THE RATCATCHER

How very interesting it is to look into these sermons of my grandfather and find little pearls. This snippet was in an envelope (See my introduction here) with a return address printed as follows:
The Morrow Memorial Home For The Aged
Sparta, Wisconsin
R. Harold Gee, President
711 Division St., La Crosse, Wisconsin

As was his habit, he'd listed on this envelope all of the locations and dates on which the sermon had been given. This was first given in "Salzer. La x" [LaCrosse] on Feb. 28, 1943. It was given fifteen more times (!) in 1944, and was last given the year I was born, 1953. It was given in Sparta, Soldiers Grove, Red Mound, Liberty Pole, Necedah, New Lisbon, Arkansaw, Durand, Neillsville, Reedsburg, North Freedom, and Baraboo, among many others. I do believe that by this time he had district responsibilities which explains the frequent repetition of the sermon in so short a time.

Here is that snippet:

John 17,19 "For their sakes I sanctify myself"

I was born and raised in a small town. I suspect I give some indications of it, for only last week a chicago street car conductor, with a look of disgust, asked me if I did not know which end of a street to get on. For some things however I am still thankful-- for the place of my birth [He was born in the midlands, England]. We knew nearly everybody in our town, and pretty near everything about them. We had a few "Characters". You know what I mean. One was Stephen ART. Not Hart. Everybody called him STIVVY. He was a dirty, Smelly, old batchelor when I was a boy. He made his living by ratcatching. He lived alone--with his dogs and ferrets--in an alley across the tracks. He had but few friends among NICE people--poor fellow. But with his sack on his back and his dogs at his heels he was interesting to boys. One night three or four of us lads went over by his little place, and attracted by the candlelight thro the window decided to peek in. He was kneeling by his bedside saying "Goodnight" to God. I caught the words "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." I tell you that was a great thing for a boy to see and hear. A man reveals his soul when he prays for only God to hear."

For some reason, except for a few handwritten notes, the sermon stops there. On the next page he rewrote the sermon, and it is clearly written for the particular time he lived in, for he refers to the war and to the suffering of Christians in China and Europe. At a later time I'll transcribe this sermon in full for you. Stay tuned.

My Grandfather's Sermons Part II

A few days ago I wrote an introduction here to the topic of a large collection of sermons written and given by my Grandfather Gee, who rose to be a district superintendent of the Methodist Church in Wisconsin in the first half of the last century.

I am a convert to Lutheranism, and as such have had much to think about regarding my religious upbringing. That in itself shouldn't be of much interest to anyone else. But what may be of interest is the history of Christianity in America in the past century. I thought quoting sections of some of my father's father's sermons might give some insight--anecdotally of course--into the life and direction of the church as it fought its way through the bloodiest century in history.

This sermon was first given on December 31, 1910, was given nine more times and last given on January 2, 1943. I've edited for typos. Your mind's ear should be filled with a strong English brogue while reading, for best effect. Be patient: there is more Christ here than I've found in many other of his sermons.

A NEW YEAR MESSAGE

Acts 19.21; Phil. 1.21
"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain."
No apostle of Christianity has made a greater contribution to the establishment of its principles or served with more devotion its wondrous leader than the man who utterd these words. To most of us it is of interest to know and to analyse the peculiar capabilities and endowments and opportunities that have carried men through and made them great. The study of these elements in the life of Paul is always interesting. I can imagine no more profitable a meditation now that we are in the midst of the formation of new resolutions and plans than a study of the most noble resolutions and in fact the all absorbing passions which led to a glorious end, this great apostle to the Gentiles.
Even the briefest analysis of his success will suffice to show us that although many things in the makeup of the man--his keen and cultured intellect, his resolute will, his unfailing devotion, his social standing--all these things stood him good in the struggle. Yet all that was attempted and all that was achieved was the outcome of ONE or TWO persistent hopes that filled his heart and one all absorbing passion that filled his life. Paul's soul was possessed of one passion and not a thousand. He had ONE clear vision and not a dozen hazy, indefinite outlooks. At the outset of his Christian life he came to know what he was after and he bent all that came his way to acheive THAT. And I venture to suggest to you that all that he did to help establish the kingdom was due to the fact that his life, year in and year out, was in the grip of a great desire.
I must see ROME. That was the desire and dream of his life. The one thing he YEARNED to do. For me to live is Christ. That is the one thing he COULD do. The living of the life of the Christ was the practical thing that occupied his soul as he saw his beloved city afar off..."

