiments and exercises. The ecumenical council was to open in this semi-temple and semi-palace on the fourteenth of September. Since the Evangelical denomination has no priesthood in the proper sense, the Orthodox and Catholic hierarchs in accordance with the emperor’s wish decided, for the sake of uniformity among the delegates, to admit to the council some of their laymen known for their piety and devotion to the interests of the Church; and if laymen were admitted, the rank and file of the clergy and monks could not be excluded. Thus the general number of the council members exceeded three thousand, and about half a million Christian pilgrims flooded Jerusalem and Palestine.

There were three outstanding men among the council members. First, the Pope Peter the Second who, by right, headed the Catholic part of the council. His predecessor died on the way to the council, and a conclave convened at Damascus unanimously elected Cardinal Simone Barionini, who took the name of Peter. He was of humble origin, from the province of Naples, and became known as a Carmelite preacher; he had done much good work in combating a certain Satanic sect that had gained great influence in St. Petersburg and the neighbourhood and was leading astray both the Orthodox and the Catholics. He was made bishop of Mogilyov and afterwards a cardinal, and was singled out beforehand for the papal tiara. He was a man of about fifty, of medium height and strong build, with a red face, an aquiline nose and bushy eyebrows. Warm-hearted and impetuous, he spoke with fervour and sweeping gestures, and carried away rather than convinced his audience. The new Pope expressed distrust and disapproval of the world-lord, especially after the late Pope, setting out for the council, had at the emperor’s insistence made the imperial chancellor and the great magician, the exotic bishop Apollonius, a cardinal. Peter considered Apollonius a dubious Catholic and an indubitable impostor.

The real, though unofficial, leader of the Orthodox was the Elder John, very well known among the Russian people. His official status was that of a bishop “in retirement,” yet he did not live in any monastery, but constantly travelled about. There were strange legends about him. Some people maintained that he was the risen Fyodor Kuzmich, that is, the Emperor Alexander I, who had been born some three centuries before. [There is a legend that Alexander I did not die in 1825 as recorded in history, but secretly left the palace disguised as a peasant and lived for many years a holy and ascetic life under the name of Fyodor Kuzmich.—Ed.] Others went further and said that he was the real Elder John, i.e. the apostle John the Divine who had never died and of late appeared openly. He himself said nothing about his origin or his youth. He was very old but still vigorous, with yellowish and even greenish white curly hair and beard, tall and thin, with full and slightly rosy cheeks, lively bright eyes and a touchingly kind expression in his face and voice; he always wore a white cassock and cloak.

The leader of the Evangelical members of the council was a most learned German theologian, Professor Ernst Pauli. He was a lean old man of medium height, with a huge forehead, sharp nose and clean-shaven chin. His eyes had a peculiar ferociously good-natured look. He constantly rubbed his hands, shook his head, menacingly knitted his brows and thrust out his lips; as he did so, his eyes glittered and he made gloomy and disjointed sounds: so! nun! ja! so also! He was dressed for the occasion and wore a white tie and a long clerical frock coat with some decorations.

The opening ceremony was most impressive. Two-thirds of the huge temple dedicated to the “unity of all cults” were occupied with benches and other seats for members of the council, and one-third was taken up with a tall platform; there were two thrones on it, one for the emperor, and a lower one for the great magician (cardinal and imperial chancellor), and behind them long rows of armchairs for the ministers, courtiers, and secretaries of state, as well as longer rows at the sides for a purpose unknown. The members had already celebrated their religious services in the different churches, and the opening of the council was to be entirely secular. When the emperor came in with his suite and the great magician, and the orchestra played “the march of united humanity,” which was used as the imperial international hymn, all those present rose to their feet and waving their hats called out loudly three times: “Vivat! Hurrah! Hoch!” The emperor, standing by his throne and with majestic benignity stretching out his hand, said in a pleasant and sonorous voice:

“Christians of all denominations! My beloved subjects and brothers! From the beginning of my reign which the Almighty has blessed with such wonderful and glorious deeds, I have not once had occasion to be displeased with you; you have always done your duty in all faith and conscience. But this is not enough for me. My sincere love for you, my beloved brothers, longs for reciprocity. I want you, not out of a sense of duty but from heartfelt love, to recognize me as your true leader in every work undertaken for the good of humanity. And so, in addition to what I do for all, I should like to bestow special favours upon you. Christians, what can I do to make you happy? What can I give you, not as to my subjects but as to my brethren and co-believers? Christians, tell me what is most precious to you in Christianity, that I might direct my efforts to it?”

