of life it condemned, that they have disguised it in falsehood, and men have lost confidence in the truth.
In our European society, the words of Jesus, “To this end I am come into the world, that I shall bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice,”—have been for a long time supplanted by Pilate’s question, “What is truth?” This question, quoted as a bitter and profound irony against a Roman, we have taken as of serious purport, and have made of it an article of faith.
With us, all men live not only without truth, not only without the least desire to know truth, but with the firm conviction that, among all useless occupations, the most useless is the endeavor to find the truth that governs human life. The rule of life, the doctrine that all peoples, excepting our European societies, have always considered as the most important thing, the rule of which Jesus spoke as the one thing needful, is an object of universal disdain. An institution called the Church, in which no one, not even if he belong to it, really believes, has for a long time usurped the place of this rule.
The only source of light for those who think and suffer is hidden. For a solution of the questions, What am I? what ought I to do? I am not allowed to depend upon the doctrine of him who came to save; I am told to obey the authorities, and believe in the Church. But why is life so full of evil? Why so much wrong-doing? May I not abstain from taking part therein? Is it impossible to lighten this heavy load that weighs me down? The reply
