A Tale of Two Ships: What the Titanic and a Ship That Sailed 300 Years before Her Can Teach Us

April 14, 20121 Comment

She was the largest ship in the world. In fact, she was the largest movable object man had ever made. Over eleven stories tall and almost a sixth of a mile long, she dwarfed the seaside buildings of Belfast where she first arose like a colossus and where her proud craftsmen boasted of her to their grandchildren. Newspapers the world over took note of her and of her maiden voyage from Southampton, England, on April 10, 1912. She was, they said, “the promise and pride of a new age.” Her name was Titanic.

She carried the best of nearly everything. Her staterooms, ballrooms, restaurants and fifty-foot wide promenades were the talk of Europe. She shone with the best art, books, furniture, and even gold bathroom fixtures. She boasted a gym complete with exercise bikes, a rowing machine, a swimming pool, and a squash court. She even carried a Renault car, the finest hunting dogs available, four cases of opium, and luggage bulging with such valuables that one woman’s suitcases were estimated  as worth more than $177,000.

Her passengers were a cross-section of the age, from the mainly Scots-Irish passengers below in third class to the stunningly wealthy many floors above. The rich included John Jacob Astor, Macy’s founder Isidor Straus and a millionaire playboy named Guggenheim. President Taft’s military advisor, the music teacher to Theodore Roosevelt’s children, a squash pro, a movie star, a thief, several gamblers, the Titanic’s architect, and hundreds of far more common people were aboard. The Titanic, despite her name, was the world in miniature.

“Madam, God himself could not sink this ship.” It was something a steward had said. Hundreds heard him on the day most passengers came aboard. Several couples were discussing the boast over a late drink one evening when it suddenly felt as though the wind had picked up. It was 11:40 p.m. on April 14. Titanic had collided with an iceberg on her starboard side. It left a twelve foot gash.

Ships God can’t sink don’t need their full complement of lifeboats, so there were only enough for 1,178 of the 2,207 passengers. As the shrill alarms sounded throughout the warm, sleepy ship, the cruel reality settled first into the mind of the captain and then his crew: hundreds of people were about to die.

Two hours later—after panic sent half empty lifeboats out on the oil-black sea and a few men posed as women to save their own lives and husbands lied to get their wives to leave them–the ship, which had been slowly sinking nose-down, suddenly groaned and lifted its twenty-three foot propellers high in the air as it slid into its grave.

Titanic. We seem unable to finish with her story. A hundred years later she still fascinates and speaks to us as a symbol of pride, folly and of the fragility of man.

She begs comparison with a second ship that left from the same port and crossed the same ocean 300 years before in 1620. This ship was a far humbler offering. No larger than a volleyball court and but a few stories high, she would have fit completely inside one of Titanic’s ornate ballrooms. She leaked profusely, carried only 103 souls and allowed little space for supplies. 

Her passengers suffered. One third were children. One was a pregnant woman. Most had never been on the open seas. They endured violent North Atlantic storms and piercing, icy winds. It was a terrifying, bone-breaking season in hell, made worse by incessant vomiting and screaming. It lasted sixty-six days.

Yet this more unlikely ship, named The Mayflower, arrived. She has become a symbol of persecution, sacrifice and suffering turned redemptive by a people’s faith. She carried the people we now call “the Pilgrims.”

It is the tale of two ships. One should easily have completed its maiden voyage, the other—an old wine barge—would have raised few questions had she sunk. The one carried the wealth of an age, the other a people harried from their nation for their faith. The greater was launched with a dismissal of God, those of the lesser looked to God as their hope.

The Titanic and The Mayflower as symbols have been made to serve many agendas, have been fitted into widely varying schemes. They were, at the least, two ships carrying two different types of people for two very different purposes. None of this determined what happened, of course. But that it did happen—that the mighty may fail, that the downtrodden may eventually succeed, that neither escape suffering, that neither are without flaw, and that God may play a role—teaches us what we need to know.

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What Sarah Palin—And Every Leader—Needs to Know, Part III

March 26, 2012Comment

As you’ll see from my previous two blogs, I’m excerpting a few pages from the book on Sarah Palin I wrote with David Holland. In our last chapter, we made some recommendations to Governor Palin. They apply to all leaders. With Game Change now playing on HBO and talk of a brokered Republican Convention involving Palin growing more serious every day, it is a good time to ponder her leadership style and apply what we learn to our own way of living. By the way, you can order the book here.

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#5: Critics are not enemies.

We have all had this experience. We are listening to a speaker who has been stung by a critical word. He is hurt, enflamed. He uses his speech to strike back. He hits hard and does not let up. But he is talking past us. We do not know what has been said and we do not understand why we are subjected to this angry tirade. Moreover, rather than being impressed with the persuasiveness of his argument, we leave more impressed with how small and vain this man is. He has lost us, and all because he could not rise above, could not let criticism go unanswered and unavenged.

It was the great missionary statesman E. Stanley Jones who said, “My critics are the unpaid guardians of my soul.” It is a truth that would serve Sarah Palin well. There is wisdom to be heard in the mouth of one’s enemies and she would be well served by knowing this. Critics hold up a mirror we would not otherwise see, allow us a clarified view of ourselves that we cannot get any other way. We have to discriminate, of course, and pick out the diamonds of wisdom from the dunghill of hate. Still, there is truth to be had and the wise leader learns to face criticism, discover the truth in it, and change accordingly. It distinguishes greatness of soul from vanity and rage, carefully crafted performance from genuine largeness of heart. Sarah Palin is capable of these, but only if she refuses to be embittered by those who strike at her.

 

#6: The poor and the needy are conservative concerns, too.

It is an oddity of modern politics that while conservatives believe they have the solutions for the poor, they seldom mention them. Conservatives prefer to speak in general terms about a healthy economic, about opportunities to achieve, and about the character that leads to prosperity, but rarely do they mention the poor or the underprivileged. It is almost as though they think that to mention the poor is to play into liberal hands. What they end up doing, though, is losing the battle in the popular mind by yielding the high ground of compassion and benevolence to their opponents.

Sarah Palin knows better. She comes from a family that, while far from poverty, fought hard to meet its needs. Both her parents worked a variety of jobs to serve the family and the Heath obsession with hunting was about more than sport. It was about feeding six hungry mouths. Then, when she married, she lived on a blue color workman’s salary and often struggled to make ends meet. In her family experience and in decades of life in the Mat-Su Valley, she has seen want and poverty and she knows the interplay of injustice and low character that can lead to both. She can connect these issues to conservative answers in a manner that few politicians today are able to achieve.

She should break out of the Republican manner of years and become a champion of conservative solutions for the poor. She should reintroduce words like “poverty,” “needy” and “hurting” to the Republican lexicon and prove the power of non-statist solutions for one of the desperate needs of our time. As a mother, as an oil field worker’s wife, and as a woman who has been willing to know and love the destitute, she is qualified to do—and perhaps courageous enough to do—what most politicians on the right are not: challenge the political left on the home turf of underprivileged America.

 

#7 Know your boundaries.

Sarah Palin is a woman of scripture and so she knows the pleasant words of Psalm 16: “My boundaries have fallen in pleasant places.” They are words that suggest the contentment, the effectiveness and the peace of living within ones range of abilities. It is a truth she should grasp anew as she steps on the stage of whatever is next for her in life.

Most people who become prominent reached their position by challenging barriers. They are African-Americans who defied racism or women who charged glass ceilings or the many who overcame some potentially defining flaw in their lives. They are not cowards and they are not weaklings. They have known their battles.

Yet the one of the great lessons of their victories should be the power of concentrated force. You do not break through by applying strength broadly. You penetrate at a defined point. You force through at a pinprick and then you broaden once you have broken out to the other side.

Many who have reached prominence have not learned this. They interpret their victories as an affirmation of their strength in all things. Rather than learning their lane and gaining a clear understanding of their boundaries, they overreach and attempt what is not theirs to achieve.

Sarah Palin has done this. She is a gifted woman who has had much success and this could leave her with the sense that she should charge Sarah Barracuda-like into realms that are not hers. It would not serve her well, as her embarrassing television interviews have shown. Yet, if she could take stock of her strengths and gain a clear understanding of what she is not gifted to do, she could engage the challenges of American society where she can do the most good.

