Part 1

Transcriber's note:

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.

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_Nine O'Clock Talks_

by the REV. FREDERIC B. KELLOGG Chaplain to Episcopal Students in Cambridge, Massachusetts

Christ Church Cambridge, Massachusetts

FOREWORD

_These short sermons by the Chaplain to Episcopalian Students in Cambridge are collected here for their interest to Christians of all ages and as a reminder of the important religious work being carried on in colleges. It is a truism that the years of college are crucial for students; it is then that their interests become clear and the direction of their life's work takes shape. But for Christians, education involves more than the training of the mind and the acquisition of knowledge; it involves, like every other phase of life, enlistment of the will and dedication of the spirit. Awareness of this fact has given rise increasingly in recent years to questions concerning the proper place of religious teaching in the secular modern college and university. Without entering on that question here, one may be quite certain that a chief force in the religious life of students will always be associations for devotion and discussion such as those conducted by Mr. Kellogg under the auspices of the Bishop Rhinelander Memorial for Student Work. During his nearly ten years of service he has influenced by precept and example literally thousands of students. These sermons thus carry a double meaning. In addition to their own high value as Christian interpretations, they are tokens of a necessary work to be done._

JOHN H. FINLEY, JR.

Eliot House Harvard University

"_In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth._"

So the Bible opens, so the world began. The historian, Arnold Toynbee, has shown us how many beginnings there have been since that time, how kingdoms rise and fall, one civilization succeeding another as new life and inspiration take the place of death and complacency. There never will be an end of beginnings or of ends so long as the world endures.

A study of this historical cycle shows that mankind has never lost its hope for a deus ex machina, a God who will save men at the last moment from the effects of their own bad beginnings. It makes a good story to tell how the Gods from Olympus intervened on the behalf of their favorites on the plains of Troy but it is disastrous when men mistake this day-dream for reality. Yet at the end of each age there is to be seen a frantic scrambling for divine favor, a scurrying to the churches when the Goths threatened the Roman Empire, for example, or a bull market for indulgences as the Renaissance replaced medieval society.

Men are forever trying to substitute faith in a last resort God for faith in the "beginning God".

But seldom if ever has the substitution been successful. Once an avalanche of events has been loosed by the criminality or carelessness of men, God will not intervene until the tumult and the shouting have died down, and his still small voice can once more be heard.

No one can mistake the fact that we are at the beginning of a new era now, an era in which events will happen more quickly and more drastically than in any period in history. And these events may be either for good or for evil depending upon whether we decide now to follow the "beginning God" rather than to postpone our faith until fear impels a grasping for a God of last resort, a deus ex machina which does not exist.

To follow the true God, however, the God who is in the beginning, means a sharp change in policy; it means junking our old habits of procrastination and reliance upon self while the going is good, for then is the time that inexorable events pile up to avalanche proportions. It means starting right now to refer our decisions to him for advice with confidence in his universal judgment and never-ceasing care.

A great opportunity is open to us, for I do not doubt that the first really successful age will take place when God is invited to enter the human scene at the very outset and thereby to form the pattern for the years that follow. It is a crucial opportunity, for the neighborliness and love that proceed from him are no longer optional courses but are the very conditions of survival.

Why not therefore make up our minds now that we will do everything in our power this year, this month, today, to introduce the God of the beginning to the problems of the now?

CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR'S

If you ever examine the early Chinese vases in the Fogg Museum or elsewhere, you will note that many of them have little cracks in the glaze which run every whichway. You might conclude that these were caused by antique methods of firing the pottery, or are just the result of old age. Actually these cracks, which are known as crackle in the glaze, were made on purpose. For it seems that these vases were often given as New Year's presents, and since New Year's is celebrated by the Chinese in the spring, the crackle was made to represent the breaking-up of the ice on the rivers and lakes, the change from the hard and fastness of winter to the movement of spring.

We miss something important in our symbolic thinking by not celebrating Christmas and New Year's at a time when nature herself takes a new lease on life. It is more difficult for us to realize the possibility of the breaking up of the old and the forming of the new when the ice is thickening on the ponds and the snow is driving deeper on the hills. It is hard enough as it is to become renewed in the spirit of our minds.

We try instead to capture newness by thinking of a child, a symbolic child that appears on the covers of the Saturday Evening Post and the Ladies' Home Journal. Dressed in the scantiest of clothing, his chubby face covered with a broad grin, the spirit of the New Year ushers us into a new calendar. And in the hurry and excitement of the time it may have slipped our minds that only a week before we recalled a real child, a child that once was born in fact and ever since has been reborn in the souls of men.

