Many of basic beliefs of traditional Christianity, far from being helpful in the modern world, have actually become liabilities. They are no longer avenues to faith but, for many people, they have become roadblocks barring the way to faith. We must distinguish clearly between beliefs and faith. There is an unfortunate impression abroad that faith, particularly Christian faith, consists of giving assent to a collection of beliefs, such as those referred. This is not so. No person has brought out the distinction between beliefs and faith more clearly than theologian and historian Wilfred Cantwell Smith. i

Cantwell Smith claims that the idea that believing is religiously important has arisen only in recent times and refers to it as the great modern heresy of the church. This means that, to the degree that Christianity has come to be seen as a body of beliefs and doctrines, it is no longer the Christian Way of faith. It has been turned into an ideology, in much the same way as Marxism may be termed an ideology. Cantwell Smith goes on further to say ‘No serious theological thinker has ever held and the Bible nowhere suggests that it is important to hold the opinion that God exists, whether that opinion be right or wrong’ii. Faith is not to be confused with opinions. Beliefs are strongly held opinions. The Concise Oxford Dictionary defines ‘opinion’ as ‘a judgement or belief based on grounds short of proof, a provisional conviction, a view held as probable’. Now we all have beliefs or opinions and some of them we hold with great conviction. They may even be the form in which we choose to expression our faith verbally but they must never be identified with faith.

One reason for this is that there is nothing very permanent about beliefs. As we mature through life our beliefs change. We do not today hold the beliefs we held as children. Even in the last ten years probably some of our beliefs have changed. That is as it should be. Beliefs are continually changing. What happens with human individuals in our comparatively short lifetime occurs even more so in the course of a culture evolving over centuries.

There is no virtue at all in simply requiring Christians of today to affirm the beliefs of Christians of former centuries. Yet that is what we do, if we insist that today's Christians must be able to affirm the historic Creeds and Confessions, Those express the sincerely held opinions of Christians of former ages. To repeat them, as if they were our own, is to turn ourselves into a ventriloquist's dummy. As Cantwell Smith further said, one's beliefs belong to the century one lives in; what is really important in religion is faith.iii

We must be free to express our own beliefs. And our beliefs will most likely relate to the cultural circumstances of our time. Some particular beliefs long regarded as basic to Christianity have in today’s world become roadblocks to faith. Instead of leading people to an experience of freedom they actually threaten to make them feel imprisoned. Those who make the decision to abandon one or more of them quite suddenly often say they experience a sense of great liberation, as if a burden had suddenly fallen from their shoulders.

The path of faith we keep referring to as the Christian Way, and which is more than three thousand years old, is one which has, at its most decisive moments of growth, led people to experience freedom. For the ancient Hebrews in Egypt, the path meant freedom from slavery. For Paul and the Gentile Church it meant freedom from the Jewish legal system. For Luther and the Protestant movement it meant freedom from papal authority. On this side of the Enlightenment it has meant freedom from mental incarceration by an outmoded belief system. It was entirely appropriate that the leading thinkers of the Enlightenment were called free-thinkers.

So what is faith? Faith is an attitude and an activity of trust. Faith involves the whole person, the heart and the will as well as the mind. Faith does have a cognitive component and that is how it becomes entangled with beliefs. But beliefs are always secondary to faith; they follow from faith just as much as they precede it.

This is how Cantwell Smith defines faith - ‘Faith is a quality of human living, which at its best has taken the form of serenity, courage and service; a quiet confidence and joy that enables one to feel at home in the universe, and to find meaning in the world and in one's life, a meaning that is profound and ultimate’iv. Faith is basic to religion and yet it is far from being an exclusively religious word in the narrow sense of that term. Faith is universal to the human condition. Everywhere and at all times people have lived by faith, both individually as persons and corporately as cultures.

We humans are all born with the capacity for faith. It's a gift which seems to come with our genes. We instinctively trust our mother at birth and, provided the family environment is as caring as it ought to be, that initial trust becomes nurtured into a more conscious and cognitive form of trust. On the other hand, unfortunate circumstances and experiences in early years can also crush or damage our natural capacity for faith.

