RELIGION AND NEUROLOGY
15
We are surely all familiar in a general way with this method of
discrediting states of mind for which we have an antipathy. We all
use it to some degree in criticising persons whose states of mind
we regard as overstrained. But when other people criticise our own
more exalted soul-flights by calling them “nothing but” expressions
of our organic disposition, we feel outraged and hurt, for we know
that, whatever be our organism’s peculiarities, our mental states
Majesty pours into our mouth, and that we should relish the sweetness without even know-
ing that it cometh from the Lord.” And again: “Consider the little infants, united and joined
to the breasts of their nursing mothers, you will see that from time to time they press
themselves closer by little starts to which the pleasure of sucking prompts them. Even so,
during its orison, the heart united to its God oftentimes makes attempts at closer union by
movements during which it presses closer upon the divine sweetness.” Chemin de la Perfec-
tion, ch. xxxi.; Amour de Dieu, vii. ch. i.
In fact, one might almost as well interpret religion as a perversion of the respiratory
function. The Bible is full of the language of respiratory oppression: “Hide not thine ear at
my breathing; my groaning is not hid from thee; my heart panteth, my strength faileth me;
my bones are hot with my roaring all the night long; as the hart panteth after the waterbrooks,
so my soul panteth after thee, O my God.” God’s Breath in Man is the title of the chief work
of our best known American mystic (Thomas Lake Harris); and in certain non-Christian
countries the foundation of all religious discipline consists in regulation of the inspiration
and expiration.
These arguments are as good as much of the reasoning one hears in favor of the sexual
theory. But the champions of the latter will then say that their chief argument has no ana-
logue elsewhere. The two main phenomena of religion, namely, melancholy and conversion,
they will say, are essentially phenomena of adolescence, and therefore synchronous with the
development of sexual life. To which the retort again is easy. Even were the asserted synchrony
unrestrictedly true as a fact (which it is not), it is not only the sexual life, but the entire
higher mental life which awakens during adolescence. One might then as well set up the
thesis that the interest in mechanics, physics, chemistry, logic, philosophy, and sociology,
which springs up during adolescent years along with that in poetry and religion, is also a
perversion of the sexual instinct: — but that would be too absurd. Moreover, if the argument
from synchrony is to decide, what is to be done with the fact that the religions age par
excellence would seem to be old age, when the uproar of the sexual life is past?
The plain truth is that to interpret religion one must in the end look at the immediate
content of the religious consciousness. The moment one does this, one sees how wholly
disconnected it is in the main from the content of the sexual consciousness. Everything
about the two things differs, objects, moods, faculties concerned, and acts impelled to. Any
general assimilation is simply impossible: what we find most often is complete hostility and
contrast. If now the defenders of the sex-theory say that this makes no difference to their
thesis; that without the chemical contributions which the sex-organs make to the blood, the
brain would not be nourished so as to carry on religious activities, this final proposition may
be true or not true; but at any rate it has become profoundly uninstructive: we can deduce
no consequences from it which help us to interpret religion’s meaning or value. In this sense
the religious life depends just as much upon the spleen, the pancreas, and the kidneys as on
the sexual apparatus, and the whole theory has lost its point in evaporating into a vague
general assertion of the dependence, somehow, of the mind upon the body.
16
THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
have their substantive value as revelations of the living truth; and
we wish that all this medical materialism could be made to hold its
tongue.
Medical materialism seems indeed a good appellation for the too
simple-minded system of thought which we are considering. Medical
materialism finishes up Saint Paul by calling his vision on the road
to Damascus a discharging lesion of the occipital cortex, he being
an epileptic. It snuffs out Saint Teresa as an hysteric, Saint Francis
of Assisi as an hereditary degenerate. George Fox’s discontent with
the shams of his age, and his pining for spiritual veracity, it treats
as a symptom of a disordered colon. Carlyle’s organ-tones of misery
it accounts for by a gastro-duodenal catarrh. All such mental over-
tensions, it says, are, when you come to the bottom of the matter,
mere affairs of diathesis (auto-intoxications most probably), due to
the perverted action of various glands which physiology will yet
discover.
And medical materialism then thinks that the spiritual authority
of all such personages is successfully undermined.
1
Let us ourselves look at the matter in the largest possible way.
Modern psychology, finding definite psycho-physical connections
to hold good, assumes as a convenient hypothesis that the depen-
dence of mental states upon bodily conditions must be thorough-
going and complete. If we adopt the assumption, then of course
what medical materialism insists on must be true in a general way,
if not in every detail: Saint Paul certainly had once an epileptoid,
if not an epileptic seizure; George Fox was an hereditary degenerate;
Carlyle was undoubtedly auto-intoxicated by some organ or other,
no matter which, — and the rest. But now, I ask you, how can such
an existential account of facts of mental history decide in one way
or another upon their spiritual significance? According to the general
postulate of psychology just referred to, there is not a single one
of our states of mind, high or low, healthy or morbid, that has not
some organic process as its condition. Scientific theories are organ-
ically conditioned just as much as religious emotions are; and if we
only knew the facts intimately enough, we should doubtless see
“the liver” determining the dicta of the sturdy atheist as decisively
1
For a first-rate example of medical-materialist reasoning, see an article on “les Variétés
du Type dévot,” by Dr. Binet-Sanglé, in the Revue de l’Hypnotisme, xiv. 161.