read them all to her," he says, "and every time I work out a beautiful oratorial climax or fine description, she rules it out." The bishop is not famous for thrilling oratory nor superfine phrasing but he is in demand all over the country as one of the most direct and forceful preachers in the American church. Wives then can help, IFTherefore you clergy who are still free to choose, I pray you seek, select and secure one capable of constructive criticism. Unfortunately, there are too few such women not yet in captivity. There seems to be not enough to go around. Or maybe, it is, that these same women are so clever that they are able to land traction magnates or bank presidents instead of preachers.

But let us not lose hope. Even though the benevolent, itinerant critic is improbable of realization and the inspiringly, critical wife seems impossible to secure, there is still one hope left, and this I propose with genuine seriousness. Why not the professional church critic. or homeletic reviewer? When an artist paints a picture, he hangs it in the exhibit. Experts judge, appraise its worth, point out its faults and laud its merits. When an author writes a book, able and honest worthies read it and newspapers give much space for reviews of it. When a prima donna sings she can take up the next morning's papers and read what competent critics think of her work. She knows where she failed, she is privileged to know that she did well, and she enters on the next performance informed and inspired. But when the preacher preaches his preachment some gushing lady may say, "Oh, Dr. Blank, you are so divine, your thoughts are so lofty." Or the senior warden may say, "Have a care, young man, we are good Christian people here, and we don't want sermons that give us a funny feeling inside." But generally speaking the preacher will work for weeks or even months preparing a sermon and when he

has delivered it, he will hear not a word of comment, favorable or unfavorable; for what is said will be said out of his hearing. Nor does he have the satisfaction of seeing its effect revealed on the faces of his hearers for it is not considered good form in the best of churches to register the emotions.

But what is fair for one is fair for another. If the artist can have his judge, the author his reviewer, the actor his critic, why, in Heaven's name, cannot the homeletic artist have his Guiterman, his Winter, his Hale. It would raise the quality of preaching. It would be a tremendous incentive for better sermons and more spirited services if the parson knew that next morning he, and every breakfast table, would be informed of his merits or his demerits. Would it not, if we had, for example, such reviews as these:

Bishop Blank came to the Bow Street Methodist Church last night, making his first appearance there in several years. The Bishop is a man of dignity and fine appearance, and a preacher of the old Evangelical School. He took for the subject of his discourse "The Joy of Religion." With an earnest and energetic fervor he proclaimed his theme. Though it failed to cause our chord of pleasure to vibrate with delight, it was withal pleasing to his type of religionists.

When the announcement of the sermon was made we were inclined to think that the setting for such a talk was not appropriate. Across the rear of the platform was a row of chairs, and these were entirely occupied by women, that is, except one, for the pastor. If the esteemed minister must have a reredos of ladies we did feel that he might have them less stern in feature and severe in dress. But when the sermon was over, we acquiesced in their appropriateness.

This church does one original thing. The chief announcement on the calendar is that The Pastor AND HIS WIFE will meet strangers after the service.

An excellent idea, especially when there is an attractive and gracious wife, -and in their case there seemingly is.

Or this:

Father Black conducted the service in his own church, St. Jude's, last evening. The full vested choir was also present and its members sang that part of the service that the Reverend Father did not. Being unfamiliar with the form we were unable to follow the order of service and indeed had difficulty in following the clergyman himself so rapid and diverse were his movements. He read the service in an undistinguishable monotone. We would, anyway, have been unable to have concentrated on the words expressed, because of our interest in the peculiar, may we say, fireworks. By which we mean the boys who bobbed up and down with lighted candles, at all times endangering the elaborate robes of the good Father; and of the boy who in saucy fashion swung a large censor of fire right into the priest's face. Our interest in these exercises was so absorbing that we could not find the service, though we did try, in the book in the pews. But it was marked the Book of Common Prayer and surely this could

be no common worship. There was a sermon but it seemed to be incidental to the rest of the service, and it was. Or this:

