Chapter 5: Prof. O’Connor’s Study — Thursday Afternoon

"Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" Prof. O’Connor asked, once the two young men were seated in her study. "You said you had a theological problem to discuss with me. I must warn you that I’m not a theologian. In my church few women are! My field is history of Christianity."

"Truthfully, your students speak so enthusiastically about your teaching that we thought you would be the ideal person to talk with. Thanks so much for seeing us so promptly." Chan-Hie began. "Tom and I got into a discussion of Christology, and we soon realized we needed help."

"My concern arose because of Chaplain Levovsky’s views," Thomas interjected. "I’ve always thought that belief in the deity of Jesus is the heart of what it means to be a Christian, but she dismisses that as an obstacle to faith. It’s hard for me to come to terms with that rejection."

"I haven’t heard the chaplain much myself," Prof. O’Connor commented, "but she’s known around here as a radical. I’ve often thought it’s a good thing she’s not ordained as a Catholic, although that’s quite pointless, since if she were a Catholic she would not be ordained! Seriously, I mean that in the present climate of my church she would get into a lot of trouble. I’m really glad for the Protestant denominations! They give space for lots of practices and ideas that we don’t seem able to tolerate -- at least at present."

"Are you saying that the church should tolerate heresy, even on Christology?" Thomas challenged her.

"As a historian," she replied, "I’ve grown a little skeptical of hard and fast definitions of orthodoxy. Sometimes the orthodoxy of one generation becomes the heresy of the next. There was a scholar in ancient Alexandria, named Arius, who taught that the Logos, or Word, that became incarnate in Jesus was a supernatural creature, the first and greatest of all creatures. Back in the fourth century there was a whole generation of Christians who were taught that Arianism was orthodoxy. It was their missionaries who converted to Christianity many of the Germanic tribes who later overran much of the Western Roman Empire. It was hard to persuade them that the Christianity to which they had been converted was heretical, that they must believe that the Word incarnate in Jesus was truly God."

"I’m sure I would have trouble acknowledging that what I was brought up to believe was heresy," Thomas agreed.

"Also, when we study the councils at which the decisions were made, it isn’t easy to be sure that faith and reason were always the causes of victory. A lot of what went on reads more like power politics."

Thomas had heard some of that before, but he hadn’t been much affected by it. In his present mood he was more vulnerable. He commented almost sulkily, "You make it sound as though the creeds don’t count for much."

Prof. O’Connor smiled: "Actually, I’m very glad Arianism lost out. I’m quite enthusiastic about the official teachings of the church about Christ."

"Why, then, make such a point of the vacillation between Arianism and what came to be orthodoxy?" Chan-Hie complained.

"I just mean to illustrate that Christological orthodoxy didn’t fall from heaven. It is not taught by Jesus himself, and it can only with difficulty be read back into Paul. What is orthodox gets decided in very human struggles within the community of faith. I have a lot of confidence in that struggle. Over time bad ideas tend to lose out. But if you just determine to be orthodox, official teaching may change, and you’ll have to scramble to change with it or end up a heretic."

"But hasn’t Christology been pretty well set since the Council of Chalcedon in the fifth century?" Thomas persisted. "That’s fifteen centuries; and the ancient creeds unite the Orthodox East, Roman Catholics, and mainstream Protestants! I’ve thought that was something to celebrate and cherish."

"You’re right, Thomas. And I do want to be part of that great consensus. That’s where I differ most from Chaplain Levovsky. She’s a preacher who wants to talk to people today in their own language and context. I’m a historian who feels a part of a great community and who wants to make sense of what ancient people said and to appreciate it. But I’m glad she’s doing what she’s doing."

"I still don’t understand you," Thomas fretted. "If there is a great consensus around the creeds, isn’t the task of the preacher to explain the content of that consensus in today’s language? It seems to me that Chaplain Levovsky wants to oppose the consensus. How can that be Christian?"

"I appreciate your persistence, Thomas. Maybe I do want to have my cake and eat it, too. But for me it’s important to remember that even after the Council of Chalcedon there were large groups of Christians who rejected what we call the orthodox Christology formulated there just because of their faith. One of these groups, the Nestorians, was for centuries an important factor in central Asia. Nestorian missionaries reached China and established churches there. And there were the Monophysites who dominated Egypt. They thought Chalcedon had given up the deity of Jesus!"

"But doesn’t the fact that those heretical groups faded from history tell us something about the worth of their doctrines?" Thomas pressed her.

"I don’t think so," Prof. O’Connor answered. "As I read history it was Muslim armies that reduced the Nestorians and the Monophysites to minor status. Somebody might argue that God raised up Mohammed to punish those Christians for their heresies, but that’s not the way I see it. And we should not underestimate the power of Nestorian and Monophysite faith to stay alive even under the most adverse circumstances. There are still Nestorian churches, in Iraq, for example. And Coptic Christians, descendants of the Monophysites, are an important part of contemporary Egyptian life. Also, I think one reason we can celebrate the consensus is that we see Christianity through North Atlantic eyes. We forget that Ethiopia has been Christian longer than Western Europe and that its Christianity is Monophysite."

Chan-Hie liked what he was hearing. It supported his need for space to think what Christianity could be in modern Korea. He wanted to understand better what Prof. O’Connor was saying. "All the names you are throwing around are ones I’ve come across before, but frankly those Christological debates in the early church are a blur to me. Could you remind me what the issues were?"

Prof. O’Connor laughed. She sometimes spent several weeks in class trying to help her students understand, and she knew from the exams that the blur was rarely dispelled. "I’ll try," she said, "but don’t expect too much in a few minutes!"

Chan-Hie also grinned. "I’ll take what I can get. Maybe through repetition it will begin to sink in."

"Perhaps the easiest place to get a handle on those debates is in the first chapter of the Gospel of John. In the first verse we are told the Logos, or the Word, was in the beginning with God and that it was God. Later, in verse 14, it says the Logos became flesh and dwelt among us. That refers to Jesus, of course, the enfleshment or incarnation of the Logos."

"But what is the Logos, anyway?" Chan-Hie interrupted.

"We could say it is the same as the ‘Son,’ but then you might think directly of the historical Jesus, and that wouldn’t do. Maybe the easiest way to get at it is to work backwards. The Logos is the aspect of the divine that was incarnate in Jesus. The church fathers agreed on that. But still they had two major debates about the Logos. First, how is the Logos related to the Father? Second, how was the Logos related to the human in Jesus?"

"Thanks," said Chan-Hie. "That distinction makes a lot of sense to me. I suppose the Council of Nicea dealt chiefly with the first and the Council of Chalcedon with the second."

"You get an A. You probably remember more of this than you thought! In any case, the major debate about the first question was whether the Logos was a creature or was truly God. The Arians said there could be only one God, the creator of all things, and that it demeaned God to suppose that God could take on finite, bodily form. They did not intend to belittle the Logos. On the contrary they held that God had created the Logos first, before creating the world, both as the agent of creation and as the agent of redemption. But still, the Logos was a creature. Athanasius and his followers objected that the Logos was truly God, not a creature. Since John distinguished the Logos from God as well as saying the Logos is God, they affirmed a distinction within the unity of God, between the Logos and the Father."

"That’s why the doctrine of the Trinity became so important, I guess," said Chan-Hie, "once they brought in the Holy Spirit. If what is incarnate in Jesus is truly God and yet not identical with the Father, there has to be something like a distinction of persons within one substance. And that’s what the Council of Nicea decided."

"It’s a complicated story," Prof. O’Connor replied, "but you’re on the right track. The debate about the relation of the Logos to the human in Jesus was somewhat different. After Arianism was finally overcome everyone agreed that the divine element in Jesus was truly God. But how could one conceive of a human being as containing God? I offer my students two basic images that sometimes help them see what was going on in the debates. Some Christians thought of the Logos as assuming humanity. Some thought that the Logos dwelt in a human being."

"Frankly," Chan-Hie commented, "I don’t see much difference."

"It’s hard to say whether there has to be much difference in the way those images work out, but in fact there was enough to create a lot of controversy. Those who thought of the Logos assuming humanity usually thought that what was most fundamental in Jesus was truly God and not human. God took on human form and characteristics, but Jesus was not in any full sense a human being. Chalcedon was responding to people who thought that way and who said that Jesus’ nature was not human -- only divine. These people said Jesus had only one nature -- a divine one. In Greek that makes them Monophysites. Those people thought that to acknowledge a human nature in Jesus would undercut his deity."

"So Chalcedon’s main point was not to affirm Jesus’ deity but to affirm his humanity!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Yes, that’s true, but of course it also affirmed, or reaffirmed, his deity. It had to satisfy those who thought that Nestorius had wrongly denied Jesus’ deity."

"What was Nestorius’s position?" Chan-Hie asked.

"Nestorius came from the side of those who thought of the Logos as dwelling in Jesus. They thought Jesus was truly a human being, human in every respect. The difference between Jesus and others was that God chose to dwell in Jesus fully. Thus Jesus had divine authority and was worthy of our worship as our Lord and Savior."

"What was wrong with that?" Chan-Hie asked.

"Frankly, I don’t think anything was wrong. But much of the piety of the day expressed itself in ways that Nestorius didn’t like. For example, people prayed to Mary as the Mother of God. Nestorius didn’t like that language. God, who is eternal, cannot have a mother. Mary was the mother of the human being in whom God chose to dwell with fullness. That human being is Christ. So Nestorius taught the people to speak of Mary as the Mother of Christ. I would guess that you, as Protestants, are more comfortable with that, aren’t you?"

She was right about that, and Thomas was trying to ransack his memory to recall what it was that he had been taught was wrong with Nestorius.

"But for people who thought of the Logos as assuming human form in Mary’s womb, calling her Mother of God seemed proper. To them Nestorius’s objections indicated that he was denying Jesus’ deity. And long before the Council of Chalcedon they had him banished and his ideas rejected. In order to make sure that Nestorians were not allowed back in, Chalcedon stuck in a phrase about Mary the Mother of God even though otherwise it opposed those who had taken the lead in banishing Nestorius."

Thomas was both fascinated and troubled. Chalcedon no longer seemed like such a firm basis for one’s faith. "So you’re saying that the Chalcedonian Creed was a kind of compromise between the two ways of thinking, what you call the two images?"

"Yes, and the compromise worked for a good many people," Prof. O’Connor continued. It excluded on both sides those who had the most consistent ideas or images. It leaves us with a paradox or a mystery that has baffled the faithful. It has contributed to an idea of faith as acceptance on authority of what cannot be understood by the mind. I don’t much like that. But still it has set some boundaries within which the discussion could go on."

"Then you do agree with me that it sets boundaries," said Thomas.

"Well, I agree with you that it has set boundaries," Prof. O’Connor replied. "But I’m not saying that setting boundaries is altogether a good thing. In recent centuries a lot of Protestant thinkers have ignored those boundaries. When I read recent confessions and creeds of some of the more liberal Protestant denominations today, I’m not sure they are very close to Chalcedon. And I’m glad for all of that. I think ancient formulations are important, that we should pay a lot of attention to them. But I don’t think any pronouncement settles issues forever."

Thomas felt a bit giddy. Every time he thought he could nail something down, it came loose again. He saw that she was taking much further the direction on which he was already embarked: holding herself to the traditional teaching but calling for openness for others to explore in whatever direction they were called. But surely she couldn’t be open to all ideas whatsoever! Surely some proposals must be entirely beyond the pale. "But we do have to have some kind of boundaries, don’t we? You’re not going to accept Nazi Christianity as a legitimate exploration, are you?"

"That’s a tough one," Prof. O’Connor admitted. "I hope that if I had been a Christian in Nazi Germany I would have resisted the Nazi influence. But I’m not sure that I really would have. And I’m also not sure that holding fast to Chalcedonian orthodoxy would have helped very much. Actually teaching that Jesus is truly God has led to a lot of anti-Jewish teaching, and anti-Jewish practice too. Most of the ideas of the Nazis about the Jews came right out of traditional Christian theology. It was only Hitler’s "final solution" that went clearly beyond the teaching of the church against the Jews. The church had taught that the Jews should be restricted in all sorts of ways -- punished for their stubborn refusal to accept Christian baptism. It was the duty of the state to make them suffer, but they should be kept alive until the last judgment. Hitler just exterminated them. Of course, Hitler’s position is worse, but that doesn’t make me proud of orthodox Christianity!"

Thomas was troubled, but he had to push on. "Does that mean that you don’t set any boundaries at all?"

"In spite of all the evil that has been done by the church, I’m still disposed to trust the community of faithful over the long haul. That means that we should let people think creatively and freely. Eventually the bad ideas will be exposed. Today we’re realizing that we must change those Christian teachings that led to the Holocaust. We’re searching around in our heritage for other ways of understanding what it means to be Christian, ways that don’t imply that the Jews are Christ-killers and that they have lost their covenant with God by rejecting Jesus. If everyone had been held tightly to orthodoxy during the past centuries, we might not find much to draw on. I’m disposed to let time decide."

Thomas could not accept that. He needed criteria now. "But surely today there are theologies you reject and reject strongly."

"Indeed, Thomas. But to reject them and to want them silenced by church authority are two quite different matters. I want to be free to argue my case against them vigorously. But I want them to be free to talk back. I may even have to change my mind. Ideas that I now object to strongly may prove convincing to our grandchildren. They may be just the ideas our descendants will need in order to deal with their new situation. Remember, the ideas of the early prophets were rejected in their time, but later they provided the basis for the Jewish people to rebuild their faith after the Babylonian captivity."

Thomas found it strange that what he had been taught were Protestant views were coming to him from a Roman Catholic. "But what’s the point of church doctrine if everything is always up for grabs?"

"That’s a very reasonable response to my one-sided emphasis, isn’t it?" Prof. O’Connor answered. "I’m probably reacting too strongly against the new authoritarianism of the Vatican. I owe my own enthusiasm for the church to the vitality and freedom I felt in the late sixties in the aftermath of the Second Vatican Council, when Pope John XXIII threw the windows of the church open to the best thought of the modern world. But Vatican II is a good example of the value of official church teaching. It now functions to restrain the reactionaries somewhat. I certainly don’t want to knock that!"

"But even Vatican II didn’t raise questions about the Christological creeds," Chan-Hie pointed out. "How can you as a Catholic be open to ideas that oppose those."

"We Catholics have always had more doctrinal freedom than you Protestants have recognized," Prof. O’Connor protested laughingly. "We see that it is the whole church that corporately grows in the understanding of the truth. Wherever we find the whole church has expressed its shared understanding, we treat what is said as authoritative. As Thomas pointed out, the Christological creeds come close to an ecumenical consensus. That gives them a lot of authority.

"After the Protestant Reformation and the subsequent Roman Catholic Council at Trent, Catholics tended to narrow their view of the church to just the Roman Catholic church and leave it to the pope to tell them what the consensus is. That was not the true Catholic spirit. John XXIII threw open the windows. We recognized that there are lots of good Christians whose thinking had not had to kowtow to Vatican authority, that we could learn from them. Some of the most interesting work on Christology has gone back behind the creeds to the New Testament. What it finds there may or may not fit with the later creeds. Maybe we should stick with the creeds. Maybe we should go back to the New Testament and follow the leads we get there wherever they take us. Who can say? I want enough freedom for both to be tried by believing Christians. Generations can discuss and live with the results. I trust that process. Somehow God works through it. New consensus will emerge out of open discussion. Drawing boundaries and enforcing silence only slows the process.

For the first time Thomas began to feel some positive excitement about this different way of thinking of Christian doctrine. But it was also disturbing -- frightening really. It meant living without any solid ground under your feet. The image he had was of finding himself in a stream, not knowing where it was taking him. In that stream one could no longer settle disputes by appeal to orthodoxy. The question would always be one of the merits of every view. But who could decide that? Wouldn’t the fragmentation and individualism of Protestantism just get worse? Maybe the Catholics had a sense of the church that could hold them together. But it had always been hard for Protestants who disagreed about doctrine to work and worship together very long.

Chan-Hie was talking. "I really like that. For me Jesus is at the center of my faith, but I haven’t wanted to commit myself to any doctrine about him. I like the idea of openness to lots of teachings, testing them practically in the ongoing life of the church."

Thomas yielded somewhat. "I guess I may be too insistent that a Christian has to make central some traditional doctrine about Jesus. If Jesus himself is central for people, I suppose they should be free to consider various doctrines about him. But I don’t see how one can avoid holding that there was something special about his relation to God. Even with all the openness it seems to me Chaplain Levovsky goes too far."

"Maybe you should talk with her again," Prof. O’Connor suggested. "Maybe she really doesn’t deny that there was something special about Jesus’ relation to God. You noticed that a lot of what I said was in reaction to the tightening of the reigns in my own church. I seem to see something like that in Protestant denominations, too. I suspect that she is reacting against what still seems to her to be the mumbo-jumbo of orthodoxy. When she’s not feeling pressured to use that language, she’ll probably talk more positively about Jesus."

That made sense to Thomas, and he agreed to talk with the chaplain again. Chan-Hie wanted to join him. "You’ve been more than generous with your time, Prof. O’Connor," he said. "I can see why your students appreciate your teaching so much. Thanks a lot."

Chapter 4: The Campus Cafeteria — Wednesday Noon

It’s good to see you again, Chan-Hie. How’s your work going?"

"The short answer is ‘fine,’" Chan-Hie replied. "If you want the truth, it will take all afternoon to tell you. How is it with yours?"

"Mixed," said Thomas. "Really, I’m enjoying it, and Chaplain Levovsky has been very helpful. But her sermons bother me. That’s what I especially wanted to talk with you about."

