The Homecoming of Bliss Knapp's Orphan

This entry is primarily a response to a couple of comments on the previous entry. The factual information is as accurate as my recollection and memory permitted. Any errors in detail are unintentional and shouldn't affect the gist of it. Clarifications or corrections are welcome.

Bliss Knapp's Destiny of The Mother Church was discussed in a much earlier entry. As was said then, it is an unobjectionable book, being primarily a brief memoir of his parents' activities in the young Christian Science Church. The book does not purport to be a biography of MBE or even to be about her, and she is only mentioned in the last few chapters.

Mr. Knapp's will, with its munificent bequest, apparently stated that if the Christian Science Publishing Society published the book and had it for sale in "essentially all" Reading Rooms TMC would receive the bequest. Bliss Knapp probably passed on circa 1940, but for decades TMC declined to publish the book, even for the multi-million dollar reward. This refusal was not because it was a book without merit, but because one of the book's arguments is that Mrs. Eddy is the woman in "Revelation", which was not an official Church position or one she unambiguously accepted.

The terms of the will were to expire in something like 50 years, or around 1990. If CSPS had not published the book by then, the loot would go to a second legatee, Stanford University (?). Naturally, all that swag just sitting there looking for a home was to TMC like a deliciously plump lamb parading sedately before a pack of hungry wolves. Succumbing to the Siren song of the "elusive spondulicks" the Church Board had, one surmises, a kind of fiscal epiphany in which "Destiny" was suddenly imbued with the irresistible attraction a very wealthy, fat, ugly widow might present to a penniless spiv. In fact, the long-lost orphan was joyously welcomed home in a Dickensian sort of denouement and made the distinguished founder and patriarch of a glorious new tribe of MBE biographies, an event which was heralded with triumphant fanfare. Unfortunately, it was indicative of the moral and ethical rot which has permeated TMC that the first "biography" in their series wasn't even close to being a biography of anyone, and certainly not one of MBE.

At this point, the progress of events became a confusing scrum. At TMC there was a headlong rush to get the book printed and for sale in Reading Rooms. That some RR's refused to carry it undoubtedly necessitated the creative shoehorning of some data into the verification shoe. Owing perhaps to more than a little unconvincing "compliance" with the terms of the will, a judge decided in the end to divide the spoils equally between TMC and Stanford University. Each left the contest with something like $90 million. Not a bad few months work for TMC even if their rectitude had acquired a new dent or two and another thick layer of tarnish from the perfectly understandable (but denied) concession to cupidity.

In short, the honest Knapp book is nothing like the Gill thing in intent or content. Gill's verbal haggis (no insult to Scotland intended) is akin to the vicious Dakin and Milmine muggings of yesteryear. It is also worth noting that Ms Gill lists both Dakin and Milmine in her bibliography and quite possibly mined these two septic tanks for some baseless, but smelly tidbits.

He Who Bows Down to the Beast Wears His Mark

In "Rudimental Divine Science" Mrs. Eddy clearly implies the necessity for "deep systematic thinking" in Christian Science and for the sincere student to possess a mind which is "inquisitive, plastic, and tractable". This is a wonderfully succinct prescription for growth in Christian Science, one further comment could not hope to enhance.

* * * * * * * *

Every member of The Mother Church has a prescribed duty to his Leader, Mary Baker Eddy. This duty would certainly include deep respect, ineffable gratitude, and tender affection for her and her lifelong, selfless sacrifices for mankind. It would also involve a ready willingness to refute in her behalf any calumny, misrepresentation, or unjust criticism. To embrace, tolerate, dither over, or simply blow off the Gillian Gill book on MBE is to violate that duty, to become a humbug, a canker, a noisome blot on the Christian Science landscape, and no disingenuous sophistry will erase this mark of the beast.

More importantly, if that is possible, the failure of committees on publication, lecturers, and, implicitly, teachers to fulfill their respective Church Manual mandated duties by boldly and unambiguously refuting the disgusting statements in this book about their Leader is craven and disloyal in the extreme and demonstrates their lack of fitness for these positions. These betrayals also reveal clearly the beast such as these have obsequiously chosen to grovel before and obey. That the lies about her in this book have now been ignored by them for years gives added force to the shame of their pusillanimous silence.

When the day of sifting comes, and it will, those who decided that the almighty dollar is more precious to them than the Almighty God may find their bargain with the beast to have been a very hard one indeed. To forsake the Discoverer of Christian Science in a time of need and fail to stoutly defend her, all the while stuffing one's pockets with the pelf this dear woman's Church has made possible, is an apostasy that will ultimately cost far more than any temporal emolument seemed to provide.