We should not be surprised to find that faith is such a universal and everyday reality. Neither Christianity nor any other religious tradition has any monopoly over faith. Even such a simple thing as learning to swim becomes a very clear demonstration of what it means to have faith. The decision to take one's feet off the bottom, while still doubting if the water will really buoy one up, is a great act of faith. All the technical information which a swimming instructor could supply achieves nothing until the beginner makes the initial act of trust. Throughout life, and at every significant stage of further development, faith is being continually tested and stimulated to further growth.

Faith is basic to health, both physical and mental. Lack of faith can cause one's health to deteriorate and a new burst of faith can restore health. Jesus of Nazareth was drawing attention to a perfectly natural phenomenon when he said to a Jewish woman healed of a haemorrhage, ‘Your faith has made you well’. When health or wholeness does result from faith it does not need to be interpreted as a supernatural miracle or be associated with religious hocus-pocus.

It is when the human capacity for faith is directed towards the great existential questions of life that its religious importance becomes so evident. All religion arises out of the response of faith to the demands which human existence thrusts upon us. That is why the great religious traditions are today often referred to as ‘Paths of Faith’.

Each person's faith is a unique experience. Because we are all different we walk different paths of faith. But because we are also social creatures, who depend upon one another for our humanity and culture, our paths intertwine and form an ongoing evolving culture. Each culture with its accompanying religious dimension develops its own general identity, just as each of us develops a personal identity.

In these studies we are looking specifically at the Christian path of faith. In this last one we are exploring where this path may lead us in the modern world. The very first thing it is leading us to is the rediscovery of the meaning and of full significance of faith. One of the first persons to refocus Christian attention on the true nature of faith was the Danish philosopher and theologian Soren Kierkegaard (1813-55). He likened faith to the activity of treading water which is twenty thousand fathoms deep. He saw that faith is inconsistent with the practice of relying on firm supports, guarantees, and assured knowledge. ‘Without risk there is no faith, and the greater the risk, the greater the faith’.

In every path of faith there has been a tendency for faith to be replaced by various tangible crutches, such as fixed and absolute truths, which purport to provide certainty. ‘If I am capable of conceiving God in some objective way, I do not have faith’, Kierkegaard said, ‘It is precisely because I cannot conceive God objectively that I must have faith’. By the end of his life he had become a particularly harsh critic of the church of his day because, as he saw it, the Christianity preached by the church had become the very opposite of the Way of faith. The Church was proclaiming Christianity as a divinely revealed body of knowledge. It was prescribing an ecclesiastical ritual which would guarantee entry into heaven. He predicted a cultural revolution in Christendom in which people would fall away from Christianity by the millions. It has in fact been happening, though probably not for not quite the same reasons that he would have given.

Kierkegaard, the father of modern existentialism, was a strange man and must be understood in the cultural context of his time. Yet he was affirming what we have been calling the Christian Way and sharply distinguishing it from the Christianity it had become. He was declaring that it was time to throw away the ecclesiastical crutches and rediscover the significance of faith.

Iconoclast though he was, Kierkegaard never for one moment saw himself abandoning the Christian path of faith. He was rather clearing away the thick undergrowth which had grown up and which was concealing the path. The church had been proclaiming that to have faith one must believe the Christian dogmas; whereas the truth was the other way round - to be Christian one must have faith. So if we ask whether this more radical path into the future remains a genuine continuation of the past and not just the abandonment of it, we need only look back to the biblical tradition itself to realise that faith along with the iconoclastic destruction of idols have characterized it at all its crucial points.

Nowhere is this more clearly seen than in the references found in both the Old Testament and the New Testament to the man whom Jew, Christian and Muslim all look back to as the beginning of their own path of faith. All three look back to Abraham as their model of what it means to have faith. Yet this is in spite of the fact that Abraham knew nothing of the Mosaic Law. He knew nothing of Jesus Christ. He knew nothing of the Qur'an. It was not his beliefs but his faith that mattered.

The New Testament expressed it in these words, which could perhaps be even accepted today by Jew and Muslim, ‘By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out, and he went out, not knowing where he was to go’. ‘Not knowing where he was to go’ is a dramatic way of pointing to the nature of faith. Abraham had no map of the way ahead. He did not even know what destination he was making for. He was simply responding to the voice within him which urged him to make the venture of faith.

