Religion: Buchmanites

Noisy, dirty, impolite, Nobody loves a Buchmanite.

—Princeton Song.

The patient votaries of that curious collegiate cult called “Buchmanism,” received last week one of the rebuffs upon which they thrive. The Oxford Isis published a scornful editorial which spoke of “restraint flung aside . . . souls laid bare . . . hysterical confessions . . . fervor which no longer pretends to be religious . . . perverted religious mania . . .” and concluded with these stern and sober words:

“The authorities appear to be alarmed but remain apathetic. It is time something is done about it. Accordingly, we take this opportunity of asking the university authorities to remove from Oxford those who are responsible for the phenomenon, which would be faintly comic were it not apt to produce such extremely unpleasant results.”

Buchmanism, in its essentials, is easily seen as an adaptation of Christianity which contains many features of traditional excellence. Conversion, contemplation, confession—upon these it lays emphasis. One peculiarity, however, has made it famous and has caused its founder, Frank N. D. Buchman, Muhlenburg graduate and Lutheran minister, to be called ugly names. At Buchman “houseparties” (gatherings devoted to mutual confession and “washing out”), sex is the pièce de résistance. Mr. Buchman and his assistants are accused of reducing their diagnoses of spiritual sufferings to bad sex habits. The weak-chinned element in schools and colleges, full of relief at finding so plain a focal point for their self-betterment ambitions or so simple a seeming cause for all their adolescent agonies, succumb readily to the “spiritual surgery” which follows this easy diagnosis.

The ranks of Buchmanism are by no means filled with the sons of the humble; the founder of the sect has an attraction if not a predilection for the rich and for crowned heads. His influence upon the members of the Royal House of Rumania has been marked and apparent. Queen Marie, at whose palace Frank Buchman has made long visits, talks with the fetching lack of reserve which characterizes the true Buchmanite, while her second son, weak-chinned Prince Nicholas, one of the regents of Rumania and uncle to small

King Mihai, is an ardent disciple of his mother’s friend.

Last week’s outcry at Oxford bears a close resemblance to the events which preceded Dr. Buchman’s expulsion from the campus of Princeton, four years ago. At Oxford, however, there are perhaps not more than 75 Buchmanites of whom several are dons. After the outcry, the authorities made no move, undergraduates exhibited a lackadaisical approval, and Buchmanites continued to hold their “morning watches,” and to move in their mysterious ways.