Pilgrimage of Joy. . . No. 44

DRAMA AT HARVARD
W. Carl Ketcherside

In 1958, Erskine Caldwell wrote in the July issue of Atlantic Monthly these words: “I think you must remember that a writer is a simple-minded person to begin with and go on that basis. He’s not a great mind. He’s not a great thinker, he’s not a great philosopher, he’s a story-teller.” I take a lot of comfort from that observation and rather suspect I am a living example of it, although not too well. If one had to be a great philosopher, this story would wither on the vine.

I began the year of 1969 with a trip to Miami, Florida, where my good brother, Robert Shaw, was ministering to the First Christian Church. It was a Disciples of Christ congregation located squarely in the downtown area. The building was a huge and imposing structure. In former days it had been fIlled to capacity in the fall and winter. The preacher in those days had specialized and speculated on prophetic interpretation and “snow-birds” from the north filled the place. There were almost as many on Sunday night as on Sunday morning. Many of the wealthy and sophisticated northerners came to know each other and looked forward to seeing each other at the church when the first flakes began to fly in Michigan and Ohio.

But the scene had changed. Cubans had flocked into Florida and settled in the city center. The old stores moved out and Spanish-speaking people surrounded the church location. Many of the new arrivals were Catholic. Many others had no religious affiliation at all. The audience got down to about 250. They made a little huddle in the midst of the great structure designed to seat fifteen hundred. They talked with nostalgia about the great days of yesteryear and dreamed rosy dreams of the past. Some of them were still possessed of courage. They wanted to relate to their changing world.

I held sessions every night during which I sought to speak with encouragement and “strengthen the things which remained.” The church was suffering with internal pressures. The question of restructure troubled them. Brother Shaw was a conservative in the truest sense. Each morning I held a meeting during which I sought to answer the questions of those who were present. Men came from the Independent Christian Churches and from non-instrument Churches of Christ. Some of the questions were particularly touchy.

I recommended that all those who wanted to maintain the faith as it was once delivered exchange addresses and start a little paper to be circulated among all, keeping each other informed as to their plans. I suggested at a Minister’s Breakfast that there was surely some areas in which all who loved Jesus could work together. I further suggested that the preachers of all groups meet and eat together each month and discuss the mutual problems in such a great national “playground.” I was speaker at a luncheon at the Exchange Club one day. I spoke of the need of the recapture of a moral dynamic for America. It was pleasing to see the response.

The following month I was back in Central Florida for the Annual Spring Spiritual Clinic which was held on successive nights in Orlando, Cocoa and Daytona. As my policy was, following my speech in each of these places, I invited questions from the audience. As was generally the case this proved to be the most interesting feature of all. Some of those in the audience had evidently been saving up their questions and finally found a chance to use them.

I next went to the School of Christian Living in Louisville, Kentucky. Each night the chief of police and myself addressed the audience upon the spiritual and ethical phases of the Christian walk. During the five days I was there I spoke 17 times. I addressed Circle-K at Kentucky Southern College, spoke to 1100 students at Seneca High School; to the entire student body at Old Kentucky Home High School, in Bardstown; and to the Junior High School at Boston. It was a real pleasure to share with these young people, some of whom were very brilliant and perceptive, and give them hope. It must be remembered that the Vietnam War was still going on, the draft was a way of life for young men, and there was a genuine struggle in their emerging consciousness as to what was right and what was wrong.

I addressed a noon luncheon of the Kiwanis Club at the Executive Inn, and spoke to the faculty and students at the College of the Scriptures. This was a black school primarily operated to train preachers of the good news. I met and shared with them. During the time I was in Louisville I was on a one hour open line program over WFIA. The listeners zero in on anyone who tries to answer their questions. I enjoyed the give-and-take of it.

I rode one night with the police. I reported at headquarters and was assigned to a squad car until midnight. Then we returned to headquarters and I rode with two other men until 3:00 a.m. It was astonishing the different kinds of calls that were received. I was allowed to go in with the police. We refereed family fights, picked up sodden drunks, investigated a robbery, and broke up a gang fight at an all-night eatery. I came to have a tremendous respect for the “Men in blue.” All with whom I rode were young and a part of “the new breed” who deserve a lot of credit.

March 26-28 found me at Scottsbluff, Nebraska, at Platte Valley Christian College, where I spoke five times. The audience came from long distances and people were present from Colorado, Wyoming and Nebraska. While I was there I granted an interview over the radio at Station KOLT, and another over television KSTF-TV. In addition to this I held a dialogue session at Nebraska Western College. Many of the students were from farms and ranches in the area. I found them alive to what was happening in the world but generally more conservative than their counterparts back east.