He paused and waited. There was a low murmur in the temple. The members of the council were whispering among themselves. Pope Peter, warmly gesticulating, was explaining something to those around him. Professor Pauli was shaking his head and fiercely smacking his lips. The Elder John, bending down to an Eastern bishop and a grey friar, was quietly admonishing them in a low voice. After waiting for a few minutes the emperor addressed the council in the same kind voice, though now there was a hardly perceptible note of irony in it: “Dear Christians,” he said, “I understand how difficult it is for you to make one straightforward answer. I want to help you in this too. Unfortunately you have been broken up into various sects and parties since time immemorial and perhaps you have no longer a common aim. But if you cannot agree between yourselves I hope to bring agreement between all your parties by showing them all equal love and equal readiness to satisfy the true desire of each. Dear Christians! I know that for many and by no means the least of you the most precious thing in Christianity is the spiritual authority which it gives to its lawful representatives—not for their own advantage, of course, but for the common good, since such authority is the basis of true spiritual order and of moral discipline which is necessary to all. Dear brother-Catholics! oh, how well I understand your view and how I should like to find support for my power in the authority of your spiritual head! That you may not regard this as mere empty talk and flattery, I solemnly declare: in accordance with my autocratic will the chief bishop of all Catholics, the Pope of Rome, is henceforth restored to his Roman see with all the rights and privileges that had ever been given it by my predecessors, beginning with the emperor Constantine the Great. And all I want of you, brother-Catholics, is an inner heartfelt recognition of me as your only defender and patron. Let those who regard me as such in their heart and conscience come to me here.” And he pointed to the empty seats on the platform.

With joyful cries “Gratias agimus! Domine, salvum fac magnum imperatorem” almost all the princes of the Catholic Church, cardinals and bishops, the majority of believing laymen and more than half the monks went up on to the platform and, after low bows to the emperor, took their seats there. But down below, in the middle of the hall, straight and immovable as a marble statue, the Pope Peter the Second sat in his place. All who had surrounded him were on the platform. But the thinned ranks of monks and laymen closed around him, forming a narrow ring, and a restrained whisper came from there: “Non praevalebunt, non praevalebunt portae inferni.”

Glancing with surprise at the motionless Pope, the emperor raised his voice once more: “Dear brothers! I know that there are among you some who value most in Christianity its sacred tradition, ancient symbols, ancient hymns and prayers, ikons and holy rites. And what indeed can be more precious to a religious mind? Know then, beloved, that today I have signed the statute and settled large sums of money on the world-museum of Christian archaeology in our glorious imperial city of Constantinople for the object of collecting, studying and preserving all relics of church antiquity, especially the Eastern. I ask you to elect tomorrow from among yourselves a committee to discuss with me the measures that must be taken in order to make the present manners, customs and ways of living as conformable as possible to the tradition and ordinances of the holy Orthodox Church. Brother-Orthodox! Let those of you who appreciate my action and who can wholeheartedly call me their true lord and leader, come up to me here!”

A great number of hierarchs from the East and North, a half of the former Old Believers and more than half of the Orthodox priests, monks and laymen with joyful cries went up on to the platform, looking askance at the Catholics proudly seated there. But the Elder John sighed aloud and did not move. When the crowd around him had considerably thinned, he left his bench and moved nearer to the Pope Peter and his circle. He was followed by other Orthodox who had not gone up on to the platform.

The emperor spoke again: “I know, dear Christians, that there are among you some who value most in Christianity personal conviction of truth and free inquiry into the Scriptures. There is no need for me to speak of my own attitude on the subject. You may know perhaps that in my early youth I wrote an extensive work on Biblical criticism which made quite a stir at the time and was the beginning of my fame. Probably in memory of this the University of Tübingen asked me the other day to accept from them an honorary diploma of doctor in theology. I gave instructions to reply that I accept with pleasure and gratitude. And today, after instituting the museum of Christian archaeology, I have signed the statute of the world-institute for free inquiry into the Scriptures from every possible point of view and in every possible direction, and for the study of all auxiliary subjects, with an annual budget of one and a half million marks. Will those of you who appreciate my attitude and can genuinely recognize me as their sovereign leader please come up here to the new doctor of theology.”

