EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THE CASE.
By Examiner (Baptist)
At a recent criminal trial that attracted great attention, one of the witnesses was confronted with statements previously made by him under oath, quite irreconcilable with the testimony he had given. He calmly declared that they were false, and that he knew he was willfully committing perjury in making them. One of the jurors, struck by his shameless confession, asked him, "Do you belong to the church?" "Yes." "What church?" "First Dutch Reformed." "How long have you belonged to it?" "Fourteen years." At this point the judge interrupted the dialogue with the stern question, "What has that to do with the case?" A very pertinent inquiry, that of the judge. As legal evidence, the questions of the juror were probably what jurists call "irrelevant and incompetent," though they had some tendency to throw light on the character of the witness, which was certainly a relevant matter. But the judge spoke more wisely than he knew. As matters go in these days, what has it to do with the case that a man who has for years been a member of a Christian church is a self-confessed perjurer, an accomplice of swindlers, and a scoundrel generally? Evidently, it ought to have a great deal to do with the case. There was a time when church membership meant something, when it was a pledge of honesty, sobriety, and good citizenship. Not that cases were unknown of dishonesty and bad conduct on the part of church members, but these cases were so infrequent and roused so much genuine surprise and horror in the community, as testified to their exceptional nature. But now the rule is reversed. It causes neither surprise nor horror to read in one's morning paper that the latest embezzler and swindler was a "pillar" in some Christian church, a prominent "worker," a highly respected Sunday-school superintendent. One would be surprised, in fact, if the culprit were not a man of this type, for such are the men who naturally work into places of trust, and have opportunities to be rascals on a large scale if they are so disposed. In these days of time locks, and electric alarms, and skillful detectives, it is only now and then that a burglar can get into the vaults of a bank. It is the trusted cashier or teller that makes way with the funds and hies him to Canada to spend them. Not the known thief, but the supposed honest man, is the real danger in these days. We have shut up or muzzled the wolf that runs at large, but the wolf in sheep's clothing ravages the fold worse than ever. And the reason is that the church has conformed to the world's moral standards, by condoning the type of dishonesty that is most prevalent. There is too slight a separation between the church and the world in this matter of moral ideals. Successful rascality on a large scale rides in carriages, builds churches, endows institutions, sets the pace in society, and wins for itself not merely tolerance but respect, and even admiration and imitation. None but mean-spirited souls can easily think ill of a benefactor. It is no more easy now to rebuke sin in high places than it was ages ago, when in all Judea there was but one Nathan to say to the king who had sinned, "Thou art the man." But it must be done faithfully, wisely, kindly, searchingly, if the church is to be made pure and kept pure; if it is to maintain any distinctive character for righteousness. . . . A revival of truth, of honesty, of brotherly-kindness, of right living, is greatly needed. Moral distinctions need sharpening; the line between the church and the world needs to be clearly marked, that it may be seen of all. Church membership ought to mean something more than the possession of a comfortable income and a certain social position; it ought to mean a Christian character—a soul redeemed by the blood of Christ, and in process of sanctification by his grace.