CHAPTER IV
Three Kinds of Parents.
A French Work on Children.
Probably one of the earliest perplexities that presents itself to a parent is the question of the child’s religion. And yet it is doubtful whether in the generality of cases the matter is considered early enough. There are, evidently, three kinds of parents taking three separate views of the question. There are those who hold distinctly materialistic opinions, and who therefore deliberately decline to enter into the subject at all. They agree with the sentiments expressed in a French work on children published some quarter of a century ago in which the following passages occur: “We may boldly assert that the sense of religion exists no more in the intelligence of a little child thandoes the supernatural in nature.” And again: “In our opinion parents are very much mistaken in thinking it their duty to instruct their little ones in such things, which have no real interest for them—as who made them, who created the world, what is the soul, what is its present and future destiny, and so forth.”
It is a happiness to believe that few English parents endorse these views. The extraordinary stir made by an Education Bill, the chief concern of which was to affect the religious teaching of children, is evidence of a widespread belief in the necessity of such teaching.
Careless Parents.
But, in the second place, there are some parents who are simply careless. They would be rather shocked at being told that they themselves were irreligious, but, when they forget all about their children’s religion, it cannot be supposed that their own is of much real concern to them.
Anxious Parents.
Early Impressions of Good and Evil.
Thirdly, there are the parents who desire beyond all things that their children shall lead religious lives, and are anxious to do their utmost to start the little feet on the right path. It is this class of parent who is often perplexed to know what is best. The difficulties are certainly great. Children differ so widely that what is good for one child may be harmful for another. But in almost all cases the tendency is to put off religious teaching too long. The mind of a very young child—one who would be commonly described as a baby—has been proved again and again to be remarkably receptive of evil as well as of good influences and impressions, and the earlier a baby’s mind can be filled with the very simplest religious truths the less room there will be for evil, and the greater the likelihood ofa firm belief in truths that have been absorbed almost with the mother’s milk.
This leads to the question of how far a very young child has any direct personal religion; any feeling, that is, of a direct communication even of the most elementary kind between itself and itsGodwithout the intervention of any human being.
A Child’s Direct Personal Religion.
Religion through the Mother.
It would probably be true to say thatat firstthis is impossible, but that at a very early age the sense can be imparted. To quote the words of a mother who has brought up a number of children in the fear and love ofGod, personal religion in children “of course begins by being mixed up withMother, who, if she is a real mother, is to her babies the representative of warmth, comfort, love, and everything that they want.” When, in addition to this a child has depended for months upon itsmother for food, and has constantly slept in her arms, the influence of that mother is so great that her religion naturally becomes the religion of the child, who accepts every word she says absolutely. Thus, the “Godbless you” and the words of loving prayer which come so often and so naturally to a mother’s lips are absorbed by the child until its faith in some unconscious way grows into its life and becomes a real thing between itself and itsGod.
Thus, it will be seen that there is a certain truth underlying a statement made by the French author quoted above when he says: “Children’s reverence and love attaches itself to the human beings who are kind to them, but to nothing which is invisible or distinct from their species. Their instinct of finality is wholly objective and utilitarian.” It istrue that in the first instance a baby’s reverence and love attaches itself to the mother, but to assert that afterwards it rejects anything invisible or apart from its own species is to deny the influence of a religious feeling flowing through the mother to the child, and to limit the power of the Spirit ofGodwho can surely dwell in the heart of a very little child.
An example of the way in which children of very tender years can and often do grasp the great truths of the religion which they inherit from their parents has lately been told to the writer by the mother of the child in question.
Where She was Heavened.
She was a little girl of three and a half years old, and was taken one day by her father into the church in which she had been baptized. Pointing to the font, he said, “Do you know what happened to you there?” For a moment the child looked perplexed, and nestling up to her fathersaid, “Youtell me, daddy.” “No,” he replied, “I want you to tell me.” There was another moment’s hesitation, and then she looked up at him and very solemnly said, “I washeavenedthere!”