The alternative is a messiah complex, what Harry Truman called, “Potomac Fever.” It is believing oneself the answer to all things, assuming that there is no realm which should go unchallenged. But this leads to defeat and distraction from the few arenas in which victory could be sweet and meaningful.

There is good to come from Sarah Palin’s presence on our national stage, but only if she confines herself to those realms for which her God, her life and her principles have prepared her.

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What Sarah Palin—And Every Leader—Needs to Know (Part II)

March 20, 2012Comment

As you can read in my previous blog, when I saw HBO’s Game Change about Sarah Palin, it reminded me of the book David Holland and I wrote in 2010. We finished that book with a chapter listing some principles Palin needed—and needs—to know. I offered two of those principles last blog—and here are three more. They are good principles for every leader to ponder and apply.

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#3: Do not run away from Faith. Articulate it.

It is conventional wisdom in some quarters that politicians should de-emphasize their religious lives in deference to a secular society. This reasoning contends that the public wants to know that their leaders have a meaningful faith, thus assuring lofty values and morality, but that they don’t want that faith to be too visible. This view has led many a politician to publicly distance themselves from their most cherished beliefs and it may have moved Sarah Palin to downplay her faith to the point of extremes in her autobiography, Going Rogue, as we have seen.

There is a counter argument, though, that the public is eager to know what their leaders actually believe but are nervous about unexplained religious platitudes. When George W. Bush said that his favorite political philosopher is Jesus Christ “because He changed my heart” and yet let this stand without explanation, the public was left wondering how this private belief might shape the life of the nation. When Ronald Reagan began pondering the eventuality of Armageddon, the conflagration that some students of the Bible believe will bring history to a violent end, many Americans were naturally concerned about what he might conclude. And Jimmy Carter spoke of being “born again” but took no pains to explain what this might mean in for his role in the White House.

The lesson is not that modern politicians should run away from their faith. The lesson is that modern politicians should explain their faith and what it might mean for their conduct in office. Sarah Palin is uniquely equipped for this. Despite negative press to the contrary, she is a well-read, well-pastored, well-taught evangelical who could easily articulate the meaning of her brand of faith for public policy. She should turn from the dumbed-down approach she chose in Going Rogue and become the articulate evangelical politician that she is perfectly positioned to be.

#4: Dare to grow.

It was hard to watch. In a January, 2010, interview, Fox news star Glenn Beck asked Sarah Palin a simple question: “Who is your favorite Founder?” Palin, flustered, answered, “You know, well, all of them, because they came collectively together with so much….”

Beck interrupted. “Bullcrap” he said. “Who’s your favorite?”

Palin kept going. “…so much diverse and so much diversity in terms of belief, but collectively they came together…. and they were led by, of course George Washington, so he’s got to rise to the top.”

It was not the first time that Sarah Palin had flubbed an interview and by her own admission. Yet this one, and all the ones before, provides her with an opportunity: Grow. Deepen. Increase. Right there in public view. Read and learn and broaden and put the fruit of it on public display.

There are those who will urge her otherwise. Some in American politics believe that it is best to stay in the shallow end of the pool. It is safe there and free of embarrassment. There is no need to admit that there are things you don’t know. Cover your ignorance and charge your staff to make sure your lack of knowledge is never exposed.

Yet this approach is not befitting a serious leader who intends to effect profound change. It is also not worthy of Sarah Palin. She should draw from her strengths. She is an aggressive reader and she retains what she learns. This is her heritage. She should build on it. She should read and let the public hear about it. She should consider an Oprah-like, conservative book club and so become identified with great literature and great ideas. She could even call the occasional summit of notable conservative minds and tell them, “Look, I’ve been in public office for more than a decade and I don’t know some of the things I should. Many Americans probably feel the same way. Let’s talk about the seminal ideas and solutions for our time.”

There is no shame in not knowing. There is even no shame in not answering well. There is shame, though, in not knowing or answering well the second time around.

#5: Critics are not enemies.

We have all had this experience. We are listening to a speaker who has been stung by a critical word. He is hurt, enflamed. He uses his speech to strike back. He hits hard and does not let up. But he is talking past us. We do not know what has been said and we do not understand why we are subjected to this angry tirade. Moreover, rather than being impressed with the persuasiveness of his argument, we leave more impressed with how small and vain this man is. He has lost us, and all because he could not rise above, could not let criticism go unanswered and unavenged.

It was the great missionary statesman E. Stanley Jones who said, “My critics are the unpaid guardians of my soul.” It is a truth that would serve Sarah Palin well. There is wisdom to be heard in the mouth of one’s enemies and she would be well served by knowing it. Critics hold up a mirror we would not otherwise see, allow us a clarified view of ourselves that we cannot get any other way. We have to discriminate, of course, and pick out the diamonds of wisdom from the dunghill of hate. Still, there is truth to be had and the wise leader learns to face criticism, discover the truth in it, and change accordingly. It distinguishes greatness from vanity and rage, carefully crafted performance from genuine largeness of heart. Sarah Palin is capable of these, but only if she refuses to be embittered by those who strike at her.

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What Sarah Palin—And Every Leader—Needs to Know

March 13, 2012Comment

In 2010, my dear friend David Holland and I wrote a book entitled The Faith and Values of Sarah Palin: What She Believes and What it Means for America. I’m deeply proud of it and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. We did not write it because we are Palin supporters. We wrote it because Palin’s presence on our national stage exposes “fault lines” in American culture. We wanted to explore these lines, retell her story, and project the meaning of it all into the future a bit.

I love what we got on the page and I loved running around Alaska with Dave—having tea in Palin’s parents’ living room, meeting with her pastors and friends. It was a ball. And we grew to love our country even more because it is where a gifted, ambitious woman can rise.

In our last chapter, we dared to make some suggestions, to offer some truths that would serve Governor Palin well. After watching HBO’s Game Change this week, I thought of this chapter and decided to offer it as a series of blogs. So, here are the first two of seven principles we offered. They are more relevant now than ever—for Palin, for me, for every leader.

By the way, our book is as cutting edge now as it was in 2010. I hope you’ll pick it up at your bookstore, or order it from Amazon here.

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#1: Love ennobles politics.

This may seem a sickly sweet, syrupy thing to say. It may sound too much like Bill and Hillary Clinton’s “politics of meaning” or George H. W. Bush’s “thousand points of light.” These are the types of phrases that speechwriters love for their euphony but which fall empty upon the public’s ears. To speak of love anywhere in the proximity of politics may simply sound like more of the same.

Yet, any statesman who is serious about leading well, who is intent upon leaving a lasting impact upon society, must find the highest, most genuine motive for their politics. They must sort through the popular rhetoric just as they sort through the crowded rooms of their own inner life to discover the linear connection between their times, the needs of those they serve, their skills, and the political passions of their heart. This is how statecraft grows from soul craft.

It does not require an exhaustive review of Sarah Palin’s political career to discover that she is at her best when she is leading out of love. Her best speeches grow from her love for Alaska and her people. Her most dramatic acts of service have come from a desire to end the corruption that grew like a cancer on the civic body she loves. She has shown herself most noble in the care of her family, in her welcoming of a special needs child, in her honor for her friends. All of this is about love.

From the time of John McCain’s summons, Palin has been on the attack. This is what that critical moment in the 2008 election required, what Republicans were desperate for and what wrung the most thrilling response from the crowds. Palin rose to the call. She transformed bedeviling Obama’s every act into an art form and later served both John McCain’s senatorial race and the Tea Party movement with large doses of well-crafted venom.

There is more to her than this, though, and she must re-discover it for herself before the clock runs out on her current plan of assault. She knows what love is. She grew up in a loving home and entered public life largely for what she held dear rather than for who she wanted to destroy. She must recover this inspiration and do it now, remembering that while politicians carp and spat for a season, the work of statesmen endures for generations, ennobled by love of truth and love of those they serve.

 

#2: Hang a lantern on your weaknesses.

It is perhaps too much to expect genuine humility from politicians. They arrive at their heights by fiercely believing in themselves and it is not surprising that this should sometimes bleed over into pride and even arrogance. Tending these weeds in a politician’s soul is a matter for spouses, close friends and clergy. The public, however, should not be surprised that their leaders are flawed in such a way. Even Winston Churchill once wrote to his wife, “I am so devoured by egoism that I would like to have another soul in another world and meet you in another setting.” It should comes as no surprise that the lesser lights of our own day might feel much the same.