"She is very liberal, isn’t she?" was Chan-Hie’s response. "Some of the Christian Korean students say she’s not a Christian at all. They go to Intervarsity meetings and stay away from the chapel."

"How do you feel about her yourself?"

"I appreciate her position. So much of Christianity is doctrinaire. I find it oppressive. It seems to negate and exclude all the traditional values of Korean culture. In seminary I began to find the freedom to think for myself. Some of my professors encouraged me to be proud of my Korean cultural and religious heritage. They introduced me to some theologians who are rethinking Christian theology in terms of the Korean experience. It’s heady stuff. I really don’t know where it will lead. But I want to be free to explore it and to bring other Koreans into the exploration. Chaplain Levovsky has encouraged me."

"But can’t you do all that without sacrificing belief in Jesus’ divinity and in the universal power of his atonement?"

"I just don’t know. Right now I feel freer and more honest to bracket those issues, to begin with the experience of the Korean people, and to see how Jesus is good news for them."

"How does that work out?" Thomas wanted to know.

"I don’t have a lot of answers," Chan-Hie admitted. "But one thing that has meant a lot to me is to believe that God is like Jesus. That doesn’t contradict a lot of our Korean religious beliefs, but it does help to sort them out. It also helps to sort out the beliefs Christian missionaries have brought to Korea. Sometimes Christian preachers there talk about God’s tender and patient love. Then God seems very Christlike. Sometimes they talk about God’s wrathful judgment in ways that I don’t find revealed in Jesus at all. Anyway, Chaplain Levovsky suggested this to me, and I like it."

"I can see that up to a point," Thomas agreed. "If God is revealed in Jesus, then God must be like Jesus. But doesn’t that have to mean that God is incarnate in him. If Jesus is just one man among others, why select him as the standard for judging what God is like?"

"You may well be right," said Chan-Hie. "I really have no objection to drawing that conclusion. But so many people who begin with Jesus’ deity end up talking about things that don’t make sense to me -- about how he descended from heaven and why he gave up his equality with God. My point is only that I want to start somewhere else and see what happens. So far, I like what is happening."

"But doesn’t that put Christian faith itself up for grabs? Maybe your explorations will lead you far away from Christian teaching. To me it sounds very dangerous indeed!"

"A good many of the Korean students here agree with you. I’ve already told you that. There’s another group, though, who feel as I do. They’re excited about what we’re doing together. To us it feels very Christian. Indeed, it feels more Christian than just accepting what we’re told to believe when it doesn’t fit with our experience. But of course those feelings don’t prove anything."

Thomas was intrigued. "What do you mean by saying ‘it feels Christian’? I’ve always thought that whether something is Christian can be decided objectively by comparing it with the official teaching of the church. I doubt that feeling is a safe guide."

Chan-Hie agreed. "But I’m not sure orthodoxy is either. Some pretty horrible things have been done for the sake of doctrinal correctness."

"But at least," Thomas continued, "there has to be some center, and I don’t see how for Christians that can be anything other than Jesus."

"I agree with you there!" Chan-Hie replied. "For me what has been attractive about Christianity has always been the gospel stories. I was taught to love Jesus in Sunday school, and the lessons took. That may be why I am so sure that God is like Jesus."

Thomas was not satisfied. "It seems to me that Christians are those who say Jesus was divine -- human, of course, but not only that. He was completely unique, the one human being in whom God was incarnate. If not, isn’t our continual preoccupation with this one human being inappropriate, even silly?"

"You’ve got me there," Chan-Hie admitted. "I know what I feel, that it’s not so important how we think about Jesus as long as we follow him. But what you say makes sense, too. Why don’t we talk with someone else about this. I’ve heard that Doris O’Connor of the religion department is a committed Christian and a fine scholar."

"But isn’t she a Roman Catholic?" asked Thomas.

"I think so, but that doesn’t mean she can’t help us, does it?"

"I guess not," Thomas answered, a little embarrassed. "I’ll call her right now."

Chapter 3: At Home — Tuesday Noon

Thomas had a simple lunch ready when Mary came home. They were both pleased that their campus jobs enabled them to eat lunch together several days each week. But when Mary saw Thomas she knew the conversation with the chaplain had not gone well. Thomas would need to de-brief with her, as they liked to call it. As soon as he had said grace, she asked him to tell her what Chaplain Levovsky had said.

"She told me how she became a Christian," Thomas replied. "I was really moved by her story. I like her more than ever."

"But you don’t seem very happy about it! What did she say about the deity of Jesus?"

"Well, she didn’t say so in so many words, but the truth is she doesn’t believe in it at all. What I thought I heard her saying in those sermons is what she really means! She wants to free us from all the traditional beliefs."

It was Mary’s turn to be shocked, really shocked. "But how could she be ordained to preach if she doesn’t believe the church’s teaching? And how could the seminary approve her as your supervisor for this intern year? You must have misunderstood her."

"No," Thomas said sadly. "I’m quite sure I didn’t misunderstand. She went to the most liberal seminary of our denomination. And I realize now that some of what I have read and heard in my seminary is more like what she said than I had taken in before. I’ve just been assuming that everybody really believed the way I did and ignoring the threatening ideas. Chaplain Levovsky states them so directly I can’t ignore them."

Thomas’s reply was far from reassuring. To Mary what it meant to be Christian was quite clear. It involved a certain way of life and definite beliefs. On unimportant matters Christians could argue if they chose, but on essentials there must be full agreement. Otherwise how could they worship and work together? She did not go around hunting for heresy. Far from it. To all who called themselves Christian she attributed the beliefs that went with being Christian. But here was Thomas reporting that a respected pastor did not accept the core beliefs of the Christian faith. And worse yet, Mary feared, Thomas himself seemed shaken! A chaplain-supervisor had no business undermining the faith of interns.

"You’re in a difficult position, honey. But you will let the seminary officials know, won’t you? They won’t want their students supervised by a chaplain who is not a believer. If it’s really as you say, I hope you can get reassigned quickly."

Thomas suddenly regretted having told Mary what the chaplain had said, or at least of having put it so strongly. Mary was so decisive! That was part of what he liked about her. He often found it hard to make decisions himself, and he needed her clarity -- the way she came to the point at once. Without her he doubted he could have ever finally decided for the ministry. She hadn’t pushed him. She had just listened to him and helped him see that that was what he felt called to do. Once he was clear about that, she helped him brush aside all objections and quickly apply to seminary.

But this time she was moving ahead of him and in a direction he dreaded. She was assuming that he believed just as she did. Why shouldn’t she? He had shared a lot of what he learned in seminary, but not in a way that would let her know what was really happening to him. That was partly because he wasn’t sure himself, and it was hard to put into words. But it was also because he knew it would upset her.

What was happening? Looking back he could just begin to describe it to himself. The study of the Bible and the history of the church made everything about Christianity seem less fixed. For example, he still believed in the Virgin Birth, but when his New Testament professor pointed out that the genealogies in both Matthew and Luke seemed to assume that Jesus’ descent was through Joseph and that the doctrine of Mary’s virginity played no role in Paul’s letters, he found it harder to suppose that this belief was essential to Christianity. He had come to accept the idea that Jesus’ divinity was not dependent on Mary’s virginity, although he himself continued to affirm the Virgin Birth. But he had not told Mary of his changing attitude. After all, he had not changed his own belief; so there had not seemed to be anything to tell.

He saw now that this softening process had gone farther than he had realized. It had become harder and harder to draw clear boundaries. Confronted by Chaplain Levovsky’s story, he was confused. Could that, too, be Christian? Part of him wanted to say, "Yes!" But Mary didn’t share that part of him and would not understand it -- at least not right away.

"I don’t know what to do, darling," Thomas finally said. "I don’t feel right about reporting officially what she told me in private. And I am confused. Maybe there is room in the church for people like her. I’ve found a number of students here who respond well to her and say they’ve never been able to make sense of Christianity before. At least it’s a place to start -- a point of contact."

"How could the denial of Jesus’ deity be a point of contact for the gospel?" Mary replied sharply. To her this made no sense at all. But she saw that he was not ready to act and that it would do no good to push him. "Why don’t you talk it over with Chan-Hie?"

Chan-Hie Park was the other intern working with Chaplain Levovsky that year. He came from another seminary, he was single, and he had a quite different role on campus, working especially with international students. Mary and Thomas were not yet well acquainted with him, but they respected what they had seen of his work. Thomas thought Mary’s advice was good.

Chapter 2: The Chaplain’s Office — Tuesday Morning

"Come in, Thomas," called Janet Levovsky, "how are things going with you and Mary?"

"Thanks, we’re comfortably settled, and we both like our jobs."

"You seemed troubled when you called yesterday to ask for an appointment. I was afraid something had gone wrong."

It was hard for Thomas to say what was bothering him. He had never raised this kind of question with a professor. As his supervisor, he felt toward her in much the same way. He didn’t want to seem to be critical. But the chaplain was waiting. "I really liked yesterday’s sermon. It’s always a treat to hear you preach. You come through as yourself and what you say comes out of your own experience. Maybe it’s for just that reason that I have to take it so seriously."

"That’s good to hear, but I take it that I said something you didn’t like. I really do appreciate your coming to tell me about it. Sometimes I hear about criticisms at second and third hand, and I feel so frustrated. This way I’ll understand better. What was wrong with my sermon?" She knew she was becoming defensive and regretted it.

"I guess what I’m concerned about is not what you do say so much as what you don’t say. Yesterday the point seemed to be how human Jesus was, how much like us. And as I think back over your other sermons, that seems quite consistent with what you’ve said before. I know it’s right to say that Jesus was truly human, of one substance with us in his humanity, but surely that’s only a part of the message. Surely Jesus was divine, too. Isn’t that the main point -- that Jesus was uniquely divine?"

So that was it, thought Janet, another conservative on her hands. Indeed, seminary students seemed to be getting more conservative all the time. Meanwhile, she was becoming less patient with those old problems. There was so much the church needed to be doing for peace, for liberation, for mutual understanding among the peoples and religions! And still these hang-ups on ancient dogma! But this time, at least, the conservative came to talk -- not to snipe at her behind her back. And he seemed really to be asking questions, not giving her an exam for orthodoxy. She resolved to be open with him.

"Thomas, I think I understand what’s bothering you. And all the more I appreciate your coming to talk with me about it. You and I have come to the church by quite different paths, I’m sure, and so we think about our faith quite differently, but I’m confident we can work together, even if we have to agree to disagree on some matters. You’ve picked up bits and pieces about me from earlier conversations and from my sermons, but let me tell you the story of my faith-pilgrimage a little more fully. Then you’ll understand better where I’m coming from."

Both of them began to relax a bit. Chaplain Levovsky was no longer defensive, and Thomas was eager to understand her better.

"I grew up outside organized religion. My parents thought of themselves as agnostics. They ridiculed what they understood to be Christian dogma and led me to wonder how any intelligent person could be a Christian. Occasionally I listened to radio and TV preachers, and that only confirmed in me my parents’ rejection of faith."

"Some of that media stuff is pretty bad," Thomas agreed.

"That’s what I thought," Janet responded, eager to underscore any agreement. She continued, "The only thing that cut against this attitude was my fondness for my father’s sister, Margaret. She didn’t talk much about it, but I knew she was a Christian, and I loved to be with her. Occasionally when I was in high school I would spend a weekend with her. She would ask me whether I wanted to go with her Sunday morning. The first time or two I declined, but later I went with her to her discussion group. What I found there had nothing to do with the strange ideas about how three persons were one God or about Armageddon or miracles. Instead, I found a group of caring and sensitive adults who were interested in me in a way I had never experienced before. I felt that I could tell them what I really thought, and off-the-wall as some of those ideas were, they took them seriously. They thought of themselves as a group of seekers for spiritual truth supporting one another along the way."

Thomas remembered a college group he had been in that had some of that feel. But he had been a little too sure of his beliefs to be quite at home there. For the first time, he felt a pang of regret.

"That group talked about all kinds of things," Chaplain Levovsky continued, "much of it not specifically Christian. But sometimes they stopped to pray, thanking God for being with them or asking God’s special blessing on one of their members. I had no idea what they meant by ‘God,’ but what they did seemed genuine."

Thomas noticed that there were tears in the chaplain’s eyes. Clearly these were very precious memories.

"My aunt became sick, and after a long illness she died. During her illness we went as a family to visit her every few weeks, and between times my parents let me go alone. Even in her pain and weakness she was for me a tower of strength. I would ask her sometimes about God and about Jesus. Her answers were very simple, naive, I suppose, but they redirected my life. When I think of Christ I think of Aunt Margaret.

"My parents were astonished at the new course my life took -- most of all when I told them I wanted to go to seminary. But they prided themselves on their tolerance, and they were relieved that I didn’t go in for what they considered the hocus-pocus and absurdities of the Christianity they had known. They haven’t become Christians themselves, but they don’t object much to my variety of faith. We get along well together."

"So the deity of Jesus and the atonement and the resurrection haven’t been important to you?" Thomas asked.

"I’m afraid my position is more extreme than that, Thomas. I think they are important, but they seem more like important obstacles that prevent people from following Jesus than like important aspects of faith itself."

Thomas was moved but he was even more troubled than when he first came in. "But then what do you believe?" he cried.

"I believe lots of things, Thomas," she replied gently. "I believe that the spirit I found in my aunt’s discussion group back in my high school days was the Holy Spirit, and I try to serve that Spirit always. I’ve learned how closely the community that grew up around Jesus and especially after he was no longer with the disciples is bound up with that Spirit. And I’ve learned that that Spirit is truly God with us. I have learned to call that Spirit Christ."

"Is that all?" Thomas blurted out.

Chaplain Levovsky was hurt; she had thought that Thomas was following her with more understanding. But she checked her renewed feelings of defensiveness. She could see that Thomas was genuinely troubled and needed time and help to assimilate what she was saying. "That’s a great deal," she answered. "If you had ever experienced the thought world and the feeling world of unbelief in which I grew up, you would see how very important those beliefs are. I have known redemption through that Christ, and I try to help others find it as well. For me nothing is more important than that."

It seemed there was not much more to say. What for her was an obstacle to faith was for him its very content. In terms of all he believed, she was no Christian. Yet sitting there, hearing her story, he felt the genuineness of her faith. Could there be more than one way to being Christian? Could one who did not believe in Jesus’ deity still be a believer? "Thank you," he said, "for sharing with me. I admit I’m very confused. I’ll have to think about it. May I come again if I have more questions later on?"

"Of course," she said. But as she let him out she felt the return of a deep sadness. Sometimes she wondered whether the Spirit from whom and for whom she lived was different, after all, from the Spirit of whom the Scriptures witness. Maybe those who attacked her were right. Maybe Christianity was what her parents rejected rather than what her aunt had lived and taught her to love.

Chapter 1: After Church — Sunday Morning

Thomas Atherton was shaken. His life had always proceeded in an orderly way. He had made decisions carefully, and once he made them, he carried through despite setbacks and obstacles. But this time. . . .

He had made the decision as carefully and thoughtfully as usual. He and his wife, Mary, had prayed about it. This position as chaplain’s assistant at the regional university of his denomination had seemed an ideal way to meet the requirement for an internship during his seminary career. He had met Janet Levovsky, the chaplain, and he had liked her. She was warm and caring and generous with her time. His first month as a chaplain-intern had been rewarding.

But listening to her sermon this Sunday morning had confirmed a growing suspicion. Chaplain Levovsky was not a believing Christian! Hard as it was to see how this could be true, the denomination had placed in this important position a minister who did not believe that Jesus was the Son of God. How could he do his internship under a supervisor who was not really a Christian at all? Would he have to ask for a new assignment? What a pain and hassle that would be! Would the seminary agree with his reasons? Was it already too late?

Thomas felt anger rising in him against the chaplain, but also against Prof. Smith, who handled placements at the seminary, and against the church and the university, too. It wasn’t fair to put a seminary student in such a position. And even worse, it was simply wrong to have the church represented on the university campus by such a person! But feeling the anger upset him all the more. It wasn’t right to be angry, especially not in church. The anger blotted out the love he knew he ought to feel even for those who had put him in this dilemma.

Mary noticed Thomas’s agitation. When the benediction had been pronounced she asked, "What’s the matter, Tom?"

Thomas started to brush off the question with an "Oh, nothing really!" but he thought better of it. He had relied on Mary’s understanding and counsel ever since they married after the junior year of college. Indeed, he depended on her in a lot of ways. They had struggled through the last year of college together, but he didn’t know how he could have gone to seminary at all if she hadn’t taken a full-time job as a secretary. This year, too, she was the chief breadwinner. He tried to help out at home, but she was the chief cook and housekeeper, too. And still she was interested in his studies and in what he thought! He thanked God daily for leading him to her.

Even so, he rarely talked with her about problems and uncertainties of a purely theological sort, partly because he loved her serene faith and didn’t want to disturb it. Partly, also, the problems didn’t seem very important. They would work themselves out, he felt sure, in the course of his studies. But this time, he realized, he was more upset than usual. He needed Mary’s reassurance and counsel.

"That sermon bothered me," he answered. "It sounded as though Jesus were just another person very much like us, as if he were a child of God in just the same sense that we are. I don’t see how a Christian preacher can talk like that!"

"I guess there was a lot of emphasis on how human Jesus was," Mary agreed, "but I don’t see why that should upset you. No preacher can say everything every Sunday. When I was growing up my Sunday school teachers often pictured Jesus as a very nice teacher who loved little children. But I’m sure they believed in his divinity. Maybe next Sunday Chaplain Levovsky will preach on Jesus’ divinity."

"But we’ve been listening to her sermons ever since we came here for my internship five weeks ago," Thomas complained, "and I never hear anything about Jesus’ divinity. I’m not at all sure she believes in it. I don’t see how I can go on working under her if she’s not even a Christian!"

