Biography – Page 3 – The Lloyd C Douglas Page

Ten Commandments for the ‘College’ Church (Revisited)

Reproduction of “Ten Commandments for the ‘College’ Church,” an essay that Douglas published in The Intercollegian in their April 1919 issue.

I featured this article in an earlier post some years ago, but it’s appropriate to post it again now, as part of a series on Douglas’s essays in The Intercollegian from January 1919 through June 1920. Here is my earlier post:

Reprinted below is a humorous article by Lloyd C. Douglas published in the magazine, The Intercollegian, April 1919. During ten of his years as a minister, Douglas was on a university campus, first as the religious director of the YMCA at the University of Illinois (1911-1915), then as Senior Minister of the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor, adjacent to the University of Michigan (1915-1921).

Of particular note is the Tenth Commandment. Douglas had obviously run out of numbers, so he crammed several commandments into the last one. I especially like how he warns against asking big-name faculty members to teach Sunday School if their “spiritual thermostat” is below the freezing point.

The commandments are listed with Roman numerals:

I AM the Spirit of Christianity. Thou shalt have no other business but to promote me.

Thou shalt not squander thy time by offering dissertations upon Genesis as a text book on anthropology, biology, geology, astronomy, or any other ology or onomy appertaining to the heavens above or the earth beneath or the waters under the earth; thou shalt not bother thyself overmuch with philosophical explanations of strange matters concerning which thou knowest nothing; for I, the Spirit of Christianity, am now exercised more about other things; notably, the character of thy summons in behalf of lofty ideals and worthy living.

II.

Thou shalt not specialize upon indictments of Organized Christianity because of its ancient mistakes, for they are amply able to speak for themselves without thy help, and thy task is to remedy such blunders rather than commemorate them.

III.

Remember the Faculty and keep its respect. Students come and go, and their opinions are easily modified; but the Faculty Man stays, and likewise do his convictions. Let him once give thee a black eye, and thou shalt be thus adorned for some time. In him thou shalt invest much of thy time and thought, that his good opinion of thy motives and methods may be won, lest he consider thee out of harmony with Truth and intolerant of truth-seekers, whereupon he hooteth at thee in his lecture-hall, after the which thou mayest as well lock thy door and throw away the key thereof.

IV.

Honor the student traditions of thy university, however silly they may seem to thee, that thy days may be longer in the academic community wherein thou hast chosen to live thy life and perform thy work.

Thou shalt not scold.

VI.

Thou shalt not commit sectarianism.

VII.

Thou shalt not bawl out the fraternities.

VIII.

Thou shalt not cause thy most loyal students to flunk their courses by spending too much time scouring thy pots and pans, engineering thy pop-corn festivals, lest they evermore think of thee as one doth regard the tailor who built him the ill-fitting pants.

IX.

Thou shalt not covet university credits for thy courses in religion.

Thou shalt not covet the instructor’s right to consider it unprofessional to be interesting; thou shalt not toady to the professor who knifeth thee in the back after thou hast caused him to be made toastmaster of a student banquet within thy gates, nor ask them to teach thy classes in Bible study who, though they have large names and many letters affixed thereunto, register less than 32 degrees on their spiritual thermostat; thou shalt not covet the student’s slang, airs, dress, indifference, cold-bloodedness, or any other thing that undignifies thee and nullifies thy usefulness and causeth him to thrust his tongue in his cheek when he passeth thee by.

[The editor added this note at the end: These “commandments” may be of interest also – and profit – to Association Secretaries and other Christian workers in academic communities. – Edit.]

Calling All Professors

by Ronald R Johnson

From Lloyd Douglas’s essay, “Ph.D. — Director of Philanthropists,” in the February issue of The Intercollegian.

The following is an essay entitled, “Ph.D. — Director of Philanthropy,” which Lloyd Douglas published in the February 1919 issue of The Intercollegian, the monthly magazine of the YMCA. At the beginning of this essay, Douglas talks about two black men on a ship, one of which is seasick. His bunkmate tells him “we’s a passin’ a ship!” According to Douglas, the seasick man says, “Ah doan want tuh see no ship…. Call me when we’s a passin’ a tree!”

