Religious Extremes

Evening Round-Up
by William Crosbie Hunter

(Page 11 of 14)

Form, Frills, Ceremony vs. Excitement, Ecstasy, Enthusiasm

Many churches today are running to extremes one way or the other.

On the one hand they are conducted along the lines of form, ceremony and ritualism, while the other extreme is excitement, ecstasy and enthusiasm.

The church of form, rituals and ceremonies attracts the passive who are willing to let the priest or pastor or prelate take charge of the religious work while they, the attendants or worshippers, sit quietly by and say amen and join in the responses.

Paul said, "Away with those forms." Christ in ministering to humanity gave no forms or made no set sentences for his followers. The Lord's Prayer was given with the admonition, "After this manner pray ye," and certainly not with the command, pray ye with these words.

Form, ceremony and rituals are much like most associated charities, a sort of convention. Forms can not express the deep emotions, the natural longings, or the human desires; they are echoes, hollow and unsatisfying.

For those who do not feel, for those who do not act, for those who belong to churches because of convention, or for social reasons, form and frills fill the bill.

Form is an exterior religion, an outward show. Form doesn't touch the heart or awaken the soul. Form in religion is like a formal dinner. It is show rather than a plan to satisfy human heart hunger.

Opposite to formal religion is the frenzied "scare-you-to-death" excitement method, which relies upon mental intoxication to stir the people, and like other forms of intoxication, the effect soon wears off.

I have little patience or sympathy for the business men who hire professional evangelists to come to town to start revivals. The sensational revivalists have too acute appreciation of the dollar to convince me of their sincerity in their work.

A laborer is worthy of his hire, and a preacher, teacher or benefactor of any sort should be well paid. But when I see these big guns taking away ten to twenty thousand dollars in cold cash for three weeks' campaign converting the poor suffering people, the thought comes to me, that if the evangelist is sincere he should buy a lot of bread, coal and underwear and hire a lot of trained nurses with a big part of that money.

Christ and his Apostles were of the people; they worked with, and among the people; they had no committees, no guarantees and no business men's subscription lists.

It's mighty hard to read about these sensational evangelists taking in thousands of dollars for a couple of weeks' revival meetings, and harmonize that religion with the religion of Christ, the carpenter, and his Apostles, who were fishermen and workmen.

The excitement, intoxicating, frenzy revival method is pretty much always the same in its working. The evangelist starts in with the song "Where is My Wandering Boy Tonight," then follows the picture of mother, which is painted with sobs of blood. Then follows mother's death-bed scene until the audience is in tears. Gesticulation, mimicry, acting, sensationalism, slang and weepy stories follow, until the ferment of excitement is developed into a high state and droves flock to the altar to be made over on the instant into sanctified beings.

The evangelist stays until his engagement is up, and then departs with a pocket full of nice fat bank drafts.

It is a sad commentary on the established profession of ministry that sensational professionals are called in and paid fabulous prices to convert the people in their community.

I do not take much stock in either the frigid form with its frills or the frenzied fire and brimstone, scare-you-to-it extremes.

Somewhere between these extremes is the rational natural sane road to travel; the religion of brotherly love; of cheers, not tears; of hope, not fear; of courage, not weakness; of joy, not sorrow; of help, not hindrance.

The religion that makes us love one another here, not the kind that says we shall know each other there. The religion that has to do with human passions, human trials, human needs, instead of the frigid form or the fevered frenzy; the religion that avoids the extremes of heat and cold, that's the kind the world needs most.

Christ taught love, kindness, charity, and not beautiful churches, opera singing choirs. He spoke not of robes, vestments, forms or rituals.

One of the most beautiful things in the Bible is the story of the good Samaritan with his simple, unostentatious aid to a wounded man, an enemy of his people whom the Samaritan knew was none the less a brother. And you will remember the priest of the temple, the man who taught charity, and love, drew up his skirts and passed the wounded man by.

Published by Hunter Service Kansas City, Mo., USA
Copyright 1915 by WM. C. Hunter