A strange smile twisted for a moment the great man’s beautiful lips. More than half of the learned theologians moved towards the platform, though with some hesitation and delay. All looked back at Professor Pauli who seemed glued to his seat. He hunched his back, huddled himself together and hung his head. The learned theologians who had mounted the platform looked uncomfortable, and one of them, with a sudden wave of his hand, jumped straight down past the steps and ran, limping, to join Professor Pauli and the minority that had remained with him. Pauli raised his head and, getting up in an undecided sort of way, walked, followed by his staunch co-believers, past the empty benches and settled closer to the Elder John and the Pope Peter.

The emperor addressed them in a tone of sadness: “What more can I do for you? Strange men! What do you want of me? I do not know. Tell me yourselves, you Christians forsaken by most of your brothers and leaders and condemned by popular feeling: what is most precious to you in Christianity?”

Then, straight and slender like a white church candle, the Elder John stood up and answered gently: “Great emperor! Most precious to us in Christianity is Christ Himself—He Himself, and everything rests on Him, for we know that in Him all the fulness of Godhead dwells bodily. But from you too, sire, we are ready to receive every blessing if only we recognize in your bountiful hand the holy hand of Christ. And here is our straight answer to your question what you can do for us: confess now here before us Jesus Christ the Son of God, who came in the flesh, rose from the dead and is coming again—confess Him, and we will receive you with love as the true forerunner of His glorious second coming.”

He paused and looked steadily at the emperor. Something evil was happening to the great man. The same hellish storm raged within him as on that fateful night. He completely lost his inner balance, and all his thoughts were concentrated on not losing external self-control and not giving himself away too soon. He was making superhuman efforts not to throw himself with a wild yell at the speaker and tear at him with his teeth. Suddenly he heard the familiar unearthly voice: “Be still and fear nothing.” He remained silent. Only his darkened and death-like face was contorted and his eyes flashed.

While the Elder John was speaking, the great magician, who sat wrapped up in a voluminous three-coloured cloak that completely hid his red robe of a cardinal, seemed to be doing some manipulations under it; there was a look of concentration in his glittering eyes, and his lips moved. Through the open windows of the temple a huge black cloud could be seen gathering, and soon everything turned dark. The Elder John was still gazing with fear and amazement at the silent emperor; suddenly he drew back in horror and, turning round, cried in a stifled voice: “Children, it’s antichrist!” At that moment there was a deafening crash of thunder, a huge ball of lightning flared up in the temple and enveloped the Elder. All were stock-still for a moment. When the Christians recovered from the shock, the Elder John lay dead.

The emperor, pale but calm, addressed the assembly: “You have seen God’s judgment. I did not wish for anyone’s death, but my heavenly Father avenges his beloved son. The case is settled. Who would dare to oppose the Almighty? Secretaries! write: ‘The ecumenical council of all Christians, when the fire from heaven had struck the insane opponent of the divine majesty, unanimously recognized the mighty emperor of Rome and the world as their supreme leader and lord.’ ”

Suddenly a word spoken loudly and clearly resounded through the temple: “Contradicitur.” Pope Peter the Second, purple in the face and shaking with anger, stood up and raised his staff in the emperor’s direction. “Our only Lord is Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God. And what you are—you have just heard. Begone from us, you Cain! Begone, you vessel of the devil! By the power of Christ, I, the servant of the servants of God, forever expel you, a vile dog, from God’s fold and deliver you to your father, Satan! Anathema, anathema, anathema!”

While he was speaking the great magician restlessly moved under his cloak; there was a clap of thunder louder than the last anathema, and the last of the Popes fell down dead.

“This is how all my enemies shall perish at my father’s hand!” said the emperor.

“Pereant, pereant!” cried the trembling princes of the Church.

