The Reformation – and Martin Luther

October 28, 2001
Venice

Rewrite of
October 26, 1958, Akron
Also: Rochester 10/29/61, Revised 10/25/64

This is Reformation Sunday, marking the birthday of the Protestant Church and the revolt from Roman Catholicism. Next Wednesday marks the four hundred and eighty-fourth anniversary of the day Martin Luther tacked the 95 theses to the door of Wittenberg Cathedral. The religious, political, economic, and social changes effected by the Protestant Reformation represent [some] of the most important, if not the most important, changes in the history of the Western world. I would like to discuss the leading person of the Reformation, one of the most controversial persons in history, Martin Luther. He was a saint, sinner, vulgarian, or anti-Semitic bigot, depending on the point of view from which he is seen. His followers hailed him as a true prophet of the Lord. Roman Catholics called him a child of the devil and accused him of demolishing Christianity. The agrarian reformers of that turbulent sixteenth century said he was the toady, tool, and supporter of the feudal lords and princes. Religious radicals, Carlstadt and Muenster, for example, compared him to Moses, who led the way out of captivity in Egypt, but then deserted his followers, leaving them to perish in the wilderness. Those who have looked at this personal life with critical eye have thought him to be a coarse libertine who broke with his Roman Catholic tradition so that he might marry a nun and rear children in sin and vulgarity. The critics submit Luther’s own writings, TABLE TALK, as evidence of his degraded personality.

This we know, the history of the world was altered because Martin Luther lived. In abolishing the authority of the Pope, Martin Luther established the freedom of the Christian. When this principle became established, the administration of the religious institution became the responsibility of the parish, a congregation of lay people. Martin Luther did not anticipate, and actually opposed, some of the consequences of the Reformation he spearheaded. The principle of the authority of the lay congregation had extreme political as well as religious effects. The self-administration of religion pointed the way to worldly self-government as well. Therefore, it is of particular importance to the liberal groups whose guiding principle of freedom is the most uninhibited, to try to understand Martin Luther. This presentation divides into

1) the setting,
2) the Augustinian priest,
3) the reformer and supporter of princes, and
4) the man, Martin Luther.

Although Martin Luther is the most notable figure of the Reformation, he was not born when the Reformation began. To know the Reformation, we need to understand that the Renaissance, the revival of learning, the recovery of the ancient Greek belief in the worth of the humans, had been in progress for at least two centuries. Petrarch and Boccaccio had notably advanced Humanist studies. The Medici family, also of Florence, had been the greatest patrons of art, sculpture, literature, and philosophy that the European world had known. Under their patronage, Michelangelo, DaVinci, Mirandola, Raphael and others had created arts and letters that still summon our wonder at their genius. In 1453, the world’s greatest cultural center, Constantinople, had fallen to the Turks. The scholars there who had preserved the manuscripts and art objects of Hellenism fled to Italy and other parts of Europe. 12 Universities were founded in Germany between 1409 and 1506.

Not only did the Renaissance signal the revival of arts and learning, but a most important political movement was beginning to make its strong eddies felt in the ebb and flow of the Holy Roman Empire. Although Germany lagged somewhat, England, France and Spain had assumed form as nations. The mass of people had no share in the political rewards or freedoms, although they were the objects of the most severe hardships and sufferings. Their unquestioned place was serfdom.

The Roman Catholic was the authoritarian church. There was no toleration of heresy, but the seeds that were to bear fruit in Luther’s time had already been sown. John Wyclif of England, opposed to the wealth of the church and clerical interference in all walks of life, believed that the Bible should be the possession of the people and had translated the scriptures into English. Wyclif was executed for heresy, his ashes scattered on Thames, but neither his convictions nor his bravery were forgotten. 1373 marked the birth of John Hus, a Bohemian priest, who was influenced by Wyclif’s teachings and Hus preached an evangelical doctrine which was anathema to the Roman Catholic church. John Hus avowed publicly that the head of the Church was Christ, not the Pope. The unprincipled church gave him safe conduct to the Council of Constance, but broke faith and burned him at the stake, July 6, 1415, but neither was his memory forgotten nor his principles rejected by his followers. In 1498, the austere monk of Florence, Savonarola denounced the Pope. After a succession of temporary triumphs and then humiliating defeat, Savonarola was burned at the stake. But even as smoke and smell from the burning flesh and faggots were dispersed to the winds, so the knowledge of his revolt became widely perceived by later reformers, including Martin Luther, who was but a fifteen-year-old student when Savonarola was executed.

Something else had happened which was to make the world different than it had ever been before. Moveable type printing had been invented – the peoples of the world would not only become more literate, but the printed word was to bring them the wisdom of scripture in their own language, and they read the protesting pamphlets of the reformers.

In this seething caldron of social change, a baby boy was born to a peasant miner, Hans Luther and his wife, Marguerite, in 1483. November 10 was St. Martin’s day, and the infant was named Martin after the patron saint. Martin’s parents were peasants, but Hans Luther was not content to accept the poverty and misery of the miner’s lot. By individual effort he labored to make his lot better and his family more comfortable and privileged. In these beginning times of individualism, his efforts brought some rewards. Martin was able to go to school and University to be prepared for the practice of law, which was his father’s wish for his eldest son.

The schools at that time were organized, administered, and taught by the Church and its various orders. Martin’s early schooling was directed by the Brethren of the Common Life, an order dedicated to education. Then, in the University, he was influenced by the Augustinian order. Under the strong influence of the monks, together with his personality, which was unusually sensitive to supernaturalism and mystery, along with his fine mind, which was capable of wrestling with the intricate language of philosophy and theology, Martin Luther found his hopes turning toward the Church and away from the Law. Although Hans Luther was deeply religious, his wish that Martin be a Doctor of Law was so strong that when Martin announced that he was to become an Augustinian monk, his father was deeply hurt. Years were to pass before he really forgave the son who was frustrating the parent’s deepest wish.

After a farewell party, Martin’s friends escorted him to the Augustinian cloister at Erfurt on the 17th of July 1505. He entered its gates there to endure the privation of the order and to know the religious joy of humbling his passions, following the tedious routine of prayer and study, eventually, when ordained to know the mystery or celebrating the Mass, in which the wafer and wine became the body and blood of Christ.

As a monk, Martin Luther was conscientious to a degree we would believe to be unnatural. He fasted for days at a time, went night after night without sleep so that he might devote himself to prayer unceasingly (and in so doing permanently injured his health). He whipped himself to subdue the desires of the flesh. Although he was a model of holiness to his brother monks, his personal anxiety increased. He became increasingly morbid. Luther, a child of his times, feared the devil and believed the arts of witchcraft could have a dreadful effect on him. The iron discipline of the Augustine order had the natural effect of subduing his outward expressions of feeling and intensifying the inward fires of human passions.

Following his ordination as a priest, he turned to teaching at the University and soon became a most popular teacher. His large following of students was drawn for several reasons. His peasant inheritance gave him the common touch, plain talk, and natural illustration which reached the core of subjects. To a lesser degree than monks of more aristocratic background, was he bound to narrow conventions and traditional formulas. Following his master’s degree, he earned the degree of Doctor of Theology, a scholastic honor rare in those days.

His talents and drive soon won greater recognition. When only 31 years old, in 1515, he was appointed District-Vicar of the Augustinian order. Thus, in addition to his devotional duties as a monk, his university responsibilities as a teacher of philosophy, he had the additional duty of administrative responsibility, superintending the 10 Augustinian monasteries in his district.

This devout Augustinian monk was obsessed not only with neurotic fears for his salvation, but also he was upset by dishonesty and corruption readily discovered in the church of that day, which was dominated by the Renaissance Popes, who had a high degree of sensitivity to artistic beauty and an insensitive attitude toward personal and organizational corruption.

Martin Luther and another monk made a pilgrimage to Rome. He had hopes that this would be a high experience in his life, but [it] resulted in considerable disillusion. In Rome he could not help observing the corruption, hypocrisy, and political knavery of the hierarchy. The irreverence of the priesthood shocked this simple, devout German peasant priest. It is said that while climbing the sacred stairs on his knees, that Paul’s words to the Romans fixed themselves in Luther’s brain, “the just shall live by faith.” He realized that acts of piety like climbing stairs on his knees were of little effect. The extent to which the Rome visit influenced his revolt, we do not know. Perhaps it was a small but significant episode in his life.

The real spark of the Reformation was ignited when the Roman hierarchy decided that in order to build magnificent St. Peter’s Basilica, much money had to be raised. So the sale of indulgences was authorized. The doctrine was that by their purity the saints had built up a bank account (so to speak) of piety, on which the sinful could draw to lessen their years in Purgatory. So, Tetzel, a monk went through the countryside urging the peasants to buy indulgences so that their dead relatives might be released from Purgatory sooner. It is said that Pope Leo X, who was the son of Lorenzo de Medici, said cynically about the response of the believing peasants, “This story of Jesus has helped us a lot.”

On October 31, 1517, Martin Luther tacked a manuscript to the door of Wittenberg Cathedral. 95 propositions for debate were listed. Luther questioned the indulgences with a series of logical propositions, the most telling of which proposed that if the Pope had the power to release souls from Purgatory, then he should do so at once, not for money, but out of the spirit of love and charity.

Although years were to elapse between the nailing of the theses to the door of Wittenberg Cathedral and the actual formation of the Reformed Church, that date is historically looked upon as the birthday of Protestantism.

Luther’s theses were formal statements, but his vernacular comment was, “God will not tolerate this flea market.”

News of the opposition of this Augustinian monk to the plans of the hierarchy soon reached Rome, and action followed. There were years of ecclesiastical maneuvering. Luther refused to recant. He had a famous debate with John Eck and undoubtedly would have been executed except for a new historical tide. Nationalism was dawning; and the feudal lords and princes of Germany were very much opposed to the Roman Church drawing off large sums of money from the homeland for St. Peter’s or any other foreign enterprise.

Luther began to write and his statements pointed unquestionably to strong differences with the Church at Rome. He proposed the priesthood of all believers, and that there were only two sacraments authorized by scripture: baptism and the Lord’s Supper. These statements were heretical, unquestionably, and Luther was summoned to appear before the Diet of Worms (“Here I stand”). Luther was excommunicated, and would have been seized, except Frederick, elector of Saxony, had him spirited away to Wartburg Castle. But the printing press was pounding out Luther’s writings, [which] were distributed widely, and the people responded. When Luther emerged from Wartburg, he found himself organizing a Reformed Church.

Then occurred one of the more puzzling aspects of Luther’s strange character: The impetus to religious freedom had other consequences. The peasants revolted against the landlords and princes. It was somewhat natural, but unexpected that they should seek to throw off political and economic oppression when the way to religious freedom had been pointed out. From our perspective we know this is one of the glories of religious freedom – other benefits to humankind are natural consequences. But Luther proved to be the the toady, the tool, the supporter of the princes. Neither the implications of religious freedom nor love for the peasant people from which he sprang mitigated the severity of his condemnation of the Peasants’ Revolt. To the aristocratic Lords and Princes, Luther offered these words of encouragement, “Hearken dear Lords... Let him who can stab, strike, and strangle... These are such times that a prince can go to heaven more easily by spilling blood than others through prayer.”