Some Helpful Definitions (Maybe)

Gillian Gill book on MBE: A cesspool falsely advertised as a mountain spring by hucksters who don't know, don't care to know, or who cynically ignore the difference.

Full-text Bible lessons: A very small boat which enables the indifferent sailor to leave the sturdy docks behind and indulge the dangerous delusion that he's got with him everything he needs to ride out storms, which are much closer than he thinks.

C.S. Journal and Sentinel: With some few exceptions, bland, stupor-inducing bumf.

C.S. Monitor: A print Tom Thumb long wandering and lost, and demons (not birds this time) have eaten all the bread crumbs showing the way back home.

The Christian Science Standard of Healing: In its most recent iteration, a soothing bromide for the healthy, wealthy, and wise and a blind alley for the afflicted.

Weekly Bible lessons: A potentially nourishing meal prepared by chefs with questionable cordon bleu qualifications.

Lectures and talks (?): Often an oral pea soup which permits the herding of the befuddled quarry into application pens where they can be tagged and released as useful paying members of The Mother Fog Machine.

C.S. Reading Rooms: In too many instances, a hang-out and computer game room for any youths or adults bored enough to wander in; a sales venue for an excrescence like the Gill book. The "reading" part of the name has largely gone the way of cabooses on trains.

C.S. Sunday School: Too often, a corral where youthful hyperactivity and misbehavior is partially tamed by meaningless games and schoolyard banter. Dedicated buckaroos can usually be found standing forlornly outside the fence.

Christian love expressed in churches: Too often, bonhomie directed only to those in one's own select camp or social class. Demurrers, independent thinkers, and the socially insignificant can easily find themselves relegated to the frosty Siberia of the peanut gallery.

C.S. practitioners and teachers: These days a decidedly mixed bag. For the unwary or uninformed, choosing either is a C.S. version of "Wheel of Fortune".

Toxic Assets: Theirs and Ours

We hear a lot these days about big banks whose financial portfolios are bloated with and in thrall to hundreds of billions of dollars in what are frequently referred to as toxic assets. The huge amounts locked up uselessly in these financial instruments keeps the banks from being able to function normally because their money is tied up in stuff they can't get rid of because no one wants it, at least not at a price the bank would accept.

The thought occurred to me that many of us may be unable to demonstrate Christian Science as completely as we should because toxic assets in our mental portfolios corrupt and poison our sense of Truth, of Christ's everpresence within us. Unlike the banks' toxic assets, however, any bad stuff on our mental books can and must be gotten rid of. It is instructive to look up the few sentences in Science and Health where Mrs. Eddy uses the verb "rid" and then continue with renewed vigor the defenestration from the window of consciousness these detrimental states of thought which stifle spiritual progress.

The number of times Mrs. Eddy uses "rid" may be few, but as we set about ridding ourselves of all error, the days, months, and years of invigorating spiritual activity and progress awaiting us will be many.

Note: In Mozart's opera "The Magic Flute" the Queen of Night padlocks Papageno's mouth shut for being mendacious and boastful. The birdcatcher is thereby reduced to silence or humming. Could this explain...? Surely not, but it's an intriguing possibility.

Lament in c

The anticipated appearance of the hymnal supplement (actually the second supplement, since hymns 401-429 in the present hymnal are a supplement) could serve as a fresh opportunity for tut-tutting, but it may also be another sign of the sad state of music in branch churches and of the churches themselves. Those who awaited the supplement with greatly subdued expectations will probably not be pleasantly surprised.

A copy of an impartial and quite thorough ten-page letter from a professional musician to the Board of Directors in Boston was sent to me. Since many copies are doubtless floating about it can probably be sniffed out locally if one is interested in seeing it.

The letter discusses each of the 33 new hymns, numbers 430-462. The musician's conclusion is that overall they fall short, perhaps considerably so (my words), of meeting the requirements of Article XIX of the Church Manual. A number are, it would seem, woefully amateurish. It is doubtful that churches with professional or competent musicians will be scrambling to use many of them.

In part, it seems likely that this supplement was just poorly executed by persons who scarcely know music themselves and who simply supplied "hymns" compatible with their level of expertise. But it may also be an indication of the dismal state of music in many Christian Science churches. It is probable that professional or competent musicians and soloists are unaffordable or unavailable to many churches with small memberships or even to some with larger ones. Willing, though unqualified, members and Sunday School students may be filling the musical vacuum in many churches.