Why was he leaving? The biblical story does not say and in any case it was written long after the time of Abraham. It is not so much a history of Abraham as a parable about the nature of faith. But in view of the iconoclastic destruction of idols which came to figure so prominently in the Commandments, and which kept being reaffirmed by the Israelite prophets, it is interesting to observe what the later Jewish legend gave as Abraham's reason for departing from Ur: it was the need to distance himself from the idolatry of the ancient city of Ur.

In a strange way the rejection of the Bible as a sacred object and an infallible source of truth is closer to the spirit of the Bible than any veneration of it. Those who make the Bible their God are paradoxically in direct conflict with the main thrust of the Bible. No sin is regarded so heinous in the Bible as idolatry, yet those who insist that certain beliefs must at all costs be honoured and embraced are idolizing an ideology.

It was by leaving the familiar and traditional things behind and venturing out in faith that Abraham marked the beginning of the Judeo-Christian-Islamic paths of faith. It was by moving out in faith from the rigid structures of Jewish legalism that Paul, following the spirit of Jesus of Nazareth, initiated the Christian version of that path of faith. It was by faith that Muhammad, influenced by both the Jewish and Christian paths, led the Arab people away from their idolatrous practices into the Islamic path of faith. It was by abandoning the formal structures and dogmas of the medieval church that Luther opened the path to new freedom.

What happened at the Protestant Reformation has some surprising lessons to teach us, which are very relevant to today. They are lessons which have hardly been noted before and perhaps it is only in the light of subsequent events we are able to discern them. The Reformation did not so much reform the church as fragment it. For the next four hundred years Protestants and Catholics were engaged in bitter hostility, each claiming to be the only genuine manifestation of the Christian path of faith. So much was their attention focused on one another that they hardly noticed that the next burst of spiritual freedom was appearing from the very cracks opening up in fragmented Christendom. The 18th century Enlightenment marks the threshold of change in this process. The modern secular world, which looks to the scientific enterprise rather than to divinely revealed knowledge dates from this time.

What is too little appreciated is the fact that not only did modern secularization (i.e. the acknowledgement of the this-worldliness of reality) come out of the Christian West but in many ways it is the logical development of the Judeo-Christian path of faith. A number of theologians, such as Friedrich Gogarten, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Harvey Cox, have been drawing attention to this for some time but the church at its official level has steadily regarded secularity and secular humanism as an enemy to be held at bay; this is comparable to the way the ancient Jews rejected Christianity and the Catholic Church rejected Protestantism.

The next lesson to be learned from the Protestant Reformation is that it spelled the decline of the church as an institution of power and authority. The authority of the church, which was of course a moral authority rather than a magisterial one, rested on its claim to be the divinely appointed guardian of truth and morals. It acted like an earthly embassy of the heavenly court, through which God from his heavenly throne, revealed his will for human affairs. This is still clearly reflected in the way Pope John Paul II expects all Catholics to respond obediently and without dissent to his Encyclicals on morality. The slow erosion of that dualistic (heaven and earth) view of reality, coupled with the spread of human autonomy, has destroyed the very foundations by which the church assumed that authority. We should therefore not be surprised by the declining authority enjoyed by the church. It will not return. This is why the institutional church has already become sidelined from current affairs of central interest.

This does not mean that all aspects of church life will disappear. In any case the sheer momentum from the past is sufficient to carry the churches forward for quite some time into the future. It is within that time that the churches have to find their new role and mode of operation within the kind of the world we live in today. Robert Bellah, a sociologist with considerable theological expertise, wrote nearly 30 years ago in a book entitled Beyond Belief, ‘Each individual must be free to work our his/her own ultimate solutions. The most the church can do is to provide a favourable environment for doing so without imposing on him/her a prefabricated set of answers.’v

The role of the church is no longer to supply the answers to the questions of the meaning of life. It is rather to assist people to walk the path of faith and to find their own answers. This means the future role of the church is to be what may be called the Open Church. An Open Church welcomes all people, irrespective of race, ideology or creed. It is based on our common humanity and exists to provide for people mutual support, encouragement and spiritual nurture.

An Open Church does not exist to compete with other paths of faith, to proselytize and make all people Christian. We do well to remember the harsh criticism Jesus is said to have delivered to the proselytizers of his day - ‘You traverse sea and land to make a single proselyte, and then make him twice as much a child of hell as yourselves’. An Open Church is Christian only to the extent that it has not deliberately cut itself off from the Christian heritage of the past, but continues to draw upon it for inspiration and guidance. But the Open Church is also free to draw from other religious traditions including humanism.