The peasants were crushed, murdered, tortured, starved.

Luther was not a tolerant man. Even admitting that like all persons, he was a child of his own age, we find it difficult to reconcile this devout man who professed the Lordship of the gentle Christ with the Luther who was savage not only with the Peasants’ War, but also had a bigoted hatred of Jews, and was unremitting in his urgings to destroy and persecute them.

Luther could not get along with other reformers. He refused to shake hands with Zwingli, because the latter would not accept Luther’s interpretation of the Lord’s Supper.

But Martin Luther was not only an Augustinian priest, a reformer of strange and devious as well as noble ways, he was also a man. When the reformers were celebrating freedom from the Roman Catholic church, the monasteries and convents were opened, the monks and nuns sought marriage and Christian homes, sometimes marrying each other. Catherine von Bora was a nun jilted by a suitor shortly after her release from the convent. Martin Luther tried to be a marriage broker for her and find a suitable husband. However, when it was reported to him that Catherine von Bora would marry only Dr. Amsdorf or Dr. Luther, he investigated further, he checked it out, with the result shortly after, Martin Luther and ex-nun Catherine von Bora were married. They established their home in the Augustinian cloister where Luther formerly had led the monastic life.

Theirs was a busy home with much affection, the ex-nun soon became “my Katie” to Luther. Not only were children born to them, but also they were hospitable and generous to the homeless. At one time not less than eleven orphans shared their home and table. The reminiscences of this home life are found in Luther’s TABLE TALK, remarkable for the insight it gives into the personality of this father. He was gentle, but at times objectionably vulgar and rude.

When illness or the plague struck, as it did frequently in those days, the hand of death entered the home. Of the children, Elizabeth died in infancy. When little Hans was ill, Martin Luther composed and to comfort him sang the famous childrens’ Christmas carol, “Away in a Manger”. Hans and Paul lived to maturity. Marguerite lived to girlhood, but in a agonizing time of trial for the busy parents, she died of illness. In the grief of that occasion, Luther formed the tune and words of his greatest hymn, “A Mighty Fortress is our God.” [CJW note: based on Psalm 46]

This aging father had innumerable organization details of the reformed church. He was called to settle disputes between princes. His health, never good since his monastic days, grew worse. After a winter journey under difficult conditions, he died after attempting to resolve a conflict between two Lords.

What shall we say of this man? He was a leading reformer. He was a reactionary who was unbelievably harsh with his fellow peasants. He was intolerant. He was an anti-Semite. He was coarse and vulgar. But also, he was a great preacher and scholar. He translated the Bible into German, giving the people the Scripture. His courage sparked the Reformation, giving birth to the numerous free Christian groups, among which in later years our own was to be numbered. He was the Reformation’s greatest hymn writer. Albert Schweitzer, who had a doctorate in music as well as doctorates in medicine and theology, remarked that the only person who really understood Martin Luther was Johann Sebastian Bach. He was a kind and loving but financially embarrassed father. He was a teacher who won the respect of his students.

But the most affectionate and most human epitaph that the Reformer earned was written by the ex-nun who became his wife and the mother of their children. A month after his death, Catherine von Bora Luther, writing to her sister, Christina, said, “Who would not be sorrowful and mourn for so noble a man as my dear Lord, who served not only one city or land, but the whole world? Truly I am so distressed that I cannot tell my sorrow to anyone. If I had a principality or an empire, it would never have cost me so much pain to lose them as I have now that our Lord God has taken from me, and not from me only, but from the whole world, this dear and precious man.”

Religion must be not only in a person’s heart as an inward loyalty to that which he or she believes true and righteous, convictions must become known in the world. And no reformation is ever complete until justice is accomplished and the world of persons ruled by all persons, because equally they are entitled to the human dignity and worth which should be the birthright of all souls. Those who are devoted to such religious values will discover in their own experience that the cause of reform is never jaded, its goals ever re-defined.

Not because we would endorse the theology of Luther’s greatest hymn, but because a tribute to him is fitting on this 484th anniversary of Protestantism, may we join in singing #104, “A Mighty Fortress is our God.”

Celebration

October 8, 2001

October 3rd to 7th were some of the most meaningful days of my life. My family came great distances to celebrate my 90th birthday, October 4.

The festivities began October 3rd with dinner at Sara’s. Bill, Alicia and Erik had arrived earlier. Alicia, after finding the necessary pans, baked a sumptuous birthday cake.

Arriving at various times:

From Brasilia – Bill, Alicia, Erik
From California – Marj, Dale, Mark, Martin, Lauren
From Tennessee – Carl A.
From Virginia – Kathy, Ken, Erica, Alex, Ralph, Marie and her friend, David
From Maryland – Shawn
From Oregon – Janet, Ron, Christina, Ian
From South Carolina – Michael
From Atlantic Beach, Florida – John, Renee, Kevin, Andrea, Troy, Kyle, Serena

[My] birthday, October 4, was celebrated at the large house Marj and Dale had rented on Longboat Key. Delicious barbecued food, a champagne toast to the old man, delightful inter-relationships as family members enjoyed each other’s company.

Members of the family did all the planning. I did not have to do anything but be there and enjoy. And enjoy I did.

One consequence of old age is one shrinks in height. But even before my two inch loss, grandsons Michael, Carl, Ian, Ralph would have towered over me – all of them well over six feet tall. And all the other males were taller than I am except for the great-grandchildren.

Then on Friday, October 5, was the open house at the Sarasota Unitarian Universalist church. The courtesy of the church in providing the most appropriate South Wing was much appreciated. I was placed in a chair where people could come and greet me – and the estimate is that over 150 people came, most of them from the Sarasota membership, but also friends from Lakeland, Winter Haven, Tampa, Port Charlotte.

The family, with Sara’s help, did all the planning. I understand John and Ron had to make two additional food and wine “runs.” I was overwhelmed by the affectionate warmth of the occasions. I can only echo Cardinal Wolsey in HENRY VIII (Act II) where he says:

“For your great graces
Heap’d upon me, poor undeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks, ....”

I am very grateful that I was the catalyst for a wonderful family reunion. In addition, I received a deluge of greeting cards.

Let me go on record right now – after this carnival of joys, hugs, memories, hopes, gifts, great food, fine wine, when I reach “the undiscover’d country from whose bourn, no traveler returns,” when I have “bought the farm,” or other euphemism for the inevitable hand of death, no memorial or funeral service is at all necessary. Wherever you happen to be. Open a bottle of bubbly or other favorite beverage and talk old times. If you wish, there are two favorite readings you can meditate on. The first is Shakespeare, of course, from THE TEMPEST, where Prospero tells Ferdinand (Act IV, Sc. i)

“These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”

The second meditative piece is from the writings of Bertrand Russell:

“An individual human existence should be like a river – small at first, narrowly confined within its banks, and rushing passionately past boulders and over waterfalls. Gradually the river grows wider, the bank recedes, and the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose their individual being. The man who, in old age, can see his life this way, will not suffer from the fear of death, since the things he cares for will continue.”

Hallelujah and salutations.

Praise And Amen

September 14, 2001

The Prayer Service today initiated by President Bush was an inspiration. It was unimportant that my particular theological nuances were not expressed. The service was majestic, thoughtful; and beautiful in music, people, color, symbolism.

In THE WINTER’S TALE (Act 1, Sc. l), Shakespeare has Archidamus say to Camillo,

“I speak as my understanding instructs me,
and as my honesty puts it to utterance.”

In the days and nights since the terrorist attacks of September 11, like millions of others, I was glued to the TV. There is much to be said and remembered about the grief, rage, the unstinting heroic actions of firemen and policemen, some of whom sacrificed their lives in the service of others; and the uniting of the people of our land. But for this Musing, I want to tell how that prayer service in the National Cathedral gave me a strong sense that our nation’s principles and people not only share a common heritage but also I glimpsed a future buoyed by hope. There is progress on the road to recognition of everyone as part of one world family.

First of all, I was deeply moved by the persons participating in the service.

The service was opened and closed by the Rev. Jean Holmes [Dixon] who is Bishop pro tempore of the National Cathedral. The opening scripture and prayer were delivered by the Rev. Nathan Baxter, Dean of the Cathedral, an Afro-American. Anyone in my age bracket must be astonished and heartened by these leaders of the Cathedral. In my early lifetime that a woman and an Afro-American should hold these important clergy posts would have been unbelievable. I praise the Episcopal Church for selecting leaders who, because of what they are, affirm the oneness of all our people.

The roster of other leaders of the service was equally inspirational. Not only what they said, but who they were:

A Moslem imam
A Jewish rabbi
An evangelical preacher, Billy Graham
A Roman Catholic Cardinal
[A] minister of the United Methodist Church, Houston, an Afro-American.

The service was deeply appropriate and truly ecumenical, and, dare I say it – universalist. I have not been a fan of President Bush, but in calling for this service, along with his plain but effective words in the service were uplifting in a week when the whole country was shocked and sorrowing. I will probably disagree and criticize him again, but in this traumatic week, he has demonstrated excellent presidential leadership.

Then too, in the service was the excellent children’s choir. Note the wording – not boys’ choir, but children’s choir, for were girls among their number. Furthermore, I have seldom heard a soprano as superb as the soloist – she was a beautiful Afro-American.

We are a nation of ALL of our people. That was the impact and message of this historic service.

In HENRY V (Act IV, Sc. iv), the King says to Gloucester:

“There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distill it out.”

Home Schooling – Positive? Negative?

August 29, 2001

A long article in the August 27 issue of TIME discusses the current trend to home schooling. According to the article, “there were at least 850,000 students learning at home in 1999.... Some experts believe the figure is actually twice that.” The basic cause seems to be that many parents are concerned about the quality of education in the public schools. About 25% of parents who adopt home schooling do so for religious reasons. Other reasons are given for home schooling, but the aforesaid seem to be the main ones.

Is this trend good or bad? Some statistics seem positive: “The average SAT score for home schoolers in 2000 was 1100 compared to 1019 for the general population.” Home schoolers also did much better on the Iowa Test for Basic Skills.

However, what cannot be known is if these high achievers would have done just as well in the public schools. The parents’ attention to their children’s educational needs was the strong factor. As the article points out, e.g., that only 3% of home-schooled fourth graders watched more than three hours of TV a day, vs. 38% of all fourth graders.

The public schools have no control over how many hours school children watch TV.

The public schools face many problems, most of them attributable to under-funding – crowded classrooms, teachers’ salaries, need to improve physical facilities. Under present laws, the fewer students in public schools, the less per-pupil funding. For example, “the state of Florida has 41,128 (1.7%) learning at home this year, up from 10,039 in the school year 1991-92; those kids represent a loss of nearly $130 million from school budgets in the state.” Furthermore with a large measure of school support coming from property taxes, the more parents doing home schooling, the more difficult it is to pass property taxes for school budgets.

However, the article also poses this question about home schooling: “Better at teaching them what? Home schooling may turn out better students, but does it create better citizens?”

