DENOMINATIONALISM. "But now are they many members, yet but one body." 1 Cor. xii, 20. THE "Here all the rage of controversy ends, And rival zealots rest like bosom friends; For most she fears the controversial pen, George Crabbe. HERE is a widespread impression that the denominationalism of Christianity and the conflicts of doctrinal opinion within the limits of its different sects seriously militate against its super-mundane origin and character. On this ground Lord Herbert attempted to justify his Theism; and in the judgment of many did so with remarkable force, if not with entire success. And Voltaire also, in his Dictionary, with shrewd skill and sarcastic sharpness, wrote: "There is no sect in geometry, mathematics or experimental philosophy. When truth is evident it is impossible to divide people into parties and factions. Nobody disputes that it is broad day at noon." Both of these writers proceed on the assumption that SECTS IN SCIENCE. 285 moral questions should be dealt with as we deal with numbers, triangles, polygons and circles, and that the same kind of certainty is to be looked for in the one case as in the other. But this is unreasonable. There is a broad distinction in kind between these departments of inquiry, which necessarily affects their methods and their conclusions. Truth in the domain of morals and religion is more open to debate than in the physical; for it relates to profounder and more complicated issues; is, in the nature of things, more difficult of proof, and comes into collision with deeper prejudices and intenser antagonisms. These differences being possible in the realm of spiritual inquiry, they easily account for parties in the Christian church without involving the implication of Voltaire that they are contending about that which is radically false. May it not also be said in answer to this objection that the alleged harmony of experimental philosophers is more fanciful than real? There are sects in science as in religion, and they are just as uncompromising and as uncharitable, and probably more so. Not to weary you with illustrations of this statement, permit me to allude to one which was related to me recently in the city of Berlin. Huxley and Owen quarreled over the brain of the chimpanzee. One of these eminent scientists contended that the upper lobe extended over the lower, and the other denied it. Friendship was broken in consequence of this disagreement, and the rivals would not acknowledge each other courteously. The war between them was stern and pronounced, and even the discovery that both were correct did not end hostilities. Although it was shown that what one gentleman affirmed was true of the male chimpanzee, but not of the female, and that what was affirmed by the other was true of the female but not of the male, concord would not return. They both continued to look askance and defiantly at each other, like the famous servants of the implacable and irreconcilable Capulets and Montagues: bite your thumb at me, sir?" 66 "Do you And in the same spirit of sectarianism Professor Huxley criticises M. Comte: "In so far as my study of what specially characterizes the Positive Philosophy has led me, I find therein little or nothing of any scientific value, and a great deal which is thoroughly antagonistic to the very essence of science as anything in Ultramontane Catholicism. In fact, M. Comte's philosophy in practice might be compendiously described as Catholicism minus Christianity." Ah! Could the dead philosopher revive again most likely he would answer this stinging rebuke with scathing sharpness, and entertain society with a new version of the ancient feud: "I serve as good a man as you." "No better?" "Yes, better, sir." Alarmed by the damaging inference drawn from their divisions, and half persuaded of its cogency, a large number of disciples insist on the immediate union of all denominations. In their fright they make some singular proposals, suggest the most astounding compromises, and remarkable theories; and may very properly be called the peace-at-any-price party. Some of them are willing that present differences of opinion and belief should continue, if by some happy device a solid front can only be presented to the world. What they seem to desire is that an end should be put to all discord, at least in appearance. Hence they have invented evangelical alliances, great and small; union societies and union movements, big and little; all valuable and desirable in their place, but without as yet accomplishing anything very wonderful. Others of this class are so intensely interested in this cause that they make the impression that conscientious scruples and moral convictions ought to yield to its superior claims; and that it would be better to narrow the circle of truth than consent to perpetuate the evils of separation. From the beginning of the Christian era there have always been worshipers at the altars of uniformity; who have regarded it as the easiest thing imaginable for all persons to square thought and conduct to the requirements of a single standard. These ecclesiastical morphologists have not only demanded that conduct should be conformed to the same pattern, but that belief should be cast in the same mold. They never, however, have succeeded in actualizing their ideal. The decrees they fulminated, the persecutions they employed, and the anathemas they invoked, came short of their aim. Religious people would not think alike, would not act alike, would not fetter the free life in them; but persistently ran into all sorts of irregularity, singularity, and nonconformity. In our time this zeal in behalf of oneness has not abated; but recognizing the difficulty of controlling thought, in some quarters it now pleads for agreement in outward observances and ceremonies, whatever may be the individual belief. However motley, multifarious and heterogeneous faith may be, it is assumed that practical submission to the same forms would impart to the church that union which was contemplated by the Savior, and which for so many reasons is desirable. This is the present attitude of the Roman Catholic church and of the Church of England. A great variety of opinions are tolerated within their communions on condition that the ritual be faithfully maintained. But this spirit of compromise is looked upon as deplorable by a more radical class, who have not yet been convinced of the utter impossibility of actualizing the other half of the old strict conformity theory. They do not understand how any person can arrive at different conclusions, in reading the New Testament, from their own. Diversity is inexplicable, extraordinary, monstrous. They are ready to ascribe it to eccentricity, aberration, or something worse; and, forgetting that they themselves are not in entire accord with the theology of the past, they are ready, in the interests of union, to cut off from their fellowship the members who offend against what they regard as inspired truth. But however these parties may dissent as to means and measures, they are all intent on the unification of the church in some fashion, more or less complete. This, in their judgment, is the supreme question of the hour, toward whose solution they are struggling along somewhat confusedly and blunderingly. I am convinced that whatever of error is involved in the views current on this subject is largely due to unacquaintance and unfamiliarity with the real law of unity as it is revealed in nature and revelation, and to the failure to recognize the degree and kind of diversity that is not only compatible with it, but inseparable from it. If we look upon the sky we find it at times overcast with clouds, which assume the most varied and changing shapes. Now they drift like fleecy snow across the expanse of blue, then wander slowly up and down, like flocks of sheep, seeking pasturage among the stars, and shepherded by the gentle wind; or they are piled up on the horizon's extremest verge, dark with storm and heavy with tempests, resembling some huge citadel frowning on the peaceful vale; or they are spread out beneath the glory of the setting sun, from whose glittering planes majestic forms arise, picturing to the eye the beauty and harmony of the heavenly city, with its streets of gold, its gates of pearl, and its walls of precious stones. Their transitory and fleeting shapes, that now appeal to fear and then to fancy, are but sculpturesque, though unsculptured, figures of that one element that falls in the rain, gleams |