The Profits of Religion, Fifth Edition, Upton Sinclair [spiritual books to read .txt] 📗

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CONTENTS NEW YORK
VANGUARD PRESS

VANGUARD PRINTINGS
First—January, 1927
Second—April, 1927
Third—June, 1928

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

OFFERTORY

This book is a study of Supernaturalism from a new point of view—as a Source of Income and a Shield to Privilege. I have searched the libraries through, and no one has done it before. If you read it, you will see that it needed to be done. It has meant twenty-five years of thought and a year of investigation. It contains the facts.

I publish the book myself, so that it may be available at the lowest possible price. I am giving my time and energy, in return for one thing which you may give me—the joy of speaking a true word and getting it heard.

Note to fifth edition, 1926: "The Profits of Religion" was first published early in 1917. The present edition represents a sale of over 60,000 copies, without counting a dozen translations. In this edition a few errors have been corrected, but otherwise the book has not been changed. The reader will understand that references to the World War are of the date 1917, prior to America's entrance.

This book is the first of a series of volumes, an economic interpretation of culture, which now includes "The Brass Check," "The Goose-step," "The Goslings," and "Mammonart."

CONTENTS

Introductory Bootstrap-lifting Religion

Book One: The Church of the Conquerors The Priestly Lie The Great Fear Salve Regina! Fresh Meat Priestly Empires Prayer-wheels The Butcher-Gods The Holy Inquisition Hell-fire

Book Two: The Church of Good Society The Rain Makers The Babylonian Fire-God The Medicine-men The Canonization of Incompetence Gibson's Preservative The Elders Church History Land and Livings Graft in Tail Bishops and Beer Anglicanism and Alcohol Dead Cats "Suffer Little Children" The Court-circular Horn-blowing Trinity Corporation Spiritual Interpretation

Book Three: The Church of the Servant Girls Charity God's Armor Thanksgivings The Holy Roman Empire Temporal Power Knights of Slavery Priests and Police The Church Militant The Church Triumphant God in the Schools The Menace King Coal The Unholy Alliance Secret Service Tax Exemption Holy History Das Centrum

Book Four: The Church of the Slavers The Face of Caesar Deutsehland ueber Alles Der Tag King Cotton Witches and Women Moth and Rust To Lyman Abbott The Octopus The Industrial Shelley The Outlook for Graft Clerical Camouflage The Jungle

Book Five: The Church of the Merchants The Head Merchant "Herr Beeble" Holy Oil Rhetorical Black-hanging The Great American Fraud Riches in Glory Captivating Ideals Spook Hunting Running the Rapids Birth Control Sheep

Book Six: The Church of the Quacks Tabula Rasa The Book of Mormon Holy Rolling Bible Prophecy Koreshanity Mazdaznan Black Magic Mental Malpractice Science and Wealth New Nonsense "Dollars Want Me!" Spiritual Financiering The Graft of Grace

Book Seven: The Church of the Social Revolution Christ and Caesar Locusts and Wild Honey Mother Earth The Soap Box The Church Machine The Church Redeemed The Desire of Nations The Knowable "Nature's Insurgent Son" The New Morality Envoi INDEX

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CONTENTS

INTRODUCTORY

Bootstrap-lifting

Bootstrap-lifting? says the reader.

It is a vision I have seen: upon a vast plain, men and women are gathered in dense throngs, crouched in uncomfortable and distressing positions, their fingers hooked in the straps of their boots. They are engaged in lifting themselves; tugging and straining until they grow red in the face, exhausted. The perspiration streams from their foreheads, they show every symptom of distress; the eyes of all are fixed, not upon each other, nor upon their boot-straps, but upon the sky above. There is a look of rapture upon their faces, and now and then, amid grunts and groans, they cry out with excitement and triumph.

I approach one and say to him, "Friend, what is this you are doing?"

He answers, without pausing to glance at me, "I am performing spiritual exercises. See how I rise?"

"But," I say, "you are not rising at all!"

Whereat he becomes instantly angry. "You are one of the scoffers!"

"But, friend," I protest, "don't you feel the earth under your feet?"

