"You can't change me, old man. I am the last of the black Protestants." In this whimsical way Frank Nelson spoke of himself one day in conversation with a friend on some point of ritual. It is abundantly evident that he was in no way a bigoted churchman, and with all his fine, broad sympathies he stood forth as a Protestant. He represented that aspect of the Catholic-Protestant structure of the Episcopal Church, he conducted the services in Christ Church from that angle, his preaching reflected it, and the absence of the clerical collar emphasized it. There is a measure of truth in his droll description of himself.
In the first decades of this century Mr. Nelson was one of a group of broad-churchmen whose influence was just beginning to be felt. Theologically he was a liberal with reservations, and stood in what is now called "Central Anglicanism" in the sense of "essential orthodoxy, continuity, and breadth and liberality within limits, checked by the principle of discipline, and an outlook, above all, theocentric; fidelity to Christianity as the religion of the Incarnation, and of the Church viewed as Christ's mystical body."[13]
The truth is that he was different from certain brands of so-called liberals. Like many of them he was an individualist but not, as in the popular conception of that word, an eccentric. His individualism resided in his strong personality, whole and complete rather than partial. He had an immense scorn of the petty narrow-minded points of view. He said, "There is no one so narrow as the broad-minded liberal! Look out! Be sure that you do not develop a closed mind toward the other man's point of view!" Frank Nelson stood in the stream of the best traditions of historic Anglicanism. He had, for instance, a tremendous feeling of reverence for the Altar and the appointments for the celebration of the Holy Communion; and his manner ofconducting the Lord's Supper brought that service very close to the most sensitive of worshipers. On the first Sunday of each month the Holy Communion was celebrated at eight and at elevenA.M., and he made it the chief factor in building up the younger members of the parish into the Church. Usually Christ Church was crowded for the first as well as the later service, and it was immensely impressive to contemplate the congregation that came at the early hour of eight o'clock from all parts of the city and from distant suburbs. There is communicated serenity as well as reverence in the stately, liturgical service, but that feeling-tone is dependent on the minister conducting it. Mr. Nelson was a medium for the communication of the very spirit of Christ in that service. The ancient, familiar words were given a fresh beauty by his manner and his natural, virile voice. His methods reflected certain qualities of his character. It was his custom to read the service up through the Sanctus from the north end of the Altar, moving to the center for the remainder, and at the moment of the consecration of the Bread and Wine to turn halfway around so that the congregation could see the blessing of the Elements. It was in part an observance of the Apostolic custom of the minister's standing behind the Altar and facing the congregation, and one which he had learned from his days at St. George's under Dr. Rainsford.
In a time of much disparagement, Frank Nelson and his parish upheld the fair reputation of the Church. Bishop Hobson says, "Many a minister and many a church have taken heart and courage because of his ministry." Because he was unafraid to experiment and venture on fresh approaches to old problems, he risked misunderstanding and criticism. He had a marked sense of the dignity of his office, and all who worked on the staff of Christ Church were aware that he was the rector, a czar if you will, but one with a gloved hand. He ran the parish, but not for his own sake nor from delight in power. As a matter of fact, he distrusted power, particularly when wielded by small men in the office of Bishop, and because of that distrust, and because of the democratic nature of the government of the Episcopal Church,he held the leadership of rectors to be equal in value to that of the Episcopate.
In the management of the parish, he was "a man set under authority." He expected hard work of those to whom he delegated responsibility. Though he occasionally interfered, he invariably backed up his leaders even when they were in the wrong. He did not hesitate to criticize: a retiring choir-master said to his successor, "He is a tyrant, and you won't last three months." After eighteen years, he is still there! There were those who sometimes found Mr. Nelson abrupt, but as they came to understand his temperament and to appreciate his insistence that things should be run decently and in order, they were the very ones who would have stood on their heads for him because his nature inspired endless devotion. It is easy to lose sight of human values in a large institution, but he was the kind of person who was quick to apologize for any rudeness, and if the instance had to do with some fine point of procedure, he would grin and say, "But I was right!"—and he was. A unique thing about his rectorship was his willingness to take the blame upon himself when something went wrong. He felt he was at fault for not having given his subordinates the right training. The conception he held of his office of rector impelled him to give each year a comprehensive report of his parish work along with an audited financial accounting of all monies that he had handled personally.
In the services of Christ Church, Frank Nelson's individuality found complete expression. The Prayer Book offices were marked by an absence of ceremonial, but filled with a profound simplicity and a noble dignity. People coming from other parishes and accustomed to considerable ritual and better architecture (Christ Church has been likened to a Moorish mosque!) learned that such externals occupy in reality a subordinate position in the Christian life, as the rector's manner and forceful preaching lifted them to the plane of spirit-filled worship. He was concerned not withthe creation of an atmosphere in which to bathe with satisfaction one's feelings about God but with the living message of the Gospel. One came at last to love the old church building because there the spirit was fed, the mind enlightened, and the will impelled to action.
