The Abuse of Religious Faith

“Then the devil setteth Him on a pinnacle of the temple, and saith unto Him, If Thou be the Son of God, cast Thyself down, for it is written, He shall give His angels charge concerning Thee.” — Mart. iv. 5, 6.

PROFESSOR TYNDALL, in the interest of

a scientific scepticism, once made a proposal to the religious world. He offered to subject the question of prayer’s value to the test of an experiment. He proposed to have two hospitals, each filled with sick people. He suggested that the one should be made a subject for prayer, and the other not. If the hospital which was made the subject of prayer turned out more convalescents than the other, it would be in favour of the Christian doctrine; if not, it would show the valuelessness of the whole process. Until I heard Professor Tyndall’s proposal, I never understood the

meaning of the second temptation recorded by St. Matthew. But then it all flashed upon me. For the cases are almost identical. The tempter says to Jesus, “You can put the power of your faith to the test of a public experiment. Get up to that pinnacle of the temple at the foot of which the crowd are gathered. You will never have a better opportunity to convince a multitude of the power of prayerful faith. Throw yourself from the height before the eyes of the crowd, and let them see whether God will or will not keep His promise.” In both cases a negative result was expected. And it was right to expect such a result — but not on the ground that the promise of an answer to prayer was a delusion. The truth is, neither the hospital test nor the wilderness test gave room for any prayer at all. The object suggested to Jesus was not really trust in the Father; it was an attempt to dazzle the multitude. The object suggested to the Christian Society was not really the recovery of certain inmates of a hospital; it was an experiment on God. The recovery of the favoured men would have been no more an answer to prayer than the death of the unfavoured. Prayer can have only one object — the relief of want. You can experiment on wireless telegraphy without reference to the message — but not on prayer. The prayer is the message. Not the word but the wish, not the sound but the sympathy, not the kneeling but the need, makes mine a prayer. It must be breathed by brotherhood; it must be lit by love; it must be kindled by kindness; it must be fanned by fellowship; it must be plumed by pity; it must be sustained by sacrifice; it must be winged by the wants of the wilderness.

My soul, let there be no display in thy worship of the Father! If thou cast thyself into His arms, let it not be in the sight of the multitude! Do not feel proud of thy prayers! — they ought to be times of heaviness. Do not say, “The multitude will see what a pinnacle I stand on!” Thy pinnacle should be a point of solitude — a place and hour when thou art alone with God. Have no reason for thy prayer beyond its own necessity! Do not cry to win sympathy, but only because the wells of the heart are overflowing! Do not pray to show piety, but only because the wants of the heart are overwhelming! Do not intercede for a hospital to prove God, but only because, there, the friends of the heart are overburdened! Let thy prayer be the flight of the swallow toward the hope of a summer! Let thy prayer be the song of the lark inspired by the thought of earth’s morning! Let thy prayer be the flow of the stream to bear a draught to the dry, parched land! Let thy prayer be the flash of genius which comes, not because it can, but because it must! Let thy prayer be the spontaneity of love whose intercession for the hospital is prompted, not by human science, but by human sighs — which labours by its own light, pleads by its own pity, worships by its own want, comforts by its own compassion! So shalt thou foil the tempter’s power.