I am still an advocate of public schools for public education. To lift a line I picked up reading a “Who dun it”, two questions need full, reasoned answers: “How To? What for?” Maybe home schooling can answer “How To” better for some pupils if the parents are skilled, thorough, and committed. But, “What For” is the parallel educational necessity. Not being a professional educator, my view of “What For” is best asserted by what the public schools meant for me.

The boys and girls, young men and young women I knew only because of the public schools represent warm, good memories which I never would have if I had been home-schooled.

In the elementary grades there was Woofie Simpson about whom I wrote in a prior Musing. I recall such a schoolroom event as exchanging valentines, leading to a childish “crush” on two girls, Hazel Parmenter and Lillian Snoen. Irma Tallmadge lived three houses down on Oliver Street, but her parents never permitted her to play with the other children on the street. So I would never have known her except for the public schools. Recess times in the schoolyard were good fun and healthy play unknown to home schoolers.

In the junior high and senior high school years, more friends and events: Bud Manion, who walked frequently with me the mile or so to high school, sometimes his sister, Virginia, with us. Myer Myerson, who with his parents, escaped Lenin’s Soviet Union crossing an ice-bound river to get away. “Swede” Larson, six foot four inches tall, strong and athletic, but didn’t like to participate in team sports. He was a skilled diver and swimmer. We went together to Fenway Park a couple of times. There were nice girls in high school with whom it was fun to talk and joke: Margaret Breaux, Ethel Diaz, Sadie Tomsky, Agnes Daly, Regina Kukowsky. Margaret Amot. (Protestant, Catholic, Jewish) Everett was a working class city, so we had names from every European country. We learned through personal experience, tolerance, acceptance, friendship. For this the public schools may be credited. Home schooling would never have provided me with these values and memories.

In Shakespeare’s RICHARD II (Act II, Sc. iii), Bolingbroke, later Henry IV, says after Harry Percy offers his services:

“I count myself in nothing else so happy
as in a soul remembering my good friends.”

The teachers were important in my growing years. In second grade, I remember Mrs. Sparrell (we called her Mrs. “Sparrow”), with tears streaming down her face, telling us on November 11, 1918, that the World War was over. This was one of my first impressions of what war really is and does. Then there was Miss Peabody in 6th grade, a martinet in some ways, telling us that if we had trouble understanding a paragraph, read it aloud paying particular attention to punctuation. In junior high, Mrs. Leach caught on that I was very near-sighted and had been hiding it for years because I didn’t want to be called “four eyes”, which was a common epithet for kids who wore glasses. As a matter of fact, I was not called “four eyes” when I then started wearing glasses, maybe because I was a husky fellow.

In high school, I have two particular memories. Miss Matilda Clement in sophomore English introduced me to Shakespeare, for which I am ever grateful. She also took the class to the first Shakespeare play I experienced – THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, staged by the Boston University players. When it seemed that I might not be allowed to graduate from high school because I did not have a required music credit, the Assistant Principal, Mike O’Neill, after hearing my story, waived the requirement. In the interview, I could sense that he became angry at the music teacher who was the cause.

How could I have had such experiences if I had been home-schooled? Once again, [I turn to] Shakespeare, who has Prospero say in THE TEMPEST (Act I, Sc. ii):

“thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can that have more time
For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.”

Then there is the documented matter of “Americanization.” In the large immigrant tide (1880-1920), the public schools made a tremendous successful effort to train the children of immigrants about our nation’s origin, its heritage, and the civics of government.

Thus, from my perspective, if you think the public schools fall short, correct the deficiencies. Make teachers’ salaries comparable. Women now have opportunities in science, business, industry, medicine which they never had when I was in school. Compete with that reality. I believe a large increase in public funding would provide the personnel and settings where more and more parents would choose the public schools. To my mind a much better use for large appropriations than a “missile defense system,” which probably wouldn’t work, but a gravy train for big dollar supporters of the Bush League.

Prayer

April 29, 2001
Sarasota

July 29, 2001
Port Charlotte

The Meaning of Prayer in Human Experience, updated from March 20, 1960, Akron

The first stimulus to this presentation occurred when there popped up on my computer screen a story about a father teaching his daughter Caitlin the Lord’s Prayer. She pronounced each word carefully. Coming to the end, she prayed, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us some E-Mail.”

What is the meaning of prayer in human experience?

If you become irritated to hear such words as prayer, Lord, [or] God, it is OK to tune me out. I have been reliably informed that sometimes a better sermon is heard when one tunes out the pulpit – that is, what one preaches to oneself However, some Scotsman, I do not know if it was David Hume, Thomas Carlyle, or my old friend and mentor, Angus MacLean, who once said that in times of much trouble or peril, even the atheist is permitted one wee prayer.

The second stimulus to this talk was an article in the Sarasota Herald Tribune on January 2, 2001, indicating that many older Americans use prayer to ward off stress. “According to the study, prayer is used more often than exercise, heat, relaxation techniques, humor, or herbal remedies to maintain overall health.” Another sentence from the article, “Seniors who prayed or used other spiritual treatment were also found to use more positive and self-reliant coping strategies.” Is that what prayer is, a ritual or spiritual sedative, Prozac for the mind? A coping mechanism?

The followers of an obscure religious sect in the Far East pray as they stare at their own reflections in a mirror. Is that what prayer is? The contemplation of one's own image?

When Albert Schweitzer was making his third voyage to Africa in 1929, a violent storm occurred while he was busily writing the last chapter of his book on Paul the Apostle. Because the ship pitched too violently for him to write at the little desk in his cabin, Schweitzer kept himself steady while writing by kneeling down with his writing board on the bunk, his feet wedged against the bulkhead. The steward happened to come in, and seeing him in this position said at once, “Oh its not quite as bad as that yet, sir.” Is this what prayer is, assuming the posture and saying the words of prayer when dangerous events seem to threaten our lives and welfare?

Let me repeat an anecdote I told in the LEAP class a few weeks ago. John Greenleaf Whittier once asked Ralph Waldo Emerson what he prayed for. “When I first open my eyes upon the morning meadows, and look out at the beautiful world, I thank God I am alive and that I live so near Boston.” Is that what prayer is, thanks for being alive and gratitude for being in a particular geographical location?

Prayer means so many things in human experience that perhaps case studies of some famous prayers may enable some greater grasp of the meaning of prayer. These prayers are not reported on a chronologically progressive basis, but rather we will ado a little moving back and forth historically.

There is a “show me” prayer, variously attributed to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Voltaire, Thomas Paine, and Rousseau:

“Oh God, if there be a God, save my soul, if I have a soul.”

St. Augustine in his earlier years could not control his erotic passions and could not live a celibate life. His notorious prayer: “Oh God, save me from sin, but not quite yet.”

Nearly two thousand years before that self-serving prayer, Moses experiencing depressing adversity, prayed in this wise, (Exodus 32/32):

“Alas this people has committed a great sin in that they have made a god of gold for themselves. But now, if thou wilt, forgive their sin; but if not, pray blot me out of thy book.”

About 80 years ago, the minister of the Universalist Church in Gloucester, Massachusetts, who, when requested to deliver the prayer at the inauguration ceremonies of the city government, spoke in so candid and unusual style that his prayer created a sensation state-wide, even nationwide. Dr. Levi Moore Powers, a minister of unusual courage, intellectual power and social passion prayed like this:

“We pray for the retiring mayor. He might have done better and he knows it and now we are sending him to the state house. Help him to be the representative he may be and ought to be.

“We pray for those who must guide our city in the coming year. There is Alderman Daniel Marshall. You know what a good fellow he is and how everybody likes him – the most popular man in town, though there are those who say he needs a stiffer backbone. If that is so, Lord, give him what he needs, and if it is a lie, help him to refute it.

“Then there is Alderman Johnson who needs thy help, Lord. This is a new job for him. But everybody speaks well of him and many who did not know him voted for him because those who know him best said he was all right. May he end this year with this good opinion confirmed and increased.

“Most of all we pray for him honored in being chosen mayor. But we have given him a hard job, Lord. You know very well that the laws of this city have not been well enforced. May he accept this responsibility and not only do his duty, but insist that all those responsible to him do their duty as well.

“Not alone for those we have chosen do we pray, Lord; we pray for ourselves. We confess, Lord, that we are a logy, grouchy set of citizens, most of us. We no sooner elect men to office than we find fault with them. Help us to see that good citizenship is an all-the-year job that cannot be delegated to others.

“We pray for the voters of this city; there are some too lazy to vote but not to lazy to grumble. Bless them. We pray for the citizens who want good streets, good schools, good fire and police protection and good health officers but who wish other people to pay their cost.

“We pray for the business men whose votes are always determined by the expectancy of special favors for themselves. Bless them, if you can. We pray for those who believe that all laws should be enforced except the laws which they do not like or which, if enforced would trouble them.

“We pray for the comfortable who do not care for anything so long as they are left at ease.

“We pray for the political managers who swap votes and sell out their friends and let bad candidates go unopposed.

“We pray for the ministers who say what it is pleasant to hear rather than what is true. We pray for all connected with the newspapers who openly advocate civic righteousness and secretly promote crooked politics.

“We pray for the lawyers who use their knowledge to help those who wish to evade the law and so enable themselves and others to get something for nothing.

“We wish, O God, that these people might be blessed, but perhaps we are asking too much. It may be that the only thing you can do is to let them go to hell.

“Increase our love and devotion to our city. May we be zealous of its good name and prosperity. May wealth, happiness, intelligence and character so increase that the proudest boast we can make shall be that we are men and women of this city. Amen.”

Father Joseph Manton, a Roman Catholic priest of the Redemptorist Order, was one of New England’s most skilled and eloquent preachers, with a radio program that not only his fellow Roman Catholics listened to, but also many others who admired his magnetic speaking skills. I listened whenever I was in the area.

About forty years ago on St. Patrick’s Day, Father Manton delivered the invocation at the breakfast honoring Robert Briscoe, then Lord Mayor of Dublin, Ireland. It was a rare occasion in Boston, when that city so strongly touched by Irish immigrants and even now, the country’s most typical Irish-American cultural area. The piquancy of that St. Patrick’s Day feast was increased by the wonderful fact that Lord Mayor Briscoe was Jewish.

Here are Father Manton's words at that St. Patrick’s festive occasion:

“Almighty God, our good and gracious Father, we find ourselves a bit bewildered this morning. You know that the first President of the Irish Republic was a Protestant; the present Lord Mayor of Dublin is a Jew; the news is going around that the Lakes of Killarney belong to a Yank; and historians keep whispering in our ears that St. Patrick was a Frenchman.

“Help us then this morning to hold high the brimming cup of hospitality to a good and great man and to greet him not as a stranger but as a treasured friend. And, dear God, stay the man up with monumental patience as he heroically endures a hundred toastmasters from here to the West Coast who will gaily imagine that the very fillings in their teeth are fragments of the Blarney Stone, as they ring all the obvious changes on a Jewish Mayor of Dublin. Help the poor man not to be banquet-weary of all these glib attempts to paint a green beard on Moses, or by the end he will be seeing little leprocohens.