The Great War (which we now call WWI) had just concluded two months earlier, and Douglas draws the lesson:

“This yarn fits our mood. Certain sights, sounds, and demands have palled on us. Only a change of scenery will beguile our interest. The lore of bayonets, red and sticky, and of dead men’s legs sticking up out of the mud of the trenches — it is enough! Lead us away.

“It happens, now, that ‘we’s a passin’ a tree.’ Tourists will kindly hunt a porthole and look out.

“I’m both sorry and glad that I am not a faculty man, these days — sorry because I should like to have his chance to become immortal in the lives of the young fellows who are so eager to be led into a larger life; glad because I shouldn’t want to risk foozling such an opportunity.

“College students are facing their tasks just now with deep seriousness. The old selfishness has become unpopular. They used to say, ‘I should worry!’ Now they are saying, ‘I should worry!’ They are anxious to be challenged to do something to prove their right to live in these high days.

“A tremendous amount of spiritual energy, no longer static but kinetic, has been and is being generated in the heart of the young collegian. All persons who have to do with him will be held accountable by human society for the manner in which they help to recharge the batteries of life with this new dynamic, to carry the race over the long, lean years of such material prosperity as invariably follows great crises.

“The faculty man who believes in Christianity as ‘the theory of applied altruism’ and dares to say that he believes it in his classroom; challenging men to operate their lives centifugally; calling recent events to witness the folly of attempting to live centripetally; may justly feel that the five minutes he spends in making that speech are worth a whole semester’s lectures on his particular subject.

“Inversely, the member of the college teaching force who pooh-poohs the zealous aspirations of young men and women to invest themselves in some heroic philanthropic service is useful only as a brilliant and theatrical example of an ‘undesirable citizen.’

“Every thoughtful man is now called upon to acknowledge the value of ‘the imponderables’ — the facts of life which cannot be assayed by the ton or estimated with a slide rule.

“A certain type of academic, accustomed to doing his thinking only in the pluperfect [well in the past, in other words], will still pursue the ‘laboratory method’ of dealing with everything — regardless. Whether he makes research of a poem, an acid, a dogma, or an oratorio, he straps on his rubber apron, adjusts his green eye shade, lights the gas burner under the little copper pot, and pours whatever-it-is into a test tube.

“There is developing a new type of college instructor, however, whose imagination and faith are going to work wonders in helping the present crop of serious-minded students to deepen their own convictions that the greatest energies of this age are not to be spoken of in terms of KWs or BTUs [kilowatts or British Thermal Units].

“To my mind, there is no prophetic office more potential, in our day, than that occupied by the conscientious and fearless faculty man.

“His mere aside, tossed into a lecture, touching upon the importance of conserving the spiritual energies generated by this age of heroism and sacrifice, is worth more than all the sermons of the college preachers.

“One needs hardly add that his sneer at ‘the present wave of sentimentality’ can easily chill the ardor of many a student whose interest had been turned toward the things of life that really count.

“He shall be long remembered as a loyal friend of humanity, whose Ph.D. in these days means, ‘Director of Philanthropists’ — the potential philanthropists now in training in our colleges.”

Passenger or Crew Member?

by Ronald R Johnson

From Lloyd Douglas’s essay, “Taking the Grade,” published in The Intercollegian’s January 1919 issue.

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to post the essays Lloyd Douglas published in The Intercollegian (the monthly magazine of the YMCA) from January 1919 through June 1920. Today’s article is entitled, “Taking the Grade,” and it was published in the January 1919 issue. (Let me just say in advance: some of Douglas’s essays haven’t aged well. This one was written right after the end of WWI.)

“A thoughtful friend of mine, who is something of a maxim-wright, informs me that ‘eventful eras produce prophets.’ If this is true — and it does jingle like an honest-to-goodness proverb — we must have been passing through an uncommonly stirring period, judging by the densit of the present population on the Isle of Patmos.

