Religious Vulgarity by Editor

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jan 14, 1915

Religious Vulgarity

By Editor

UNDER this heading J. H. M'Ilvaine, D. D., contributes an excellent article to the Lutheran for Nov. 12, 1914. While recognizing the power for good which is connected with some of the religious movements of the present day, he deplores very greatly some of the methods which are employed by these organizations and by popular revivalists in carrying on their work. Some of these workers he feels have fallen into the mistake of—

thinking that religion, to help the man in the street, must be brought down to the level of the man in the street. If the man in the street is vulgar, religion must be vulgar; if he is irreverent, religion must be irreverent; if he is slangy, religion must be slangy; if he likes the sensational, the spectacular, the theatrical, religion must be sensational, spectacular, theatrical. If he prefers the vaudeville to the church, vaudeville methods must be introduced into the church.

But the object of religion is to lift men up, and it can only do this from above. Religion must indeed reach down to the streets and the very gutters, but must keep its hold on the skies. If it loses its hold on the skies, it can never lift men from the streets and gutters. If religion itself becomes irreverent, how can it teach men reverence, which is the soul of religion? If religion loses its own soul, how can it save the souls of men? What shall it profit religion if it gain the whole world and lose its own soul?

Of the familiar address with which some revivalists approach God, this writer declares:—

Is it reverent to treat God, to speak to God as one does to the man in the street? Because you say to the first man you meet, “Good morning, how do you do?” is it reverent to say, “Good morning, God, how do you do?” Because you give to a man or woman of more or less distinction the Chautauqua salute, is it reverent to wave your silly handkerchief to God? Because you use slang with the man in the street, is it reverent to use slang to God? to say, “God, do you get me?” “God, you must be stuck on this fine body of ministers;” “God, it must make you crazy to see so many converted to you;” to ring an imaginary telephone and say, “Hello, God, this is —”? Is it reverent in the midst of prayer to Almighty God to burst into a laugh and to say to the devil, “Ha, ha, old man, you’re up against it now,” and to take the attitude of a prize fighter and spar with an imaginary devil, and all in the name of prayer? I say that is not prayer, but buffoonery in the name of prayer.

The Lord Jesus Christ is our friend and brother. He has come down from the mansions of glory into the conditions of our manhood, that he may lift us to his glory; but he is the Son of God, very God of very God, the King of glory, King of kings, and Lord of lords. Is it right or reverent to rob him of his majesty and glory by common, coarse familiarity? If I had the honor to count among my friends the king of England, would it not be insufferable vulgarity to call him George, and to go about speaking of him as George? What then can we say of such prayers as the following? “Well, Jesus, I was in a sick home yesterday. The lady said she hadn’t time to read my sermon, but the nurse read it to her every day. Thousands all over the world are reading the sermons published in the newspapers.” That is not prayer; that is advertising. . . .

The beautiful parable of the prodigal son, the most exquisite picture that the world has of God’s relation to men—does it gain or lose even for the man in the street, to turn it into slang and make it ridiculous? “The son said, ‘Come, divvy up, I’m tired of this, pass over the mazuma, see?’ and the father tumbled to it, and said, ‘I get you.’” The beauty is gone, and this precious part of the Bible he would take from us. Does it help men to reverence God, to describe him as coming in judgment, going from the garret to the kitchen, and then in his dramatic presentation of God the speaker goes down on all fours, snoops under the pulpit, says: “Hello, what’s this? A pack of cards? Throw it into the dump. What’s this in the ice box? Beer? Throw it into the sewer. What’s this handkerchief in the cupboard?” and a woman says, “It’s my ball costume,” and then there is a laugh.

Does it increase our respect for Christ, to say, “This is the way that Jesus Christ preached: You lobsters, you four flushers, you false alarms, you excess baggage, you are a bunch of guys, and the whole bunch of you ought to be in jail. That is the way Jesus preached, and you preachers can learn a lesson to preach as he did.” I say that is a slander and libel on the truest gentleman that ever trod this earth, and I wonder that no Christians in loyalty to their Master, with bowed and shamed faces, got up and left the place.

With the estimate of this style of preaching expressed by Dr. M'Ilvaine we are in hearty accord.