The School of Charity - Evelyn Underhill

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and which will continue in the after life.

      “We have been shown the sky of stars, enchanting and overwhelming us: and now we realize that we are living the star-life too.”

      “We recognize God’s ceaseless pressure on and in our spirits, His generous and secret self-giving on which we depend so entirely.”

      And this life, which is Eternal Life, cannot, it is clear, be ended by Death.

      “I expect the life of the age that is drawing near,” and therefore we end in our Creed on a “note of inexhaustible possibility and hope.”

      “God is the Lord, through whom we escape death.”

      “It is true that we cannot conceive all that it means and all that it costs to stand in that world of purity and wonder from which the saints speak to us . . . but because we believe in One God, the Eternal Perfect . . . so we believe in that world prepared for all who love Him; where He shall be All, in all.”

      May this noble book stimulate us all to a nobler life!

      A. F. LONDON.

      PREFACE

      In this little book, which is based upon the principal articles of the Nicene Creed, I have tried to suggest to the modern Christian how close the connection is between the great doctrines of his religion and that “inner life” which is too often regarded as a more spiritual alternative to orthodoxy: how rich and splendid is the Christian account of reality, and how much food it has to offer to the contemplative soul. We sometimes forget that, with hardly an exception, the greatest masters of the spiritual life speak to us from within the Church; accept its teachings, and are supported by its practices. They tell us, because of their own vivid sense of God, what full life within that Church really means and can be; they do not invite us to contract out of it. Their chief gift to us, their average brothers and sisters, does not consist in the production of striking spiritual novelties, but rather in the penetrating light which they cast on the familiar truths of religion; showing us that these truths are many-levelled, and will only yield up their unspeakable richness and beauty to those who take the trouble to dig below the surface, and seek for the Treasure which is still hidden in the field. If these chapters encourage others to explore their resources, and do a little quiet home digging for themselves—instead of relying upon foreign imports, doubtfully labelled “Higher Wisdom,” “Eastern Mysticism,” and the rest—their main purpose will have been achieved.

      The first part of the book deals with the ruling fact of religion, the Reality and Nature of God; the second with the way that Reality and Nature are revealed within human life, and we lay hold of them; the third, with the kind of life they demand from us, and make possible. These are truths common to all Christians, whatever their “theological colour” may be; and moreover they are the truths which lie at the root of all valid Christian action, and give its special colour to the Christian outlook on the world. So, if it be thought that these meditations dwell too exclusively on the inner life and have no obvious practical bearing on the social and moral problems which beset us, let us remember that such a retreat to the spiritual is the best of all preparations for dealing rightly with the actual. For our real hope of solving these problems abides in bringing them into relation with the eternal truth of God; placing them within the radiance of Charity.

      E.U.

       Feast of St. Mary Magdalen,

       1933.

PART I

      CHAPTER I

      I BELIEVE

      God is love, and he that abideth in love abideth in God and God abideth in him . . . we love because he first loved.—St. John.

      We shall never learn to know ourselves except by endeavouring to know God, for beholding His greatness, we realize our littleness. His purity shows our foulness, and by meditating on His humility we find how very far we are from being humble.—St. Teresa.

      Everyone who is engaged on a great undertaking, depending on many factors for its success, knows how important it is to have a periodical stocktaking. Whether we are responsible for a business, an institution, a voyage, or an exploration—even for the well-being of a household—it is sometimes essential to call a halt; examine our stores and our equipment, be sure that all necessaries are there and in good order, and that we understand the way in which they should be used. It is no good to have tins without tin openers, bottles of which the contents have evaporated, labels written in an unknown language, or mysterious packages of which we do not know the use. Now the living-out of the spiritual life, the inner life of the Christian—the secret correspondence of his soul with God—is from one point of view a great business. It was well called “the business of all businesses” by St. Bernard; for it is no mere addition to Christianity, but its very essence, the source of its vitality and power. From another point of view it is a great journey; a bit-by-bit progress, over roads that are often difficult and in weather that is sometimes pretty bad, from “this world to that which is to come.” Whichever way we look at it, an intelligent and respectful attitude to our equipment—seeing that it is all there, accessible and in good condition, and making sure that we know the real use of each item—is essential to success. It is only too easy to be deluded by the modern craving for pace and immediate results, and press on without pausing to examine the quality and character of our supplies, or being sure that we know where we are going and possess the necessary maps. But this means all the disabling miseries of the unmarked route and unbalanced diet; and at last, perhaps, complete loss of bearings and consequent starvation of the soul.

      Karl Barth has told us, that on becoming a Calvinist minister, he paused to examine his own spiritual stock in trade; and found to his horror that it was useless to him. He seemed to have nothing to feed on, nothing to depend on, nothing to give. It looked imposing ; but much of the food was stale and unnourishing, some of the tins seemed empty, and some were so tightly sealed that he could not reach their contents. He was the child and servant of that Infinite God, whose every word nourishes the souls of men. But he was receiving nothing from Him: the real contents of the stores that had been issued to him were inaccessible. In apparent plenty, he was spiritually starved. In lesser ways that dreadful situation can easily become our own, if we merely take our religious equipment for granted; do not make sure that it contains food on which we can feed, tins we can open, and that we know what the labels really mean. For the spiritual life of man cannot be maintained on a diet of suggestive phrases and ideas. Only when we have found within the familiar externals of our religion, those vivid realities which these externals enclose and keep safe, are we using our equipment properly and getting the food we need. We must open the tins, if we are to discover inside them the mysterious nourishment of the soul. Nor have we any right to ask for fresh enlightenment, or a new issue of provisions, until we have fully explored the resources we already possess.

      This process is equally necessary for those who are repelled by the externals of religion, and those who are attracted by them. Both need to recognize the difference between the container and the content. Many people spend the whole of their devotional lives sitting by the wayside admiring the pictures on the tins ; more are alienated from religion by mistaking this procedure for faith. Karl Barth went away into solitude to open some of his least promising packages; and found with amazement within them the inexhaustible nourishment of eternal life.

      Lent is a good moment for such spiritual stocktaking; a pause, a retreat from life’s busy surface to its solemn deeps. There we can consider our possessions; and discriminate between the necessary stores which have been issued to us, and must be treasured and kept in good order, and the odds and ends which we have accumulated for ourselves. Most of us are inclined to pay considerable attention to the spiritual odds and ends: the air-cushions, tabloids, and vacuum flasks, and various labour-saving devices which we call by such attractive names as our own peace, our own approach, our own experience, and so forth. But we leave the superb and massive standard equipment which is issued to each baptized Christian to look after itself. There are few who

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