“These prophets seem to constitute a new species of the genus seer, in that they are agreed on at least one premise, to wit: we are entering upon an age of unprecedented possibilities for the advancement of civilization.

“Now the unanimity of this forecast surely cannot be charged to collusion among the prophets, for the business of prophesying is strictly a one-man job. The prophets do not ‘collude.’ Never yet have they held an annual conference to elect officers and have their picture taken. Prophets are about as chummy as comets.

“Therefore, when all of them declare, with certitude, each independently of the others, that we are now en route to better things — and that, too, in face of the traditional uncheerfulness of their trade — the combined effect of their predictions is very heartening.

“We will consider this as a settled fact, then–an incontrovertable, non-sinkable, self-bailable, time-lock, sunk-hinge Fact. The world is about to ‘take the grade’ to the upper levels. After a long and uneventful journey across the prairie, civilization makes ready to climb to a clearer and cleaner atmosphere. But the prophets have not said that the world is going to toboggan up to that altitude. Coasting is only good for movement in the opposite direction.

“Whoever is interested in this proposed ascent of civilization will join the crew. Erstwhile coal-passers will ply their shovels at the furnace doors. Persons previously on the passenger list will go forward to the tender and help the stokers. Certain husky people will get out behind and push. A few daring ones may go ahead and pull — though this is dangerous business, involving the risk of being run over; it is sincerely to be hoped that nobody will try to pull who hasn’t had a lot of previous experience in pushing.

“Of course, there are to be many passengers. Special cars will be made up for various parties, such as the dirty nations, the greedy nations, the ignorant nations, the self-infatuated nations, and the sick nations.

“Certain other passengers with special reservations are such incapacitated types as the great-grandson of old Timothy Waggles, who sat on the wharf swinging his feet and shouting, ‘Fool!’ at Robert Fulton when the latter was trying to make his steamboat go; and the son of Caleb Scroggins, who hee-hawed at Langley’s attempt at an aeroplane; and Willum the Last, himself, who turned all the resources of his empire into gunpowder and then pulled the trigger.

“All these will have to be hauled up the grade; plus one more passenger. Him I heard say, not long ago, ‘What’s all this talk about ‘missions’ and ‘increased missionary effort’ and ‘a larger missionary program’? Personally, I have never seen any good in missions, and I don’t see any good in them now! I consider all this chatter to be mere piffle!’

“So, we have to haul him too, along with Waggles and Scroggins and Willum. He will probably expect an assignment to the most luxurious coach on the train. We can’t ask him to ride forward in one of the rattan tourist cars, along with the ordinary supermen and the Hunkies and the Turks and the rest of that gang who went out to spread ‘kultur’ among their benighted brethren. No; we’ll have the porter make up the drawing-room compartment for this man, and ask the steward of the diner to send him all his meals.

“I think I can see him chatting with the senile Waggles and the infirm Scroggins and the other old fellow, on the way up, saying, ‘Mighty fine bit of country through which we are passing, gentlemen! Growing more and more beautiful with every mile. Notice how pure the air smells up here! And, just to think, we’re coasting up! Remarkable, isn’t it?’

“Now, if we could find some way of coaxing this man to stroll through the train and see what all we have on board, I believe he would want to join the crew; for he is not a bad sort. He is just getting a bit elderly in his habits of thought. All his life he has been ransacking the depths of his inexperience for wise words of caution for all who ‘waste their money and strength on missions.’ His mind has been lighted up, slightly, by the general illumination that has been observed by most people not utterly blind; but his voice still quavers the old tune. His mind and his mouth seem to have become disconnected in some manner.

“Anybody with a plan to suggest for persuading this man to put on his hat and walk through the train will confer a great favor on the crew who need his assistance. If we could get him into that car where the passengers are down on all fours around a wooden thing with six legs, ten horns, two tails, and a stinger, beseeching it to give them health and harvests, I know he would say, ‘What this bunch of drooling idiots want is a God with some sense; and a corps of doctors, and some tractors, and a threshing-machine, and a million dollars’ worth of soap! Why, I didn’t know we had anything like this aboard! What kind of a train is this? Let me get out and look!’

