“The article ‘The’ must not be used
before the titles of branch Churches—
“Nor written on applications for membership
in naming such churches.”
Those are the terms. There can and will be a
million First Churches of Christ, Scientist, scattered
over the world, in a million towns and villages and
hamlets and cities, and each may call itself (suppressing
the article), “First Church of Christ.
Scientist”—it is permissible, and
no harm; but there is only one The Church of Christ,
Scientist, and there will never be another.
And whether that great word fall in the middle of
a sentence or at the beginning of it, it must always
have its capital T.
I do not suppose that a juvenile passion for fussy
little worldly shows and vanities can furnish a match
to this, anywhere in the history of the nursery.
Mrs. Eddy does seem to be a shade fonder of little
special distinctions and pomps than is usual with
human beings.
She instituted that immodest “The” with
her own hand; she did not wait for somebody else to
think of it.
There is but one human Pastor in the whole Christian
Science world; she reserves that exalted place to
herself.
There is but one other object in the whole Christian
Science world honored with that title and holding
that office: it is her book, the Annex—permanent
Pastor of The First Church, and of all branch Churches.
With her own hand she draughted the By-laws which
make her the only really absolute sovereign that lives
to-day in Christendom.
She does not allow any objectionable pictures to be
exhibited in the room where her book is sold, nor
any indulgence in idle gossip there; and from the
general look of that By-law I judge that a lightsome
and improper person can be as uncomfortable in that
place as he could be in heaven.
In a room in The First Church of Christ, Scientist,
there is a museum of objects which have attained to
holiness through contact with Mrs. Eddy —among
them an electrically lighted oil-picture of a chair
which she used to sit in—and disciples
from all about the world go softly in there, in restricted
groups, under proper guard, and reverently gaze upon
those relics. It is worship. Mrs. Eddy
could stop it if she was not fond of it, for her sovereignty
over that temple is supreme.
The fitting-up of that place as a shrine is not an
accident, nor a casual, unweighed idea; it is imitated
from age—old religious custom. In
Treves the pilgrim reverently gazes upon the Seamless
Robe, and humbly worships; and does the same in that
other continental church where they keep a duplicate;
and does likewise in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,
in Jerusalem, where memorials of the Crucifixion are
preserved; and now, by good fortune we have our Holy
Chair and things, and a market for our adorations
nearer home.