He turned and, leaning on the shoulder of the great magician, slowly walked out of the door at the back of the platform, followed by all his crowd. There were left in the hall two corpses and a throng of Christians half-dead with fear. The only person who had kept his self-possession was Professor Pauli. The general terror seemed to have roused all the powers of his spirit. His very appearance changed—he looked inspired and majestic. With resolute steps he mounted the platform and sitting down in the empty seat of one of the secretaries of state took up a piece of paper and began writing. When he had finished, he stood up and read aloud: “To the glory of our only Saviour, Jesus Christ. From the ecumenical council of God’s churches, gathered in Jerusalem: After our most blessed brother John, the representative of Eastern Christianity, had denounced the great deceiver and enemy of God as antichrist, foretold in Holy Writ, and our most blessed father Peter, the representative of Western Christianity, rightly and lawfully excommunicated him for life, the council, in the presence of the bodies of these two witnesses of Christ killed for the truth, has decided: cease all intercourse with the excommunicated and his vile conclave, and, withdrawing to the wilderness, await the impending coming of our true Lord Jesus Christ.”

The crowd was filled with animation. There were loud cries of “Adveniat! Adveniat cito! Komm, Herr Jesu, komm! Come, Lord Jesus!”

Professor Pauli made a postscript and read: “Having unanimously adopted this first and last act of the last ecumenical council, we append our signatures thereto”—and he made a gesture of invitation to the assembly. All hastily mounted the platform and signed. The last to sign, in large Gothic script, was “duorum defunctorum testium locum tenens Ernst Pauli.”

“Now let us go with our tabernacle of the last testament!” he said, pointing to the two dead men.

The bodies were put on stretchers. To the singing of Latin, German and Church-Slavonic hymns the Christians slowly walked to the exit from Haram-ash-Sharif. There the procession was stopped by a secretary of state, sent by the emperor and accompanied by an officer with a platoon of the guards. The soldiers stopped by the door, and the secretary read aloud: “The order of his divine majesty: to instil reason into the Christian people and protect them from evil-minded men who cause trouble and sedition, we have thought fit to exhibit the bodies of the two mischief-makers, killed by the fire from heaven, in the street of the Christians (Haret-en-Nasara) at the entrance to their chief temple, called the temple of the Sepulchre and also of the Resurrection, so that all may convince themselves of their actual death. As to their partisans who maliciously reject all our benefactions and foolishly shut their eyes to obvious manifestations of the Deity, through our mercy and intercession with the heavenly Father they are spared death by heavenly fire which they deserve and are left entirely free except for the prohibition, for the sake of the common good, to dwell in cities and other populated places lest they disturb and offend innocent and simple-minded people by their evil inventions.” When he had finished reading, eight soldiers, at a sign from the officer, approached the stretchers on which the bodies were laid.

“Let it be done as written,” said Professor Pauli, and the Christians silently passed the stretchers to the soldiers, who carried them away through the north-western gates; the Christians went out by the north-eastern, and hastily left the town. They walked past the Mount of Olives along the road to Jericho, which the mounted police and two cavalry regiments had cleared of the crowds. It was decided to wait for a few days on the desert hills by Jericho. The following morning some Christian pilgrims of their acquaintance came from Jerusalem and told what had happened in Sion. After a state banquet all the members of the council were invited to the huge throne room (near the place where Solomon’s throne is supposed to have stood), and the emperor, addressing the Catholic hierarchs, declared that the good of the Church obviously required of them immediately to elect a worthy successor of St. Peter; that under the present circumstances the election had to be held there and then; that the presence of the emperor as the leader and representative of the whole of Christendom would more than make up for omissions in the ritual, and that, in the name of all Christians, he suggested the sacred college should elect his beloved friend and brother Apollonius, so that the intimate bond between them would make the union between the Church and the state secure and indissoluble, to the benefit of both. The sacred college withdrew to a special room for the conclave and in an hour and a half returned with the new Pope Apollonius.

While the election was being held the emperor was gently, wisely and eloquently persuading the Orthodox and Evangelical delegates to end their old dissensions in view of the new era in the Christian history; he pledged his word that Apollonius would know how to do away forever with all the historical abuses of papacy. The Orthodox and Protestant delegates, convinced by his speech, drew up an act of union between the churches, and when, amidst joyful acclamations, Apollonius appeared on the platform with the cardinals, a Greek archbishop and an Evangelical minister presented their paper to him.

“Accipio et approbo et laetificatur cor meum,” said Apollonius, signing the document, “I am a true Orthodox and a true Protestant as much as I am a true Catholic,” he added and exchanged friendly kisses with the Greek and the German. Then he walked up to the emperor, who put his arms around him and held him in his embrace for some minutes.

