TEACHING CHRISTIANITY IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS.
MUCH has been said of late about the "necessity" of teaching "unsectarian Christianity" in our public schools. Of course anyone who has given intelligent and logical thought to the matter, knows that such a thing would be impossible. This is clearly seen by Roman Catholics, and the difficulties of such an educator is well set forth in the following from an address of Archbishop Ryan, of Philadelphia, on the subject of the "Vocation of the Christian Educator":— "In unsectarian moral education the teacher is supposed to avoid touching on any doctrine which might clash with the faith of his pupils, or with that of their parents. Let me suppose, for illustration, a congress of youths taking your places in this hall. They are sharp nineteenth, nearly twentieth, century young people, combining Yankee acuteness with Chicago push. I, a quiet, nonsectarian, moral instructor from placid Pennsylvania and friendly Philadelphia, appear before them, giving them permission to object to anything like sectarianism, which may perhaps unconsciously appear in my moral instruction, and to ask questions for explanation. "I begin my address: 'My dear young friends, fully impressed with the fact that I must avoid, in my discourse, any doctrine which may clash with the convictions of you or your parents, I shall, first of all, treat of a subject on which pagans, Jews, and Christians of all denominations entirely agree. I mean the voice within us that tells us that some things are right and some things are wrong. This is the voice of the conscience, which is the voice of God.' 'But,' interrupts a smart young pupil among the auditors, 'who is God? What is God? Is he a person or only an invisible power, as my father thinks? And conscience, is it not the memory perhaps of a punishment received for doing wrong, and as we see in the lower animals when they have been chastised, and afterward act as if conscious of guilt when they do something for which they have been chastised? Have animals consciences, sir?' "I perceive,' says the moral instructor, 'that we have some atheists here. Now, I come to instruct American Christian youth. Let the atheists, if such there be, retire. They require special treatment and alone. Now, my dear Christian young men, I shall speak to you in a nonsectarian manner. 'Christian young men!' cries out a pale, intellectual young man, 'my father is a taxpayer and a Hebrew, and he does not believe, of course, in Christianity. He thinks Christ, at the very best, to have been an enthusiast, who fancied himself the Son of God. If this instruction is to be nonsectarian and intended for all taxpayers, it cannot be Christian.' 'Well, young gentlemen,' says the bewildered nonsectarian teacher, 'I see the point, but this is a Christian country, and as I cannot be with Christ and Annas and Caiaphas at the same time, let the Jewish boys leave; they also require special treatment. Now, thank Heaven, I have young American Christian boys to teach, boys who honor Christ as the Son of God.' 'Hold!' says a voice with a strong New England ring, 'if by Son of God you mean that he was God equal to his Father, the great Almighty, I object, for my parents and I are Unitarians from Boston, and I do not expect to have sectarian teaching inculcated in a purely nonsectarian school.' "Another crowd is dispersed, and the moral instructor, not yet entirely demoralized, proceeds with his lecture: 'As I told you, conscience declares that some things are right and some things wrong, and that we shall be rewarded for doing the right and punished for the wrong. Some believe that the punishment of a really bad man will be eternal, but as I am to be nonsectarian, I will not enter on that subject.' 'But, sir,' interrupts a youth in the crowd, 'it's a mighty important subject to know something about.' 'Well,' replies the instructor, 'suppose we say the punishment is eternal.' 'Then,' says the pupil, 'that is sectarian doctrine, for my father is a Universalist preacher and thinks and teaches that the doctrine is monstrous and contrary to all that we know of God's mercy.' 'Well, then, suppose we say the punishment is only temporal and just proportioned to the crime, and after this temporary hell, God will receive the soul into heaven.' " 'Temporary hell!' cries out one of the audience. 'I declare that most sectarian doctrine, for a temporary hell, where souls suffer for some time before they enter heaven, sounds mighty like what Roman Catholics call purgatory.' By this time the poor moral instructor begins to feel something like the pains of purgatory, with a fear that he may get further south, if these youngsters so torment him. I might, ladies and gentlemen, continue this examination until the hall of the moral instructor would become vacant, as someone would be found to object to every dogmatic utterance of his. In vain will he cry out: 'Why, young men, the very pagans believed in God and his providence and future rewards and punishments. Can I not teach this much?' 'Yes, sir,' someone answers, 'if you propose to make us young pagans. But the world is progressing. Dogmatism, which, as someone has happily said, is only puppyism fully matured, has had its day, and we must think for ourselves and act out our own nature as we please.'"