The Christian Mission in Larger Dimension

The Christian Mission in Larger Dimension

by Floyd H. Ross

213Modern man is in serious trouble.

The last global time-space barriers to human intercourse have fallen to the jet age. The physical barriers to world community are gone. The crying need of the times is a world community in which people everywhere can participate productively and peacefully. Yet the walls of fear, prejudice, and anxiety stand all too firmly in the midst of our out-dated tribalisms. Modern Western man is at home neither with himself nor with the realm of nature. How can he become at home with his human brothers of other nationalities and creeds? In a sensitively written book, Van der Post has said, “The human tide of unreality is running full. The human being, the natural person, has never had so little honour from life and from himself as to-day. He is imprisoned in theories, in petrified religions, and above all, strangled in his own lack of self-awareness.”¹

Modern man is being forced to cross a new frontier.

This is the frontier of a greatly heightened awareness of what it means to be a human being. In the words of a member of the Jewish community, “I get tired of being continually reminded by my fellow Jews that I am a Jew. I would like to be reminded more often that I am a human being!” The problems of nationalism have 214not been resolved, yet the problems of internationalism must now also be faced.

Modern Christian man is in serious trouble also.

He is prone to use the language of the nineteenth century, the period of great missionary expansionism, as he faces the ending of the twentieth century. His language is archaic; his arguments are usually unconvincing save to those already within the theological circle. The great issue of the hour is not Christian ecumenism but human ecumenism. Laudable as are the efforts of the World Council of Churches to bring some measure of understanding and charity into the relations of non-Roman Christian groups, the greater issue is practically untouched by that organization—namely, how to enter into a significant and mutually rewarding dialogue with the Asian faiths that are now beginning to show fresh life.

How rewarding these continuing conversations can become is determined to a large degree by the attitude of those seeking such conversations. In the words of a sensitive scholar whose spirit embraced both East and West, ‘““We cannot establish human relationships with other peoples if we are convinced of our own superiority or superior wisdom, and only want to convert them to our way of thinking.” His further admonition to the modern Christian is just as appropriate for the modern Hindu, Buddhist, or Moslem.

The modern Christian, who thinks of the world as his parish, is faced with the painful necessity of becoming himself a citizen of the world; he is invited to participate in a symposium and a convivium; not to preside—for there is Another who presides unseen—but as one of many guests,²

The Christian mission today involves bearing witness to a profound search for living truth which can never be confined within any language, theological or nontheological, Christian or non-Christian. Certainly no one of us is qualified to preside in that search. Each can only hope to be a concerned participant.

In the effort to establish genuinely human relationships with thoughtful people of religious faiths other than our own, we need not fall into the trap of too many “Brotherhood Week” programs where politeness or a sweetness-and-light approach sometimes sub-. stitutes for persistent grappling with the important issues of human 215diversity. Each of us who approaches the dialogue situation should be willing to set forth his presuppositions fairly frankly, but without brittleness, in order that they may be taken into account by those participating in the discussion. A few words revealing my own operational assumptions will suffice here.

Man’s basic needs are fundamentally the same although they find radically different ways of coming to expression, both because of the suppleness of human nature and because of the diversities of geographical and cultural conditioning factors. The term needs is not to be confused with the term wants. By basic needs I refer to the need for orientation or a frame of reference, for self-worth, for self-transcendence. (Various writers use different terms here, depending on whether they are primarily psychologists, anthropologists, sociologists, theologians.) The conditions for growth toward physical and spiritual maturity are built into the structure of Teality, from the simplest molecule to the complicated human brain. Growth, even in the religious life, is on the whole “carelesss” of man’s formulas about the growth process; it goes on in spite of our misformulations. Man is never a purely passive agent, however. Responsiveness, capacity for deepened awareness, sensitivity, are all important personal qualities which. seem to encourage the growth process. -

The religions of mankind arise out of man’s deeply felt need for self-transcendence, wholeness, reconciliation, expressed variously as the need for the beatific vision, for communion with God, moksha, nirvana, blessedness, etc. All religions are relative to man’s specific condition or situation, though all religions seek to point beyond themselves to some transcendent dimension of meaning, power, or grace. The gods men worship reveal much more about the nature of man’s search and the shape of his needs at the moment than they reveal about an ultimate reality. However, since man is a significant part of the totality of reality, what every religion “reveals” is never to be ignored.

