One Sunday morning, about the middle
of June, the large and fashionable congregation which
filled the church of St. Chrysostom, South Kensington,
a church which will be recognised as one of the very
“highest” in London, and which, to use
a not altogether unsuitable term, “draws”
all the year round by reason of the splendour of its
ritual, as well as the simple earnest eloquence of
its clergy, was startled by the preaching of such
a sermon as no member of it had ever heard before.
The preacher for the morning was announced
to be the Rev. Father Vane, a name which meant nothing
to more than about half a dozen members of the congregation,
but which every man and woman in the church had some
cause to remember by the time the service was over.
Father Baldwin, as the vicar of St.
Chrysostom’s was familiarly known, was a very
old friend of Father Philip’s, and Vane’s
appearance as preacher that morning was the result
of certain correspondence which had taken place between
them, and of several long and earnest conversations
which he had had with Vane himself.
The moment that Vane appeared in the
pulpit, that strange rustling sound which always betokens
an access of sensation in a church, became distinctly
audible from the side where the women sat. As
he stood there in cassock, cotta and white, gold-embroidered
stole, he looked, as many a maid, and matron too,
said afterwards, almost too beautiful to be human.
Both as boy and man he had always been strikingly handsome,
but the long weeks and months of prayer and fasting,
and the constant struggle of the soul against the
flesh, had refined and spiritualised him. To
speak of an everyday man of the world, however good-looking
he may be, as beautiful is rather to ridicule him
than otherwise, but when such a man as Vane passes
through such an ordeal as his had been, the word beauty
may be justly used in the sense in which the feminine
portion of the congregation of St. Chrysostom’s
unanimously used it that morning.
There was a hush of expectation as
he opened a small Bible lying on the desk in front
of him. Then he raised his right hand and made
the sign of the Cross.
“In the name of
the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,
Amen!”
The words were not hastily and inaudibly
muttered as they too often are by the clergy of the
High Anglican persuasion. They rang out as clearly
as the notes of a bell through the silence of the crowded
church, and the congregation recognised instantly
that he possessed, at least, the first qualification
of a great preacher.
Then he took up his Bible, and said
in a quite ordinary conversational tone:
“It will be well if those who
wish to follow what I am about to say will take their
Bibles and turn to the fifth chapter of the Gospel
according to St. Matthew.”
The opening was as unpromising as
it was unconventional, but more than half the congregation
obeyed, and when the rustling of leaves had subsided,
he began to read the Sermon on the Mount.
When the first thrill of astonishment
had passed, it was noticed that, after the first few
verses, he ceased to look at the Bible. Every
member of the congregation had heard the words over
and over again, but they had never heard them as they
heard them now. It was nothing like the formal
reading of the lessons to which they had been accustomed,
and as the clear, pure tones of his voice rang through
the church, and, as his eyes and face lighted up with
the radiance of an almost divine enthusiasm, there
were some in his audience who began to think that he
might well have been a re-incarnation of one of those
disciples of the Master who heard the words as they
came from His lips that day on the Judean hillside.
He went on verse after verse, never
missing a word, and unconsciously emphasising each
passage with gestures, slight in themselves, but eloquent
and forcible in their exact suitability to the words,
and very soon every man and woman in the church was
listening to him, not only with rapt attention, but
with a growing feeling of uneasiness and apprehension
as to what was to follow.
At length he came to the twenty-third
verse of the seventh chapter:
“And then will
I profess unto them, I never knew you; depart from
me, ye that work iniquity.”
There was an emphasis upon the last
few words which sent a thrill of emotion, and, in
many cases, one of angry expectation, through the
crowded congregation. It was one of the wealthiest,
and most fashionable in London, but, saving a comparatively
few really earnest souls, it was composed for the
most part of idlers and loungers, who came to St.
Chrysostom’s partly because it was one of the
most fashionable churches in the West End, partly
because it was the proper thing to attend Church on
Sunday, and partly because the music, and singing
and preaching were all so good, and the elaborate ceremonial
was so perfectly performed, that it afforded the means
of spending a few hours on Sunday in a very pleasant
way.
The young preacher looked at the crowd
of well-dressed men and women for a few moments in
silence, as though he would give them time to realise
the tremendous solemnity of the words they had just
heard. There was dead, breathless silence at
first, and then came a rustling sound, mingled with
one of deep breathing. Then he began again in
the same direct, conversational tone in which he had
asked them to take their Bibles.
“I am addressing,” he
said, in a low, clear tone which could be heard as
distinctly at the church doors as it could by those
immediately under the pulpit, “an audience which
is composed of men and women who are, nominally, at
least, Christians, and now I am going to ask you, every
man and woman of you, to ask your own souls the simple
question, whether you really are Christians, or not.
