CHURCH DRAMA

Southland Times, Issue 22131, 27 September 1933, Page 2

CHURCH DRAMA

TEACHING OF DR ANGUS. PRESBYTERIAN DOCTRINE. GROWN MEN IN TEARS. Melbourne," September 16. The ghosts of the Covenanters, shadow hand on shadow sword, shadow hand on Bible—unrevised version—nodded grimly in the Assembly Hall, Collins street, yesterday, when Australian Presbyterianism rolled back the years, and debated whether the Christ of Dr Angus was the Christ of his fathers. Emotion that to an outsider might appear maudlin, passion, bitterness, unyielding dogma, charge and coun-ter-charge, yet always sincerity, clashed under the coloured windows of St. Andrew and his followers as the General Assembly, the supreme Federal body of the church, listened to the Aye and the No of whether the N.S.W. Assembly was correct in adjudging Dr Angus innocent of denominational heresy. Christ crucified as a sin offering, or as a martyrdom ... Christ risen from the dead, in _ the spirit or also in the body, a spiritual or a material resurrection . . .

“Mr Moderator, broken-hearted fathers of students have called on me, and have spoken to me with tears in their eyes of the baneful influence of the teachings of this man . . .”

Passion and Emotion. So it went on. The roll and burr of gloomy Scottish kirks of a century ago; the passion of Inverness _ mixing with the emotion of Dumfriesshire, both mellowed a little by Australian sunshine; the hardness and the generosity of Ulster, battling urgently, vitally, for this and that conception of the Son of God, and the degree even of that Sonship. And above, looking down from the costly stained glass window, Christ, surrounded by children. You must know Presbyterianism to understand its Assembly, and the passion and bitter sincerity of these clergymen, ripe in years and experience. You must know of the anger and the battle that was waged in Scots Churcn, here, a decade or so ago, before it was decided that the pulpit should not be shifted forward a few paces. Every year, in the Assembly Hall, Collins street, some question or other crops up to rouse impassioned, angry debate.

Some question of little moment to the layman debated fiercely under the shadow of the huge organ pipes, by a gathering whose fathers fought even the introduction of the organ, into the church, as they fought the singing of hymns, and, before that, the accompaniment of even the Psalms with music. . .

Understand that, and you may vision the scene yesterday, when bearded men sobbed out their horror, their shock of soul, at what they regarded as the violation of the faith that had been theirs since childhood. Subdued Mood.

The General Assembly met in a subdued atmosphere, in the legal and parliamentary fashion of meetings so typical of the Presbyterian Church, where rules of debate and the Moderator’s bell have replaced, to a great extent, ritual and surplice. Everyday psalm and prayers and then—“ The parties to the appeal are called to the Bar of the House.”

Five men, grave and elderly, sat to the left of the Moderator. They were the appellants contesting the decision of the New South Wales Assembly, which held that Dr Angus “maintained in his teaching the doctrine of the Presbyterian Church.” First came the Rev. A. J. Carter, tall and bearded, distinguished only in his sincerity, slurring his words in his anxiety to .denounce this calamity which had come to disturb the faith of their fathers. He was critical of Dr Angus, and all his words, critical of the New South Wales Assembly, many members of which, he said, had not voted according to their convictions. “I stand by this,” he declared, holding aloft a Bible. Then he turned and walked with bowed head back to his seat. Made Impression.

Next came the Rev. R. J. H. McGowan, a commanding presence, for he is a mountain of a man. But when the mountain laboured, it brought forth but a mouse in the way of a voice. There was a flutter of interest when Mr McGowan introduced some new evidence in the shape of the transcript of shorthand notes taken by students at Dr Angus’s lectures. He was pathetically anxious to ensure the Assembly of the competency of the shorthand writer, and of the accuracy of the transcription. He also proceeded to a close examination of reported utterances of Dr Angus, refuting his contentions with all the sincerity of which he was capable, and he undoubtedly made his impression. Followed the Rev. J B. Fulton, white of hair, ruddy of complexion, and with a Scottish burr in his speech, that years of absence had failed to eradicate. He told the whole story by his dramatic commencement.

“I was a retired minister, living quietly in my retirement, when Dr Angus sent his girl students home sobbing, without faith to rest on. I would be a coward,” shouted Mr Fulton, “If I sat down under this. I vowed that while I had life, I would fight this traitorism. He made my blood boil.”

A simple man, and sincere and angry to the very depths of his aged simplicity. Then the Rev. Dr. Gunn, a bearded man, grown old through long service in the mission fields, and finally the Rev. J. A. R. Perkins, another big man with a small voice, and a devouring love of the faith of his childhood. Through it all sat Dr, Angus, a keenfaced intellectual, obviously under nervous strain, restless and worried.

Case for the Defence. The two ministers appointed by the New South Wales Assembly to put the case for the defence provided a complete foil to the appellants. First came the Rev. John Edwards, a small, bespectacled figure, with thinning hair, but with a voice which was almost organlike in tone and expression, and a diction that was polished and complete. In substance, his speech was as complete a refutation as was possible of the charges against Dr. Angus, and his tones reverberated when he declared that “on the Resurrection Dr. Angus is impregnable.” Only occasionally were there little bursts of satire. Of a different type is the Rev. D. J. Flockhart. Homely Australianism is in his tones, and his is the straight forward sincerity of his native country. He dealt with the more secular phases of the matter—the debate in the New South Wales Assembly, and the events connected with it. But his declaration of faith in his former teacher, Dr. Angus, was just as unequivocal as that of his predecessor, and his appeal to the justice of his hearers just as forceful. At length it was over and the bedlam of personal discussions between this group and that followed the silent atmosphere of debate. But there was a strain and a wish to be released from the tension. Further formalities were discarded, the debate was adjourned to next week, and a highly-strung crowd of Presbyterian ministers and elders filed out into the clatter of Collins street, where even the cable trams have been replaced by modem electricity.—Sydney Sun,