RELIGION AND LIFE

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 77, 3 September 1942, Page 6

RELIGION AND LIFE

STUDY OF BRITISH CONDITIONS CIVILIAN MORALE AT HIGH LEVEL For six weeks, said Clifford P. Morehouse in a 8.8. C. talk, I have had the unique privilege of studying British civilian life in wartime. I came over here in the middle of April to see what I could, especially of religious life and social conditions in wartime England. And I am most favourably impressed and greatly heartened by what I have seen. We have sometimes been inclined to be rather sorry for our cousins in the British Isles. I do not think we need to be sorry for them; rather we should be proud of the splendid example that they have set and are_ setting for the whole world; proud, too, to be allied with them in the greatest struggle that the world has ever seen. During the month and a half that I have been here 1 have travelled to many parts of the British Isles. I have walked through the devastated areas of London, and talked with the people there who went through the terrible night-after-night air raids of last year. I have climbed over the rubble of towns blitzed in Hitler’s recent tour of the Cathedral centres, while the fires from incendiary bombs were still burning. I have gone through busy factories and steel works in the Midlands, where work goes on day and night even when sirens may be sounding their warnings. I have stood on the cliffs at Dover, where men and women still work and children play within range of the Nazi guns on the French coast. Everywhere the story is the same. The people carry on courageously, cheerfully, confidently. They have no doubt of the final outcome. The road may be long and difficult, but at the end lies victory. Civilian morale in Britain is probably at a higher level to-day than it has ever been since the war began. The people are not self-pitying, and they do not want us to pity them. They have learned to live under war conditions, and they are justifiably proud of the way they have held their island fortress through the days when they stood almost alone against the enemy until now, when they have half the world as their allies. I think, too, that religion means more in England than it did in the pre-war days. I do not mean that there is more church-going though services are remarkably well attended. But certainly there is more of a consciousness on the part of men and j women in all walks of life that beneath the changing fortunes of war there is an eternal purpose of God, working itself out in history. And there seems to be a growing feeling that the only way to build the better world that is so ardently desired, after the war, men must find out what that purpose is, and direct) their own efforts in harmony with it.

One direct evidence of this is the remarkable growth of the movement known as Religion and Life. This is an almost spontaneous effort that cuts across all lines of class and denomination. It is not an organisation, with a president, secretary, and executive board. It is rather a channel through which the religious and moral life of the nation finds expression in corporate and united action. It is a nation that has long taken its Christianity for granted, learning anew to express its life in Christian terms and to apply the teachings of Christ to its national life. Take for example Religion and Life week in Manchester. It opened with a great procession, led by the Lord Mayor, in which civic and religious organisations of all kinds participated, bearing witness to the dependence of democracy on the Christian tradition. In his opening address Dr. Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury, set the keynote for the week. He raised the question of the practical application of Christian principles to such matters as housing, employment, social, security, and international relations; he looked beyond the war to the days in which Great Britain, with America and Russia, must assume the leadership in the rebuilding of the world.

All communions participated in at least a part of the Religion and Life observances. Anglicans and Free Churchmen combined in most of the meetings and services. The Roman Catholics held a teaching mission during the period, and joined in the great youth demonstration. On this occasion—a powerful contrast to the meetings of Hitler Youth in Germany —a Presbyterian minister and a Roman Catholic priest shared the leadership, the priest directing 6,000 young men and women in the recitation of the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Litany. At a dinner given by the Lord Maj’or of Manchester, Christian and Jewish leaders joined with civic officials in bearing witness to the importance of religion in solving the problems of the twentieth’century.

I have had the privilege of talking with many of the leaders of both Church and State during my visit to England, and with many of the proverbial “men in the street” as well. All were agreed that Christianity is at stake to-day, and that it is above all a time for Christians of every name to stand together. Perhaps Cardinal Hinsley, that passionate exponent of militant Christianity, expressed it most clearly. He said, after the great service of intercession in Westminster Cathedral for Malta and its brave defenders; “Christianity itself is under attack to-day. It is not this or that doctrine that is in question, but the fundamental principles of the Faith—belief in God, and belief that man is created in the image of God. Christians of every name must work together to secure the moral principles that are the justification for democracy. Chief among these are the dignity of the individual and the sanctity of the family. If we allow these to be undermined, society will be destroyed.”

Alongside that statement let me place the remark of a taxi driver who pointed his thumb at a ruined church as we drove by it. “Until Jerry begun doing that,” he said, “we sort of took the Church for granted and didn’t pay much attention to it. Now we begin to see that religion is what we all need more of, and if Jerry’s against it, we’re for it.” In his way, I think the taxi driver had much the same thought on the subject as the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster! One of tne most interesting expediences that I have had on this \ isit to the British Isles was my visit to Barton Place, near Exeter a nursery shelter for bombed-out children. It is maintained by the readers of my periodical, The Living Church, through that splendid organisation, the Save the Children Federation. Here are 38 children between two and five years old, mostly from the devastated east end of London. This was my second visit to the shelter. I had gone down there shortly after my arrival in England, and had had a very enjoyable but rather formal visit. Then came the blitz, and of course I wanted to see how the youngsters had fared. So I slipped down there unnounced. I found the children well

and happy. The bombing had been; quite close to them, and of course they had been terrified; but very well behaved nevertheless, according to the superintendent. A few days later the Ministry of Health had sent down an inspector to find out whether their nerves had been badly affected. She found that they had not only completely recovered from the shock, but their favourite game now was called “bombs and sirens.” The government is helping in every way possible to enable these youngsters to grow into strong boys and girls. They have plenty of fresh vegetables from their own gardens and are allowed a double milk ration. Beginning in July candy is to be rationed, and every child in England will have double sweets rations. In every way possible they are given the preference over adults. For they are the citizens of to-morrow, and Britain and the world will need strong, healthy citizens to try to build a better world on the ruins of the old one. On Sunday morning the little ones at Barton Place had their Sunday school. They sat on little chairs in a circle, and, after an opening hymn, they were told a story of Our Lord and his love for little children. Then, after more singing—which they did with all the lustiness and lack of self-consciousness of the very young —each in turn said a little ‘thank you’ prayer, to thank God for something special. Most of the thank you’s were for their favourite toys or for their good times. Quite a few remembered to be thankful for their fathers and mothers. One little l'our-year-old miss, with a side-long glance at me said; “Thank you, dear God, for America.” I felt most unworthy, as the only representative of America present—but also very happy. For these children do know that America is helping them, and in that there is great hope l'or the future. Perhaps we ought to tell our own children how much Britain is helping America; how indeed she held the front line alone at that time, after the fall of France, when that front line seemed so thin. We know, now, that it was our front line as well as hers. I am no prophet. I cannot tell j you whether this war will be a long | one or a short one. But this I do I know—we shall win this war. And we shall win it completely and decisivelj7. Will we also win the peace? That is going to be the vital question of the future. These youngsters in Britain and the children of all the world have the right to ask us that question. In our religion we have the answer. The Prince of Peace pointed the way tor us. In His teachings are to be found the way that leads to a genuine and enduring peace for the whole world. Will we have the good sense to apply those teachings, not only to our own lives but to the life of nations? In that, it seems to me, lies the answer to the question whether we shall win the peace. And it is up to Britain and America standing together in peace as in war’ to set forth that answer before the’ whole world.