“Deliver him, O Lord, this real Irishman who risked his life for the land he loved, from any professional Irishman (with an angle) – there are mercifully very few – but spare him even these; the sham shamrocks, the bogus bogtrotters, the synthetic Sinn Feiners, and especially the extravagant psycho-Patricks who love too loudly through a green haze an Ireland that never was.

“Finally, dear God, bless this man, our friends; and his meal, our food and today let the blessings come down generously even on the English muffins and the orange juice, so that, having broken our fast at the top of the mornin’ we may rise to thank You from the bottom of our hearts. Amen.”

From the indigenous tribes of this continent, whom the European invaders named, “Indians”, came this prayer, “Great Spirit, may I not judge my neighbor until I have walked a mile in his moccasins.”

Then there is a notable prayer uttered nearly 800 years ago by the man whom some have described as the only Christian since Christ, St. Francis of Assisi:

“O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; for it is giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.”

Then there is the 17th century Nun’s Prayer, found in a religious house in Gloucestershire, England:

“Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself, that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody’s affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

“Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others’ pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

“I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

“Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a Saint – some of them are so hard to live with – but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so. Amen”

In dealing with these prayers of human experience, there is no analysis of the origin and evolution of prayer. Prayer began with attempts at cosmic bribery as well as cosmic communion. Primitive persons thought God or the gods could be cajoled, bribed or persuaded. Many people today still believe that.

But these prayer examples, as widely different in attitude as in historical placement, deal with some of the meanings of prayer that can touch the sensitivities of our personal experience. No one who has experienced shattering tragedy or terrifying injustice can blame Job’s wife for her prayer of condemnation, “Curse God and die.” There are times when under the overwhelming burdens of events that seem utterly unjust, our prayers are neither thankful, interceding nor adoring. They are protests of indignation. This experience of anger against the cosmos is one of the meanings of prayer, too. It is a vehicle which asserts that the human being has rights of protest.

The prayer of Moses is another aspect of the experience of prayer. Moses had tried to lead his people in ways he believed good; he had tried to persuade them to the worship of Yahveh and to abandon idol worship. When he encountered their falling away from the high ideals and good practices, Moses’ prayer faced facts. Moses felt responsibility for those he was leading. He did not say, “O God I have not made an image like these sinful people.” He prayed, “forgive their sin or blot me out of thy book.” In such self-honesty and sharing of responsibility prayer exalts even moments of sorrow and disillusion.

When Levi Powers shocked and astonished those gathered at the Gloucester inaugural, he illustrated vividly prayer as an experience of social power. He did not pray for the prophets of Israel, but for the politicians of Gloucester; he did not quote the children of Israel about their sins, but bluntly prayed that Gloucester men and women in the 20th century would face up to the conditions of good citizenship. Prayer can be a relevant experience. Unless it is relevant, it is probably idle exercise. Whether in the meditations of solitude or the eloquence of public invocation, prayer as a meaningful experience must be relevant to the condition of the individual and the well-being of all.

hi the third act of Hamlet, Claudius has a brief soliloquy while waiting for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Two lines of that soliloquy apply:

“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below
words without thoughts, never to heaven go.”

Father Manton’s prayer at the breakfast for the Lord Mayor is an appealing example of another aspect of the prayer experience – graciousness. Prayer can illuminate the quality of our experience with words and ways that might be embarrassing in direct dialogue. Prayer helps us build bridges between our differences so that our encounters in human affairs are gentle and appreciative with a proper leaven of laughter.

What can we learn of the Native American’s prayer to the Great Spirit? Be careful in judging other people before you know what they have had to deal with.

A religious columnist reminded his readers that the prayer of St. Francis to console rather than be consoled, to love rather than be loved, is a marvelous example of movement from the passive to the active, “We love, we serve, we give.” It occurred to me last night, thinking back to Don’s fine sermon series on the meaning of life, that those six words aren't too shabby a definition of life: We love, we serve, we give. The older I get, the Nun’s Prayer speaks to me more and more directly. I believe it speaks to everyone who, for example draws a social security check. For sure, I need to heed the precepts and advice of that prayer.

A few years back, I was in someone’s house who kept a shelf of National Geographies. Pulling one out at random, I found an article about which I took extensive notes.

In former years a fishing fleet sailed annually from Portugal to the Grand Banks. During the season, the fishermen fished from dories; then worked back on the vessel slitting and salting the catch. Danger was commonplace and hard work the daily routine. On one of these voyages, Antonio Rodrigues Chaloa, a good doryman from Oporto, was separated from the vessel by the closing in of fog. When a gale came up, Antonio was blown far from the vessel. When five days passed, the captain and shipmates gave him up for lost – one more good man who had gone down to the sea in ships, never to return. Then on the fifth day, Antonio’s dory came into view. So exhausted was he that he had to be lifted from the dory to the vessel. An observer on the voyage asked Antonio about the long, lonely days and nights of danger, storm-tossed and fog-bound. “What did you do?” Antonio replied, “I prayed. I did what I could. Then I prayed and thought of my wife and seven children back in Portugal. The compass was out – that’s why the fog got me. Then during the storm, I anchored and rode to the wind, using my oars to keep the dory headed into it. Often I had to bail for my life when the heavy seas broke over. I was afraid, for my anchor line was only a piece of rope. If it broke, I would be drifted off the banks and out in the open straits. Then I knew I’d be finished.

“But the anchor rope didn’t carry away. I had to row plenty, to keep the dory headed to sea. I made a bit of shelter with the sail. I ate raw cod and I drank the fog moisture wrung out of my woolen cap.” That was all he said after rowing five days and four nights against a gale in order to keep a fourteen-foot dory headed to windward in waters of the Arctic Circle.

He prayed, but he kept the dory headed into the wind. Prayer must include the will to struggle as well as be thankful.

William Inge, Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, England (I believe he died in 1954), once said, “Prayer gives a man the opportunity to know a gentleman he hardly ever meets. I do not mean his Maker, but himself.”

Whether called prayer, meditation, inward determination to focus mind/emotion/ethic, or coming to terms with oneself, or seeing ourselves as we are contrasted to what we could be, whether or not addressed to a particular god or gods, the experience can be one of illumination, communion with the highest we know, a confident step toward mysteries never to be fully revealed and a confrontation of our human condition in all its grandeur and all its misery. It does not matter whether the experience occurs in church, in solitude on one’s knees, striding a busy street, celebrating a public occasion or working at some needed service. The experience will sharpen our consciousness of essentials, recall us to those vital things of most value to living and touch us with both the knowledge and the mystery of the great tides of life in which we are all engulfed.

Man Of The Millennium

April 23, 2001

On this date, 385 years ago in 1616, William Shakespeare died. He was 52 years old – a long life for that time.

In the 1000 year age recently closed (December 31, 2000), who but William Shakespeare can be named Man of the Millennium? I am aware that some would nominate Martin Luther or Gutenberg or Mozart or Michelangelo or Charles Darwin or Albert Einstein or whomever. But for me, William Shakespeare is the ONE.

His productivity was prodigious. From 1587 to 1613, 26 years, he wrote 36 plays and probably collaborated on 2 more, poems: The Sonnets, The Rape of Lucrece, The Phoenix and the Turtle. Furthermore, he was more than playwright and poet, he was producer, director, sometimes actor. Create, rehearse, perform, manage – his was genius with great energy and business know-how. He retired a wealthy man for his time.

But it was the quality of his genius which has endured. He had unique insight into the foibles, faults, hopes, deceits and glories of the human character. When we consider Hamlet, Lear, Richard III, Henry V, Falstaff, Brutus and a host of others, it shines through that he had an unsurpassed knowledge of the human self. One biographer, Anthony Holden, wrote, “...we do not read Shakespeare, he reads us.” No wonder, that every day, somewhere in the world, in some language, a book about William Shakespeare is published. “A rarer spirit never did steer humanity...” as the Bard of Avon himself has Agrippa comment about Antony. (Antony and Cleopatra, Act V, Sc. 1).

J. B. Priestley, in his study, LITERATURE AND WESTERN MAN, wrote, “If the day ever comes when Shakespeare is no longer acted, read and studied, quoted and loved, Western Man will be near his end.”

If you are one of those who might say, well, “Shakespeare has not influenced me”, a few years back on a PBS program, English journalist, Bernard Levin expressed it this way:

“If you cannot understand my argument, and declare ‘It’s Greek to me’, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you claim to be more sinned against than sinning, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you recall your salad days, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you act more in sorrow than in anger, if your wish is father to the thought, if your lost property has vanished into thin air, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you have refused to budge an inch or suffer from green-eyed jealousy, if you have played fast and loose, if you have been tongue-tied, a tower of strength, hoodwinked or in a pickle, if you have knitted your brows, made a virtue of necessity, insisted on fair play, slept not one wink, stood on ceremony, danced attendance (on your lord and master), laughed yourself into stitches, had short shrift, cold comfort or too much of a good thing, if you have seen better days or lived in a fool’s paradise – why, be that as it may, the more fool you, for it is a foregone conclusion that you are (as good luck would have it) quoting Shakespeare; if you think it is early days and clear out bag and baggage, if you think it is high time and that that is the long and short of it, if you believe the game is up and that truth will out even if it involves your own flesh and blood, if you lie low till the crack of doom because you suspect foul play, if you have your teeth set on edge (at one fell swoop) without rhyme or reason, then – to give the devil his due – if the truth were known (for surely you have a tongue in your head) you are quoting Shakespeare; even if you bid me good riddance and send me packing, if you wish I was dead as a door-nail, if you think I am an eyesore, a laughing stock, the devil incarnate, a stonyhearted villain, bloody-minded or a blinking idiot, then – by Jove! O Lord! Tut tut for goodness sake! What the dickens! But me no buts – it is all one to me, for you are quoting Shakespeare.”

Ben Jonson, Shakespeare’s contemporary, testified:

Soul of the Age!
The applause! Delight! The wonder of our stage!
My Shakespeare, rise! ...
He was not of an age, but for all time!

Unexpected Caring

April 16, 2001

One of the sentences in the “Nun’s Prayer,” found in the seventeenth century in a religious house in Gloucestershire, England, reads: “Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people, and give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.”

An historical example of this wisdom may be found in Pope Alexander VI (Roderigo Borgia, 1492-1503), the most notorious of the Borgia Popes. Among other acts, he ordered the burning at the stake of Savonarola, one of the precursors of the Reformation. Pope Alexander VI’s personal life seemingly knew no moral limits. He had many children, among whom were Cesare, who probably murdered his brother, Juan, and the infamous Lucrezia. Alexander VI kept his mistress, Giulia Farnese, in the Vatican, whose nephew became Pope Paul III, a half-century later.

According to some historians, Alexander VI staged orgies in the Vatican which were unlimited in lewdness, details of which are too shameful for me to recount.

Why in the world would he be an example of “talent in an unexpected person?”