People came to be in his presence. They found a new, bright sense of the glory of religious faith; they felt how precious is the least of the human vessels into which God pours His Spirit. The man in himself communicated a personality so wholly infused with the grace of the Lord Jesus that his hearers were stirred to action, which result stems from the authentic note in preaching. "Effective preaching can only mean effective in the sense of doing God's work."[14]Frank Nelson did God's work. He stirred people to do God's work. The atmosphere of conviction generated by the preacher is due to his whole personality rather than to his words; hence the impact made upon his hearers at the moment of his speaking is never conveyed through the printed page. Its influence, however, continues in their lives, and measured by this standard Frank Nelson was a powerful and effective preacher. The gift of swift, magnetic, eloquent speech was his. Words with the quality and vigor of intuitive imagination poured out of him. Yet preaching was never easy for him, and as it was dominated by his characteristic intensity and fervor, he was nervous beforehand and exhausted afterward. His emotional range sometimes led him off the main thread of a discourse; at times he ranted; and more than once preached an entirely different sermon from the one outlined in his written notes. His preaching was "feeling warmed up to vision," and the word of God passed through him to men. He believed tremendously in preaching; there were few services in Christ Church at which he did notpreach,[15]but he was not a so-called 53popular preacher; crowds did not constantly fill the pews. To some his driving power was wearing, and even some of his admirers would exclaim, "Oh, I do wish Mr. Nelson would not tear his throat so when he preaches." But his very force of delivery, and his vehemence were a part of the man, and he no more could have preached in another manner than have changed his stature.
But these characteristics had compensations or off-setting factors. After Mr. Nelson's exchange with the rector of St. Paul's Church, Rome, Italy in 1912, a certain dowager commented, "Mr. Lowrie's sermons made me feel comfortable, but Mr. Nelson makes me feel a miserable sinner!" A newcomer, on his first Sunday in Cincinnati, went to Christ Church intending to "sample" several churches before casting his lot with one. The choir came in, followed by a young, boyish-looking clergyman whom the man presumed to be the assistant. During the sermon Mr. Nelson continually entangled himself in his stole and gave the impression of one so inextricably caught up in his message that he was a part of it, stole and all! The newcomer was Frederick C. Hicks, later the President of the University of Cincinnati. He did not go elsewhere but continued at Christ Church and eventually became a vestryman.
Mr. Nelson did not talk in an amiable sort of way about the Christian virtues; his sermons, thank God, were not colorless essays on the doctrine of God, and the Church. He preached with abandon, and there issued forth a fiery stream of conviction that stabbed his hearers into life. Within those in whom the seedfound good soil there was reproduced his hunger for righteousness, his integrity of character. What we heard from the pulpit of Christ Church was the product of hard-won battles, the forthrightness of a man stirred by his struggle to live as a follower of Jesus Christ. He was no respecter of persons but of personality, saying "We don't dare to be Christians." Some said Frank Nelson did not preach doctrinal sermons, but if not, then church doctrine needs another name, for this man preached the Christian faith, pouring it forth in great bucketfuls. If after hearing him one didn't know something about the revelation of God in Jesus Christ, then there is no such thing as doctrine.
The rector was sensitive about his failure to attract larger congregations, and deprecated his ability as a speaker. He was forever saying that he could not preach, and that he preached too long, but jested that he was too old to change! Once in the midst of an after-dinner speech, he paused to make an aside to his friend, J. Hollister Lynch, "Am I talking too long?" "Yes," whispered Dr. Lynch, but he kept right on! Cincinnati is not a church-going city like Pittsburgh, for instance, but, as one witty observer has remarked, "Cincinnati has fewer moral lapses!" In making judgments on this point, one should take into consideration the fact that there was a large Roman Catholic constituency, and that the predominant German population of Cincinnati which came in such large numbers during the middle of the nineteenth century, was definitely anti-religious. Christ Church, moreover, is a downtown church, and the greater number of the communicants live in suburbs. His parish took him for granted as was inevitable over a forty-year period, but when we recall his multiple civic associations, and the fact that whenever he spoke there was a religious foundation to his address and in his presence, we perceive that Mr. Nelson's preaching reached far beyond the bounds of Christ Church.
The sermons of Frank Nelson were pervaded with a fine ethical perception. He was in the succession of the ancient Hebrew prophets in their profound love of justice and concern for humanity. He had a keen, quick feeling for spiritual values, andsucceeded in relating them in vital fashion to the throbbing stress of daily living. Beyond his piercing eloquence, captivating as it most certainly was, was the compelling fact that in his interpretation of the religious significance of human experience he stood forth like a pine tree towering above scraggly growth. No one can ever forget that tall, dynamic figure in the spacious pulpit of Christ Church preaching the Word of God with gripping power. It was not merely the power of virility and eloquence, but the power of grasp, of comprehension, the ability to communicate truth and make it come alive, and cry out for expression in the hearts and lives of his hearers. We felt the majesty of the human spirit, the impatience of sure faith with the rags and blemishes of doubt and cynicism. "Like rain upon the mown grass, as showers that water the earth," Frank Nelson poured out his soul, and revealed the grand proportions of human destiny.