When I first read this, having already read a number of his sermons, I was a bit shocked and disappointed that the great lead-in would end with "I must see Rome". This was Paul's persistent hope? C'mon, grandpa! Who are you kidding? But, as I discovered, grandpa had something else in mind.

"...But Paul loved Rome because experience had taught him the wisdom of getting to the great centres of Roman life and rule. With his passionate zeal for the spread of the gospel, and his keen eye for true and great opportunities, with his splendid courage that would face freely the perils of the faith, the apostle felt that if he could gain a foothold in the metropolis of the world it would be one of the greatest opportunities that ever man had handled. He longed to preach in those spacious portals the unsearchable riches of Jesus Christ.
And the years of splendid patience and heroic toil passed away, and the old man's hair grew grey and it may be that he thought the the opportunity would never come.
BUT IT DID--AND OH THE PATHOS OF IT.
He entered the city in the charge of a soldier. He was tried after two years and then acquitted, and then after two or three years of liberty Rome seized him again. This time her temper was changed. Paul was held in close captivity until the heedless cruelty of Nero sent this great hero of the cross to martyrdom. THAT WAS HOW PAUL SAW ROME . That was the way in which the dream of the years was realized. And here and now as we stand on the threshold of another year, I want you to bring the desire of your heart and life to the judgement of this noble story.
We have to be devoutly thankful that all our lives are not measured by our experiences. That dull and irksome toil do not interpret the whole of life. A part of life--and a great part--is the unrealized. All we could never be--that to which we have not attained--the place and the condition that is ahead to which we hope to attain: THE DREAMS OF LIFE.
If we are frank with ourselves and with one another we shall confess that as we feel our limitations and the irksomeness of our toil that we all whisper in our heart, "I would see ROME."
And the FIRST thing that I want you to let Saint Paul teach you is this: that [it is] only the religion of Jesus Christ that makes your dreams of Rome worth the dreaming. What is Rome to you???? ALAS to most people it is not far off. It is the place of a thousand pleasures, the scene of unceasing variety, and change, the whirl of new sensations. Rome was the world's great marketplace, its streets like the streets of all great cities were paved with GOLD to the man who had never seen them. If the city of your dreams for 1911 [This is scratched out and"1920" penned in; in a typed copy of this sermon, he has "1915" written] is a city of gaiety, of pleasure, of wealth, of personal self advancement alone, with no desire to reach onto his habitation [both copies say this; I'm not familiar with the phrase] then I do not hesitate to tell you whoever you may be that the desire of your life is unworthy of the heart that contains it. You may say to me, 'Surely if I do my duty nothing else matters.' My time and my resources and my strength may belong to others but surely my dreams are my own. It is true my friends that if you do your duty nothing else does matter, but that is because your dream, your desire, your affections, and hope, your arm and your character all go to the doing of your duty. And so my friends the hopes & plans & dreams of the future must be in the hands of [G]od. And the Rome of your dream must be the habitation 'Jehovah'. We make a mistake of trying to isolate some parts of life. Life is one. Etc.Etc. [He actually wrote this! Remember these are sermon notes, not polished papers. More on that later.]
You cannot give the world some of your hopes and the Saviour all of your service. WHY? ---Because the dream[s] of the future are stamping an impression on the conduct of today. Thanks be to God, that Christianity's great offer to the world is not a splendid ideal, not a perfect ethic, it is a CLEANSED HEART, an INSPIRED WILL, a SURE & CERTAIN HOPE, a new life. If we want to know how St Paul entered Rome we must remember how Saul of Tarsus entered Damascus. "Saul, Saul, why Persecutest thou me?" The eternal love broke this man's heart, slew then and there his selfishness, and turned all his masterful wilfulness into a tender love & obediance. And do you see after that: One fact & only one shone thro his dreams; one voice, and only one spoke to his duties, life was unified. For it was the face & the voice of the Saviour of the world. We praise God for this that when any man, MARK YOU, ANYMAN thus gives himself to JC everything in his life, from his most distant dream to his nearest duty become righted and controlled. .."

