An
inquiry into disability treatment and images in
the revival sermons of Dwight L. Moody
Abbreviations
(Full
information will be found in the bibliography)
FDM James
F. Findlay, Jr., Dwight
L. Moody: American Evangelist 1837-1899.
GFH E.
J. Goodspeed, A
Full History of the Wonderful Career of Moody and Sankey.
MGA Dwight
L. Moody, The
Gospel Awakening.
MGR Dwight
L. Moody, The
Great Redemption.
SEM M.
Laird Simmons, Evenings
with Moody and Sankey.
The
search that lies behind this paper is the reaction of the church to
human suffering. This reaction is examined as an indication of what
the church believes about the concept of theodicy and how it values
people. It is particularly oriented toward the church’s view of
physical and mental disabilities: how has the church asked the
question “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he
was born blind?” It also asks how the answer, “neither
this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's
works might be revealed in him” has been interpreted.
The
interpretation offered herein is based on the idea that persons with
disabilities should be equal members of society, and it evaluates the
material covered with that assumption. There are many theological
justifications for this stance, which have been the subject of other
inquiries. These arguments will not be covered here, but are
mentioned as so the reader may be aware of the lens through which the
material has been filtered.
I
Walter
Rauschenbusch wrote that the hymns popular in his day were
“individualistic.” They called one to serve Christ, but
did so “without, however, connecting such service with service
to our fellowmen.” He also complained that they were oriented
to “personal gains of bliss or heavenly reward,” and
teach “resignation or defer all hope of correction to the
future life.”
These comments could be used to evaluate the revival movements of the
last half of the nineteenth century, such as those led by Dwight L.
Moody and Ira D. Sankey. These two were the leading revival team of
their day, and it would be difficult to deny that the hymns
associated with them proclaim such a message. But what of the sermons
of Moody? How do they compare?
Rauschenbusch’s
critique is a good entrance point to the attitudes expressed by Moody
during his peak revival years, 1875-1879, when he conducted massive
campaigns in Brooklyn, Philadelphia, New York, Chicago, Boston, and
Cleveland. This was the time of the “Gilded Age,” when
many people were focused on their own acquisitions, and were
insensitive to the sufferings of others until violence forced
attention.
This
inquiry will attempt to understand the presumptions that lie behind
Moody’s views on disabilities, as well as the treatment of
people with disabilities. Aside from statements that touch directly
on disabilities, topics in this area are the nature of heaven and the
resurrection body, the nature of healing, the cause and effect of
injuries, disease, and accidents, attitudes toward gender, and
attitudes toward the disadvantaged. “Disability” is taken
in a wide sense of any bodily characteristic that impedes or inhibits
full participation in society. Today this generally means mobility
obstacles, but through much of history, being female has been a
serious disability.
There
are extensive biographies surveying Moody and his work, and most of
his revival sermons are readily available. This study draws primarily
on the sermons from the peak revival years (it is important to keep
in mind that Moody’s later years would produce some striking
differences). It makes use of the biographers, for they are useful
for providing a foundation, although they tend to focus on such areas
as his organizational methods and his general theology. They touch on
his social views in general, but none consider his attitude toward
disabilities.
II
God’s
proclamations are to all sinners. Everybody can get out of prison
that wants to. The trouble is they don’t want to go. They had
rather be captives to some darling sin like lust, appetite,
covetousness, than to be liberated. You need not be stumbling over
election. The proclamation is “Whosoever will, let him come and
drink of the water of life freely.”
A
formative area for this study is an outline of certain areas of
Moody’s theology. Moody was a layman, without formal
ministerial or theological training.
Therefore, it is not surprising that he did not make formal
theological statements, nor is it surprising that many of his
statements lack refinement. There are, however, theological
presumptions, lying underneath his statements, which one may discern.
These include not only concepts of God, but patterns which indicate
values that speak of God’s ordering of human society, values
that rank some areas as more important than others, and values that
affect his other thoughts.
In
broad terms, Moody was an Arminian. This places him within a general
nineteenth- century theological shift away from Calvinism. Moody
believed that humans have the ability to freely make a choice about
their salvation. Concomitant with this ability is that salvation is
available to all. Moody’s revivalist system presumes this
freedom and ability; and the offer is open to all who will come.