Meanwhile curious points of light flitted in all directions about the palace and temple; they grew and transformed themselves into luminous forms of strange beings; flowers never seen on earth before fell in showers from above, filling the air with a mysterious fragrance. Delightful heart-melting sounds of strange musical instruments floated from on high, and angelic voices of invisible singers glorified the new lords of heaven and earth. In the meantime a terrible subterranean roar was heard in the north-western corner of the central palace under kubbet-el-aruah, i.e. the cupola of souls, where according to the Moslem tradition lies the entrance into Hades. When, at the emperor’s invitation, the assembly moved in that direction, all clearly heard innumerable high-pitched and piercing voices—children’s or devils’—calling out: “The time has come, release us, saviours, saviours!” But when Apollonius, pressing himself close to the wall, thrice shouted something to those under the earth in an unknown tongue, the voices were still and the subterranean roar subsided.

While all this was going on, an immense crowd of people surrounded Haram-ash-Sharif. When it grew dark, the emperor, together with the new Pope, came out on to the eastern balcony, raising “a storm of enthusiasm.” He graciously bowed in all directions, while Apollonius continually took from large baskets, brought to him by cardinals-deacons, and threw into the air magnificent Roman candles, rockets and fiery sprays, pearly-phosphorescent or bright rainbow-coloured, that caught fire at the touch of his hand. On reaching the ground they all turned into innumerable different-coloured sheets of paper with complete and unconditional indulgences for all sins, past, present and future. Popular rejoicing surpassed all bounds. True, some people said that they had seen with their own eyes the indulgences turn into hideous toads and snakes; but an overwhelming majority were enthusiastic. Public festivities went on for a few more days, and the new miracle-working Pope performed things so wonderful and incredible that it would be quite useless to describe them.

During this time the Christians on the desert heights of Jericho devoted themselves to fasting and prayer. On the evening of the fourth day, after dark, Professor Pauli with nine companions made their way to Jerusalem with asses and a cart, and went by side-streets to Haret-en-Nasara, approaching the entrance to the temple of the Resurrection, where the bodies of Pope Peter and the Elder John lay on the pavement. The streets were deserted at that hour, for the whole town had gone to Haram-ash-Sharif. The sentries on duty were fast asleep. The rescue party found that the bodies were untouched by corruption and had not even grown stiff or heavy. Putting them on the stretchers and covering them with cloaks brought for the purpose, the party returned by the same circuitous way to their people. As soon as they put the stretchers on the ground, the spirit of life returned to the dead. They stirred, trying to throw off the cloaks that covered them. With joyful cries all rushed to help them, and soon both the risen men were on their feet, safe and sound. And having come to life, the Elder John said: “Well, my dear children, so we are not parted after all. And this is what I tell you now: it is time we fulfilled Christ’s last prayer about His disciples that they should be one, as He and the Father are one. For the sake of this unity in Christ, my children, let us honour our beloved brother Peter. Let him pasture Christ’s sheep at the last. There, brother!”—and he embraced Peter.

Professor Pauli came up to them. “Tu es Petrus!” said he to the Pope. “Jetzt ist es ja gründlich erwiesen und ausser jedem Zweifel gesetzt [“Now this is thoroughly proved and established beyond all doubt”]. And he warmly pressed Peter’s hand with his right hand and gave his left to John, saying: “So also, Väterchen, nun sind wir ja Eins in Christo” [“So now, Father, we are really one in Christ”].

That was how the union of the churches took place on a dark night, in a high and solitary place. But the night’s darkness was suddenly lit up with a bright light, and a great sign appeared in the sky: a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars. The sign remained in the same spot for some time, and then slowly moved southwards. Pope Peter raised his staff and cried: “This is our banner! Let us follow it!” And he walked in the direction of the vision, followed by both the elders and the whole crowd of Christians—towards God’s Mount, Sinai.…

At this point the MS. breaks off, and Mr. Z. tells the end of the story as he heard it from “Father Pansophius” before Pansophius’s death.