By this time they had slipped out the side door to avoid speaking to Chaplain Levovsky and were well on their way home. Mary felt sure that Thomas was wrong. She was confident that all ministers believed in the divinity of Jesus. She had heard enough talk among the students at the seminary to know that they went through a lot of confusion and doubts as they studied the many different theologies. Some students, she thought, went too far -- really left the Christian fold. But she was sure that most of them would get straightened out before they graduated. The others would drop out or, if they sought ordination, would be refused by the church. To be an ordained minister in a mainstream denomination certainly must mean that one is an orthodox believer! Finally she said, "Why don’t you talk with her about it? I’m sure you’ll feel better."

Suggestions for Further Reading

Barnes, Gilbert Hobbs, The Anti-Slavery Impulse 183 -1844. D. Appleton-Century Company, Inc., 1933.

Billington, Ray Allen, The Protestant Crusade 1800-1860. Rinehart & Company, Inc., 1938.

Braden, Charles Samuel, These Also Believe. The Macmillan Company, 1950.

Carter, Paul A., The Decline and Revival of the Social Gospel. Cornell University Press, 1956.

Clark, Elmer T., The Small Sects in America. Cokesbury Press, 1937.

Cross, Whitney R., The Burned-Over District. Cornell University Press, 1950.

Ellis, John Tracy, American Catholicism. The University of Chicago Press, 1956.

-----------, Documents of American Catholic History. Bruce Publishing Company, 2d. ed., 1962.

Furniss, Norman F., The Fundamentalist Controversy 1918-1931. Yale University Press, 1954.

Gaustad, Edwin Scott, The Great Awakening in New England. Harper & Brothers, 1957.

Glazer, Nathan, American Judaism. The University of Chicago Press, 1957.

Goodykoontz, Colin Brummitt, Home Missions on the American Frontier. Caldwell, Idaho: Caxton Printers, Ltd., 1939.

Koch, Adrienne, The American Enlightenment. George Braziller, Inc., 1965.

Koch, G. Adolf, Republican Religion. Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 1933.

Latourette, Kenneth Scott, The Great Century (A History of the Expansion of Christianity, Vol. IV). Harper & Brothers, 1941.

McLoughlin, William O., Jr., Modern Revivalism. The Ronald Press Co., 1959.

Marty, Martin E., The New Shape of American Religion. Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 1959.

Maxson, Charles Hartshorn, The Great Awakening in the Middle Colonies. The University of Chicago Press, 1920.

May, Henry F., Protestant Churches and Industrial America. Harper & Brothers, 1949.

Mead, Sidney E., The Lively Experiment. Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 1963.

Miller, Perry, The New England Mind: From Colony to Province. Harvard University Press, 1953.

Niebuhr, H. Richard, The Kingdom of God in America. Willett, Clark & Company, 1937.

-----------, The Social Sources of Denominationalism. Henry Holt & Company, Inc., 1929.

Simpson, Alan, Puritanism in Old and New England. The University of Chicago Press, 1955.

Smith, H. Shelton, Handy, Robert T., Loetscher, Lefferts A., American Christianity. 2 vols. Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1960, 1963.

Smith, Timothy L., Revivalism and Social Reform. Abingdon Press, 1957.

Stokes, Anson Phelps, and Pfeffer, Leo, Church and State in the United States. Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 1964.

Sweet, William Warren, Revivalism in America. Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1945.

Tillich, Paul, The Protestant Era. The University of Chicago Press, 1951.

Tyler, Alice Felt, Freedom’s Ferment. University of Minnesota Press, 1944.

Weatherford, W. D., American Churches and the Negro. Christopher Publishing House, 1957.

Weisberger, Bernard A., They Gathered at the River. Little, Brown and Company, 1958.

Suggestions For Further Reading

CHAPTER I

H. Shelton Smith, Robert T. Handy, and Lefferts A. Loetscher, American Christianity, Vol. I, pp. 20-35, 41-65, 82-114, 123-126.

John Tracy Ellis, American Catholicism, pp. 1-39.

John Tracy Ellis, Documents of American Catholic History, 2d. ed., pp. 1-93.

H. Richard Niebuhr, The Kingdom of God in America, pp. 17-44.

Alan Simpson, Puritanism in Old and New England, pp. 1-60.

CHAPTER 2

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 35-40, 114-123, 126-140, 143-183, 197-229, 231-271.

Ellis, American Catholicism, pp. 1-39.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 95-124.

Nathan Glazer, American Judaism, pp. 1-21.

Sidney E. Mead, The Lively Experiment, pp. 16-27.

Perry Miller, The New England Mind: From Colony to Province, pp. 19-26, 82-104, 173-190, 367-384, 481-485.

Niebuhr, Kingdom of God in America, pp. 45-126, 164-198.

CHAPTER 3

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 276-292, 295-297, 310- 371, 398-407.

Edwin Scott Gaustad, The Great Awakening in New England, pp. 102-140.

Charles Hartshorn Maxson, The Great Awakening in the Middle Colonies, pp. 139-151.

Mead, pp. 27-37.

Miller, pp. 105-118.

Niebuhr, Kingdom of God in America, pp. 88-163.

CHAPTER 4

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 374-414, 419-442, 448-450.

Ellis, American Catholicism, pp. 40-81.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 124-141.

Mead, pp. 38-54.

CHAPTER 5

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 442-448, 450-459, 465-475.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 142-197.

Mead, pp. 55-71.

Glazer, pp. 43-59.

H. Richard Niebuhr, Social Sources of Denominationalism, pp. 54-76.

Anson Phelps Stokes and Leo Pfeffer, Church and State in the United States, pp. 3-82.

CHAPTER 6

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 481-516, 545-547, 559-576.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 197-325, 329-342, 405-408.

Mead, pp. 90-133.

Niebuhr, Social Sources of Denominationalism, pp. 3-25.

CHAPTER 7

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 519-545; Vol. II, pp. 10-28, 42-48.

Whitney R. Cross, The Burned-Over District, pp. 1-51, 353-357.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 269-272.

William G. McLoughlin, Jr., Modern Revivalism, pp. 3-11.

Timothy L. Smith, Revivalism and Social Reform, pp. 45-62, 225-237.

CHAPTER 8

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 576-586; Vol. II, pp. 28-36, 66-79, 92-105, 108-112.

Ray Allen Billington, The Protestant Crusade 1800-1860, pp. 1-25.

Adrienne Koch, The American Enlightenment, pp. 19-48.

G. Adolf Koch, Republican Religion, pp. 3-27, 285-298.

CHAPTER 9

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. 1, pp. 547-577; Vol. II, pp. 48- 58, 88-92.

Cohn Brummitt Goodykoontz, Home Missions on the American Frontier, pp. 15-39, 406-427.

Kenneth Scott Latourette, The Great Century (A History of the Expansion of Christianity, Vol. IV), pp. 175-462.

CHAPTER 10

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 273-276, 586-596; Vol. II, pp. 80-84, 119-164.

Niebuhr, Kingdom of God in America, pp. 164-198.

Alice Felt Tyler, Freedom’s Ferment, pp. 47-224.

CHAPTER 11

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. I, pp. 292-295; Vol. II, pp. 167-210.

Gilbert Hobbs Barnes, The Anti-Slavery Impulse 1830 -1844.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 322-329.

Niebuhr, Social Sources of Denominationalism, pp. 187-199.

Smith, Revivalism and Social Reform, pp. 178-224.

CHAPTER 12

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. II, pp. 215-221, 270-275.

Ellis, American Catholicism, pp. 82-121.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 342-383.

Glazer, pp. 60-78, 151-152.

Mead, pp. 72-89.

W. D. Weatherford, American Churches and the Negro.

CHAPTER 13

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. II, pp. 36-41, 320-324.

McLoughlin, pp. 523-530.

William Warren Sweet, Revivalism in America, pp. 162-182.

Bernard A. Weisberger, They Gathered at the River, pp. 175-265.

CHAPTER 14

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. II, pp. 215-253, 255-270, 276-282, 290-306, 309-317, 324-332.

Charles Samuel Braden, These Also Believe.

Elmer T. Clark, The Small Sects in America, pp. 7-29.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 385-391, 490-507, 533-545.

Norman F. Furniss, The Fundamentalist Controversy 1918 - 1931, pp. 14-45.

Mead, pp. 134-156, 168-175, 183-187.

CHAPTER 15

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. II, pp. 282-290, 359-394, 401-414.

Paul A. Carter, The Decline and Revival of the Social Gospel, pp. 3-28.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 391-393, 428-437, 440-459, 485-490, 507-509, 561-564, 585-617, 621-625, 642-654.

Henry F. May, Protestant Churches and Industrial America, pp. 263-265.

Mead, pp. 156-168, 175-183.

Smith, Revivalism and Social Reform, pp. 148-162.

CHAPTER 16

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. II, pp. 345-356, 394-401.

Ellis, American Catholicism, pp. 124-159.

Glazer, pp. 79-105.

Carter, pp. 31-45.

CHAPTER 17

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. II, pp. 332-336, 419-443, 505-536, 563-585.

Ellis, American Catholicism, pp. 122-159.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 620-621.

Carter, pp. 220-231.

Glazer, pp. 106-149.

Weisberger, pp. 266-274.

Paul Tillich, The Protestant Era, pp. 261-269.

CHAPTER 18

Smith, Handy, Loetscher, Vol. II, pp. 443 -502, 536-562, 585-611.

Ellis, Documents, pp. 617-620, 642-654.

Martin E. Marty, The New Shape of American Religion, pp. 1-8.

Stokes and Pfeffer, pp. 351-446.

Sources

The purpose of this section is to list in consecutive order the titles from which quotations were taken. For those wishing a fully documented and detailed history of Christianity in America, the following works of Professor William Warren Sweet are indispensable: The Story of Religion in America, 2d rev. ed. (Harper & Brothers, 1950); Religion in Colonial America (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1942); Religion in the Development of American Culture (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1952). These three volumes have full bibliographies covering every phase of religion in America. Other indispensable tools are: H. Shelton Smith, Robert T. Handy, and Lefferts A. Loetscher, American Christianity (Charles Scribner’s Sons, Vol. I, 1960; Vol. II, 1963); Sidney E. Mead, The Lively Experiment (Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 1963); and Edwin Scott Gaustad, Historical Atlas of Religion in America (Harper & Row, Publishers, Inc., 1962). The indispensable bibliographical source is Nelson R. Burr, A Critical Bibliography of Religion in America (Princeton University Press, 2 vols., 1961). Also, a good deal of bibliographical material is available in Professor Kenneth Scott Latourette’s A History of the Expansion of Christianity, Vols. IV and VII (Harper & Brothers, 1941 and 1945).

CHAPTER I

Ashton, Robert, ed., The Works of John Robinson, Vol. I. London, John Snow, 1851. The account of Robinson’s parting advice was reported by John Winslow, and there is no extant copy of the sermon; therefore, this book paraphrases the message as reported by Winslow in Ashton’s edition of Robinson’s works.

Miller, Perry, and Johnson, T. H., The Puritans. American Book Company, 1938.

CHAPTER 2

Adams, Charles F., Antinomianism in the Colony of Massachusetts Bay, 1636 - 1638, Vol. 21. Boston, Publications of the Prince Society, 1894.

CHAPTER 3

Tennent, Gilbert, The Danger of an Unconverted Ministry. 1740.

CHAPTER 4

Mayhew, Jonathan, Election Day Sermon, 1754.

Morill, Isaac, Sermon at Wilmington, April 3, 1755. Quoted in Baldwin, Alice, The New England Clergy and the American Revolution. Duke University Press, 1928.

Cleaveland, John, Letters to the Essex Gazette, April 18 and 25, 1775.

Quoted in Baldwin, Alice, op. cit., Appendix A. Lathrop, J., A Sermon Preached to the Ancient and Honorable Artillery-Company in Boston. Boston, 1774.

CHAPTER 5

Penn, William, quoted in Stokes, Anson Phelps, Church and State in America, Vol. I. Harper & Brothers, 1950.

Van Doren, Carl, ed., The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Pocket Books, Inc., 1940.

Stokes, Anson Phelps, op. cit.

Blau, Joseph L., Cornerstones of Religious Freedom in America. The Beacon Press, 1949.

CHAPTER 6

Peach, A. W., Selections from the Works of Thomas Paine. Harcourt, Brace & Company, Inc., 1928.

Crevecouer St. John, J. Hector, Letters from an American Farmer. New York, 1904.

CHAPTER 7

Beecher, Charles, ed., Autobiography and Correspondence of Lyman Beecher, two vols. New York, 1865.

Strickland, W. P., ed., Autobiography of Peter Cartwright. New York, 1857.

Cleveland, C. C., The Great Revival in the West, 1797-1805. Chicago University Press, 1916.

Finney, Charles G., Memoirs. A. S. Barnes & Company, 1876.

CHAPTER 8

Mode, Peter G., Source Book and Bibliographical Guide for American Church History. Menasha, Wis., B. Banta Publishing Co., 1921.

Finney, Charles G., Memoirs.

CHAPTER 9

Cartwright, Peter, Autobiography.

Sturtevant, J. M. Jr., ed., An Autobiography, J. M. Sturtevant, New York, 1896.

Lane, Daniel, Letter to A. H. M. S., July 13, 1843. Quoted in Goodykoontz, Cohn B., Home Missions on the American Frontier. Caxton Printers, 1939.

Beecher, Lyman, A Plea for the West. Truman & Smith, 1836.

Finney, Charles G., Memoirs.

CHAPTER 10

Emerson, Ralph W., An Address Delivered Before the Senior Class in Divinity College, Cambridge, 1838. Boston, American Unitarian Association, 1941.

Sears, Clara Endicott, Days of Delusion. Houghton Muffin Company, 1924.

CHAPTER 11

Quoted in Jenkins, William Sumner, Pro-Slavery Thought in the Old South. University of North Carolina Press, 1935.

CHAPTER 12

Stern, Philip Van Doren, The Life and Writings of Abraham Lincoln. The Modern Library, 1940.

Bushnell, Horace, Christian Nurture. New York, Baker & Scribner, 1861.

CHAPTER 13

Quoted in Day, R. E., Bush Aglow. The Judson Press, 1936. Mott, John R., The Evangelization of the World in This Generation. New York, Student Volunteer Movement, 1901.

CHAPTER 14

Quoted in Roberts, Windsor H., "The Reaction of the American Protestant Churches to the Darwinian Philosophy, 1860-1900." Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation at the University of Chicago, March, 1936.

Abbott, Lyman, Reminiscences. Houghton Muffin Company, 1915.

Briggs, Charles A., The Authority of Holy Scripture: an Inaugural Address. Scribner’s, 1891.

Eddy, Mary Baker, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. Boston, Joseph Armstrong, 1907.

CHAPTER 15

Adams, Charles Francis, quoted in Gabriel, Ralph H., The Course of American Democratic Thought. New York, The Ronald Press, 1940.

Bushnell, Horace, Women’s Suffrage; the Reform Against Nature. New York, 1869.

Quoted in May, Henry F., Protestant Churches and Industrial America. Harper & Brothers, 1949.

Baer, quoted in Garrison, W. E., The March of Faith. Harper & Brothers, 1933.

Gladden, Washington, Working People and Their Employers. New York, 1894.

Quoted from Cole, Stewart G., The History of Fundamentalism. New York, Richard R. Smith, Inc., 1931.

CHAPTER 16

Sanford, E., ed., Church Federation. Fleming H. Revell Company, 1906.

Sanford, E., ed., The Federal Council of Churches of Christ in America. Fleming H. Revell Company, 1909.

Quoted in Abrams, Ray H., Preachers Present Arms. Philadelphia, Round Table Press, 1933.

Chapter 18: The Problem of Renewal

At the very height of external success a few prophetic voices were to be heard reminding the Christian community that all was not well in the life of Protestantism. It is common knowledge that external health in an institution is a good thing, but it does not necessarily follow that the institution is essentially sound and strong within. This is particularly true of the Christian Church; for wealth, though necessary to carry on its work, is its greatest temptation. Large numbers of people in the Church are always better than empty churches, but the real question is the intensity of spiritual devotion and of commitment of those within the Churches. Was the Christian message having a genuine impact on the totality of American life? Or were American art, literature, newspapers, television, and radio in any way influenced by Christian insights concerning life? Was there any impact of the Christian vision of life on American politics?

Viewed from this perspective, Christianity was indeed in a doubtful state. The values that determined mid-twentieth-century life in America were at their best only faintly Christian. Many Christian theologians began to speak of the "post-Christian age." They argued that Christianity had reached its maximal external influence on American life during the nineteenth century and that the most recent religious revival of the early 1950’s was, in reality, only a temporary outbreak of a particular kind of vitality that did not deal with the fundamental issues of contemporary life. Christianity was now to be seen as a minority movement within a society and culture that was thoroughly secularized. That is, the Christian faith was no longer the formative influence that shaped the mores and aspirations of the American people. It was but one force among many competing forces that helped to determine and shape American life.

Nobody denied the fact that Protestant institutions were more numerous and larger than ever before in history. It was pointed out that these institutions were really irrelevant. Interestingly enough, this view was shared both by the conservative and by the so-called progressive or liberal theologians in the American scene. Dr. Carl Henry, of Christianity Today, a postwar conservative theological journal, and Professor Martin Marty, of The University of Chicago, found themselves in agreement as to the extent of Christianity’s impact on modern culture. They disagreed, however, on the reason why the situation had come about and what ought to be done by the Christian community within the new situation. The more conservative strain of Protestants called for a return to the "old-fashioned gospel" or a movement of repristination of the basic literal Biblical insights. To be sure, they were now much more sophisticated and more theologically learned. Large numbers of churchmen, theologians, and laymen remained dissatisfied with the idea of repristination or of a more faithful literal reiteration of the Biblical message. They called for reinterpretation in order to promote renewal in the life of the Christian community.