Findlay
characterizes Moody’s theory of atonement as a theory of “moral
influence,” and thus one which was in tune with the emerging
liberalism of the day. This is correct insofar as Moody focuses on
the atonement as an act that breaks down human resistance to God,
rather than appeasing divine wrath or justice, but Moody’s is
not the language of “moral influence” writers.
Most importantly, Moody expresses a strong sense of individual sin
and depravity. Moody spoke clearly of the need for regeneration:
there “must be a new creation” which is the work of God
alone.
In one sermon, he told a crowd that even God cannot “mend this
old erring nature”—the point being that human effort
would be even less effective. What humans need, Moody says, is the
new birth—regeneration—and only that.
Although education has a place, that place is not within the sphere
of religious conversion, where it is completely ineffective.
This is contrary to a primary underlying tenet of moral influence
atonement theories. For Moody, humans have a choice, but the work is
God’s alone. This is significant to any view of disabilities:
if there is not a strong sense of sin, the question of John 9 may be
answered in a completely different way.
Moody
was also clear on the centrality of the Bible read literally. In a
New York sermon, he said churches had become weak because preachers,
preferring eloquence, did not preach from the Bible. Moody claimed
that people had become tired of eloquence without substance.
Goodspeed says that this attitude accounts for Moody’s success,
for people were seeking a “simple and easily-to-be-understood”
presentation. Goodspeed adds that the “plan of salvation and
the promises and mercies of the Father are often so mysteriously
clouded, that people do not really understand what is required of
them.”
These
kind of statements not only tell about the place of the Bible in
Moody’s thought, they locate him squarely in a camp that
distrusted intellectuals and valued pragmatic results. Not only did
he de-emphasize the role of human knowledge in salvation, he saw such
knowledge as a menace. Moody classified intellectual objections or
questions that keep one from making the decision for Christ as sin.
We
can also see that this distrust of education became valued, and thus
a continuing part of the revival movement. For example, Goodspeed
praises Moody’s lack of polish, saying that “to Mr. Moody
blunders are nothing, provided he gains the end of his ministry and
wins souls. Efficiency is the only thing he cares about.”
This overwhelming desire for efficiency leaves behind anything that
does not function well. This subtle pragmatic acceptance of Darwinism
is an important aspect of Moody’s social thought. It has
significant consequences, to which we shall turn later.
Goodspeed
further says, commenting on one of Moody’s sermons, that
“theological critics might have said there was nothing in it;
but only eternity will reveal how much there came out
of it.”
This gives us an insight on Moody’s overall views: what really
matters is conversion—souls saved for heaven. In the light of
that, little else that happens on earth is important. This is a
crucial point for our overall query. In the end, Moody does not care
about disabilities: they will, for those who choose Christ,
ultimately be gone. Furthermore, whatever we know about them will not
prepare us for that day. This is another powerful influence on his
views, one that feeds back into his explanations of the miracle
stories, and one that remains a strong influence today.
All
of this plays into the first of what one survey refers to as Moody’s
“grand themes”: a direct approach, with no room for
pretense, that seeks “real” people.
These real people are not only thoroughly converted, they also work
with the “efficiency” that was the watch-word of the
times, making the most of their God-given abilities to bring about
conversion, the only thing that really mattered to them in the long
term.
A
second of these “grand themes” found in Moody’s
work is God’s love. Unlike some revivalists, Moody did not
preach the terrors of hell.
Fear would not bring repentance, which is necessary for true
conversions that endure.
The love of God is important because it reflects into the believer’s
life, and changes him. Having love of others is sign of the new
birth, and a source of assurance. Further, it is a witness to the
world when one can love as God does, for loving even those who hate
one cannot be done by human power.
Moody
sought conversion out of love as a desire for what is best in the
long term. Here is where we begin to see the strains at the seams of
his thought. We should expect such strains, for Moody was not
systematically trained. As we shall see, there is a strong
individualistic component to his thought, one that seems to undermine
the purpose of the “grand themes.” The result of this
individualism lays a foundation for a strain of thought that persists
to the present day and is highly damaging to people with
disabilities.
III
Another
thing I have noticed, that no man who has any standing in his church
has ever come to want. People talk of the church not being
benevolent, but I say they take care of their poor. It is the people
whom the church has not reached that come to want. Some of you say
you cannot afford to join the church—that you cannot afford to
pay $10 a year for a pew. If you give up your cigars and go less to
the theatre, you will find it quite easy to do it.