When the spiritual leaders and representatives of Christianity retired to the Arabian desert, where crowds of the faithful devotees of truth flocked to them from all countries of the world, the new Pope was able without hindrance to demoralize with his miracles all the other, superficial Christians, not disillusioned about antichrist. He declared that by the power of his keys he had opened the doors between the earthly world and the world beyond the grave, and indeed intercourse between the dead and the living, and also between men and demons, become a thing of everyday occurrence, and there developed new and unheard-of kinds of mystical fornication and idolatry. The emperor began to consider himself firmly established on the religious ground, and at the insistent suggestion of the secret “father’s” voice declared himself to be the only true incarnation of the supreme Deity; but at this point he was faced with new trouble from an utterly unexpected quarter: the Jews rose up against him. This nation, numbering at the time some thirty millions, had a share in preparing and consolidating the superman’s world-wide success. And when he moved to Jerusalem, secretly encouraging the Jewish rumours that his main purpose was to establish Israel’s world domination, the Jews acknowledged him as the Messiah, and their enthusiastic devotion to him knew no bounds. But suddenly they rebelled, breathing anger and vengeance. This sudden change, no doubt predicted by both the Scriptures and the tradition, was explained by Father Pansophius perhaps rather too simply and realistically. The fact was that the Jews, who regarded the emperor as a full-blooded and perfect Israelite, accidentally discovered that he had not even been circumcised. On that very day the whole of Jerusalem and on the next day the whole of Palestine were in revolt. Boundless and ardent devotion to the saviour of Israel, the promised Messiah, was replaced by hatred, as boundless and as ardent, for the perfidious deceiver, the impudent impostor. The whole of Jewry rose up like one man, and its enemies saw with surprise that in its real depths the soul of Israel lived not by calculations and greed for gain, but by the power of heartfelt emotion—by the hope and wrath of its centuries-old messianic faith.

The emperor, who had not expected such a sudden outburst, lost his self-control and issued an edict sentencing to death all rebellious Jews and Christians. Many thousands and tens of thousands who had not had time to arm were slaughtered without mercy. But soon a million-strong army of Jews gained possession of Jerusalem and surrounded antichrist in Haram-ash-Sharif. He had at his disposal only a part of the guards and could not cope with the massed enemy. With the help of his Pope’s magical arts the emperor succeeded in making his way through the besiegers’ ranks, and soon again appeared in Syria with an innumerable army of different heathen tribes. The Jews set out to meet him with small hope of success. But just as the advanced guards of both armies were about to meet, there was an earthquake of unheard-of violence: under the Dead Sea, in the vicinity of which the emperor’s troops encamped, a huge volcano burst open and rivers of fire, merging into one flaming lake, swallowed up the emperor with all his numberless regiments and his inseparable companion Pope Apollonius, whose magic proved of no avail. The Jews ran towards Jerusalem in fear and trembling, calling on the God of Israel to save them. As they came in sight of the holy city, the sky was rent in two by a great lightning reaching from east to west, and they saw Christ coming down from heaven in royal array with wounds from the nails in His outstretched hands. At the same time a crowd of Christians led by Peter, John and Paul was approaching Sion from Sinai, and from all sides other enthusiastic crowds were running: those were the Jews and Christians executed by antichrist. They came to life again and reigned with Christ for a thousand years.

T. Leo Brannon is pastor of the First Methodist Church of Samson, Alabama. He received the B.S. degree from Troy State College and the B.D. from Emory University.

ARTHUR F. GLASSER¹Arthur F. Glasser is home director for the United States and Canada of the China Inland Mission—Overseas Missionary Fellowship (founded in 1865 by J. Hudson Taylor). He has the C.E. degree from Cornell, B.D. from Faith Theological Seminary, and honorary D.D. from Covenant College and Seminary. Dr. Glasser is co-author with Eric S. Fife of “Missions in Crisis.”

Approximately one-fifth of all Protestant North American overseas missionaries are related to agencies within the Interdenominational Foreign Mission Association. The IFMA, organized in 1917 as a “fellowship of missions without denominational affiliation,” presently comprises forty-six missions (popularly termed “faith missions”) united in theological commitment and missionary outlook. Its doctrinal platform is almost identical with that of the Evangelical Foreign Missions Association, although implicit in the IFMA’s “common adherence to the historic Christian faith” is a deep suspicion of Arminianism and, on the part of some, a fear of the Pentecostal “tongues” movement.

