210. What are the three evils originating from the evolution of the foreseeing mind?
211. What are the two subdivisions of the limitation to which our active tendencies are subject?
212. Why does the third class of these evils not exist in small communities?
213. What are the two objections to the theory which regards the division of society into masters and slaves as entirely satisfactory? Which of these objections is the stronger one?
§ 24. RELIGION
Aid against the evils resulting from the limits of knowledge is sought by the human mind in religion. When fire threatens our property, we think of water; when the enemy presses upon us in battle, we think of our comrade. By analogy, when we are under the pressure of uncertainty, in the terror of a great danger, we think of some person or some power that might aid us. We have seen previously that primitive man regards everything as animated and every event as caused by motives like his own. He regards himself as a double being made up of a heavy body and an exceedingly light, shadow-like thing, a soul. In his dreams he recognizes clearly the independence of the two: the soul leaves the body, flies to known and unknown regions, and experiences there the strangest things. Likewise in death. To-day a certain person talks, moves about, does good or harm; to-morrow the same person lies stiff. It is true that one cannot see the cause of this change, but the simplest explanation is obviously that something, the bearer of his powers, has escaped from the body and now rests invisibly elsewhere. Furthermore, are there not those who feel that they are possessed of a demon who compels them to roll about on the ground in convulsions or to attack other people?
Accordingly, man populates everything between heaven and earth, animals and plants, rocks and logs, lakes and streams, the phenomena of the weather, and the constellations, with demons, ghosts, departed souls, specters. These beings are thought of as possessing human-like powers, many of them, however, far mightier than man, handling all those things of which nature consists in a manner similar to man’s handling of his own property. Some have asserted that man animates the world because of an irrepressible desire for theoretical explanation. But this is scarcely true. Primitive man has no such longing for theories. He does it simply for the sake of his practical interests: in order to make use of the things of nature, he must first comprehend them; and what manner of comprehending them would be preferable to humanizing them? If the things are like men of his acquaintance, he knows how to obtain their favor, their aid. His belief in these demons is a practical belief like the belief of a mother in the future of her son. These demons must exist, for he would have to give up the struggle for life, perplexed, helpless, if they did not exist--if the world were a mass of incomprehensible objects.
Naturally he distinguishes two kinds of demons, as he distinguishes two kinds of men, good and bad. Those who are malicious and hostile bring all the distress of diseases and terrible events, from which he cannot defend himself by his own power. The best one can hope to obtain from these demons is that they stop exerting their evil influence. Man lives in constant fear of them. The demons of the other kind are friendly and helpful. They assist man in his defense against the fiends and in his fight with other men; and they permit him to participate in their knowledge of the future. They are reliable. One is grateful to them and loves them. In the most primitive stage of mankind fear prevails, and therefore also the belief in harmful ghosts and demons. On a higher level of culture, advancing insight into the causal relations of natural events brings about more self-reliance, more hope, and consequently also a growing belief in benevolent demons. Both fear and love, however, remain characteristic of the attitude of man toward his gods.
In order to obtain the good will of the gods, man naturally treats them as he would treat his neighbors. He must earnestly pray to them, flatter them, perhaps also threaten them, promise gifts in exchange for their aid, vow continued faith and obedience, especially make them presents in advance. Prayer, vows, and sacrifice are the means of approaching them. Soon another thought becomes prevalent. In cases where the influence of demons seems particularly conspicuous, in mental diseases, certain persons show themselves much more skilful than the majority in establishing relations with them and thus curing these diseases. One naturally employs these persons in one’s relations to the gods. The medicine man becomes a priest. And he soon establishes himself firmly in this position by inventing mysterious ceremonies with which he alone is familiar, and by acquiring the ability to read and interpret sacred books. His authority, however, rests on his doing what the people expect from their gods: he must possess prophecy and witchcraft. Even the apostles prove their legitimacy by prophesying and performing miraculous cures.
Fear and misery are the parents of religion; and, although it is propagated in the main through authority, it would long ago have become extinct, if it were not born anew out of them all the time. In times of need and oppression religion grows strong. The churches are full, pilgrimages are common, in wars or epidemics. In battle, in disease, aboard a sinking ship, many a one learns to pray. Some fear or some need is always present. Even the highest wisdom and power can only repress, never exterminate these. Therefore they have always brought forth religion and will always do so, provided one does not clumsily attempt to change human nature.
Prayer and sacrifice are not invariably followed by success. But aid requested from human beings also is often refused, so that explanations for the lack of success are not wanting. Perhaps the prayer was not fervent enough, the sacrifice not offered in the correct manner or at the right place. Or the supplicant has offended the god; it is only to be expected that he is thus punished for the offense. Or the god, knowing his most secret failings, wishes to test his faith, his piety, in case all worldly goods and even health are lost. The gods are all-wise: who could understand them and their actions completely? Now and then, when the pious continue to suffer and the godless to prosper, religion is exposed to a serious danger. But religious faith has found the solution of this problem, not everywhere on earth, but here and there; and out of a secret doctrine of certain sects of ancient Greece this solution has become a gospel spread all over the earth: even that hope which remains unsatisfied at the time of death will find its realization. Man’s soul is eternal, is only temporarily united with the body, and when separated from it will continue to live forever. The pious must prepare himself for the future life by turning away from bodily pleasure toward God, by suffering. The godless, who has failed to prepare himself, finds eternal punishment waiting for him.