Yet there is a bit of wisdom that has come down through the years and which, if not a fruit of character, ought to at least be a tactic of self-preservation for public figures. It is this: Hang a lantern on your weaknesses.

The smart politician describes his faults before his enemies get a chance. He admits his failings with a laugh before his opponents have opportunity to portray those failings in dark and dangerous terms. This is not only a means of disarming the opposition but of endearing oneself to a forgiving and similarly flawed public.

There is a case in point to be imagined from the life of George W. Bush. It was widely known that he was beset with some syndrome of verbal confusion. Some experts said he was an undiagnosed dyslexic. He was famous for mangling terms like “strategerly” and for summoning his listeners to choose “the high horse or the low road.” This weakness on the part of the sitting president was a raucous playground for late night comics but it was a serious inability to communicate which tragically damaged his presidency.

Suppose he had decided to hang a lantern on his weaknesses. Suppose that rather than cover his inabilities he decided to have himself tested, admitted publicly that he had wrestled with a minor form of dyslexia all his life, and committed himself to address the issue. How this might have endeared him to an American society ever cheering for the underdog. How this would have made his rise to the presidency seem an even more astonishing feat. And what might this have meant for dyslexic school children the world over that an American president faced similar challenges?

This is a lesson that Sarah Palin must absorb. She has built her public success on her “Sarah Barracuda” reputation, on the strength of an inner force that blows past failings and flaws as though they do not exist. But this is unwise in public life, particularly in a media age where every blemish and discoloration is transmitted in high definition. Better the knowing laugh, the homey expression of self-deprecation, and the confession of weaknesses the world already sees. This will require a new skill set for Sarah Palin, and it will feel awkward and unnatural for a time. But it is more than posturing. It is the fruit of wisdom and a reaching for humility that at least reflects a respect for virtue if it is not a virtue in itself.

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The Best Interview I’ve Done

March 5, 20125 Comments

I did an interview with some college students recently. Because their professor had made the interview a special assignment for their TeleComm program, the interviewers had really done their homework. It turned out to be one of the most revealing and accurate interviews I’ve done. I got permission to reprint it here, though I was asked not to mention the school for some murky First Amendment reason.  Enjoy.

 

  • We’re confused by you. You’re billed as a political conservative, but we get the impression that your Christianity won’t let you go all the way conservative. Is this true? Can you explain?

Sure. And good observation by the way. I lean conservative in my politics for moral reasons. I believe the greatest threat to human lives is a tyrannical state.  I believe that abortion is the taking of human life. I believe that excessive taxation is theft and the destruction of individual calling. And I believe there are other God-ordained institutions–the church, the family, the school, for example–that the bloated state threatens. So, for these reasons I’m conservative within the current range of American politics.

However, my Christianity prevents me from being libertarian because I believe the state and those who guide her are ordained by God. I also believe in caring for the poor and I believe the poor are not the responsibility only of the private sector. I’m also a “biblical feminist” and so for all these reasons I am right of center–or, as one writer labeled me, a “tempted moderate.”

  • A “biblical feminist?”. Come on.

I would just say “biblical” on the matter of women but very few people have ever read the Bible and certainly have not read it in light of God’s will for women.  So, I call myself a biblical feminist just to distinguish myself a bit. It only means that I believe women can lead, have callings, and can be very significant in Christian leadership. Women served the Apostle Paul and served with the apostle Paul. Women were prophets and teachers and may have been apostles in the Early New Testament era. I don’t believe what I believe because I’m trying to break from scripture. I believe what I believe because I’m devoted to scripture.

  • How is it that you can write about both the faith of Barack Obama and George W. Bush? Why doesn’t your hard drive explode with both of those manuscripts on your disk at the same time?

Very funny. But you’re assuming that what both of these men believe privately is very different. It isn’t. Read the updated and expanded version my Obama book and you’ll see what I mean. But more importantly, I think the world is well served by respectful, factual reporting on religion. I have told the truth–about Bush, about Obama, about the Pope, even about Guinness beer. Some don’t like it because, for example, they think beer is immoral. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m about getting the story right. I think that is what I’ve done. My critics don’t go after me because of the untruth of what I say. They go after me because the truth I report doesn’t fit their beliefs. I can’t help that. I’m not God. My hard drive is just fine, by the way.

  • Are you a moderate?

I probably am, but only because the field has shifted. I think I’m what most Americans have always been. But if the field has shifted on abortion or the poor or the role of government in private lives, then it may be that I have landed moderate. I didn’t choose that label or position, though. Actually, to be labeled some kind of firebrand or radical Spartacus-type appeals to my ego more. “Moderate” sounds like a guy who can’t make up his mind or who wants peace at any cost. That’s not me.

  • What’s the worst thing about being seen as a moderate?

Well, there are about two of us, for one thing.  Then, you have no ideological home, don’t get invited to the parties, have both sides mad at you. And a consultant once told me “You’ll never get rich being moderate. Be hard right or hard left. That’s where the money is.” So, there you have it.

  • Are you rich?

Compared to you graduate students? Yes. Compared to the national average? Yes. Compared to most of the world? Yes.

  • So you don’t want to admit it, but you are in the upper two percent, right?

Yes. And I have no problem admitting it. I’ve made whatever money I have writing books, giving speeches, serving clients, and investing. No one got murdered, no one got sold into slavery, and no one got robbed. Every dime I’ve made I got because someone gladly wanted to give money to hear, see, read, or learn from me. Sounds just to me. So you see why I have no problem saying that I am probably in the two percent.

  • Yes or no: You make more than $250,000 a year?

Yes. But that’s the last question about my personal finances I’m going to answer. Not because it is embarrassing, but because you’re being rude.

  • Sorry. You write a lot about getting over bitterness. Do you find being bitter a problem yourself?

Yes. My soul seems to be coated in Velcro and I can hang on to an offense for a long time if I’m not careful. I have to work at forgiving and freeing myself from smallness and anger. For some reason, it doesn’t come easily for me. I don’t like this about myself. I wish I was as loving and as forgiving as my wife. This is definitely my Achilles Heel.

  • Come on, do tell: Who do you have to work hardest to forgive? 

I won’t give the name and not because I’m being coy with you. It just wouldn’t be fair. But it is someone who benefited from my friendship for many years and then when I went through a tough time, this person joined the opposition. Hard for me, sinner that I am, to let go of it. ‘Nuff said.

  • You mention your wife more than almost any public figure–on the air, in your books, in your podcasts. Are you compensating?

Do you mean, am am I gay?

  • No, are you actually a bastard who talks love and roses because at home, you know, you’re actually a bastard.

No. I talk love for Bev because I’m deeply in love with Bev and I’m still stunned she is my wife. And I probably feel tender about it because I’ve never been loved like this before. I had a horrible marriage once. The woman I was married to loved another and left the marriage and I thought I was done. No more love. Just work, children and friends. Okay with me. I’m crazy about my kids.  But then came Bev. It is just overwhelming to be so in love later in life.

  • You have a doctorate. You are a teacher. You write on big themes. Why aren’t you a college professor?

I’m not cut out for it.  I love teaching. I love students. I love my field. I’m not sure being a college professor is about all that. It is about committee meetings, writing and administrative responsibilities. That’s fine. I just can’t commit to it. It’s a flaw in me. Really.

  • Final question. In fact, this is three short questions. You are writing a book on Mormons. Do you think Mormonism is Christianity?

No.

  • Do you think Mormons are good people?

Yes. In fact, I think the Mormon people are better than Mormon doctrine.

  • Will you vote for Mitt Romney if he becomes the nominee, as it seems he will?

Yes, I will. I will wish for a better candidate, but I will vote for him if he is the Republican nominee.

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What the Mormons Taught Me

February 7, 20122 Comments

As part of the research for some writing I am doing, I spent a week in Salt Lake City recently to learn about Mormonism at its core. I already knew a great deal about this intriguing church since my academic field is American religion and since I lecture and write broadly about the faiths that shape our culture, the faith of the Latter Day Saints (LDS) in particular.