I wonder if we ever associate these two children and ponder the meaning of each, for in a way they have a joint significance. The child of New Year's means new opportunities, new openings for a world of men sick and tired of the old. Those who would live by this child alone, however, soon run into depressing frustration for they have forgotten that new things do not come easily to old men--men that are old in spirit of whatever age. They find that new opportunities can only be met and made use of by people who have a spring of newness within them; they realize that here is where newness counts most, down at the depths of the soul. And perhaps they discover--God grant that they do for it is the greatest discovery that a man can make--perhaps they discover that this is the meaning of the child of a week before.

Those old words about dying to sin and rising to newness of life, of being born again like Nicodemus, or at least the reality within those words, may of a sudden catch hold of a man and shake him to the core--shake out the old egocentric habits, break up the shoddy ways of thinking, that he may be regenerate and born anew of the Christ within him.

We are reminded annually on Christmas Day that a new creature is possible, a new creature with fresh reactions and an unburdened soul. We are reminded of this every time we come to the Holy Communion and hear Christ's words, "Come unto me all ye that travail and are heavy laden and I will refresh you."

But response may be withheld and the opportunity passes us by. W.H. Auden states the only too often repeated case in his _Christmas Oratorio_:

"Once again, As in previous years we have seen the actual Vision and failed To do more than entertain it as an agreeable Possibility, once again we have sent Him away, Begging though to remain His disobedient servant The promising child who cannot keep His word for long."

That is one possibility, merely to regard the child of Christmas as a symbol, like the child of New Year's--two fabulous children who have no meaning once the holiday season is past. Or we can see in one Child the very reality of newness, a newness that we can have and use for this New Year's and every New Year's to come--the spirit of God, eternally new.

"_For we have seen his star in the East and are come to worship him._"

But stars that lead travellers in a fixed direction and then come and stand over houses cannot be identified astronomically--so might comment a pedestrian critic of the story of the Three Wise Men. Furthermore, the Magi if they ever did in fact exist were nothing but Babylonian priests that were versed in astrology. Astrology! we all know that scientific astronomy has long since relegated that superstitious practice to the archives of the fantastic.

Yet I wonder if one of the deepest troubles of our time is that men do not see stars that lead travellers in a fixed direction. Is not the Day of the Lord long overdue when, as he said through the prophet Joel, "It shall come to pass that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions."

Visions of peace and a world made new--what greater need today has the strife-ridden world than this?

It may be just poetic fancy in the Epiphany season that points to a striking resemblance between the Three Wise Men following a star to the birthplace of the Prince of Peace and the delegates to the assembly of the United Nations coming from distant lands to try and make their dream of peace come true. They have seen the star at last, they have followed it to the resting place--so far all is well. But will they go through with the whole story?

Have they come primarily to get or to give? Will the actions of each nation be governed purely by self-interest, to gain security, to insure colonial possessions, to learn new secrets of power for national aggrandizement? or will they instead, open their treasures and present unto him who is none other than the spirit of world brotherhood their gifts--one gold, another frankincense, another myrrh? For they have much to offer, ancient culture, glorious traditions, scientific knowledge, vast resources both material and spiritual, all things that can be used for the unlimited good of all if shared, but which if hoarded, and thus envied, can work their utter destruction.

Will they come in a spirit of humility or will they come with pride in their own might and sovereignty? The Magi were wise enough to fall down and worship the Prince of Peace even though he was only just born. Are the nations equally wise to recognize the presence of embryonic peace and see in it greater import, greater worth, than in anything each one singly has to offer?

Have they the courage of their convictions? It will be so today as it was before: "When Herod the King had heard these things he was troubled and all Jerusalem with him." The powers of isolationism, in all its forms of non-cooperation, suspicion, financial reaction, will be sorely troubled by the Prince of Peace and will do all in their power to kill him while still a child. And they will use all the deception that Herod employed: "Go and search diligently for the young child and when you have found him bring me word again that I may come and worship him also." Go and find out all you can about the intents and operations of the other nations so that we can use them to our advantage. Go and expose the futility of cooperation. Go make mistakes so that we can repudiate our delegates and once more return to reliance upon self and national security.