In this situation the theological analysis of Professor Paul Tillich took on special significance for the American context. As a theology professor in Germany, he had raised the prophetic question of the possible end of the Protestant era. After his forcible removal to America in the early 1930’s, it was some years before his impact was felt through the publication of his monumental Systematic Theology and a series of provocative sermons and essays. He exercised greater influence on the American intellectual community than any other theologian in the mid-1950’s and in the 1960’s, and his full impact may yet remain to be made. His call for the reinterpretation of the insights of the gospel into contemporary concepts, his insistence on a true dialectical relationship between man’s basic questions and the deepest insights of the Biblical faith, and his ability to draw from and interrelate vast areas of modern man’s creativity in art, literature, philosophy, psychiatry, and sociology caught the imagination of the American intellectual community. Also, he provided the Christian community with one possible way to deal responsibly and realistically with radical shifts both in the thought patterns and the Institutions of the modern world.

While Paul Tillich was engaged in the task of constructing a new systematic theology for the modern situation, a group of younger theologians arose in the mid-1960’s to proclaim that for many modern men and for the modern human spirit itself the possibility of God is gone forever. They declared, echoing Nietzsche, that God is dead! They argued that this did not mean the end of theology but a fresh beginning for Christian theology. This represented the most radical way of saying that the Christian community must refashion its thoughts and reconstruct its institutions if it is to carry out its role in contemporary life. Old thought patterns and concepts will not suffice for the Space Age. They argued that such concepts are not of the essence of Christianity or necessary for its survival. They were symbolic of the crisis of theological renewal within the Protestant community in America. They felt that they were calling for a reformation as necessary and yet more radical than that of the sixteenth century. At the same time, they felt they stood faithfully within the Christian tradition and, in fact, that they alone prophetically represented that tradition in the 1960’s.

The struggle of the Christian community to adjust itself to the new situation in the American scene is clearly illustrated by the emergence of the Church-State issue in a radical form after World War II. The problem first emerged in special form during the war. The President had appointed a "personal representative" to the Vatican in order to expedite certain matters arising from the war. Most Protestants were very unhappy about this and worked for his recall. They argued that to appoint an official representative to the pope was to give official recognition or preference to one religion above all others. This was against the spirit of the Constitution.

For a short time excitement died down after the representative returned, but in 1951 President Truman proposed to appoint an ambassador to the Vatican. There was such an outburst of indignation and protest from both Protestants and non-Christians that he was forced to abandon the proposal. Yet the issue did not die.

Meanwhile, the real problem was emerging in the field of public education. With the large influx of immigrants from Roman Catholic sections of Europe, the Roman Catholic Church had succeeded in winning many of them into the churches in America. By the late nineteenth century it found itself to be a powerful and large Church. Roman Catholics firmly believed that their children should be instructed in their faith as well as in general educational subjects, and in the 1870’s they started a program of parochial schools. Immediately after the First World War they expanded and speeded up this entire plan.

It was here that the trouble began. They felt that they should have a just share of the taxes that they paid to support public schools. Also, they argued against any prayer or Bible-reading in the public schools unless it was according to their beliefs. The fact was that many state schools had Bible-reading or school prayers at the opening of each school day. Under the constant pressure of Roman Catholics and non-Christians during the nineteenth century, most religious emphasis was gradually forced out of the public schools. Now the Protestants were worried. Does not education that ignores religion tend to influence the pupils to believe that religion is really not important? What then is to be done?

Under these conditions a whole series of problems faced American Protestants. They agreed in the separation of Church and State, but they felt that schools should not be hostile or indifferent to religion. Of one thing they were certain -- public funds should not be used to support parochial schools or sectarian religious training in the public schools. Thus the problem was twofold.

Many Protestants were suspicious not only of direct aid to parochial schools but also of any indirect aid such as providing pupils with transportation or textbooks. Some states argued that it was wrong; others, that it was right. Some Protestants claimed that public schools were just as available as public beaches for all, and if any wished to use private beaches or private schools, they had to pay their own way. In fact, large numbers of Protestants agreed with strict secularists that even Horace Mann’s ideal of training in basic Christian beliefs in nonsectarian fashion was wrong. What actually prevailed in public education was either indifference or hostility, veiled or outright, against all religious beliefs. This was, in fact, a form of faith that denied the relevance of the Judeo-Christian tradition for modern life by denying it any place in the study program.

But opposition to public support, direct or indirect, to any religious school did not satisfy a positive need for Protestants. How would their children receive religious instruction along with their regular training? Instruction in school appeared impossible and Sunday school instruction was obviously not enough. Many states continued to allow simple Bible-reading with no comment; others objected.

One of the solutions tried was that of released time for religious instruction. Students were released from classes to attend religious instruction of their choice taught either at a church or synagogue or by teachers who came to the school for that purpose. In 1948 the Supreme Court of the United States ruled that such a program as conducted in Champaign, Illinois, where school classrooms were used for instruction, was unconstitutional. The argument was that tax-supported property in the form of the schools was used as the place for religious instruction. For a while this appeared to threaten the released-time program, but in 1952 the Supreme Court ruled that such a program was permissible if public property was not used for the instruction.

Apparently this was an opportunity for the Churches to supply a greatly felt need in the education of American children; but could competent teachers, an effective program, and adequate texts be supplied? Furthermore, by removing the training from the regular program of the student, released-time training seemed to emphasize the lack of a genuine relationship between religious beliefs and practices and all the other educational pursuits. Certainly this would strengthen the idea that the religious life was something apart from and unconnected with such other areas of life as politics, economics, art, literature, or science. Here was a basic problem facing American Protestantism in the mid-twentieth century.

The agitation on the Church-State issue continued throughout the 1950’s and mounted in intensity during the 1960’s. It involved the problem of free public transportation for students attending parochial schools, and it also involved the possibility of parochial students receiving various forms of Federal subsidy for such things as school lunches and textbooks. The Supreme Court ruled affirmatively on both questions. The issue that aroused the greatest public interest and a good deal of irrational zeal on both sides involved the problem of Bible-reading and the saying of prayers in public schools. In 1962 the Supreme Court ruled that specific forms of public prayer could not be required by public schools. Many Churches responded to this ruling with indignation and fury. They felt that an entire American tradition had been betrayed. It had been customary to pray or to read the Bible in public schools in many states throughout the Union from the founding days of the nation. To reject these practices appeared to many a godless attempt to subvert the Government and to kill off Christianity. Other churchmen and laymen felt that the decision was poorly timed in relation to current practice in American society, but that it was essentially a fair decision and would in no way undercut the significance or the role of Christianity within American culture.

The agitation on the Church-State issue during the late 1950’s and early 1960’s appeared to be but the first phase of an ongoing shift in practice in the American context. Suits were brought against the tax-exempt status of ecclesiastical organizations. Several were lost, but this does not mean that action has ceased in this area. Already some question the involvement of religious social welfare agencies in various Federal programs. Some men contend that no governmental funds, local or Federal, ought to be expended by religious organizations in such welfare activities as homes for the aged, child care, orphanages, and hospitals. The issue has only begun to be faced. The outcome is difficult to predict. One thing is clear. American society today is so diverse and pluralistic that religion can no longer play the role it once played. American culture will have to find a new basis for unity to replace that formerly provided by Protestantism. That Protestantism and other religions will and ought to play a role in the creation of this new reality in American life would be argued for by most Christians; however, both the way this is to be done and the content of what should be done would be interpreted differently by various denominations.

The dilemma of the Protestant Churches in America as they seek to serve the American people and American society is most clearly revealed in the civil rights struggle since World War II. On the one hand, the Protestant Christian Churches remained a bulwark of segregation in American life. Few if any Churches welcomed Negro members or sought to understand the problems and difficulties of the Negro people in American life. The Churches appeared more fully devoted to maintaining the status quo or a certain "way of life" than they did to proclaiming the brotherhood of all men in Jesus Christ. The Southern states were particularly remiss with regard to the Negro people. Negroes were completely segregated in all social activities, and they were frequently denied the basic rights of American citizenship. In many places they could not vote. By and large they received a poor education and they were not allowed to use the same public facilities as a white man. In short, they were second-class citizens. Whatever problems the Negro had in the North -- and he had problems -- he could exercise the franchise and by the late 1950’s he could use a large number of public facilities in northern cities.

In 1954, the Supreme Court of the United States ruled, in a historical decision, that separate but equal facilities in education was not constitutional. The first positive step since the late nineteenth century had been taken to redress the injustices committed against the Negro people. The consequences were electrifying. As Negro students attempted to enroll in various high schools and universities, riots resulted, and Federal troops and marshals had to be called out. In 1957, Federal troops had to be employed by President Eisenhower to maintain peace while Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas, was integrated. A riot resulted at Oxford, Mississippi, in 1962 when a single Negro student attempted to enroll. In both cases the governors of the respective states fought the Federal order and defied the Supreme Court of the United States. In both cases the governors lost.

Meanwhile, a very effective grass roots movement among the Negro people was started in the South. In 1956, under the leadership of a young Baptist minister, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the Negroes of Montgomery, Alabama, triumphed in their struggle to break down segregation in public buses. It was a long, bitter, drawn-out struggle, but the nonviolent beliefs and tactics employed under the leadership of Dr. King finally won the day. Out of the experience of that struggle there emerged the Southern Christian Leadership Conference founded in 1957, and Martin Luther King became its first president. He demonstrated a remarkable combination of courage, patience, and political acumen as he led the movement for equality in behalf of the Negro people. Only nonviolent means were to be employed, not for the sake of strategy, but out of deep principle and belief. The civil rights movement under the leadership of Dr. King and his followers finds its center in the Christian community. Through nonviolent boycotts and sit-ins, it slowly but surely desegregated buses in many cities and desegregated restaurants and places of public accommodation. Progress was slow but steady. Next, attention was turned to the problem of voting rights.

An exceedingly small percentage of Negroes were registered to vote in the Southern states. From the time of the Fourteenth Amendment in 1868, Southern states had found one means after another to deny Negroes the possibility of voting. Dr. King and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference were not alone in their struggle to win equal rights for Negroes. The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People had long been at work in this difficult and trying field. The Urban League had done yeoman-like work in the Northern cities. Other groups developed, activistic strenuous movements, such as the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). Both of these organizations drew their memberships heavily from Northern college students both white and Negro. Members of SNCC and CORE frequently did the initial work in behalf of voter registration in many of the Southern communities. The struggle of the Negro people for equality caught the imagination and the urge for dedication on the part of many young American collegians. Under the combined efforts of the various groups mentioned, plus the activity of the National Council of Churches, these students flocked to summer training sessions to prepare themselves to participate in teaching programs, in health programs, and in demonstration programs wherever they were needed.

The years 1964 and 1965 saw a rapid escalation of activity and of violence in the area of civil rights. In the summer of 1964, three young civil rights workers were brutally murdered in Mississippi. To this day their murderers have not been found and convicted. Violence was piled on violence as Southerners reacted to those who wished to win equality for Negroes in American life. Riots erupted in Harlem, in Rochester, New York, and in other American cities in the hot summer of 1964, and in Los Angeles in 1965. It was evident that a new page had been turned in American history, and Negroes would no longer be satisfied simply to wait another hundred years, to say nothing of fifty years or even of ten years. It is fortunate for the American people that responsible men such as Dr. King deeply believed in nonviolence as the only way to achieve their goals.

The culmination of the violence was reached on Bloody Sunday, March 7, 1965. As a peaceful group set out to march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, to demonstrate for redress of grievance against the state government for denying them the right to register to vote, they were brutally set upon and beaten by Alabama state troopers and local possemen. Many people were hospitalized. The entire American nation was shocked by this act of violence and savagery. Dr. King appealed to American clergymen to come to the aid of their brethren in Selma. Hundreds of clergymen -- Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish -- responded to his appeal. Priests, ministers, and rabbis all marched arm in arm to protest against the brutality and to demonstrate for the right of Negroes to vote. Undoubtedly the Selma incident was instrumental in speeding up the passage of a Federal right-to-vote law that was signed by President Johnson in August, 1965.

The role of the Churches in the civil rights struggle has been peculiar. On the whole, officials of the great Protestant denominations have been very much involved in behalf of Negro rights, but local ministers frequently reflect the concerns and interests of their own parishioners. However, it must be pointed out that courageous local ministers frequently suffer as they seek justice for their Negro brethren. To be sure, these men are very much in the minority in the South, but they stand firm even when their own lives and the lives of their families are in danger. It is unfortunate that the Southern Baptist Churches have not provided greater leadership for their people in working through this exceedingly complex and difficult issue. The Christian Churches ought to have been in the forefront of the battle for civil rights, but they have only recently been drawn in. However, it cannot be denied that the movement itself, particularly under the leadership of Dr. King, has been and remains essentially a religious movement. Its songs, its dedication, its piety, even its ritual of preparation for a demonstration, all are taken from the life of the Negro Churches. The contribution of the Negro Churches to American civil rights may well be one of their major contributions to Protestantism and to American culture.

As the civil rights movement pressed with vigor for its goals, it ran afoul of the resurgence of the anti-Communist hysteria of the early 1950’s. The condemnation of some of Senator McCarthy’s activities in 1954 did not spell the end of the right-wing movement. To be sure, it quieted down for a short time; however, a movement called the John Birch Society, founded by an Eastern businessman, Robert Welch, picked up where McCarthyism left off and organized a national movement. In the 1960’s, the American public was confronted with the revival of right-wing extremism. The extremists of the right were thoroughly convinced that there was a vast Communist conspiracy to overthrow the American form of government, a conspiracy operating primarily from within the United States of America. Some of the Birch literature called for the impeachment of Chief Justice Earl Warren and spoke of President Eisenhower as a "dupe" of the Communists. Any clergyman within the Church, and any organization of the Church concerned with civil rights or with questions of justice, was looked upon by the right-wing movement not only with suspicion but with hatred.

Singled out for special attack was the National Council of Churches because of its concern for international justice, for peace, and for civil rights. An active campaign was started by various right-wing organizations to persuade individual congregations to withdraw that proportion of their benevolence marked by their denomination for support of the National Council of Churches. Local ministers were frequently attacked by right-wing members within their congregations. The entire civil rights movement was branded as a Communist Party front fostering discord and discontent in the United States. The mid-1960’s saw the right-wing movement more firmly established than it had ever been in recent American history. In fact, it appeared similar to the activity of the right-wing movements in earlier American Protestantism. It was very well financed, thoroughly organized, and determined to play a continuing role in American life. However, the Churches were prepared to cope with this irresponsible movement and would not be bullied or threatened into surrendering the responsibility of the Church for justice in all facets of life.

Nowhere was the challenge to renewal felt more fully than in the vast changes that had come to dominate American social and industrial life. By 1960, 69.9 per cent of all the people in America lived in urban centers. Automation was already making vast strides in industry with a consequent displacement of thousands of workers. Just as the computer made possible automation in industry, so it made possible the entry of the first human beings into outer space in 1961. The Protestant Churches had long been ruled by the rural mentality and institutional form. They now are confronted with the necessity of living in urban centers. They were ill prepared for this shift. Until World War II the full implications of urbanization had not yet struck the Church. Institutionally, the Church continued to live as if it were ministering to a rural culture. All that was changed after the Second World War.

Thousands of Protestant churches in America were disrupted or uprooted as their parishioners moved out of the inner city into the suburbs. They found themselves cut off from the center of decision-making and from the pulsating life of metropolitan communities. In the suburbs churches tended to become centers for privatized piety and of little or no consequence in the day-to-day lives of their people. Meanwhile, vast segments of American life were left untouched by the Churches. Churches tended to pull out of those areas which could not afford to sustain them. For a while Protestant Churches appeared more willing to support missions overseas than they were to support missions in American slums or in the declining inner-city areas. It took almost two decades for the Churches to revolutionize their methods of home missions in order to minister in creative new ways to a different situation. As early as 1948, a group of three theological students started a new type of parish in East Harlem, New York City. As they looked at the degradation and human misery of people caught in a cold, merciless, big city, they determined to bring the gospel in a fresh way. They opened a storefront church and went to live in the same area with the people. They formed a group ministry under common discipline in every phase of their lives -- economic as well as religious. They worked with the everyday problems of these people -- the terrible exploitation and high rent, the cruelty and inequality of law enforcement, the problem of jobs, dope addiction, and alcoholism. They attempted to find new ways of making real and meaningful God’s redemptive love in Christ. They were convinced that the conventional congregational or conversion-type storefront church did not answer the needs of the dispossessed of the big cities. They developed a church in the form of a neighborhood parish administered not by a minister and his assistant or associate but by a large staff consisting entirely of specialists in a wide variety of areas all under a common discipline or in a group ministry. This type of parish spread to other cities. Industrial missions were founded in Detroit, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, and other cities in the 1950’s. They were an attempt to minister to workers and to management in the industrial plant itself.

One thing was clear. The old-fashioned neighborhood church on the corner was not an adequate instrument for ministering in the inner-city situation. The storefront church was one answer, group ministry was another answer, but still new ways had to be discovered. Above all, the Church had to become involved in the power politics of the big city. This was unavoidable if the Church wished to minister to the basic needs of the dispossessed within the cities. In 1964 the Urban Training Center was founded in Chicago. Twelve denominations co-operated in its founding and development. Its special task is to do what no single denomination can do for itself. It seeks to serve as a middle institution between the denominations, the theological schools, and the local inner-city situation. It provides a training ground for experimentation and for active participation in order to learn. It is actively engaged in the central problems of the big city, not in order to be engaged in activism, but in order to train churchmen and theological students to minister in such situations. It deals with such specific issues as school dropouts, the community school issues, unemployment, and community organizations. It was symbolic of a growing concern on the part of the Churches to discover more adequate means of ministering to the inner-city situation.