Probably no answer that she could have made would have been so comprehensive and so convincing of the real grasp of the truth as this word her baby intelligence had coined.
Examples can easily be found to show at how early an age a child may be influenced for good or evil. “I have seen,” says a parent, “a baby trained to habits of cleanliness in six weeks of life,” and it is doubtless true that the difference between good and evil first of all means to a child what is allowed or what is forbidden. But together with this it must always be remembered that there is the sense of safety and of love which, originally connected with “Mother,” is (in the case of a religious parent) speedilycarried onwards and upwards to the love and care ofGod.
Olive Schreiner.
In this connection a passage in Olive Schreiner’s “Story of an African Farm” can hardly be omitted. It runs thus: “The souls of little children are marvellously delicate and tender things, and keep for ever the shadow that first falls on them, and that is the mother’s, or, at best, a woman’s. There never was a great man who had not a great mother: it is hardly an exaggeration. The first six years of our life make us: all that is added later is veneer. And yet some say, if a woman can cook a dinner or dress herself well, she has culture enough.”
All that has been so far written in this chapter on Children’s Religion is of necessity vague and rather difficult. To arrive atfactsis almost impossible. The best that can be done is to speak of probabilities in the light of that faithwhich has been handed down. The religion of children of less tender years presents fewer difficulties, and to the consideration of this it is proposed now to turn.
But while the difficulties are fewer, they do not altogether disappear. It is often, for instance, extraordinarily difficult to determine in the case of a child of six or seven years how far his or her religion has even at that age become directly personal, or whetherGodis not often a Being to whom access is only possible through someone else.
Religion of Rather Older Children.
A Child’s Faith.
The evidence obtainable on this point is most contradictory. A mother writes, “Children’s faith soon becomes a real thing between them and theirGod. My little boy of five is perfectly delightful in the fulness of his faith. Only to-night when I had gone up, as I always do, to tell him a Bible story or singsome hymns before he went off to sleep, he suddenly said, ‘Mother, don’t you wish Jesus was on earth now?’ When I said, ‘Why do you wish it?’ he answered without the least hesitation, ‘Because I should go to Him and ask Him to make me good for always.’ And then, a little time afterwards, he suddenly started up, when I thought he was asleep, and said, ‘Oh! mother, wouldn’t it bedreadfulif we had not got aGod!’”
A Doubting Thomas.
Another mother tells of a little daughter who has been “a doubting Thomas from her babyhood.” To her the personality ofGodwas very real, but she refused to accept anything at first through the medium of another—even of her mother. A good many of her quaint sayings have been preserved—and her mother still remembers how disconcerting these often were in the course of a Bible lesson. Shewould suddenly break in with “WhywasGodso cruel? I hate Him. Can’t you explain? I don’t think much of Him if He doesn’t let fathers and mothers know everything!” At the same time she was seldom willing to accept much on anyone’s judgment but her own. A little brother shared her lessons, and often sighed with impatience at her interruptions. “Oh, R——,” he would say, “I do wish you could get some trust!” When learning the Catechism this little girl refused to say, “Yes, verily, so I will.” “No,” she said, “I shan’t say that. I haven’t made up my mind whether I want to be good or not, and Icertainlyshan’t say that.” So for about six months that question was never put to her, and at last one day she remarked, “I could say that now if you like!”
Relative Importance of Authorities.
In both these instances there can be little doubt that no one came in any way between the child and the Creator, but,on the other hand, a good many parents consider that there is for some years a difficulty in the minds of children as to the intervention of human beings between them andGod, arising either from their habit of connecting their prayers and religious experiences mainly with their mother or nurse, or from a curious inability to realise the supremacy of the Almighty. An example of this latter difficulty may be given in the words of a little child in Yorkshire who was overheard to say to a companion, “Don’t do that or perhapsGodwill see you, and He’ll tell the Vicar.”
Children’s Prayers.