“And if he did get out, and saw what a tremendous amount of energy it was going to require to haul this miscellaneous outfit up the grade, I know that fellow well enough to believe that he would take off his coat and help. For he’s not a fool, even if he is old and fat.”

An Editorial Note

by Ronald R Johnson

The front page of the YMCA’s monthly newsletter, *The Intercollegian*, in the fall of 1919.

For those of you who who have been reading this site sequentially, I wanted to give you an overview of what I’ll be posting over the course of the next few weeks. I’ve spent the past several months sharing the sermons that Lloyd Douglas preached at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor (at the University of Michigan) during the 1919-1920 school year. A young student named Freda Diekhoff, whose father was a professor at the university, kept the transcripts of those sermons and donated them years later to the Lloyd Douglas archives at the university’s Bentley Historical Library. I have shared all of them but one. For some reason, Ms. Diekhoff’s collection skips from Washington’s Birthday to Palm Sunday. I will share the Palm Sunday sermon closer to that date.

In the meantime, I thought it might be appropriate to cover the articles that Douglas published in the YMCA’s monthly newsletter during this same period. That publication, The Intercollegian, featured an editorial by Douglas every month from January 1919 through June 1920. Over the next few weeks, I will post those essays, returning to Frieda Diekhoff’s collection in time for Palm Sunday.

Washington’s Prayer

by Ronald R Johnson

A page from “The Father of Our Country,” a sermon preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on February 22, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

It is the weekend of President’s Day, 1920, and Lloyd C Douglas is preaching a sermon on the subject, “The Father of Our Country,” at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor. The date is February 22, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

In this sermon, Douglas talked about the unique characteristics that he admired about President George Washington: his poise, his simplicity, his attitude of service to others. And now, at the conclusion of his address, Douglas says,

“Among the many written prayers with which his [Washington’s] personal memoirs abound is this petition, composed during his presidency of the United States, and evidently at a time of considerable strain.” Douglas closes with this prayer by Washington:

Most Gracious Lord: from whom proceedeth every good and perfect gift, take care, I pray Thee, of my affairs, and more and more direct me to Thy truth.

Suffer me not to be enticed from Thee by the blandishments of this world.

Work in me Thy good will; discharge my mind from all things that are displeasing to Thee, of ill will and discontent, wrath and bitterness, pride and vain conceit, of myself, and render me charitable, pure and patient.

Make me willing and fit to die when Thou shalt call me hence.

Bless the whole race of mankind, and let the world be filled with the knowledge of Thyself and Thy Son, the Christ.

Bless Thou my friends, and grant me grace to forgive my enemies as heartily as I desire forgiveness of Thee for my transgressions.

Defend me from all evil, and do more for me than I can think or ask, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

Washington’s Simplicity

by Ronald R Johnson

[This is from a sermon entitled, “The Father of Our Country,” preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on February 22, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)]

“Now, if a man proposes to be a servant of his time, it means that his chief errand in life is to give rather than to get. There is something peculiarly apt about Paul’s admonition to them that have something to give.

“Says the Tarsan: ‘Let him that gives, do it with simplicity.’

“No big show of it; no large spread of it; no self-conscious parade of it; for many a seemly virtue has been made extremely obvious for having been too broadly advertised by its possessor.

“Not too serious about it, either, as if to say, ‘Here, I have skimped and saved and done without — for you, you no-account; I have slaved till my fingers bled, in order to hand you this inestimably valuable whatever-it-is; and now that it is yours, don’t let me ever catch you forgetting what an awful time I had getting it for you.’

“Why, you and I know people who, when they give anything, raise such a hullabaloo about it and make such a profound and painful fuss over their magnanimity that they who benefit by the generosity would as leave do without the good thing as to witness the scene in the shambles before the altar of sacrifice has been reached.

“George Washington had much to give, and he gave it with simplicity. He apparently never thought of himself as a great man who must of necessity weigh his every word so that when history laid hold of him it should find him guiltless of a split infinitive or caught with some idea slightly less than cosmic in its application. I don’t believe he was thinking much about the future or attempting to prescribe for universal maladies of the social order. He was doing his honest best to serve his own people, of his own generation, and minister to the needs of the hour.