Mrs. Eddy gave music a prominent role in her Sunday Services and Wednesday Meetings and expected quality and quantity, so it is regrettable that churches may well have gotten what they needed and wanted with the new supplement. Can one be forgiven if the thought of gaggles of amateur music-makers dutifully committing sacrilegious mayhem on a crazy-quilt repertoire of hymns, solos, preludes, and postludes finds him sneaking in a furtive prayer to St. Cecilia? Yet another item for the already crowded "prayer and fasting" list.

"If...the light that is in thee be darkness...."

A couple of decades ago, give or take a few years, the chief operating officers of The First Church of Christ, Scientist, LLC, in Boston seem to have come to the dismaying conclusion that business was down and getting worse. The high price (i.e., standards) of their merchandise did not even attract many nose prints on the display windows from curious passers-by.

They apparently then decided to drag poor Kaspar Hauser out of his dank dungeon once again and try singing the praises of darkness and dry black crusts to those who suffered violent retchings from trying to digest Science and Health and who were also intensly pained by the light of divine Principle. Since all are welcome to join Kaspar in his dungeon and there are no annoying entrance requirements, it would appear many have gladly joined him there in what has become a new and improved Christian Science church. One has but to peek his beak inside the dungeon door et voila! faster than he can say "church manual" he's a member in good standing.

To tidy this brief entry up a bit, there remains one nagging question: What few crumbs now remain of Mary Baker Eddy's Church of Christ, Scientist to make membership therein worth the bother?

The Day The Church Stood Still

It was decided that the scribe of this blog and his merry little band of cheerleaders should pay a visit to The Mother Church. Our first desire was to meet, however briefly, with the Board of Directors to reassure them we bear no ill will. Church Manuals in hand, we were directed to the Publishing Society Building. When the Directors came into our presence they refused, however, to take our proffered hands or speak to us, but trod on silent as Trappists and grim-faced as a procession of men condemned to hang within the hour. Our desire to reaffirm to them our loyalty to our Leader and to her Church Manual was rebuffed. "Klaatu barada nikto" shouted one wag as they shuffled away.

We then decided to visit the MBE Library and have a latte at the coffee bar. We had the place entirely to ourselves, and there was an ominous chill in the air. One of our little band read some passages from the Gillian Gill book on Mrs. Eddy. "I confess to sympathizing with those who--like the eminent lawyer and United States Senator William Chandler...consider Mrs. Eddy to be deluded. I can raise a wry chuckle with those, like Mark Twain, who see her as a mercenary old humbug." (p. 297) "That this spiritual, even theological, interpretation of the intense discipline Mrs. Eddy required of her staff at times masked, or served as alibi for, some real defects in Mrs. Eddy's character cannot be denied. She could be bad tempered, irrational, capricious, inconsiderate, domineering, sanctimonious, unkind." (p. 405) "While Hanna was laid low in mind and body by the torrent of Mrs. Eddy's criticisms, the older men looked on, horrified that their leader should act more like a virago than an angel, and that she should seem so quick to forget all the services her officials had loyally rendered her in the past." (p. 444) They build this monument in her name and then rejoice in the publishing of a book containing that and much more. This should tell people something. Then, to add injury to insult, the coffee bar was closed and we didn't even get our lattes.

Our final destination was the original Mother Church, Mary Baker Eddy's glorious prayer in stone, whose wedge cuts, figuratively, deep into the lie of life, truth, intelligence, and substance in matter. As we walked about in awe and wonder, thinking of her stupendous Discovery and gift to mankind, someone noticed a figure leaving Mother's Room. "I think I know who it is", said one. "A pretender, a soi-disant MBE, a specter?" said another, a little unnerved. "I've seen that face, the one who said Science and Health was a 'general-interest book'", said a third, and then the figure was gone, or was it never there?

Now perfectly still, the atmosphere in the church became suffused with a gentle radiance, and we knew that if everything at the Church Center crumbled to dust, all of it but this one priceless edifice, it would be enough. It would be more than enough, for Christian Science cannot be taken from us. Kneeling in gratitude for these great blessings we knew that of all earth's wonders and treasures, this place was the most holy, sweet, and sacred.

Note: Some of you "little band of cheerleaders" have already commented on the rather smug and self-righteous comment on the previous entry. A few of that writer's concerns are touched upon above, sometimes obliquely. If this Olympian keeper of the true flame of Christian Science thinks we are so few and so insignificant, why did he even bother to waste his time commenting? Because he knows that however few or many our number, we represent hundreds and maybe thousands more who feel the same. That is what troubles them and why someone felt the need to issue a put-down. It is, however, but the tremulous squeak of hired loyalty, which hears an insistent and alarming scratching at the door and cringes.