378
THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
In answering this question I must open again the general relations
of the theoretic to the active life.
Knowledge about a thing is not the thing itself. You remember
what Al-Ghazzali told us in the Lecture on Mysticism, — that to
understand the causes of drunkenness, as a physician understands
them, is not to be drunk. A science might come to understand every-
thing about the causes and elements of religion, and might even
decide which elements were qualified, by their general harmony with
other branches of knowledge, to be considered true; and yet the
best man at this science might be the man who found it hardest
to be personally devout. Tout savoir c’est tout pardonner. The name
of Renan would doubtless occur to many persons as an example
of the way in which breadth of knowledge may make one only a
dilettante in possibilities, and blunt the acuteness of one’s living
faith.
1
If religion be a function by which either God’s cause or
man’s cause is to be really advanced, then he who lives the life of
it, however narrowly, is a better servant than he who merely knows
about it, however much. Knowledge about life is one thing; effec-
tive occupation of a place in life, with its dynamic currents passing
through your being, is another.
For this reason, the science of religions may not be an equivalent
for living religion; and if we turn to the inner difficulties of such a
science, we see that a point comes when she must drop the purely
theoretic attitude, and either let her knots remain uncut, or have
them cut by active faith. To see this, suppose that we have our sci-
ence of religions constituted as a matter of fact. Suppose that she has
assimilated all the necessary historical material and distilled out of
it as its essence the same conclusions which I myself a few moments
ago pronounced. Suppose that she agrees that religion, wherever it
is an active thing, involves a belief in ideal presences, and a belief
that in our prayerful communion with them,
2
work is done, and
something real comes to pass. She has now to exert her critical
activity, and to decide how far, in the light of other sciences and in
that of general philosophy, such beliefs can be considered true.
Dogmatically to decide this is an impossible task. Not only are
the other sciences and the philosophy still far from being completed,
1
Compare, e.g., the quotation from Renan on p. 34, above.
2
“Prayerful” taken in the broader sense explained above on pp. 358 ff.
CONCLUSIONS
379
but in their present state we find them full of conflicts.
The sciences
of nature know nothing of spiritual presences, and on the whole
hold no practical commerce whatever with the idealistic concep-
tions towards which general philosophy inclines. The scientist,
so-called, is, during his scientific hours at least, so materialistic that
one may well say that on the whole the influence of science goes
against the notion that religion should be recognized at all. And
this antipathy to religion finds an echo within the very science
of religions itself. The cultivator of this science has to become
acquainted with so many groveling and horrible superstitions that a
presumption easily arises in his mind that any belief that is religious
probably is false. In the “prayerful communion” of savages with such
mumbo-jumbos of deities as they acknowledge, it is hard for us to
see what genuine spiritual work — even though it were work relative
only to their dark savage obligations — can possibly be done.
The consequence is that the conclusions of the science of religions
are as likely to be adverse as they are to be favorable to the claim that
the essence of religion is true. There is a notion in the air about us
that religion is probably only an anachronism, a case of “survival,”
an atavistic relapse into a mode of thought which humanity in
its more enlightened examples has outgrown; and this notion our
religious anthropologists at present do little to counteract.
This view is so widespread at the present day that I must con-
sider it with some explicitness before I pass to my own conclusions.
Let me call it the “Survival theory,” for brevity’s sake.
The pivot round which the religious life, as we have traced it,
revolves, is the interest of the individual in his private personal
destiny. Religion, in short, is a monumental chapter in the his-
tory of human egotism. The gods believed in — whether by crude
savages or by men disciplined intellectually — agree with each
other in recognizing personal calls. Religious thought is carried on
in terms of personality, this being, in the world of religion, the one
fundamental fact. To-day, quite as much as at any previous age, the
religious individual tells you that the divine meets him on the basis
of his personal concerns.
Science, on the other hand, has ended by utterly repudiating
the personal point of view. She catalogues her elements and records
her laws indifferent as to what purpose may be shown forth by
them, and constructs her theories quite careless of their bearing on