At the afternoon musical service of the Church of St. Mark and The Nativity a mixed choir of well-trained and able singers rendered with delight, as an offertory anthem, the chorus "And the Glory of the Lord," from Handel's Messiah. This was sung with intelligent interpretation. Its enjoyment was enhanced by the keen remarks of the rector, Dr. Wood, preceding the anthem. In an address of fifteen minutes he told of the anthem, its composer, the appropriateness of the words, and from the theme he applied with vigor and clearness a lesson applicable to everyday life. It was not a sermon but his words created and brought into full bloom flowers of deep truths, and the opening chords were like a breeze scattering these seeds of thoughts expressed into the hearts of all present, where as the anthem was sung, they took deep and abiding root. The service was Evening Prayer, according to the rich and historic liturgy of the Episcopal Church. Why not? Why not, indeed?

et les nótres!

[autres !..."

X.

Les Annales.

Some Hallowed Vestments. September 1, 1917. To the Editor of The Chronicle:

was

A young friend has reported to me that when Bishop Charles Fiske, the coadjutor of Central New York, preached at the Cathedral site in Philadelphia on a recent Sunday afternoon, the distinguished prelate 'dolled up' (such was the impious expression) in a purple dress with red edging and buttons of the same hue, and my informant, yankeelike, wanted to know the reason why.

Perhaps I may be allowed to edify the readers of The Chronicle:-as I gladly did my uninstructed friend-by giving a brief explanation of some of the hallowed garments peculiar to the episcopal dignity.

The pur

ple dress inquired about was, of course, the soutane or cassock. The soutane is worn by a bishop for the same reason that it is worn by the inferior clergy-as Bauldry learnedly points out ‘nec in tibiis viri beneplacitum erit ei (Domino)'. The purple color of the episcopal cassock may be accounted for on the general ground that, as the chrysalis when advanced to maturity assumes the irridescence of full butterflyhood, the simple cleric, having been chosen by the more substantial clergy and laity and that choice solemnly accepted by the Almighty in the Sacrament of Consecration, enters into a more gorgeous state and condition, which magnificence is fittingly represented by the more sumptuous raiment. As Gavantus reasons, purple has always been the royal color and it is, therefore, properly worn by those who in Church and State rule by divine right. In the case of the spiritual lord, the richness of his dress enables him the more easily to obtain the presidency ex officio of nearly everything in sight.

The courageous use of this color in the sanctuary, and on cathedral sites (possibly at banquets also) by the bishops of the American Catholic Church is particularly 'expedient at this time' as thereby the 'consent of

the governed' heresy is publicly and effectively rebuked. The red edging and scarlet buttons, according to Vavasseur, are most important because this prettiness symbolizes (1) that the episcopal heart should glow with fervent charity (each little button representing a fiery globule) and (2) the jus liturgicum, i.e. the extraordinary may or may not observe the rubrics (ruber, red) like as he easily buttons and unbuttons his soutane. is only fair to say however, that Baldeschi regards the latter explanation as far-fetched.

It

The biretta is worn because of the peculiar sensitiveness of the clerical head to draughts. The bishop's biretta is of purple to match his cassock. It-as also his silk hat and the petasus (ovum friction)—according to the best authorities, should be lined with green silk. This is a courtesy to the island of the saints as many moderns say; yet the older reason given (vide Bellarmine 'de operculo Episc.') is that the color, being a cool one, serves to keep the prelatical pate in a reverend and placid condition. It is practically refrigerative to use a commonplace simile, it is like a lettuce leaf over a mold of butter. Black cassocks and black birettas (with the usual rubrication) are correctly worn by the well-informed and more thoroughly furnished bishops as a house garb, the color being more in keeping with the domestic side of the episcopal life. With us in the American Catholic Church this 'home use' is more necessary as the constant use of purple coram uxore would tend to unnerve the episcopa

regens.