Finally, will they depart into their own country another way or will they return to Herod? Nor will it be of any more use than it was with the old League of Nations if when they return they do not lead the fight at home to mobilize the forces for peace in their own countries rather than compromise with Herod. This of course they cannot do unless they have the determined support of every one of us. We must not only be ready to receive them with eagerness but we must meanwhile be following the same star as best we can, seeing the same visions, learning how to give and not just to get, practicing the same humility, exerting the same courage of our convictions. World peace cannot be accomplished merely by delegates any more than the Prince of Peace could reign with the help of three wise men alone.

"_Then was Jesus led up of the spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil._"

Let no one think for a moment that the devil is a fool. He used the same ingenuity with our Lord that he has shown from the day that Adam fell to the present time. And one of his favorite methods of attack reveals itself here--he waits until a man is in a spiritual wilderness before he presents the greatest temptation, for he knows that it is in loneliness that most people succumb.

The temptation may be the one which our Lord faced--to try to achieve spiritual ends by worldly means. Or it may be less subtle--to give in to degrading thoughts or actions. In whichever one of the infinite forms the enticement of the devil may appear, we are most vulnerable when cut off from companionship.

It is possible to be a romantic about temptation, to take the attitude of Kipling's poem "If", to glory in your own self-sufficiency when all about you are losing their heads. Or one can be a Stoic and grimly bear the vicissitudes of life by oneself, scorning the assistance of others as a sign of weakness.

But the Christian solution is otherwise. It points out that the fight with temptation is generally a negative affair, a rear guard action. What we want to discover is the most efficient method of overcoming it in order to be set free for more positive and fruitful work. And the plain fact is that temptation can best be overcome with the help of others. To resist this assistance in time of need is not a virtue but a form of spiritual pride. When we pray "Lead us not into temptation" we mean at least in part, don't let the devil get us off by ourselves, for he has an easy time picking off stragglers. But he is completely frustrated by men and women who hold together in the bond of fellowship and understanding.

The very same thing is true of suffering. Indeed there is a close connection between the two. There is acute suffering in resisting temptation. And there is temptation in the endurance of suffering--temptation to wallow in self-pity and despair. It may be that misery loves company for its own sake, but it is equally the case that suffering can best be dealt with in the companionship of others. Why is it that such extraordinary acts of fortitude in plain can take place in wartime? Why?--because men are fighting side by side and are upheld by the esprit de corps that is generated by a common struggle.

What has all this got to do with us, you may wonder. We don't have any temptations that seem too great to handle by ourselves, nor do we have to endure intense suffering. Perhaps so, but the chances are that we won't always be so fortunate and we can never tell when it may happen. If we don't learn how to handle the present smaller trials and temptations we may be overcome by the larger ones when they come.

So I suggest that you use this Lent to learn some lessons. And the first lesson is to realize your common humanity--to perceive how valuable people are to you and you to them. In the time of temptation and suffering you will not hesitate to turn to others if you have made a practice of being close to others when the going is good.

Remember too that by overcoming trouble in your own life you gain new and great powers to help others through their dark periods. You then have sympathy and understanding of a kind which alone comes from suffering and you have the fibre of victory that comes only from the transcending of temptation.

Finally, realize the constant presence of God. He will be your companion even when all else fails:

"If I climb up into heaven thou art there If I go down to hell thou are there also. If I take the wings of the morning and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea Even there also shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me."

Temptation and suffering cannot be avoided but they can be beaten by you and through you in the company of your fellow men and with the upholding presence of God.

PALM SUNDAY

When Jesus rode into Jerusalem on the first Palm Sunday he must have been in great suspense. Would he be recognized in his true colors? Jesus came as king, but not the kind of king the people expected. Would the real meaning of his entrance into the city be recognized or would he again be misunderstood as he had been so often before, even by his closest friends?

The crucial question was one of recognition. Would the real meaning be seen, would the signs be read aright.

That is why Jesus spoke with such concern about signs and the way they should be read. "Now learn a parable of the fig tree," he said, "when his branch is yet tender and putteth forth leaves you know that summer is nigh." Signs like that in nature are unmistakable. But when it comes to sizing up a man and his meaning they are far more complex. Then real perception must be used, "for there shall arise false Christs and false prophets and shall shew great signs and wonders insomuch that if it were possible they shall deceive the very elect." How many of us spoke enthusiastically of Mussolini because Italian trains began running on time and beggars disappeared from the steps of cathedrals? How many good people were duped by Franco merely because he proclaimed allegiance to the church and Christianity? How many well meaning people are fooled by the devil in all his guises?

