By Jesse Halsey | c1932
Conference (like Spurgeon’s “committee”) is a collective
noun that means many—but not much. Yet conferences innumerable go on, and
conference must be had, so it seems.
One bitter night, in North Russia, during the war, I asked
a lone sentry what most he dreaded in our isolation, and he said, “I miss bein’
shoulder to shoulder on the march—we never march.” The value of conference is
in comradeship; and its perils lie in the implication that plans and programs
can take the place of work; we need “to march.”
But what are the marching orders? No one appears to know.
At least there seems to be divided council. Here again is the disadvantage of
conference. So many questions are asked, so much discussion develop, such differences
of opinion, so little unanimity of thought, a dozen different emphases, and in
every conference group one or two brethren who have positive opinions on every
last subject: (but are not able to convince their confreres.)
Is there wisdom in a multitude of counselors? Walter
Lippman seems to doubt it, in the political field, and I agree, as to the
religious. But, as I have intimated, conference does mean fellowship, and
fellowship means strength for our souls and for our cause. Not programs, but more
brotherliness will strengthen the church. Friendliness is a good beginning and
in days of mistrust and bickering these ought to be, among ministers,
camaraderie and understanding. Somehow or other the world outside rather
expects a minister to be a gentleman—and brotherly! To forge a brotherhood, to
weld a fellowship, is the first business of a conference.
Discussion is valuable, and interchange of ideas. A great
number of questions will be propounded. (Most men who ask questions will at
least suggest an answer, so I say “propounded,” not “asked.”) Suppose we list
some of the contemporary interrogations. It would run like this: Have you read
“Re-thinking Missions?” What about it? (These are among the first.) What about
the Oxford movement? (Whether the quester says “Bookman” or “Buckman,” will,
subtly, indicate his own feelings.) What do you know about Karl Barth? Is the
proper emphasis on worship or on the sermon? What is the best book of the
contemporary flood? How do you balance your budget? (“I don’t,” comes the
answer.) The ethics of Jesus—do you preach them now? Socialism, communism,
bolshevism and not the first queries, but their shadow is thrown over all. And
then (toward the end)—prohibition?
Where shall the emphasis be placed? Where are our leaders?
The soldiers are ready. What of the march? (Haig latterly, Napoleon formerly,
is credited with the opinion that there are no poor soldiers, only poor
colonels.) And the colonels are in conference!
One (lieutenant) colonel has come to the following conclusions
after many conferences, participated in, listened to, and conducted. And these
“findings” are colored by the opinion and feeling of a hundred of his brothers,
if he has been able to interpret words—and “feelings.”
First and foremost among the younger clergy there is a
desire to follow Christ if they can ascertain His will. They are not strong for
theology, many of them, but they take Jesus seriously, as few generations of
Christians ever have. Over their ministry I would write the text, “Why call me
Lord, Lord and do not the things that I say?”
Many have ceased to look for Leadership or to talk about it. When leaders appear they are not
always recognized. They do their work, give their message, and pass on. Then
men awake and recognize their quality. Moreover, when a man has the qualities
of leadership he seldom knows it. And, surely, he never talks about it. Like
the blue-bird, it comes unsought. No Federal Council pronouncement, no
denominational-headquarters-ukase, none of the old dynamite will stir us now.
It has “frozen” and cannot be detonated. (One of my first jobs as a Labrador
missionary, years ago, was to thaw the giant powder over the forge fire, so
that it could be exploded.)
From the point of view of a parish minister in a
denomination that has no bishop (in name at least); in a Protestantism that has
no pope (for better or for worse); I have determined on a few and simple things
that, God helping me, shall characterize my ministry from this time forward.
(And this slowly formed decision has been molded by many conferences and much
fellowship with the brethren.)
I am done with labels. Men of goodwill are everywhere and
except for these all abide in the ship we cannot be saved. Time has done some
things even with my non-scholar’s mind and I know some of the tricks of the
party-labeled protagonists; they “walk in blinders” as Scott (Ernest F.) says.