In his book, CONSTANTINE’S SWORD, James Carroll documents the official role the Church played in the slaughters, discriminations, and contempt against Jews perpetrated through the Christian centuries. (Protestants need not feel smug, for the reformer, Martin Luther, was just as much a bigoted anti-Semite.)

Because the Inquisition in Spain expelled the Jews, as well as torturing them and seizing their wealth, large numbers of Iberian Jews sought help in the Papal States and Rome. Nine thousand is the estimated number.

Pope Alexander VI welcomed the Jewish refugees to Rome. He declared, “Jews are permitted to lead their lives free from interference from Christians, to continue in their own rites, to gain wealth and to enjoy many other privileges.” (Carroll, p. 364)

According to Carroll, there were at least twenty-three other Popes who took similar attitudes in spite of the anti-Semitism and contempt for Jewish people which was part of the theology and practice of the institutionalized Church all through Christian history.

Shakespeare had this same insight into finding some good in unexpected people. In ROMEO AND JULIET, Act II, Sc. 3, Friar Lawrence has a soliloquy which ends,

“Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
and vice sometimes by action dignified.”

The suggestion in the Nun’s Prayer that we have the grace to tell them, [but in this instance, we cannot.] Pope Alexander VI has been dead for almost five-hundred years. But he is a reminder that there may be some good in unexpected people, and the discerning eye and ear may find it.

Fair Trade?

March 7, 2001

A comprehensive biography, THE FIRST AMERICAN, The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin, is an excellent scholarly achievement. It is no exaggeration to classify Benjamin Franklin a genius. He can be accurately called printer, editor, entrepreneur, electrical engineer and inventor, oceanographer, scientist, philosopher, diplomat, agitator, ladies man, and one of the principal founders of our Republic.

At least one of his proposals indicates he was a master of satire, too. (Brands, p. 215/16)

Around the 1750s, Philadelphia had a higher crime rate than other colonial cities because under the Quaker influence, there were less punitive laws. Franklin and other citizens were much concerned about public safety. Franklin proposed safety measures and better methods for the constable system. But this attention to safe streets missed the problem’s roots: the proliferation of criminals. Since the 17th century, the American colonies had been forced to serve as a dumping ground for criminals convicted in England.

Protests to England were ignored.

[In 1751,] David Hall’s “Gazette” reported [of] murders, mutiny, mayhem. Hall editorialized, “Britain! Thou art called Mother Country; but what good mother ever sent thieves and villains to accompany her children; to corrupt them with their infectious vices....”

Benjamin Franklin was equally outraged, but admitted that there might be grounds for asserting that with a change of environment “their natures may possibly change if they were to change the climate.”

Franklin wrote (could he have been serious?) that a bounty be paid to persons who would collect rattlesnakes and transport them to England. “There I would propose to have them carefully distributed in St. James Park ... and other places of pleasure in London; in the gardens of the nobility...; but particularly in the gardens of the Prime Ministers, the Lords of Trade and members of Parliament....”

Franklin pointed out that the British government considered the transportation of felons to the Colonies a matter of trade. “Trade required returns.... Yet the trade in serpents would not be quite equal, for snakes posted fewer dangers than felons. The rattlesnake gives warning before he attempts mischief, which the convict does not.” (p.216)

Does Franklin’s satire have any useful application today?

Our prisons are overcrowded. We have more persons behind bars than all the European nations combined. Could we imitate the England of colonial days and ship many of our criminals to other countries?

For example, with all the crime, distress and trouble caused by the flood of cocaine coming from Colombia, could we not send at least a few hundred criminals there? A parachute drop? Wouldn’t that be a fair exchange of trade?

But such fantastic speculations have no reality and are of course unworkable. The Colonies had to deal as best they could with the felons transported here by England. Their descendants, at least, became part of the incremental progress and prosperity of the United States.

We will solve our problems, or not solve them, depending on our foresight, wisdom, and readiness to face problems both openly and realistically, and to develop the will to embrace bold solutions and act.

In Hamlet at the opening of Act IV, Sc. iii, Claudius reflecting on his plotting, has a short soliloquy as he awaits Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, saying among other lines,

“Diseases desperate grown
By desperate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all.”

(P. S.): I neglected to mention on page one that the author of this fine biography is H. W. Brands)

Roots Of Belief

February 23, 2001
updated from June 13, 1993

For four years of my life, I was a Unitarian. Two of those years I don’t remember, because it was in infancy until I was two years old. 47 years a Universalist, 39 years a Unitarian Universalist. When my parents moved from Boston to Everett, I was brought up in a Universalist Church. I taught Sunday School when still in high school. At the age of 16, I was Youth Sunday preacher to a large congregation who were most kind to my youthful and brash extravagance of expression. That Universalist Church was not only a shelter when I needed one, it was also a free forum where I could express radical ideas about religion without either being “put down” or leaving the church.

Shakespeare has Berowne say in LOVE’S LABOR’S LOST: “Young blood does not obey an old decree.”

In the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s, from that one Universalist Church, five young men entered our ministry: Owen Whitman Eames, Wallace Fiske, Frederic Harrison, Robert Sterling and a few years later, yours truly, as one of the so-called second “career” persons. (In the 1930s, one did not have a career. If lucky, one had a job.)

A few years later, while living in Whitman, a southeastern Massachusetts town and a member of a small, struggling Unitarian church, I was encouraged to prepare for the Universalist ministry by two Universalist students from Tufts Theological Seminary, Albert Zeigler and Fred Harrison. Fred was an old friend from Everett school and church days. Al became a life-long friend. I mourned their deaths.

Tufts was established by Universalists, but I went to St. Lawrence, also established by Universalists. I have been twice married – once in pre-consolidation terms to a Universalist, and once to a Unitarian.

How has Unitarian Universalism impacted on my life? What you see and hear is what you get.

But to add to that, one of the major ways that Unitarian Universalism has influenced me is that I learned to wrestle with the large questions of life: Who am I? What can I believe? What must I do? I have not always been on top. My shoulders have been pinned to the mat often enough. But I have tried and still try to deal with the Big Ideas. Even though I am now a Unitarian Universalist, in the following I will use the word Universalist, because as mentioned, most of my life has been in Universalist churches. It is also my way of reminding persons that the neglect of Universalist in many ways ignores (or snubs) half of our heritage. This pisses me off; and is a constant temptation to wave goodbye. But I never claimed to be an unemotional creature.

One of the ways I have learned to deal with the large questions could be condensed in the title of a pamphlet written by my friend, teacher and fellow Universalist minister, the late Angus Hector MacLean, distinguished professor of religious education at St. Lawrence University, “The Method is the Message.”

One of the most frequently asked questions of my life has been, “What do Universalists believe?” The theological origins of Universalism, that all souls would be saved; there was no Hell into which sinners were cast forever – this theological basis did not have much relevance in the 20th century, because most persons did not believe in Hell after death. There were sufficient hells on earths. Most of the mainline churches had stopped preaching fire and brimstone.

So I would answer something like this: Universalists do not believe alike in many ways. We differ. The proper question is: “How do Universalists arrive at their beliefs?” From where I stand, one can assume that a Universalist accepts the body of tested truths accumulated and continuously refined by the historian, the geologist, the astronomer, the physicist, social scientists, and practitioners of other authentic learned professions. The Universalist believes reason to be a guide and validates propositions through experience and experiment. The Universalist places freedom and the worth and dignity of all persons as the highest values. The Universalist still looks with hope on the nature and destiny of the human venture in spite of calamitous and cruel events. Theologies are NOT divine revelations. All theologies are interpretations of human experience. Always there are varying interpretations of human experience.

Sometime in the years 1926-29, my minister, Ulysses S. Milburn, placed in my hands an essay written by John Erskine, then a distinguished professor of literature at Columbia University. I have never entirely forgotten it. The title was “The Obligation to be Intelligent.” With provocative wit he wrote of the need to combine intelligence with other desirable qualities of living, using as a text, Kingsley’s line, “Be good sweet maid and let who will be clever.” Erskine criticized the all-too-common attitude that there is a division between goodness and intelligence. In Erskine’s words, “stupidity is regarded as first cousin to moral conduct and cleverness is the first step into mischief, that reason and Good are not on good terms with each other, that mind and heart are rival buckets in the well of truth, inexorably balanced, full mind, starved heart – stout heart, weak head.”

Years later, I found confirmation of Erskine’s thesis. The term “egghead” is not usually intended as a compliment. Adlai Stevenson was so named, not by his supporters, but by his opponents and critics.

Of course the intention of my Universalist minister was to impress on this teen-age rebel that the application of intelligence to religion is necessary. Can a religion for our time be anything but a thoughtful religion? Should not religion make sense? I may not be all that intelligent, but I try. At least I believe I have developed a “nonsense indicator” which works for me much of the time.

A Contrary Opinion

January 23, 2001

As “Super Bowl Sunday” nears, the Tampa TV stations are fully participating in the “hype” that leads up to this national event. “Panel Talk” of the Home Testing Institute prints this:

Super Bowl

“Over 800 million people in 188 countries across the world, including some 130 million in the U.S. will watch the Super Bowl on TV this January. Many of these people, however, will wish they were at the game instead. That's a big change from the first Super Bowl back in 1967. For that contest, only 61,946 people attended, leaving more than 30,000 seats empty in the Los Angeles Coliseum. Even more amazing is the fact that tickets to that game would have cost you a mere $6 - $12 dollars. The lowest face value on a ticket to last year’s game was $325. Advertising expenses have changed too. A 30-second commercial in 1967 cost $42,000, whereas last year, the same length commercial ran $2.2 million. The Super Bowl has grown in other ways as well. It is now the second largest day of food consumption in the U.S.”

Shakespeare has Trincolo say in THE TEMPEST, Act II, sc. ii,

“I do now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer.”

I no longer watch professional football on TV. The game has become ritualized old hat as far as I am concerned. (Now there is a real slander on The American Way of Life.) I am reading a most enlightening biography, THE FIRST AMERICAN – The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin, by H. W. Brands. To me, that is a more interesting way to spend Sunday evening, January 28. I am a heretic in many other ways, too.

But I wonder why the Super Bowl is the second largest day of food consumption in the U. S. Why must one eat up the deli plate, chow down the hot dogs, grab handfuls of Buffalo wings and gulp six-packs of beer because 22 men are kicking, passing, tackling, blocking, dancing on the TV? Sooner or later, some psychologist or sociologist will write an essay on that and maybe satisfy my curiosity.

The Talking Heads on the tube gloat in the 250 million dollar impact that the Super Bowl will have on the Tampa economy. OK, I can understand that. But in January of any year the hotel/motel/restaurants that the football fans are occupying in January 2001 would be filled by persons coming to the Gulf Coast of Florida for the warmth, sunshine, and beaches.

Maybe [the] Super Bowl is the modern replay of the Roman Saturnalia with all its excesses.

