Excerpt
Hidden From the Prudent
In the latter part of January, 1915, I visited for the first time the Ute Indian Reservation in the northeastern part of Utah and drove with the missionary to Ouray, where the older Indians were gathered for the monthly issue of rations by the Government. That evening in the log store, with some fifty or sixty Indians gathered around the stove on boxes or seated on the counters under the flickering light of the lanterns hanging from the roof, we spoke of God's love for men.
The next morning we found one of our church families in a log hut, gathered about a letter which they had just received from their boy who was at a Government School in California. When we had read the letter, the father of the family, Albert Cesspouch, a man of about forty-five, blind from trachoma, which affects so many of the Indians, stood up and drawing his blanket around him held up his hand to signify that he was going to speak.
With the natural dignity of the Indian, he commenced to talk in the Ute tongue, his daughter Rosita interpreting for him. First he thanked us for the words we had spoken the night before and then went on to speak of something which had been on his mind since the previous summer. It seems that there had been a flag-raising at the agency headquarters, and moving pictures had been taken of the Indians as they reverenced the flag. He had been thinking about it during those months. "It means," he said, "that they want to take our young men away to fight. It is not right. The young men should not fight." Then putting his hand in his pocket he drew out a little silver cross that had been given him some years before when he had been confirmed, and holding it up as if his sightless eyes could see it he said, "That's good. That means that men should not fight, but live as brothers."
We explained to him that he had misunderstood the significance of the flag-raising, but who shall say that that Indian, uncultured, poverty stricken, diseased and ignorant by all our civilized standards, had not come nearer to an understanding of the heart of the Christian gospel than the majority of his sophisticated white brothers?
Perhaps, after all, Christ's message is a simpler thing than we have supposed. One can go into a theological library today and find stacks and stacks of volumes on religion, ethics, theology, casuistry, exegesis, philosophy, the Bible, ecclesiastical history, mysticism, apologetics, metaphysics and a dozen other subjects, all designed to illuminate, define and expound the realities that Jesus taught; but somehow they seem worthless when we note the clear grasp of the inner truth that the simple Indian had achieved without their help. We have tended to conceive of truth as something to be studied and apprehended intellectually rather than something to be lived. We need the reminder of that old prayer which begins, "Almighty God, who showest to them that are in error the light of thy truth to the intent that they may return into the way of righteousness." Truth for the sake of right living, not truth for the truth's sake or truth for God's sake, is the divine valuation. The wisdom and patient study of the ages have gone into the search for the knowledge of God and His will, but to what purpose is it, when today as ever the mysteries of the kingdom are revealed to the hearts of the child-like?
Do not misunderstand me. Ignorance is no more a virtue than is wisdom. We must not forget the speaker at a church conference who began a tirade against the universities and education, expressing thankfulness that he had never been corrupted by contact with a college. After he had proceeded a few minutes, the chairman interrupted with the question:
"Do I understand that the speaker is thankful for his ignorance?"
"Well, yes," was the answer, "you may put it that way."
"Well, all I have to say," said the chairman, in gentle tones—"all I have to say is that he has much to be thankful for." Both ignorance and wisdom may be bars to the understanding of God's will....