The churches in the suburbs continue to flourish and to grow at an amazing rate. Whatever is to be done in the inner city cannot be done apart from what is in the suburbs and vice versa. The problem is to co-ordinate the life of the church in the suburbs with that of the church in the inner city in order that both together might minister to the total urban setting. However much division there once was between suburbs and inner city, that distinction is rapidly passing as the problems envelop and control both. As old forms of ministry and congregation continue and are modified, there must be room for the emergence of new forms and new activities. This is the primary challenge confronting Christianity today.

The challenges to renewal confronting the Church have not escaped making an impact on theological education. If the Church is deeply engaged in the civil rights movement, if it is struggling against right-wing misrepresentation of Christianity and of civil life, if it finds itself in a new phase of the Church-State relationship, if it is deeply involved in urbanization and in the passing of previous forms that once marked the so-called Christian epoch, then all these factors must have a profound impact upon theological education and the preparation of men for the ministry. The reorganization of the American Association of Theological Schools in 1956 was symbolic of the change taking place in theological education itself. There was a new concern for co-operation, for mutual planning, and for facing fundamental issues that embraced all theological institutions. The divinity schools of The University of Chicago, Harvard University, and Yale University, along with New York’s Union Theological Seminary, continue to provide leadership in theological research and scholarship for the American Churches. However, certain denominational schools have taken the step of appointing men primarily on the basis of their academic competence rather than their denominational affiliation. Even the strictly denominational schools are moving in the direction of ecumenicity through appointment procedures.

The major question agitating theological institutions, along with the perennial question of systematic theology, was the question of the nature of professional education for ministry. The urbanization of the church, the changing social and institutional structures of the church, and the new demands upon the minister, all combined to pose acutely the question of the nature of the training of men for ministry. This involved nothing less than a review of the content and method of BD. education itself. In 1956 a special study of American theological education was published by the late Professor H. Richard Niebuhr and Daniel Williams. Some of the questions posed therein, and many additional questions, continue to agitate theological institutions. The questions are not only practical as to how long the program should be or what the degree should be called; the questions are much more fundamental. What is the nature and purpose of theological education for ministry? In the light of that, what is the content and method to be?

In 1957 the Institute for Advanced Pastoral Studies was founded at Cranbrook House, Michigan, by Professor Reuel Howe. Eight years of experience with special training programs for men who have been in the ministry at least five years have provided a vast amount of evidence as to the basic problems confronting Christian ministers today. The problem is grounded in the situation in which they are called to minister, in the nature of the theological education they have received, and the failure to have adequate continuing education as they proceed in their ministry. It is evident that theological education must be rethought to the same degree and with the same precision as was true for medical education after the Flexner Report in 1910. Basic in the rethinking of theological education is the role and importance of correlation with such disciplines as psychology, sociology, modern science, and contemporary literature. These are no longer to be thought of as helpful resources for sermon hints, but as necessary disciplines to be related not only to theological construction but also to the practice of ministry itself.

Protestantism is not forced to seek renewal by the circumstances in which it finds itself. It has long been engaged in an internal effort at renewal evidenced by the ecumenical movement itself. This movement, at its best, has represented an attempt within the life of the Christian community to find the bedrock of its faith and action in order that the entire Church might be one and thus more faithfully fulfill its mission and responsibility to the world. Hence, renewal has always been one of the primary objectives of the ecumenical movement.

Within Protestantism itself, the urge, for unity has continued unabated and has grown in strength and activity during the 1950’s and 1960’s. The earlier efforts among the Lutherans to unite were further enhanced when in 1960 The Evangelical Lutheran Church (Norwegian), the American Lutheran Church, and the United Evangelical Lutheran Church united to form The American Lutheran Church, the third largest group of Lutherans in the United States. At a constituting convention in 1962 the United Lutheran Church in America, the Augustana Evangelical Lutheran Church, the American Evangelical Lutheran Church, and the Finnish Evangelical Lutheran Church (Suomi Synod) united to form the largest Lutheran denomination in the United States. Supposedly these were not to be final unions but were to be a step on the way to uniting all Lutheran bodies in the United States. Co-operation between the Lutherans will be greatly enhanced with the formation of a new body, not a Church, but a council of co-operation involving three large Lutheran bodies in the United States, the Lutheran Church in America, The American Lutheran Church, and The Lutheran Church -- Missouri Synod.

Other discussions and mergers were under way in the late 1950’s and 1960’s. The most important of these was that involving the Congregational Christian Churches and the Evangelical and Reformed Church. In 1957 these two Churches merged to form a new denomination, the United Church of Christ. It represented the union of Churches out of a different theological tradition as well as a different tradition of polity. It combined congregational and presbyterian polity with Reformed, Lutheran, and English Puritan theological antecedents. It represented a unique experiment in ecumenicity in the American scene.

In 1961, Eugene Carson Blake, of The United Presbyterian Church U.S.A., supported by Bishop James Pike, of the Protestant Episcopal Church, presented a proposal appealing for Christian unity among the major Protestant denominations. It included an invitation to such diverse groups as the Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists, United Church of Christ, Disciples, American Baptists, and others. The appeal was to set aside temporarily theological and liturgical differences and arrive at a commonly accepted basis for union, dealing with the divisive issues at a later point. Out of the appeal has come a series of discussions between these various denominations. Not part of the original proposal, the Lutherans and Presbyterians have been carrying on theological discussions. In addition, various groups involved in the Blake-Pike proposal have engaged in conversations concerning the basic problems of Church unity. Thus, ecumenicity in the United States is proceeding at a more rapid pace than at any period in recent history.

The World Council of Churches continued and expanded its activities. In 1954, its second assembly was held in Evanston in the United States, and in 1961 its third assembly was held at New Delhi, India. At both of these, progress was made in defining the intent and purpose of the World Council and in preparing various statements on key problems involving ecumenicity and the responsibility of the Church.

The participation of Protestant Churches in America in the World Council continued undiminished. Key positions in the organization were held by American churchmen. Dr. Franklin Clark Fry remained as chairman of the Central Committee over a lengthy period of time. American theological scholars are deeply involved in the various theological commissions of the organization. The assembly at Evanston brought home firsthand to the American Churches the meaning and significance of the World Council of Churches. However, all was not peace and light within Protestantism in relation to the Council. A counterorganization of exceedingly conservative Protestants, entitled The American Council of Christian Churches, was formed to counteract the influence of the National Council of Churches and the World Council of Churches. Vitriolic attacks were leveled against both organizations and against the godless and so-called pro-Communist activities of these organizations. Fortunately, these attacks on the activities of the World Council represented a minority segment within Protestantism. The World Council had more success in bridging the gap between the Churches of a more conservative theological orientation and those of a more liberal orientation than had any previous pan-Protestant organization.

Within the United States, Roman Catholicism was beginning to play a new and creative role. It had made vast gains through immigration in the latter part of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and had consolidated its gains with its outstanding organizational and administrative work. Efforts had long been under way among certain Roman Catholic and Protestant leaders to understand and co-operate with each other in certain key areas. The symbol of the new relationship between Roman Catholics and Protestants, and also of the role of Roman Catholics within American culture, was provided by the election of the first Roman Catholic President, John F. Kennedy, in 1960. His running for office provided the American people a splendid opportunity for discussion of the Church-State issue and also presented them with a specific opportunity for determining the role of Roman Catholicism in American culture and life. Although he was bitterly fought by some Protestants, he was vociferously supported by many outstanding Protestant clergy and laymen. His assassination in November of 1963 saw the entire nation, religious and secular, mourn together the untimely death of an outstanding young leader. The entire nation watched and listened as Mass was said by Richard Cardinal Cushing, of Boston. Roman Catholicism had arrived at a new position in American life.

Before the full implications of the friendly exchange and growing confidence between Roman Catholics and Protestantism could be realized, a change in attitude throughout the Roman Catholic Church and in Protestantism was required. The initiative for the new level of understanding and co-operation was taken by Roman Catholicism. When Pope John XXIII called for an ecumenical council to be held in Rome in 1962, few people understood the implications and significance of that act. The Second Vatican Council was to prove itself the most significant religious event of the twentieth century and perhaps one of the most important in Christian history since the Reformation itself.

John XXIII wanted, as he stated, to "throw the windows open to the world" in order that the Church might renew itself for a more faithful ministry to the entire world. His gracious spirit, his kindliness, and his sense of humor expressed themselves in a high quality of charismatic leadership. He saw to it that Protestant and Orthodox representatives were invited from all over the world to sit as official observers at the Second Vatican Council. He was deeply concerned that Christians come to know, to love, and to understand one another at a new level in order that the Holy Spirit might lead all to unity in his own good time.

Roman Catholic bishops from the United States played an important role in the Council. In the first session they were quiescent as they attempted to feel their way through the major issues and to understand what the intent and true goal of the Council was to be. In the second session they began to exercise more leadership and the majority gradually aligned themselves with the progressive wing of the Council. The American bishops were deeply interested in two important issues, although they were interested in all the major issues under discussion. The two primary issues for them were the statement on religious liberty and the statement on the Jews. Because of their long participation in a pluralistic culture and their friendly relations with the Jewish people and with Protestants, they were perhaps better equipped than Roman Catholics from any other part of the world to understand the significance and the importance of these two issues. In the third session leadership was provided by Albert Cardinal Meyer, of Chicago, Joseph Cardinal Ritter, of St. Louis, and the outstanding Roman Catholic theologian John Courtney Murray, S.J. It was in the third session that the leadership and ability of Cardinal Meyer came to the foreground and that the full weight of the American bishops was felt for the first time.

For Protestantism, the Second Vatican Council ushered in a new stage in American Church history to be known as the age of dialogue. It meant that for the first time serious discussion would take place between Roman Catholics and Protestants over a wide variety of topics. After the liturgical reforms, and the statements on ecumenism and the Church, it was possible for Roman Catholics and Protestants to worship together under limited conditions, to engage in disciplined and continual theological discussion, and to seek cooperation in a wide variety of areas. It also meant that the way for dialogue was open at a new level between Christians and Jews. Thus the importance of the Vatican Council for Protestantism in America was incalculable. Only the future will indicate its true significance.

Meanwhile the Protestant Churches in America. had moved into a new level of discussion and understanding and respect for their Roman Catholic brethren. Roman Catholic theological students were to be found in Protestant theological schools and Protestant students were beginning to attend Roman Catholic institutions. Regular discussions took place between Roman Catholic and Protestant theological students. In late 1963, Cardinal Bea, of the Secretariat for Unity, visited the United States and participated in a special theological conference at Harvard Divinity School. In 1964, Leon-Josef Cardinal Suenens, primate of Belgium, one of the four Cardinal moderators of Vatican II, delivered lectures and participated in special conferences at the University of Chicago Divinity School. Professorships are now held by Roman Catholics in key Protestant institutions. It is no longer possible for Protestant theologians to write their theologies as if Roman Catholicism did not exist or as if it were a straw man to be destroyed through theological dexterity. The same fact holds true with regard to Roman Catholic theologians. The new age of dialogue has dawned and no one can predict its outcome or results.

Thus the Church faces the future. The two major themes that bound together Protestantism in American life found themselves still active, but in new form. The contemporary intellectual and sociological scene compelled them to look once again at the profound insights of the Biblical message. The loyalty to the Bible that marked early Protestantism found representation both in the older literalistic approach and in the new attempt to find creative ways to bring the Biblical vision of life to bear in American society. Even the "God is dead" movement of the younger theologians claims Biblical sanction for its insights. Paul Tillich’s theology is but an attempt to find a new and more adequate expression to make meaningful the significance of the New Being encountered in Christ in the Biblical message. The dialogue between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism has driven both groups back to a fresh appraisal and study of Biblical themes and of Scripture itself. It is interesting that the initial contact between Protestantism and Roman Catholicism in the American scene was provided by Bible scholars and that a good deal of the leadership in the Vatican Council also came from Bible scholars.

At the same time, the experimentation that marked early Protestantism continues at a higher level and in radically new forms. Even the dialogue between Roman Catholicism, Judaism, and Protestantism represents a new experiment within Protestantism which seeks to find more relevant ways for the Church to serve the world. The experimentation that marks home missions work and theological education is but symptomatic of the continuing determination of the Protestant Churches in America to find fresh and vital ways to minister to contemporary life. New forms of ministry and experimentation in organizational structures are well under way. The Church is open to greater self-criticism than perhaps at any other time in American history. The Protestant Churches realize that they cannot go on ministering in the same old way if they wish to be responsible to their heritage and to contemporary life. Thus the Church faces the future! From the Pilgrims to the present century, it has sought a fuller, richer understanding of the gospel for each epoch. At times it has failed, at times it has been eminently successful. In the 1950’s and 1960’s Christianity faced one of its greatest crises in the American scene. In some lands it was under the cross enduring persecution. In America it was so prosperous that it appeared to become flabby. Could it face these multiple threats? In an atomic age, destruction might come at any moment. But on the other hand, atomic science appeared ready to usher in a new age of comfort and progress through automation. In either case, the task of the Church remained constant -- to preach God’s judgment against all pretension, pride, and malice and to proclaim God’s creative, forgiving, and accepting love. Only in this way could modern man have a full understanding of his nature and his destiny in an age of violent extremes. The Church rests secure in the faith that God has more truth and light yet to break forth from his Holy Word and produce ever more exciting experiments and attempts to make it meaningful for modern man.

Chapter 17: Depression, War, and Aftermath

The summer of 1929 witnessed the peak of prosperity. President Hoover talked about two chickens in every pot and a car in every garage. Wall Street was bursting with activity as trade and speculation went dizzy with speed. Business was making profits at an unheard of rate. Everything was expanding. People talked about a new age where prosperity would wipe out destitution. There would be no poor. To be sure, not all shared alike in the booming prosperity. Farmers, never fully recovered from the 1921 depression, and laborers, though much better off, still had not won the respect of the whole community and the basic right to their unions. But these were merely little clouds lost in the endless horizon of increasing prosperity.

Suddenly the blow struck! In October of 1929 a terrible crash on the stock market resounded throughout the world. Overnight fortunes were wiped out. Within a few weeks the value of some Investments was nil, and the stocks had taken an average loss of forty per cent. The sudden plunge became a steady decline in all of American economic life.

Industry and agriculture were both hard hit. Manufacturing plants began to close down. Farm products piled up, spoiling in the fields and warehouses -- there was nobody with money enough to buy them. Slowly the railroads and other means of transportation ground to a halt. By 1932 industrial output was down one half. Banks were failing. Farm mortgages went unpaid, and the farms were seized. But there was nobody to buy them.

As great financial houses and local banks were forced to close their doors, people became panicky and started to rush to the banks to withdraw their money. Hoarding replaced banking. By 1931 nearly one billion dollars had been withdrawn. Wealthy men, made poor overnight, committed suicide. Long lines of discontented men were forming in the cities and towns as they murmured their distress and hatred. In 1929 there were 1,000,000 unemployed, but by 1933 this had grown to 12,000,000 or 13,000,000.

What was to be done? President Hoover insisted that this was but a temporary situation, and the nation would soon pull out of it. Many a politician said, "Prosperity is just around the corner." But 1929 passed on to 1930, then 1931, and finally 1932. Things got steadily worse. Many people felt that the Government was not taking drastic enough action to alleviate the distress of the poor or to overcome the economic collapse of the nation.

In 1932, Franklin D. Roosevelt was elected to the Presidency in the hope that he could do something. As soon as he had taken office, steps were taken to curb bank failure and hoarding; he worked out a program designed to help farmers, developed a nationwide system of relief, instituted a public works program to give the unemployed some work, attempted to develop a national recovery program for industry, and set up agencies to help home owners save their homes and businesses and their investments. Slowly but surely the nation began to recover. Much to the anger of many Church people, the Eighteenth Amendment, prohibiting the sale of alcoholic beverages, was repealed.

The depression had a devastating effect on the Churches as well as on the nation. In the optimistic flush of the ‘20’s many congregations had built new edifices far too large and expensive. When the depression hit, they found themselves unable to pay. Most carried their huge debts; a few rejected their obligation, thus bringing shame on the Christian Church. Colleges and publishing houses, missionary enterprises, and the social work of the Churches were all hard hit by the depression. Many an institution of the Church lost its endowment in the financial crash and had to close or had to drastically cut back its activities.

But the physical effects of the depression were only part of its devastation. It left deep spiritual and mental wounds. It destroyed the utter self-confidence of the ‘20’s, and it gave birth to a despair and lack of confidence. What an opportunity for the Churches to interpret the meaning of this event! Yet, the Churches profited little in terms of growth. There was no surge of a repentant people to the Churches. There was no appreciable increase in the numbers of churches. There was no great revival which swept the nation.

Perhaps that was good. The Churches did not lose members because of the catastrophe; neither did they make great gains. They did seem to grow in their depth of understanding the meaning of suffering and sacrifice in the Christian life. This was no time for an emotional outburst that would sweep millions into the Church. It was a time for sober reappraisal of the kind of message the Church had preached and of its relevance for modern life.

While the larger Protestant denominations were busy with their reappraisal and their ministering to the spiritual needs of the nation, there was one segment of Protestantism that profited greatly by the depression. This was the group of Churches usually called "sects." They stressed the radical, emotional conversion of the sinner and the new life lived in all holiness. They stressed the presence of the operation of God’s Holy Spirit and the rebirth through him; thus, they were called Pentecostals. Some of them spoke with strange, unintelligible utterances, most practiced faith healing, and all advocated a rigorous moral life. Among these were such groups as the Nazarenes, the Assemblies of God, and the Holiness or Pentecostal Churches.