In his beautiful address at the Helen S. Trounstine Memorial Service, a portion of which follows, we find one of the best examples of Mr. Nelson's ability to interpret human experience, as well as of his intuitive understanding of another's travail of soul:
And then her courage. There are the lesser courages and the greater. There are many who dare face danger and undertake hard tasks, and face ridicule and failure. It is a fine and a true courage and I do not underrate it. Helen Trounstine had it and had it to the full. She tackled hard tasks; she faced some men whose interests she opposed. She fought out her fights against all comers, and never flinched. She would go into the court or into the saloon or dance hall, the places of commercial recreation, and fight her fight with all, for what she believed to be right; and she won most of the time. It was a noble thing to see that delicate woman unafraid before the problems and evils of the world.Yet that was not the finest courage she had. That other finer courage is the one that I would emphasize. It was given her to reconcile a spirit filled with high ideals and great desires, with a body weak, often bent and torn with pain, unsuited to the tasks she longed to do, until at last she was stricken with utterhelplessness waiting for the end. For only a few brief years was her body adequate, even a little, to her will. And instead of bending before that limitation and saying that she could do nothing because of it, instead of growing bitter with resentment at a fate that had so burdened her, she but grappled with it the more determinedly. With utter courage of heart and mind, she fought her inner fight and won the victory of cheer and energy and peace. With no excuse and no complaints, and no relaxing of her will before the limitations of her strength, she lived and loved and served as if she had the health she longed for. The limitations of her stricken body meant the giving up of many dear desires, of hopes that would have made life sweet and joyous, of work she yearned to undertake.Any of you who have had much to do with one stricken with a sore disease, who knows he never can be well again, know that it is not the sickness, the physical weakness and pain that make the problem and the tragedy. It is the reconciling of the will to surrender life's hopes and the readjustment of the life to the conditions that have got to be, that nothing can change. That was Helen Trounstine's problem and her tragedy. She sat down with her fate and fought that fight and won it. It must have meant many hours of untold darkness and suffering and bitter questioning and struggle. But of such hours she gave us no outward sign. At least I saw none in the years I knew her, except that finest one of all, the victory of her soul in the glad and joyous doing of what remained within her power.
And then her courage. There are the lesser courages and the greater. There are many who dare face danger and undertake hard tasks, and face ridicule and failure. It is a fine and a true courage and I do not underrate it. Helen Trounstine had it and had it to the full. She tackled hard tasks; she faced some men whose interests she opposed. She fought out her fights against all comers, and never flinched. She would go into the court or into the saloon or dance hall, the places of commercial recreation, and fight her fight with all, for what she believed to be right; and she won most of the time. It was a noble thing to see that delicate woman unafraid before the problems and evils of the world.
Yet that was not the finest courage she had. That other finer courage is the one that I would emphasize. It was given her to reconcile a spirit filled with high ideals and great desires, with a body weak, often bent and torn with pain, unsuited to the tasks she longed to do, until at last she was stricken with utterhelplessness waiting for the end. For only a few brief years was her body adequate, even a little, to her will. And instead of bending before that limitation and saying that she could do nothing because of it, instead of growing bitter with resentment at a fate that had so burdened her, she but grappled with it the more determinedly. With utter courage of heart and mind, she fought her inner fight and won the victory of cheer and energy and peace. With no excuse and no complaints, and no relaxing of her will before the limitations of her strength, she lived and loved and served as if she had the health she longed for. The limitations of her stricken body meant the giving up of many dear desires, of hopes that would have made life sweet and joyous, of work she yearned to undertake.
Any of you who have had much to do with one stricken with a sore disease, who knows he never can be well again, know that it is not the sickness, the physical weakness and pain that make the problem and the tragedy. It is the reconciling of the will to surrender life's hopes and the readjustment of the life to the conditions that have got to be, that nothing can change. That was Helen Trounstine's problem and her tragedy. She sat down with her fate and fought that fight and won it. It must have meant many hours of untold darkness and suffering and bitter questioning and struggle. But of such hours she gave us no outward sign. At least I saw none in the years I knew her, except that finest one of all, the victory of her soul in the glad and joyous doing of what remained within her power.
It is not surprising that his addresses on Good Friday and his sermons on Easter Day were more nearly adequate to those great days than is commonly the case. He cared for these days tremendously, and never ceased to be heartened by the throngs that crowded the old church, filled up the chancel, and stood in the vestibule through the Three Hours on Good Friday. It seemed as if the whole city was aroused as people from offices and factories, and from the outlying districts came to these special services year after year during his long rectorship. It stirs the imagination to think of that gathering, the rich and the poor, the highly-cultivated, and the meekly endowed, shop girls and clerks,the faithful and those groping for faith, all drawn by the mysterious fire kindled by this man of God. There was a concentrated intensity to his preaching on these occasions, for he saw clearly and felt deeply the tragedies of life. In that vibrant voice and in his passionate concern for the soul of men, there burned a white-souled homage to God, and a faith and love that spoke to each one's condition. Out of his long brooding over the darkly colored stream of history, and the chequered progress of Christianity of which his daily contact with the city's life as well as his study gave him profound knowledge, there came forth "great out-bursts of unshakable certainty which stand up like Alpine peaks in the spiritual landscape of humanity." The integrity of the man along with the power and dramatic quality of his speech was unveiled for all the world to see. One recalls in this particular a certain Good Friday after World War I when he took up Sarah Bernhardt's ghastly reversal of the First Word from the Cross, "Father, donotforgive them for theyknowwhat they do," and with terrific intensity literally shouted, "That is a lie straight from hell."