Finally we come to it: the sermon is about the cross, and the cross in vocation. He even gives a nod to unlimited atonement! Here is a snippet of the end of the sermon:

"...May we all know that no man can find anything higher than the will of God for him just here & now. Paul reached Rome at last in chains, as a prisoner. If you want to render the greatest service, don't clutch at the crown, but be ready to wear the fetters.
Many a young man in the glamour of his morning time, many a great Roman at the zenith of his power, passed thro the gates of Rome, but the joy they found and the fame they won are forgotten. But still the world remembers one who, after years of toil passed along thro its gates, with the thought in his heart and the fruit of it in his life, "For me to live is Christ"

"Yea, thro life, thro death, thro sorrow, and thro sinning
He shall suffice me, for He hath sufficed;
Christ is the end, for the Christ was the beggining,
Christ the beginning, for the end is Christ"

BUMPER STICKERS, PART ONE

Seen on a Toyota outside of a Whole Foods store in Madison, WI

I Was A Teenaged Blogger

One of the best blogs by a teenager, and I mean that in the most condescending manner possible, is written by Zeke Bartlett, who occasionally is seen dropping by the bookclub with his dad Neil and brother Ethan. Zeke claims he comes for the food, but then why do I have this creepy feeling he also comes...to observe us...?

Here, a snippet from the fifteen-something-year-old, precocious, confessional Lutheran. He uses the third person "bob" to refer to his very own self:

High on God Part I
Wow, Bob must be one serious masochist. For the second time I went to the Calvary Chapel "retreat" (of which I have previously written) to have people do their utmost to brainwash me and turn me into a mindless happyzombie swaying and mumbling to repetitive praise music. Now of course I enjoyed it as I did before, all but the horrible theologyless preachin' and soul-sucking music.
I arrived and threw my things in a tent, hoping that it was the correct one. I spent the next half hour or so wandering around finding people I knew and meeting people I didn't. After a bit we started a game of football and all the testosterone pumped boys ran about tackling each other to the ground, half the time not even caring if that particular person under them had the ball. Of course true, clean fun could not last. Within fifteen minutes the controlling half-adults decided that we couldn't do anything that would help turn us into not-weenies so it declined into girlish touch football.
Eventually we were herded like cattle to the slaughter from the field to the barn/church. There a band (which to them is almost as holy as "pastor dude" himself) began playing horrible, contentless repetitive crap they call "praise music." the sad thing about this particular setting is that the band was actually pretty good. The bass and drums especially were great, taking the occasional flourish to show that they had actually skill and didn't belong with these idiots. At long last we finished and a guy in a pony tail wandered up on stage. He spewed some crap; we prayed the Prayer of the Just ("Lord, we just want to thank you and, just ask your presence here and just...") and then were free to, once again, light things on fire with gasoline.

You know, that third person "Bob" thing still works for me, isn't it strange? And yes, I'll be speaking to him about his unionistic practices. He'll claim he doesn't inhale, you watch.

Zeke's blog also is in the running for one of the coolest names: MENTAL LLAMA

MY GRANDFATHER'S SERMONS

Before my father passed away in 2005, he gave over to me the curatorship--he wouldn't have called it that--of my grandfather's sermons.

Grandpa Gee came over to America from England in the very early years of the last century--he began attending the University of Wisconsin in 1905, majoring in Philosophy. A tradition in our family has it that he wore a top-hat upon disembarking in the New World, not knowing that they were out of fashion here.

While at the university, he began his vocation as a Methodist pastor. This was a mentored vocation: no seminary was expected, available, or required. During the university years, upon a Sunday morning, he would ride the train to Mazomanie, Wisconsin, and conduct the service and preach the sermon in the tiny Methodist church in that sleepy river town. I do not know the content of his theological education, apart from the sermons that I have in my care. But the sermons have provided me with some important insights into my own father's understanding of what Christianity amounted to, and it has been with deeply mixed emotions that I have browsed through them.