One of the friends of IFMA missions has written: “The star of faith missions has shone brightly for a quarter-century of unprecedented advance with nothing to suggest that it will not continue to do so and with every indication that while there may be a slowing down of its growth, it will continue to move forward impressively in the decades ahead” (Harold Lindsell, “Faith Missions Since 1938,” in Frontiers of the Christian World Mission, New York: Harper & Row, 1962, p. 230). “Move forward impressively.” This optimistic prediction is not universally shared within the IFMA. In fact, there are those deeply concerned over the future. Winds of change are blowing with gale force. Unless strong measures are taken today, there may be shipwrecks tomorrow.

The IFMA’s current problem is deeper and more fundamental than a matter of personnel. And it is not a matter of theology. There is little danger that the now prevalent spirit of theological relativism will penetrate IFMA ranks. All within IFMA are deeply persuaded of the truth and essentiality of Jesus Christ and the basic tenets of historic biblical Christianity. There is clarity in their understanding of revealed truth as well as awe over the mystery of God manifest in the flesh. Many IFMA missions are fifty to seventy years old; some are in their second century. They emerged and prospered in a time characterized by worldwide theological compromise; yet they preserve their theological integrity. They glory in their unshaken adherence to the faith once for all delivered to the saints. And there is every expectation that, with God’s grace and help, this tenacious loyalty will continue.

The Multiplying Ministries

Do some fear that IFMA missions will not be able to cope with the varied challenges and heavy demands of the future? Again, the problem is more than one of dedication and strategy. Through the years IFMA missionaries have shown that they know how to spend and be spent, to suffer and be killed, and to face difficult tasks creatively and with vision. IFMA missions either initiated or greatly developed such significant ministries as aviation, Bible correspondence courses, recruiting the laity for mission, evangelism-in-depth, pioneering among primitive tribes, language reduction and Bible translation, radio and television outreach, magazine evangelism and other types of literature work. In tribute to Gospel Recordings for sending more than 2½ million records into 150 countries in more than 2,000 languages, Dr. Lindsell commented: “Once again faith missions have indicated their genius for the use of new methods and their willingness to venture upon untried pathways because of their urgent desire to get the message of the Gospel to those who have never heard it” (ibid., p. 216). In a recent letter an IFMA missionary working in one of Indonesia’s great cities said of Paul Loeffler’s study document, Laymen in World Mission (International Review of Missions, July, 1964, pp. 297 f.): “This article describes very well our ‘cell group’ program … only there, it is yet theory, whereas here we are already well underway.” There is little doubt that the contribution of IFMA missionaries to the evangelization of this generation is significant.

Again, do some fear that IFMA missionaries use a methodology largely irrelevant to the world situation and that they are impervious to the advice of missionary statesmen? True, some missiologists feel that the IFMA does not get excited enough about social revolution, Communist infiltration, resurgence of ethnic religions, the virtually absolute claims nationalistic states have on the allegiance of Christians, and the racial issue. Critics sometimes fall prey to the temptation to caricature IFMA missionaries as obscurantists, pietists, and out-of-this-world pilgrims because of their obstinate refusal to be diverted from their most strategic service, the preaching and teaching of Jesus Christ.

Actually, however, current IFMA leadership is surprisingly well informed about all aspects of current missionary debate. Even a recent issue of the WCC’s prestigious International Review of Missions spontaneously confirms this: “The cleavage between liberals and conservatives today has little to do with their broad historical orientation to the revolutionary world.… Liberals have no monopoly of ecumenical concern.… The area of agreement in basic missionary principles between conservative evangelicals and ecumenically minded groups appears to be significantly greater now than in the past …” (October, 1964, pp. 484, 485). One has but to recall the December, 1964, Inter-Varsity missionary convention at Urbana, Illinois, to realize the wide representation of IFMA leaders in plenary sessions and workshops. These leaders ranged widely in their references to the most technical missionary literature. Their societies appear to be accepting the best insights of the day on how to perform the missionary task most effectively.

And yet, there is a deep concern about the future. This concern touches the whole tangle of relations between IFMA member missions and their constituencies—the individuals or groups in North America that support them by prayer and gifts and from whose ranks new recruits are enlisted. These supporters come from three main sources: independent churches, Bible schools and colleges, and independent-minded evangelical churches within old-line denominations. In our day all three of these sources are caught up in the profound changes taking place in the American religious scene. A few decades ago all was quiet and orderly. The IFMA missionary in his missionary trench overseas drew comfort from the sure loyalty of his friends at home. He also could predict with reasonable certainty the activities of those who were not his friends.

