The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [126]
his wife and children. The jury had returned the usual verdict, `Temporary Insanity'. It never seemed to occur to these people that the truth was that to continue to suffer hopelessly like this was evidence of permanent insanity.
But supposing that bodily death was not the end. Suppose there was some kind of a God? If there were, it wasn't unreasonable to think that the Being who was capable of creating such a world as this and who seemed so callously indifferent to the unhappiness of His creatures, would also be capable of devising and creating the other Hell that most people believed in.
Although it was December the evening was mild and clear. The full moon deluged the town with silvery light, and the cloudless sky was jewelled with myriads of glittering stars.
Looking out into the unfathomable infinity of space, Owen wondered what manner of Being or Power it was that had originated and sustained all this? Considered as an explanation of the existence of the universe, the orthodox Christian religion was too absurd to merit a second thought. But then, every other conceivable hypothesis was also - ultimately - unsatisfactory and even ridiculous. To believe that the universe as it is now has existed from all eternity without any Cause is surely ridiculous. But to say that it was created by a Being who existed without a Cause from all eternity is equally ridiculous. In fact, it was only postponing the difficulty one stage. Evolution was not more satisfactory, because although it was undoubtedly true as far as it went, it only went part of the way, leaving the great question still unanswered by assuming the existence - in the beginning - of the elements of matter, without a cause! The question remained unanswered because it was unanswerable. Regarding this problem man was but -
`An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light And with no language but a cry.'
All the same, it did not follow, because one could not explain the mystery oneself, that it was right to try to believe an unreasonable explanation offered by someone else.
But although he reasoned like this, Owen could not help longing for something to believe, for some hope for the future; something to compensate for the unhappiness of the present. In one sense, he thought, how good it would be if Christianity were true, and after all the sorrow there was to be an eternity of happiness such as it had never entered into the heart of man to conceive? If only that were true, nothing else would matter. How contemptible and insignificant the very worst that could happen here would be if one knew that this life was only a short journey that was to terminate at the beginning of an eternity of joy? But no one really believed this; and as for those who pretended to do so - their lives showed that they did not believe it at all. Their greed and inhumanity - their ferocious determination to secure for themselves the good things of THIS world - were conclusive proofs of their hypocrisy and infidelity.
`Dad,' said Frankie, suddenly, 'let's go over and hear what that man's saying. ' He pointed across the way to where - a little distance back from the main road, just round the corner of a side street - a group of people were standing encircling a large lantern fixed on the top of a pole about seven feet high, which was being held by one of the men. A bright light was burning inside this lantern and on the pane of white, obscured glass which formed the sides, visible from where Owen and Frankie were standing, was written in bold plain letters that were readable even at that distance, the text:
`Be not deceived: God is not mocked!'
The man whose voice had attracted Frankie's attention was reading out a verse of a hymn:
`I heard the voice of Jesus say, Behold, I freely give, The living water, thirsty one, Stoop down and drink, and live. I came to Jesus and I drank Of that life giving stream, My thirst was quenched, My soul revived,
But supposing that bodily death was not the end. Suppose there was some kind of a God? If there were, it wasn't unreasonable to think that the Being who was capable of creating such a world as this and who seemed so callously indifferent to the unhappiness of His creatures, would also be capable of devising and creating the other Hell that most people believed in.
Although it was December the evening was mild and clear. The full moon deluged the town with silvery light, and the cloudless sky was jewelled with myriads of glittering stars.
Looking out into the unfathomable infinity of space, Owen wondered what manner of Being or Power it was that had originated and sustained all this? Considered as an explanation of the existence of the universe, the orthodox Christian religion was too absurd to merit a second thought. But then, every other conceivable hypothesis was also - ultimately - unsatisfactory and even ridiculous. To believe that the universe as it is now has existed from all eternity without any Cause is surely ridiculous. But to say that it was created by a Being who existed without a Cause from all eternity is equally ridiculous. In fact, it was only postponing the difficulty one stage. Evolution was not more satisfactory, because although it was undoubtedly true as far as it went, it only went part of the way, leaving the great question still unanswered by assuming the existence - in the beginning - of the elements of matter, without a cause! The question remained unanswered because it was unanswerable. Regarding this problem man was but -
`An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light And with no language but a cry.'
All the same, it did not follow, because one could not explain the mystery oneself, that it was right to try to believe an unreasonable explanation offered by someone else.
But although he reasoned like this, Owen could not help longing for something to believe, for some hope for the future; something to compensate for the unhappiness of the present. In one sense, he thought, how good it would be if Christianity were true, and after all the sorrow there was to be an eternity of happiness such as it had never entered into the heart of man to conceive? If only that were true, nothing else would matter. How contemptible and insignificant the very worst that could happen here would be if one knew that this life was only a short journey that was to terminate at the beginning of an eternity of joy? But no one really believed this; and as for those who pretended to do so - their lives showed that they did not believe it at all. Their greed and inhumanity - their ferocious determination to secure for themselves the good things of THIS world - were conclusive proofs of their hypocrisy and infidelity.
`Dad,' said Frankie, suddenly, 'let's go over and hear what that man's saying. ' He pointed across the way to where - a little distance back from the main road, just round the corner of a side street - a group of people were standing encircling a large lantern fixed on the top of a pole about seven feet high, which was being held by one of the men. A bright light was burning inside this lantern and on the pane of white, obscured glass which formed the sides, visible from where Owen and Frankie were standing, was written in bold plain letters that were readable even at that distance, the text:
`Be not deceived: God is not mocked!'
The man whose voice had attracted Frankie's attention was reading out a verse of a hymn:
`I heard the voice of Jesus say, Behold, I freely give, The living water, thirsty one, Stoop down and drink, and live. I came to Jesus and I drank Of that life giving stream, My thirst was quenched, My soul revived,