His preaching always illumined a fine feeling for the mastery of language, and those who heard him over the span of the years were conscious that in his Good Friday addresses he employed plain, Anglo-Saxon words, fundamental, strong words that lent a cumulative effect to his speech. Because of his modesty he never consented to the publication of any of his Good Friday addresses, which is lamentable for without a doubt they represent his best preaching. A full, stenographic report, however, was made of his last addresses in 1939, and certain paragraphs from the Third Word may well be quoted. This Word from the Cross, "When Jesus therefore saw his mother and the disciple standing by whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother!", was greatly loved by his people because he gave to it an interpretation that was entirely original:
As those of you who have been here on other Good Fridays know, I give that my own interpretation. Some say that I amwrong: that when Jesus Christ said "Woman, behold thy son," He meant He was directing her attention to His friend, St. John, who would be a son to her now that He was going away. Perhaps. But I like to think the other way: that He was revealing to that mother of His the thing that should justify her motherhood, and her faith, and her love. He was saying, as it seems to me, things like this:"Behold, your Son, bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh. Known and yet unknown. The Son whom the angel announced to you long ago among the Judean hills. The things that you have treasured and pondered in your heart must be brought out now to allow God to open to you their hidden meaning. For I am your Son, your first-born. In these years of wonder and strangeness I have not forgotten the love and care and protection given me. Through you I grew up in the knowledge of the Scriptures and the love of God's House. No, I have not forgotten those years in the carpenter's shop in Nazareth, and the laboring for daily bread. Neither was it easy to break away, and leave home, but God called me, and deep down in your heart you were glad that God chose me—it was the confirmation of all that the angels had whispered in your heart. You were proud of me, sure that God had somewhat in store for me that had never been known in the world, never known to the mothers of other sons. And then murmurs came to you of opposition, of the hostility of men high up in the synagogues, weird reports of my deeds, and strange teachings, and finally all that I said and did seemed to go against the authority and sanctions of your religion, and you were fearful of my mind. And now I have come to this disgraceful end. This cross is the fruitage of those thirty years spent with you and in the fulfilling of God's pleasure. This fruitage of the Cross is not the fruitage that God gives to the sons of evil as seems to be the just fruitage of these thieves crucified beside me. In reality this Cross is the crown of my life, and some day the world will see it, and take Me unto itself, and the Cross will have become a throne."It is the word of justification and comfort that Jesus gives the broken-hearted Mary. It is the word of God to woman. "Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face." In Jesus, the son of Mary, we see what the world will be like 'when the years have died away.'
As those of you who have been here on other Good Fridays know, I give that my own interpretation. Some say that I amwrong: that when Jesus Christ said "Woman, behold thy son," He meant He was directing her attention to His friend, St. John, who would be a son to her now that He was going away. Perhaps. But I like to think the other way: that He was revealing to that mother of His the thing that should justify her motherhood, and her faith, and her love. He was saying, as it seems to me, things like this:
"Behold, your Son, bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh. Known and yet unknown. The Son whom the angel announced to you long ago among the Judean hills. The things that you have treasured and pondered in your heart must be brought out now to allow God to open to you their hidden meaning. For I am your Son, your first-born. In these years of wonder and strangeness I have not forgotten the love and care and protection given me. Through you I grew up in the knowledge of the Scriptures and the love of God's House. No, I have not forgotten those years in the carpenter's shop in Nazareth, and the laboring for daily bread. Neither was it easy to break away, and leave home, but God called me, and deep down in your heart you were glad that God chose me—it was the confirmation of all that the angels had whispered in your heart. You were proud of me, sure that God had somewhat in store for me that had never been known in the world, never known to the mothers of other sons. And then murmurs came to you of opposition, of the hostility of men high up in the synagogues, weird reports of my deeds, and strange teachings, and finally all that I said and did seemed to go against the authority and sanctions of your religion, and you were fearful of my mind. And now I have come to this disgraceful end. This cross is the fruitage of those thirty years spent with you and in the fulfilling of God's pleasure. This fruitage of the Cross is not the fruitage that God gives to the sons of evil as seems to be the just fruitage of these thieves crucified beside me. In reality this Cross is the crown of my life, and some day the world will see it, and take Me unto itself, and the Cross will have become a throne."
It is the word of justification and comfort that Jesus gives the broken-hearted Mary. It is the word of God to woman. "Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face." In Jesus, the son of Mary, we see what the world will be like 'when the years have died away.'
It was on these special occasions that he so frequently was inspired. Easter Day, for instance, with its many services and huge congregations stimulated him to the utmost, and to many of us it seemed as if we stood in one of the vestibules of immortality, certainly in the temple of this man's faith. He preached at both the eight and the eleven o'clock services, and each time with undiminished vigor and clarity of thought. In the interim, he personally greeted all the parishioners who remained after the first service for breakfast in the parish house.
