[From the Churchman, New York, New York, Aug. 23, 1924]

It is only by the unconquerable power of love that we can hope to overcome misunderstanding and strife. We call upon all friends and fellow-seekers throughout the world to practice aggressive good-will in all our relations with other nations and classes. We must not only refuse to take life, ... but we must strive unceasingly to live and to act in that spirit that delights to do no evil nor to revenge any wrong, but which seeks through the love of God to transform those who misunderstand us or think themselves our enemies into members of a common fellowship of which Jesus is the head.

[H. T. Gibson, in the Young Citizen, Auckland, New Zealand, June 30, 1924]

Without education, a man or woman is sadly handicapped in the jostling rivalry that constitutes the main part of our national existence of to-day. But what does "life" mean? Does it mean the earning of food, raiment, and shelter, and nothing more than that? Does it mean nothing beyond the acquiring of an education in youth and the passing of examinations so that good positions may be secured? Or, does it mean the realization of our place in the scheme of things, the realization that we are here as citizens to share the work of fulfilling our national mission, that we are here to enjoy the glory of living, the beauty of the world, the pleasures of intellectual recreation, the delights of intelligent research, and the opportunities for doing good to others? Surely life is far wider and grander than mere living. But to enjoy it fully, and to pass on our enjoyment to others, we must be properly equipped, morally, mentally, and physically. It is of this equipment that we would speak. To win through, our children must be prepared to overcome handicaps, to beat down obstacles, to face difficulties, and to smile when troubles gather. Their preparation lies in the attainment of good health, of an alert mind, of a sound basis of learning and of true education. True education provides the power to comprehend, to weigh well, to study properly, and to tackle, unbiased and unprejudiced, the problems of life. ... Do the children understand that their home aims to be a model of unselfishness and an emblem of all that is good, so that in future life they may look back upon childhood and youth as periods when they learned the moral guidance that will safely and surely steer them through the trials and temptations of the world?

Do we truly grasp the meaning of home? ... Nationality may be molded in the schoolroom, but it is made in the home. The mold, no matter how good and sound it may be, cannot turn out metal that will ring true unless the metal itself be good and sound. True, the school can sometimes minimize the defects in the material it receives, but the process demands not only individual attention, but also the highest skill and greatest patience that the school can produce. Unfortunately, such attention and such patient skill demand in their turn inroads into the time of the school; only on rare occasions can they be bestowed, for the exactions of the present-day syllabus and the bane of large classes forbid much else than the collective training of the young.

In the home is laid the foundation of character. The school, to a very great extent, can modify the results, but cannot as a rule so counteract faulty training that the faults can be totally eliminated. To the homes that send to school young folk who know the true happiness of altruism, who know the value to themselves and to their mates of ready compliance with rules and regulations, to the homes where sympathy with childhood is tempered by common sense, where the gulf between love and indulgence is fully realized, where firmness is distinct from harshness, and where the training is based on playing the game in all matters, great and small, moral and mental,—to these homes we owe our national greatness.

[From the Herald, Louisville, Kentucky, Aug. 7, 1924]

Much interest has been aroused not only in Great Britain but wherever the English tongue is spoken by a recent statement or prediction offered by the Archbishop of York. The Archbishop is himself one of England's great divines, and his position in the Church of England is second only to that of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The occasion was, besides, a notable one, and the audience of a character to challenge mere assertion. It was in a sermon before the Congress of the British Medical Association and in Bradford Cathedral that this dignitary observed that "a great revival of healing through faith made active by self-discipline and prayer" might confidently be looked for. He declared further that cases of "spiritual healing" in the United States and in the British dominions were of such a character as to demand inquiry, and to be removed entirely from the sphere of doubt. Why then, he inquired, might it not be well for the profession to look into these matters? All the resources of medicine, all the skill of surgery, sometimes fail,—were we to exclude as foreign to the present day, or perhaps to any day at all, the power of faith and prayer? Were they helpless in removing disease and in dealing with conditions that baffle medicine? And it was evidently in the mind of the Archbishop that such exclusion could only be predicated on a defiant prejudice and that the last word had not been spoken when medical skill declared it could go no further.