Today all is different. Demonic forces are at work producing a casual disregard for the past. And God has been working his strange work of renewal and withdrawal in response to faith or the lack of it—all this in most unexpected places. The resulting situation is both complex and fluid. It has produced a tension between the old tried pattern of the past, and new creative approaches to the challenge of the present. Some evangelicals on the home front are reacting so strongly that they are in danger of losing all biblical perspective. Others feel threatened by anything new and are “relegating an increasing number of ideas and viewpoints to a growing category of unthinkable thoughts,” to use Senator Fulbright’s phrase. They are transforming their concern into criticism of the missions and missionaries they formerly endorsed, whenever these appear to have changed in the smallest detail. All this touches the IFMA. Its missions and missionaries are struggling to define a strategy of response to this disintegration of their constituencies.

Decline Of Independency?

Consider the independent church movement. It is in the process of reorganization. In a hunger for identity with all those whom God has chosen, pastors and congregations that were formerly independent are swelling the ranks of such evangelical denominations as the Conservative Baptist Association. Some of the most able leaders of independency today fear that their movement is in decline, despite a few bright spots such as Southern California. Never have key independent churches encountered greater difficulty in securing topflight men to fill their pulpits. All this poses the crucial question whether IFMA missions should regard this movement as central to their constituency or seek a wider constituency. Both positions are strongly held within the IFMA. Inevitably this tension influences overseas effectiveness. Those particularly sensitive to the opinion of convinced independents appear less free to make changes in their work abroad. Pressures bend them to an attitude uncritical of nineteenth-century paternalism and white supremacy and keep them clear of all involvement in such things as social revolution or cooperative evangelism.

Another source of tension within IFMA ranks arises from the Bible school movement. Here also one meets transition, as these institutions seek to discover their role in an age rapidly moving toward college education for all qualified students. Should they become Christian liberal arts colleges? Those that move into liberal arts seem unable to maintain a vital sense of missionary concern. There are notable exceptions (for example, Philadelphia College of Bible and its creative approach to training young people for working in the inner city, at home or overseas). But the general drift means fewer recruits for IFMA missions. In reaction some faith missions are already taking a fresh look at the possibility of recruiting missionaries from theological seminaries. But they are discovering that today’s theological students, in their ecclesiastical sophistication, are less than impressed with the missionary society that does not follow a truly interdenominational pattern overseas.

All this poses the critical question of where IFMA missions are to go for their recruits. Where can the best men be found? At the Bible schools that have moved the least? Or at the seminaries? All agree that the future of the work overseas depends on the quality of personnel recruited today. Tensions result from the school or seminary loyalties of candidate secretaries and their assessment of the type of workers needed. One wonders whether the magnitude of this problem is fully grasped by the leadership of evangelical training schools in America today.

The third tension arises from the situation in denominational churches. Today there is a decline in the spirit of independency that used to characterize evangelical churches within old-line denominations. All faith missions have received valuable financial support from these churches in the past, and they naturally desire to maintain these contacts. And yet how can they honestly do this—especially when some of the faith missions are hardening in their policy of hostility toward cooperative evangelism overseas? The paradox has even been observed of missions receiving support from denominational churches at home while refusing to cooperate with their evangelical denominational missionaries overseas.

This leads to the charge of doublemindedness. How can professed antipathy to the ecumenical movement be justified by those who accept gifts from churches and people within its framework? Even the most determined anti-WCC crusaders gladly receive money from all and sundry without inquiring into their doctrinal or ecclesiastical persuasions. But this does not prevent them from engaging in the most strident attacks against the IFMA mission that encourages its missionaries to minister the Word of God in the denominational church. All this is immeasurably tragic. And it cannot but increase tensions within IFMA ranks.

What is the conclusion of the whole matter? Frankly I believe that the pressures of these days are calling the large family of IFMA missionaries to a greater determination than ever before to look to God to guard their reputations, strengthen their ministries, and enable them with singleness of heart to pursue their missionary calling. With the Apostle Paul they need to learn to say to their critics: “With us it is a very small thing that we should be judged of you.… He that judgeth us is the Lord.”