Moody’s
life is often portrayed in an Horatio Alger-style tale of the
self-determined overcoming of great obstacles. For example, Goodspeed
sees the death of his father four years after Dwight’s birth as
divine providence, weaning him from earthly desires and forcing
“physical labor” which would bring about the “corporal
vigor” that made Moody’s exhausting schedule possible.
This is the classic story of success through hard work, one that, not
incidentally, overcomes great poverty. Findlay notes, though, that
there was undoubtedly a great amount of assistance offered by the
extended family. While undoubtedly not wealthy, the young Moody was
reasonably comfortable.
It would appear that in the formative years, he never had to face the
overwhelming despair of the ghetto, life with an alcoholic, or
inability to work. Therefore it is hardly surprising that he was able
to glibly proclaim that faith and hard work that are capable of
overcoming all obstacles, and would invariably result in success. The
result, as Findlay says, is that Moody “had a ready explanation
for poverty that made it appear as though it was the inevitable
outcome of laziness and wasteful habits.”
It is clear from his sermons that one of Moody’s presumptions
is that a Christian, as a person who has made the right choices,
spiritually and economically, would never suffer serious economic
distress.
We are well on the way to a system that links wealth and faith, and
sees the lack of either indicating a lack of the other.
Because
he saw poverty as the result of disobedient choices, Moody felt
little obligation to offer assistance to those who suffered from it.
Not only that, it was contrary to the Christian’s charge to
love his neighbor to give help to such persons, for it would not be
loving to give help that would only be turned into drink. Moody was
even, at one point, bold enough to say that it would be good if
beggars should die, for they “are of no good.” He claimed
that many of the stories of need were “sham cases” of
those who refuse to work. Finally, he said that suffering is good,
because it will force people to work.
Poverty
is one result of disobeying God, but Moody did not stop there. He
repeatedly stated, not unlike the New England Puritans, that
large-scale troubles result from disobedience.
Moody has thereby created a system that, if one has faith, ensures
that his affirmations will not fail—and that anyone who
challenges him is not a person of faith. Individual problems result
from individual choices. If there is systemic unrest or distress,
such as unemployment at a level that makes finding a job impossible,
it is still the result of disobedience.
Findlay
says that Moody “never questioned in any ultimate sense the
values of the ruthlessly acquisitive society” of his day.
The correctness of this statement depends on how one reads
“ultimate.” Moody did not challenge the underlying
presumption of this attitude, but he did speak out against various
aspects of this attitude. He also limited this attitude; for the
gospel is ultimate, and he did challenge those who acquired wealth
without regard for God.
Too many Christians were “conformed” to the world, he
said to one audience, adding that a real Christian would lose their
taste for fashionable society.
We should also note that, when confronted by individual cases that
did not fit his pattern, Moody could change his view of that case,
although he held fast to his blanket statements in the sermons. For
example, in an address to workers at a revival, he said that the
wealthy should direct their efforts to making “investments for
the Lord” as much as for themselves. Included in this
investment would be orphans, who were trapped in a life of poverty,
struggling against “odds that you know nothing about.”
A
particularly revealing incident in this area comes in the course of a
sermon on the Ten Commandments that evaluated their observance in the
society of his day. In his discussion of the fourth commandment,
there is a prediction of a blood bath far worse than the war if
Sabbath desecration would not be ended. Sabbath-breaking, Moody said,
is a worse scourge than was slavery. He then pleaded with working men
not to give up the Sabbath, for if they should, “these
capitalists will take your Sabbath and make you work seven days a
week, and you will not earn a dollar more than you now do in six
days.”
His implication that working men could influence capitalists is
interesting in itself. Of immediate importance is that Moody took the
group “capitalists” to task for encouraging a relaxation
of Sabbath-keeping. So there was a limit to acquisitiveness, which
separates Moody from many of his era.
Moody’s
challenges to the system are muted, however, by his (mis-)use of
metaphor. He was fond of saying that a Christian’s real
treasure lies in the heavenly realm. No one is truly poor if they
have accepted Christ.
One comes to God as a beggar and leaves as a prince.
Salvation is worth more than any earthly treasure.
