christianity – The Lloyd C Douglas Page

On Student Gambling

From the January 1920 issue of The Intercollegian.

This is from an essay entitled, “Ulcers and Cancers,” that Lloyd Douglas published in the January 1920 issue of The Intercollegian.

“It is rumored that there is an epidemic of gambling in the colleges and universities of this country.

“Physicians say that it is quite difficult, in many cases, to distinguish a cancer from an ulcer. The ulcer is mostly ‘benign’ and responds to treatment; the cancer is generally ‘malignant’ and usually defies remedial processes. There is a period when the ulcer becomes a cancer. If the affection is internal, correct diagnosis is almost impossible. The physician regards every ulcer as a potential cancer. If he observes one on your nose, he may operate in time; if you get one in your stomach, by the time the doctor discovers it is an ulcer, it may be a cancer.

“It is only a short trip from ‘penny ante’ and ‘pitching choppers at a crack’ to ‘strip poker’ and the ‘bucket shop.’

“Just when the disease ceases to be ‘benign’ and becomes ‘malignant’ is difficult to determine.

“But here is a quiet tip on one safe bet: the student who learns to gamble — no matter how small the stakes — is engaged in the manufacture of a habit that will stick to him like burrs in the fleece of a Southdown ram.

“Once firmly fix this habit, and you may say farewell to your ambitions. So soon as the ulcer becomes a cancer, you are doomed. There will be no gamble on that. Betting on such a proposition is not sportsmanship. The only uncertainty in the case is to determine whether your sore spot is still an ulcer or has become cancerous. And this is very hard to determine in the case of gambling, because it is a more or less secret condition which enjoins locked doors, drawn blinds, and hushed voices.

“Friendship is good for some very severe tests, but it suffers greatly around the gaming table. The nerve which connects the affection and the pocketbook is extremely sensitive. The winner is conscious of taking something for which he has given no value; he automatically assumes a defensive attitude, knowing himself to be in his friend’s debt to the amount of the stakes. This is not very good for their friendship.

“If a man is unusually successful, his companions are apt to distrust his methods. They whisper that he cheats.

“If a man is a ‘poor loser,’ his friends grow to despise him; but, to be a ‘good loser’ he must school himself to a calm indifference toward the depletion of his own resources. In the case of a student, his ‘resources’ are mostly achieved through somebody else’s perspiration and have been entrusted to him for quite another purpose than the hazards of the game. Somewhat bluntly stated, he is misappropriating funds. Just when this ceases to be a ‘mere youthful misdemeanor’ and becomes ’embezzlement’ is a very fine point. But the student who gambles with money furnished by parents who are under the impression that he is using it to defray legitimate college expenses should not be sensitive about the word ’embezzlement.’ It is an admittedly ugly word, however.

“No secret is made of the fact that employers are inclined to be suspicious of the man who bets — on anything. It makes them nervous when they see him handling their property, for they know that he has developed a propensity to risk. They are afraid of riskers. If they want to do any risking, they greatly prefer to attend to that themselves. They assume that a man who is willing to hazard his own money on the turn of a card or the cast of dice may not be prudential and conservative in the care of funds or property belonging to another.

“They dislike to see a gambler handling their money. They audit his books frequently when he is out of the office; and, at the first opportunity, they can him and put a safe man in his place.

“Maybe these words will happen to catch the eye of some student who has been experimenting with this vice. If so — you had better attend to your little ulcer before it becomes cancerous. And the more difficulty you experience in getting rid of it, the more sure it will be that you didn’t begin treating it a moment too soon.”

Fur Coats

by Ronald R Johnson

The following is from an essay by Lloyd Douglas entitled, “Fur Coats,” published in the December 1919 issue of the YMCA’s monthly magazine, The Intercollegian.

“It was a good train, and we had been doing our fifty miles an hour all afternoon. But the trip was long, the book I had been reading had depressed me, and I was feeling the need of some congenial human society when the young doctor sauntered down the aisle and, upon receipt of my smile of welcome, dropped into the vacant chair.

