Monday, August 3, 2009

The Humanistic Spirit

June 22, 1958
Akron

The Humanistic Spirit

No one can remain long within the organization or influence of liberal religion without hearing a question or testimony about Humanism. Like certain erratic volcanoes, there are mild eruptions from time to time which indicate there are some persons who are anxious about Humanism. The persons who express misgivings usually indicate that Humanism is either foreign to historic Universalism, or that it is an attitude which will result in the decline and fall of our liberal faith. My primary concern in this sermon is to attempt to communicate a conviction I have cherished for many years, that any division in Universalism between “theists” and “humanists” is like the equator – it is an imaginary line.

In order to understand that this theological division is only an imaginary line among Universalists of good-will, there must be some freedom achieved from the tyranny of words and creeds. This should be a common-place among persons pledged to the free mind principle, but from time to time there are rumblings to the effect that freedom should be qualified by some sort of doctrinal requirement. Misunderstanding is certain to result when there is insistence upon certain words, rather than the search for common attitudes, values, and goals, which find various expression. There is a rather worn-out joke that illustrates this. A new and inexperienced maid was instructed by the lady of the house to dice the beets for dinner. Hours passed. Then the new servant, fretful and tired, came in and said, “Madam, cutting the beets up was easy, but putting all them black dots on ‘em was quite a job.”

If one things that religion has only one interpretation, his, he is destined to the frustration and unproductive hours as the maid who thought there was only one meaning to the word, “dice.”

It is an impossible task for liberalism to set up a classification called “religion” and permit only those who fit the pattern to enter. There are differing religions; “there is no such thing as religion in general.” Let’s not spend our productive, liberal years squirming under the unpleasant domination of words, but rather seek as Universalist allies all those who are willing to be united by purpose, rather than by confessional statement.

In dealing with “anxiety” words such as “humanism,” “the idea of God,” “worship,” etc., one always encounters the peril of provoking hostility and aggression, rather than achieving his goal, which is the need for re-examination of theological positions, and the reconciliation of attitudes which are essentially alike, even though superficially different. Abraham Lincoln was aware of the need for sober discussion of disputed issues. The newspapers frequently attacked Lincoln in a most savage fashion. Lincoln’s response was gentle and wise. He reminisced about the backwoods traveler whose horse gave out during a violent thunderstorm. Though not a praying man, he made a petition on his knees, “O Lord, if it is all the same to you, give us a little more light and a little less noise.”

Humanism is a word with different meanings. In the Renaissance, Humanism was the revival of classical Greek and Latin literature and culture. Dante, Petrarch, and others, sponsored by the wealthy patron families such as the Medici, prized the old manuscripts and sculpture and developed an emphasis on art and life in this world, as against the other-worldly spirit and goal of the medieval Church. A more favorable and exalted appraisal was made of the person and human spirit.

However, rather than exploring various other definitions and applications of Humanism, I would like to define religious Humanism, discuss some of its alleged deficiencies, its relevance for our modern age, and the total relationship within Universalism of both Humanism and Theism to what may be called “the humanistic spirit.”

What is religious Humanism? Two classical epigrams represent the most lucid, brief definitions. In ancient Greece, Protagoras wrote, "man is the measure of all things." More than two thousand years later, the English poet, Alexander Pope, re-stated it, "the proper measure of mankind is man."

Humanism is the affirmation that the only sources of our knowledge are human inheritance and experience, and that human experience is the only standard available for gauging human conduct and ideals. Paraphrasing Emmanuel Kant, the religious humanist believes the world of human experience as man knows it is the product of his understanding only. Thus the Humanist affirms that all creeds are human creeds, derived from human interpretations of human experience. The Humanist will usually regard the great religious ideas of miracle, prayer, God, evil, immortality, not as supernaturally revealed, incontestable propositions, but as human expressions and human appraisals of the varieties of personal and group experience. John Galsworthy once said, “Humanism is the creed of those who believe that within the circle of enwrapping mystery, men’s fates are in their own hands. A Faith that is becoming for modern man is the only possible faith.”

Humanists are sometimes thought by the uninformed to be atheists. Occasionally a Humanist will describe himself as an “atheist.” By and large, this word, “atheist,” (another anxiety word) is not a fair description of the average Humanist.