Another type of Christianity that had wide appeal at this time of dire national distress was the adventists. It believed in the immediate return of the Lord Jesus Christ, just as William Miller had in the 1840’s. One of the most rapidly growing of such groups was that called Jehovah’s Witnesses. Founded by Charles Taze Russell at the beginning of the century, it professed to be no Church and had no ministers. The leadership was later in the hands of " Judge" Rutherford, who, like Russell, turned out thousands of pamphlets and tracts.

Witnesses were to be found on every street corner passing out their paper, The Watchtower. Nobody is certain how many members they have, for they will never release figures. However, their message of the immediate coming of God’s judgment met with great appeal in an age disillusioned with the disappointments of life. It gave many faith, courage, and hope. Their slogan, "Millions now living will never die," had great appeal. Even though life was very hard, it would soon be ended, the evil would be punished, and the saints would be blessed. They refused to fight in any wars or to salute any flags. Their only loyalty was to Christ, and for him alone they were prepared to fight. Because of this, they were always under suspicion in most communities. Nevertheless, they grew.

Though the Protestant Churches did not experience a large increase in membership, except for the extreme sectarian groups, they too went through a profound and invaluable experience as a result of the depression. For too long they had preached and taught a rather shallow message which was a watering down of the full insights of the gospel. No age perfectly comprehends God’s message of judgment and redemption, but some ages become so smug in their interpretation of that message that they fail to stand under it. They often pick that side of it which justifies their own wellbeing and earthly possessions.

Though liberal theology and the social gospel contained many valuable elements necessary for their age, they also played into the hands of the age by their emphasis. People of the ‘20’s were convinced that Christianity meant literally following the Golden Rule -- doing to others as one would wish to be treated; that it stood for the gradual building of the Kingdom on earth by men of good will if only men would exert enough good will; and that through friendliness and kindness that Kingdom was slowly being built in America.

Suddenly the Protestant Churches were confronted with the stark reality of the failure of their dreams. Under all the supposed goodness and friendliness of the prosperous ‘20’s were to be found greed and pride. Man suddenly was shown to be no higher on the moral scale, no less selfish than his medieval brethren. In place of a new stage in the Kingdom of God men had arrived at a shattered economy. The consequence was a new look at some old Protestant doctrines that had been largely ignored -- sin, faith, and justification were once more relevant.

A short time before the depression struck, a young pastor left his parish in Detroit and went to teach at Union Theological Seminary in New York City. Reinhold Niebuhr had come from the bosom of liberalism, yet he had been bred in a church of Lutheran and Reformed traditions. Furthermore, in his living through the momentous events of war, Versailles, depression, and the rise of Fascism he was forced to rethink the relevance of Christianity to these events.

He attacked the illusory faith of modern man in man as an idolatry. The twentieth century believed in man’s essential goodness, in his power to subdue the forces of nature and so to overcome that which holds back progress, and it believed in the presence of God at work within man and nature, bringing through man’s actions ever higher stages of progress until God’s Kingdom would be established.

Niebuhr decried this naïve faith in man’s ability and goodness. Man was not only good; he was also a sinner. He used his powers to make a god of himself, to pretend perfection and fulfillment in the face of his self-centeredness and disbelief. Man stood in need of repentance and faith in his Creator and Redeemer. He was not his own creator, he was a creature made in the image of God. Man could not overcome social and political problems simply by good will and by the application of the teachings of Jesus. He is not bringing in the Kingdom of God.

The social gospel was not thereby stifled. Rather, it was transformed. Professor Niebuhr had an even deeper concern for social justice and the relation of the Christian faith to economic and social problems. He insisted that two things were lacking in the old social gospel. It did not see the depth and complexity of evil in the social situation, nor did it understand that justice or the Kingdom of God could never be fully achieved by man in history.

The evils arising out of economic equality could not be solved by a simple application of the teachings of Jesus. These teachings were never intended to be used that way. The point was never reached where perfectly good men on both sides could transform a social problem into a perfect situation. Evil and selfishness could not be eradicated either from the system or the individuals, it could only be checked and made better. Thus perfection was never to be expected. Only God was perfect. Each age, each situation, had to face God’s judgment and demands. As the Christian faced this he had to seek a tolerably just solution which did not pretend to be perfect and so was always open to a new adjustment. Moving between judgment and forgiveness and not by a direct application of Jesus’ teachings was the way to face social evils.

Between the ‘20’s and the opening of the Second World War there was a general shift in both the pulpit and the theological schools of America. Reinhold Niebuhr was a symbol of, and the outstanding leader of, that change. It was directly related to the change that had taken place in Europe, particularly among German theologians. It marked the return of American Protestantism to one of its genuine roots -- a deeper concern for the beliefs and theology that underlie action. Over twenty outstanding preachers and teachers wrote short articles in The Christian Century explaining how their minds had changed in the period 1930-1940. Truly a great change had come. Its full significance cannot be assessed yet.

Most liberal American pastors and theologians were not willing to change their liberalism and also retained their social concern. Of course, large numbers, particularly in the South and in the rural districts, had never accepted such a point of view. But some who had adopted liberalism wished to retain its good points while rejecting some of its false emphasis. This was a difficult thing to do and was made doubly difficult by those liberals who saw no need for a change. Nevertheless, progress was made.

Once more American pulpits spoke of man’s sin and selfishness, not just as some temporary condition stemming from physical needs but as a basic pride and perversion in the very center of his will. No longer did one hear so much about the inevitable progress in goodness and the gradual building of God’s Kingdom. God was at work in history, yet also high and mighty, lifted up, beyond history -- the Creator and Redeemer. Rather than emphasis on man good will and good deeds as the basis of man’s action, stress was placed on the forgiveness of sins through God in Christ, the centrality of the cross revealing God’s creative love to which man responded in trust and obedience.

So a shift occurred in American theology and preaching. This was reflected in magazine articles, in books, and in seminary curriculums. Once more, as in the past, theology was becoming the center of the training for the pastor. This really did not get under way until during and after the Second World War, but even in the late ‘30’s there was a move in that direction. What a man believes, that he will do. What are the basic beliefs of the Christian faith? How are they related to modern life? Are they relevant? If so, how can they be presented to modern man? These are not questions of techniques. They are questions of the wellsprings of life; they are theological questions.

Still another new development during the ‘30’s and ‘40’s was that of pastoral counseling. At the same time, religious education stressing movies, group discussions, and class lessons based on the latest psychological research reached its peak in the first half of the 1930’s. But it worked largely on the assumption of the basic goodness of man and the need to provide an outlet through discussion and education to release that goodness. This was in direct opposition to the new theological temper critical of liberalism; so religious education continued to rely on a theological position that no longer held the field. It too faced the necessity of rethinking its basic beliefs, and it is still engaged in that task.

The new currents in pastoral counseling arose out of the new discoveries in psychology and psychiatry and the emotional breakdown of modern man. Under the stress of complex modern life, with its speed, mechanics, and disregard for personal relationships, man found it difficult to make adjustments and to find a meaningful life. Pastors were confronted by growing numbers of mentally ill. Research indicated a close correlation between spiritual and physical health. The pastor could co-operate with the physician and psychiatrist in bringing mental health to the patient. How?

It was to answer this question that the whole field of religion and personality developed. Under the direction of the Federal Council of Churches, a Committee on Religion and Health was founded. It held conferences, published reports, sponsored lectures, and encouraged research and activity in that general area. It called for better training of modern pastors so they could play their part in ministering more fully to both the physically and the mentally ill. Seminaries undertook to train men by instruction and clinical practice. Simple conversion was not an automatic solution for all the ills of modern man.

Meanwhile, the entire world was passing through a grave economic crisis. England and France, Germany and Italy, were stricken. Russia had gone through a bloody revolution that slaughtered off the Czar and Russian nobility and placed a dictatorship of Communists in control. In the depth of their despondency Germany and Italy turned willingly to the siren ways of Fascism which extolled the glory of race and fatherland. Hitler and Mussolini took control of the destiny of Europe.

The League of Nations was powerless to stop the rise of these evil forces because it had neither the will nor the power to do so. America had turned its back on the world and said, "Let it go its own way." England and France used the League as a means of punishing Germany and of upholding their own interests. Thus, when Japan wantonly invaded China in the early 1930’s, nobody in the League was willing to take real action.

In 1934, Italy, feeling proud and strong under Mussolini, invaded Ethiopia with the blessings of the pope. America was indifferent, and the best the League could do was to impose some economic sanctions. But in 1938 Europe again had a rude shock. Germany under Adolf Hitler was on the march. First came the sellout of Czechoslovakia at Munich as fearful nations attempted to appease the German wrath. Within Germany, Hitler carried on a ruthless and bloody campaign against Jewish people treating them as social inferiors. Again America remained largely indifferent.

In September of 1939, Hitler’s armies struck Poland. The Second World War was on. Soon France, England, Russia, Italy, and all the lesser nations of Europe were drawn in. This time the United States was determined to stay aloof, yet in comparison with the First World War they were in far more danger morally and physically in the second war. This was the age of airplanes and flying rocket bombs. All indecision on the part of the nation was blasted by the Japanese bombs that fell on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941. America was again at war, this time on two fronts -- east and west.

The Churches responded in this war in a fashion entirely different from that of 1917-1918. During the ‘30’s and right up to Pearl Harbor the pacifist group was the most articulate group in the Church. Through outstanding pulpits, through major religious journals such as The Christian Century, and through the Federal Council, the cry for neutrality and peace was heard. The Church had taken part in one misguided crusade; it did not wish to err again. Numerous denominations had passed resolutions condemning all resort to war and crying for peace. Yet some men, through journals such as Christianity and Crisis, edited by Reinhold Niebuhr, condemned pacifism as a denial of moral responsibility in the face of gross Nazi injustice and tyranny.

When war finally came, the Churches quietly took their stand beside the Government. This time there was little hysteria and name calling. There was a fuller recognition of the sin of war yet of its necessity. Preachers did not compete with each other, as during the First World War, to produce the most vile denunciations of the enemy. There was a sober sense of the judgment of the hour and of the role of the Church as a resource to hold back bitterness and to tap the reservoir of a genuine concern for a just and lasting peace.

The Churches participated in the war by sending thousands of chaplains to accompany the troops on the land, on the sea, and in the air. They placed service flags in the sanctuaries with a blue star for each boy in service and a gold one for each who died. They carried the grief of the nation before God in prayer. They ministered to a determined yet saddened and often bewildered people. As our troops liberated sections of conquered nations they sent food, clothing, and medicine to the needy. They established canteens and recreation centers for the troops. They supported mission fields left penniless by the war.

Thus their work was different in the second war. They were not recruiting centers for the armed services, nor were they headquarters for selling war bonds; the pulpits were not used primarily to fan the hatred and the emotions of the people against their enemies. The greater share of the American Christian activity during the second great war was that of service, consolation, and interpretation. They served both troops and conquered peoples with works of mercy. They consoled the bereaved. And above all they interpreted the war to their people as something necessary to put down a terrible tyranny and yet as something for which America too was responsible and for which the people must repent. Although certain that their cause was a righteous cause, the Churches, this time, had no illusion that they knew perfectly the will of God and were, through America, his chosen instrument.

In 1945 the whole world was stunned by the explosion of the first atom bomb over Hiroshima, Japan. Thousands of people were killed and an entire city was put out of operation by one great blast. A new era had dawned! Was it to be an age of atomic destruction or was it to be a new constructive era based on atomic energy? The latest scientific advance of man put him at the crossroads of destruction or co-operation. Under the threat of the atom bomb, Japan went the route of Germany and in August, 1945, surrendered.

What would be the shape of the new world? What would peace bring? The Allies had supposedly fought to gain basic freedoms for all peoples everywhere. Throughout the war the Churches had insisted on a just and lasting peace. In San Francisco, early in 1945, all of the great and most of the small nations of the world, with the exception of the defeated powers, signed the charter creating the United Nations. America was now committed not to turn its back on the question of injustice in any part of the world. Most of the Protestant Churches rejoiced to see the formation of this great organization to carry on discussion for world peace. Here was something worth fighting for.

Meanwhile, the Churches had been far ahead of the world movement for a United Nations; they progressed toward closer co-operation and mutual understanding all through the troubled years of the 1930’s. In fact, not even the war could really separate some of the Churches. More than one Christian prayed for his brother Christian against whom his nation was fighting. From whence came this new spirit which was largely absent during the First World War? It came from the advance of the ecumenical movement during the ‘30’s.

In 1937, another impressive meeting of all the major Christian Churches, except the Roman Catholic, was held in Oxford, England. The topic for study and discussion was to be the life and work of the Church, but so related was this problem to theology that a basic theological discussion was necessary. It was soon discovered that before one could discuss the relation of the Church to various social problems one had to have some conception of the nature of the Church. Much work was done on this before the conference met in 1937.

At the conference itself five commissions dealt with such major questions as Church and Community, Church and State, Church and Economic Order, Church and Education, the Universal Church, and the World of Nations. Here was evidence that the Christian Church was vitally aware of the major crisis facing Western civilization. In the face of Nazi Fascist and Russian Communist threat in the form of a totalitarian state, they dared to discuss the relation of the Church to the State and to raise the problem of the relation of the Church to all the nations of the world. This was a grand demonstration of the unity of the Church in the face of national differences.

The spirit of Oxford was expressed in the statement, "The first duty of the Church, and its greatest service to the world, is that it be in very deed the Church -- confessing the true faith, committed to the fulfillment of the will of Christ, its only Lord, and united to him in the fellowship of service and love."

At Oxford, American churchmen were made fully aware of the challenge to the Christian faith by the two great forms of state absolutism. They saw the handwriting on the wall, and they were led to sympathize with and understand the plight of their fellow Christians in those lands. They were also made aware of the danger of idolizing their own state. This is one reason why American Protestantism did not become hysterical with patriotism during the Second World War.

The world conference on faith and order so ably headed by the American Episcopal bishop, Dr. Brent, also continued its activity. After the death of Brent, Archbishop William Temple, of England, became the new leader of the movement. In 1937 they too held a great world conference, at Edinburgh, Scotland. There a full, frank, and open discussion of basic Christian beliefs took place. Though full unanimity was not reached, a minimal mutual understanding was. Furthermore, it was again agreed by all that in spite of the difference and because of certain common beliefs it was possible to co-operate on many practical matters. At the conclusion, the conference recommended that they should seek to join with the life and work group of Oxford to form the World Council of Churches.

The International Missionary Conference born of the Edinburgh and Jerusalem meetings had created national missionary councils in a large number of countries. In 1938, when they held another great international council, they met in Madras, India. Though war between China and Japan had been going on for several years, both the younger Churches were well represented. Two basic questions were discussed. The first concerned the relationship of the gospel to other faiths. New faiths such as Communism, national socialism, and forms of nationalism were as potent competitors as Buddhism or Hinduism. The other problem was the relation of Christian faith to reform within the Church itself. The newer Churches wanted the external Church to reform some of the jealousies and divisions and to show a greater actuality of unity.

Out of all these meetings of world Christianity came the World Council of Churches. Archbishop Temple, of England, gathered a group of Christians to discuss bringing the three international groups into one body. At an important meeting at Utrecht, Holland, in 1938, a constitution was drawn up for the World Council providing for goals and representation. At adjournment the members looked forward to the first great World Council within three years, but within one year the world was plunged into war.

In spite of the war the provisional committee continued to function and make preparations. During the war the Council was a constant reminder to Protestant Christians that they were brothers even though caught in war. This was the only visible Protestant organization larger than the nation, the only group claiming a loyalty above and beyond the nation. In Christ there was no German, no Frenchman, no Englishman, no American, no Japanese. The Churches were all faithful to their nations but their conscience had a higher and final loyalty to God in Christ.

In 1948 after the pain and bloodshed of the war, the first World Council meeting was held in Amsterdam. Christians came from every major nation, every race, every great Church but the Russian Orthodox, which was faithful to the patriarch of Moscow who could not attend for political reasons, and the Roman Catholic, which was faithful to the pope of Rome. As a topic they chose a problem faced by the world struggling for peace -- " Man’s Disorder and God’s Design."

The world was given the opportunity of seeing the Church tackle the most vexing problems facing modern civilization. The representatives did not equivocate. Where blame fell on the Christians, they placed such blame and called on Christians to repent of it. With a sensitive probing they uncovered the idols of modern man and showed the judgment of God against them. They decried unrestricted capitalism which led to unjust inequalities and Marxist Communism which produced tyranny. They faced up to the increasing tension between East and West, between the Western democracies and Russian Communistic nations. Once more they asserted the judgment and redemptive powers of God’s Word against all forms of modern idolatry in the political, economic, and social realms.

Within the United States this same drive toward mutual understanding and unity expressed itself in a series of organic unions and finally in a great federation of co-operating Church bodies. In 1930 three independent German Lutheran synods united to form the American Lutheran Church. In 1930 this body joined with two Norwegian and Augustana Swedish Lutheran Churches to form the American Lutheran Conference. Along with the two larger Lutheran groups, the United Lutheran Church and the Missouri Synod Lutheran Church, they made large gains in membership. During the first war there developed co-operation among all groups but the Missouri Church and affiliates until under the National Lutheran Council they founded a joint organ for co-operating on world relief, missions, student work, and other activities.

While the Lutherans were learning to get along among themselves, the German Reformed and Evangelical Churches united into an organic Church in 1934. But the most important union was that which occurred in 1939. At that time the Methodist Protestant Church and the two great Methodist Churches, North and South, which had split at the time of the Civil War, reunited. This was a great day for Methodism, making it the largest single Protestant Church in America, though there were more Baptists divided into several groups.