On the last day of my stay there, news was flashed over the wires, of the death of Dwight David Eisenhower, at the age of 78. He returned from the European theater of war as a hero to become the 34th president of the United States. The nation mourned his passing and Nell and I went to see the train bearing his body back to Abilene as it came through our city. It was swathed in black bunting. Ike was buried close to his simple old-fashioned childhood home. His mother had been a Bible-reading woman who was opposed to all armed conflict. Her son had planned D-Day with its frightful toll of life.

It was about this time I received a call from Dr. Krister Stendahl, inviting me to Harvard University to deliver an address before the Divinity School on the theme “Toward A Conservative Ecumenism.” I accepted and on April 7 appeared in Braun Room at the school where the lecture was to be given. I was to speak for thirty minutes, to be followed by three reactors to my speech. Then I would have fifteen minutes to reply, following which the audience would question me for thirty minutes. The only catch was that the audience did not want to stop when the hour was up.

The three reactors were all men of stature and prominence in the theological world. Dr. Stendahl, who was first, was Dean of the Divinity School and a recognized leader in the World Council of Churches. He had, but a short time before, delivered a position paper at the convention in Uppsala, Sweden. Dr. William Robert Hutchison, was Professor of the History of Religion in America. He was born near Washington, Pennsylvania, where Thomas Campbell lived and wrote “The Declaration Address.” Dr. Hutchison knew the restoration movement topside and bottom. Starting out in life as a Presbyterian, he had since become a Quaker, a position which he found more comfortable because of the historic emphasis for peace. The third reactor was James Valentine Fisher, a Ph.D. candidate, and a brilliant student. He was the son of Chaplain Fisher who had arranged for me to be at Langley Air Force Base.

I began with a definition of ecumenism which lifted it out of the political wrangle in which it had become engaged, and separated it from the various theological interpretations placed upon it. I then showed the extent, nature, place and purpose of the unity we seek. I affirmed that under the prayer of Jesus, whom I recognized as Lord, we were obligated to seek the unity of all those who believe in Him through the apostolic testimony. Therefore, any attempt at a confederation of so-called world religions was not only foreign to the design of heaven but would do despite to the divine purpose and plan “which was to unite all things in one, in Christ Jesus.”

Dr. Stendahl commended my distinction between kerygma and didache, and pointed out the “initial message to the world was referred to as the gospel, or good news, as distinguished from the doctrine, in which all of us are obligated to grow as a natural effect of our acceptance of the message concerning Jesus. His prime objection was a fear that, in our attempt to get rid of traditional forms and fixtures, we would be ensnared into the common trap of devising other structures which would enslave men more than those from which we had escaped. Dr. Hutchison traced the course of the restoration movement and its multitudinous divisions, ticking them off on his fingers, and expressed the maxim that “by their fruits ye shall know them.” He felt that the only thing we could expect was more division, and not more unity. He thought it was like inviting a fox into a chicken house to unite the chickens. He might accomplish his purpose but Dr. Hutchison did not relish the idea of how and where it would be done.

Dr. Fisher objected that too little had been said about the pneuma, or Spirit, as the uniting power. My reply to all of this was that the men had preconceived what they thought I would say and had already formed their reactions before hearing it. Consequently, they had to give their speeches whether they were appropriate or not. I had not appeared as a defender of the restoration movement, and had not even mentioned it. I was there as an apologist for a conservative ecumenism and wherever it took me I was willing to go regardless of my past, just as Dr. Hutchison was no longer a Presbyterian.

Present for the confrontation was the Secretary of the Archdiocese of Boston. I met her before the encounter and she told me that the archdiocesan council was greatly concerned with modern trends and had sent her to glean what I had to say about a more conservative ecumenism. She took copious notes while I was speaking and again when I answered questions. It would have been interesting to know what transpired when she reported back to the council.

The Boston Globe had a reporter present also and the write-up in the paper next morning was quite lengthy and gave a lot of coverage. It was made to appear as a debate between Dr. Stendahl and myself, an idea I had earnestly sought to avoid. The report pretty well ignored what the other speakers had said, primarily because, as I suspect, the reporter did not know what they were talking about.

The student body was composed of some fine dedicated students who regarded the Bible as the norm. I could strengthen them. But it was the day of revolt and some who were present challenged everything held sacred in the past. They worshiped at the shrine of the god of the Now and paid homage to every freakish idea that was deemed to be new. I felt a real sense of compassion for churches which would be saddled with these restless young swaggering bullies.