Part 1

MORALITY WITHOUT GOD

Including Letter to Right Rev. Bishop Anderson

A Lecture Delivered Before the Independent Religious Society.

Orchestra Hall, Michigan Ave. and Adams, Chicago, Sunday at 11 A. M.

By M. M. Mangasarian

1905

Right Rev. Bishop Anderson, Chicago, Ill. Reverend and Dear Sir:--

Last Sunday's papers announced that the Episcopal Church has arranged for a series of meetings in this city "to arouse a national revival of interest in church extension at home and abroad." The report also furnished the names of the distinguished speakers who will address these meetings at Orchestra Hall.

I write this note to suggest that, if agreeable to you and your committee, a representative of your church be sent next Sunday morning to deliver an address before the Independent Religious Society, which holds its Sunday meetings at Orchestra Hall. We shall be very much pleased to have you deliver this address, but it will be equally agreeable to us to welcome anyone whom you may delegate in your place.

If you have no objection, I request that your address be on the following important and timely question: "Can there be any morality without a belief in God?" This subject will offer you, or your representative whom you may send in your place, an opportunity to show the importance of the church in the moral education of the people.

It is understood, of course, that the lecturer of the Independent Religious Society will be upon the platform with you at Orchestra Hall, to introduce you, and to present his thoughts on the same subject You may speak first, or if you prefer to make the closing address, there will be no objection to it.

Let me assure you that this meeting will not be in the nature of a debate, as no interruptions from the audience or comments by the lecturer upon your address will be permitted. Immediately upon the conclusion of the two addresses, the house will be dismissed.

If it will be a help to you to know in advance what position I will take on the subject of the proposed addresses, let me say as clearly as I can, that I will try to show that morality is independent of a belief in God or gods, and that, therefore, church attendance is not essential, but that, on the contrary, often church going retards both intellectual and moral progress; and further, that the countries in which a larger proportion of the people go to church, and the Ages of Faith, in which everybody went to church, are and have been, the least moral.

Hoping that you will not refuse to come and present your views on this serious question to the large audience which will receive you most cordially at Orchestra Hall, next Sunday morning,--or if you cannot come next Sunday, on any other Sunday morning that you may appoint,--I remain,

Yours with all good wishes,

M. M. Mangasasian.

MORALITY WITHOUT GOD

|When I invited Bishop Anderson of the Episcopal Church of this city to address you, it was from a sincere desire to give you an opportunity to hear in this house, and under the auspices of this movement, a strong and comprehensive statement from the other side, if I may use that expression. I invited the bishop because he is freer on Sundays than the average clergyman who has his own people to preach to, and in the second place, because he has the authority to send someone in his place if he could not come himself. In the third place, I addressed my letter to the Episcopalians because they were to have a convention in this same hall for the purpose of rousing interest in church work.

The Right Reverend Bishop Anderson of Chicago should have accepted cordially our invitation, yet not even of the courtesy of a reply has he deemed either you or me worthy. I do not know how to explain the good bishop's indifference to our invitation, except by saying that, either the bishop considered us hopelessly beyond the saving power of his religion, or that in his own heart he considered his creed, while good enough for the unquestioning, a little antiquated for an inquiring American audience. But the fact is now on record that he was invited to deliver his message to us, and he has not even acknowledged the invitation. To reconcile such action with the spirit of "brotherly love," publicly professed by the bishop, or with the divine command to preach the gospel to every creature, will require considerable mental dexterity.