I’ll recount the bulk of what I learned in an upcoming book but there are some features of today’s Mormonism that I’ll mention here and largely because they impressed me and made me realize what a powerful force the LDS is likely to be in the decades to come.

The most impressive feature of modern Mormons is their set of relational skills. I use the word “skills” because their ability to reach converts by absorbing them into thriving community is carefully crafted. I simply mean that they are intentional about it, that they work to overcome the natural divide between themselves and the non-Mormon world by enveloping seekers in friendly, bustling, principled extended family. They know better than us non-Mormons do that their doctrines make them oddities in American culture. They also understand what other religions often do not—that today people want to belong before they are willing to believe. Mormons offer belonging. Yes, this is an outgrowth of their unusual spiritual beliefs, but still it makes them about large families and big gatherings and relational networks and even about building family dynasties over time—and throughout eternity.

Ask two Brigham Young University students for directions as you walk across campus and you will likely not be greeted with the suspicious, surly, mumbling response of late-teens and twenty-somethings at the mall. Instead, you are answered by well-spoken, open-faced kids who eagerly answer your question or—as in an almost sit-com like moment I experienced—summon the aid of other eager students until your band of advisors resembles a small riot of helpfulness. Betray any uncertainty about religious matters and one of the students will offer to call “the missionaries” for you. In meeting with what the media dubs “members of the Mormon establishment” you will quickly be fending off invitations to dinner or family gatherings and or perhaps be consulted on pressing matters. In a conversation with the senior Mormon Church public relations executive, I found myself being consulted on how best to overcome theological objections to LDS doctrine. Very crafty. I offered several brilliant thoughts before I realized the man had maneuvered me into thinking like a Mormon confronting secular culture. I could almost hear the waters of baptism rippling in the next room.

These relational skills are honed in an aggressive educational culture that starts early and never lets go—another of Mormonism’s features I admire. After the usual religious training of the elementary school years, high school students attend a seminary, college students an institute. They emerge at about the age of twenty-two with greater knowledge of their faith and the methods for winning others to it than most American Christians possess even by end of their lives. Then, of course, there is Brigham Young University, the military academy of Mormonism. The Marriott School of Management trains leaders of every kind there. Most of BYU’s students are already bi-lingual. In addition to aggressive academics, supplemental programs assure the skills of success. The school offers a “Professional Etiquette Dinner,” for example, at which students learn the appropriate form of introductions and which fork to use for the second course, what to do with your napkin when you leave the table and how to thank your host after a formal dinner. Not the skills needed at the campus pizza joint perhaps, but very much required by those who intend to frequent such dinners in Washington D.C., while on the board of Sony or as the U.S. Ambassador to France. The message is clear: “We intend to lead.”

Then, finally, there is the passion to do everything well. Even a casual reading of Mormon theology repeatedly surfaces words like “progress,” organize,” and “choose.” The “Heavenly Father” of this earth does not create matter, he organizes it. We are not in this life for pleasure but to progress. Disagree with these theologies as you will—and I do—but the more important matter is that making things better, being excellent in manner, and doing as God does in orchestrating worlds breathes from Mormonism like confidence from a U.S. Marine. It is what allows a mother to raise a dozen children and a busy college professor to be a bishop in his “ward” or the president of his “stake.” Mormons are ever proving themselves worthy, ever about the business—quite literally—of their religion.

And here they come: seven million of them who seem like seventy million on the American scene.

Debate about Mormonism today usually involves talk about holy underwear and blacks being excluded from the Temple and what sex must be like between planetary gods and their spirit brides. Fair enough—and there are dozens of other unusual theologies to explore. Still, embedded in Mormon belief and culture are the dynamics of religious influence and material success, whatever theological barriers the LDS must cross. To miss this feature of modern Mormonism is to fail to see what is coming.

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WinstonMas: Churchill on Marriage

January 21, 20121 Comment

“At times, I think I could conquer everything—and then again I know I am only a weak vain fool. But your love for me is the greatest glory and recognition that has or will ever befall me: and the attachment which I feel towards you is not capable of being altered by the sort of things that happen in this world. I only wish I were more worthy of you and more able to meet the inner needs of your soul.”

We no longer live when public men are measured by the quality of their marriages. “Men of affairs” today are often just that and the greater the distance they can place between themselves and their crumbling home lives the better. For some unclear reason, the inability of a man to loyally fulfill his vows to his wife is no longer taken as indication of the character with which he will serve the public. Our age has suffered for embracing such folly. In Winston Churchill’s age, though, a public man’s marriage was more than a well-rehearsed drama, it was the yardstick by which the moral measure of the man was taken. Thus, it was often said of Churchill what is announced of today’s leaders only with a wink of cynicism: “Winston Churchill loved his wife.” Little else is as revealing of his character.

When thirty-four year-old Churchill married Clementine Hozier, he was already a war hero, author, and statesman. With a renowned ancestry and an international reputation, he was a man on the rise in Parliament. Clementine, ten years his junior, was the product of a shattered marriage and an unstable home life. Yet, she had been educated at the Sorbornne, possessed “classical” beauty, and was known to be an excellent tennis player and a good hunter—”for a woman.”

They appeared to be as opposite as a husband and wife could be. She was an early riser who retired early in the evening. He worked until 3 a.m. and then slept until mid-morning. She was an inveterate worrier. He took risks whenever possible and loved daring adventure. She was of Scots descent and believed in frugal ways and plain living. Money problems made her nervous. Winston, on the other hand, spent money like there was no end to it and kept the family in perpetual arrears. He enjoyed raucous parties and loud dinner guests with strong opinions. She found them crude and unsettling and sometimes even ordered guests out of her house (Winston said she once descended on a man “like a jaguar from a tree.”) He had boundless energy; she was often tired and in constant need of rest. Politically, she was to the left of the Liberal establishment of her day, but he was a conservative “Tory Democrat.” He loved Chartwell, their home in Kent; the work on the house, the development of the land, the entertaining. She found it ostentatious and too much work. He expressed everything, wept freely, and lavished affection upon her. She kept everything bottled up until the pressure became too much and she exploded, much to the astonishment of her family and friends.

This strange mixture seems a sure prescription for divorce, but somehow Winston and Clementine melded their differences into one of the most movingly intimate marriages on record. Together they created a realm of supportive intimacy that filled the void in their lives. It was a private realm, adorned with gentleness and a level of acceptance neither had known before. As one historian has written, “There would always be a place in their relationship into which no one else would enter.” From the time of their honeymoon, during which they “loitered and loved,” they together built a safe haven that would forever be their private refuge.

Within this world only pet names were used. He was “Mr. Pug” or “Pig” and she, “Mrs. Kat.” The children were called “kittens” and were given names like “Chumbolly” and “Duckadilly.” Unborn children were “Puppy Kittens.” When one of them entered the house, some absurd sound—like a nasal “Wonk! Wonk!”—would be made, with the entire family, from whatever quarter, repeating the sound in greeting. Their displays of affection were public and unrestrained. There was abundant wrestling, slapping, holding, and tickling in their home. On Churchill’s birthday, a visiting Lord found “Kat” and “Pig,” attired in paper hats, purring cat-like at each other on a sofa. They delighted in caring for each other. If a wasp landed on Clementine, Winston, knowing her deathly fear, would gallantly grab the insect and cast it into a nearby fire. Then he would turn to her and ask with deepest concern, “Did you survive, my Kat?” as though they had together confronted the dragon of St. George.

Their letters reveal an almost adolescent sentimentality. He might address her as “my beautiful white pussy cat.” If he had just left on a plane he might write that he had “a touching vision of you and your kittens growing rapidly smaller.” He was “eternally attached to her” and pledged, “I want to be worthy of all the beauties of your nature. It gives me so much joy to make you happy.” Clementine was equally expressive in writing, far more so than in person. When she had once been rude to one of their house guests, she wrote in apology, “My sweet and Dear Pig, when I am a withered old woman how miserable I shall be if I have disturbed your life and troubled your spirit by my temper. Do not cease to love me. I could not do without it.” Often, their letters included drawings of pigs, kittens, hearts, and other symbols of endearment. These exchanges might easily be mistaken for the love-sick scrawlings of teenagers were they not signed by the Prime Minister of Great Britain.