The “God behind the gods” is always known relatively through his activities, theophanies, incarnations. What any man calls God or the will of God is subject to further clarification and possible repudiation in the light of deepened awareness. God is known in relative ways only, even in those traditions that claim special revelation or “the keys to the kingdom.” In the language of Christian orthodoxy, God is ever known in partially distorted ways be216cause of man’s “sinful condition.” Christians sometimes make a distinction between the “Gospel of Jesus Christ” and “Christianity,” to avoid the relativities and ambiguities associated with the latter term. But the Gospel is not so delivered from the relativities of history; it too is known, professed, and interpreted in history by finite men.

Tillich reminds us of these things when he points out that Christianity is neither final nor universal, even though, according to him, it witnesses to that which is final and Another Christian scholar reminds us that Christianity “can never be more than a hint in history. Its subject is the eternal God, but its mode of communication is history, and in history nothing is evidently eternal.” * And in a similar vein Berdyaev has written that Christianity has remained “an unfinished revelation about the absolute significance and calling of man.” © To recognize that our best interpretations of the will of God for us in history are finite, not final, is to avoid one of the more subtle inducements to idolatry.

To approach the dialogue between the religions with open minds and hearts is not to succumb either to syncretism or to indifference. No Christian is asked to be untrue to his confession of faith and each participant must respect the right of the other to be true to his own integrity. If the conversations are approached with mutual respect and seriousness by all parties concerned, the circle of one’s own faith may be deepened as well as broadened. There has been a tendency for Christians to underestimate the non-Christian religions at their deeper levels through concentrating on the more obvious features of the religious behavior and attitudes of “popular” religion. This is a practice which common courtesy demands that we eliminate. If a Protestant wants to be challenged by Roman Catholicism, he will normally pick out an alert Jesuit or Dominican teacher rather than enter into debate with a harried parish priest in a Mexican village, off the main track of theological conversation. Individual missionaries to non-Christian peoples have done 217this in notable cases, but most of the people in the home churches who finance the missionary programs have not been given the chance to listen to the case for Hinduism made by a Radhakrishnan, a Coomaraswamy, an Aurobindo, a Gandhi, or a swami of the Vedanta Society.

There are significant differences between the major Oriental religions on the one hand and the Semitic religions on the other. For example, attitudes toward nature are not the same. In general the Hindu has been taught to be wary of nature, her illusive and bewitching ways (described as maya); he tends to flee from her. The Buddhist traditionally has been inclined to try to make his peace with nature through finding a “middle way” between asceticism and self-indulgence. The Japanese Shintoist has felt both an esthetic and a divine dimension in nature, and has practiced living in loving interaction with her, as Shinto shrines, Japanese gardens, and the love of poetry illustrate. The Christian has been inclined to dominate nature, in an earlier period because he felt nature to be the abode of Satan and his demonic helpers. After the Renaissance and the Reformation, European Christian man sought to dominate nature “for the glory of God.” Western man still tends to think of nature as something to be conquered—latterly, outer

space. Not only are there differing attitudes toward nature; there are

also different attitudes regarding man, his nature, the nature of his predicament, the highest good which he should aspire to, and the techniques which he should use to actualize the summum bonum. In some cases the differences are greater than in others. But the search for differences should not displace the search for deeperlying similarities. Research into all of these areas must draw increasingly upon the nontheological disciplines rather than being based primarily on Biblical studies. One’s appreciation of his own heritage can be enriched by this kind of study even while he may become aware of the partial perspective which his own faith has supplied him. For the purposes of this chapter I shall confine myself primarily to treatments of the different attitudes toward history.

It has been stated repeatedly that it is the historical character of Christianity, its affirmation of “once-for-allness” in history, which sets it off from all other faiths, and thus undergirds its claim to exclusiveness. Something which was not true before became true in 218the once-for-all Incarnation in Jesus the Christ. “Something happened on Calvary for the first time. God’s redemptive activity in history reached its culmination there.” ® God became flesh, once for all. This kind of incarnational doctrine cannot be paralleled in any other religion, the Christian usually hastens to add. He will admit that Hinduism in its Vishnuite form has a doctrine of incarnation (avatara, or “descents”), but he can point out that according to the Bhagavad Gita the deity descends whenever there is a decline of dharma (“righteousness” or, better, that which binds things together) and a rise of adharma." Deity does not incarnate himself once for all, nor does deity become flesh.