Frank Nelson loved the ministry, and his convictions glowed and radiated pervasively. Innumerable scenes flood the memory, and I recall an ordinary Sunday which included the early celebration of the Holy Communion at eight forty-fiveA.M.; an address to his Chapel Class at nine forty-five; and a sermon at eleven o'clock; in addition to all these he went, in the afternoon, to a labor union memorial service. There he repeated the morning's sermon from the text, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." It was the fruit of all his ministry to the bereaved, and of his penetrating, sympathetic insight into the loneliness and devastation of death's inroads. As he brought the Christian faith to bear upon the problem, he imparted by clarity of thought and eloquence of words as well as by accent and genuineness of emotion that certitude which is possible only for one who himself possesses that which he proclaims. This sermon was a notable example of Phillips Brooks' definition of preaching, "Truth conveyed through personality." The few notes here included give only a glimmer of the range of his thought, and do not adequately convey the personal factor which made one want to rise up and call him blessed:
Men have ever striven to conquer death, and never succeeded. Christ too died and though He rose from the dead, He did not return to this life and take up its habits and tasks again. St. Paul was not thinking of overcoming death in this way, but rather of the new consciousness and gift of power that Christ has given men. Christianity is a conquering power. Faces what appearsto be the impossible, what experience declares to be impossible, but does so with the word that "all things are subject to Christ." "We see not yet all things put under him—but we see Jesus." There is nothing that may not become subject to the spirit of man through Christ.Christ facing human problems: the fear of God's wrath, superstitions arising from doubt of God's moral goodness, sickness, sorrow, hopelessness, sin, worldliness, bitterness of spirit and mind, suffering, and at last conquering death as an enemy by His resurrection.Death's mastery over us is not a physical thing. It is its power over our spirits, its apparent defeat of hope, of work begun, of love entered into, of faith laid hold upon, and the bitterness that is the fruit of that defeat. Through Christ the power of achievement was strengthened, and released by death. We resent death perhaps—reason for shrinking is that so impersonal and physical a process should be able to overcome a spiritual consciousness and experience. We resent always the victory of a lower over a higher order. (Feb. 28, 1926)
Men have ever striven to conquer death, and never succeeded. Christ too died and though He rose from the dead, He did not return to this life and take up its habits and tasks again. St. Paul was not thinking of overcoming death in this way, but rather of the new consciousness and gift of power that Christ has given men. Christianity is a conquering power. Faces what appearsto be the impossible, what experience declares to be impossible, but does so with the word that "all things are subject to Christ." "We see not yet all things put under him—but we see Jesus." There is nothing that may not become subject to the spirit of man through Christ.
Christ facing human problems: the fear of God's wrath, superstitions arising from doubt of God's moral goodness, sickness, sorrow, hopelessness, sin, worldliness, bitterness of spirit and mind, suffering, and at last conquering death as an enemy by His resurrection.
Death's mastery over us is not a physical thing. It is its power over our spirits, its apparent defeat of hope, of work begun, of love entered into, of faith laid hold upon, and the bitterness that is the fruit of that defeat. Through Christ the power of achievement was strengthened, and released by death. We resent death perhaps—reason for shrinking is that so impersonal and physical a process should be able to overcome a spiritual consciousness and experience. We resent always the victory of a lower over a higher order. (Feb. 28, 1926)
Frank Nelson combined a happy idealism with common sense, and when the occasion moved him to inspired utterance, he drew upon the deep wells of his being, and spoke without effort as waters flow from a fountain. This quality characterized many of his speeches, such as the one in Music Hall after the Armistice of 1918 which he himself considered his best, and those at Masonic gatherings when men flocked to drink in his words and to be in his presence. He overshadowed other speakers, and what Henry Ward Beecher said of another is doubtless applicable to Mr. Nelson: "When he speaks first, I do not care to follow him, and if I speak first, then when he gets up I wish I had not spoken at all."
The worth of so much preaching troubled him at times, and he too had his darker moments. Sometimes he paced up and down Howard Bacon's study never saying a word, or perhaps bursting out in boyish petulance, "When I am down, the parish is down. Why can't they stay up?" At a staff meeting one morning he told the incident of an organization that had requested him toaddress them, and when he asked on what subject, the reply was "Oh! just talk!" He passed this off as a sort of reflection on his fluency of words.
Preaching was desperate business to him because "the burden of the Word of the Lord" lay upon him, and if he rose to great heights, he also was dashed down to the depths. To preach for forty years from the same pulpit is an exacting task, and the net result of such an experience is no better summed up than in the remark of a humble parishioner by whose house he was walking one morning with Frederick C. Hicks. It was Monday, and the woman was hanging out her wash. Mr. Nelson said, "Let's stop and ask her what she remembers of my sermon." The good soul was non-plussed, and could not recall even his text. And then with a leap of inspired insight she said, "But Mr. Nelson, this cloth is whiter every time I pour water over it." Perhaps this is the lasting effect on every humble soul who patiently waits as God communicates His truth in earthen vessels.
People came to be in Frank Nelson's presence. He never let them down. He had said of William S. Rainsford's preaching: We came here as church people, professing the faith, and as "we sat before him we saw poured forth the reality of the thing we had professed to believe in ... He took us to whom religion was a profession, and made it a passion." Christ Church people find these words set up poignant echoes of a day when they sat before Frank Nelson and heard the living Word of God.