What is most astounding about the marriage of Winston and Clementine is that—far from immune to the pressures which shipwreck the marriages of others—they experienced almost every disadvantage in outsized proportion. By modern standards they were doomed from the beginning. There was no degree of loneliness, anger, rejection, pain, bitterness, or opportunity for unfaithfulness that they did not experience. But in their more than 55 years together, they endured largely because they admitted their inadequacies, fed their intimacy at any cost, and understood their marriage in the sustaining light of eternity. So, as Winston wrote in the very last line of his autobiographical My Early Life, “I married . . . and lived happily ever afterwards.”

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‘Winstonmas’ Begins

January 18, 20121 Comment

My historical hero, Winston Churchill, died on January 24, 1965. Each year during the week before the anniversary of the Great Man’s death, a few of my friends and I read a good book on Churchill, revel in his spirit and usually have a fine meal in his honor. I also like to memorialize him—during this annual time we have humorously begun calling ‘Winstonmas’—by offering selections from my book Never Give In: The Extraordinary Character of Winston Churchill. I think you’ll find liberation from the cult of the contemporary in Churchill’s words and I hope you’ll think on him with gratitude in this week leading up to January 24.

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 On Realism: “The truth is incontrovertible. Panic may resent it; ignorance may deride it; malice may destroy it, but there it is.” 

As a rule, human beings try to avoid unpleasant truths. We prefer the comfortable to the unsettling. We dislike harsh facts for the same reason we dislike mirrors: they force us to stare our problems in the face. Historians have long known that civilizations in crisis take refuge in myth and fantasy because the sensual, escapist world of imagination promises deliverance from the cold, disturbing world of reality. But the deliverance is never genuine: it is only a temporary distraction, not real hope. Hope springs instead from courageously confronting the truth, no matter how bleak or costly it may be.

In complaining about the age of appeasement, Churchill once said, “No one in great authority had the wit, ascendancy or detachment from public folly to declare these fundamental, brutal facts to the electorate.” This touches one of the distinguishing marks of his style of leadership: he believed in the necessity of squarely facing the most ugly realities. How refreshing this is in our media age when public relations experts are mistaken for leaders and when every unsightly blemish or untidy fact is carefully reworked, re-painted, or retired. Churchill would have none of it: “It is no use dealing with illusions and make-believes. We must look at the facts. The world . . . is too dangerous for anyone to be able to afford to nurse illusions. We must look at realities.”

Churchill possessed an almost mystical confidence in knowing the facts and facing them honestly, whatever the offense, as a critical step toward ultimate triumph. In September of 1932, he warned the House of Commons of the Nazi movement and urged honesty in dealing with the public. “I would now say, ‘Tell the truth to the British People.’ They are a tough people, a robust people. They may be a bit offended at the moment, but if you have told them exactly what is going on you have insured yourself against complaints and reproaches which are very unpleasant when they come home on the morrow of some disillusion . . .” Years later, as First Lord of the Admiralty, he told the House of Commons of a major naval defeat and reminded the members, “We do not at all underrate the power and malignity of our enemies. We are prepared to endure tribulation.” And when the defeats continued, his conclusion was near brutal in its frankness: “We shall suffer and we shall suffer continually, but by perseverance, and by taking measure on the largest scale, I feel no doubt that in the end we shall break their hearts.”

This resolve to engage the truth at any price granted Churchill some immensely important insights. As a careful observer who refused to change facts to fit his philosophy or bend reality to his imagination, he acquired shrewd insight into the ways of men and events. While others fashioned fantastic theories to explain what little they understood, Churchill recognized that history does not arrive in neat packages or move in defined channels. Time, chance, human nature,—all play their role. Life is not black and white, events are stubborn and unruly, and men rarely follow precise patterns in their behavior. Understanding this gave Churchill the judgment to fashion policies suited to the fluid and uncertain nature of circumstances.

“The world, nature, human beings, do not move like machines. The edges are never clear-cut, but always frayed. Nature never draws a line without smudging it. Conditions are so variable, episodes so unexpected, experiences so conflicting, that flexibility of judgment and a willingness to assume a somewhat humbler attitude towards external phenomena may well play their part in the equipment of a modern prime minister.”

A “humbler attitude” meant caution in dealing with other human beings: “The high belief in the perfection of man is appropriate in a man of the cloth but not in a prime minister.” It also demanded an unnatural willingness to consider opposing views: “The more knowledge we possess of the opposite point of view the less puzzling it is to know what to do.” It enabled him to coolly calculate risk: “We realize that success cannot be guaranteed. There are no safe battles.” And it made him even more impatient when empty posturing replaced informed action: “Peace will not be preserved by pious sentiments expressed in terms of platitudes or by official grimaces and diplomatic correctitude.” Perhaps above all, it gave him a healthy sense of the absurd in the affairs of men: “The human story does not always unfold like a mathematical calculation on the principle that two and two make four. Sometimes in life they make five or minus three; and sometimes the blackboard topples down in the middle of the sum and leaves the class in disorder and the pedagogue with a black eye.”

Facing ugly truth is not easy. Often the toughest battle a leader will face is the one against his own reticence to see things as they really are. It requires uncommon courage and very few have the character to deal with such stark reality. But when the truth is known, the worst is over and the benefits are a clearer vision and the wisdom of a “humbler attitude,” without which leaders cannot move beyond despair to a brighter day of victory.

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The Weaving of the Christ Tale

December 20, 20111 Comment

The birth of the Christ child did not begin with a manger and shepherds in their fields and wise men following a star. It did not begin even with a lone husband and wife seeking shelter for the night. God weaves a better story than that.

It began, of course, with all the Great Ones of old who foresaw the Messiah or who played a role in his ancestry or who wrote of how it would happen so that when it did everyone would know that God had been preparing, that all was according to plan.

But we don’t have to go back that far.

We can start with Anna. That is the name we know her by. The people who saw her everyday may have called her something else and it may not have been that kind. She was old. In fact, Dr. Luke tells us she was “very old.” And maybe a bit odd. People saw her each time they went to the temple. She was there, her lips moving wordlessly, often her hands raised to something invisible. Folks probably thought she was insane, some wrinkled old homeless woman who mumbled to herself all the time.

She wasn’t any of these things. It turns out she was once a lovely young woman who had long ago married the love of her life. The two lived happily for seven years until the young husband died. Anna was shattered and wept away her days. Then, in the swirl of her grief, she noticed a purpose taking form despite the fog. She knew what God wanted her to do: to wait and pray and fast and worship and do it out where anyone might see—in the temple courts. She sensed something marvelous was going to happen before too many years and that in some invisible way she was supposed to pave the way.

So day and night she stood before her God and reminded him of who he was and what he had promised. And the years passed—almost sixty of them. All along, Anna stayed true. And then there was that day, when Joseph and Mary—who were not yet born when Anna had stood her watch for forty years!—walked into the temple courts with something in their arms.

Simeon saw it too. He was old as well though not as old as Anna. Perhaps the two even knew each other. Her job was to stand in the holy place and call upon God to act. Simeon’s job was to know what was coming and to let it live inside him until the day it was fulfilled—even if it was the last day of his life.

So when Joseph and Mary’s grandparents were still young, Anna moved from grief to intercession and began to stand her watch. Simeon saw what others did not of God’s intent for Israel and waited, like a pregnant woman eager for the day of birth. And he was there, too, before Joseph and Mary were even a dream in their parents’ hearts.

Then, without either of them knowing it, the night we remember each year came. A young couple, forced to travel by a decree of Caesar, looked for a place to give birth. There was no room in the inn. Everyone was out on the roads. And so a cave used to tend cattle became their home for a while.

It had taken miracles to get them there. An angel appeared to Mary to tell her what was to come. She was only 14 or so and understandably unsure. Joseph had suspicions that only another angel/dream could correct. Then, Mary’s Uncle Zechariah had seen an angel by the temple altar and things had not gone well. He didn’t speak for nine months while his wife, Elizabeth, had a child though she was well up in years.

God was weaving his story. And he wasn’t done. On this night, while Mary gave birth to a child no human father produced and Joseph served her knowing the child was from God and Anna worshipped in the temple and Simeon carried the sacred dream….