The effort to achieve further unification among various Protestant Churches did not cease with the successes of the 1930’s. The Congregational and Christian Churches and the Evangelical and Reformed Church carried on conversations that culminated in a concrete plan of organic union. A clear majority, in both groups, favored the plan; however, some within the Congregationalists argued that the union would destroy the autonomy of local congregations and thus deny the historical Congregational view of the Church. The majority agreed that this was not the case but, rather, was in keeping with the highest Congregational traditions. The unification was stopped only by a court action obtained by its opponents in 1950. But this did not mean the end of the attempt at unification. Meanwhile, the three major Presbyterian denominations continued their discussions of organic union and in 1953 referred specific proposals for a plan of union to their ministers and churches for study.

The peace of 1945 brought no genuine peace to the world. Nazi tyranny was subdued but Communism under Russian direction arose to trouble the world. The United Nations struggled valiantly with the increasing tensions. In June, 1950, the United States, faithful to its pledge to the United Nations, went to the aid of South Korea to repel the Communist invaders from the north. Peace was an uneasy, torturous thing requiring patience as well as courage.

Under such tension a great meeting was held in Cleveland late in 1950. Four hundred and seventy-five delegates attended the formal founding of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. This was a great federation of co-operating agencies and Churches in America. It was not a new organic Church but a council or agency of co-operating Churches uniting on a common profession of Jesus Christ as divine Lord and Saviour, in order to carry on co-operative activities and discussions in such things as home missions problems, Christian education, foreign missions, and other activities. Thus it took up into itself the various co-operative agencies such as the Federal Council of Churches, the Foreign Missions and Home Missions Conferences of America, the International Council of Religious Education, and others. In the fall of 1952 the National Council released a new translation of the Bible, the Revised Standard Version. Millions of Protestants attended mass celebrations in honor of the new translation, and the entire stock of the first printing was quickly sold out. Already the coordinating role of the Council was in evidence.

The trend toward steady growth continued after the war. All the major denominations expanded their home mission work in an attempt to follow people into new areas. Concentrated programs In evangelism were carried out under able national direction. Laymen were pressed into campaigns and became evermore active within the churches. At the same time that a greater effort was concentrated on home missions, the foreign fields were not overlooked. On the contrary, many felt that a fuller foreign mission program was the best guarantee against the spread of communism and the possibility of a third world war; thus, the motivation for mission found a somewhat different basis from its earlier history among the American Churches. This was not the case with most denominational leaders nor with the majority of Christian laity; however, a considerable number of Protestant laity and some clergy felt that the political advantages of missions ought not to be overlooked. Fortunately, higher motives than these were primarily responsible for stepped-up mission efforts. The American Churches shouldered anew their responsibility of providing the major share of funds and personnel for foreign missions.

In addition to these new attempts to win people to the Christian faith, American Protestantism in the late 1940’s and the 1950’s witnessed a resurgence of the mass revival meetings. Once again large segments of Protestantism turned to the "old-time religion" as a means of extending the Christian faith. In the 1940’s there were held a series of mass youth rallies featuring conversion preaching, gospel hymn singing, and entertainment. In 1945 an official organization was founded, Youth for Christ International. Under its direction, great mass meetings throughout the nation were held, and gospel teams invaded England and Europe. Foremost among the leaders were Torrey Johnson and Billy Graham. Within one year, rallies in America gathered millions into their audiences. Following the Moody pattern, an attempt was made to strengthen backsliders, to convert unbelievers, and to get these people to join local churches.

Youth for Christ probably had more impact on people over thirty and forty than it did on those in their teens. In any case, it was the answer of conservative fundamentalist Christians to the challenge of the hour. It was, in fact, an attempt on the part of this segment of Protestantism to adopt the methods and approaches of modern communication in order to make their message more effective. Out of this came an outstanding new revival preacher, Billy Graham. Every modern medium of communication was used by Graham to spread his message. Radio, television, newspapers, and magazines were channels for this modern Moody. He created a superb organization that equaled anything produced by Madison Avenue’s advertising industry. He systematically worked through the major American cities in his attempt to bring his understanding of the gospel to the American people. His message was essentially the same as that of Moody, Billy Sunday, and the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century revivalists, but somehow the appeal did not appear as great. To be sure, millions had heard and attended his meetings, but there was no evidence that his impact on Protestantism was either as permanent or as deep as was that of Moody. In fact, his influence was confined largely to fundamentalist and conservative groups, especially in the South. Moody’s impact was felt in all the Protestant denominations and left a permanent legacy in the American scene. Thus even a resurgence of revivalism no longer was the dominant force in large segments of those churches where it once ruled supreme -- in the Presbyterian, the Methodist, the Baptist, and Disciples churches in the North. Was the world facing its doom, or was the world on the threshold of a new, rich epoch? That was the question on all lips in the mid-twentieth century. Those who always saw the bright side of things were full of confidence and hope. Others who saw all the dire consequences in life were pointing the finger at doom and destruction, and that was the road taken by the contemporary revivalists. America was filled with both kinds of men, but the majority of Christians in America still appeared hopeful.

While the Churches were busy keeping pace with or even exceeding the population growth of the nation, they also found the energy to engage in huge financial campaigns to strengthen their institutional facilities. Colleges and theological seminaries were two of the foremost contributions of Protestantism to American culture. After the war, the Churches found that many of these institutions were in need of new buildings, research equipment, and general renovation. Presbyterians, Lutherans, Methodists, Episcopalians, and other large denominations developed multimillion-dollar campaigns to provide for the needs of their various institutions. Meanwhile, the world relief program for war-ravaged Europe and Asia went on undiminished. Not only did the Churches continue to grow and to strengthen themselves through vast additions to their physical plants, they did not relent in their aid to the European and Asian homeless, needy, and orphaned. Large numbers of displaced people were brought to America, jobs were found for them, homes were furnished -- all under the care of the Churches. Food and clothing continued to flow into Europe and Asia. In ten years the Lutherans alone contributed over $30,000,000 to such relief work. Thus the Churches did not forget the responsibility to their needy Christian brethren throughout the world while they were busily engaged adding to their own facilities in America.

By the end of 1952 over 53,000,000 Americans claimed affiliation with the Protestant Churches. The Baptists remained the largest denomination, with nearly 17,000,000 members, and they were followed by the Methodists, who claimed nearly 12,000,000 adherents. Lutherans were the third largest group with more than 6,500,000 members, whereas the Presbyterians had 3,500,000 and the Episcopalians more than 2,500,000 members. The Disciples of Christ embraced nearly 2,000,000 members, the Mormons had just under 1,500,000, and the Congregationalists were only slightly less than the Mormons.

The churches were full. More than fifty per cent of the American people thus claimed membership in them. If one included people who had occasional contacts through baptism, marriage, and burials, the percentage would have been much higher, probably seventy or seventy-five per cent. This was by far the largest percentage of church membership in American history. At the time of the nation’s founding, only eight to ten per cent of the population were directly connected with churches. Apparently, America was going to church more and supporting the denominations more vigorously than ever before in history. Not only were more people in the churches, there was also greater financial material wealth in them than ever before. Building mortgages were paid, new structures for worship went up, and numerous beautiful new parish houses were constructed. All the Churches’ many institutions were in better financial condition than they had been since the 1920’s. Hospitals and houses of mercy had improved their facilities and paid off old debts, colleges had added large numbers of students and almost doubled their physical capacities. Thus from the outside, the denominations appeared to be in excellent condition.

Not all was as peaceful and serene, however, as it appeared on the surface during the early 1950’s. At the very moment that the Churches seemed most successful there was an alarming outbreak of literature that attempted to speak to the conscious and subconscious insecurity of the church-going population. All religious groups in America seemed possessed by the drive to find "peace of mind." The foremost Protestant exponent of the search for techniques to produce peace of mind on the part of parishioners was a nationally syndicated minister of Marble Collegiate Church in New York City, Norman Vincent Peale. His most famous book, The Power of Positive Thinking, remained on the best-seller list in American bookstores for more than one year. This was followed by numerous other books and a stream of articles syndicated throughout newspapers and magazines in the United States. The titles indicate the content of concern: "The Art of Living" and "The Guide to Confident Living." Underneath the wealth, drive, ambition, and optimism of the American people there was obviously a deep sense of insecurity that Christian theology was not meeting. Dr. Peale applied the latest techniques of psychology with practical means of controlling one’s fear and insecurities. This was the new gospel as preached by thousands of American ministers who followed in the footsteps of Dr. Peale. His counterpart in Roman Catholicism was Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen; but it was the Jewish rabbi, Joshua Loth Liebman, who wrote the first best seller in this category, Peace of Mind.

The uneasiness and insecurity that underlay the façade of optimism and wealth in the American Churches was further demonstrated by the almost hysterical outburst of anti-Communist sentiment in large segments of the American public. It was not easy for Americans and for Christians in particular to live side by side with Communists in the modern world. This was particularly difficult for Americans who in the past could simply ignore their enemies or quickly defeat them. In the new situation enemies appeared to be here to stay; in an atomic age it appeared impossible to defeat them without mutual annihilation. There were those in Protestantism who tended to identify the will of God with America and the activities of the devil with world Communism. Therefore, anybody or any group attempting to pronounce a word of judgment against any form or injustice within American life was identified as pro-Communist or anti-God. There was constant pressure from within and without the Churches to eulogize everything in American life and to decry all criticism of existing society. Agencies of social concern in the Churches were attacked as exceeding their authority in publishing statements on such problems as race relations or economic inequality. In the summer of 1952 the General Council of the Congregational Christian Churches was forced to take a vote on the propriety of the activities of its Council for Social Action. Fortunately, the right of the council was upheld. This was but symptomatic of the uneasiness in many denominations over the social concern and actions of the various boards. This attack on social concern was not sporadic and unorganized. On the contrary, it came from strongly organized centers that were well financed. Under the leadership of Senator Joseph McCarthy, of Wisconsin, and certain other members of Congress, a national Communist hunt was carried on and extended into almost every facet of American life. The Protestant Churches came in for more than their share of vilification. In spite of attempts to paint a vast plot on the part of world Communism to take over and dominate the American Protestant Churches, the best evidence that could be produced pointed to a handful of well-intentioned but sometimes naïve clergy who had at times been used by Communist-front organizations or by the party itself. It was not until Senator McCarthy was "condemned" by his colleagues in the United States Senate in 1954 that anti-Communist hysteria was brought into control.

The early 1950’s appeared almost totally contradictory. On the one hand, Protestantism and religion in America appeared to be in the midst of a great revival. Religious books were avidly read, millions of people attended revivals, a popular TV program was that of Monsignor Sheen, prayer breakfasts were held by President Eisenhower and by Congressmen in Washington. University and college campuses regularly held religious emphasis week. Larger numbers of students were attending theological institutions than at any period in American history. At the same time, in spite of all the attention paid to religion, Americans seemed more insecure and less sure of themselves than they had in the days when not so many of them were present within the Churches. Many feared that Communists were about to take over the nation and that the Churches were rapidly becoming a fifth-column agency to aid and abet the enemy. Others looked to the Churches to give them a sense of personal security and some measure of peace in a world of turmoil. They did not wish the Church to prick the conscience at the same time that it sought to bring a profound sense of forgiveness and release from the burdens of the guilt of modern man.

Chapter 16: War and the Gay ‘20’s

Carnegie Hall, in New York City, scene of many outstanding musical performances, was in 1905 the scene of a truly momentous event for American Protestantism. Representatives of the thirty leading American Protestant Churches gathered there to discuss possible plans for co-operation and unification. Though America was a country of many different Churches, each competing against the other, it had never lost the vision of the Churches working together in the spirit of unity.

During the nineteenth century there were many organizations that attempted to bridge the differences between the Churches of evangelical persuasion. Among them were the Home and Foreign Missions Societies which received support from several denominations. In 1846 the Evangelical Alliance, a world-wide movement of evangelical churchmen, was founded. At one time it counted members of over fifty Churches engaged in its activities. It embraced primarily England and America but also included other nations.

During the latter part of the century there was a growing appreciation of the union movement. Most groups were not willing to enter a true organic union; rather, they felt that some type of confederation which made possible particular coordinated actions was best. Each denomination was fully independent but agreed to surrender certain prerogatives with regard to general problems such as defense of the faith, spread of the gospel, and moral reform.

As America faced new tasks in religious life, two main problems appeared basic. First was the question of the Churches’ relation to the rising social and economic problems. Would not greater strength be found for meeting this new challenge by pooling the wisdom, energy, and plans of the Churches? Second was the question of unrestricted competition among the Churches. Was this not both un-Christian and very impractical?

At the New York meeting in 1905 a plan of federation was worked out creating the Federal Council of the Churches of Christ in America. It stated that its purpose was the prosecution of work that could better be done in union than in separation. Each member denomination was to be represented by 4 delegates for every 50,000 communicants. All problems were to be decided by a majority vote of the general delegates.

Among the stated objects of the Federal Council were:

"I. To express the fellowship and catholic unity of the Christian Church.

"II. To bring the Christian bodies of America into united service for Christ and the world.

"III. To encourage devotional fellowship and mutual counsel concerning the spiritual life and religious activities of the Churches.

"IV. To secure a larger combined influence for the Churches of Christ in all matters affecting the moral and social condition of the people, so as to promote the application of the law of Christ in every relation to human life."

Delegates enthusiastically returned to their respective Churches to plead for their participation in the Federal Council. In Philadelphia, in 1908, after a sufficient number. had signified their acceptance, the Federal Council officially came into being. Co-operating in it were both social gospelers and conservatives, modernists, and the strictly orthodox. They had tacitly accepted a truce on theological discussion in order to concentrate on a task in which they were all at one -- action in the spheres of public morality and social evils. It was decided that no group should surrender its integrity on theological beliefs; theology simply would not be discussed.

All groups were firmly united in the belief that the Churches lived in a great age and had a rare opportunity to further the reign of God’s blessed Kingdom. Ahead was an age of peace and plenty if only the Christian forces could be marshaled to strike a deadly blow against the forces of greed, war, and selfishness. Liberal and modernist, conservative and orthodox, all believed that the real need was for "applied Christianity." Ignorance was to be overcome by knowledge, selfishness was to be conquered by service, and war was to be blotted out by fellowship.

How were the Churches to go about their contribution to the coming Kingdom? This was not an age of words but a time for action! Social activity was the mark of the hour. Vast problems had to be attacked. Public morality and general goodness were being corroded by vast waves of "pagan" immigrants, by crime, poverty, and industrial strife. This was the first line of battle.

This concern for the social problems produced by the new economic life in America was clearly expressed by the adoption, in 1908, of the Social Creed of the Churches by the Federal Council. It became the springboard for much pulpit eloquence during the early twentieth century.

"To us it seems that the Churches must stand --

"For equal rights and for complete justice for all men in all stations of life.

"For the right of all men to the opportunity for self-maintenance, a right ever to be wisely and strongly safeguarded against encroachments of every kind.

"For the right of workers to some protection against the hardships often resulting from the swift crisis of industrial change.

"For the principle of conciliation and arbitration in industrial dissentions.

"For the protection of the worker from dangerous machinery, occupational disease, injuries, and mortality.

"For the abolition of child labor.

"For the regulation of the conditions of toil for women as shall safeguard the physical and moral health of the community.

"For the suppression of the ‘sweating system.’

"For the gradual and reasonable reduction of the hours of labor to the lowest practicable point, and for that degree of leisure for all which is a condition of the highest human life.

"For a release from employment one day in seven.

"For a living wage as a minimum in every industry and for the highest wage that each industry can afford.

"For the most equitable division of the products of industry that can ultimately be devised.

"For suitable provision for the old age of the workers and for those incapacitated by injury.

"For the abatement of poverty."

So the social gospel had won the day. Not all delegates in the Council were in agreement with the above statement; many felt that the real evils faced by workingmen were alcohol and working on the Sabbath, but the principles were approved by most members. This was not a basis for a political program, nor did it favor radicalism. Stress was on education and persuasion with the principles only as the ends toward which society was moving.

In the Federal Council the Churches found the stimulation and the channel through which to discuss and promote their social responsibility. It provided study groups and published findings to clarify major issues facing modern Christianity. It exhibited not only a concern for the rights of the workingmen but also for minority groups in America. Negro Churches were admitted to the Council on equal basis with whites. Again, the Council studied the causes of social conflict and deplored its presence in nation and Churches. In Christ there was neither Negro nor white. It was a sin for Christians to treat their Negro brethren as inferiors. It was the Council that sponsored conferences and literature on this problem.

Meanwhile, there were other pressing problems facing American Christians. Nearly all the major American Protestant Churches -- the exceptions were the Lutherans and Episcopalians -- favored either a drastic reduction of or prohibition of all alcoholic beverages. The Council became a center for the struggle against the liquor trade. While it fought against this, it also carried on a crusade against war. Just as they favored arbitration in industrial strife, so they did in international relations. The teachings of Jesus were to become the basis of settling all international disputes. One of the most important sections of the Federal Council was the Commission on Peace and Arbitration. Active until the war, it slipped for a time into inactivity.

So the Churches of America in the early twentieth century exhibited much the same concern that characterized them before the Civil War. The center of American Protestantism was the denomination with its constant push for more members. In direct competition with all other Churches, it could not forget that it was also one with other Churches. Though the denominations maintained all their historical and theological differences, they were driven together in a spirit of fellowship for action. Reform was still the mark of American Protestantism. Just as Lyman Beecher saw the Churches acting through the tract, Bible, and missions societies of the 1820’s, 1830’s, and 1840’s, so Lyman Abbott saw the Churches declaring a truce in theological strife in order to work through the Federal Council for reform.