We have heard the bishop and his people sing the hymn=

```Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war."=

Where are the soldiers? Why do they avoid a conflict if they _are soldiers?_ We did not invite them to a fight: we did not ask them to a debate; we did not care to enter into a "duel of words," as some papers have put it. Far from it: we assured the bishop that there would be no questions asked by the audience, and no comments permitted. He would listen to our message and deliver his. But suppose we had invited him to a clash of ideas--to an argument--suppose we had asked him to give us "the reasons for the hope that is in him," as the Bible says--how could he decline such an invitation? The Apostle Paul reasoned before pagan rulers, and from Mars Hill, in Athens, he preached to pagan philosophers--to doubters. Why should Bishop Anderson have less courage, or be more cautious?

When a great cause, or a cause that has been great once, declines a public opportunity to advance its interests, to justify its claims, to convince--to convert, it is a pretty sure sign that its fires are burning low, and that it has fallen into the "sere and yellow leaf."

Christianity, once an aggressive and virile movement, now resorts to apologetics, compromise and concession to prolong her life. She seeks shelter against the spirit of the age. She is cultivating the art of silence. Yes, Christianity is seeking a lower level. It attacks wooden idols seven thousand miles away, but at home,--in the presence of intellectual inquiry, it is paralyzed.

Of course it could be said that if we wished to hear the bishop's gospel we could have gone to his church. Yes, we could. But so could he have come to us. Furthermore, the bishop does not say to the Hindoo, or to the Japanese, "If you want my religion, come and get it." He sends it to them, and he even asks for iron-clads to compel the Japanese and the Chinese to hear his gospel. Yet at home he will not step around the corner to deliver his message to us.

The invitation to the bishop is a standing one; it will never be withdrawn.

The same invitation is extended herewith, this morning, to any clergyman or layman who is willing to come and deliver his message to us and to hear ours--on one condition, however--that the clergyman or the layman who accepts our invitation shall come as the representative of his denomination or church--he must come with his credentials--he must be commissioned by his church to speak for the church. And whenever any denomination in this city or country shall send a delegate to address us, he will be received with the greatest cordiality, and his message shall be listened to in a spirit of fairness.

The question: Can there be any morality without a belief in God, is a fundamental one, and the fact that we are willing to study it proves that we take more than a superficial interest in what might be called radical problems. To this question the first answer is that of philosophy, and the second is that of history. This morning we will confine ourselves to the theoretical or philosophical aspect of the question.

What is there in a belief in God which should be indispensable to the moral life? Why should the moral life be inseparably associated with a belief in God? The theological position, in which you and I were brought up, is, that morality is impossible without a belief in God. The scientist's position is that morality is independent of a belief in God. The scientist does not deny dogmatically, the existence of a God. The scientist is far from denying even that there is at the heart of the universe a mystery,--an insoluble problem, at least a problem that hitherto has refused to reveal its secret to the human mind,--but he contends that to associate the moral life with this mystery, this insoluble problem, is to envelope it in darkness and uncertainty.

"No God, no morals," says the theologian. He even earnestly desires all unbelievers in his creed to be immoral. He is really grieved and disappointed when he finds goodness among unbelievers in his religion. he knows that the people must have morality. He knows that the world cannot last without morality, and if he can get the people to think that they can't have morality without his creed, the future of his creed will be secure.

He either denies that goodness without his creed is goodness at all, or he tries to show that the credit of it really belongs to his religion. These good unbelievers are really believers, without knowing it, argues the theologian. If the Japanese can be patriotic and honest, it is due to Christian missions, declares the preacher. If Darwin and Huxley were noble men, it was because they lived in a Christian atmosphere. In short, directly or indirectly, according to the theologian, his religion is responsible for all the goodness in the world. We shall not stop to inquire, for the present, how so conceited and partisan a spirit can be reconciled with true morality. But it is evident that in associating belief with morality the preacher is trying to save "belief," not morality.

But how are we going to dislodge him from his position? It is as if the Czar of Russia, whose people are having a strenuous time just now, were to say to them, "You cannot have either order or peace in Russia without the autocracy." He knows the people desire order and security, and hopes to make autocracy permanent by associating it with the things the people want. It is like the Republican party going before the country and saying "You cannot have prosperity in America, unless you keep the Republican party in power," or the Democrat-claiming that they alone can save the country. It is taking advantage of the people's dependence upon order, peace and prosperity to promote partisan politics. And so the theologian who says "You cannot have morality unless you have my creed," is trying to play the role of a politician. He too would see the country ruined if that would advance his party or church.

We wish to see this morning how much truth there is in the theological position. The believer in God argues that to question the existence of God is a crime. He insinuates, nay, he declares boldly, that only the wicked question the existence of the deity,--just as only rebels would question the right of the Czar to be a despot.