….Priests of a foreign religion and a far distant land were woven into the story. They followed a slow moving star and would not arrive for two years, but they had begun their journey to worship the Christ and would not stop searching until they did. Shepherds tending the temple flocks heard angels declare what had happened and rushed off to find the new Lamb of God.  And in Jerusalem, Zechariah spoke and held his new son named John while his wife, Elizabeth, recovered from her joyous trial.

And he came. The Promised One. Just as was foretold. As a pudgy, squirming baby nestled in an animal trough. Not much fanfare for a king.

Then, forty days later, to fulfill the law of God, Joseph and Mary carried their child, Jeshua, to Jerusalem and into the temple courts. Simeon found them first, old as he was and perhaps a bit weary in the search. Once he explained to the parents, he took the child in his arms and knew his unanswered waiting had come to an end. He held in his trembling hands the one who would reach beyond the borders of Israel to the great unknowing masses in lands no honorable Jew would set foot. And he told these parents it would not all be easy for them in the days to come.

Anna likely saw the three and the child amidst the temple throng and drew near. What she had envisioned all those years ago, what she had long asked God to do, now was here. She wept and prayed and began to tell all who entered the temple a story that must have made the passersby shake their heads at that crazy old woman and her mystical tales.

Each one played his role. The grieving young wife, the patient seer, the priests of a strange religion, the shepherds just putting down for the night, the old priest of Israel who had trouble believing, his now-young elderly wife, and the Christ himself who was ancient before he was born and took on the form of a child.

In this way, the Destiny Weaver, wove his story in time. And the weaving goes on, for those willing to lend the strand of their lives to the woven purposes of God.

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The First Thanksgiving in the Pilgrim’s Own Words

November 20, 20111 Comment

Our nation is in crisis. Our times are troubled. Our national memory has grown dim. We need to remember who we are. Thanksgiving is a perfect time for this. Take a few moments this holiday week to ponder the words of our Pilgrim Fathers about their First Thanksgiving. It may be a first step toward recovering who we are meant to be.

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In 1608, the Pilgrims left England for Holland because of persecution by the Anglican Church. William Bradford, their chronicler and long-time governor, wrote that they had “as the Lord’s free people, joined themselves by a covenant of the Lord into a church estate, in the fellowship of the Gospel, to walk in all His ways made known…unto them, according to their best endeavors, whatsoever it should cost them, the Lord assisting them.”

While in Holland, Pastor John Robinson powerfully preached a Christian vision for the New World: “Now as the people of god in old time were called out of Babylon civil, the place of their bodily bondage, and were to come to Jerusalem, and there to build the Lord’s temple, or tabernacle…so are the people of God now to go out of Babylon spiritual to Jerusalem…and to build themselves as lively stones into a spiritual house, or temple, for the Lord to dwell in.”

After 12 years of living in Holland, the Pilgrims began to nurture a desire to take the Gospel to the nations. Bradford writes of their passion for coming to the new world: “…a great hope and inward zeal they had of laying some good foundation, or at least to make some way thereunto, for the propagating and advancing the gospel of the kingdom of Christ in those remote parts of the world; yea, though they should be but even as stepping-stones unto others for the performing of so great a work.”

They were carefully counting the cost: “…all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and must be enterprise and overcome with answerable courages. It was granted that the dangers were great, but not desperate, and the difficulties were many, but not invincible…and all of them, through the help of God, fortitude and patience, might either be borne or overcome…[But] their condition was not ordinary. Their ends were good and honorable, their calling lawful and urgent, and therefore they might expect the blessing of God in their proceeding; yea, though they should lose their lives in this action, yet they might have comfort in the same, and their endeavors would be honorable.”

They were willing to face hardship: “Yea, and as the enterprise is weighty and difficult, so the honor is more worthy, to plant a rude wilderness, to enlarge the honor and fame of our dread sovereign, but chiefly to display the efficacy and power of the Gospel, both in zealous preaching, professing, and wise walking under it, before the faces of these poor blind infidels.”

The were particularly concerned for the conversion of natives in the New World: “And first, seeing we daily pray for the conversion of the heathens…it seemeth unto me that we ought also to endeavor and use the means to convert them; and the means cannot be used unless we go to them, or they come to us. To us they cannot come, our land is full; to them we may go…that they may be persuaded at length to embrace the Prince of Peace, Christ Jesus, and rest in peace with him forever.”

After making arrangements for the voyage, their pastor, John Robinson, called a “day of sollemme humiliation.” Robinson preached from Ezra 8:21: “And there at the river, by Ahavba, I proclaimed a fast, that we might humble ourselves before our God and seek of him a right way for us, and for our children and for all our substance.” Robinson later wrote, “The rest of the time was spent in powering out prayers to the Lord with great fervencies, mixed with abundance of tears.”

The majority left Holland to board their ships in England. Their godly Pastor, John Robinson, stayed behind to care for the elderly and infirm. He sent a letter with one of the leaders that was to be read as they boarded their ships. The words would repeatedly provide comfort and encouragement to them as their adventure unfolded.

. . .We are daily to renew our repentance with our God, especially for our sins known, and generally for our unknown trespasses. . .[For] sin being taken away by earnest repentance ad the pardon thereof from the Lord. . .great shall be [a man's] security and peace in all dangers, sweet his comforts in all distresses. . .

As they prepared to leave in 1620 “they knew they were pilgrims, and looked not much on those things, but lifted up their eyes to the heavens, their dearest cuntrie, and quieted their spirits.”

The voyage on The Mayflower lasted 66 days. The Mayflower was no longer than a volleyball court and the storms they sailed through sometimes laid the ship on its side, sometimes threw it high in the air only to slam it upon the water again. During that time of year the North Atlantic waters are so cold that the U.S. Navy estimates a man will live only three minutes if he falls overboard.

For weeks at a time, the Pilgrims were forced to remain in the “tween decks.” One sailor repeatedly called them “psalmsinging pukestockings.” They suffered all the effects of being tossed on the ocean for over two months — men, children, pregnant women, the elderly — but they always harbored in their hearts an earnest desire to be a “stepping stone of the light of Christ in a new land.”

When they arrived, landing in a howling wilderness, Bradford wrote these moving words: “Being thus passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before in their preparation they had now no friends to welcome them, nor inns to entertain or refresh their weatherbeaten bodys, no houses or much less townes to repair too, to seeke for succoure. And for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of that cuntrie know them to be sharp and violent, and subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places, much more to search and unknown coast. Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wild beasts and wild men? and what multitudes there might be of them they knew not. What could now sustain them but the spirite of God and his grace? May not and ought not the children of these fathers, rightly say: ‘Our fathers were Englishmen which came over this great ocean, and were ready to perish in this wilderness.’”

Because they had been blown off course by the storms and had not landed upon the land of their charter, the Pilgrims wrote a new charter, called the Mayflower Compact. It is the first binding covenant or constitution in American history. It states clearly why they sailed to the new world.

In the name of God, Amen. We, whose names are underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread sovereign lord, King James, by the grace of God, of Great Britain, France, and Ireland King, defender of the faith, &c, having undertaken for the glory of God, and advancement of the Christian faith, and honor of our King and country, a voyage to plant the first colony in the northern parts of Virginia, do by these presents, solemnly and mutually, in the presence of God and one of another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil body politic.

But this unity was quickly challenged. Bradford wrote:

In these hard and difficult beginnings they found some discontents and murmurings arise among some, and mutinous speeches and carriages in other, but they were soon quelled and overcome by the wisdom, patience, and just and equally carriage of things by the Governor and better part, which clave faithfully together in the main. But that which was most sad and lamentable was, that in 2 or 3 months time halfe of their company dyed, especially in January and February, being the depth of winter, and wanting houses and other comforts, being infected with the scurvie and other diseases, and which this long voyage and their inaccomadate condition had brought upon them; so as there dyed some time 2 or 3 a day in the foresaid time; that of 100 persons, scarce 50 reminded.

And of these in the time of most distress, there were but 6 or 7 sound persons who, to their great commendations be it spoken, spared no pains, night or day, but with abundance of toyle and hazard of their own health, fetched them wood, made them fires, dressed them meat made their beds, washed their loathsome clothes, loathed and unclothed them, in a word did all the homely and necessary offices for them which dainty and queasy stomachs cannot endure to hear named; and all this willingly and cheerfully without any grudging in the least, showing herein their true love unto their friends and brethren.