And the reverse side of the picture has its equally discouraging aspects. Great men live and die, unrecognized and misunderstood. Men of good will are persecuted and put to death. The greatest and best of all men rode into Jerusalem and in less than a week he was hanging from a cross. The perversity of the human race seems equalled only by its foolishness.

The inhabitants of Jerusalem could at least plead ignorance. The signs of the meaning of Jesus were not obvious. True, the prophet had written before in the Book of Zechariah to be on the watch for such an event. "Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion, shout O daughter of Jerusalem. Behold, thy king cometh unto thee; he is just and having salvation; lowly and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass."

Jesus acquiesced in this prophetic symbolism and some did recognize him for what he was--the spiritual King, the Messiah of God. A few but only a few saw the meaning of the signs.

But since that time how can man plead ignorance? The gospel has been preached in every nation of the world and has been written in a thousand languages. Basilicas, cathedrals, and monasteries have glorified him in wood and stone. The greatest artists have painted him, the greatest authors have written about him. And yet if Christ came again to one of the modern Jerusalems would the effects be much different even though we have had two thousand years to learn of him and know his ways? We have proclaimed the magnificence of our reception but have we ever really received him? Could he not say the same thing in truth as he beheld the city and wept over it: "if thou hadst known, even thou at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace." He would stand about the same chance of recognition as King today as he did then, for we too are looking in the wrong direction. They looked for a mighty man at the head of an army or a political party. We look for a Christ in pomp and circumstance in power and great glory. Perhaps then on this Palm Sunday we should try looking in the place where he was found before, and will always be found. Quietly waiting outside the city of our hearts, waiting for our recognition and acceptance. "Behold, thy king cometh unto thee; he is just and having salvation; lowly and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass."

EASTER

Christ the Lord is risen today. Alleluia! The purple veil is lifted from the Cross, the Altar, bare through Lent, is now adorned with flowers, for the agony of Good Friday has given way to the rejoicing of the Resurrection. Joyful people crowd the churches to proclaim the yearly rediscovered fact that Christ has opened the way through darkness into light and has turned man's sorrow into gladness. Christ the Lord is risen today. Alleluia.

But for the thoughtful, I wonder if there isn't another theme that runs in a minor key throughout the Easter music. I wonder if Easter isn't for many a day of joyous farewells. Christ has risen to sit at the right hand of the throne of God and we glory in that fact; but don't we feel like saying with Thomas, "Lord, we know not whither thou goest and how can we know the way." There may be many mansions in the house of God but they seem so very remote. Even our Lord's assurance that he is the way, the truth and the life does not quite fill the place in our hearts left hollow by his departure.

For forty days and nights he has been among us sharing our humanity, its problems and its pains. He has been with us in anxiety, in sleeplessness, in sorrow. He has been so human, indeed, that we have forgotten his descent. We are not prepared to lose our old familiar friend.

It may be that in normal times, by which we mean in thoughtless times, his absence is not greatly felt or is soon forgotten. But who is there among us now that does not feel the burden of human war and peace? Who is there that has not needed friendship to take the place of loss, that has not looked for counsel and strength beyond the limits of his own life?

And for these, the Lord has been a present help in time of trouble. He has been a man among men, by our side, to lead us on our way.

Now Easter comes, our Lord has risen. Christ has become King, a God of Gods. Yet here we remain, we haven't changed, our problems are the same, our needs the same.

"Love's redeeming work is done, fought the fight the battle won," we sing. But there is still the overtone of sadness in the Easter music which might even become a note of irony. Love's work is done? The battle won? Not in our world it isn't, far from it. We'd better postpone Easter till better times are come. Lent has meaning now, one long unswerving Lent, with discipline and hard work.

But wait a moment. We see the veil is lifted from the Cross this Easter day, and now the cross stands clear and shadowless upon the Altar. Does that signify the end of suffering, or is there here an Easter meaning for these times more potent and impelling than ever Lent has brought? It is said that Constantine the Great, returning from his victory over Maxentius, saw in the sky these words, "In hoc signo vinces," and thereafter he placed the Cross upon his standard. The cross is brighter still on Easter for it is an earnest that yet again through its sign we shall conquer.

The cross reminds us too that though he is risen, he is in no way further from us than before. He still bears upon himself the marks of the cross--the marks of Lent made meaningful by Easter.

The cross has by no means disappeared, rather it has been vindicated, death has not vanished but it has been overcome, suffering will continue but it can be transformed. Let us then rejoice and be exceeding glad this Easter of all Easters for the way of the cross has proved to be the way of Life and Victory.

"_But the comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance._"