Only through that solidarity of man which links 'the crimes of each to the sorrows of all' is the fault of the builders linked with the perishing of those eighteen. And again we have testimony against any selection of the bad from the good by the calamities of earth. Not even the retribution of the kind of badness which bad building is falls, by God's determination, upon the evil-doer, through instruments of the earth. They are far too rough, these things, too indiscriminating. They do not pierce to the joints and the marrow; they hit like a blind man's bludgeon. Yet this they assuredly are not. As the personal punishment and forgiveness of God seek and find the sinner himself in the depths of his being and to the utmost of his activity, so these things, Towers of Siloam, Armageddons, plague and pestilence, search out our corporate sin and sinfulness, reach the community of sinners in their interaction. By pain and sorrow for all, they bring to light both the sins and the shortcomings of each. Our responsibility for Armageddon extends over the devastation it has wrought, as the responsibility of those builders of the tower made the deaths of the eighteen it killed their own work. In the community of life is community of crime and suffering and all their consequences. There is an identity one with another among men, which they cannot escape. They are one body even when they are not one spirit, and every member of the body may entail disaster on the rest, as he may bring redemption. If we could not hinder life we could not help it. And therefore that word of Christ which was no doubt primarily addressed to those men of Jerusalem whose sins were inviting doom, has other points of significance we need to note. 'Unless ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.' All—the community; likewise—through aid from the calamities and catastrophes of that outer world of things and persons with which we are so closely bound, as well as from the snares and the beguiling, the temptations and betrayal, we make for ourselves in our misuse of it. We are one with the earth—let us remember that. And even those catastrophes of earth for which we seem to have no responsibility, storm and flood and earthquake, are not cut off from a relation with ourselves that may some day be more clear. We are but beginners in the task of entering upon our heritage of earth. And when we try to look deep into the mystery of matter and spirit what we see makes us think that they are not unlike the red and violet ends of a spectrum, which between them passes from colour to colour, but which, when our analytical stretching out is over, returns to the multiplicity in unity of white light. The Christian, by his sacramentalism and his emphasis on incarnation, confesses their kinship, as does the artist when out of three sounds he frames 'not a fourth sound, but a star,' and out of mud or marble, a vision.