So Variety is my
first word. From anyone who has knowledge I am willing to learn. My brethren
will differ with me on all sorts of things, and we will agree to differ. I love
them still and hope that they will at least respect me. The pattern is too
complicated for any one man to know everything.
Then I must Simplify.
Technology will hit the rocks; it carries too much sail. People need a few truths,
simply stated, but beautifully clothed in life. For example; whatever elevates
human life, dignifies it and makes it meaningful is for me RIGHT. Whatever
degrades life is WRONG. This is simple—and inclusive. (Edwin Lewis says it
emphatically, and more at length. I acknowledge the debt, but the principle I
learned long ago.) For me, quite arbitrarily, if you please, this is the
criterion. A philosophy that belittles life is wrong. A science that degrades
life is wrong. An ethic that cheapens
life is wrong. Art, education, literature, drama (movies included), whatsoever
heightens the value of life is right
and whatsoever debauches or besmirches life is wrong—arbitrarily or eternally wrong—(just as you please). There I
stand.
Another simplification (most difficult to practice) might
be characterized as “brotherhood” (there are many synonyms). Charles Kingsley
avowed that we ministers use “brethren” because we don’t mean “brothers.” The
practice of this virtue would solve most, if not all, of our social problems.
“Every problem is a problem in personnel.” Effective conferences of all sorts
could be built around this principle. It is called Love in the New Testament, but, as Moffat points out, it has a
vigorous ethical, never a romantic, connotation. It works in the family; it
works in a church—sometimes. It always works if it is worked. Race, creed,
color, all will yield to it. It is our only hope. All the problems of
international politics apparently must come back to this simple practice. It is
a long road but a sure road. To simplify.
Dr. Lynn Hough has told us, in a variety of ways, that we
need more great thinking. Many smart and some great thinkers we have, but great
undergirding thought is lacking. (Here is the reason for the welcome to Karl
Barth: Will he stand the test?) I read the brilliant epigramist, the caustic
critic, the Menken, whoever he may be, in his particular line (and religion has
its brilliant exponents, too). They leave me burned out. Some system, some
simple but profound principles that will tie thoughts into the bundle of
thought—these, I need, and the times need. (The first books I ever bought with
my own money were Calvin’s Institutes. Long since they went on the top shelf; I
knew too much. They have come down. I need a system. I find, too, that Augustine’s “City of God” has been dusted
off. A gesture of desperation? Have your way. And Hocking, rather than Wieman,
gets attention in a study hour. I am becoming a sturdy Theist.)
Yes, after a quarter century of tasting and testing there
seem to be emerging some Certainties
for me. And people are saying to me (and my brother ministers), as Helen Keller
said to Phillips Brooks, “Tell us what you KNOW about God.” With Carlisle I
determine to consume my own smoke. Such as I have I’ll give. Without apology,
in congenial thought forms, I’ll try to convey my conviction that Jesus Christ
is Lord. With Pearl Buck I’m sometimes tired of preaching, but as preaching is
needed, the living-preaching, I will try and “carry on.” With Dr. Fosdick, sometimes,
at least, I will try to “debunk the debunkers.” Cynicism, and agnosticism and
atheism are not entirely new. I ought to have known it. This is not the first
generation to question. Plato’s teacher taught him to question rather
drastically. There is a wisdom not of today: (A lot of it is in the Bible).
Yes, I should have known it. My teachers often said so.
For example; one day in preceptorial, when the talk had wandered from politics
to philosophy, and an enthusiastic student was expounding the Riddle of the
Universe after Haeckel’s formula, Woodrow Wilson turned to another student, who
was majoring in philosophy, and said, “Tell us about Democritus.” Materialism
is not new; that was the implication—and the truth.
Variety, Simplification, Certitude—these three I now
covet, having learned much from my brethren and some things from experience.