This is true if one understands that there is a metaphorical
comparison being drawn between the most lavish earthly riches
conceivable and the far surpassing, but very different, riches of
life with God (and as we shall see when Moody discusses heaven, he is
aware of this difference). But Moody’s statement that one is
poor because he is too lazy to accept Christ encourages
literalization of such metaphors.
This becomes a problem when we turn to Moody’s statements that
speak of sin in terms of disabilities.
Moody’s
challenge is further muted because he limited the role of the system.
If there was an economic or social problem, it was a problem of
personal faith and effort. With these revival sermons falling close
on the heels of the Civil War, there was certainly much involuntary
poverty, such as war widows trying to support families. So it was not
hard for Moody to pull on the emotional strings with stories of
miraculous deliverance, such as a widow who was provided with a house
when her daughter prayed to God in distress.
The point Moody is after is trust in God, but, as we shall see with
stories of disabilities, he makes unfortunate links and examples. The
house was provided, but nothing was said about the possibility of
personal duty of Christians to be engaged in making such provisions.
The
shape of our problem is, then, that Moody made broad stereotypes, and
the implications of these stereotypes undermine some of his expressed
desires. For example, Moody said, “thank God that his gospel is
for the poor as well as for the rich” and “the gospel is
to be preached to all classes.”
But as Findlay notes, Moody’s meetings attracted the middle
class, not the poor. He also gives us a clue as to why this was:
Moody’s messages, with their individualism, were comfortable to
the middle class.
But it needs to be added that Moody had little to offer the poor. In
a question-and-answer session, Moody called for “plainer
churches” without debts, because asking for money drives people
off. But he then made it clear that this is not a reference to the
poor. He said that “many can’t come” to church, and
have “nothing to wear.” The response of the church should
be “go down to their rooms” and hold prayer meetings.
There is nothing here about making the churches more accessible to
these people, or making them feel more comfortable in the church. The
obligation remains on the well-to-do to share their bounty, but it is
by going to the poor—not by bringing the poor to be among them.
This reinforced the prevalent idea of charity as a gracious gift from
a superior to an inferior, rather than it being a serious attempt to
improve the lot of another.
These
ideas hold several implications for an evaluation of Moody’s
treatment of disabilities. He thinks that faith alone will bring an
end to one’s problems—an idea that will return when we
examine his reading of miracle stories. Disabilities have typically
meant poverty, or at least lower income, so statements that poverty
results from laziness are troubling, as is the idea that charity is
not an effort to bring real improvement. We may also note Moody’s
fondness for making blanket generalizations that even he realizes do
not hold up. While these generalizations are easy to find and
analyze, his exceptions make it difficult to state what he would do
in any given situation. A second aspect of these generalizations is
his emphasis on self-determination. Moody does understand that some
people would not have equal opportunity for self-determination. But
considering that typically, the generalizations are stated publicly,
and the exceptions in private or in other subsidiary ways, he has
laid the foundation for many abusive attitudes. One of the most
frightening (to today’s vision) is the wish that the beggar
would just die off. What would Moody say today in the debate over
assisted suicide? (It should be noted that most disability groups
oppose this idea, because they see it as opening the door to forced
euthanasia of those whose medical costs are seen to outweigh their
“contribution value” to society). When “efficiency”
is the watchword, only those who can perform well are contributors.
If it is acceptable to allow the poor who do not contribute to die,
why not those who are not efficient or costly? In this, Moody stands
in distinct contrast to Augustine, who places a high value on life,
and calls for all lives to be preserved and honored, for they come
from God.
He also stands in contrast to Buddhism, which strongly affirms the
inherent value of all life, and teaches compassionate action in favor
of the disadvantaged.
We
might also examine a story that Moody told about an engaged man who
enlisted during the Civil War. His fiancee received a letter from a
comrade, explaining that he had lost both of his arms in a battle.
Because he “would be dependent on the charities of a cold
world,” he broke off the engagement. Her response was to refuse
that break, “and now they are living a happy life.”
It would seem (at least to this writer) that such a sermon would be a
good place for a prophetic
voice to say something about the “cold world” in which a
disabled soldier becomes dependent on a pittance of charity. Here is
where we see an important distinction: Moody was, as Findlay’s
title says, an “evangelist.” His goal was single-minded,
the acquisition of souls. He is a clear example of how enterprise had
taken over the church and shaped its goal. Anything that might be an
obstacle to the mission of acquisition fell to the side in pursuit of
that goal—such as the critical voice of the prophet that has
historically challenged presumptions.