It’s About Time

January 1, 2001

As the new millennium begins (2000 was the last year of the prior millennium), some quotes on time:

Shakespeare has Jaques say (As You Like It, Act II, sc vii):

“And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And looking at it with lack-luster eye,
Says very wisely, ‘It is ten o’ clock.
Thus we may see,’ quoth he, ‘how the world wags
’Tis but an hour since it was nine,
And after one hour more, ’twill be eleven
And so from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.’ ”

The following timely quotations are drawn from the Commonplace Book, “American Scholar”, Autumn 1999:

“Time will bring to light whatever is hidden, and it will conceal and cover up what is now shining with greatest splendor.”
Horace, 5 B.C.

“I propose to define time as the social interpretation of reality with respect to the difference between past and future.”
Nicklas Luhman, 1976

“The long run is a misleading guide to our current affairs. In the long run we are all dead. Economists set themselves too easy, too useless a task, if in tempestuous seasons they can only tell us that when the storm is long past the ocean is flat again.
John Maynard Keynes, 1923

“For new nobility is but the act of power; but ancient nobility is the act of time.”
Francis Bacon, 1597

“Oh, yes, I’d do it all again; the spirit is willing yet; I feel the same desire to do the work but the flesh is weak. It’s too bad that our bodies wear out while our interests are just as strong as ever.”
Susan B. Anthony, on her deathbed, 1906.

And to conclude with a famous line from the Bard of Avon, when Macbeth says:

“Come what come may.
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.”

Introduction To Musings XII

November – December 1991

Holiday Greetings To You And Yours

This twelfth year of Musings has been eventful. The high point of the year was my family celebrating my 90th birthday.

There were several downturns in health this year, but the skills and care of the internist, cardiologist, surgeon, and nurses were positive counter-measures. I am a very lucky fellow.

In spite of the turbulent and dangerous dawning of the 21st century, marinate your holidays and all your days with hope, love, warmth. In your thoughts and prayers remember those whose lives have been torn apart and devastated by terrorism, bombs, and dread of the future. My faith is still that while the human venture suffers much, it still will prevail.

Bless you all,
Carl

How My Affiliation With Unitarian Universalism Has Impacted My Life

June 13, 1993
Location Unspecified

Dorothy asked me to take 15 minutes to describe how Unitarian Universalism has impacted my life. Can’t be done – to do that subject justice, I would have to write a book. But I’ll try to give you at least some notion.

For four years of my life I was a Unitarian; 47 years as a Universalist; 32 years as a Unitarian Universalist. I was brought up in a Universalist church; taught Sunday school while still in high school; at age of 16 I was Youth Sunday preacher to a large congregation who were most kind to my youthful and brash extravagance of rhetoric. You see, that Universalist church was not only a shelter when I needed it; it was also a free forum where I could express radical ideas about religion without any necessity of leaving the church or being put down. In the 1920s to early 30s, that one Universalist church had five young men enter the ministry – Owen Whitman Eames, Wallace Fiske, Frederic Harrison, Robert Sterling, and a few years later, yours truly as one of the so-called “second career” people. Years later, while living in a southeastern Massachusetts town, I was recruited for the Universalist ministry by two students from Tufts Theological Seminary (Tufts was established by Universalists), but I went to St. Lawrence (also established by Universalists). I have been twice married; once (in pre-consolidation terms) to a Universalist and once to a Unitarian.

[CJW notes: There was an active youth group – which related to county; 200 turnout at monthly meeting; Potter; my one and only stay ... “the Valiant”; Fred & Al; CHM – Theol Dist Pres n Exec; I rebelled against the central authority of the UUA]

How has Unitarian Universalism impacted my life? What you see (and hear) is what you get. [CJW note: tear-jerker ballad - “You Made Me What I Am”]

But to add to that, one of the major ways that Unitarian Universalism has influenced me is that I learned to wrestle with the large questions of life: Who am I? What can I believe? What must I do? I was not always on top; my shoulders have been pinned to the mat often enough. But I have tried and still try to deal with the big ideas. Even though I am now a Unitarian Universalist, in the following remarks I will use the word Universalist, because, as mentioned, most of my life has been in Universalist churches. It is also my way of reminding persons that the neglect of Universalism, in many ways, ignoring half our heritage, pisses me off and is a constant temptation to wave goodbye. But I never claimed to be an unemotional creature. [CJW notes: ident. conv.; is a dis to a great heritage]

One of the ways I have learned to deal with the large questions could be condensed in the title of a pamphlet written by my friend, teacher, and fellow Universalist, the late Angus Hector MacLean, distinguished professor of religious education at St. Lawrence: “The Method is the Message.”

One of the most frequently asked questions of my life has been, “What do Universalists Believe?: The theological origins of Universalism – that all souls would be saved; there was no Hell into which sinners were cast forever – this theological basis did not have much relevance in the 20th century, because persons did not believe in Hell after death (there were sufficient hells on earth). [CJW notes: before ... television; the fund of ... small churches stopped preaching]

So, I would answer something like this: Universalists do not believe alike; in many ways we differ. The proper question is “How do Universalists arrive at their beliefs?” From where I stand, one can assume that a Universalist accepts the body of tested truth accumulated and continuously refined by the historian, the geologist, biologist, astronomer, physicist, social scientist, and practitioners of other authentic learned professions. The Universalist believes reason to be a guide, and validates propositions through experience and experiment. The Universalist places freedom and the worth and dignity of all persons as the highest values. The Universalist still looks with hope on the nature and destiny of the human venture, in spite of calamitous and cruel events.

[CJW note: all theologies to be an interpretation of experience, not a divine revelation]

Sometime about 1926-29, my minister, ... Milburn, placed in my hands an essay written by Professor John Erskine, then a distinguished professor of literature at Columbia University. I have never entirely forgotten it – the title was, “The Moral Obligation to be Intelligent.” With provocative wit he wrote of the need to combine intelligence with other desirable qualities of life using as a text Kingsley’s lines, “Be good sweet maid and let who will be clever.” Erskine criticized the all-too-common attitude that there is division between goodness and intelligence. In Erskine’s words, “stupidity is regarded as first cousin to moral conduct and cleverness the first step into mischief, that reason and God are not on good terms with each other; that mind and heart are rival buckets in the well of truth, inexorably balanced, full mind, starved heart – stout heart, weak head.” [CJW note: This attitude prevails; egg-head, ivory-tower; liberals = minions of Satan]

Of course the intention of my Universalist minister was to impress on this teen-age rebel that the application of intelligence to religion is necessary. Can a religion for our time be anything but a thoughtful religion? Should not religion make sense? I may not be all that intelligent, but I try. Erskine was right – at least I think I have developed a “Nonsense Indicator” which works at least some of the time. Speaking of time – mine is up!

The Meaning of Prayer in Human Experience

March 20, 1960
Akron

The Meaning of Prayer in Human Experience

What is the meaning of prayer in human experience? The followers of an obscure religious sect in the Far East pray as they stare at their own reflections in a mirror. Is this what prayer is, the worship of one’s own ego? When Albert Schweitzer was making his third voyage to Africa in 1929, a violent storm occurred while he was busily writing the last chapter of his book on Paul the Apostle. Because the ship pitched too violently for him to write at the little desk in his cabin, Schweitzer kept himself steady while writing by kneeling down with his writing board on his bunk, his feed wedged against the cabin wall. The steward happened to come in, and seeing him in this posture, said at once, “Oh, it’s not quite as bad as that yet, sir.” Is this what prayer is, assuming the posture and saying the words of prayer when dangerous events seem to threaten our lives or welfare?

Prayer means so many things in human experience that perhaps case studies of some famous prayers from both ancient and modern times may enable us to secure some greater apprehension of the meaning of prayer. These prayers are not reported on a chronologically progressive basis, but rather we will do a little moving back and forth historically.

There is a “show-me” prayer, variously attributed to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Voltaire, Paine and Rousseau:

“Oh God, if there be a god, save my soul, if I have a soul.”

Nearly three thousand years before that prayer of theological sophistication, Moses, experiencing depressing adversity, prayed (Exodus 32/32):

“Alas, this people has committed a great sin in that they have made a god of gold for themselves. But now if thou wilt, forgive their sin; but if not, pray blot me out of their book.”

Robert Sherwood in his great drama, “Abe Lincoln in Illinois,” re-created a prayer voiced by Lincoln on the prairie at the bedside of a sick child:

“O God, the father of all living, I ask you to look with gentle mercy upon this little boy who is here, lying sick in this covered wagon. His people are traveling far, to seek a new home in the wilderness, to do your work – work, God, to make this earth a good place for your children to live in. They can clearly see where they’re going, and they’re not afraid to face all the perils that lie along the way. I humbly beg you not to take their child from them. Grant him the freedom of life. Do not condemn him to the imprisonment of death. Do not deny him his birthright. Let him know the sight of great plains and high mountains, of green valleys and wide rivers. For this little boy is an American and these things belong to him and he to them. Spare him, that he too may strive for the ideal for which his fathers have labored, so faithfully and for so long. Spare him and give him his father’s strength – and give us all strength, O God, to do the work that is before us. I ask you this favor, in the name of your son, Jesus Christ, who died upon the cross to set men free. Amen.”

More than forty years ago, the minister of the Universalist Church in Gloucester, Massachusetts, who, when required to deliver prayer at the inauguration exercises of the city government, spoke in so candid and unusual a style that his prayer created a sensation. Dr. Levi Powers, a minister of unusual courage, intellectual power and social passion, prayed like this:

"WE PRAY for the retiring mayor. He might have done better and he knows it and now we are sending him to the state house. Help him to be the representative he may be and ought to be.

WE PRAY for those who must guide our city in the coming year. There is Alderman Daniel Marshall. You know what a good fellow he is and how everybody likes him - the most popular man in town, though there are some who say he needs a stiffer backbone. If that is so, Lord, give him what he needs, and if it is a lie, help him to refute it.

THEN THERE IS Alderman Johnson who needs thy help, Lord. This is a new job for him. But everybody speaks well of him, and many who did not know him voted for him because those who know him best said he was all right. May he end this year with this good opinion confirmed and increased.

MOST OF ALL we pray for him honored in being chosen mayor. But we have given him a hard job, Lord. You know very well that the laws of this city have not been well-enforced. May he accept this responsibility and not only do his duty, but insist that all those responsible to him do their duty as well.

NOT ALONE for those we have chosen do we pray, Lord; we pray for ourselves. We confess, Lord, that we are a logy, grouchy set of citizens, most of us. We no sooner elect men to office than we find fault with them. Help us to see that good citizenship is an all-the-year job that cannot be delegated to others,

WE PRAY for the voters of this city; there are some too lazy to vote but not too lazy to grumble. Bless them. We pray for the citizens who want good streets, good schools, good fire and police protection and good health officers but who wish other people to pay their cost.

WE PRAY for the business men whose votes are always determined by the expectancy of special favors for themselves. Bless them, if you can. We pray for those who believe that all laws should be enforced except the laws which they do not like or which, if enforced, would trouble them.

WE PRAY for the comfortable who do not care for anything so long as they are left at ease.

WE PRAY for political managers who swap votes and sell out their friends and let their bad candidates go unopposed.

WE PRAY for the ministers who say what it is pleasant to hear rather than what is true. We pray for all connected with the newspapers who openly advocate civic righteousness and secretly promote crooked policies,

WE PRAY for the lawyers who use their knowledge to help those who wish to evade the law and so enable themselves and others to get something for nothing.