I would agree with the Christians who stress that there is a distinction of fundamental importance here which should not be glossed over by a purely Vedantic interpretation. But it should be pointed out that what is intended by the Hindu teaching of recurring incarnations is not as far removed from the Christian doctrine of incarnation as is sometimes claimed. In each case, the intention is to say something significant about the nature of an ultimate reality that “cares” and “reaches out” toward men redemptively. The devotional path (bhakti marga) of Hinduism does affirm that the ultimate invades history, contrary to some Christian statements. However, Hinduism holds that the ultimate invades history in a variety of forms, places, and times; whereas the Christian’s affirmation has been that the decisive invasion took place once for all. Niles has pointed out that in the Saiva Siddhanta form of Hinduism the claim is made that the truth of Saiva Siddhanta is the only saving truth, but “this truth is not pegged down in history 219as is the case with Jesus Christ.” ® For the Christian, speaking to Christians, there is no fault here. But in speaking to non-Christians, the Christian must bear in mind that truth is “pegged down” in different ways in different confessional points of view even within Christian circles. Does not the devout Roman Catholic find truth pegged down in a papal utterance bearing on faith and morals? Does not the Fundamentalist find truth pegged down in his interpretation of the Bible? Each of us runs the danger of self-deception in trying to peg down truth too decisively. It is a matter of human history, which the student of religious behavior must take seriously, that truth has been made real to persons in many ways and guises.

The early Christians did put forth the claim that “There is no other name given under heaven for the salvation of men.” That the early Christians may have been overzealous in stating it in this way is a possibility the Christian must live with. For such a claim is subject neither to historical proof nor disproof. One either believes it or he does not. For the Christian, the decisive act of God is seen in the person and work of Jesus Christ. But believing this in faith does not rule out entertaining the possibility that this decisive act may point to that which has been experienced as reality in other modes and under other names. A faith experience cannot justify a particular concept or interpretation of that experience.®

The case for the distinctiveness of the Christian stress on history is also overstated when it is claimed that Jesus Christ is the only saviour in the history of religions who is a historical This would involve disproving the Hindu claim that behind the Lord Krishna of the Gita lies a historical figure, and proving the nonhistoricity of Gautama the Buddha who lies back of the many Buddhas and Bodhisattvas of Buddhist faith affirmations.™*

Do the non-Christian religions find no ultimate meaning in life or history? According to Michalson the non-Christian cultures have 220been satisfied with less than ultimacy in history whereas the Christian proclamation has given rise to a history “in which it has been revealed that there is an absolute meaning in life.” +* The person who does not feel that there is any ultimacy in history, according to Michalson, falls either into revolt or resignation.

The human thirst for ultimate meaning, while felt in varying degrees, I would regard as universal. But I do not think evidence can be adduced to support the claim that only in Christianity can this thirst be satisfied. Arguments for the “ultimacy” of Christianity come perilously close to revealing a singular lack of feeling for ultimacy and a preoccupation with proximate concerns. The non-Christian religions at their best have, in their own way, been just as critical as prophetic Christianity in refusing to identify proximate goals with ultimate values. Or it might be more accurate to say that all the living religions have often fallen short of their own best insights in this area. In any event, faith in ultimacy can readily coexist with recognition of the purely relative and tentative character of one’s arguments in support of ultimacy. Jew, Christian, and Moslem are now being invited to face up to some of the problems which arise when primarily Semitic (i.e., Near Eastern and European) categories of religious interpretation are used as though they alone can throw significant light on the divine-human encoun-

The Christian would move more readily into a dialogue with non-

Christians if he would recognize consciously the two levels on which he moves when he talks about his own faith. These two levels are the confessional and the historical. Historical here is to be understood in its more ordinary usage, involving the methods of historiography and the attempt to establish the occurrence or nonoccurrence of objective events. “Sacred history” and historiography often are not talking about the same events at all, or, if they are talking about the same events, they talk about them in two radically different ways. “Sacred history” may make use of historical methods, but the “events” it seeks to establish can only be made to 221appear to be established by such methods. Jesus of Nazareth is a historical fact or event. The Christ of faith is an inner reality. When a Christian says, “Jesus Christ is the only way,” he is making a confession of faith just as he is when he testifies to his faith in the “once-for-allness.” The confessional viewpoint may point to “outer events” in history as vividly illustrating inner response, but it cannot establish a logical or factual connection between them. A confession of faith always testifies to what has happened in my or our history, not in history as such,

The confessional viewpoint is intimately related to the mythic.