And what of the priesthood or ordained ministry in the Open Church? It is noticeable that the role of the Christian ministry has already begun to show significant change. Many clergy now see their role as non-directive counsellors rather than as authoritative prescribers of the path we are to walk in. In the Open Church there will still be a valuable role to be played by people who have special gifts and training as teachers, advisers, facilitators and resource persons. But the Open Church will not be ruled or dominated by a priesthood, as in the past. In so far as some kind of orderly organization is necessary it will operate democratically. Ever since the Protestant Reformation church life has been moving steadily towards the democratic model. The time is now past for authority to be exerted from above, as in Roman Catholic, Episcopal and even Presbyterian Churches.

It is strangely paradoxical that this model of the Open Church as a fluid organization with flexible membership, democratically organized, is remarkably close to the model of the Jewish synagogue from which primitive Christianity derived its first form of organization. The synagogue, quite unlike all other religious institutions of the ancient world, was a laypersons' institute. It was non-priestly and non-ritualistic. It was simply, as its Greek name tells us, a coming together for fellowship, mutual support, the reading of the Bible and spiritual exercises. Even though the Jewish synagogue did become more formalized through the centuries it has remained much closer to its original form even to this day. The Christian Church, by contrast, adopted patterns of power structures, first from the Roman Empire and subsequently from medieval feudalism. It is these which have become outmoded.

But what of the lay people who constitute the church? In our own personal search for meaning and spiritual fulfilment most of us are only too aware that we can do with all the mutual support and stimulation to further growth that we can receive from, and also give to, one another. We humans are social creatures. We face a road into the future which is now wider and more open than ever before. The future is unknown and is already darkened by ominous, threatening clouds.

This has been strikingly put by a Jewish rabbi who represents in the Jewish path of faith the radical counterpart to what has been here described as the Open Church in the Christian path. Rabbi Richard Rubenstein, along with other radical Jews, has abandoned the concept of an objective deity as a result of Jewish experience at Auschwitz. But he has not abandoned the Jewish path of faith saying, ‘Judaism is the way we Jews share our lives in an unfeeling and silent cosmos. It is the flickering candle we have lit to enlighten and warm us’vi.

In similar vein Matthew Arnold, as he pondered on the ebbing tide of traditional Christianity, began the last verse of his poem ‘Dover Beach’ with the words:

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

The truth of those words is more evident in today's society than it was in that of Matthew Arnold. Human society, both at the national level and at the global level, has been in the process of breaking out of all the cultural and religious restraints which have promoted social bonds in the past. The world at large is moving to a form of human freedom never before experienced on this globe. Yet this freedom has brought in its train wars of unprecedented magnitude and cruelty. It has brought oppression and starvation for masses of people. On the national level the new freedom has opened the way for the rapid increase of crime and anti-social behaviour which we are now witnessing with alarm.

How do we go about being true to one another in the absence of certitude and facing a threatening future? It is the mission of the Open Church to provide a model for human community, one which accepts individual diversity and yet promotes the growth of personal trust and mutual respect. However much we value our individuality, our personal identity, our autonomous mode of life (and all this has become greatly accentuated in modern times) we must never lose sight of the fact that it has all been made possible by countless generations of community life; and community is based on bonds of mutual trust and goodwill. Community is the basis of the level of humanity we now experience and the key to further human development. This is why the Christian Way of the past placed so much emphasis on belonging to the ‘people of God’, and spoke of the church as the ‘body of Christ’. Community was understood in terms of a living organism, whose individual organs retained their identity and function, yet worked harmoniously for the functioning of the whole.

Community is fostered and nurtured by focusing attention on the three supreme spiritual virtues - faith, hope and love. These may be called spiritual virtues for they are of a higher order than the ethical values such as honesty, justice, integrity, which are also extremely important for a healthy human community. We have already discussed the vital importance of faith. Closely associated with faith is hope. It is by the hope of goals yet to be reached that faith is sustained and stimulated in growth in facing the future. Both for the individual and for the society, hope must be able to find expression in some tangible form.