"You are a materialist!"

"But, friend, I can see—"

"You are without spiritual vision!"

[12] And so I move on among the sweating and groaning hordes. Being of a sympathetic turn of mind, I cannot help being distressed by the prevalence of this singular practice among so large a portion of the human race. How is it possible that none of them should suspect the futility of their procedure? Or can it really be that I am uncomprehending? That in some way they are actually getting off the ground, or about to get off the ground?

Then I observe a new phenomenon: a man gliding here and there among the bootstrap-lifters, approaching from the rear and slipping his hands into their pockets. The position of the spiritual exercisers greatly facilitates his work; their eyes being cast up to heaven, they do not see him, their thoughts being occupied, they do not heed him; he goes through their pockets at leisure, and transfers the contents to a bag he carries, and then moves on to the next victim. I watch him for a while, and finally approach and ask, "What are you doing, sir?"

He answers, "I am picking pockets."

"Oh," I say, puzzled by his matter-of-course tone. "But—I beg pardon—are you a thief?"

"Oh, no," he answers, smilingly, "I am the agent of the Wholesale Pickpockets' Association. This is Prosperity."

"I see," I reply. "And these people let you—"

"It is the law," he says. "It is also the gospel."

I turn, following his glance, and observe another person approaching—a stately figure, clad in scarlet and purple robes, moving with slow dignity. Ha gazes about at the sweating and grunting hordes; now and then he stops and lifts his hands in a gesture of [13] benediction, and proclaims in rolling tones, "Blessed are the Bootstrap-lifters, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven." He moves on, and after a bit stops and announces again, "Man doth not live by bread alone, but by every word that cometh out of the mouth of the prophets and priests of Bootstrap-lifting."

Watching a while longer, I see this majestic one approach the agent of the Wholesale Pickpockets' Association. The agent greets him as a friend, and proceeds to transfer to the pockets of his capacious robes a generous share of the loot which he has collected. The majestic one does not cringe, nor does he make any effort to hide what is going on. On the contrary he cries aloud, "It is more blessed to give than to receive!" And again he cries, "The laborer is worthy of his hire!" And a third time he cries, yet more sternly, "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's!" And the Bootstrap-lifters pause long enough to answer: "Lord have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law!" Then they renew their straining and tugging.

I step up, and in timid tones begin, "Reverend sir, will you tell me by what right you take this wealth?"

Instantly a frown comes upon his face, and he cries in a voice of thunder, "Blasphemer!" And all the Bootstrap-lifters desist from their lifting, and menace me with furious looks. There is a general call for a policeman of the Wholesale Pickpockets' Association; and so I fall silent, and slink away in the throng, and thereafter keep my thoughts to myself.

Over the vast plain I wander, observing a thousand strange and incredible and terrifying manifestations of the Bootstrap-lifting impulse. There is, I discover, a [14] regular propaganda on foot; a long time ago—no man can recall how far back—the Wholesale Pickpockets made the discovery of the ease with which a man's pockets could be rifled while he was preoccupied with spiritual exercises, and they began offering prizes for the best essays in support of the practice. Now their propaganda is everywhere triumphant, and year by year we see an increase in the rewards and emoluments of the prophets and priests of the cult. The ground is covered with stately temples of various designs, all of which I am told are consecrated to Bootstrap-lifting. I come to where a group of people are occupied in laying the corner-stone of a new white marble structure; I inquire and am informed it is the First Church of Bootstrap-lifters, Scientist. As I stand watching, a card is handed to me, informing me that a lady will do my Bootstrap-lifting at five dollars per lift.

I go on to another building, which I am told is a library containing volumes in defense of the Bootstrap-lifters, published under the auspices of the Wholesale Pickpockets. I enter, and find endless vistas of shelves, also several thousand current magazines and papers. I consult these—for my legs have given out in the effort to visit and inspect all phases of the Bootstrap-lifting practice. I discover that hardly a week passes that some one does not start a new cult, or revive an old one; if I had a hundred life-times I could not know all the creeds and ceremonies, the services and rituals, the litanies and