It was natural that any such remarks spoken under such conditions should arouse a great deal of controversy. The newspapers took up the matter and solicited opinions not only from clerics, but from medical sources, many of which were in substantial support. There was the usual shrugging of shoulders, the customary sneers, but there were also those who spoke of the matter with some appreciation of what was meant. The Morning Post, for instance, pointed out that the patient who has faith in his doctor has a better chance of recovery than the patient who has no faith; but this we understand to be quite foreign to the meaning of the cleric. He was thinking of healing by faith, of divine intervention and assistance, rather than of the medical man assigned to the case. At that, we note a general feeling that this kind of discussion will do good. One critic observes that, if it tend to wean the public away from the medicine bottle, it will have achieved a great result. ... But that was not what was in the mind of the Archbishop of York. It was spiritual healing he meant; and comment which does not take that into account is beside the question.

[From the Telegram, Portland, Oregon, Sept. 13, 1924]

A pamphlet entitled "Suggestions for the Teaching of Humane Education in the Public Schools of Oregon" is being distributed to the teachers of the state by J. A. Churchill, state superintendent of schools. In the foreword Mr. Churchill says: "Believing that the chief end of education is character and that the first law of personal culture is consideration of others, it becomes the duty of the public school to instill into the minds of the children under its jurisdiction a proper regard not only for human beings, but for dumb animals as well. Most children have a natural love for animals, and this admiration should be encouraged, also cultivated. They should be so taught that they will have an appreciation and thoughtfulness for all dumb creatures and will have a sympathetic interest in them, to the end not only that justice may be done these useful friends of mankind, but that kindness and gentleness may become a part of the nature of the child. It is during the impressionable age of childhood that the seeds of such human virtues as gentleness, kindness, forbearance, and charity are planted and are cultivated by daily acts of thoughtfulness. There is no better way of training children in the virtues than by teaching them to be kind and just to their animal playmates; to refrain from neglecting, frightening, striking, or injuring in any way household pets; to feed the birds in winter, and to be thoughtful, always, of every living creature. Thus kindness becomes habit, and habit becomes education."

[The Prince of Wales, quoted in the Times Weekly, London, England, Aug. 7, 1924]

Scouts, I am very proud to be present on this unique occasion when you are gathered together from all parts of the Empire. It is a unique and also an invigorating experience, and one which puts new heart into us all. You are the future Empire men, and it is up to you to carry our your Scout Law and be prepared for this great responsibility,—a responsibility which will at the same time offer you a great opportunity. Those of you who come from overseas, make the most of your visit here. See and learn all you can of the character and institutions of the Old Country. You who belong to the Old Country will, I know, make fast friends with your brother Scouts from overseas, and thus you will be able to carry on ... good-will and helpfulness which mean so much, and to reproduce that spirit of comradeship and friendship which was such a feature of the war.

[Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick, in the Churchman, New York, New York, Aug. 23, 1924]

I have undertaken to wrestle as best I can with the revival of religious interest that we are experiencing in the United States. ... I do not mean that anything is being done that could properly be characterized by the ordinary significance of the word "revival"; but I do mean that both inside and outside of the churches—for sometimes the most distinctive and peculiar marks of this renewal of religious interest are discoverable outside the churches—we have a revival of a profound spiritual meaning. I never in all my ministry saw religion so much a topic of ordinary conversation in Pullman trains and hotel corridors, which are the test of public opinion in the United States; never have I seen the newspaper so interested in religion.

[From the Vancouver Sun, as quoted in the Journal, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, March 4, 1924]

Churchmen who talk in the East about the opportunity of the Christian church to prevent war are only beginning to realize the vast power of their organization over the viewpoints and opinions of its members. If the Christian churches of the world set themselves definitely, unfalteringly, and dynamically against war, war would be ended. Wars are not born nationally, but individually. Wars do not begin with the exchange of bitter notes between nations, but with the meannesses of individuals. ... The church can abolish war by setting itself steadily to the task, seven days a week, of making its members healthy in mind, body, and soul. If the church will take care of the little leaks in human behavior, the big leaks will take care of themselves.