Still, God’s grace was sufficient. God caused English-speaking Indians named Samoset and Squanto to help the Pilgrims learn how to farm the land and harvest the bay. Squanto lived with the Pilgrims until 1622 when he died. His last request was that Gov. William Bradford would pray that he might go to the Englishman’s god in heaven. Bradford wrote: “Squanto continued with them and was their interpreter, and was a special instrument sent of God for their good beyond their expectation. He directed them how to set their corn, where to take fish and to procure other commodities and was also their pilot to bring them to unknown places for their profit, and never left them till he dyed.”

Their next harvest proved the wisdom of Squanto. They had abundance of food for the first time. Governor Bradford called for a Day of Thanksgiving.

Our harvest being gotten, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might, after a special manner, rejoice together after we had gathered the fruit of our labors. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king, Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted; and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation, and bestowed on our governor, and upon the captain and others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God we are so far from want that we are partakers of plenty.

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QUOTES FROM SPEECHES
ABOUT THE PILGRIMS AND THANKSGIVING THROUGHOUT HISTORY

“Let us, in the midst of these reflections, have our hearts enlarged in thanksgiving to God, for his merciful favor to our fathers, and to us by their instrumentality. Let us piously acknowledge the hand of God, in all that has been done for them and us, and to the whole, cry, grace, grace. With what strange gloom are our hearts filled, when we make the supposition, that all our fathers had been left to perish in their attempt! Proportionable to the dreadfulness of such a supposition, let our gratitude be, to our father’s God and our’s. And, out of gratitude to God, let us improve the blessings of life with sobriety, and maintain our liberties with an honorable Christian firmness.”
-Charles Turner, 1773

“…let us not forget the religious character of our origin. Our fathers were brought hither by their high veneration for the Christian religion. They journeyed by its light, and labored in its hope. They sought to incorporate its principles with the elements of their society, and diffuse its influence through all their institutions, civil, political, or literary. Let us cherish these sentiments, and extend this influence still more widely; in full conviction, that that is the happiest society which partakes in the highest degree of the mild and peaceful spirit of Christianity.”
-Daniel Webster, 1851

“Thus out of small beginnings greater things have been produced by His hand that made all things of nothing, and gives being to all things that are; and as one small candle may light a thousand, so the light here kindled hath shone to many, yea in some sort to our whole nation; let the glorious name of Jehovah have all the praise.”
-William Bradford, Of Plimoth Plantation

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A Thanksgiving Meditation

November 15, 20112 Comments

It must have been the most horrifying experience of their lives. Though there were 103 people aboard the ship called The Mayflower, only 54 were from the band of Separatists who had lived in Holland the previous twelve years to escape persecution in England. They were farmers and sheepherders for the most part, though some might have been craftsmen of one trade or another. But never had they been on the high seas. And it must have seemed as though the very demons of hell had been loosed upon them during that fall of 1620.

The storms of the north Atlantic were so fierce and the ship so tossed that the main mast frequently dipped into the waves. It was a disorienting, gut-wrenching experience for even the experienced sailors among them. The small band of believers on board — men, women, an expectant mother and small children among them — were kept in the “tween deck” for fear of the buffeting storms. Many were sick. Some wailed their agonies endlessly through the terrifying nights. The icy winds wailed with them. What a filthy, smelly, terrifying time of testing that was!

But the elements were not the only opposition these Christians, who would soon be called “Pilgrims,” endured. There was one sailor who persisted in calling them “psalm-singing pukestockings,” which are exactly the two things they spent most of their time doing. Though the Pilgrims forgave and prayed for the man’s soul, he was, mysteriously, the only person to die during the voyage.

For 66 days the little ship, no longer than a modern volleyball court, made the treacherous voyage from England to the coast of Massachusetts. And when they arrived, what must their thoughts have been as they scanned the howling wilderness which was to be their home? William Bradford, their Governor, later wrote:

“Being thus passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before in their preparation they had now no friends to welcome them, nor inns to entertain or refresh their weatherbeaten bodys,  no house or much less townes to repair too, to seeke for succoure.” 

“What could sustain them but the spirite of God and his grace. May not and ought not the children of these fathers, rightly say: ‘Our fathers were Englishmen which came over this great ocean, and were ready to perish in this wilderness.’”

 And perish they almost did. More than half of them died during that first winter, often called “the starving time.” At one point, each person’s ration for a day was no more than five kernels of corn. Indian friends like Squanto and Samoset taught the white men how to harvest the bay and the land, but the yield would not be sufficient until the next year. So, they buried their dead and prayed for God’s mercy.

In the spring they planted and began to sense that God had heard their prayers. The previous winter had been the worst of times, but the harvest looked bountiful now, the settlement was growing and God seemed to be smiling upon them.

When the harvest was gathered that fall, Governor Bradford called for some of the men to go hunting in preparation for a great feast to celebrate the goodness of God. Wild fowl, fish from the sea, and venison were prepared in abundance. They invited their Indians friends and these, thankfully, brought five freshly killed deer. The white women prepared hoecakes, cornmeal pudding and a variety of vegetables while the Indian women introduced delicacies like blueberry, apple, and cherry pies. The most welcome new food which the Indians brought with them, though, was a new way of cooking corn in an earthen pot until it became white and fluffy — popcorn!

It was indeed a thanksgiving, but not just for safety and abundance of food. It was also a time to remember the words they had penned about their purpose for coming when they were yet on the The Mayflower. The came, they said, “for the Glory of God and the advancement of the Christian faith,” “for propagating and advancing the gospel of the kingdom of Christ in those remote parts of the world; yea, though they should be but even as stepping-stones unto others for the performing of so great a work.”

So they were. And we ought to remember them this Thanksgiving, and take their mission to our hearts.

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“Thus out of small beginnings greater things have been produced by His hand that made all things of nothing, and gives being to all things that are; and as one small candle may light a thousand, so the light here kindled hath shone to many, yea in some sort to our whole nation; let the glorious name of Jehovah have all the praise.”

William Bradford, Of Plimoth Plantation

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The Virtue of Slow

October 24, 20112 Comments

I had an experience a few days ago and it was so profound that it has nearly become a life philosophy for me. Let me explain.

I strained my back last week. I don’t usually have back problems and I’m actually in pretty good shape but I’ve had a lot of travel recently. During one stretch I hauled a heavy suitcase to multiple speaking events across the country, something I don’t normally do. The beds at some of my hotels attacked me in my sleep. I stupidly worked out too hard one day to compensate for not working the two days prior and, well—I strained my back last week.

This strain wasn’t the profound experience. It was what the strain made me do. Because I was constantly feeling twinges in my lower back, I walked slowly everywhere I went—airports, airplanes, hotels, restaurants, big convention centers—everywhere. Now, usually I’m a fast walker. I have long legs and walking somehow triggers thought and before I know it I’m nearly race-walking through life. More than once I’ve been walking while lost in thought and then realized I’d lost my wife somewhere along the way too. My fault. I walk fast and it makes me drift away into my other, mental world.

So this past week has been a revelation in walking slowly. I don’t limp. I don’t walk with a hitch in my step. I just walk very slowly, very smoothly–like a man with a satisfied mind—whether I am or not. This has changed my orientation to the world and the people in it. Moving slowly, I see more and notice what I might not have. People also see me and this is the big lesson from my week of moving slowly.

While walking through one airport, I noticed what I certainly would not have a week before—a woman in tears. I had just taken note of her when I realized she had already noticed me. I was moving slowly, at a different pace from everyone else and I didn’t appear too busy. “Can you help me?” she said choking back sobs. She had just received some bad news, it turned out, and couldn’t dial her cell phone for her shaking and her tears. It was no big deal to help her, really, but people rushing to planes don’t look like they are interested in such trifles and I, in my diminished speed, did.

Then I got on a plane and after take off a flight attendant asked me what I do. I told her and she said, “I thought so. You just move like a man in rhythm with himself.” Hmm. “In rhythm?” All I had done was slow down, but my pace said to her that something was right about my life. Another man approached me in a restaurant and said, “Are you someone famous?” I am not, of course, though he might have seen me on TV through the years. I asked him why he asked. His answer surprised me. “Just the way you walked into the room, I thought maybe you were someone I should know.” We both laughed when I said that that actually I in was in pain and that there is ample evidence that knowing me is not that great a thrill.

