These opening years of the twentieth century have been marked by a profound revival of interest in Mysticism, though we are perhaps not yet justified in speaking of a distinct revival of Mysticism itself. This revival of interest in Mysticism can be traced to no one explanatory cause, but is due to a confluence of many contributory streams of influence. Our expanding historical knowledge has very freshly brought to light the important part which Mysticism has played in the religious life of the world, and especially in the nineteen centuries of Christian development. A group of psychological researches has aroused an immense interest in the inner life, and particularly in the deep-lying regions of the subconscious, where vast sources of hidden spiritual energy appear to lie. The prevailing tendencies in philosophy—common to many schools—to attack “intellectualism,” to humble the claims and pretensions of “knowledge,” and to exalt, on the other hand, intuition, first-hand experience, knowledge of acquaintance, appreciation, and valuation, have given aid and comfort to those who prefer the “heart” to the “head.”

To estimate with any considerable degree of accuracy the moral value of the Oriental religions under the Roman Empire is a hard and perhaps an impossible task. The difficulties arise in part from the fact that these religions, like most others, did not aim primarily at developing what we understand by morality in the individual, but rather at establishing such relations with the gods as to give men security and prosperity here and hereafter; and in part the difficulties are due to the paucity of our data and our liability to error in the interpretation thereof. Yet a religion, like any other form of human expression, inevitably influences as well as reflects the conduct of the social group which cultivates it; that is to say, it cannot exist apart by itself. Therefore it is not an unprofitable thing to attempt to determine with such accuracy as may be attainable the relation to morality of the imported Oriental cults which were widely cultivated in the Occidental part of the Roman Empire between the first and the fourth centuries of our era. We confine our consideration to the Western half of the Empire, for there the evidence as to these exotic religions is most plentiful and it is possible to see them isolated, so to speak, from their native environment. It will be necessary, however, first to consider the moral and religious environment into which these cults entered.

Interest in theology shows no signs of dying out in our time. The theology most frequently and eagerly discussed may be different from what it was a century ago; the conception of the relation between theology and the other sciences may have changed; and a number of interests have crowded in where theology was once supreme. The sermon is not now the sole or even the chief intellectual event of the week. We are for the most part much more interested in knowing a man's political or economic convictions than in discovering his views on inspiration or the Trinity. But if we may judge from the columns of reviews or the publishers' lists, theology is as much written, and presumably as much read, as ever.

This is especially true of the doctrine of the Atonement. In the last half-century no other doctrine has received more careful consideration. We have but to think of the names of Bushnell, Campbell, Dale, Simon, Lidgett, and Moberley. Those who are interested in theology as a whole, like Denney, show that they regard the Atonement as vital. It is vital for us all. If we take our theology seriously, we cannot afford to suspend our judgment here. We are bound to be partisans. Even in refusing to form a theory, we are accepting a theory. In fact, a doctrine that deals with any part of theology is bound to find itself as a doctrine of the Atonement. Every conviction about God's relation to the world runs up into a conviction about what Christ has done for man.

Two difficulties especially beset religion as a working force among thoughtful people. One is to find an adequate terminology, which shall somewhat nearly approach in expressive power the infinitely illusive realities with which religion has to deal. The other is to guard such a terminology, when once it has been accepted, from a too literal and insistent use. Nothing is so repellent to cultivated minds, for instance, as the too frequent familiarities which men take with the name of deity. Especially is this the problem of the one who has to deal professionally with religion, and who with all his handling of divine reality must not lose that which most truly characterizes it, its reticence and reserve. It is his function to declare the being of God, and to make real to others the relations which that Being sustains toward men. All other accomplishments on his part will fail without this fundamental fitness for impressing men with a sense of some one infinitely good and enduring above the passing shows of daily living. The true minister of religion is one who has walked and talked and lived with God. Amidst human limitation and change, the fixed lights of the Spirit for him stand out clear. For him at least, intellectual doubt and moral reaction have not dimmed the eternal verities of righteousness, truth, and love. The world remains for him God's world, whatever men may have done to deteriorate it morally; and he continually seeks to renew in others a consciousness of this essential worth of life and to spur them to a greater realization of it in themselves.

Theology is constantly recognizing, more fully and more freely, the closeness of its relation to philosophy. Starting though they do from different impulses—theology attempting to interpret experience and philosophy to attain knowledge—they converge upon a common field. No great theologian but influences philosophy, no great philosopher but affects theology.

Of American philosophers since Edwards, no one has made so rich, profound, and extensive a contribution to religious thought as Josiah Royce.

The list of Sir Oliver Lodge's writings is long and varied, ranging from school text-books in elementary science through The Ether of Space, School Reform, Life and Matter, Reason and Belief, to The Survival of Man. With most of these writings I have no direct acquaintance, but on the mere evidence of their titles one may with reasonable safety venture certain particulars toward an estimation of their author. He must have intellectual vigor, he must have an instinct for vital questions, he must have the power of popular exposition, and, finally, he cannot be overcautious in the formation and expression of his opinions. All of these particulars would, I believe, be found also in any consensus of judgment that his fellows in science might pass upon his scientific work. This, if not unmixed praise, is much to say for a man, and it may be added that in general he speaks out from a sense of well-being natural to one of cheerful and sturdy temper who has achieved fame, station, ten children, and the confident hope of immortality for all of us. Is it then to be wondered at that he says things which multitudes are glad to hear, and holds a position almost unique in the esteem and confidence of the public at large?