Under primitive cultural conditions, when everybody has to do every kind of labor for himself, the same régime is applied to the gods. They do not differ much in their abilities, although one can do this, the other that, somewhat better. They are an unorganized crowd like mankind, fighting each other and forming alliances for this purpose. When human societies become established, the gods become differentiated. There are masters and servants, various professions. Complications arising from such occurrences as subjection of one nation to another and a consequent assimilation of their religions, change but little the trend of this development. Of greater influence are the growth of morality and the advance of scientific knowledge.
When man establishes a moral ideal for himself, he applies it to his gods. His gods become moral examples. They no longer require bloody sacrifices, but a clean heart and good deeds. And since there is only one morality, and morality is the chief attribute of Deity, there can be only one God. All those great religious teachers who contributed to the moral development of religion, the Jewish prophets, Zoroaster, Plato, accepted monotheism.
When scientific knowledge advances, when more and more of the phenomena of nature are found to obey simple laws, daring philosophers assert and convince others that all natural phenomena obey such laws, that nothing in nature depends on the whims of human-like wills. Religion, then, seems to be deprived of its foundations. If God does not arbitrarily interfere with the laws of nature, how can any aid come from him? However, the need of religion remains, and religion adapts itself to the new views of the world. The highest form of religion is the outcome of this development. Prayer, then, has a purely mental value for him who prays. It gives him hope, confidence, courage, and thus he succeeds in accomplishing that of which he seemed incapable without aid. The witchcraft of the priest is reduced to a purely mental influence. In the sacrament he brings about a sanctification of the mind. God, far from being lost from the world, is regarded as the world itself, the source from which every phenomenon of nature springs. And again religion can give man what he longs for, protection from the overpowering unknown, peace for the restless heart.
But life is like a hydra: as fast as one head is hewn off, two others grow. Man overcomes the depression caused by his feeling of impotence by the help of religion, and immediately has two other troubles besetting him.
(1) It is natural that of all the creations of mind religion possesses the strongest inertia. God is unchangeable. But knowledge is changeable: our ways of thinking of the world differ greatly from those of a thousand, five hundred, or a hundred years ago. Much knowledge has become attached to religion. Shall it remain unchanged on that account? The resulting disharmony has been felt at all times, in varying degrees of intensity. The representatives of science cannot help contradicting the faith of their ancestors; and the priests profess that they alone possess true knowledge, that the knowledge of the scientists is merely a mass of hypotheses. Bitter was the struggle about the geocentric system, and no less bitter more recently was the opposition to the theory of evolution. During the later centuries of antiquity scientists tried to comprehend the influence of the sun on plant life by conceiving its power as emanating and yet constantly remaining in its former strength at the point of its origin. The early Christian theologists were very modern in their scientific theories. Could they compare God with anything else better than with the heavenly body on which all earthly life depends? So they developed the conception of emanations flowing from God without diminishing his former powers, that is, the Christian doctrine of the Trinity. Other religions of the time accepted similar emanation doctrines: the Philonic philosophy recognized a twofoldness, the Neo-Platonic a fourfoldness of God. To-day every schoolboy is taught that the sun cannot produce any effect on earth without losing so much of its energy. The ancient theory of emanations has long ceased to have any scientific significance. But the formula exists, and is still thought by many to be the basal concept of the Christian religion, so that the dissension is endless.
(2) Religion is a weapon in the struggle for preservation for him who possesses it; but it soon becomes a weapon also for the others. It is a weapon for the priest, who uses it as the physician uses his knowledge to make a living. There would be little trouble on this account. But religion is, naturally and unfortunately, a mighty weapon in the hands of the masters defending their positions against the slaves. Religion gives peace, quiescence, to the human heart. Religion perhaps teaches that the splendor of wealth is insignificant, worthless; that the poor are better off in the future, eternal life, than those who are now rich. Religion perhaps even teaches that those who do not believe this will be severely punished in the next life. This is not the original meaning of the doctrine--that the wretched should remain wretched; it was meant merely to comfort them in their distress. But the doctrine obviously permits this application, and so the masters have always eagerly adopted religion as one of their safest supports, far superior to brutal force, since it does not incite revolutionary reaction. “Throne and altar” is a motto of kings. When the servants recognize this effect of religion, they naturally tend to free themselves of it, and tremendous conflicts result for human life.
Will mind succeed in overcoming these difficulties by a new form of adaptation? We cannot tell how, since thus far it has not succeeded.