[13]Central Anglicanism, Charles W. Lowry, Jr.The WitnessMay 27, 1943. Used by permission.
[13]Central Anglicanism, Charles W. Lowry, Jr.The WitnessMay 27, 1943. Used by permission.
[14]The Servant of The Word, Farmer p. 6, Charles Scribner's Sons. Used by permission.
[14]The Servant of The Word, Farmer p. 6, Charles Scribner's Sons. Used by permission.
[15]Farmer in his brilliant book,The Servant of the Word, makes this illuminating comment on preaching:"The wisdom of the reformers appears in always associating the speaking of the word with the other sacraments, and the protestant habit, which is sometimes derided, of always having an address at every meeting is seen to have sound reason behind it. It is part of our whole understanding and valuation of the person and the personal way in which God deals with him. I want the thrusting intrusiveness, the interjection, of another's serious speech. I believe there can be no substitute for the sermon."Ibidpp. 80-81.
[15]Farmer in his brilliant book,The Servant of the Word, makes this illuminating comment on preaching:
"The wisdom of the reformers appears in always associating the speaking of the word with the other sacraments, and the protestant habit, which is sometimes derided, of always having an address at every meeting is seen to have sound reason behind it. It is part of our whole understanding and valuation of the person and the personal way in which God deals with him. I want the thrusting intrusiveness, the interjection, of another's serious speech. I believe there can be no substitute for the sermon."Ibidpp. 80-81.
"He was easily the prince of us all in diocese and national church."—ZeBarney Phillips
"He was easily the prince of us all in diocese and national church."
—ZeBarney Phillips
The diocese of southern Ohio, of which Christ Church is a part, was vastly strengthened by the leadership of Frank Nelson. In the earlier years of his rectorship he had had little time for diocesan affairs, not that he was indifferent, but he was essentially the kind of person who did one thing at a time, and never allowed himself to be diverted from the immediate task. Moreover, because he was impelled by burning convictions to express freely his pronounced views, he was considered radical, and was misunderstood and disliked by many churchmen. The diocese of those earlier years was conservative and static, and politics then played a more weighty part than now. A clerical friend in speaking of Mr. Nelson candidly stated, "I had to grow into friendship with him. In those early days I had a sort of prejudice against him as a militant opponent of things, but I soon saw my mistake and recognized that he was of nobler cast." He never sought position, and never until 1916, with one exception, was he elected a deputy to the General Convention, which is the highest body of authority in the Episcopal Church. Even when the Convention met in Cincinnati in 1910 and Christ Church was the host to numerous services and meetings, he had no vote. Until 1916 he had represented his diocese at the General Convention only in 1904; he was defeated for re-election in 1907 because he had defended Dr. Algernon Crapsey in a once famous heresy trial.
His larger interest in the diocese probably had its beginning when in 1908 as a member of the Social Service Commission he visited the Hocking Valley, and was shocked by the abominable living conditions of the miners and the almost intolerable injustice of their economic circumstances. His interest, thus fired, increased with the years until he came to be depended upon in every sphere of diocesan life, serving on the Standing Committee, the Bishop and Chapter, the Board of Strategy and Finance, and in practically every other committee and department of importance. He was most insistent on maintaining the missionary program, which he held to be the very heart-beat of the life of the Church. Evenduring depressions, Christ Church never lowered its missionary giving of $24,000, and one year voted $3000.00 from its parish budget to make up a deficit in the missionary budget because as he said "We have failed to educate the people." His thorough knowledge and good judgment were of infinite value to a succession of bishops. On the occasion of Mr. Nelson's Fortieth Anniversary, the present Bishop, Henry Wise Hobson said, "In all parts of the Diocese I have heard clergy and lay people say such words as these: 'The spirit of honesty, courage, fellowship, and service which has grown up in the life of our Diocese is primarily the result of the influence of Frank Nelson, whose own spirit has been a contagious force in our midst.'" Others who have observed the remarkable growth and increasing strength of this Diocese say that its present vitality has been generated, not by numbers, nor by wealth, but by the passionate spirit of certain recognizable characters of whom Frank Nelson was easily the leader. During Bishop Reese's long illness, Mr. Nelson largely conducted the business of the Diocese, and for a man with such positive convictions, he was extremely fair in presiding at the Convention. He leaned over backward to be just, and did not silence even those who brought up petty reasons for disagreement on the subjects under debate.
When in 1929 the illness of Bishop Reese necessitated his resignation, the Diocese spontaneously turned to Frank Nelson as his successor. There is a certain piquancy in the contemplation of the change that by this time had come over the Diocese. A man who at one time had been distrusted, and branded as radical if not reckless, had so won the respect and affection of his associates that they desired to express their trust and belief in him by electing him to the highest office of his Church. Reverend Sidney E. Sweet, now Dean of Christ Church Cathedral, St. Louis, nominated Mr. Nelson at the Convention saying, "He is a man whose intellectual and spiritual gifts rank him with the finest in the Church throughout the United States. It will make the Diocese of Southern Ohio proud to present the name of Dr. Nelson to the House of Bishops as the representative of this Diocese." Another discerningfriend, Alfred Segal ofThe Cincinnati Post, put the case dramatically when he wrote in his column: "The other day Rev. Frank Nelson stood on the threshold of ecclesiastical glory. He needed but to take one step and he would have been on his way to the eminence of Bishop. But he turned away, though many welcoming hands beckoned him."