“A good many of you, I daresay,
will be a little startled, perhaps some of you may
even be offended by the suggestion of such a question.
With every regard for your feelings as brother men
and sister women, I sincerely hope you will be.
My reason for hoping that is very simple. The
vast majority of people in Christian countries are
Christians simply because they have been born of Christian
parents, just as they are Protestants or Catholics
because their parents were such before them, and their
early training has strongly predisposed their minds
to the acceptance too often the blind acceptance of
a certain set of doctrines which, with all reverence,
are by themselves of no more use for the purpose of
saving a human soul from eternal damnation than the
multiplication table would be. These doctrines,
these creeds, are aids to salvation, most potent aids,
but they are not essentials, since of themselves they
cannot save.
“It is far too often taken for
granted that, because a man has been brought up in
a Christian family, has been baptised into the Church
of Christ, and has later on been admitted into the
communion of that Church, that, therefore, he is justified
in believing himself to be a Christian. He has,
as we of the Church Catholic and Universal fervently
believe, been placed in the path which leads to salvation.
His vision has been cleared from the mists of error.
The Church, in the fulfilment of her holy mission,
has caused the white light of heaven to shine upon
his eyes. His feet have been set in the strait
gate and on the narrow way which leads to eternal
life, but not all the priests from Abraham down to
our own day, nor all the Churches that ever were founded
can do any more. The way must be travelled by
the man himself, his own eyes must see the light,
his own feet must tread the way, no matter how steep
or difficult it may be or that man has no
more right to call himself a Christian than any worshipper
of any of the false gods whose reign has vanished
from the earth.
“It was for the purpose of bringing
this most solemn truth, this most solemn and momentous
of all truth home to you that I began by repeating
the words which the Greatest of all Preachers pronounced
for the guidance of those who should come after Him.”
He paused, and took up his Bible again.
Meanwhile, a few people, both men and women, whose
dress and appearance bore unmistakable signs of worldly
wealth, got up and walked out of the church.
Vane watched them go, and as he did
so the rest saw a complete change of expression come
over his countenance. His eyes grew sombre and
sorrowful, his lips tightened, and something like a
frown gathered upon his brow. He not only waited
in the midst of an almost unnatural silence until
they had gone, but he went on waiting for some moments
longer as though he would give anyone else an opportunity
of leaving the church if they desired to do so.
No one stirred. The look which he turned upon
them from the pulpit seemed like a spell which held
them to their seats. Then his lips opened, and
they heard his voice, tinged with an infinite sadness,
saying:
“’The young
man saith unto him: All these things have I kept
from
my youth up. What
lack I yet?
“’Jesus
saith unto him: If thou wouldst be perfect go
and sell that
thou hast and give to
the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in
heaven, and come and
follow me.
“’But when
the young man heard that saying he went away sorrowful,
for he had great possessions.
“’Then said
Jesus unto his disciples: Verily I say unto you
that a
rich man shall hardly
enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.’”
Then there came another pause, during
which his listeners seemed almost afraid to breathe,
so strong was the spell of apprehension and expectancy
which he had laid upon them, and he went on:
“You have, everyone of you,
heard those words read and spoken scores and hundreds
of times. Has it ever struck you that they are
words which, if you are a Christian man or woman,
you must believe to be the words of God himself, spoken
by the lips of Infallible Wisdom, and inspired by
that Omniscience which sees you sitting here in this
London church as plainly as It saw that other congregation
which was assembled that day on the slope of the Mount
of Olives, and which reads your hearts at this moment
as It read theirs then? If you do not believe
that, then it follows that you do not believe in the
mission or the teaching of Christ. You do not
believe that He spoke the truth when He told the young
man that it was not only necessary to keep the commandments,
as he had done from his youth up; but that it was
also necessary for him to cease to be a rich man,
and to distribute his wealth in relieving the necessities
of the poor.
“If you believe that Christ
is very God of very God, as you say every Sunday of
your lives, you cannot escape the obligation which
those words put upon you except at the peril of your
immortal souls. Remember that it is not by your
faiths and beliefs, or by the doctrines you have held
that you will be judged when you stand before the Last
Tribunal. These are but instruments to be used
well or ill, but the final appeal will come to your
works. The last question that will be asked of
you will not be ‘What creed have you believed?’
or ’What Church have you belonged to?’
but ‘What have you done?’ and on the answer
to that, as recorded in the books of God, will depend
your fate for all eternity.