Many Humanists decline to use the God concept, not because they possess no spiritual values, but because they believe it to be a word carrying such a wide range of meaning, from quite primitive notions to intellectual abstractions, that continued undefined usage only increases intellectual confusion. Then, too, many Humanists believe that the ultimate mysteries of creation and destiny are beyond the ability of human comprehension. This humility in the face of cosmic mystery has its superb literary example in the book of Job. Zophar inquires of the discouraged Job,

“Can you find out the limits of God?
Or can you attain unto the boundary of the Almighty?
It is higher than the heavens – what can you do?
Deeper than Sheol – what can you know?” (11 7/8)

Some Humanists would be willing to accept the words of one of the most famous of the Fathers of the early Christian church, Gregory of Nyssa, who remarked, “The totality of humanity is God.”

All of us need the continuing discipline of remembering that words are symbols. Symbols are not usually plain, simple facts. Language is symbolic. Much religious language is poetic; much religious language is laced with analogy. Theology is an art rather than a science. If some theists are intolerant of humanists’ reluctance to use the word, “God,” then it is also true that some humanists are too eager to apply scientific testing to the symbolic apprehensions of the mysteries of existence.

One of the most repeated criticisms directed against Humanism is that it is emotionally cold, arid, irreverent, and incomplete. Furthermore, in extending complete confidence to man, and avowing that salvation is possible only through man’s efforts, Humanism is accused of advocating only a naïve optimism and a cautious good-will – that it has no potency to face the real problem of evil in individual and social man.

There is some merit in this criticism. A man-centered religion is seldom as emotionally exuberant as a gospel testimonial meeting. Certainly the events of the last generation supply ample evidence that a naïve optimism can only be ground to bits under the juggernaut of power-hungry nations and coalitions.

But in all fairness, the charges of coldness, irreverence, and naivete need to be disciplined with relevant observations.

In Erich Maria Remarque's fine novel, ARCH OF TRIUMPH, Ravic, the refugee surgeon is accused by the nurse, "There is no longer anything sacred to Mr. Ravic."

He answers, "You hit the mark, Eugenie. But when there is no longer anything sacred to one, every thing again becomes more sacred in a more human way. One reveres the earthworm and that which forces it from time to time up to the light of day .... That's not meant to be a comparison."

Nurse Eugenie: "You can't insult me. You have no faith. Thank God, I have my faith."

Ravic, "Faith can easily make one fanatical. That's why all religions have cost so much blood. Tolerance is the daughter of doubt, Eugenie. That explains why you, with all your faith, are so much more aggressive toward me, than I, lost infidel, are to you."

There is no real basis for a charge of coldness. The early Puritans, no Humanists they, were strongly convinced that religion should be cold. They eliminated stained-glass windows, musical instruments, colorful religious liturgy and festivals. The celebration of Christmas was made a crime of the same category as the pagan bacchanalia known as dancing around the Maypole. The very word “church” was anathema. The Puritans shivered in unheated “meeting houses.”

Humanism is incomplete – but I must admit, so are my particular theistic convictions, so are all religious ideas and practices incomplete, because man is incomplete. Man is still growing, man still searches for deeper, more comprehensive meanings. Neither Theist nor Humanist need feel he has achieved the ultimate in worship symbols or ethical ideas and [practices]. One of the great tests for liberal religion right now is the problem of creating an intellectually honest worship which will not be bereft of all emotion; which will not be deprived of the satisfactions of shared group feelings about life’s vital issues.

All liberal religious practices need refinement. The “Humanist” needs to beware of the arid desert of barren, ivory-tower intellectualism; the “Theist” should not forget the devastating criticism voiced by Harry Emerson Fosdick,

“They’re praising God on Sundays,
They’ll be all right on Monday,
It’s just a little habit they’ve acquired.”

Certain ideas of God can be quite as irreverent as a disinclination to speculate or worship. It is said that the aristocratic Lord Chesterfield had no fear of the final judgment, for “God was a gentleman, and would know a gentleman when he saw one.”

There is no real conflict in a church of the free-mind principle between Humanism and Theism. A distinctive scholar, the late Gilbert Murray offered a gentle reconciliation, "As far as knowledge and conscious reason will go, we should follow resolutely their austere guidance. When they cease, as cease they must, we must use as best we can those fainter powers of apprehension and surmise and sensitiveness why which, after all, most high truth has been reaches as well as high art and poetry; carefully always really to seek for truth and not for our own emotional satisfaction, careful not to neglect the real needs of men and women through basing our lives on dreams; and remembering above all to walk gently in a world where the lights are dim and the very stars wander."