Much has been written by others about children’s prayers, but it is impossible to ignore what is to them the most real and important part of their religion. A lady living in Cheltenham says: “I think that children get a belief in prayer very early.My youngest girl the other day looked tired, so I said that she had better not come to the evening service. ‘Oh, but I must,’ she said, ‘I want to pray for Miss Beale.’” This was at the beginning of that well-known lady’s fatal illness.
Implicit Faith in Prayer.
Another example of belief in prayer on the part of a child was brought to the notice of the present writer by a sister of the boy of whom the story is told. When a very little chap his brothers and sisters were all invited to a children’s party at a neighbouring house, but he had not been included. Much to his grief it was decided that he had better be put to bed when the others started for the party. When saying his prayers he earnestly asked that even yet he might go to the party. He had hardly been tucked up in bed before a messenger came to say that the omission of his name had been an accident and that it was hopedhe might still come. He was hurriedly dressed, and in a few minutes had joined the others in their festivity. The impression made upon the boy’s mind was never erased. From that day forward he never failed to pray about every smallest event. If he went to a shop to buy a knife he would pray to be guided in his choice. If he went out to dinner he would silently pray as he took off his coat in the hall that the evening might be enjoyable. Nothing ever again shook him in his belief in the power of prayer.
Children’s Quaint Petitions.
Some of the original petitions in children’s prayers are often exceedingly quaint, but they go to prove their belief in their words being heard, and it would be cruel to laugh at them or snub the expression of their desires. Some friends of the writer when they were little used to be very fond of interpolating their special wishes into their prayers. Oneof them when a tiny girl kneeling at her mother’s side after praying for her father and mother and brothers and sisters, said, “And pleaseGodmake mother less strict.”
Another child in the same family had been shown a coloured picture of Noah’s sacrifice and the rainbow, which impressed her so much that she added to her evening prayers, “And oh!God, please show me a rainbow very soon!”
From the same source comes a charming story of a small boy who had taken a dislike to a cousin of his own age called Malcolm. It so happened that each of them had a baby brother, and the little boy in question broke off in the middle of his prayers one evening to ejaculate, “PleaseGodmake me and my baby brother stronger and stronger, and Malcolm and his little brother weaker and weaker, so that when we fight we may conquer!”
Children’s Churchgoing.
Danger of Too Much.
The next point to be noticed in dealing with the religion of children is the vexed question as to the wisdom of enforcing attendance at public worship. There can be no doubt at all that, if overdone, compulsory churchgoing may lead to disastrous results. A man to whom frequent attendance at services has all his life been irksome, looks back to his childhood when he was expected to be present at Sunday services, week-day services, Sunday School, choir practices, missionary and other meetings, until he became weary of the very name of such things. Rather nervous of blame, he never ventured to express a wish to absent himself, and to those early days and their discipline he ascribes his present reluctance.
Danger of Too Little.
On the other hand, it is no doubt true that it is dangerous to use no compulsion,and to allow the formation of a habit of staying away from church on the smallest excuse. The real difficulty is to steer a course between making Sunday the dull, cold, miserable day that it too frequently became in the earlier part of the last century and allowing it to be as secular as it so often is at present.
A lady who has been specially successful in bringing up her children to love Sunday and its observances, says, “I make a point of extra nice clothes and nice food on Sundays (it sounds horribly material!) but I want to makeeverythingconnected with goodness and religion attractive, and, however much we may wish they were not so, our souls and bodies affect each other in an extraordinary way. My youngest child of five and a half, having begun Churchgoing regularly six months ago, begs to stay on through the whole service, only sayingat the end, ‘What a lot of kneeling! But I like it; can I stay again?’ Of course, there were two reasons for his wish: his love of being near me, and the music which he also loves.”
A Service Held by Children.