In declining the nomination, Mr. Nelson said that his decision came as a result of consultation with friends whose opinions he valued, and from his own best judgment which counselled against his acceptance. He felt that it was desirable to elect a man with no local associations, and his own long ties with the diocese made him an unsuitable candidate. He had confided in friends his lack of diocesan consciousness, and confessed a reluctance to assume at his age another kind of work. Furthermore, the parish of Christ Church and the city were by now so deeply embedded in his very soul that even a change, if not a severance, of such ties was unthinkable. He put forward the name of Dr. Howard Chandler Robbins, who later refused the election. The selection of Dr. Robbins, important as it was, nonetheless seemed secondary to the insistent attempts of leaders to place this humble servant in the office of Bishop. Upon Mr. Nelson's entry into the luncheon hall after the convention, he was greeted by a tremendous ovation. He was a strong man among strong men. The following letter from the late Right Reverend William Lawrence of Massachusetts did not dissuade him from his firm decision:
November 22, 1929My dear Frank:You well know that it is my rule not to "butt in," but as a Pullman conductor once told me, "there ain't no use in having rules that you can't break when you have to."I believe that you respect my judgment; my judgment is that you are the one man who has the qualifications to be Bishop of Southern Ohio. I know your loyalty to your parish and your humble estimate of yourself. But the Diocese and the opportunity which the Church will give you as Bishop are greater than yourparish. Think of Trinity, Boston, at Brooks' election and its result today. Spaulding of Utah brought into the House of Bishops a breeze of fresh air, a new life and courage which abide there still—You will do the same.Think of the cheer that your election will bring to Vincent, Reese, and the whole Diocese.Let them have your name and your life. I never wrote such a letter before and no one knows that I am doing it now.Yours affectionately,William Lawrence.
November 22, 1929
You well know that it is my rule not to "butt in," but as a Pullman conductor once told me, "there ain't no use in having rules that you can't break when you have to."
I believe that you respect my judgment; my judgment is that you are the one man who has the qualifications to be Bishop of Southern Ohio. I know your loyalty to your parish and your humble estimate of yourself. But the Diocese and the opportunity which the Church will give you as Bishop are greater than yourparish. Think of Trinity, Boston, at Brooks' election and its result today. Spaulding of Utah brought into the House of Bishops a breeze of fresh air, a new life and courage which abide there still—You will do the same.
Think of the cheer that your election will bring to Vincent, Reese, and the whole Diocese.
Let them have your name and your life. I never wrote such a letter before and no one knows that I am doing it now.
Yours affectionately,William Lawrence.
At the succeeding convention another concerted effort was made to induce Mr. Nelson to become Bishop. It was refreshing to find the office seeking the man, especially a man who had never sought for himself positions of prestige, a man never found in the society of office seekers. Although he was gratefully aware of the well-meaning intentions of his friends, and felt in the proposed honor the warmth of their personal affection, he did not want it said that he had permitted the election and then declined it. In as tactful a manner as possible he labored to prevent the Committee on Nominations from presenting his name. During a stormy session of the Committee a movement was under way to over-ride Mr. Nelson's wishes and present his name as the nominee of the Committee anyway. At this juncture Dr. Hicks, his close friend and a Vestryman of Christ Church, rose and protested with considerable indignation, "Gentlemen, this means you simply do not know Frank Nelson." The debate went on, but Mr. Nelson remained firm, saying on the Convention floor, "Imaynot be Bishop of Southern Ohio," and he used the wordmayin the ancient sense of having "power to prevent." "I cherish the tribute, but I tell you without recourse to thought or prayer that I cannot do it." Finally, the Convention proceeded to the happy election of Henry Wise Hobson, and the Diocese of Southern Ohio remembers with gratitude that it owes Bishop Hobson to Frank Nelson.
From 1916 until his death, Mr. Nelson was a deputy to the triennial meetings of every General Convention, and became theprincipal spokesman in the House of Deputies. This body is not always as decorous and staid in its deliberations as the House of Bishops, but Mr. Nelson at all times commanded a respectful hearing among the deputies. He came to be one of the leaders who, as a veteran church-paper correspondent put it, "could read the signs of the times." His opinions carried enormous weight though not habitually swaying votes.
In Diocesan circles as well as in Christ Church, he was absolutely fearless in utterance, and was among those who were eager for the Episcopal Church to make large ventures of faith. Like Bishop Brent, he commanded a vision and a breadth of spirit which were incomprehensible to those who could not conceive of a universal Christianity free of sectarian doctrines and dogmas. In this respect he reflected and perpetuated the greatness of Phillips Brooks who thus stated his position: "I cannot live truly with the men of my own church unless I also have a consciousness of common life with all Christian believers, with all religious men, with all mankind." As a natural consequence of such conviction, Mr. Nelson was insistent that the Episcopal Church become a constituent member of the Federal Council of Churches, and lived to see accomplished that small but significant step towards cooperation among the churches.