“Remember the words, ’Not
everyone that saith unto me Lord, Lord, shall enter
into the Kingdom of Heaven, but he that doeth the will
of my Father which is in Heaven.’
“Remember, too, that when you
join in the services of the Church, and when you partake
of her Sacraments, you are simply saying ’Lord,
Lord’ a very good and righteous thing
to say; but of no more use or benefit to your souls
than an echo from a blank wall, unless you also do
the will of Him who is in Heaven.
“I know that there are many
specious sayings invented by those who have reasons
of their own for trying to prove that when the Son
of God spoke these words He didn’t mean what
He said; and those who have invented these things
are amongst the worst enemies of God and His Church
on earth, no matter whether they say these lying words
in the drawing-room or from the pulpit. They
seek to comfort their consciences and the consciences
of such as you by saying that times have changed since
these words were uttered; that it would be quite impossible
to put a literal interpretation upon them now.
“Now the man who tells his fellow
men that, no matter what his position in the world,
is a liar and a hypocrite, and, what is worse, he is
a maker of hypocrites, for it is my duty to tell you
that every man and woman who professes Christianity
before the world on Sunday and during the week disobeys
the command of Christ as set forth here in His own
words, is, consciously or unconsciously, a liar and
a hypocrite also.
“Let us see what these sayings
look like when tested by ordinary logic, by that faculty
of distinguishing the right from the wrong, the true
from the false, which is perhaps the greatest of all
God’s gifts to men.
“’Times have changed since
the Son of God delivered the Sermon on the Mount.’
That is one of those half-truths which are infinitely
worse than a lie. Times have changed.
That is to say mortal men and mortal manners have
changed; but does that warrant us in believing that
the mind and will of the Immutable God have changed
too; that what Christ himself declared to be fatal
to salvation two thousand years ago, is compatible
with salvation now? That what was unlawful then
is lawful now in short, that the Omniscient
God, in whose eyes a thousand years are as one day
and one day as a thousand years, who read the minds
of men then as He reads them now, has altered the
decrees of Eternal Justice and changed Eternal Truth
into a lie?
“If you believe these people,
then you must believe that too. That Christ himself
foresaw, as He must have done, that such false teachers
as these would arise both in His Church and outside
it is clearly proved by His own words:
“’Many will say to me
in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in
Thy name and in Thy name have cast out devils, and
in Thy name done many wonderful works?
“’And then I will profess
unto them: I never knew you, depart from me ye
that work iniquity.’
“Remember that in that day when
these words will be spoken hypocrisy and self-deceit
will have become impossibilities. It will not
be possible then for you to persuade yourselves, as
no doubt you do now, that you are good Christians,
or that you are Christians at all, because you believe
certain doctrines and carry out certain ecclesiastical
observances. You will see your own souls naked
then, and the eye of Eternal and Immutable Justice
will see them too and unless you have proved
that you have obedience as well as faith; that you
have not only believed but also obeyed, you will most
assuredly hear those words ’I never knew you;
depart from me ye that work iniquity!’
“But,” he went on again,
after another little pause during which some of his
audience began to look round at each other with something
like fear in their eyes, “do not forget that
there is another course open to you. It may be
that the things of this world, the conventions of society,
the fear of poverty and the love of wealth, have taken
such a hold upon you, that, although you dare not
even confess it to yourselves, you prefer these things
to obedience to the Divine command and all that it
may bring.
“You have it in perfectly plain
language and on the highest possible authority that
you cannot serve God and Mammon. Those are no
empty words, they are one of the most solemn pronouncements
ever made, and they affect you here and to all eternity.
So long as you go on striving to increase your wealth
by those means which must nowadays be employed to
make money, you are not and you cannot be Christians.
Those are harsh words, and yet if they are not true,
the words of Christ himself are false. There
is no escape from this dilemma, and if you think that
devoting one day a week to the nominal service of God
and six to the real, practical service of Mammon,
you earn the right to call yourselves Christians,
that is to say, followers of Christ, you are merely
practising a pitiful piece of self-deception which
would be ludicrous were its consequences not so solemn.
“But, as I have said, there
is another course open to you, a course which, terrible
as it is, is better than the one that you are now
following, because it is more honest. Be honest
with yourselves and each other, and, what is of more
consequence, be honest with God too. A well-known
agnostic lecturer once said that no god could afford
to damn an honest man, and I am not sure that he was
not right; but if the words of Christ were not the
empty mouthings of a charlatan or a dreamer, there
cannot be the slightest doubt about the fate of the
hypocrite. Remember that on the only occasion
on which the gentle nature of our Lord was roused
to anger he denounced in the most terrible language
that human ears have ever heard those whom He called
hypocrites, and, therefore, I say to you, at whatever
cost, either to your pockets or to your souls, for
you can take your choice which, cease to be hypocrites.