“One mark of his simplicity was his modesty, a not altogether unbecoming grace in a man elected by his countrymen to execute their wishes. When, for example, he was appointed commander-in-chief of the United States armies, he declared himself utterly unfit for the position and begged to be permitted to serve his country, at war, in some subordinate capacity. And when finally he accepted this trust, he took the office without salary, stoutly maintaining that only the feeling that he might be shirking his duty if he declined reconciled him to the idea of serving in this conspicuous position.

“Moreover, it is stated of him that Washington was always a determined skeptic as to his fitness to fill the positions to which he was successively elected, plainly shrinking from promotions involving larger responsibilities. When Washington gave of himself, he gave with simplicity.

“Examination of his state papers reveals them as of immediate concern with the problems of the exact day and hour of their composition. Therefore they are of great interest to succeeding generations. Had he been writing under the delusion that he was a prophet or a seer, it would not have been so. Neither would his utterances have amounted to much in his own time, or to anything later.

“He was just a simple-hearted American citizen — of deep patriotism and genuine concern for his neighbors, trying to do and say that which might best meet the needs of his country at the hour. And, having acted in that attitude, his words have become invested with much wisdom for his posterity…. No prophet; no sage; no seer; no political mystic, conscious of the powers of divination; but only a simple-hearted, great-souled, fine-fibered Christian gentleman — the welfare and contentment of his countrymen his most urgent thought.”

[I will share the last part of Douglas’s sermon in my next post.]

Douglas’s Thoughts on George Washington

by Ronald R Johnson

“The sign and token of this day is a device featuring a hatchet and the ragged stump of a young cherry tree. Many people know that George Washington once cut down a cherry tree and truthfully confessed his sin, who probably remember little else about this man except, possibly, that he was the first president of the United States.

“Now, instead of merely taking it for granted, as a peculiar and interesting fact that so great a man as Washington must be made concrete for us by the sign of a hatchet with which, as a lad, he was said to have hewn down a cherry tree, it is worth our while to attempt to fathom the reason for this. Surely there must be a reason.

“It may be hastily concluded that this hatchet symbol means that Washington’s outstanding attribute was his unswerving adherence to the absolute truth. In the interest of that same kind of truth, it must be admitted that this story about Washington probably hasn’t a leg to stand on. It pains me to reflect that this yarn about the hatchet and the cherry tree was said to have been invented by a man of my own profession — one Reverence Mason Weems.

“This good man wrote a biography of Washington in 1800 which caught the popular fancy and had a circulation quite out of proportion to its actual merits. When, six years later, he came to the point of preparing a second edition of it — flushed with pride over his success — he introduced many anecdotes of Washington’s youth which that worthy, then silent in his tomb at Mt. Vernon, was unable to deny. Among these delightful reminiscences of the great man which the Reverend Mr. Weems evolved from his exceedingly versatile imagination, occurred the story of the cherry tree. And she is a very unprofitable schoolteacher who fails to point the salutary moral for her disciples that Washington was so infatuated with the truth that it began to show up in him when he was a little boy; therefore, go and do likewise.

“A slightly deeper inquiry into the peculiar processes of the public mind, however, in catching at this fanciful story of the hatchet and the cherry tree reveals a fact that must not be overlooked in our estimate of Washington. That he was a truth-lover and a lie-hater is undoubtedly correct. But the real reason that the hatchet-story has become symbolic of this man is probably due to his simplicity of heart.

“There are a few equestrian statues of Washington, but they are not notable statues, and not many people know exactly where they are, who carved them, or the occasions of their establishment. When you try to visualize Washington, you do not think of him on a horse, though that is the way he spent most of his time out of doors. Neither do you conjure a picture of him brandishing a sword and shouting to a tattered and disorganized army to get into the game and try to put some pep into it before it is too late.

“You would have John Paul Jones that way, and Phil Sheridan, and the redoubtable [Teddy] Roosevelt (all of whom were truly great men, if I have any notion of the meaning of that adjective), but Washington seems always to be placid, poised, unexcited.