“‘What’s the book?’ he inquired. I told him. It was Professor Cram’s brilliant little volume, Walled Towns.

“‘What’s it about?’ he persisted. I read him a few selected passages, specializing on the author’s indictment of modern society.

“‘This man thinks,’ I remarked, ‘that one of our chief errors is ‘the quantitative standard’ — the worship of bigness, the rejection of ‘the passion for perfection in favor of the numerical equivalent’ — exhibited alike by ‘the ignorant contractor, trying, by the aid of galvanized iron, to produce an effect of a tawdry, lying magnificence,’ and the exploiters of ‘foolish luxuries, and so-called amenities of life which we were far happier without.’ Pretty dismal invoice of the times, don’t you think?’ — for I hoped this young man might restore my optimism.

“‘Well,’ replied the doctor gravely, ‘I don’t believe he has overstated the case. I am blue, today, over certain matters closely related to this.’

“I told him to unpack his troubles from his old kit-bag and we’d look ’em over. He did so. He was on his way back, he said, from the annual ‘homecoming’ at his alma mater — one of the greater state universities of the middle west. There had been a thrilling football game, and a crowded program of social events.

“‘Nothing in all that to be blue about,’ I observed. ‘You must have had a mighty good time.’

“‘I am never going back!’ he said passionately. ‘Never!’

“Whereupon I handed him the inevitable ‘Why?’ — and waited for the story.

“‘Even at my own fraternity house,’ he began, with suppressed indignation, ‘I felt like a cat in a strange attic. The only values there were money values! The new outfit was cold, hard, worldly-wise, blasé, candidly snobbish! Many of the old grads were back. The youngsters coolly appraised their cars, their clothes, and accepted or rejected them on a financial basis. Some of the old fellows brought their wives out to the dance. The woman who appeared without a fur coat was extremely fortunate if she wasn’t snubbed by that selfish, silly, inordinately stupid bunch of new-rich!’

“‘A fur coat!’ I echoed, somewhat dazedly.

“‘Yes!’ snapped the doctor, angrily, ‘a fur coat! That’s the sign of the order now! The Inner Guard at the Greek portal asks the Outer Guard, ‘Who comes there?’ And the Outer Guard replies, ‘Looks like an old grad!’ Says the Inner Guard, ‘How did he get here?’ ‘Motored!’ ‘Spiffy car?’ ‘Not so very!’ ‘Come alone?’ ‘Wife with him!’ ‘Fur coat?’ ‘No!’ ‘Tell ’em we’re sorry!’

“‘But,’ I stammered, ‘what’s going to become of our justly celebrated Democracy if we have this sort of thing going on, right at the tap-root of the leadership we are training to bring us out of our social wilderness?’

“The doctor didn’t know. Presently, we discovered that we weren’t cheering each other’s mood very much, and he went back to his seat while I resumed the little book at the place where Professor Cram was saying, ‘Neither is education a universal panacea for this persistent disease of backsliding; it is not even a palliative or a prophylactic. The most intensive educational period ever known had issue in the most preposterous war in history [WWI, which had ended a year earlier], initiated by the most highly educated of all people, by them given a new content of disgrace and savagery, and issuing at last into Bolshevism and an obscene anarchy that would be ridiculous but for the omnipresent horror!’

“‘But the war!’ I reflected. ‘Surely it was guaranteed to furnish us a new outlook on life! It was to prove ‘a great regenerative agency, out of whose fiery purgation would issue forth a new spirit that would redeem the world.’

“I turned back to the little book and found the professor saying, ‘Every great war exhibits at least two phenomena following on from its end: the falling back into an abyss of meanness, materialism, and self-seeking, with the swift disappearance of the spiritual exaltation during the fight; and the emergence, sooner or later, of isolated personalities who have retained the ardor of spiritual regeneration and who struggle to bring the mass of the people back to their lost ideals.’

“Are these ‘isolated personalities’ now in preparation for their sublime task? Are they in college this winter? And what do they think of the ‘fur coat’ standard of human values?”

The Pearl Merchant

by Ronald R Johnson

From the November 1919 issue of The Intercollegian.