This
is, at least from the evangelist’s viewpoint, all to his
benefit. Moody created a situation where he could not lose or be
subjected to serious criticism by anyone who was faithful. Social
standing or physical nature is irrelevant. If one is poor, he can
still be rich in Christ. If one is blind, he can still see in Christ.
If one should express dissatisfaction with some part of his status,
such as mistreatment by others or involuntary poverty, he is, at best
complaining and worldly-minded, and obviously not to be listened to.
At worst he is ignorant of how God orders the world.
It is this kind of spiritualization and misreading of metaphor that
makes Moody’s inner message so dangerous to persons with
disabilities.
IV
We
are told that there are 3,000,000 people in the world who are called
blind. Every one calls them blind because they haven’t their
natural sight. But do you ever think how many are spiritually blind
in this world? . . . you should pity yourself if you are spiritually
blind.
At
the outset of this paper, I mentioned that being female is one of the
oldest disabilities in human existence. Women have long been excluded
from various church activities, not because of a lack of gifts, but
because of their gender. When gender is viewed in this light (one of
the many which are possible), we begin to get a grip on how Moody
viewed disability more closely. At a meeting in New York, he was
asked about the role of women. He replied that this “is a
controverted point” which he would not discuss, but noted that
he did not care to see his wife preach.
Moody’s policy of not discussing controversial issues, such as
this, would appear to be an attempt to preserve unity among various
churches (he also refused to discuss his thoughts on members clapping
during services). But the question would not go away. Asked what he
would do if there were 20 or 30 women, and 2 or 3 men present, he
replied that he would call it a “woman’s meeting”
and let the women participate. Asked about the role of women in a
general prayer meeting, he again refused to answer.
At another point he allowed that women could work in inquiry rooms
with other women, for “no one can visit so well as a woman.”
Furthermore, he saw great use for women as missionaries, because a
woman can always talk to another woman.
He gave women a direct, personal role in Christian work, but kept
them in place: they may visit, having sufficient leisure time for
that, and most of all, they need to train children to be religious.
This is not at all ground-breaking—Moody is not allowing a new
role, but reinforcing tradition. Much of what Moody has to say runs
in this vein of affirming the existing order. This understanding is
significant as we turn to the area of disabilities and the miracle
stories of the gospels.
The
miracle stories seem to have been favorites of Moody. They are
concrete illustrations, and there are immediate, radical changes
described in them. Miracle stories are always an area of special
interest to those with disabilities, for they hold a promise of
healing. This promise sometimes results in unrealistic expectations,
not only on the part of one who desires healing, but also by those
outside the story who view the stories as prescriptive. In such a
view, the miracles are not examples of God’s grace, but
descriptions of actions which can be emulated by anyone: if you have
faith as these people did, you too will be healed. And here, where
Moody makes most of his references to physical disabilities, he
leaves us with this idea.
As an
example, Moody spoke at one point about the inability of the church
to cast out devils. He made it clear that he believes in demons of
drinking and infidelity. Then, he turned to Mark 5, saying that it
tells of three “incurable cases” healed by Jesus. When
Christ is present, there is no such thing as an “incurable
hospital.” He then spoke of the woman healed of her bleeding,
saying that when one goes to “earthly physicians they grow
worse all the time,” for this is an attempt to work out one’s
own salvation without regeneration. Lunacy, alcoholism, and
debilitation are all diseases, and God can heal any disease, Moody
affirms.
Speaking at another point about the healing in John 5, he made a
similar claim about homelessness and physical disease.
This points to a significant difference: Augustine affirmed the value
of medical treatment,
and the teachings of Buddhism resulted in the establishment of
hospitals, and even a modern encouragement to practice medicine.
But Moody will have none of that: medicine is a waste of effort.
Not
only does Moody seem to affirm that one can be healed if he has
faith, his language strongly equates sin with disability. (It should
be kept in mind that the hymns of the day also use this kind of
language, and at one of his revival meetings, such an image would
therefore be even stronger than from the sermon alone). He told of
his conversion experience: “when the Holy Ghost first opened my
eyes, I thought how blind I had been!” He added that the world
is blind, and that Christ “came into the world that the blind
might see and recover.”