The reason for this is the complete lack of the gospel. I have read in vain looking for Christ and salvation in his sermons. The occasional mention of Jesus is almost always in the context of his being a great teacher. But this has given me some insight into my own father's tendency to sum up his faith in the words, "What the hell. I've made mistakes. But I'm basically a good man." Grandpa's sermons have helped me to understand why Dad didn't really understand his faith until he was facing death and coming to realize that being a "good man" was an illusion, a disease for which there is a cure.

And so I read my grandfather's sermons with an historian's eye rather than a grandson's, at least most of the time. I need a little objective distance in my study of them. In the near future, I'll share some of his sermons with you.

There are a few hundred sermons in this collection. Each sermon is housed in an old, yellowing envelope. On the back of the envelope, Grandpa listed the sermon topic at the top, and then the location and date of the many times he gave that particular sermon. For example, under the title New Year's Sermon, Acts 19.21, are the following locations and dates (transcribed as clearly as I can read them):

• Whig Dec 31, 1910
  
• Elk Grove Jan 15, 1911
• Revised whig [?] E G Dec 29, 12
• Blue River }Basswood Feb. 7, 1915
• Cumberland Jan 2, '16
• Barron 12/28/19
• Glenwood City Jan 19, 21
• Mondovi Dec. 30, 1922
• Trempeleau-Centerville- 1.2.1943

As I sift these sermons for nuggets, I'll try to find things to share that are of value, but also things which illustrate Grandpa's theology and his philosophical underpinnings. Stay tuned.

That Sound You Were Hearing Last Week...

...was the sound of millions and millions of pages of the latest Harry Potter book being turned.
My son Jeremy flew from Detroit to Seoul, Korea last Thursday. He said he counted 27 Harry Potter books being read on the trip.

He himself finished reading it as I drove him to Chicago. I'm the only member of the family who is HP Ignorant. But I do enjoy the flame wars going on among Christians as to Harry's influence and True Meaning. Here are three reviews I found supportive: this from Mercatornet, and this from the Boar's Head Tavern, and this REALLY GOOD ONE from Town Hall

LAST OF THE 300 WIN PITCHERS?

Tom Glavine of the Mets went for his 300th win last night against the Milwaukee Brewers. He didn't get the win though he pitched well. The Brewers Suppan surprised me by pitching nearly as well, and the 'Skis went on to win it in the 13th inning, 4-2.

"The thing that makes that number [300 wins] so great is that you think about guys winning 15-20 games a year, that's the top pitcher in baseball," former Yankee pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre says. "You have to win 15 games 20 times. My God. When you break it down like that, man alive, that would make anybody's arm hurt."

Winning 300 games is the big news, and Glavine is being spoken of as the latest (barring an injury) and perhaps LAST pitcher to reach this Hall of Fame goal. I happen to know he'll win his 300th game in his next start against the Cubs, but that isn't what I want to tell you about.

What is really interesting is speculation that he may be the last to reach 300. There is talk that the new wins bar is 250. Read this to get the in-depth scoop on why that is.

Why are modern day pitchers not likely to win 300 games in their careers?
The article cites these reasons:

• Five man rotations, which take starts away from pitchers.
• Large, specialized bullpens so that starters don't go as deeply into games as they once did.
  
• Big salaries, which may dull the competitive edge. Mike Mussina, the great pitcher for the Yanks, thinks this has quite an impact.
• The development of the disabled list. Some old timers observe that pitchers in the past would pitch through pain rather than getting benched.
• You can't ignore the steroid era. Hitters are stronger, with better reflexes, etc. The causes of this are debatable, but only just.

My wife's cousin Danny Naulty, who pitched for the Twins and also won a World Series ring with the Yankees in the 90's, used to tell us just how impossibly hard it is being a pitcher in the modern era, particularly in the American League with its Designated Hitter. The hitters are just so very good: better equipped, better trained, with more resources (batting cages, video, stats and breakdowns of opposing pitchers' strengths, etc).

What active pitchers have a shot at 300 wins? Here is the list; tell me what you think their chances are:

• Randy Johnson 284 wins
• Pedro Martinez 206 wins
• Andy Pettite 192 wins
• Curt Schilling 213 wins
• Mike Mussina 244 wins