In October 1919, Lloyd Douglas preached a sermon about Christ’s parable of the Pearl of Great Price. In the next month’s issue of The Intercollegian (the magazine put out by the YMCA in America), he published an essay that summarized the things he had said in that sermon. I told about that sermon in an earlier series of posts, and you can read them by clicking on the following links: Part One… Part Two… and Part Three.

Here is the article in the November 1919 issue of The Intercollegian:

“Only in recent times have civilized people worn jewelry for mere display. Their ornamental value formerly took second place to their symbolic significance. The amethyst has wrought many a moral miracle through its legendary power to protect its owner from evil thoughts. Who doubts that the man who had sacrificed many a pleasure to purchase an amethyst for this purpose failed to find help in its ownership?

“Once, a complete allegory of human aspiration, condensed into the telegraphic brevity of thirty-three words, was built around a pearl. Hear the story.

“The hero was a pearl trader. He was not a mere collector, playing at pearls for a pastime; he was a pearl-merchant, seriously making his business a life task. But he loved his vocation, and dealt only with the very finest pearls on the market. Years of shrewd and discriminating negotiations had brought him affluence. His capital stock now contained many pearls of exceptional value.

“Imagination suggests that the trader might have bought one of these cherished pearls in Athens. It was known to him as his ‘agnostic’ pearl. It stood for a neutral-tinted, convictionless attitude of mind — forever seeking evidence, cross-questioning witnesses, and examining testimony; but never arriving at a verdict. Whenever his heart proposed that he take a definite stand for something, he fondled his ‘agnostic’ pearl and remained non-committal. Indeed, he came to have much pride in his unfaiths, and was not offended when men called him a disbeliever. The word was not an epithet, but a distinction. Of all his goodly pearls, he loved this one best.

“But not much less ardently did he esteem the pearl he had found in Rome, the ancient seat of law. He called it ‘justice.’ It had kept him straight, many a time, when he might have cheated without it. Whatever happened, he would be just. Every man should have his due. But no man need expect more than his due. Sometimes the pearl-trader’s heart was moved to pity, for a moment, at sight of human wretchedness; sometimes he was sorely tempted to temper his justice with mercy, but the Roman pearl drew him up before he weakened. Mercy was enervating.

“Another pearl he had discovered in Alexandria — home of riches. When he thumbed the satin surface of his ‘prosperity’ pearl, he invariably experienced a thrill of pride in his wealth, and a longing for added riches. After all, honor and influence were not often far away from the man who held great possessions. Poverty, espoused even in the interest of fine and worthy ideals, was an intolerable curse. Who could afford to be poor?

“Many other pearls had this merchant, in the ownership of which he greatly rejoiced. But still he sought goodly pearls, not content with his possessions. Somewhere, he believed, there must be another jewel of rare value. It had become his sole passion to seek such pearls.

“One day — strangely enough, it was in the ancient city of his fathers — he was pointed to a pearl of such surpassing beauty and perfection that he knew he could never be happy until he had made it his own. He sought out the owner and, together, they discussed, long and earnestly, the peculiar significances attached to the super-pearl. It appeared that ownership of this pearl invested one with a simple, restful, childlike acceptance of the mysteries of life. The wearer would be unable to take pride in his unbeliefs, but would find himself saying, ‘I am persuaded. No; I do not pretend to explain; but I am persuaded!’ Moreover, the super-pearl was sure to guarantee a new state of mind to the four-square man who staked his all on the ‘quid pro quo.’ The wearer of this pearl would become so infatuated with Charity that his erstwhile emulation of pure justice would lose interest for him. And, again, this rare jewel had the power to distract a man’s thoughts from his own prosperity and focus his whole attention upon the happiness and welfare of others.

“The pearl-trader asked its price, somewhat nervously, it is to be believed; for he suspected that its value was beyond his reach. He was told that he might have it in exchange for his entire stock of pearls.