But to call the man who questions the existence of God wicked, is no answer to his question at all. When you have no way of meeting the argument of your opponent and you attack his character, you only prove yourself to be in great distress. To call a man whose questions you can not answer, a "monster," a "blasphemer," a "devil," is, if I may have permission to say it, the policy of cowards. If you cannot answer his question, why attack his character?

But the theologian knows what he is about. If he can get people to believe that whoever questions his creed is a scoundrel and a wretch, he will succeed in associating, in the popular mind, inquiry or doubt with immorality, and thereby he will be strengthening his position that only believers in his creed could be good. Another result would be that, if he succeeds in defaming the character of the inquirer, people will avoid him--it will not be respectable to be seen in his company or to think as he does, all of which will protect him a little longer against the disturbing inquirer.

But, listen to this: Let us suppose that every one who questions the existence of God is a villain, would that relieve clergymen from the solemn obligation of producing their evidence--of proving their dogmas?

The other day a mass meeting was held in one of our public schools to denounce reckless automobile driving. One of the speakers, a clergyman, said that Darwinism and infidelity were responsible for criminal driving. This was the clergyman's way of confuting Darwinism. He thinks that if he can prove that the evolutionists kill people, he will have disproved Darwinism. But Darwinism is a scientific theory, and if it is true, why, even if it killed people wholesale, that would not prove it false. If Darwinism is false, on the other hand, all the painstaking and respect for human life on the part of Darwinian automobiles would not make it true. Darwinism does not stand or fall with the characters of automobilists. But this clergyman had no other way of answering Darwinism, so he said that. It is the argument of sheer desperation. He is trifling with a subject he feels is beyond him. Instead of discussing it, he calls it names. Small talk for small people!

The Christian religion in which we were brought up, teaches that to believe is a virtue, and--not to believe is a crime. Is it true? If I were to say to you, "You must believe that George Washington was the first president of America," would you deserve any credit for believing it? The evidence is so overwhelming that you cannot help but believe it. There is no virtue in believing in a statement which cannot be reasonably doubted.

But suppose I were to say "'You must also believe that George Washington invented the theory of evolution." Could you be blamed for refusing to credit a statement which there is no evidence to establish? You believe in the first statement because it agrees with the facts, you object to the second because it does not agree with the facts. In other words, you believe or question according to the nature or force of the evidence.

It is precisely the same with religion. The priest says "God made the world in six days." If he can prove it we have to believe it. If he can not prove it, we are not to be blamed for saying "not proven." The priest says Jesus was born of a Virgin. We don't deny it--we ask for evidence. If a doctrine or proposition should be accepted as true in the absence of convincing evidence, why then is not Mohammedanism as true as Christianity? Why is not a bit of blue glass as good as a God? To believe intelligently, one must have evidence; to believe blindly, one religion is as good as another.

The existence of God has always been disputed and is still in dispute today. A hundred books are written to prove his existence; a hundred others question his existence. A great thinker in the eighteenth century said "That which is the subject of eternal dispute cannot be a foundation for anything." The scientist, therefore, in striving to separate morality from theology (for it is theology and not true religion that we object to) is rendering a great service to the cause of righteousness. He is removing morality from the sphere of uncertainty and controversy into the air and light of day.

But it is not about the existence of God alone that there is uncertainty; there is misunderstanding and disagreement also about his character. It is not enough to say there is a God,--we must agree about his character. Yet that question is even more in dispute than his existence. If the mere belief in a God is enough, why is not the Mohammedan God enough? The Christian god has a son, and you cannot approach him except through his son. The Mohammedan god has no son. How can they be the same being? The god of the Christian believes in the atoning blood of Christ. The Mohammedan god repudiates such an idea. How can they be the same being? What are we going to do,--if we associate morality with a being whose character is in dispute? Are they the friends of the moral life, who perplex our conscience with conundrums? Even when we have decided that the Mohammedan god is no god at all, and agreed upon our own deity, are we sure that his character as represented to us is calculated to encourage the moral life? That is an important point. What do we know about the character of God except what the priests tell us, and what we read in their books about him.

Now, I wish to make an explanation. It is not the first time I have been compelled to make it either. It is very unpleasant to say unpopular things. To stand up here and say the things which make me appear sacrilegious and blasphemous in the eyes of the respectable majority is not, I assure you, a pleasure; it is a sacrifice. But I have undertaken the work and I must do it.

The character of God as painted for us in the Bible is not calculated, in my humble opinion, to encourage the moral life. The god of the Jewish and Christian scriptures is not a moral being. He does not live up to his profession. He violates his own commandments. I do not say this hastily or carelessly,--I have studied the question. Take the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." Jehovah breaks that commandment a hundred times, if the Bible is reliable. No sooner had Moses descended from Mt. Sinai, with the Ten Commandments, than God urged him to get the Jews to kill one another, and fifty thousand were slain in one passion. The repeated commandment of God to the Jews to exterminate their neighbors,--to put men, women and children to the edge of the sword, would indicate that he did not mean to live up to his profession.