Another instance may be quoted here, taken, as was the last, from the family of lay people. Here again everything was done to make Sundays bright and happy and to bring up the children to consider Churchgoing a treat. So fond did they become of the services that the two youngest—a girl of seven and a boy of five—were accustomed to hold a special service of their own when with their mother in the drawing-room after tea on Sundays. Their mother describes these functions as follows, and, though they may seem to some people to have a spice of “play acting,” yet the children were extremely in earnest in all they did. Here is her account: “Theyused to put on pinafores, the opening to come in front, and wore sashes for stoles. My duty was to sit at the piano as organist. I had to play a voluntary as they came in. They chose the hymns, and each chose a chapter in the Bible to read. They stood on a chair to read their chapters. One day I remember that the little boy, who could not yet read very fluently, chose the one in St. Luke with seventy-two verses and went straight on with it to the end! They took it in turns to preach, again standing on the chair. The elder child always wrote her sermon, but the little boy’s was extempore. After the sermon the missionary box was handed round and we each put something in. The service ended by their kneeling down side by side and singing ‘Jesu, tender Shepherd, hear me.’ One evening the younger child stood up on his chair to preach, and began to get redder and redder and looked verymuch worried, but I did not dare to move from my seat as organist. At last his sister whispered, ‘What’s the matter, darling?’ on which he said, ‘Every word of the sermon has gone out of my head.’ So she promptly stood on her chair and said, ‘The congregation will excuse the sermon this evening. Hymn No. 348.’ I have come across one of the little girl’s written sermons, and give it here:—
“‘Little Children Love one Another.’
A Child’s Sermon.
“‘You love your brother and sister very much indeed though you do fight with them. Yes, that noutty, noutty Sayten gets inside us, and then we can’t fight without Jesus’ help. Yes, if we ask Him to help us I know He will. He is so kind. He will do almost anything you ask Him to do for you, if it is not wrong. Yes, we all go wrong sometimes and feel very cross with ourselfs.Little children sometimes think that all big people are very good indeed, but they all go wrong, too, as well as you or I might, butGodknows all our ways and what we do and sees and hears what we say. Oh! then, little children, love one another, and so we must love Him.’”
Simplicity in Speaking to Children.
As to the number and kind of services to which children should be taken it is impossible to lay down a general rule. Where “Children’s Services” are held by a man who has the gift of attracting and interesting children, the difficulty is partially solved. But these are not much use when they are conducted by persons who cannot sufficiently simplify their language, or by those who are so far out of sympathy with their audience as to appear to be condescending or in the smallest degree pompous—characteristics which are readily observed and resented by all children.
But probably many people will agree that “Children’s Services” alone cannot supply all that is required, in so far as they do not accustom children to the ordinary Church services, as to which it is not too much to say that a certain amount of familiarity breeds affection rather than contempt.
Differences in Children’s Temperament.
But in considering the advisability of taking little children to Church, due regard must be had to the individual child. As has been said, it is absolutely impossible to lay down a general rule. Even the members of the same family are frequently so different in disposition as to make it unwise to treat them all alike. Some may be so sensitive to the awe-inspiring atmosphere of religious services as to cause a fear lest their mind should become morbid on the subject. Very probably such children would express a strong wish to attend onevery possible occasion, but their pleasure is akin to that which is sometimes felt by people of unhealthy mind who delight in torturing themselves by picturing nameless horrors. Other children, and these are the most frequently found, look upon Churchgoing as an entertainment enjoyed by grown-up people and therefore much to be desired, though they themselves soon grow weary of the whole thing.
Two Children at Church.
An example of what is meant came to the notice of the writer a short time ago when staying in the same house with two little children, a brother and sister, who were taken to an afternoon service for almost the first time in their lives. The boy, a year or two the elder, was a rather nervous, highly-strung little chap, and he spent nearly the whole time in saying in a very low voice, “OGod, help me! Iwillbe good!” He seemed unable tothink of anything but the fact that he was inGod’s house, and unable to get relief from the overpowering sensation of awe. His little sister, on the other hand—a fat, merry, matter-of-fact child—evidently considered the whole thing to be a kind of social function interfered with by most unnecessary restrictions. She turned herself about from side to side and nodded and smiled at her numerous acquaintances, paying especial attention to the seats occupied by the servants from the house where she was staying. After a time she yawned audibly and gave obvious signs of getting bored, finally nestling against her mother’s side and falling sound asleep. It is obvious to everyone that two children such as these would need very different treatment in the matter of Churchgoing and religious education generally.