In another sermon, Moody says that the world “is just one large
blind asylum,” and that “Satan makes us blind.”
In the first and third cases, Moody is certainly speaking of a sense
of spiritual unawareness. In the second, it is difficult to tell, for
the gospels speak of healing physical blindness. The danger here is
the same as with Moody’s earlier-noted uses of metaphor. He was
not careful with his imagery, thereby laying the ground for
literalization. He was also insensitive to any blind person who might
have been present at his meetings,
which adds to the understanding of why he could not reach the lower
classes.
Moody’s
use of the miracle stories reinforces an understanding that anyone
who suffers is feeling the results of sin. In one sermon, Moody
referred to Luke 13, to discuss the woman whom Jesus healed from an
eighteen-year illness. He was quick to note that the gospel records
that the woman had been ill because she was bound by Satan. He then
stated that she was freed from disease because “Christ
delivered her,” and that she walked home.
It cannot be denied that the gospel does provide this link of Satan
and illness. Nor would one would expect Moody to read the “spirit”
of Luke 13.11 as anything but a demonic force. But even at this
level, he does not explore the idea that such a possession might be
involuntary. His exposition equates the illness with voluntary
sinfulness; for if one chooses Jesus, he can be delivered from vulgar
language or alcoholism, as well as paralysis. There is no indication
in Moody’s individualistic language that one might ever be in
some binding, gripping condition that cannot be overcome by a
decision to give up sin—a decision that one only has to make by
his own choice. This view reinforces the self-made, success-oriented
milieu of Moody’s day. With attitudes such as this that
obscured people’s view of the nature of social problems, it is
small wonder that violence had to erupt before social conditions were
taken as a serious problem beyond the reach of secular platitudes
about education or religious ones about conversion.
Moody
made a similar equivalence of sin and human troubles in an exposition
of the healing story of Mark 2 and Luke 5. His exposition starts with
the faith of the four who brought a paralyzed man in through the
roof. This gives Moody an opportunity for an excursus: these four
were working in faith while philosophers tried to reason out what was
happening. This anti-intellectual remark is an interesting reading of
an account that simply notes the presence of a crowd, but one that
certainly fits Moody’s overall purpose. But now, suddenly, as
Moody tells the story, the man who was let through the roof has
leprosy,
which must be “cleansed.” As Moody returns to his
exposition, the man reverts to suffering from paralysis: “My
friends, you can’t take palsied souls to a better place than to
the feet of Jesus.” Moody continues that the point of the story
is to teach us that God honors faith. He does, in its course,
distinguish the forgiveness of sin which the man received from the
healing.
Moody’s
reading here is problematic. He introduces a twist: this time, he
does not directly equate the man’s disease with sin. The acts
of forgiveness and healing are separated in his exposition. However,
Moody’s mid-course change of the man’s ailment from
paralysis to leprosy raises questions. Is this a confusion that
results from ignorance of the difference of the two? Or is this a
statement that seeks to link paralysis, whose physical cure is
readily visible—requiring only that one get up and walk to
display it—to a condition that requires the examination of a
priest before it is resolved? By referring to the need for cleansing,
Moody seems to be leaning in the latter direction. This creates an
image that links the man’s paralysis to a sinful condition. As
with his talk about blindness, Moody also gives one cause to think
this way, for he says elsewhere that “the leprosy of sin is a
thousand times worse than the Eastern leprosy.”
Moody’s
bluntness in saying that it would be just as well with him beggars
were to die off has an equivalent in his direct speech about
disabilities. He spoke of a story he read about a shipwreck, where
there was an insufficient number of lifeboats. One man, quite
determined, tried to climb into one boat. Someone cut off his right
hand. He tried again to get in, and his left hand was cut off. He
then grasped the boat with his teeth. At this point, he was taken
into the boat. Moody said that the man lived “because he was in
earnest,” adding “if it is the right hand off with it, if
it is the right eye out with it. The kingdom of God is worth more
than all the world.”
Moody’s illustration would seem to indicate that he believes
Matthew 5.29-30 should be taken literally, which furthers concerns
that his image of sin and physical ailments is not metaphorical.