In myth and its correlated rituals mankind has ever sought to make his experience intelligible and meaningful to himself. The “language” of religion is the language of myth and poetry. Back of the myths which are reflected in narratives and rituals are mythic archetypes which are always operative in the life of faith. Philip Wheelwright has said that the very essence of myth is “that haunting awareness of transcendental forces peering through the cracks of the visible universe.” 4* Myth relates to that which is felt to be “eternally true.” The great mythic themes are timeless ones which have recurred again and again in human history—myths of the dying and rising god, of the great mother, of resurrection and rebirth, of the beatific vision, of Tillich has written that “myths are symbols of faith combined in stories about divine-human encounters.” 7° Myths wax and wane, but myth is never absent from man’s spiritual life “for the myth is the combination of symbols of our ultimate concern…. There is no substitute for the use of symbols and myths: they are the language of faith.” 17

All of the early Christians’ affirmations about Jesus the Christ were in the mythic dimension. They believed that Christ was in 222some sense the “Messiah,” or the “Son of Man,” or the “Son of God.” Some believed that he had a “virgin birth.” All of these themes are ancient mythic themes, paralleled over and over again in the religions of mankind. That God “chose” one race to be “His people,” that Jesus was a preexistent “divine being” whose coming marks the end of the “present age,” that God let “His Son” die on a cross in order that the “Son’s” death might obtain “atonement for the sins of man,” that through Christ’s “resurrection” the demonic powers of the world have been robbed of their dominion, that Christ will return on the clouds in his glory to finish his work of destroying sin, suffering, and death, that “there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved”—all of this is mythic.²⁰

To say that it is myth is obviously not to say that it is fictitious. Myth is a vehicle of faith. Faith, myth, and poetry all refer to and reflect a dimension of life that is deeper than the purely historical, or the realm of objectification. The confessional viewpoint draws its vitality, not from the historical events to which it may point, but from the depths of the spirit where myth in the deeper sense always resides, though often partially sleeping, as it were. Interpreters of the Christian Gospel may think that they “demonstrate” its truth by an appeal to “history,” but all of their language points to the primacy of the mythic. In ordinary history it can be said that every event is unique or once for all; but in “sacred history” once-forallness refers to a dimension of meaning that is felt to be timetranscending and time-transforming.

Most statements regarding the “scandal” of Christianity thus miss the vital point.’²¹ The scandal lies in taking what is definitely 223mythic-confessional language and treating it literally or historically, thus confusing many of those who stand outside the circle of faith and also excluding discussion of other temporal formulations of the eternal-mythic theme in other circles of faith, Hindu, Buddhist, and the like. The mythic theme underlying the New Testament is timeless but the language and forms of the New Testament definitely are not. They are archaic. To identify faith with a particular expression of faith is to fall into idolatry. No man’s interpretations of the action of God should be canonized.

The appeal to history never establishes the validity of a religiously interpreted event even though certain events may have precipitated the faith response. There is no “objective” security for the man who lives by faith. What the Christian calls the “facts of redemption are themselves objects of faith and are apprehended as such _ only by the eye of faith. They cannot be perceived apart from faith….”²² The vitality of a religious experience is rooted in the mythic dimension of man’s being, and is appropriated existentially in the living now, never in some “then.” Faith expresses itself symbolically through mythological language and sacramentally through rituals and in the so-called fruits of the spirit. Christian myth is “truer” than Christian history for those who believe, for myth has its vitality prior to either the proof or disproof of any specific event or series of events. The vital outward expression of a profound myth is a life lived sacramentally. Whitehead has somewhere said that expression is the only sacrament. The expression of myth at its best is in art forms or poetry.