In the same way he commands "Thou shalt not steal," and then tells his people how they may spoil their neighbors, destroy their altars and temples and seize their lands.

He says "Thou shalt not commit adultery," and then commands his soldiers to capture the daughters of the Gentiles and keep them forcibly.

He says "Thou shalt not bear false witness," and on every page in the Old Testament, everything base is said of the Egyptians, the Babylonians, the Assyrians, whose character modern research has vindicated, and it has been proved that their civilization was far in advance of that of their accusers.

He says "Thou shalt not covet"--and then shows them the pleasant lands and homes of other peoples, to arouse their covetousness, to satisfy which they wade through a sea of blood from Egypt to the land of Canaan.

How can a being, who does not live up to his profession,--who breaks his own commandments, be our moral ideal or model? In our attempt to reconcile God's conduct with morality, we resort to sophistry. We say God is not bound by the same moral law that we are: He can take away life, land, or property from one man and give it to another. He is above all law. He is good even when he does that which if we did it would make us criminals, and so on. Thus, sophistry becomes a profession. We develop Jesuitical powers; we become intellectual gymnasts, dancing on ropes and splitting hairs to prove that God can break all the moral commandments and still be our model and pattern for morality.

It is a fact, moreover, that close indentification with such a being has contributed to corrupt both the church and the state. Tyrants have claimed the right to violate the moral law when ever it interfered with their personal pleasures. As the anointed of God, kings have tried to answer all protests against their misdeeds by quoting the example of God. Priests have persecuted and exterminated whole races, and have given the example of God who destroys the heretics as their justification. The atmosphere created about us by the consciousness that our moral teacher has himself done the very things he has forbidden is an evil one.

But it may be answered that the Old Testament is no longer the authority it once was, and that the New Testament, or rather, the character of God as revealed in Christ, is our ideal. I have the highest reverence for the beautiful things Jesus is reported to have said. I rejoice that some of his words have made twenty centuries of the world's life fragrant I would sooner die this instant than feel that I am guilty of misrepresenting the facts, of taking a fact and twisting it into an argument for my party. If I have any happiness in life, if I have any self-respect, it is from this source,--that I am honest with the facts.

Yet the teachings of Jesus condensed in his direct command not to resist evil is the very negation of morality. We had recently the yellow fever in New Orleans. What did we do? We organized against it, threw ourselves against it, resisted it. It is the only way physical evil can be destroyed. There was a time when if the cholera came to a city it was said that God had sent it, and it was useless to fight it. Today we don't care who sent it, we don't want it, and shall not have it. We shall resist it. Consider the disclosures of dishonest banking houses and insurance companies. What do we do? We drag the guilty into the light; we examine, we investigate, we expose, we punish, we do not say to these people, you have taken so much of our money, take also what is left. We resist evil. In politics, in commerce, in every department of life we find that in resistance alone is our salvation, and yet Jesus, the Oriental monk, believing the end of the world to be close at hand, would tie our hands, paralyze our will and give evil, physical or moral, a free field. If we do not resist evil we will soon be so incapacitated for effort, so emptied of energy and ambition that we will become the victim not only of every physical pest but also of every moral iniquity. "Resist not" is just what a priest would say to his people, and a king to his subjects. But "resist" is what the liberator would say to his fellowmen.

But are there not examples of the highest morality in the Christian world? Yes, surely, and I am glad to admit it, but it is in spite of the Christian creed. It shows that,--listen to this,--theology is listened to only one day in the week, the other six days we listen to common sense. We are better than our beliefs, better than our creeds. The Asiatic theology which we call inspired has not succeeded in perverting Anglo-Saxon human nature. That is what it proves.

What importance did Jesus attach to the moral life? Let us see. You know that when he was on the cross there were two thieves crucified with him. One of them reviled him, the other said to him "Lord, when thou comest into thy kingdom remember me," and Jesus said, "This day shall thou be with me in Paradise." Ah, indeed!

What had this man done to deserve such sudden glorification?

It gives me pain to say, but say I must, that a greater slight upon morality could not have been placed. Think of saying to a malefactor whom the laws of society were justly punishing,--that his life of guilt and crime, that the thefts and perhaps murders which he had committed,--were all forgiven him. Is the moral life as easy as that? Is it possible that by simply calling Jesus "Lord," and by accepting him as the Son of God, a malefactor can enter heaven, while the man whose whole life has been above reproach must go to perdition if he has not the faith of the malefactor? Why then be moral at all? What is required of men is that they use deferential language to Jesus, call him "Lord"--believe in him, and all their wickedness shall not prevent them from glory. If in one moment, and by a mere profession, a thief and a murderer can step ahead of the righteous and the honest, then the Christian religion is right, righteousness is but "filthy rags." No deeper accusation could be brought against Christianity than that it calls righteousness "filthy rags." But is such a religion--is the example of the malefactor taken to heaven, and his victims permitted to go to everlasting destruction--calculated to command the respect of noble minds? Charles Spurgeon must have had the example of Jesus in mind when he said to his hearers, in the London Tabernacle, that "thirty years of sin will take less than thirty minutes to wipe out in." To him repentance at the last moment was better than a whole life of "godless" morality.