THERE IS SOMETHING PRIMITIVE about sickness and death. The experience of enduring pain, of being forced off one's feet, of having to wait out the slow turning of health-restoring forces, modern man holds in common with his primitive forebears. He is quite as mystified by illness, however more comfortable as a patient, as was ever anyone before him. Illness and death is a time of crisis; in times of crisis, as Dr. Walter H. Judd said recently, People ask fundamental questions, not, 'What is your golf score?' 'How do you like the new fashions in hats?' or, 'What bridge system do you play ?' In illness, people who have not thought of religion seriously for years ask, Why has this happened to me? What is the use anyway? Those are religious questions which have to do with the fundamental nature of things. A chaplain who served with the American troops at the front through eight months of hard fighting told me that he often listened to learned discussions, back of the lines, which attempted to disprove the validity of prayer and the existence of God. But at the front, when the pressure was on, as the men set themselves for the zero hour of going over the top or as they waited out a barrage, then every man was praying. In the sickroom have you not seen Bibles and prayer-books and beads upon bedside tables? Have you not observed patients turn their faces into their pillows and lie quietly? Have you not seen the moving of lips as patients are wheeled into the operating room? Have you not had patients cling to your hand and beg you, Pray for me? It is not fair to ask you what you did. My point simply is that in times of crisis people turn to fundamental things, to questions with which organized religion has always dealt. Religion in its inception was brought about by man's recognition of his helplessness; he had an altar before he had a home and he attempted to appease the spirits around him before he appeased the physical hunger within him. Religion in its beginning, as always, was man's effort to establish a satisfactory and satisfying relationship between himself and the universe. In the distant dawn of time much of his desire to worship was actuated by fear, but as he gained understanding and control over nature, as he learned to codperate with nature for his own welfare and security, he continued to worship, not because of fear, but because there was still that same old urge within him to establish a satisfying relationship between himself and That which he had come to call God. Illness is a throw-back. We see patients seeking reassurance at a time of crisis; they cling to the basic elements of their faith. With many it is a question of going back years, back to a time when their religious faith was consciously active and they were in touch with organized religion. In time of crisis, religious leaders also emphasize fundamental beliefs, cutting across differences in creed in an effort to bring reassurance and peace to those who seek it. A good example of this is the story of that great war chaplain, Father Duffy, who knelt beside a