The "secularization" of Christian faith which Harnack finds so conspicuous a feature of post-apostolic days can be traced to some extent in the New Testament writings themselves.

It thus becomes evident that such an isolation of the field of systematic theology as seemed possible when Frank and Ritschl began their fruitful inquiries is not tenable. We are thrown back upon that bewildering "anywhere," which, however rich it may be in material, yet fails to suggest any definite method of dealing with this material. It is characteristic of much theological discussion today that this broader view of the field from which theological doctrines may be drawn is more or less frankly adopted without any adequate appreciation of what is logically involved in the change of view. As a rule, even men who have been led by present-day biblical scholarship to see the impossibility of applying the biblical norm with anything like the rigidity of former days nevertheless feel it necessary to attempt to retain the conception of an "absolute" or "final" theology which was the natural concomitant of the authority method, but which is fundamentally inconsistent with inductive procedure. While recognizing historically that religious ideas and rites change with the changing needs of man, a theologian may still feel that his central task should be the defense and exposition of at least the "essentials" of the "faith once delivered" rather than the thorough-going adoption of the inductive method.3 Accordingly, the primary task must be to isolate these essentials and to withdraw them from the dissolvent of criticism, in order that they may constitute a canon by which to test doctrinal deliverances. Only if such a norm can be established (so the argument runs) can we have a "dogmatic" theology. If we are to have the truth of God rather than the opinion of men, we must insist on some superempirical test of human opinion. In the place of the former test of scripturalness, we may put the revelation expressed in the New Testament faith;4 or we may employ a Christocentric ideal, according to which the revelation in Christ is normative.5

3 This is made evident in most of the adverse criticisms which are passed upon the work of the religionsgeschichtliche school. See, e. g., Hunziger, Probleme und Aufgabe der gegenwärtigen systematischen Theologie (Leipzig, 1909); and H. R. Mackintosh, "Does the Historical Study of Religions Yield a Dogmatic Theology?" American Journal of Theology, October, 1909.

4 This would seem to be the ideal of Kaehler.

5 E. g., the Ritschlian school in general, W. N. Clarke and Forsythe.

The spontaneous positive response of practical faith to such suggestions often conceals the scientific difficulty involved. That difficulty may be stated as follows: If it be essential to anchor theological conclusions to some absolute standard, the primary task is to determine what that absolute standard is. In the realm of human experience, all is relative. The standard, therefore, must come from some source other than ordinary human experience. The special inspiration of elect men, and the divine nature of Christ are usually cited to guarantee the right of their deliverances to form the norm for religious thinking. But from the point of view of scientific exposition (and systematic theology must meet the scientific demand) the validity of a conclusion depends not upon its withdrawal from criticism,“ but upon its ability to answer the demands of empirical testing at any time. In other words, the very notion of an absolute standard which shall take the place of empirical testing is so out of harmony with the present method of science, that a system which avowedly seeks such a basis for its doctrines is ipso facto under suspicion. To the man of really scientific temper, it makes little difference whether theology defer to the pope or to the Bible or to a superhuman Christ or to certain Heilstatsachen or to a religious a priori as the ultimate court of appeal. So long as any absolutum whatever is erected as an exception to the "natural" order, the theologian will seem like an advocate rather than an investigator. A theology which thus attempts to isolate a supernatural norm must frankly recognize that its task is simply the practical one of expounding the beliefs of those who acknowledge certain presuppositions. Just as Catholic theology will make its appeal only to those who hold the Catholic belief in ecclesiastical authority, so the various forms of Protestant theology of this type must presuppose acceptance of a larger or smaller portion of the ideal of authority. That such theologies will continue to be written is certain; and from the point of view of social psychology they will probably at present "function" more successfully than more thoroughgoing treatises. For the vast majority of religious people are educated by the church to accept as axiomatic the presupposition of a superempirical revelation which shall constitute the norm of right religious thinking.

6 For example, the purpose of strict Ritschlians is to discover for religious faith a basis which cannot be affected by criticism.

But theology of this type, in so far as it departs from Catholicism represents a vanishing confidence rather than an increasing faith. The authority-ideal is strongest when its scope is greatest. The theology which appeals to an entire Bible looks with pity, if not with contempt, upon a theology which takes only a part of the Bible as a standard. To admit that the eschatology of the New Testament is not an abiding element in Christian theology means to ask why any of the New Testament should be regarded as absolute. To grant human limitations to the consciousness of Jesus seems to reduce to very low terms the superempirical residuum on which theology is to build. The modifications which have been compelled by the historical study of the Bible must to one who retains the authorityideal appear as "concessions" rather than as positive contributions. "Even if we must admit them to be true, we may still anchor our faith to this rock, which criticism has not yet touched," is practically the message of many a book today. So long as criticism is feared, or is viewed primarily as a dissolvent, rather than welcomed as a positive factor in the construction of theology, the theologian who unceremoniously puts the critic out of doors has an advantage. He can say what he really wants to; while the theologian who entertains the critic as a companion must be most diplomatic in his utterances, and must give up to his guest space which his more dogmatic colleague can claim for himself.

