Religion: Unity in Columbus

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As they sat at table in Jerusalem 1,900 years ago, the apostles of Jesus Christ were mystically fired with the impulse to continue his teachings. Ohio churchmen were fired last year with an impulse to celebrate the 19th Centennial of the Pentecost, which was the founding day of the Christian church, and this they did last week in Columbus. Ohio usually has four separate annual conventions under the auspices of the Ohio Council of Churches (17 Protestant denominations) for pastors, laymen, churchwomen, youths. For the centennial Pentecostal celebration, all four conventions were lumped in one.

More than 5,000 celebrants from all over the U. S. registered at Columbus hotels. Columbus (population some 300,000), was pleased but not crowded by having them.

The churchwomen met in the Hartman Theatre, named after the late Dr. Samuel S. Hartman, inventor of "Peruna," sensational oldtime patent medicine (which once contained about 40% alcohol). Other meetings were held in hotels, schools, theatres. Layman after layman, pastor after pastor, youth after youth, expounded world peace, church unity, Prohibition, etc., etc. As the days passed, it appeared that the convention was definitely Modernistic. Vigorously so, progressive, for example, was Samuel S. Wyer, baldish, mustachioed Columbus consulting engineer, who addressed the laymen thus: "I doubt if there is any other book which ranges from such sublime heights to such degrading depths as the Bible. The Bible was not written by God. If God wrote the Bible he would have done a better job of it. If written now, it could not be sent through the U. S. mails. . . . [It] contains a wide range of material not suited for children. . . .

"All scholars agree that the trinitarian references in the Bible are pious forgeries. The question of the divinity of Jesus is not worth a hill of beans. . . . We must scrap the Bible before we can attain church unity. It has no part in the 20th century civilization."

Some pastors thought Engineer Wyer should not have been invited to speak; many felt that he had been somewhat harsh. The pastors were particularly eager to hear sturdy, bespectacled Dr. Frederick William Norwood, eloquent Australian-born minister of London's City Temple.* One of his chief reasons for visiting the U. S. was to attend the Pentecostal celebration. He spoke with great verve. "Dare we say," he inquired, "that we are civilized when at this moment the representatives of the great governments are sitting with drawn lips, like men playing cards, trying to see how much power they may keep and what advantage they may gain? . . . When we get really civilized it will be much quieter. There will be no place for oratory. All noise is a symbol of imperfection, of partial accomplishment."

He also declared: "In the eyes of the world, Charles Chaplin is a buffoon, but he is not really a buffoon. He has lived in the sickly, sentimental atmosphere of Hollywood, yet apparently cherishes the desire to do something really big. He wants to give the world a picture of The Savior. Yet the World says: 'No.' If a bishop wanted to do it, all right; but a comedian? No! Possibly Mr. Chaplin could see some quality in Jesus that the bishops cannot see. Mary Magdalen saw qualities in Jesus that Peter missed."