“Early in the experience of every person who hopes to live a purposeful life,” says Lloyd Douglas, “there comes a consciousness of an ideal. For almost nobody is too absurdly self-sufficient [not] to understand [with Longfellow] that the ‘Lives of great men all remind us/We can make our lives sublime.’ Whether or not ‘We leave behind us/Footprints on the sands of time,’ is, indeed, quite another matter, depending on a variety of circumstances.”
It is Sunday morning, February 15, 1920, and Douglas is preaching to his congregation of students, professors, and administrators from the University of Michigan, as well as townspeople, at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor. (This is filed under Sermons [5], Box 3, Lloyd C. Douglas Papers, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan. © University of Michigan.)
Douglas holds up Christ as the supreme example to follow. In previous weeks he has been talking about how to develop (or, in his words, “discover” and “express”) one’s personality. Today he turns his focus on the Person whom he considers the Ultimate Personality.
“Jesus of Nazareth was but thirty-three years of age when he closed his eventful career, perhaps only thirty-one, and eighteen years of that short life are wrapped in mysterious silence. Of Jesus’ infancy and early childhood there is abundant record, replete with incident and rich in colorful detail.
“Clear-cut as a cameo [a raised sculpture cut out of a gem, in bold relief], the circumstances of his birth stand out in such high relief that all the world feels acquainted with the Babe of Bethlehem. It is as if we might take him in our arms. Every legend of the Nativity is precious. We see Joseph, the Nazarene carpenter, standing sentinel over the Child of promise, and Mary’s transfigured face as, in ecstasy of love, she clasps her little Son to her breast. We watch the shepherds leave their flocks and the sages journey from afar to pay homage at the manger-shrine. We attend the presentation in the temple and are thrilled at the escape from the murderous jealousy of the governor.
“We see him at the age of twelve, in company with his parents, attending the annual Passover feast in Jerusalem where, having contrived to gain admission to the Hall [of Hewn Stones], the lad converses with the doctors of the law on high themes, surprising and bewildering them all with his queries.
“Thus far, it is as if this sublime epic were rendered by a choir in full view, every syllable of the anthem clearly audible. But at this point there is a decided ritard. The choir recedes into its cloister and shuts the door. We hear, now, only the melody of the song as it trails off into a dreamy diminuendo, wordless and indistinct, until presently it is quite beyond the reach of our tensed ears.
“And it is as if a screened picture, presented with brisk action and bright vividness, had begun to lose its sharpness of detail, gradually drawn out of focus, until only one dim figure seems to be moving about: the figure of a growing youth who, as he increased in stature, increased also in favor with God and man. And the picture is too blurred any longer to be seen clearly, and for eighteen years we completely lose sight of him.
“Imagination comes to our aid…”
[Yes; imagination always came to Lloyd Douglas’s aid…]
“…and in fancy we see this stalwart youth embracing every opportunity to acquaint himself with the life of his fellow men. Caravans passed through the little town of Nazareth, and he talked with the travelers about the great world beyond the hills. He learned the duty and dignity of common labor in the little carpenter shop of Joseph. He attended the rabbinical school and became versed in the holy lore of his nation. He endeared himself to the villagers as a great-hearted, magnanimous youth, slow to believe evil, quick to forgive, pure as the snow, sensitive as a flower, in all things fair and above reproach.
“While he waited — waited for the day to come when he might enter upon the unique ministry, the responsibility of which had deepened within his heart as the years passed by. It is now as if the door of the sacristy had opened again. The choir comes forth, in renewal of the epic song. Jesus, the Galilean teacher, is about to enter upon his great commission.”
This is Douglas’s way of introducing the story of Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness. I’ll tell you more about that in my next post.
The Lloyd C Douglas Page 