Children’s Unintentional Irreverence.
Such a child as the little girl described above may be said to possess the normalfeelings of her age. Most very young children are entirely unable to grasp the greatness ofGodand the seriousness of religion. If they appear to older people to be irreverent, it must not be counted to them for a sin. It is simply caused by the limitations of their understanding. Thus, a small child was heard to call out during the baptism of a baby, “Whydoesn’the use a sponge?” No irreverence was meant, but the remark showed that the child’s mind was further developed in practical than in spiritual matters. So, again, the absurd questions so often put by little children when told thatGodis everywhere. It is very common for them at once to suggest all kinds of ridiculous places without meaning in any way to be irreverent.
Great Patience Necessary.
Such things of course add to the difficulties of teaching religion to those who are very young, but it is certainthat great patience and tenderness is necessary for those who attempt the task. Forgetfulness of the point of view of the child often leads to expressions of horror and even of anger at apparently profane remarks, but such expressions are unjust and may not seldom give the child a permanent dislike to what ought to be the happiest of all its lessons.
Little Children have Long Ears.
One other caution may be given here. It is a fatal mistake for those who are bringing up little children to speak in their presence of religious matters in a way which they do not desire the children to absorb and do not fancy that they understand. A child may be building a house of bricks in a far corner of the room and yet be listening with all its ears to the talk going on between its elders. A very little boy was once takento Church when a sermon was preached about the Will ofGod. No one thought it possible that he understood a word of it, but at tea that afternoon he was, being slightly out of sorts, allowed no jam, on which he promptly said, “Well, if it’sGod’s Will that I should have nothing but bread and butter, it’s no good fighting against it!”—a practical and excellent comment upon the morning’s sermon.
Lest anything that has been written in this chapter should seem to be discouraging as to the religious training of children, two things may be set down here as full of hope.
Influence of Women.
The first may be disposed of in a few words. There is little doubt that women are naturally more religious than men, or at least that they more easily give expression to their feelings and beliefs. What a great matter it is, then, that theearliest training of children is in the hands of women! It is quite possible that the reason for the greater religious expression on the part of women lies to some extent in the fact that girls remain so much longer under the direct influence of their mother. But that is by the way; what is important is that there are multitudes of truly religious women who may best of all be trusted to impart their own faith to little children.
Children’s Delight in the Unseen.
The other matter for hopefulness lies in the fact that the very things that often present difficulties to grown-up people are specially attractive to children. Anything connected with the unseen world, anything quite impossible according to the laws of nature as we know them, interests and takes hold of children at once. This is plain from the often-repeated request, “Do tell us a fairy story.”
Impression made by Beauties of Nature.
When to this is added the impression made on a child’s mind by the vision of a gorgeous sunset, or of a great wide-spreading view, there seems to be a good deal upon which it is possible to work. A man friend of the writer has told him that his first real impressions of the greatness and goodness ofGodcame to him as a child when contemplating beautiful scenery; and an aunt of the late Bishop Walsham How used to say that when he was a very little boy, and was looking from a window at the sunset, he was heard to say, “Oh!God!”
The Higher Criticism.
How easy it would be to kill these beginnings of faith! How easy for a teacher who had studied the Higher Criticism to wither the growth of a belief in the unseen and incomprehensible! Is it worth while to risk this by scrupulouslyteaching that Elijah’s chariot of fire and Jonah’s whale had better be taken as allegories? A teacher with great experience of little children has said, and said most truly, “Religion attracts greatly because of the mystery which surrounds the unseen. Besides this, the beauty and the wonderful fitness of all things in nature strengthen more than anything a child’s belief in a Divine Creator.”
Perhaps, as one last word, it may be said that that mother will succeed best in the religious training of her children who feels that it is the chief and highest work she has to do.