“Surely it must have demanded a long and serious mental struggle for the pearl-trader to arrive at a decision to exchange all of his precious jewels for this one pearl of great price. A friend, unacquainted with pearls, suggested that he ask the owner to cut the pearl in two (as diamonds are cut), but he only smiled sadly and replied, ‘Pearls cannot be cut, my friend. I must take it or leave it as it stands!’

“And so, he refused to trade. And so, he debated again the advisability of trading. And so, at length, he came with his precious pearls and gave them all for this one pearl of great price. For he was a merchant who sought goodly pearls, and he could not be satisfied until he had possessed the best! It is by this process, said the Master Teacher of us all, that the Kingdom of Heaven is achieved in the heart of the individual.”

Paste These Words in Your Hat

by Ronald R Johnson

From Douglas’s essay, “Wedding Clothes,” published in the May 1919 issue of The Intercollegian.

This is from “Wedding Clothes,” by Lloyd C. Douglas, in the May 1919 issue of The Intercollegian, the YMCA’s monthly magazine.

“The prince was about to be married. His father, the king, planned a banquet in honor of the nuptials. Only the blue-blooded and full-pedigreed were invited. They sent regrets. The king was enraged. He told his servants to go out and bring in anybody and everybody. The servants brought them.

“Some came because they were curious to see the king’s palace; some to eat; some to drink; some to be able to boast later that they had been there; some to follow the crowd. None of them felicitated the prince or inquired for the bride or cared a whoopteree for the wedding.

“Robes were provided at the door to cover the guests’ rags and patches, on the theory that if you can’t have interior respectability, you’d better try to rub some of it on the outside. One unkempt fellow said, ‘I’ll not wear their togs. They can take me just as I am, or throw me out!’ So they threw him out. It may have been a trivial reason for expulsion, but out he went.

“The man who told this fable added, ‘Many are called, but few are chosen.’

“A long time ago, men were born into the Kingdom of Larger Opportunity. Then, so many of the pedigreed fell down on their jobs that the K. of L. O. was thrown open to the general public. They began coming from all quarters to attend the feast of wisdom provided by our institutions of higher learning.

“Some came because it was their parents’ wish; some because they had finished high school, and what else was there to do; some to participate in the sports and the games; some to enjoy the fun and frolic of student life; some to follow the crowd. They are still coming. Many are called, but few are chosen. The majority are pitched out of the K. of L. O. as soon as they enter — sometimes for trivial reasons.

“One man is rejected from the K. of L. O. because he doesn’t know how to speak his own language. Some people know five languages; he doesn’t know any. The vernacular has always served his purpose. Says he, “‘I done it’ is just as good as ‘I did it,’ haint it, so long as I really went and done it?” Then, the day comes when the Big Man, who has it all to say whether our young hero gets his chance in the K. of L. O., hears him talk, passes him up as either too stupid to have noticed the difference between his uncouth speech and the language of cultured men, or too lazy to have mended his slovenly talk, or too indifferent to care. Anyway, out he goes. Oh, not to perish utterly; just to become a second-rater, holding the light and grinding the knives and washing the dishes and collecting the data for some other fellow who hasn’t half his morals but twice his manners.

“Another is thrown out because he doesn’t know how to eat; thinks a knife will do, so long as he is careful not to cut his face. Another is thrown out because he is so beastly ungracious. Another is thrown out because, when he shakes hands, he offers a flabby, flaccid pudding to the Big Man who, having shaken it and put it aside, says, ‘He will not do. It’s his hand. There’s no bling in him!’ And, all the time, the bling may be in him — only one wouldn’t suspect it by shaking the dead fish attached to his wrist.

“The pity of it all is that every year men graduate and go out to win their way in the world, and mess things up for society, who lack any moral purpose, who would willingly double-cross their own grandmothers for a dollar, while other men, who have studied themselves round-shouldered and half-blind preparing to do their share of the world’s work — honest, industrious, sincere — are pitched out of the K. of L. O. for lack of some insignificant decoration, like the wedding garment.

“Many are called, but few are chosen.

“Paste these words in your hat.

“For the man who gave them to us always knew what what he was talking about.”

Ten Commandments for the ‘College’ Church (Revisited)

by Ronald R Johnson

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.]