Love may be legitimately regarded as the greatest of the three spiritual virtues, as St. Paul declared, simply because it forms the cohesive power which draws us together. Love is to community what nuclear power is to the atom, and why the breakdown of love can be so explosive. Where the binding power of love is absent there can be no community, no family life, no church. Love, along with its associated virtues, such as compassion and self-sacrifice, constitutes the supreme value which humans have come to recognize and experience and is the reason why it has been said that ‘God is love’. The history of the life of the church in the past has been far from perfect in manifesting love and yet, it has never ceased to affirm its importance. The role of the Open Church is both to nurture the bonds of love in society and to strive to provide a model of what a loving community can be.

The spiritual virtues provide the ingredients with which the Open Church can become a path-finder to society at a time when the road ahead is wider and more open than ever before. It can make no claim to be the only path-finder. But the reason why the church can be an effective path-finder is that, by deliberately seeking to preserve some continuity with the path which has led us to this point, it can provide some valuable markers as to how we got here and what has made us what we are. At the very least these can prevent society at large from going round in circles and becoming completely lost. To paraphrase a well-known saying, those who forget the lessons of their culture are doomed to repeat its mistakes.

One can learn from the past without being bound by the past. The path of faith from Jesus of Nazareth onwards preserved continuity with the past by retaining the Jewish Scriptures, referring to it as the Old Testament; so in our day the whole Bible and the subsequent Christian doctrines have become, as it were, our Old Testament.

As the first people to call themselves Christian were free to interpret the ancient Jewish Scriptures in the light of their new experience, so we are free to interpret the Christian heritage in the light of the vast body of new knowledge with which we have become surrounded in modern world. This Christian heritage permeates the whole of Western culture. It is just as damaging to us culturally to cut ourselves off from it completely as it is to make an idol of it.

In this respect we should view with some alarm the fact that in such a short time a whole generation has grown up who are now biblically illiterate. Since the biblical material conveyed in story form the traditional value system of our culture there is probably a correlation between that fact and the increasing amount of anti-social behaviour. It is to be hoped that the time will soon come for the Bible to find its own natural level, by which means it can be more widely read as a set of human documents of quite remarkable value, pointing to the historical origins and general character of western culture.

Central to the New Testament heritage is the person of Jesus, who became acclaimed as the Christ. Though the historical figure of Jesus is no longer easy to recover from behind the supernatural and divine cloak with which he became clothed by the church, it is clear that here was a remarkable man who can still be genuinely honoured as original and creative. He provides a model of a genuine path-finder, and that is why his later followers put into his mouth the words, ‘I am the Way’. But he lived in very different times and circumstances. His way need not and cannot be our way. It is his role as path-finder that we can find encouraging. As such, he is one who, at that human level, can be honoured by all, whether they be Jew, Christian or humanist.

The path-finding role of the church will be advanced not by any claim to authority, as in the past, but simply by the intrinsic value of what it is seeking to do. This method will be quiet and unobtrusive, rather like that of which Jesus spoke when he likened the coming of the Kingdom of God to leaven, silently and invisibly permeating the lump of dough.

The role of the Open Church, therefore, is to be the leaven in society, raising the consciousness of society to the values and goals on which its viable future depends. Such a task will become increasingly urgent in the generations to come, for already we see the storm-clouds gathering. Indeed there is a certain parallel between conditions on the global scale today and those present in ancient Palestine at the time when the path of faith took its Christian shape. The first Christians saw themselves living at the end of the Age. They believed that the world as it had been known was coming imminently to an end and hopefully would be replaced by a new world, which they referred to as the New Heaven and the New Earth.

As we face a new millennium, there lie before us exciting new possibilities on the one hand, and on the other the threat of global disasters on an unprecedented scale. These first appeared as the threat of a global nuclear war. That fear has lessened in intensity and has been superseded by another which may be even more serious because it is less dramatic. Human activity on the earth is now seriously disturbing the delicate ecological balance upon which all planetary life depends. The various environmental dangers have already given rise to a variety of one-issue organisations.

An important social role for the Open Church is not only to encourage them all but also to provide a politically neutral umbrella which will help to co-ordinate them and enable them to work together for the common good. The word ‘salvation’, so central to the original Christian Gospel, has taken on a new lease of life in the current context. ‘Save the planet’, ‘Save the whales’, ‘Save the black robins’, might have appeared at first to have nothing to do with the traditional concern for salvation. Yet they turn out to be particular instances of the more general and far-reaching concern for the salvation of the biosphere. The responsible care of the biosphere, which is the matrix of all life including our own, has become the supreme religious duty of our time. As someone has said, ‘We have to learn to care for the earth as diligently as people once served their gods’.