“Most people like that picture of him in the open boat, crossing the Delaware — by no means posed as a big dictator, frowning upon the slaves of his galley, impatient to be done with them and on his way — but rather as a member, in good and regular standing, of a party of patriots, all equally concerned with a common cause — he not moving any faster than they, all of them in the same boat, he conscious of the value and importance of their oar-strokes to the successful course of this little transport.

“One of the marks of Washington’s greatness was his democratic simplicity. Of old, our Master said to his disciples, apropos of human greatness: ‘You are aware that among the gentiles, their leaders exercise lordship and their greatest men lord it over them; it must not be so among you. Whoever would be greatest must be servant of all.’

“Now, we do not stray far afield when we make this the first test of a genuinely great man. Of course, it is to be admitted that there are many notable historic characters of whom but little could be predicated, were one to judge them by this Galilean standard of greatness. But such conspicuous characters were mostly of the type that shot up, like a red rocket, to flare, dazzlingly, for an hour, in some crucial exigency when, but for their audacity and courage, a great cause might have been lost. And we are quite willing that these meteors should have as much praise as the fixed stars — even if their highest service was rendered at the moment of their extinction.

“But as one turns the pages which certify to the long careers of eminent leaders, one discovers that the great names — the really and truly great, who were so great that little children must be taught to speak pieces about them and the banks close on their birthdays, seven scores of years after their deaths — such great were invariably of the servant type in their attitude toward the state as an institution, and their countrymen as fellow pilgrims.”

[Douglas went on to talk about this attitude of service. I’ll tell you more about that in my next post.]

What We Remember about Historical Figures

by Ronald R Johnson

The title page of “The Father of Our Country,” a sermon preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on February 22, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

“Whenever any of his historical characters in a play happened to get caught in a tight squeeze, or a peculiar predicament demanding instant resourcefulness, William Shakespeare always hurried to the rescue with a fine phrase that exactly suited the emergency.

“A typical occasion arose when that interesting ex-hero, Julius Caesar, lay weltering in his own gore at the foot of Pompey’s statue, having gone the way of things autocratic. It seemed incumbent upon somebody to make a few remarks. Antony volunteered to perform this solemn service. And as he cast about for some reliable rhetorical whitewash wherewith to anoint the nineteen (or was it twenty-six?) carmine-stained dirk-rents in the toga of him whose first personal pronoun singular had become too huge any longer to be contained in his corporeal body, Shakespeare rushes to Antony’s relief with this wholesale indictment of humanity: ‘The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.’

“As much as to say, ‘Of course, an unfriendly world — meaning you — will reflect only upon this man’s mistakes; it will not, however, be decent enough to remember the good things about him, many of which I could tell you if I had the time and you were fit to hear them.’

“In passing, it might be added that Mark Antony was not the sole beneficiary of this fetching phrase — as many a hard-pressed funeral orator of a less remote period would willingly testify. Whenever you happen in upon the obsequies of a public character and hear the preacher quote this text of Shakespeare’s, you may put it down that they are getting ready to bury all that is mortal of a great rake. It is never used except as a sweet-smelling spice to embalm somebody of whom the less said, the better.

“For ordinary working purposes, it is untrue. Ninety-nine times in a hundred, ‘the evil that men do’ is speedily forgotten, provided they had contrived to achieve enough of good to warrant their being remembered at all. And for every Nero, Caligula, Attila, or Judas Iscariot, of whose lives nothing is preserved but the decidedly unpleasant, and whose names are symbolic of all that is reprehensible, there abide, securely fixed in the chronicles of every nation, hundreds of heroes whom history reveres to the extent of adulation — entirely willing to forget their lapses and indiscretions.

“History is just the subconscious mind of the human race and can be depended upon to tuck deeply away from sight whatsoever of her memories she would willingly part with. Doubtless one of the most beneficent provisions of our All Wise Creator is His endowment of us with this strange capacity for battering down the unpleasant, the humiliating, the belittling, and the besmirching experiences of our past, until the memory of them rarely obtrudes upon our active consciousness. One of the most cruel forms of insanity is that of the disordered mind which is no longer able to keep its bitter doses down.