“Cease this pitiful pretence
which, though it may deceive yourselves, certainly
does not deceive Him from whom no secrets are hid.
If you cannot forsake the service of Mammon, if you
really are so tightly bound by his golden chains to
the things of this world that you cannot or will not
break loose from the entrancing bondage, then, in the
name of honesty, say so, say to yourselves and to
your fellow men: ’I cannot do this thing.
If I must give up the service of Mammon before I can
call myself the servant of God, then I cannot become
the servant of God, and I will make a hypocrite and
a liar of myself no longer.’ Then at least
you would be honest and truthful, honest with yourselves
and with your brother men and with your sister women
and with God. You would, as I believe, and as
you are now trying to make yourselves believe, have
made the wrong choice, a choice whose consequences
must inevitably face you on the other side of the
grave, but you would, at least, be able to face the
tribunal of Eternal Justice without shame, and, with
all reverence I say it, I, as a Christian man, believe
that for this reason the infinite mercy of God would
find a means of salvation for you.
“Be honest. For God’s
sake and your own, be honest, even though in becoming
so, you cease to be what is commonly called respectable.
If you really cannot serve God with a whole soul and
without reservation, give up the attempt to serve
Him and say so before all men. It would be a
terrible thing to do, and yet, awful as such a step
would be, it might be the first one towards your ultimate
salvation. The angels might weep, but I hardly
think that the devils would laugh, for the worst enemy
of the Father of Lies is an honest man or woman.
The gentle heart of Jesus might bleed for you, but
Eternal Justice would respect you and give you your
due. Once more, speaking not only as a priest
of God, but as your fellow man, let me as man implore
you to be honest, and as priest, warn you that the
penalty of hypocrisy is eternal damnation. You
have no choice in the matter. One or the other
you must be, and you cannot possibly be both.
Wherefore I tell you that whether you elect to be the
servant of God or the servant of Mammon, you must let
all men know plainly which you are. If you are
reasonable beings you cannot believe in yourselves
or in each other, unless you do this. Remember
that, however fondly you may be deceiving yourselves,
you cannot blind the eyes of Omniscience. It
is a hard thing to say, and yet it is only the plain
truth given to us by the lips of Christ himself, that
you cannot believe in God unless you do the things
which He says. Living your present lives you
do not do them, and therefore you are not only infidels
and atheists living without God, but you are worse you
are hypocrites, and woe unto you!
“I tell you, speaking as solemnly
as a priest of God can do in His house and in His
presence that I would rather see this and every church
in Christendom attended by a score of people of
real Christians whose daily lives throughout the week
were really guided and sanctified by obedience to
the teachings of the Master, than I would see them
crowded with throngs of men and women like you, whose
acts from Monday morning to Saturday night consistently
belie every word that your lips utter here in the
house of God and in the presence of the Holy Trinity.
“No doubt, there is already
anger against me in many of your hearts on account
of what I have believed it my duty to say to you.
I would not willingly incur the hatred of any man
or woman, and yet I shall not altogether regret that
anger, because it will be proof that my words have
reached, not only your ears, but your hearts.
I have spoken plainly and without regard to the conventionalities
either of the world or of the pulpit, and I have done
so because I believe that conventionality is the foe
of truth, and therefore the enemy of religion.
This, remember, is a subject of such awful solemnity,
laden as it is with the eternal fate of every human
soul that is baptised into the Church of God, that
I have found it my duty to make it plain to you at
any cost.
“When you leave this church,
send your horses and your carriages away and walk
home, for you are deliberately breaking the law of
God by using them on the Sabbath, and, remember, that
he who breaks one jot or tittle of the law, shall
be guilty of the whole, and, instead of going to church
parade in the park, you women, to excite the admiration
of the men and the envy of other women by the beauty
of your dress, or the splendour of your equipage,
and you men, to begin the sordid work of to-morrow
before you have finished the holy task of to-day, go
home and take your bibles into the solitude of your
own chamber. Spend the rest of God’s day
with God Himself. And that you may do this good
thing well and truly, and find help to choose that
way of life which leadeth to eternal salvation, May
the peace of God which passeth all understanding be
with you now henceforth and for ever, Amen.”
He raised his right hand in benediction,
turned towards the altar and made the sign of the
Cross, and as he came down the pulpit steps and walked
up the chancel to his place, some of those who saw
him, said afterwards, that there was a light on his
face which they had never seen on a human face before.