It is in this respect that some of the most distinctive values of the Christian tradition come fully into play. The chief reason for caring for the planet is not primarily for ourselves, for many of us will not live long enough to see and feel the full impact of the destructive consequences of what humans are doing to the planet. The urgent work of saving the life of the planet is not so much for our personal benefit as for that of the generations to come.

It is just here that something central to the Christian Way becomes strikingly relevant. The central Christian symbol has always been the cross. Whatever else the way of the cross may have come to mean, it was strongly symbolic of the call to sacrifice one's own life and interests for the greater benefit of others. In today's world that means the readiness not only for us to accept human mortality but to live and die in such a way as to bring greatest benefit to all other living creatures.

Already a great conflict is growing between those who want to exploit the earth for short-terms gains and those who want to conserve the natural resources of the earth and develop policies which will be sustainable. We are becoming increasingly aware that political and economic power largely rests at the moment with those who are only too ready to opt for short-term gains rather than for the long-term goals of sustainability. The care of Mother Earth, with all which that involves, is to a large extent replacing the former sense of obedience to the Heavenly Father. The path of faith into the future must be one of caring for the earth and it will involve the kind of sacrifice of personal gains long symbolised in the Christian cross. It was the primitive Christian belief that the death of Jesus on the cross was not the utter disaster that it first appeared to be that gave rise to the affirmation that he had risen from the dead. It is the hope that every personal sacrifice we make today will bear fruit for the generations yet to come, which is the continuing significance of the symbolic Christian language of resurrection.

W. Cantwell Smith, in a book entitled Towards a World Theology, explored the way in which people of all cultures, all paths of faith, could work towards this common global objective. Each must start from the background of the cultural path which has shaped them to this point. In this context he wrote, ‘My aspiration is to participate Christianly (i.e. in a Christian Way) in the total life of humankind - the intellectual life, and the religious, as well as the economic and the political. And I invite others to do so Jewishly, Islamically, Buddhistically, or whatever - including humanistically. It will not be easy to build on earth a world community. It will not be possible, unless each of us brings to it the resources of his or her mind and his or her faith’vii. To that we may all say Amen.

Rev Professor Lloyd Geering (1993)

1 T. S. Eliot, Collected Poems 1909-1935, Faber & Faber Ltd., 1935, pp.173-4
2 Kirsopp Lake, The Religion of Yesterday and Tomorrow, Christophers, 1925
3 Robert Ellwood, The History and Future of Faith, Crossroad, 1988
4 K.S.Latourette, A History of Christianity, Eyre and Spottiswoode Ltd., 1964, p.xxi
5 ibid., p.5
6 ibid., p.5
7 John Dickie, The Organism of Christian Truth, James Clarke & C, London, 1931, p.30
8 Anne Freemantle, The Papal Encyclicals, Mentor-Omega Books, 1963, p.130
9 ibid., pp. 145, 152
10 ibid., p.137
11 ibid., p.134
12 ibid., p.207
13 The Absoluteness of Christianity and the History of Religions, SCM, 1972, p.78
14 Ernst Troeltsch, Christian Thought, Its History and Application, University if London, 1923, p.
31
15 Tom F. Driver, Christ in a Changing World, SCM Press, 1981, p.65
16 ibid., p. 56
17 Karen Armstrong, A History of God, Heinemann, London, 1993
18 Don Cupitt. Taking Leave of God, SCM Press, 1980, p.166
19 See Gordon Kaufman, In Face of Mystery, Harvard University Press, 1993
20 See especially Faith and Belief, Princeton University Press, 1979.
21 Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Belief and History, University Press of Virginia, 1977, p. 78.
22 ibid., p.96.
23 ibid.,p. 93.
24 Robert Bellah, Beyond Belief, Harper and Row, 1970, pp. 43-4.
25 Richard L. Rubenstein, After Auschwitz, The Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1966, p. 225.
26 Wilfred CantwellSmith, Towards a World Theology, The Macmillan Press Ltd., 1981, p. 129.