Is it, then, necessary for theology to stand or fall with the acknowledgment of an absolute norm? If the empirical ideal be espoused, must there be an end of systematic theology? There can be no doubt that this would mean an end of theology as a system of unchangeable doctrines. No science for a moment asserts its doctrines to be final. Theology, on the contrary, has in the past assumed that its content, in essentials, must always be held as true. In ipsa item catholica ecclesia magnopere curandum est, ut id teneamus, quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est. To this day it seems to many Christian thinkers that a change of theological belief is inconsistent with a true faith. . If a doctrine needs to be revised, the inference is that it was false in its older form; and a true faith cannot grow out of falsehood.

But the history of theological thought shows that as a matter of fact

there is not, and never has been, any such static body of doctrine. Even when all the influence of tradition and religious sentiment is on the side of unchanging dogma, the change comes. A doctrine so far removed from empirical tests and so sacredly guarded as that of the Trinity has a history which includes an interesting variety of interpretation. While every branch of the church has been appealing to the same New Testament as the basis for true theology, diversity of opinion so sharp as to lead to religious warfare has marked the history of Christendom.

These changes and diversities are a source of perplexity to theologians so long as the rigid distinction between "true" and "false" is retained. But the general adoption of the historical method, supplemented by the comparatively new point of view of social psychology, now furnishes a principle of explanation which, if followed up, may lead to genuinely constructive results. The historian explains the form and content of religious beliefs by seeking to relate them to the vital problems and ideas which were current in the age in which the convictions took vigorous form. For example, it is now a commonplace that the idea of God during the period covered by the Old Testament literature underwent striking changes, and that these changes can be accounted for by the varying national experience of Israel. The vital needs and the stock of ideas current in the life of a nomadic people were very different from the needs and ideas of a people conscious of its place among empire-seeking nations. A scientific account of the theology of the Old Testament must interpret its doctrines in relation to the problems confronting the makers of religious belief. The key to a proper understanding of doctrine is to be found in a correct apprehension of the problems which demanded solution. The value of a given theology consists in the success with which it furnishes a solution to the historical problems which it faced. But no form of doctrine is regarded by the historian as final or absolute. Those who demand an "absolute" theology are perfectly right in their contention that the historical method cannot yield it.

If we are led by the historian and psychologist to see that the glory and strength of any given theology is to be found in the fact that it successfully answered certain vital problems so that men were

enabled to face the supreme tasks of life with courage and efficiency, may it not be that we have as a result of a study of the history of religious belief the clue to the task of systematic theology? Should not the theologian adopt an inductive method of ascertaining what beliefs ought to be held today by those who are to gain from their religious convictions strength and courage for the supreme tasks of modern life? If, by analyzing the historical conditions underlying the formulation of religious belief in the past, we understand its significance, would not an equally thorough analysis of the conditions of modern life suggest the form of religious belief which would contribute most powerfully to life's victory in our day?

This suggestion gains weight when we observe that even the theologians who preserve the authority-ideal are really concerned to meet the needs of the day. As has been said, the utmost efforts of ecclesiastical conformists have not been able to prevent changes in doctrine. Just now we are seeing a gratifying output of publications which seek to meet squarely the needs of the "modern man." But so long as the authority-ideal is held, these modifications of doctrine, as has been indicated, seem like concessions more or less unwillingly granted rather than as positive achievements in which we may glory. When the discovery of radium compels a radical revision of chemical theory, the change is announced as a positive contribution. But when the theory of evolution compels theology to revise the doctrine of creation, the revision is so slowly and reluctantly made that it appears for a long time as a partial defeat rather than as a triumph of theological thinking. The adoption of the point of view inculcated by historical study should make it possible for the theologian to use the elements which enter into a changed situation in such a way as to make the new theology seem truer to the facts, and therefore better, than the old. One who has traced the growth of the Nicene theology under the stress of the development of the Christian consciousness from a Hebrew to a Greek point of view ought to be able to see in this development something other than a "corruption" of the original gospel. The Nicene theology represents a genuine religious triumph. And if, in the analysis of the modern situation, it should be found that today a different Christology from that of Athanasius is needed, the departure from this ancient