Religion is treated as a lark. It is full of opportunities for plotting
and ragging and pulling the episcopal leg. One is never conscious, not
for a single moment, that the author is writing about Jesus of Nazareth,
Gethsemane, and Calvary. About a Church, yes; about ceremonial, about
mysterious rites, about prayers to the Virgin Mary, about authority, and
about bishops; yes, indeed; but about Christ's transvaluation of values,
about His secret, about His religion of the pure heart and the childlike
spirit, not one single glimpse.
Now let us examine his intellectual position.
In the preface to _Some Loose Stones_[7], written before he went over to
Rome, he explains his position to the modernist:
. . . there are limits defined by authority, within which theorising
is unnecessary and speculation forbidden.
But I should like here to enter a protest against the assumption
. . . that the obscurantist, having fenced himself in behind his wall
of prejudices, enjoys an uninterrupted and ignoble peace.
The soldier who has betaken himself to a fortress is thereby in a
more secure position than the soldier who elects to fight in the
open plain. He has ramparts to defend him. But he has, on the other
hand, ramparts to defend. . . . For him there is no retreat.
The whole position stands or falls by the weakest parts in the
defences; give up one article of the Nicene Creed, and the whole
situation is lost; you go under, and the flag you loved is forfeit.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75