“And, by the same token, he is most richly invested of all men who, ‘forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forth to those things which are before,’ can press toward the mark, unimpeded by the torturing memories of his weaker hours. In like manner is that nation to be considered most fortunate which can, with good conscience, transpose Antony’s requiem over Caesar into a major key and shout that the good that men do lives after them while their evil is mostly buried in their graves.

“We Americans, said to be rather generous by nature, have been singularly blessed with this ability to celebrate the very best that is to be remembered of the lives of our heroes. We are prompt to idealize them and make the most of their merits. No sooner does a strong man die than we put his fineness out, at compound interest, and, in a space, are able to strum the lute and chant epic songs about our great, in which the canonical and apocryphal are so delightfully and inextricably entangled that our minstrelsy might well excite the envy of Homer and bring confusion upon the head of the imaginative Vergil.

“One of the fascinating cases in point is that of the truly great man whose birthday we celebrate on this twenty-second day of February — he who has become known as the Father of our Country.”

[I will continue this in my next post.]

How Will You Use Your Powers?

by Ronald R Johnson

A page from the sermon “The Wilderness,” preached by Lloyd C Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on 2/15/1920. In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.

Have you ever been part of a group icebreaker exercise where you were asked, “What superpower do you wish you had?” There’s something like that in this text I’m quoting from Lloyd Douglas, except he isn’t asking what powers you wish you had; he’s asking how high you would rate the powers you have been given.

Douglas is talking about Christ’s temptations in the wilderness — in this case, the temptation to turn stones into bread. This is from a sermon entitled, “The Wilderness,” preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on February 15, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

“If the cause is large enough,” says Douglas, “and a man is aware of its importance, he can be depended upon to esteem that cause first. His life, his convenience, his appetite, these are negligible considerations.

“So, with Jesus, the solution of his problem all traced back to his estimate of the importance of his power. If it was Heaven-lent, it was not to be used in any such manner as was involved in this temptation.

“If a student fails of preparing himself for his life-work because, while he was in college, sport was more important than study, because he had gone through his period of training saying, ‘A man must live. A man must have a bit of fun. A man can’t work himself to death,’ this only means that his temporary pleasure was of more concern to him than his permanent power. He is an opportunist.

“If the merchant or manufacturer fails to keep his product up to grade because of unscrupulous competition, saying, ‘A man must live,’ he merely means that temporary success is more important than a permanent sense of inviolable integrity.

“This is the problem Jesus handles in his statement, ‘Lay not up for yourselves treasures where moth and rust corrupt and where thieves break through and steal, for where your treasures are, there will your heart be also.’

“If bread is the supreme fact of your life, why then, it is to be supposed that you should go after bread — but it will be with the distinct understanding that there are many other things, probably better, which will be forever denied you. If ‘getting on prosperously, by any hook or crook’ is the best thing in life and affords you chief satisfaction, why, it were foolish to have any other aspiration.

“But if the great things of life are larger than pleasure, more significant than prosperity, better than bread, then one must sacrifice to have them, just as one must sacrifice the great things to have less. One rarely appreciates a virtue until one has purchased the right to its possession at a heavy price.

“I suppose most of our mistakes are made because we do not invoice our personal power at a figure sufficiently high to represent its value. We cheat, only because we do not understand the moral satisfaction of being honest. We lie, because we have not recognized the moral pleasure of being truthful. We are selfish, only because we have not experienced the joy of sacrifice.

“The tempter says, ‘Jesus, you are hungry. You have the power to provide bread. Why not do so?’

“And Jesus replies, ‘Why not, indeed? I am hungry and I have the power to provide bread. But if I… debase my power for this purpose, what will that do to my power? Will not that act reduce my power — just by placing a low figure on it?’

“So may I today test out the value of my brain, to me — my eyes, my ears, my hands, my heart. What are they all worth? Just what I think they are worth. If I use them for the attainment of little, selfish ends, then they are worth just as much as littleness and selfishness are worth. If they are quite too important to be put to unworthy uses, they are important enough to be put to worthy uses. Which is only another way of saying that as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.