Such an attitude toward the living is the humanistic spirit, I believe. The humanistic spirit is the common denominator of liberals. Whether a Universalist considers himself a theist, humanist, humanist-theist or theistic-humanist (I consider myself the latter), is not of surpassing importance. But of considerable concern, not only to liberalism’s survival, but also its legitimate justification for survival, is the humanistic spirit.

The humanistic spirit believes that religion is of the people. Every historical discovery confirms the social history of religion. Religions were born, grew, and died in the world. The religious saviors of mankind were of the people. The sacred scriptures of religions were the products of the myths, laws, poetry, biography, and dreams of people. The great churches and the little fellowship circles, the high altars and the plain testimonies of religion, have been of the people. People have interpreted the past and responded to the present. No matter how profound and awesome reverence may be, it is born in the feelings of people.

The humanistic spirit affirms that religion is by the people. People with their fears of the unknown, their tortuous wrestlings with difficult feelings, their need to live together, not only in an orderly fashion, but also with glowing ideals to light the difficult paths, have created and always will create religion. Priests, prophets, and law-makers are people. The unknown song-writers who created the great psalms, some in exaltation, some in abject humility, some in the arrogance of military assurance, some in the quiet piety of worship and waiting – all these were people. Religion is created by them. Ministers, priests, chairmen and secretaries are people.

The humanist spirit affirms that religion is for the people. Some historian has remarked that the Puritans were a laboring, sober, thrifty, methodical people, achieving their wealth and practicing their piety for the Glory of God and ten percent on their investment. There is more to this witticism than may first seem apparent. Think of Micah’s universal definition, “to do justice and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” To my mind there exists no superior definition of religion, or any other brief statement which defines so well the humanistic affirmation that religion is for people. Do we really need the promise of immortal happiness, golden streets and the doctrinal assurance that we shall “glorify God and enjoy him forever?” (if we are one of the “elect” and not consigned to everlasting fire). It is not more human to assert that religion is for people and assert with Brutus (Julius Caesar, Act II, Sc. 1), "What need we any spur but our own best cause?"

Benjamin Franklin noted the impression made on him by George Whitefield, famous 18th century evangelist. When Franklin offered the evangelist accommodations, Whitefield said if Franklin made that offer for Christ's sake, he should not miss a reward. Franklin replied, "Don't let me be mistaken; it was not for Christ's sake, but for yours." Then Franklin noted in his autobiography: "One of our common acquaintances jocosely remarked, that, knowing it to be the custom of saints, when they received any favor, to shift the burden of the obligation off their own shoulders, and place it in heaven, I had contrived to fix it on earth." The humanistic spirit contrives to fix religion on earth.

Not all persons are ready for this human religion. Nothing is more obvious than the eagerness with which most people cling to old concepts. Without passing judgment on the majority, it is also true that there is a minority, perhaps more people than we are hopeful enough to guess, ready for a mature, human religion. There is a faith which does not permit speculation to harden into dogmas, but encourages each person to anchor his personal faith on the wisdom acquired in the human venture. No Humanist need feel defensive because some of us choose to sound the name of god as the creator and creating spirit in which we live and move and have our being; none of the theistically inclined need feel alarmed because some persons associating with us feel no necessity to symbolize in words the source of the mystery of existence.

Universalism has emerged as a free faith, gathering in fellowship people who hold many different beliefs about the origin, destiny, and the proper nouns which symbolize these ideas about the living universe. But the fellowship is worth the effort when it not only gathers in freedom to worship, but projects into all its actions a universal concern for truth, known or to be known, and the fellowship and essential dignity of all members of the human family.

By our fruits shall we be known. These fruits will demonstrate how well we have exemplified the virtues born of humanity’s religions – freedom, love, justice, and a sense of proportion.

Max Lerner makes a most discerning comment about the great culture of the American Indian, and sets a light of human idealism for us when tribute is paid to the “passion and reverence for human personality, and for the web of life and the earth which the Indian has tended as a sacred, central fire, since before the Stone Age.”

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