"Take an Emetic!"
Doubtless there are a number of people upon whom my articles in the Fatherland have made an impression. Perhaps their situation is pretty much like this: they have become attentive, or at least they have begun to reflect whether the whole matter of religion is not in a pitiable state; but on the other hand there is so much that inclines them not to give themselves up to such thoughts, they love the customary order of things, which they are very loath to let go.
So their situation is pretty much like that of a man who has a bad taste in the mouth, a coated tongue, a little shivering fit, and so the physician tells him to take an emetic.
And so say I too: Take an emetic, come out of this lukewarmness.
Think then first for an instant of what Christianity is, what it requires of a man, what sacrifices it demands, and what sacrifices also have been made for it, so that (as one reads in the stories) even "delicate maidens" (who did not, like our maidens, fill up their time by questioning whether they should wear light-blue or coquelicot at the theater) did not shrink back but, commending their souls to God, valiantly surrendered their "tender bodies" to the cruel executioner. Think first for an instant of this. And then make it clear to yourself, perfectly clear and vivid, the thought — gulp down the dose, however disgusting it is — of living in such a way that it is supposed to be Christian worship when in a quiet hour a man dramatically, costumed steps forward and with dismay depicted by his face, with smothered sobs, proclaims that there is an eternal accounting, an eternal accounting before which we are going to appear — and then that we are living in such a way that outside the quiet hour to disregard even one or another conventional consideration, not to speak of one's advancement, one's earthly advantage, the favor of people of importance, etc., is regarded as something that could not possibly occur to anybody, and of course not to the declaimer; or, if somebody does it, this is punished by being regarded as a sort of madness — think of living in such a way, and that this is supposed to be Christian worship. Doesn't the emetic now have effect?
Well, then, take another dose. Make it clear to yourself and perfectly vivid how loathsome it is to live in such a way that this is supposed to be Christian worship: that when the declaimer dies there steps forth a new declaimer in costume and from the pulpit describes the deceased as a witness to the truth, one of the genuine witnesses to the truth, one of the holy chain of witnesses. Does it not take effect?
Well, then, take still another dose. Make it clear to yourself and perfectly vivid how disgusting it is to live in such a way that when one man says, "No, a witness to the truth one certainly could not call the deceased declaimer," that then it is supposed to be Christian zeal, perpetually repeated, with the greatest possible diffusion, to pronounce upon this man the judgment that he defiles — do you hear that! — defiles a worthy man's memory, violates the peace of the grave — do you hear that! — he violates the peace of the grave, etc., etc.
Surely it has taken effect now; and you'll be all right, the bad taste will disappear, i.e. you will have made up your mind that the whole thing is rotten, nauseating, yet nevertheless it could only begin to have the effect it ought to have when Bishop Martensen introduced the word "witness to the truth."
So let it work, and after God thank Bishop Martensen for such an exceedingly efficacious emetic.