The
nature of the resurrection body plays a significant role in the
writings of antiquity and medieval ages. Moody, however discusses
eschatology only once in these sources. The main purpose of that
discussion is to affirm the Bible as the literal Word of God. He says
that there is a real heaven with a location: it is “as much a
place as Cleveland is.”
In the same sermon, Moody makes a distinction that shows some
understanding of metaphor: the images of gold and other riches refer
to the presence of Jesus, the angels, and the saints.
One has to wonder why he can make this distinction here, but speak
literally about disfigurement as punishment for sin. It would
certainly concern him that people should be converted by the love of
God, rather than a desire for riches, requiring that he make this
distinction. But his language of sin and disability could lead to
false conversions out of a hope for healing. If that healing did not
occur, it would show a lack of real faith, for if there was real
faith, healing would occur.
Moody has again constructed a system wherein his pronouncements
cannot fail. Furthermore, his link of free choice with poverty,
faith, and healing creates a situation that demeans anyone who
suffers from a disabling condition.
For
all this, Moody was willing to admit that at least some disabilities
come naturally. It is not surprising that these are the ones he might
have expected to befall him. Discussing the choice of a Bible, he
said that “it is a good thing to get a good-sized Bible,
because you will grow old by and by, and your sight may grow poor and
you won’t want to give up the one you have been to reading in
after it has come to seem like a sort of life-long companion.”
Perhaps, like many other people, he realized that there is a natural
change in the body with age. But he did not want to admit that
whatever might befall him could be classed with ailments resulting
from sin.
V
I
believe the reason we do not have better work in this country is
because there is so much sham. We do not go down to the bottom of
things. O may God give us a revival of honesty! downright, upright
honesty! that is what we want — right living! If it costs the
right eye, out with it!
Gundry’s
remaining “grand theme” of Moody is unity among all
Christians—providing they are “evangelical.”
As a counterpart to Christian unity, Moody called for separation of
Christians from the world. Only this will bring “true
reformation.” Moody said that a Christian would not want to
participate in many of the activities of the world anyway. To remain
unseparated from the world would be like Northern soldiers in the
Civil War deciding to make their homes in the South. Christians are
like soldiers in an enemy land, traveling as pilgrims and strangers.
Here
we find indications of Moody’s ultimate statement about
disability. The body is only a vehicle in which one passes through
life. We have no business complaining about whatever else does not
satisfy us about earth. We are on a mission in enemy country, with no
time to rest. Our task is to accept the role we have been given and
seek conversions.
Furthermore, insofar as social change is needed, it will come from
individual conversion.
Moody also said that one should accept the place in which God has
placed him. It is the person who knows his place and tells what he
knows that gives eloquent testimony, not the person who has tried to
polish himself.
What is all-important to Moody is the conversion decision (and then
one’s own effort in getting others to make that decision). One
should be focused on that, not on anything having to do with our
perceived earthly needs.
For
all this, it is important to keep in mind that Moody’s repeated
insistence that God’s love is for all means that he would not
deny anyone who will come.
The man born blind in John 9 would not be excluded (at least if he
could get into Moody’s building). The problem parallels that of
Moody and the lower classes: he was certainly interested in having
them come, but did very little to make sure that they could
come or would have a reason to come.
Details
of the years after those great revival tours are beyond the scope of
this paper. But it is worth noting that after these tours, Moody
changed his style greatly. He would stay in a city for some time,
dividing it into small districts and putting more effort into smaller
groups or individual meetings.
He also put much effort into educational institutions, which included
work programs that enabled anyone to attend, if they would work.
The old attitude of self-help remained strong, but Moody seemed to
realize that more than platitudes would be needed. Someone would have
to provide a structure that would make it possible for change to
occur. It seems that when Moody got out of the large-scale meetings,
and worked at a more individual level, he realized (consciously or
not) that many of his ideas were insufficient to the challenges which
he confronted. Examples of this change may be seen in particular in
the death of two of his young grandchildren, which brought a much
more pastoral response than those revival sermons presented.
In
all of this, the spirit of an evangelist shows through. The goal of
decisions for Christ was Moody’s overarching desire.
Unfortunately, from our point of view, this desire allowed Moody to
play off commonly held ideas, but not to speak out against them too
much. His life is an example of American results-oriented pragmatism.