“If he thinks himself a rascal, he is — all of that. If he thinks his life is worthless and his mind is poor and his power is cheap, he is correct in his assumptions.

“And if he thinks himself a child of God, entrusted with power too precious to be squandered — he is a child of God, and his power is precious. It does not belong on Mammon’s counter, but upon the altar of his God.”

This raises the question: What powers have you been given?

Decision Day

by Ronald R Johnson

“Jesus was entering upon his life work, jubilant of heart. He did not journey into the Jeshimon Wilderness over a Via Dolorosa. He was led up. All the bright hopes of the future led him up. He had a career before him. He had found his Father, God. His Father was very real to him — not circumscribed by books and laws and holy buildings, but accessible to all His children, regardless of race or country. Someday soon [Jesus] would return and tell the story of his discovery of this spiritual Father.

“Just now, he wished to be alone…”

Lloyd Douglas is speaking to students at the University of Michigan (among others), and he is about to tell the story of Christ’s temptations in the wilderness. This is from a sermon entitled, “The Wilderness,” preached by Lloyd C. Douglas at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor on February 15, 1920. (In Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)

“There comes a time in every story when all the circumstances, episodes, and incidents of the narrative seem to have converged upon one focal point which is to stand as a sort of decision day. A casual event of a few chapters earlier, passed as merely possessing a touch of color now bobs up wearing a very determined air. And so, when all of these circumstances, accumulated along the way, strike that point of focus where there are some great choices to be made, between love and duty perhaps, or between resignation and struggle, this day and hour and place and condition are encircled with a blue pencil and named ‘The Crisis.’ After that there are definite results which follow as the night the day.

“After the Macbeths have murdered their royal guests, we expect just one eventuality; for murder will out. After King Lear has repudiated his faithful daughter and trusted himself to the tender mercies of flattery and duplicity, we know exactly what will be the end of it. After the senators have finally rounded up enough influences to assure the destruction of Caesar and have planned the crime and gone home to make ready the fateful hour, we ourselves might easily compose the rest of the story. After the moneychangers have been scourged out of the temple, we understand that the cross is already in the making. When the crisis has been reached, the catastrophe is inevitable….

“Jesus is tempted to misuse his divine power by producing bread. It was not a question of starvation for him. He was hungry because he had gone out voluntarily where there was no food to be had. When he finds himself dangerously hungry, in peril of his life through starvation, he may easily retrace his steps out of the wilderness and find food.

“The problem was, What use should he make of his newfound power? For he was conscious now of his ability to perform extraordinary deeds.

“‘Here is all this wonderful energy,’ he was saying. ‘Let me test it out. I am hungry. I need bread. Why should I not use my power to provide food?’

“And as the sense of his power, on the one hand, and his hunger, on the other, associated themselves in his mind, he felt that much could be said in favor of doing this thing. To be sure, he could find bread by going back where bread was to be had. But it was good for him to be out here in this wilderness, planning his campaign. He ought not to be inconvenienced by hunger. It seemed like a temptation of necessity….

“How often do we get ourselves into trouble through such faulty logic as deals with a so-called problem of necessity. A man gives his customers short weight and adulterated goods because an ungodly competition makes it necessary. Overworks and underpays his employees because industrial rivalry makes it necessary. Lies to forward his business interests because if he does not lie, he can’t compete with his rivals — the lie therefore being necessary.

“Sometimes he says, ‘A man must live,’ not meaning that he is likely to die but that a man must live up to a certain standard of convenience, wealth, and luxury….

“Jesus’ reply to his temptation may properly be regarded a motto for all who face what they choose to call the temptation of necessity. ‘Man does not live by bread alone.’ There are other considerations of higher value than bread. Just the satisfaction of knowing that one has maintained one’s principles, at the cost of bodily hunger and inconvenience, is worth more than the satisfaction of serving one’s appetite.”

[I’ll tell you his concluding thoughts in my next post.]