, when man does not see his enemy, the poetry of the battle is
gone, and man is rendered by the Unknown into a quaking coward."
But when enveloped in the fog of ignorance every phenomenon of Nature
causes man to quake and tremble--he wants to know! Fear prompts him to
ask, and Greed--greed for power, place and pelf--answers.
To succeed beyond the average is to realize a weakness in humanity and
then bank on it. The priest who pacifies is as natural as the fear he
seeks to assuage--as natural as man himself.
So first, man is in bondage to his fear, and this bondage he exchanges
for bondage to a priest. First, he fears the unknown; second, he fears
the priest who has power with the unknown.
Soon the priest becomes a slave to the answers he has conjured forth. He
grows to believe what he at first pretended to know. The punishment of
every liar is that he eventually believes his lies. The mind of man
becomes tinted and subdued to what he works in, like the dyer's hand.
So we have the formula: Man in bondage to fear. Man in bondage to a
priest. The priest in bondage to a creed.
Then the priest and his institution become an integral part and parcel
of the State, mixed in all its affairs. The success of the State seems
to lie in holding belief intact and stilling all further questions of
the people, transferring all doubts to this Volunteer Class which
answers for a consideration.
Naturally, the man who does not accept the answers is regarded as an
enemy of the State--that is, the enemy of mankind.
To keep this questioner down has been the problem of every religion. And
the great problem of progress has been to smuggle the newly-discovered
truth past Cerberus, the priest, by preparing a sop that was to him
palatable.
From every branch of Science the priest has been routed, save in
Sociology alone. Here he has stubbornly made his last stand, and is
saving himself alive by slowly accepting the situation and transforming
himself into the Promoter of a Social Club.
* * * * *
The attempt to ascertain the truths of physical science outside of
theology was, in the early ages, very seldom ventured. When men wanted
to know anything about anything, they asked the priest.
Questions that the priest could not answer he declared were forbidden of
man to know; and when men attempted to find out for themselves they were
looked upon as heretics.
The early church regarded the earth as a
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