WE WISH, O God, that these people might be blessed, but perhaps we are asking too much. It may be that the only thing you can do is to let them go to hell.

INCREASE our love and devotion to our city. May we be zealous of its good name and prosperity. May wealth, happiness, intelligence and character so increase that the proudest boast we can make shall be that we are men and women of this city. Amen."

The occurrence of St. Patrick’s Day last Thursday is a reminder that within quite recent years, Father Joseph Manton, a Redemptorist Priest who is one of New England’s most skilled and eloquent radio preachers, delivered the invocation at the breakfast honoring Robert Briscoe, then Lord Mayor of Dublin. It was a rare occasion in Boston, when this city, so strongly touched by Irish immigrants and even now perhaps America’s most typically Irish-American cultural area, greeted the Lord Mayor of Dublin. The piquancy of the occasion was increased by the wonderful fact that the Lord Mayor Briscoe was a Jew.

This was Father Manton’s prayer:

“Almighty God, our good and gracious father, we find ourselves a bit bewildered this morning. You know that the first President of the Irish Republic was a Protestant; the present Lord Mayor of Dublin is a Jew; the news is going around that the lakes of Killarney belong to a Yank; and historians keep whispering in our ears that St. Patrick was a Frenchman.

“Help us then this morning to hold high the brimming cup of hospitality to a good and great man and to greet him not as a stranger, but a treasured friend. And dear God, stay the man up with monumental patience as he heroically endures a hundred toastmasters from here to the West Coast who will gaily imagine that the very fillings in their teeth are fragments of the Blarney Stone, as they ring all the obvious changes on a Jewish Mayor of Dublin. Help the poor man not to be banquet-weary of all these glib attempts to paint a green beard on Moses, or by the end he will be seeing little Leprecohens.

“Deliver him, O Lord, this real Irishman who risked his life for the land he loved, from any professional Irishman (with an angle) – these are mercifully very few – but spare him even these; the sham shamrocks, the bogus hogtrotters, the synthetic Sinn Feiners, and especially the extravagant psycho-Patricks who love too loudly through a green haze an Ireland that never was.

“Finally, dear God, bless this man, our friends; and his mean, our food and today let the blessings come down generously even on the English muffins and the orange juice, so that, having broken our fast at the top of the mornin’, we may rise to thank You from the bottom of our hearts. Amen.”

A final example of a notable prayer was uttered more than 750 years ago by the man whom many have described as “the only Christian since Christ,” St. Francis of Assisi:

“O Divine Master, grand that I may not so much to seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.”

In dealing with these prayers of human experience, there is no analysis of the origins and evolution of prayer. Prayers began with attempts at cosmic bribery, as well as cosmic communion. The primitive thought God could be cajoled, bribed or persuaded. But such motives should have no role in our kind of world.

But these prayer examples, as widely different in attitude as in historical placement, deal with some of the meanings of prayer that can touch the sensitivities of our personal experience. No one who has experienced shattering tragedy or terrifying injustice can blame Job’s wife for her prayer of condemnation, “Curse God and die.” there are times when under the overwhelming burden of events that seem utterly unjust, our prayers are neither thankful, interceding, nor adoring. they are protests of righteous indignation. This experience of anger against the cosmos is one of the meanings of prayer, too. It is a vehicle which asserts that the human soul has rights of protest.

The prayer of Moses is another aspect of the experience of prayer. Moses had tried to lead his people in ways he believed good; he had tried to persuade them to the worship of Yahveh and to abandon idol worship. When he encountered their falling away from the high ideals and good practice, Moses’ prayer faced facts. Moses felt responsibility for those he was leading. He did not say, “O God I have not made an image unto thee, like these sinful people.” He prayed, “forgive their sin or blot me out of thy book.” In such self-honesty and sharing of responsibility, prayer exalts even moments of sorrow and despair.

Robert Sherwood’s beautiful Lincoln prayer illustrated another poignant aspect of the meaning of prayer in human experience. Those who have known the sorrow of those pioneer parents can participate in Lincoln’s passionate petition. In a new, adventurous, beautiful country of fertile plains, who can not pray that the boy will grow strong and wise in a country challenging humans to the utmost of their skills and resources? Life is so fine. Yet that prayer of petition concludes with acceptance and resolution, “Give us all strength, O God, to do the work that is before us.” Prayer means acceptance.

When Levi Powers astounded and shocked those gathered at the Gloucester inaugural, he illustrated vividly prayer as an experience of social power. He did not pray for the Prophets of Israel, but for the politicians of Gloucester; he did not confront the children of Israel with their sins, but bluntly prayed that Gloucester men and women in the 20th century would face up to the conditions of good citizenship. Prayer can be a relevant experience. Unless it is relevant, it is probably idle exercise. Whether in the meditation of solitude or the eloquence of public invocation, prayer as a meaningful experience must be relevant to the condition of the individual and the well-being of all.

Father Manton’s prayer at the breakfast for the Lord Mayor is an appealing example of another aspect of the prayer experience – graciousness. Prayer can illuminate the quality of our experience with words and ways that might be embarrassing in direct dialogue. Prayer helps us build bridges between our differences so that our encounters in human affairs are gentle and appreciative, with a proper leaven of laughter.

Halford Luccock reminded his readers that the prayer of St. Francis to console rather than be consoled, to love rather than be loved, is a marvelous example of movement from the passive to the active, “We love, we serve, we give.”

A fishing fleet sails annually from Portugal to the Grand Bank. During the season, the fishermen fish from dories; then work back on the vessel slitting and salting the catch. Danger is commonplace and hard work daily fare. One of these expeditions, Antonio Rodrigues Chaloa, a good doryman from Oporto, was separated from the vessel by the closing in of fog. When a gale blew up Antonio was blown far from the vessel. When five days passed, the captain and the shipmates gave him up for lost – one more good man who had gone down to the sea in ships never to return. Then on the fifth day, Antonio’s dory came into view. So exhausted was he that he had to be lifted from the dory to the vessel, but he was smiling and after rest was fishing again that same day. An observer on the voyage asked Antonio about those long, lonely days and nights of danger, storm-tossed and fog-bound. “What did you do?” Antonio replied, “I prayed. I did what I could. Then I prayed and I thought of my wife and seven children back in Portugal. The compass was out – that’s why the fog got me. Then during the storm, I anchored and rode to the wind, using my oars to keep the dory headed into it. Often I had to bail for my life when the heavy seas broke aboard. I was afraid, for my anchor line was only a piece of rope. If it broke, I would be drifted off the banks and out into the open straits. Then I knew I’d be finished.”

“But the anchor rope didn’t carry away. I had to row plenty, to keep the dory headed to sea. I made a bit of shelter with the sail. I ate raw cod and drank the fog moisture wrung out of my woolen cap.” That was all he said after rowing five days and four nights against a gale in order to keep a fourteen foot dory headed to windward in waters beyond the Arctic Circle.

He prayed; but he kept the dory headed into the wind. Prayer must include the willingness to struggle as well as to be thankful.

Whether called meditation, prayer, inward determination, coming to terms with oneself, or seeing ourselves as we really are and as we should be – prayer is an experience of illumination, communion with the highest we know, a confident step toward mysteries never to be revealed and a confrontation of our human condition in all its grandeur and all its misery. It does not matter whether the experience occurs in solitude on one’s knees, striding a busy street or working at some needed service. The experience of honest prayer will sharpen our consciousness of essentials, recall us to those vital things of most value to living and touch us with both the knowledge and the mystery of the great tides of life of which we are a part.

The Reformer: Martin Luther

October 26, 1958
Akron
Also: Rochester 10/29/61, Revised 10/25/64

The Reformer: Martin Luther – Saint, Sinner, Savage

This is Reformation Sunday, marking the birthday of the Protestant Church. Next Friday marks the four hundredth and thirty first anniversary of the day Martin Luther tacked the 95 theses to the door of Wittenburg Cathedral. The political, economic, social and religious effects of the Protestant Reformation is one of the important changes in the history of the Western World. Marking the historic significance of this day, I would like to discuss the leading person of the Reformation, Martin Luther, and contrast him with Thomas .... Luther is one of the most controversial persons in history. He was a saint, a sinner and savage (or vulgarian or bigot), depending upon the point of view from which he is seen. His followers hailed him as a true prophet of the Lord. Roman Catholics called him a child of the devil and accused him of demolishing Christianity. The agrarian reformers of that turbulent sixteenth century said he was the toady and supporter of the feudal lords and princes. Religious radicals, Carlstadt and Muenster, for example, compared him to Moses who led the way out of Egypt, but then deserted his followers, leaving them to perish in the wilderness. Those who have looked at his personal life with critical eye have sometimes thought him to be a corrupt, coarse, vulgar libertine who broke with Roman Catholic tradition so that he might marry a nun and rear children in sin and vulgarity The critics submit Luther’s own TABLE TALK as evidence of his degraded personality.

This we know, the history of the world was altered because Martin Luther lived. In abolishing the authority of the Pope, Martin Luther established the freedom of the Christian. When this principle became established, the administration of the life of the religious institution became the responsibility of the parish – a congregation of laypeople. Martin Luther did not anticipate, and actually opposed many of the consequences of the Reformation he spearheaded. The principle of the authority of the lay congregation had extreme political revolutionary effects. The self-administration of religion pointed the way to and established a principle for worldly self-government as well. Therefore, it is of particular importance to the liberal groups, whose guiding principle of freedom is most uninhibited, to understand Martin Luther. ... this sermon divides into 1) The Setting, 2) The Augustinian Priest, 3) The Reformer and Supporter of Princes, and 4) The Man, Martin Luther.

Although Martin Luther was not born when the Reformation began, he is the great reformer. To know the Reformation we must understand that the Renaissance, the revival of Learning, had been in progress for at least two centuries. In the 13th century, Petrarch and Boccaccio had notable advanced the humanist studies. The Medici family, also of Florence, had been the greatest patrons of art, sculpture, literature and philosophy that the world had ever known, and under their sponsorship, Da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Mirandola, Raphael and others had created wonders of art and letters that still summon our wonder at their imaginative, skillful genius. In 1453 the world’s greatest cultural center, Constantinople, had fallen to the Turks and the scholars of Greek learning who had preserved the manuscripts and art objects of Hellenism fled to Italy and other parts of Europe. [note in margin: “12 universities, Germany, 1409 – 1506]

Not only did the Renaissance signal the revival of arts and learning, but a most significant political movement was beginning to make its strong eddies felt in the ebb and flow of the Holy Roman Empire. Although Germany had lagged somewhat, England, France and Spain had assumed form as independent nations. The masses had no share in political rewards or freedoms, although they were the objects of the most severe hardships and cruel sufferings. Their ... order was serfdom.

