The Club Smoking Room

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLI, Issue 24, 9 December 1908, Page 4

The Club Smoking Room

By

HAVANA

I SEE, padre,” began the dominie, “that all you people are talking about what you call the re-union of Christendom, and you pave the way by more or less virulent disputes amongst yourselves aboutmatters that, to the mere layman, seenr trivial when they are not unintelligible. At all your synods and assemblies y®u discuss subtle points of doctrine that pass man's understanding, and you pass fraternal resolutions of sympathy with other bodies, whilst you utterly fail to agree amongst yourselves. You are not even agreed on the great doctrine of the top-line, though I must say that you show more unanimity of thought on this matter than on questions purely theological. But the ordinary person gets a bit confused in listening to the Babel of tongues, and ■wonders what he ought to believe out of all the varying creeds presented for his acceptance. You chaps could drop a lot of your antiquated ideas with advantage; what we want is something more spiritual and more in touch with modern thought. A fellow told me the other day that he had attended six different churches on six successive Sundays, and every- time the sermon had been about beer.” © © © “Then again, my good padre,” said the lawyer, “your men bewilder us with all sorts of ritual. How are we to follow some of the elaborate services they have in England? I went to a church once at Brighton, and, ’pon my soul, you couldn't tell it wasn't a Roman Catholic affair. You may call it prejudice, or ignorance, or pig-headedness, or sheer cussedness, but most of us have a sort of instinctive love of Protestantism, and by Protestantism we understand a dislike of ceremonial that we associate with preReformation times. Of course, I know that we lawyers are not the only people who can split hairs, and I have heard subtle arguments to show that Puseyism is the antithesis to Romanism. But the lay mind is wofully dense both in things clerical and things legal. It upsets our own nice points of law by a sort of rude common sense that is eminently distressing to the skilled forensic advocate, and 1 fancy it does much the same with the refined distinctions of some of your learned divines.” © © © “Every profession,” put in a prominent churchman, “has its own ritual. You lawyers put on absurd wigs and' silk gowns to impress us with your learning. Judges wear elaborate robes, and the judicial ermine is the outward sign of incorruptibility. Saluting the quarterdeck is an act of ritual, saluting the flag comes in the same category. Even dressing for dinner might be denounced as ritualistic. You put on dottles the least suited for any kind of work to signify to the world at large that you are free for social intercourse and have laid aside the day's work and worries. And this very act, trivial as it may seem, has a very real effect on us. We are nil to some extent influenced by our clothes, and .we all more or less pay reverence to clothes. The judge wears his robes to excite a feeling of reverence for law. Would the people have the snpie respect for the majesty of the law • the judge pronounced judgment sit-

ting on a candle-box and dad only in singlet and dungarees’ It is the pageant of royalty that makes royally real to most men, and so ritual brings home to men’s minds the majesty of God.” © © © “That is all very well,” answered the schoolmaster, “if the ritual seems to you impressive; if it seems trivial, it has an opposite effect. Some of us feel that grandeur, solemnity, and dignity are spoilt by a multitude of small and petty ceremonies. We feel that simplicity tends to greater reverence than elaborate ceremonial. Personally I think that the stately rhythm of our prayer-book is spoilt by a multitude of ritual acts that tend to distract the attention. Then, of course, many of us either have, or think we have, Protestant leanings. I daresay we are unreasonable, behind the times, out of touch with Catholic truth, and a host of other things. But the prejudice against certain things is there, and it has to be taken into account. Of course, I admit that anything that lends real impressiveness to any act is not a thing to he lightly dispensed with, but we must distinguish between solid gold and mere tinsel.” © © © “Tire truth is,” suggested the padre, “that we don't make sufficient allowance for different types of mind. Some men can worship best on the bare hillside, others need all the accessories of rich vestments, altar lights, and. solemn ritual. I don’t think it is so much a question of doctrine, though, of course, that has much to do with it. It seems to me to be mainly a question of mental disposition and taste. The High Churchman has an historical mind, the Broad Churchman has an enquiring, reasoning mind, the Low Churchman has an emotional mind. The difficulty lies in the fact that we all want others to think exactly as we do. Every man should recognise that he is east in a certain mould, and he should do the best work he can in his own particular line. It is the same at cricket. A man like Jessop is a hitter, and succeeds at that. Barlow was a stone-waller, and succeeded, at that. It would have been fatal to success if either had attempted to change his style. Our only hope of reunion is to look on the church as we look on a cricket eleven. One man is chosen for his bowling’, another for his fielding, another for his batting, and another for his all-round play. To have them all bowlers or batsmen would not be conducive to winnnig matches, and if a man excels in any department, let him stick to that department.” © © © “It takes all sorts to make a world,” replied the cynic, “and the curse of life is that everybody wants everybody else to think exactly as he does, or as threefifths of other people do. Why should I surrender my views on any question at the balding of a vulgar, and sometimes very vulgar, fraction of my fellowmen. I remember a noble marquis at Home who put the matter rather neatly. He owed a large account to a celebrated West End tailor, and the tailor offered to compromise for a week end invitation to the noble lord’s country seat. When

■he got there he met the usual mixture of people, and somewhat resented the fact that they were not all princes of the blood. ‘lt's all right, he said to his host, 'as far as the entertainment goes, but the society’s a little mixed, my. lord.'* To which my lord promptly res touted, ‘Well, hang it all, Jones, w0 can t all be tailors.’ I think some of us are apt to forget that fact.”