Why has there been this reluctance to state the case for the Christian myth? Part of it lies in pejorative uses of the term myth in nineteenth-century rationalism and so-called liberalism. Some of the hesitancy revolves in various uses of the terms myth and mythological by contemporary writers. Tillich seeks to introduce clarity into the picture by distinguishing between natural myths and historical myths. He refuses to follow those Christian theologians 224who would limit the term myth to repetitive natural processes understood in their ultimate meaning. Christianity for him roots in a historical myth—that Christ appears in the fullness of time, lives, dies, and is resurrected. But Christianity nonetheless speaks the mythological language, he insists, like every other religion.²³ I am not persuaded that the distinction is too fundamental. What one religion sees as cyclical or repetitive (a “natural” myth), for example, the struggle between the powers of good and evil, or incarnations, another religion may view in a once-for-all pattern (“historical” myth). A myth becomes “historical” by confessional proclamation: e.g., the Christian confession about “fullness of time” is a nonhistorical category growing out of Christian faith. If the mythic dimension is as important for the understanding of the religious life as it seems to be, it is important in spite of whatever adjectives we may choose to put in front of the term myth.

However, an additional source of the confusion over whether the Christian faith is mythic arises from Bultmann’s use of the term “demythologizing” (Entmythologisierung). The term is subject to considerable confusion. Bultmann is concerned with discovering the deeper meanings behind the New Testament mythological conceptions. But in doing this he tends to equate mythology, or the myth, with one of its dimensions only, i.e., its objectifying tendency.

He says, for example, that Mythology expresses a certain understanding of human existence. It believes that the world and human life have their ground and their limits in a power which is beyond all that we can calculate or control. Mythology speaks about this power inadequately and insufficiently because it speaks about it as if it were a wordly power…. Myths give worldly objectivity to that which is unworldly.²⁴

Bultmann is not unaware that there is another, and deeper, dimension to the mythic; for in speaking of “God as acting,” he 225points out that it is within the so-called natural, secular events that God’s hidden action takes place. This hidden action is visible only

to the eye of faith. If someone now insists that to speak in this sense of God as acting is to speak mythologically, I have no objection, since in this case myth is something very different from what it is as the object of demythologizing. When we speak of God as acting, we do not speak mythologically in the objectifying sense.?3

In attacking outdated mythic expressions in the New Testament, Bultmann has not been concerned to state the case for myth in this profound dimension. But vital demythologizing can only be carried on to the degree that the mythic, or faith, dimension has laid hold upon a man, inviting him to live ever more deeply by faith, not by fact.?4

As it stands, Bultmann’s process of demythologizing is incomplete. He regards the New Testament descriptions both of “the life without Christ” and of “the life with Christ” as mythological. But the transition from the one life to the other is brought about by the’ action of God through Jesus Christ, and this he refuses to regard as mythological.*° His reason seems to be that because of the nature of sin, man cannot make the transition on his own. Man is “fallen” and every attempt to establish himself on his own power is doomed to failure. For Bultmann “fallen man” sees sin as mythological when he ought to see it as nonmythological.”¢

But if the “fall” is mythological, so also is “sin” or “fallenness.”

Sin is a religious-mythological category and not an empiricalhistorical one. Immorality and morality are social-historical terms; sin and grace are religious-mythological terms. The man who says, “I have done a wrong” stands in an entirely different frame of reference than the man who says, “I have sinned.” Sin carries the connotation of an offense against the transcendent source of being, 226and thus is a category of religious faith. This is not to try to deny the actuality, for the religious man, of sin and of the love of God which redeems; but it is to point out that the language throughout is mythic and not historical.

For the person who may not find it possible to use the archaic language of the ancient mythic theme, it is not necessary to try to describe the transition from “old being” to “New Being” in any one specific fashion, nor necessarily with reference to the Christian event. How or why some people do, and some do not, make the transition from what, in New Testament language, is called “the life without Christ” to “the life with Christ” is still a mystery to both psychologist and theologian, sinner or saint! Like sin, “The work of God in Christ” is a mythological category, the significance of which cannot be grasped by the man who stands outside the circle of Christian faith. The transition from the state of no-faith to the state of faith is a mystery. Nothing is gained either for human understanding or for the Christian faith by claiming that the transition is nonmythological.²⁷

For the Christian, the Jesus of history and the Christ of faith are inextricably intertwined, just as the entire Gospel is a mixture of the mythical and the historical. Both of these poles of the Christian faith must be kept in view. Neither should be ignored. When the historical has been practically denied, Christians have escaped into flights of allegory, fantastic speculations about emanations, and invidious forms of esotericism where the only canons applied have been those of private wish or private myth. Where the mythic has been denied or repressed, Christians have taken refuge in sterile literalisms, legalisms, fundamentalisms and brittle dogmatisms.