There were other similar episodes and they all convinced me that being slow sent signals and allowed connections I couldn’t have imagined otherwise. I came to realize that I want to be that more present, compassionate, accessible man others perceived me to be this past week. I know I’m not him, not yet. But maybe pace is the key. At the least, it’s a start.

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Prohibition, Part II

October 6, 2011Comment

In honor of Ken Burns’ PBS series entitled Prohibition, I excerpted a portion of my book The Search for God and Guinness in my last blog. I believe that the Prohibition era is one of the most instructive for our time. So below you’ll find the second part of my overview of Prohibition as it first appeared in my book and I hope you enjoy it along with Burns’ fine documentary.

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The legislation that would lead to Prohibition began in 1917 with the passage of the Food Control Act, which gave Woodrow Wilson the authority to regulate the manufacture of beer and wine. Prohibitionists had worked behind the scenes for the passage of the bill knowing that it was a first step toward outlawing alcohol sales. Wilson complied. He required a reduction in beer sales of thirty percent and dramatically limited the alcohol content a beer could contain. It was only a beginning. Immediately, a constitutional amendment was proposed for prohibiting intoxicating drink entirely. This amendment passed in January of 1919 but it needed a accompanying legislation to assure enforcement. In the famous Volstead Act that ensued, an intoxicating beverage was defined as anything containing more than five percent alcohol. Oddly, President Wilson vetoed the act, Congress overrode, and the Supreme Court upheld the act when brewers filed a desperate suit to bring the prohibition mania to an end. On January 17, 1920, the United States became a dry nation.

It would prove to be one of the most foolish governmental acts in American history, a point of discussion on morality and law for generations to come. It had little popular support. A poll taken in 1926 revealed that only 19 percent of Americans favored prohibition and the Eighteenth Amendment that made it law. Prohibition was thus a blow to democracy. It was also a blow to law and order. The more than 177,000 saloons in America prior to Prohibition merely went private, so that in New York alone some 32,000 speakeasies thrived, many eventually providing still other illegal activities, such as prostitution, among their benefits of membership. These establishments were often serviced by thousands of smugglers who focused their efforts on whiskey, gin and rum. Prohibition, then, not only led to illegal trade in alcohol but it also meant that increasing numbers of Americans were drinking hard liquor rather than more moderate and healthy beer. In short, Prohibition increased the consumption of hard liquor in America.

It also increased home-brewing. As H. L. Mencken wrote at the time, “Every second household has become a homebrewer . . . In one American city of 750,000 inhabitants there are now 100 shops devoted exclusively to the sale of beer-making supplies, and lately the proprietor of one of them, by no means the largest, told me that he sold 2,000 pounds of malt-syrup a day.”

The miseries, mysteries and manipulations of Prohibition would last nearly a decade before the Roman Catholic presidential candidate Al Smith of New York made repeal a major theme of his campaign. Though Smith lost his race for the White House, he made repeal acceptable and soon such luminaries as General “Black Jack” Pershing, Walter Chrysler, Harvey Firestone and John Rockefeller were echoing Smith’s cry for change.

Rockefeller was perhaps the most interesting of these because he did not drink alcohol but he did recognize the failure of prohibition.

Failure of the Eighteenth Amendment has demonstrated that the majority of this country are not yet ready for total abstinence, a least when it is attempted through legal coercion. The next best thing—many people think it a better thing—is temperance. Therefore, as I sought to support total abstinence when its achievement seemed possible, so now, and with equal vigor, I would support temperance.

It fell to the newly elected Franklin Delano Roosevelt to call for the end to the madness. Barely a week after taking office, Roosevelt asked Congress to raise the legal alcohol limit of beer to 3.2. Congress complied and though the official end of Prohibition would await the passage of the Twenty-first Amendment in 1933, the end this misguided policy had come.

Prohibition stands as a testimony to the damage that can be done through ignorance of the benefits of beer. Rather than emphasize beer as an antidote to drunkenness, as a healthy alternative to harder drinks which, in excess, ruined men’s lives, Prohibitionists treated all alcohol as the same. This not only meant that hard liquor drinking rose during Prohibition, but that the destruction of breweries removed the societal benefits of beer in the post-Prohibition years. Prior to Prohibition there had been sixteen hundred breweries in America. Only seven hundred reopened when Prohibition was repealed, but more than five hundred of these soon failed, burdened as they were with out of date equipment and inadequate financing. This meant, that, again, during the critical 1930’s when beer might have served a Depression era people well, hard liquor ruled the day. Lives were destroyed, crime and poverty spread as a result. Prohibition had served no better purpose than to ban moderation, both during its reign and in the difficult years afterward.

 

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Prohibition, Part 1

October 4, 20111 Comment

One of the great pleasures of life is a documentary by Ken Burns and his Prohibition series airing recently on PBS is no exception. It beautifully captures the lessons to be learned from the Prohibition era—the good intentions, the folly and the curse of bad public policy.  I don’t drink beer and maybe you don’t either. Still, the Prohibition story is so relevant to our times that I not only urge you to watch the Burns’ treatment but I also want to excerpt a section about Prohibition from my book The Search for God and Guinness here. Enjoy. I’ll put the next part up in a few days.

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There had long been efforts for prohibition of alcohol sales in the United States and it is not hard to understand why. From the earliest days of the colonial era, alcohol had played a vast role in nearly every part of life. Men paid for goods with whiskey, doctors treated wounds with wine and political events were awash with strong drink cynically provided by the politicians themselves. Inebriated men made easy political targets. Whiskey was so prized that when the new federal government decided to tax alcohol sales, a revolt ensued known to history as the “Whiskey Rebellion.”

The popular attitude toward drink was that of earlier generations of Christians: alcohol in moderation is a grace of life but drunkenness is both sin and a plague upon society. As pioneers moved westward and small towns began to dot the plains, the negative effects of alcohol became more pronounced. It would take only a few hard drinking men to terrorize a small community, and only one drunken father and husband to leave a family destitute on the dangerous frontier. Naturally, anti-drink societies formed—understandably led by women—and many a tension arose between the “dry” and “wet” factions of the American west.

As anti-alcohol sentiments increased, entire states banned alcohol sales. Maine was first in 1851 with Rhode Island, Massachusetts and Vermont following in 1852. A year later, Michigan followed suit as did Connecticut in 1854. These laws were loosely and incompetently enforced, though, and this only led to increased frustration on the part of temperance groups. Finally, anti-alcohol sentiments merged with religious beliefs and led to the formation of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union in 1874. This body thrived in the rural sections of the country and led, in time, to the rise of the legendary Carrie Nation—the widow who took axe in hand and hacked to pieces the saloon where she believed her husband once drank himself to death. Her exploits captured the imagination of many Americas and, in an age of anti-corruption reform, the war on alcohol gathered strength.

In retrospect, brewers seemed unaware of these currents of change. Believing rightly that beer and alcohol had always been a valued part of America life, brewers throughout the U.S. saw little threat in the gathering anti-alcohol storm. They continued to cite the American heritage of moderate alcohol use and even proclaimed a favorite truism from the era of the founding fathers: “The Brewery is the best pharmacy.” They were tragically unaware of their times. They were unable to see what would come of women gaining political power, many of these women armed with tales of the devastation excessive drink had meant for their families. They could not have understood how World War I would lead to fiery anti-German sentiment and how this in turn would focus rage on the largely German trade of brewing beer. And they could not have foreseen how many a politician, riding an anti-corruption wave, would blame alcohol for most of the country’s woes and thus come to proclaim prohibition as a national panacea. When brewers in America did wake up to the prevailing trends, there was little they could do.

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My Next Book

September 15, 2011Comment

I am eagerly looking forward to the release of my next book, the cover of which you see here. Though I admire Oprah Winfrey for all that she has accomplished, I am deeply disturbed by the brew of spirituality she has encouraged through her various media. In this book, I carefully describe her rise to fame, her turning to alternative spirituality, the influence of Baby Boomer history on her life, the spokesmen for New Age spirituality she has promoted on her show and her religious influence upon our culture. I’m looking forward to exploring the themes of this book with readers around the world in the coming months. By the way, the book releases in mid-October.

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