The demands of spiritualized thought and activity, and the need of breasting the tumult for the sake of the joy that is set before us, have revealed a strength in which former fatigues have been forgotten, and have, furthermore, banished as treasonable the once alluring and self-justifying argument of holiday rest. The expediences of travel for pleasure-seeking or bodily isolation in the past have too often utterly failed to stimulate the monotony or loosen the tension of human thought, as is proved by the fact that they have not always made men kindlier, more tolerant and generous, more grateful for the opportunity of ceaseless service. Of themselves alone, neither the charm of the sonorous sea, the serenity of the lofty mountains, the gentleness of the pastoral hills, nor the busy "cities of the plain" can give to mankind the inspiration now being demonstrated in accordance with Mrs. Eddy's declaration, in "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures" (p. 519), "The highest and sweetest rest, even from a human standpoint, is in holy work." And what, asks humanity, is "holy work"?
The Christian Scientist finds rest and strength in that mental activity or spiritual contemplation which serves most to enlarge his spiritual vision and increase his gratitude; and divine wisdom has ordained that this be gained through the enforced consideration of the direct opposite of personal desires. To him, then, holiday rest means that God's righteous judgments are new every morning. It is the practice and experience of what he spiritually contemplates, and not limited physical recuperation, which give him the unusual but not unnatural strength with which he may work; and he finds that the yoke under which he serves his Master is indeed easy and its burden light.
The great Teacher, who called the weary and heavy-laden to the living fountain of his gospel, had moments of longing for temporary separation from the demands of material thought; for none knew better than he how great were the number and needs of those who selfishly sought him that they might claim personal immunity from trouble, far in excess of their desire to lead corrected lives. The world of Jesus' time, just as of ours, had its dishonest parasitical tendencies; and the Master fully exposed every remote and insidious assertion of predatory human will.
For meditation and inspiration on specific occasions, Jesus sought some mountain solitude or desert place; and in the instances when he chose to be alone, to him as to the less spiritually sustained there came the adversary with ulterior arguments,— such as the transmutation of stone into bread, and the suggestion of the splendid cyclorama from the "pinnacle of the temple." The adversary is ever at the heels of him who knows spiritual good. And moments of doubt concerning real values and real power are moments of mental weakness, if they be not watched and immediately counteracted by spiritual understanding.
There are some Christian Scientists who long for a certain kind of recess from materialism. Through the elimination of some degree of fear, and the putting on of "the garment of praise," they have realized a greater sense of endurance and of better health. To them, mental indolence and bodily ease carried to idleness have become abhorrent; yet they may still be longing for freedom from opposing mentalities, or from the aggression and ridicule to which the practice of their religion is sometimes exposed. They long for association with those whose spiritual thought is kindred with theirs; they long for an outward environment which shall in no way remind them of the distressful and morbid experiences of a hitherto misunderstood past; they wait for the hour when they shall be able to practice Christian Science in some ideal fashion to which they think certain persons have attained! They quote Jesus' transfiguration as evidence of the vision that may come to those whose associates are at spiritual agreement with them, and who permit them to commune with their God.
In the ecclesiastical history of the fourth century there lived a Syrian anchorite named Simeon, who found so much materialism in the monkish order to which he belonged that he passed the last thirty years of his human existence on the top of a pillar of the forum at Antioch. He thought he found there a certain seclusion from the world; but for these thirty years he was none the less dependent upon that same world to hand him up his jug of water and his loaf of bread. His defective sense of vacation from error was not without imitators; and he became famous as Simeon Stylites, founder and chief of the Pillar Saints.
The materialist hopes that a besought change of condition may come to the unchanged human self. So long as mortal mind is being consulted and entreated for divine rights and privileges, the pillar saint will find that even the most cherished human relationships and aspirations will experience periods of strain and pain. Not through the acquiescence of mortal mind, but rather in spite of it, does one transcend his human environment; for environment is largely the result of one's thought of the aggregate influences and forces to which he submits. The transfiguration is a brief incident in the gospel records. The stupendous import of the Master's sojourn on the high place has to do with his spiritual understanding, and not with the locality of the unnamed mountain; a portion of its value to mankind is seen in what immediately thereafter took place in the valley,—the healing of the lunatic boy.
The philanthropic and redemptive work of Jesus was not practiced in exclusive solitude, or theoretically dreamed of in the heights of restful and sheltered seclusion. Never once upon the mountain top did Jesus meet a mendicant, a moral vagabond, or a patient; and these were they who needed a physician, and to whom in the valleys he graciously proffered the undepleted cup of his ministering and healing understanding. Not seclusion, but service, gave him rest; and from him its benediction reached the weary and heavy-laden. Mrs. Eddy writes in "Retrospection and Introspection" (p. 91): "When he was with them, a fishing-boat became a sanctuary, and the solitude was peopled with holy messages from the All-Father. The grove became his class-room, and nature's haunts were the Messiah's university."
Upon his descent from the mountain summit Jesus encountered the physical expression of one of the worst maladies of human belief, one which upon another occasion he told his students required the most rigid treatment of "prayer and fasting," as much in the student terrified by the malady as in the patient. His mountain vision healed the demented boy instantaneously, and left with the great healer no regret that the law of ceaseless activity required him to return to active service and mingle again with those in need. He did not go down into the depths of the nightmare in which the Judean community saw the boy, but he lifted him spiritually up to what had been freshly revealed to himself. High companioned as he had been, he made glad return to waiting fields below, inspired with a yet newer and holier concept of restful service.
Awaiting his refreshed understanding were a multitude of abnormalities; and they were as one in their mimicry of power. There can be but one mimicry of power; and Christ, the high advocate of God, proclaims its just sentence and doom. The mighty statements of Truth need not humanity's heart and ear, but humanity needs Truth's broad sanctuary. The continuous practice of right thinking is service; and service only can bring heaven into the thinker's conscious environment. Spiritual contemplation belongs no more to the mountain top than it does to the mine, the dock, the trench, the trough of the sea, the glacier, or the tropics. Like Moses, Enoch, or Christ Jesus, men may walk alone with their Maker wherever they may be, and reform and renew themselves by knowing that in service to humanity "there remaineth therefore a rest to the people of God."