The Roman Catholic was the authoritarian church. There was no toleration of revolt, but the seeds that were to bear fruit in Luther’s time had been sown. John Wyclif of England, opposed to the wealth of the church and clerical interference in all areas of life, believed that the Bible should be the possession of the people and had translated the scriptures into English. Wyclif was executed, his ashes scattered on Thames, but neither his convictions nor his bravery were forgotten. In 1373 [was the birth of] John Hus, a Bohemian priest who became influenced by Wyclif’s teaching, and preached an evangelical doctrine which was anathema to the Roman Catholic Church. John Hus avowed that the true head of the church was Christ, not the Pope. The unprincipled Church gave him safe conduct to the Council of Constance, but broke faith and burned him at the stake July 6, 1415, but neither was his memory forgotten, nor his principles rejected, by his followers. In 1498 the austere monk of Florence, Savonarola denounced the Pope, and after a succession of first temporary triumph and then humiliating defeat was burned at the stake. But even as the smoke and smell from the burning flesh and faggots were dispersed to the winds, so the knowledge of his revolt against Rome became widely perceived to other reformers, including Martin Luther, who was but a fifteen year old student when Savonarola was executed.

Something else had happened which was to make the world different than it had ever been before. Printing had been invented, the peoples of the world would not only become more literate, but the printed word was to bring them the wisdom of scripture in their own language, and the protesting pamphlets of the reformers.

In this seething cauldron of social change, a baby boy was born to a peasant miner, Hans Luther and his wife Marguerite, in 1483. November 10 was St. Martin’s Day, and the little child was named Martin after the patron saint. Although like so many of the world’s great, Martin’s parents were peasant stock, Hans Luther not content to accept poverty and misery of the miner’s lot, and by individual effort sought to make his lot better and his family more comfortable and privileged. In these beginning times of individualism, his efforts brought some reward, as Martin was enabled to go to school and university, to be prepared for the practice of law, which was his father’s wish for his eldest son.

The schools of that day were organized, administered and taught by the Church and its various orders. Thus, Martin’s early schooling was directed by the Brethren of the Common Life, an order dedicated to education. Then, in the university he was influenced by the Augustinian order. Under the strong influences of the monks, together with his personality which was unusually sensitive to supernaturalism and, along with his fine mind which was capable of wrestling with intricacies of language, philosophy and theology, Martin Luther found his hopes turning toward the Church and away from the law. Although Hans Luther was deeply religious, his wish that Martin be a doctor of the law was so strong that when Martin announced that he was to be an Augustinian monk, his father was deeply hurt and years were to pass before he really forgave the son who was frustrating the parent’s deepest wish. This revolt against his father’s authority, acceptance of church authority, ....

After a farewell party, Martin’s friends escorted him to the Augustinian cloister at Erfurt on the 17th of July 1505 and he entered its gates there to endure the privation of the order and to know the religious joy of humbling his passions, following the tedious routine of prayers and study, eventually when ordained to know the joy of celebrating the mass in which the wafer and wine became the body and blood of Christ.

As a monk, Martin Luther was conscientious to a degree we would think to be unnatural. He fasted for days at a time, went night after night without sleep so that he might devote himself to prayer unceasingly (and in so doing permanently injured his health). He whipped himself to subdue the desires of the flesh. Although he was a model of holiness to his brother monks, his personal anxiety increased. He became increasingly morbid. Luther, a child of his times, feared the devil and believed the arts of witchcraft could have a dreadful effect on him. The iron discipline of the Augustinian cloister had the natural effect of subduing his outward expressions of feeling and intensifying the inward fires of human passions.

Following his ordination as a priest, he turned to teaching at the University and soon became a most popular teacher, His large following of students was drawn for several reasons. His peasant inheritance gave him the common touch, and his plain talk and natural illustration reached the core of matters. [He was less bound to narrow conventions and traditional formulas monks of more aristocratic stock.] Following his master’s degree he earned a doctor of theology, a rare scholastic honor in those days.

His talents and drive soon won greater recognition. When only 31 years old in 1515, he was appointed District-vicar of the Augustinian order. Thus in addition to his devotional duties as a monk, his university responsibilities as a teacher of philosophy, he had additional responsibility of [acting as superintendent] to the ten Augustinian monasteries in his district.

This devout Augustinian monk was obsessed not only with neurotic fears for his salvation, but also he was upset by dishonesty and corruption readily discovered in the Church of that day which was dominated by the Renaissance Popes, who had a high degree of sensitivity to artistic beauty and an insensitive attitude toward personal and organizational corruption.

Thus what Martin Luther had hopes would be a high experience of his life resulted in considerable disillusion. He and another Augustinian made a pilgrimage to Rome. There he could not escape noticing the corruption, hypocrisy and political knavery of the hierarchy. Rome, like all great capitals of that day, was dirt-infested, priest-ridden, and morally soft. The irreverence of the priesthood shocked this simple, devout German peasant priest. It is said that while climbing the sacred stairs, that Paul’s words to the Romans fixed themselves in his brain, “the just shall live by faith,” and he realized that acts of piety, like climbing stairs on his knees, were of little effect. But it is part of that growing spirit of rebellion which some have named the Reformation.

How much the extent of his Roman visit influenced his revolt, we do not know. Perhaps it was but a small but significant episode in his long life.

The real spark of the Reformation was ignited when the Roman hierarchy decided that in order to build magnificent St. Peter’s Cathedral, much money had to be raised. So the sale of indulgences was authorized. The doctrine was that by their purity the saints had built up a bank account (so to speak) of piety, on which the sinful could draw to lessen their years in purgatory. So Tetzel, a monk went through the countryside urging peasants to buy indulgences so that their dead relatives might be released from purgatory sooner. It is said that Pope Leo X, who was the son of Lorenzo Medici, said cynically about the response of the pious peasants, “This story of Jesus has helped us a lot.”

On Oct. 31, 1517, Martin Luther tacked a manuscript to the door of Wittenburg Cathedral. 95 propositions for debate were listed. Luther questioned the indulgences with a series of logical propositions, the most telling of which proposed that if the Pope had the power to release soul from purgatory, then he should do so at once, not for money, but out of the spirit of love and charity. Although years were to elapse between the nailing of the theses to the door of Wittenburg Cathedral and the actual formation of the Reformed Church, that date is historically looked upon as the birthday of Protestantism. Luther’s theses were formal but his vernacular comment was “God will not tolerate this flea market!”

News of the opposition of this Augustinian monk to the plans of the hierarchy soon reached Rome and action followed. Luther refused to recant, he had a notable debate with John Eck and undoubtedly would have been executed as a heretic except for one historical tide. Nationalism was dawning, and the feudal lords and princes of Germany were very much opposed to the Roman Church drawing off large sums of money from the homeland for St. Peter’s, or any other foreign enterprise.

Luther began to write, and his pamphlets pointed unquestionable to a strong difference with the principles of the hierarchical church. He proposed the priesthood of all believers and that there were only two sacraments authorized by scripture, baptism and the Lord’s Supper. These were heretical opinions, unquestionably. Luther was excommunicated, and would have been seized, except Frederick, elector of Saxony had him spirited away to Wartburg Castle. But the printing press was pounding out Luther’s writings and they were widely distributed, and the people responded. When Luther emerged from Wartburg, he found himself organizing a Reformed Church.

Then occupied one of the most puzzling aspects of Luther’s strange character. The impetus to religious freedom had other consequences. The peasants revolted against their landlords and princes. It was natural but unexpected that they should seek to throw off political and economic oppression when the way to religious freedom had been pointed out. Historically we know that this is one of the glories of religious freedom – other benefits to mankind are the natural consequence. But Luther proved to be the toady and supporter of the princes. Neither the implications of religious freedom, nor love for the peasant people from which he sprang mitigated the severity of his condemnation of the Peasant’s Revolt. To the aristocratic Lords and Princes, Luther offered these words of encouragement, “Hearken Dear Lords .... Let him who can stab, strike and strangle .... These are such strange times that a prince can go to heaven more easily by spilling blood than other through prayer.”

The peasants were crushed, murdered, tortured, starved.

Luther was not a tolerant man. Even admitting that like all persons, he was a child of his own age, we find it difficult to reconcile this devout man who professed the Lordship of the gentle Christ with the Luther who was savage in his bigoted hatred of the Jews, and unremitting in his urgings to destroy and persecute them.

Luther could not get along with other reformers. He refused to shake hands with Zwingli because the latter would not accept Luther’s interpretation of the Lord’s Supper.

But this person, Martin Luther, was not only an Augustinian priest, a reformer of strange and devious as well as noble ways, he also was a man.

When the Reformers were celebrating freedom from the Roman Catholic Church, the monasteries and convents were opened, the monks and nuns sought marriage and Christian homes, sometimes marrying each other. Catherine Von Bora was a nun who was jilted by a suitor shortly after her release from the convent. Martin Luther sought to be a marriage broker to her and find a suitable husband. However, when it was reported to him that Catherine Von Bora would marry only Dr. Amadorf or Dr. Luther, he investigated further, with the result that shortly after, the ex-priest Martin Luther and the ex-nun Catherine Von Bora were married and established their home in the Augustinian cloister in Wittenburg where formerly Luther had lived the monastic life. [note in margin: A news release Oct ’64 – their wedding ring had been found in an E. Berlin home]

Theirs was a busy home. Not only were six children born to them, but also they were hospitable and generous to the homeless; at one time, not less than eleven orphans shared their home and table. The reminisces of this home life are found in Martin Luther’s TABLE TALK, remarkable for the insight it gives into the personality of this father. he was gentle, but at times objectionably vulgar and rude.

When the plague struck, as it did frequently in those days, sometimes death came close. One of the children, Elizabeth, died in infancy. Hans and Paul lived to maturity and their descendants still are living in Germany. Marguerite lived to girlhood, but in a terrible time of trial for the busy parents, she died of illness. In the grief of that occasion, Luther formed the tune and words of his greatest hymn, “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.”

This aging father had innumerable organizational details of the reformed church. He was called to settle disputes between princes. His health, never good since his monastic days, grew worse. After a winter journey under difficult conditions, he died after attempting to resolve a conflict between two lords.

What shall we say of this man? He was a reformer. He was a reactionary who was unbelievably harsh with his fellow Peasants. He was intolerant. He was an anti-Semite. He was coarse and vulgar. But also, he was a great preacher and scholar. He translated the Bible into German, giving the people the scripture. His courage sparked the Reformation, giving birth to the numerous free Christian groups among which in later years our own was to be numbered. He was the Reformation’s greatest hymn-writer. Schweitzer remarked that the only person who ever really understood Martin Luther was Bach. He was a kind and loving, but financially embarrassed father. He was a teacher who won the respect of his students.

But the most loving and most human epitaph that the reformer earned, was written by the ex-nun that became his wife and the mother of their children. A month after his death, Catherine Von Bora Luther writing to her sister remarked how much she missed him:

Christina,

Who would not be sorrowful and mourn for so noble a man as my dear Lord, who served not only one city or land, but the whole world? Truly I am distressed that I cannot tell my sorrow to anyone. If I had a principality or empire it would never have cost me so much pain to lose them as I have now that our Lord God has taken from me, and not from me only but from the whole world, this dear and precious man.

(304 A MIGHTY FORTRESS, pp. 18-19)