In 1914 the world was stunned by the news of world war between the Central European powers of Germany and Austria-Hungary and the Allied powers of England, France, and Russia. Yet nobody should have been taken by surprise. For almost a quarter of a century Europe was teetering on the brink of war. Engaged in a mad scramble for raw materials, markets, and strategic ports, the European nations had divided between themselves the continents of Asia and Africa. It was a bitter rivalry which more than once almost resulted in open warfare.

Of all people in the Western Hemisphere, the Americans were most surprised by the advent of World War I. They too had taken some part in the scramble for colonies, yet their small commitments won from the Spanish War and their constant pressure on South America in no way deeply involved them in the intrigues and race for Asia and Africa.

The immediate reaction of the American people was to remain neutral, and under the presidency of Woodrow Wilson, son of a Presbyterian minister, they set out to do so. Their wishes turned out to be only a dream. They could not remain neutral and do business with the warring nations. Yet they insisted on doing business with both sides as Americans had always done in European wars. Profits mounted, but so did the tension.

As the British placed a strict blockade around the German ports, Germany retaliated by extensive submarine warfare. As the war dragged on, the propaganda favoring the Allied cause mounted. Some men within the Churches favored a peace by arbitration as did President Wilson, but others painting the picture of inhuman Germans, the "Huns," demanded their total and complete defeat.

Meanwhile, American preparations went on. Wilson had been re-elected in 1916 on the slogan, "He kept us out of war." Within the nation two great forces were fighting for the future. One was the pacifist and neutrality group which wanted to remain out of the war. The other was the militant pro-war group. Both groups had numerous clergymen as members.

In April, 1917, when Germany reopened unrestricted submarine warfare and when the last peace proposal had been turned down, America entered the war. Large segments of the population were still doubtful about engaging in the war. But the presses and pastors combined to stand behind the nation in order to marshal public opinion.

Suddenly the pacifist movement was all but swept from sight. Ministers stumbled all over themselves to prove their patriotism and to endorse the war. One Christian pastor said: "It is God who has summoned us to this war. It is his war we are fighting. . . . This conflict is indeed a crusade. The greatest in history and the holiest. It is . . . a Holy War."

So the Churches became recruiting centers and propaganda agencies for the nation at war. Cross and flag were united in common service. The General War Time Commission of the Churches was established to get the fullest possible co-operation from all denominations. Even the Liberty Loans were hawked through the Churches, and the temples once more became centers for the money-changers.

Also, the Churches were in the forefront in spreading the so-called atrocity stories about the German nation. Most of these were absolutely false or were doctored versions of true incidents. All these stories were used to bolster the idea that America was fighting to save democracy from Prussian militarism and Christian civilization from the Hun. The Kaiser became the personification of the devil, and the German armies became the minions of hell.

So the American troops marched off singing "Over There" and "I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy," firm in the conviction that they were fighting to save the world for democracy and Christianity. Only one evil force was guilty of starting the war, only one foul foe committed horrible atrocities, and these men and people had to be utterly crushed and punished. There was no difficulty in recruiting sufficient chaplains to accompany the troops. Wherever men fought the Germans -- in idea or by weapon -- the Church was in the forefront.

In November of 1918 the big guns were silenced; peace had come. Americans shouted with exaltation. The barbarous enemy was defeated, civilization was saved, the world was safe for democracy. The Churches rejoiced that God had gotten America the victory. Through it all walked the figure of Woodrow Wilson, who wanted a just and honorable peace with no vindictive treatment of the vanquished and with a guarantee of world peace through a world organization of national powers.

In that spirit Wilson, holding high his fourteen points for a just peace, went to participate in the peace talks. At Versailles he encountered the vindictiveness of the French and the reluctance of the British. He returned home with only the promise of a League of Nations. Secret agreements and revenge buried the hopes and plans of Wilson. A rude awakening was followed by an ill temper on the part of the American people. They had been betrayed!

Isolationism was the normal reaction. After fighting a war at a high emotional pitch, they discovered that all their idealism and good intentions were scoffed at as unrealistic. Why become involved in any more European intrigues? We had gained only graves for American boys and little thanks from our allies. What many an American forgot was the three years of rich trade that none seemed willing to turn down, 1914 -- 1917.

Wilson was repudiated; his ideals were denied. No League of Nations for America; henceforth, Europe could fight its own battles. Democracy had not triumphed -- Communism conquered Russia, and a terrible economic recession gripped Europe. So the nation turned on Wilson and his peace plans and turned to the Republicans and Warren Harding, who promised a return to what he called "normalcy." That is what America wanted, the good old days of 1900-1914. But such days were gone forever.

Meanwhile, the Churches underwent a period of deep repentance. Thoroughly disillusioned by the European peace settlement, many began to question the Church’s share in the war. As historians laid bare the evidence of faked atrocity stories and the smooth operations of the propaganda machines, clergymen were repentant of the extremes to which many Christians went in supporting and spreading war sentiments.

Out of this came a genuine peace movement. Many leading pastors who had supported the war turned against all war and became avowed pacifists. Such outstanding men as Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick and Dr. Sherwood Eddy, and many others, became pacifists. Under the editorship of Charles C. Morrison, the outstanding Protestant journal, The Christian Century, had vigorously supported the war but now took a pacifist stand and called for the clergy never again "to put Christ in khaki or serve as recruiting officers."

During the 1920’s and 1930’s the peace movement grew in the Churches until it embraced most of the great preachers in the big city churches and a host of clergymen in most of the denominations. The liberal theology and social gospel emphasis combined to bring about a new devotion to the Golden Rule and the teachings of Jesus as the "basis of American foreign policy." Along with this was the constant emphasis on America participating in an international league in order to promote arbitration and international righteousness. The Federal Council had special reports published on these basic problems facing Christians.

While part of the nation was busy turning its back on Europe and concentrating on the United States, another part was trying desperately to see to it that war would never again be the policy of a Christian nation. Though they worked from opposite ends, both wanted the same goal -- peace! Both thought the world was entering a new era of Christian achievement.

Little wonder that the nation was possessed with optimism. After a short business recession during 1921-1922, the country hit its economic stride. Onward and upward went prosperity. Business boomed, speculation increased, and almost every phase of economic life showed expansion. Even the population increased seventeen millions between 1920 and 1930. But in spite of tremendous increases in wealth, farmers and laborers did not share fully in the prosperity.

A revolution was taking place in America -- it was but one more stage in the industrial revolution. Completely new industries developed overnight. Though the automobile was invented before the war, it was not until after the war that Henry Ford mass-produced the famous "model T." Soon automobiles were the possession of large numbers of American families. Highways spanned the nation and covered the states. Gas stations, eating stands, garages, and billboards marked the landscape. Once more America was on the move.

Also invented at the turn of the century, the airplane developed as a common and safe means of transportation after the war. Soon it was competing with the railroads and buses for passenger service. Communication had been revolutionized by the radio. Gas lights had been replaced by electricity which also performed a hundred tasks for the housewife. Even recreation was completely changed by the movies. The America of the gay ‘20’s was a brash, new, growing, inventive, optimistic country. It was the nation of local clubs and booster organizations, and of unbounded self-confidence. It was the nation of big business.

The same spirit of hustle and drive bolstered by the latest high-pressure advertising technique invaded the Churches, conservative and liberal alike. Lighted bulletin boards, weekly parish papers, the printed Sunday bulletin, and the use of radio marked the new age. Every gadget and technique was used by the Churches. A sign on the corner announced that First Church was two blocks east, and it held two services each Sunday morning. Out in the country, just before entering town, a billboard in a strategic place announced the location of South Church and invited all to attend "the friendly church."

More and more stress was placed on the growth of the Church as an institution; hence the stress on advertising to persuade the people to come in. Because of this emphasis, much of the advertising was in bad taste and at times somewhat bizarre. Even the calling of the ministry was reconceived. The modern successful minister had to be a go-getter -- a man who knew the name of every person he met, and a man who kept a complete file on every member in the congregation. At a moment’s notice he could flick through the cards and brief himself on the little personal facts of a family or person, the remembering of which made a call seem so personal and thoughtful. A combination psychologist and business executive, the pastor had little time and less inclination to study or produce sermons with theological substance. Theology and doctrine were largely ignored.

But the Churches were growing. More members were brought in, larger and newer buildings were constructed, and income went up. People were urged to join a church for the sake of the community. Did it not teach children the moral rules of life? Furthermore, it was becoming ever more simple to join a church. Indeed, it was often more difficult to get into the local Rotary or Lions Club, to say nothing of the Masonic Order. In fact, the church was just one more organization in the community competing for the loyalties of people who belonged to four or five such clubs or groups. The church had changed a good deal since the early Puritans demanded a satisfactory public profession of faith before the entire congregation for admission to membership. Few Methodist pastors would think of requiring a strict personal examination of an applicant’s faith by the members of a class. But was not the Church prosperous and growing? Just between 1920 and 1930 it had added 5,500,000 members.

Also, the Church was not inactive in doing works of mercy. In a magnificent way it responded to the need of the various Churches and people suffering from the war. Vast sums of money for refugees and the war destitute were raised and distributed by the Churches. In addition to the regular agencies such as Red Cross and Y.M.C.A. the Churches created new centers for giving. The Alliance for World Fellowship was one such group. The Lutherans were particularly active among the Protestants in helping their German brethren.

Another mark of the Church during the postwar years was the increasing pressure toward Church union. Though the Federal Council was only a federation of Churches, its life and work was a constant reminder of the divisions that existed between Protestant Churches and of the possible life in organic union. Many of these groups were drawn closer together by their action in behalf of better social conditions and public morality. Their most successful campaign was that which finally made the use of alcoholic beverages illegal. Prohibition was made official by the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution, 1919, and was to be enforced under the Volstead Act.

A number of organic unions took place between Church bodies with similar background. Norwegian Lutheran groups united into one body, but a larger union was that of the United Lutheran Church, 1918. Two Evangelical bodies of German Methodist background united into one Church in 1922. So the urge for full fellowship continued.

Several Churches negotiated with each other for organic union, but without success. The Congregationalists carried on discussions with the Episcopalians, Presbyterians, and Universalists, and finally united with the Christian Church in 1931. The Presbyterians and Episcopalians discussed union, but nothing came of it. The Methodists took steps to unite the Northern and Southern branches which had been split by the war. The Presbyterians did likewise. None of these achieved success in the 1920’s.

The same spirit of mutual discussion and understanding moving toward the fuller realization of the oneness in Christ was strongly expressed by further international Church federations during the 1920’s. There developed a Lutheran World Federation, a Baptist World Alliance, the Lambeth Conference of the Anglican Communion, an International Congregational Council, an Ecumenical Methodist Conference, and a Presbyterian World Alliance. Many of these started in the later nineteenth century. All these groups represented international federations of similar confessions and denominational groupings. The real thrust toward one spirit was found elsewhere.

Shortly before the beginning of the war, a great international missionary conference was held in Edinburgh, in 1910. This was one in a series of conferences in which 269 missionary societies were represented. These meetings grew out of a deep need for mutual discussion among missionary representatives in order to meet common problems on the foreign fields. How could Christians expect to gain converts in India or Africa when the natives of these lands were confronted with thirty or forty groups all claiming to be the true Church? These and other problems commanded the attention of the missionary societies.

During the war it was exceedingly difficult to continue missions. Only the Continuation Committee appointed at Edinburgh and headed by that great Christian leader from the Y.M.C.A., John R. Mott, saved the day. Under his dynamic leadership national councils embracing missionary societies and native churches alike were established. Through these groups contacts were maintained in spite of the war. All this effort for greater co-operation in missions produced the International Missionary Council as the successor to Dr. Mott’s committee. At last an organ for true co-operation was present. In 1928 another great conference was held at Jerusalem and a common message of the Church for the world was accepted.

Meanwhile, the thirst for Christian unity expressed itself through other channels as well. At the Edinburgh conference in 1910, Bishop Charles H. Brent of the Protestant Episcopal Church had keenly felt the need for a full discussion of theological beliefs in order that the Churches might find the proper mutual support in the modern world. Granting certain differences in beliefs, were there not also common beliefs and practices that should be stressed? And should not even the differences be discussed in mutual forbearance so there might be a growth in understanding?

The Protestant Episcopal Church of America then raised a general call to all Churches "which accept Jesus Christ as God and Saviour to join in conference following the general method of the World’s Missionary Conference, for the consideration of all questions pertaining to the Faith and Order of the Church of Christ." Unfortunately the war prevented an immediate meeting, but in 1927 at Lausanne, Switzerland, almost all the major Christian Churches throughout the world, with the exception of the Roman Catholic, were present. Discussion was a definite step toward mutual understanding, and for the first time in Christian history the Church representatives departed, after discussing differences, without excommunicating one another.

While the Churches were seeking common grounds in missionary work and doctrinal discussion, they found an area where they could exert even greater co-operation -- the life of working together in facing the social tasks of the Church. In 1925, Stockholm, Sweden, witnessed the first of the great modern councils of the Church. Under the guidance of the Lutheran primate of Sweden, Archbishop Söderblom, the meeting came into being. Here were discussed the Church’s relation to education, international affairs, social and moral questions, economics, and the problem of co-operation among Churches. Here again differences and similarities were brought to light. The much more active approach of the British and American Churches was quite evident. The social gospel was finding an international outlet, but it was also faced by a thorough Christian critique.

While a steady move toward fuller co-operation and a growing consciousness of the unity of all Churches pervaded the international scene, not all was peace and harmony at home. The gay ‘20’s was not only an age of prosperity and building for the Churches, it was also an age of violent disputes, bizarre sects, and radical shifts in belief.

The optimism and pacifism of the social gospel was dealt a terrible blow by the First World War, and German scholarship had undermined its theological basis on the teachings of Jesus. These teachings were not the program of a twentieth century liberal to bring in the Kingdom of God; rather, they were the absolute demand of the Kingdom itself which Jesus believed would come at any moment. So, argued these scholars, one could not base a social program on them.

In spite of the war’s terrible blow against the advance of the Kingdom and in the face of this new German scholarship, the social gospel held its grip on the gay ‘20’s. The leading pulpits of the cities resounded with the phrases "Fatherhood of God," "the brotherhood of man," "building the Kingdom of God," and "the primacy of love." One of America’s truly great preachers, Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick, preached such a gospel with outstanding success. One of his sermons of this type was a classic formulation of these beliefs, "The Second Mile."

In addition to the great preachers, the Federal Council of Churches, various social commissions of the denominations, and great theological schools such as Union Theological Seminary in New York, the Divinity School of the University of Chicago, and the Yale Divinity School, all presented forms of the social gospel. The very course of study in the seminaries reflected this interest. Greater time was given to sociology, social missions, social ethics, and, of course, to means of inculcating the teachings of Jesus through graded Sunday school lessons and other techniques of religious education.

But the march of liberalism and the social gospel did not go unchallenged. Some groups such as the Lutherans argued that this made a new law out of the gospel, washed out all real theological concern in favor of sheer action, and was a distortion of the full gospel of judgment and redemption. Others attacked it from another side as being largely sheer do-goodism and sentimentality. They felt that it had avoided the real problems of the day simply by running about doing things. They sought a new philosophical understanding of the Christian faith, and in doing so they seemed to be moving even farther left than the liberals

The real attack came from organized fundamentalism. Its battle lines and creed had been mapped out before the war, but it was not until the 1920’s that it struck its most telling blows. Firmly convinced that the Bible was destroyed by liberalism and that the fundamentals of the faith were not being properly taught in seminaries, the fundamentalists made an organized attempt to win the day.

One of the first groups to feel the effects of this new all-out attack was the Baptist. Several times during the early ‘20’s the fundamentalists tried to force all members in the Northern Baptist Convention to accept a creed similar to the Niagara fundamentals. They were unsuccessful, as the Baptists insisted that no creed could be forced on any Baptist churches.

When Dr. Fosdick, a Baptist holding a Presbyterian pulpit, preached a sermon on the attempts of the fundamentalists to force subscription to a creed and to decry all liberal interpretation of Christianity, he was placed under attack. He was compelled to leave his Presbyterian church, and he became pastor of the magnificent Riverside Church in New York City. But the fundamentalists pressed for victory among the Presbyterians, Methodists, and Disciples. In no group did they win an impressive victory. They did, however, make it exceedingly difficult for sincere men honestly to relate the Christian faith to modern life. So strong was their influence that they succeeded in having laws passed in some Southern states prohibiting the teaching of evolution. America was treated to the spectacle, in 1925, of Clarence Darrow, famous agnostic Chicago attorney, defending a teacher for violating such a law in Tennessee. Against him was the silver-tongued orator of the Platte, William Jennings Bryan, Secretary of State under Wilson and great politician of the midwest.

So the battles waxed hot between fundamentalist and liberal with the conservatives generally taking a middle road and hoping to preserve both the peace and the freedom of the Church. Through it all the Church grew in numbers and prosperity. Movements toward co-operation and union were vigorous at home and abroad. With the mounting prosperity in the nation the Church shared in the material well-being.

But what of the spiritual welfare of the nation? This was the age of the speak-easy and bootlegger, the era of Al Capone and the infamous gangsters. It was the era of jazz and raccoon coats. America was disillusioned after the first war and the old appeal of the Churches no longer struck the usual responsive chord. People were still very much interested in Christianity, but somehow they equated the gospel with a general friendliness and brotherhood or with a sober, diligent life of no drinking, no smoking, no swearing, and no dancing. But this was not enough. Where was the gospel of a repentance that went beyond simply certain external moral actions? Where was the fullness of the message of redemption for all of modern life?