And it is that pragmatism that prevents him from reaching beyond the
spirit of the times. He is a symbol of the age, an age that does not
have much of a positive nature to offer the person inquiring about
the treatment of persons with disabilities. He is complex, and there
will never be space to do more than attempt to deal with a few
threads of his thought, and for that reason he still has, despite
this problem, a great contribution to make.
Bibliography
Augustine
of Hippo. Concerning
the City of God against the Pagans.
Translated by Henry Bettenson. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1972.
Birnbaum,
Raoul. The
Healing Buddha. Boulder:
Shambhala Publications, 1989.
Findlay,
James F., Jr. Dwight
L. Moody: American Evangelist 1837-1899. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1969.
Goodspeed,
E. J. A
Full History of the Wonderful Career of Moody and Sankey in Great
Britain and America.
New York: Henry Goodspeed & Company, 1876.
Gundry,
Stanley N. “Grand Themes of D. L. Moody,” Christianity
Today
19 (December 20, 1974): 4-6.
Miles,
M. “Disability in an Eastern Religious Context: Historical
Perspectives,” Disability
and Society
10 (1995) 49-69.
Moody,
Dwight L. The
Gospel Awakening: comprising the sermons and addresses, prayer
meeting talks and Bible readings of the great revival meetings
conducted by Moody and Sankey.
Chicago: J. Fairbanks, 1878; reprint, ATLA monograph preservation
program, ATLA fiche 1991-2356, 1993.
Moody,
Dwight L. The
Great Redemption: or Gospel light, under the labors of Moody and
Sankey.
Chicago: Century Book and Paper Co., 1889; reprint, ATLA Revivalism
and revival preachers in America fiche F3013, 1978.
Richardson,
Alan, and John Bowden, eds. Westminister
Dictionary of Christian Theology.
Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1983.
Simons,
M. Laird. Evenings
with Moody and Sankey: Comprising Sermons and Addresses at Their
Great Revival Meetings. Philadelphia:
Porter & Coates, 1877.
Soskice,
Janet Martin. Metaphor
and Religious Language. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1985.
Spencer,
Jon Michael. “Hymns of the Social Awakening: Walter
Rauschenbusch and Social Gospel Hymnody,” The
Hymn
40 (April 1989): 18-24.
Stiteler,
Valerie C. Jones. “Singing without a voice: using disability
images in the language of public worship,” Liturgical
Ministry
1: 140-142.
Thomas,
Owen C. Introduction
to Theology.
Wilton: Morehouse Publishing, 1983.
United
Methodist Hymnal: Book of United Methodist Worship, The. Nashville:
The United Methodist Publishing House, 1989.
Walshe,
Maurice (translator). Thus
Have I Heard: A New Translation of the Dīgha Nikāya, The
Long Discourses of the Buddha.
London: Wisdom Publications, 1987.
Appendix
This
paper started with the intention of dealing with both Moody and
Sankey, and considering Sankey’s contribution along these lines
in the field of gospel song. This is an important area, for many of
the images that equate disability and sin come to us today from
hymnody. However, as the study progressed, it became apparent that to
keep the paper to a manageable size, it would be necessary to
concentrate on one or the other. The following bibliographic
information is included to indicate the lines along which a study of
Sankey on his own could (and some day, undoubtedly will) proceed.
Hicks,
Roger W. “The Story of a Hymnbook,” The
Hymn
40 (April 1989): 15-17.
Sankey,
Ira D. My
Life and the Story of the Gospel Hymns.
New York and London: Harper & Brothers, 1906.
Sankey,
Ira D., James McGranahan, George C. Stebbins, and Philip P. Bliss.
Gospel
Hymns Nos. 1 to 6 Complete (Excelsior
Edition). New York and Chicago: Biglow & Main and Cincinnati, New
York and Chicago: John Church Co, 1895. Reprint: Earlier American
Music, Volume 5. New York: DaCapo Press, 1972.
Stevenson,
Robert Murrell. “Ira D. Sankey and ‘Gospel Hymnody’,”
Religion
in Life
20 (1950): 81-88.
Wilhoit,
Melvin Ross. “Sing me a Sankey: Ira D. Sankey and
congregational Song,” The
Hymn
42 (January 1991): 13-19.
28 March 2011