In a forthcoming book to be entitled 'The Complete Bishop', I hope to treat of the entire episcopal wardrobe and appliances - mitre, ring, staff, sandals, stockings, gloves, etc.; their origin, proper use, and relation to the preaching of the Gospel. I shall probably ask the Juvenile Churchman Company, of Milwaukee to publish it.

Clericus Ignotus.

A Definite Faith,

September 1, 1917.

To the Editor of The Chronicle:

In the movement for Religious Education within the Episcopal Church one of the prominent notes is Definiteness. The outstanding feature stressed is Definiteness in Faith. The strong plea urged is that our training in Belief shall avoid all haziness and vagueness; that it shall be clear-cut and exact. To this end, emphasis is laid upon the Catechism, the Creeds, and the Doctrinal Teachings supposed to be contained in the Prayer Book.

The scriptural support of this ideal, it is asserted, is the Authority with which Jesus taught as contrasted with the interpretations of the scribes.

Few, I believe, would dispute that definiteness in Faith is vitally desirable;—that is, in the kind of Faith that is needed.

Now the kind needed to-day is, I take it, that which our Lord longed to see dominating His disciples; the Faith even as great as a grain of mustard-seed by whose power one could say to a mountain, Be thou removed, and it would obey. That was the kind by virtue of which "all things are possible to him that believeth." (Mk. 9.23) That was the Faith which healed the sick and overcame all the mountainous oppositions of evil. That also was the kind commended of James, the Lord's Brother, who asserted that he would show its reality and its character by his works. (Ja.2.18) It likewise appears to have been the kind referred to by St. Paul in his quotation, "The just shall LIVE by faith." (Ro.1.17).

Now all this so far, no doubt, seems hazy, vague and indefinite to the type of mind which craves for doctrinal definition. The doctrinaire mind will at once interpose the challenge, Faith in just exactly and precisely WHAT?

Our Lord, according to the Synoptical Gospels, has two answers:

(1) "Believe in the Gospel." (Mk.1.15.) (2) "Have faith in God." (Mk.11.22.) These two answers may be accounted as one, for He came "preaching the gospel (good tidings) of GOD." (Mk.1.14.)

Shall we say that Faith in God-the kind to be desired-is the acceptance of doctrinal

definition of God?-for example, the Unity of the Godhead? An answer returned by the Apostle James is certainly rather discouraging: "Thou believest that God is One; thou doest well; the demons also believe and shudder." (Ja.2.19.)

Jesus, according to the Synoptists, formulated n definition either of God or of His own relationship to God.

He spoke of God as His Father and our Father, and showed Himself to be ever conscious of God as a Fatherly or Loving Presence in which all was well.

Where Jesus WAS precise and clear-cut was, not in theological definition, but in moral and spiritual APPLICATION.

THERE He spoke with Authority,-the Authority of One who was conscious of the Presence of God, and aware of exemplifying God's Will.

The scribes, on the other hand, were very martinets of definiteness and precision. In the whole range of conduct and belief they left almost nothing to the individual initiative. Everything was exactly delineated and prescribed. It was just this fussiness of definition, this servility to the precise letter, that produced a class of Religionists which honored God with their lips, while their hearts were far from Him.

Shall this sort of definiteness be held up as the ideal in Christian Faith?

What more can we ever say or think or teach of God than that He is a Loving Presence in which all is well-when by Faith we realize it? And what can be compared in definiteness and precision with the practical demonstrations in the healing of sickness, the overcoming of evil, and all the fruits of the Spirit which a personal realization of the Divine Presence brings?

Compared with this, of what profit is ecclesiastical scribalism?

Use, if you will, Creeds, Catechisms, etc. as a scaffolding in the building of the Religious Educational Structure-in the drawing out of the mind to reflect the ChristMind; do that, if you can make it help ;but when the scaffolding has served its purpose, don't let it hide the Living Structure.

May it not be because the world sees too much scaffolding and too little vital Structure that it fails to believe in the Message of Jesus? Radix.