goes to church, and if one sits back during the general confession of sins and listens, one hears the boredom in the voices of the congregation as they recite what they have recited each week hundreds of times before. And as one hears the boredom, one cannot help being struck by the idea that in general the members of the congregation are not in the least penitent for any misdeeds they have committed during the last seven days, so that generally no question of forgiveness arises. It is little more than a charade, a ritual is the correct name.
To recapitulate therefore, the doctrine only seems to be of importance in the dubious realm of ritual; in the actual world of experience its usefulness is not obvious.
What then is the attractiveness and the power of this doctrine whose only certain practical effect is to prevent reunion between the Church of England and the Methodists and other sects? If it is true that dogma and egotism can both be described as spasms in the consciousness, may not the attraction of the doctrine be that it provides an outlet for the egotism of the clergy, but an outlet suitably disguised by the clothes of sanctimonious piety?
The true authority of the Christian Church lies not in tradition, nor is it a question in the antique language of Conciliarism, whether it is in the Pope advised by Council or the Pope in Council; it lies in the ability of all Christian people to find communion with one another, however difficult that may be in practice. It is much the same in the Army. Authority rests on the soldier's trust in his comrades and on his willingness to obey orders. If he believes that his officers know what they are about and will not sacrifice his life unnecessarily, he will surely obey to the end. Authority may have to resort to fear, but it rests on mutual confidence. The only difference is this: Christians have the inestimable benefit of a belief in a communion with Christ. Whereas those outside the Church, bereft of any such belief, have no means of overcoming evil…