The quest for the historical Jesus can always contribute something not only to the Christian’s interpretation of the historical setting of his faith but also to his own moral and religious life. But the deeper realms of the life of prayer and worship lie in the poetic and mythic depths of man’s spirit, not dependent upon the historical knowledge that his studies may reveal. Most of the early Christians believed in the imminent end of the age and the return of the Christ. The nonfulfillment of that literal expectation did not kill off the 227Church, very probably because that belief, like others, was rooted in the mythic depths of their lives and was not tied to historical “fact.”

To live by faith is not to live “by the facts” but by a power that has somehow seized one and transformed him from a person living in extreme self-centeredness to a person who can accept his finitude and live and work with others in compassion and understanding. Such a person does not demand final “answers.” When we insist on the timeless significance of the basic Christian affirmations and then cling to time-bound parochial interpretations of the mythic theme, we take a loyalty oath to one interpretation of human history, thus denying our deeper humanity.

Early Christians said such things as “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life,” and “God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself.” These confessions of faith, evoked by a man who had a place in history and who had an incomparable faith in God, were drawn from the same deep recesses of the human spirit as the ancient Chinese symbolism of the Yin-Yang, the Shiva-Shakti symbolism of Hinduism, the Yab-Yum symbolism of Tibet. All these seem to root in the human dream of a reconciliation, of a return to the source of all. Symbols and their local interpretations may periodically fade away, but the mythic theme goes on being reborn anew in seers and poets and sages.

Because of man’s finitude, all interpretations of myths and symbols are relative. To be able to accept the relative as relative is one sign of the strength of the faith that is in a person. As Christians, we should go forth seeking converse with men of other faiths, not offering an absolute message but seeking to express the faith that is in us. In these conversations, one attitude which must be excluded is the attitude of exclusiveness. For he who feels he already “has” the truth does not enter fully into dialogue. He is much readier to speak than to listen.

As we learn to live more profoundly in n faith, we talk less ‘and less about “the only way” even though we nourish the hope that we may be “in the way.” Hocking has pointed out that

consciously or not, each one is seeking not “a” Way, but the “Only Way”: just as any scientist is concerned to have not “a” truth, but The Truth, so the worshipper in whatever name will his way the Only Way, not as a proprietary nostrum but as The Truth indivisible and The Life, and as universal for just that reason.

228But he adds significantly:

Thus understood, the Only Way, so far as its essence has by valid induction achieved finality, is no longer the Way that marks out one religion from all others: it is the Way already present in all, either explicitly or in ovo. The several universal religions are already fused together, so to speak, at the

In all of our mission, whatever form it may take, we do well to keep in mind what Hocking in a much earlier writing called the nonintrusive work of There is a human tendency to assume that God works best, or only, in the way in which we have been taught to see God’s work. Semitic man generally has made much of the claims for the intrusive work of God, his “mighty actions”—actions that lend themselves all too readily to Hollywood Biblical dramas. The mystics of all faiths, and the living traditions at their highest, have been much more interested in the nonintrusive work of God.

Bultmann makes a comment in another context which is not radically out of line with Hocking’s statement. He who thinks that it is possible to speak of wonders as of demonstrable

events capable of proof offends against the thought of God as acting in hidden ways. He subjects God’s action to the control of objective observation. He delivers up the faith in wonders to the criticism of science and in so doing validates such criticism.3°

In these times no man and no religious tradition suffer if we talk about “approaches” to God. All of us need to live more in faith; in this mood no one finds it necessary to cling to the faith. This includes our having more trust that God is ever making His nonintrusive approaches to all men everywhere. Our common humanity and our common need for reconciliation lie deeper within us than our Jewish, Christian, Buddhist, or Moslem confessions of faith. Where this profound feeling of our oneness with all humanity underlies our mission, instead of remaining primarily instruments of the institutions that have nourished us, we may become instruments of the living God.

Tip: use the ← and → keys to move between chapters; press Ctrl K to search. Share any printed page with index.html?p=<page>.

↑ Back to top ⬇ Download the scanned PDF