In the debates that occurred in various years on such subjects as the proposal to eliminate the word "Protestant" from the official name of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America, and on the status of the Presiding Bishop, he was very firm but kindly and tactful in setting forth the Protestant emphasis in the Catholic-Protestant fabric of his church. He argued that the word "Protestant" in the title is there to protect the right of every sort of churchman. His candor was disarming, and he could get away with such unvarnished statements as this: "As you know I am a Protestant of the Protestants. I do not belong to the Catholic party in the Episcopal Church. I belong to the Protestant party. I believe in Protestantism; I do not believe in Catholicism, I never have, and please God, I never will. I believe in Protestantism; but I believe more, and deeper, and furtherand broader, and higher in manhood and womanhood. I can see a vision of God in the man and in the woman, in the Catholic as well as in the Protestant, in the Jew, in the atheist, as well as in the Episcopalian."[16]He was alert to any move that threatened the democratic basis of the Episcopal Church and diminished the power of the clergy and the laity, holding in the instance of the Presiding Bishop's status that the proposal for something similar to an archbishopric would introduce a monarchical form of government into a church whose government closely resembles that of the United States.
At those conventions when the Prayer Book was under revision, Mr. Nelson's spiritual discernment, large-heartedness, and wise judgment were an important supplement to the work of the liturgical authorities. One of the really notable speeches of any General Convention was his plea for the church to place the emphasis in the Baptismal Service where the Apostles did, namely, on discipleship rather than on Creed. "The Creed ought to be on the Altar, not at the door of the Church," he said. "I want the Creed in the service, and I believe it will receive more emphasis than before if it is inserted where I have proposed to place it.[17]The important thing required of Christians is to follow Christ. It is harder to follow Christ than to accept a creed, and God forbid that I should make membership in the Church easier than Christ made it." His earnestness and deep religious feeling made a profound impression, but there were those who saw in the proposal an opening wedge for the subordination of the creeds, and timidity and caution overcame the surge of approbation which followed immediately on his speech.
Commencing in 1925 and continuing until his death, Mr. Nelson served on the Joint Commission on Holy Matrimony, which dealt with the highly controversial issue of divorce. In upholding the high standards embraced in the canons of theChurch, he supported that section of the Commission which sought to take into account the far-reaching human factors involved in marriage and divorce. He was absolutely convinced that the Church was not approaching the problem in the right way. To him it was not an ecclesiastical problem but a definitely human affair. He said he preferred to submit a delicate, ethical problem to a human bishop rather than to the arbitrary operation of a rule. He maintained, "Divorce is now on a legalistic basis. That was not the way of our Lord, and the Commission desires to lift it out of the legal atmosphere into the sphere of the fellowship of the Gospel." Towards this end the Commission had (in 1931) drawn up a proposed canon which was the result of six years' study on the part of an extremely able group of clergymen and laymen. Among the latter were some of the great lawyers of America, such as George W. Wickersham, Roland Morris, and Professor Joseph Beale of the Harvard Law School. This Commission proposed that "any person to whom a divorce from a former marriage has been granted for any cause by a civil court may apply to his Bishop to marry another person." In other words the Commission was endeavoring to have the matter decided not by some hard and fast rule which was bound to do many injustices to individuals, but by a more general principle to be interpreted by the Bishop or Marital Court. The proposal was defeated, but in the battle which ensued and has not ceased "Frank Nelson," says Bishop William Scarlett of Missouri, "was a leading figure. He was trying to see this whole matter through what he believed to be the mind of Christ, and to act and legislate accordingly."
At the Church Congress in Richmond, Virginia, in 1926 in a paper onWhat Is Loyal Churchmanship?he boldly stated:
Even when it comes to the canon in regard to remarriage of divorced persons, when I find in my conscience, standing before God in the presence of Christ, as I try to do, that a man and a woman have a right to be remarried, I will remarry them and take the consequences. I do not mean that I would go about seeking ways of disobeying the Church. I am putting extremecases. Of course I do not mean that.... My first loyalty, my highest loyalty is to the Spirit and to the mind of the Lord Jesus Christ as God gives me grace to see it.... The human soul is more sacred than constitution or canons. Canons and forms of worship are used to illuminate and guide men's minds and souls to Christ, not to dominate them or compel them to conform to this or that.[18]
Even when it comes to the canon in regard to remarriage of divorced persons, when I find in my conscience, standing before God in the presence of Christ, as I try to do, that a man and a woman have a right to be remarried, I will remarry them and take the consequences. I do not mean that I would go about seeking ways of disobeying the Church. I am putting extremecases. Of course I do not mean that.... My first loyalty, my highest loyalty is to the Spirit and to the mind of the Lord Jesus Christ as God gives me grace to see it.... The human soul is more sacred than constitution or canons. Canons and forms of worship are used to illuminate and guide men's minds and souls to Christ, not to dominate them or compel them to conform to this or that.[18]
In a few exceptional instances he remarried divorced persons. He held the present canon of the church to be utterly ridiculous in permitting reinstatement to communicant status following remarriage after divorce: "If one commits so grave a sin as to demand excommunication, how can one be reinstated while continuing to live in that sin? It is absurd on the face of it."[19]
There were those who sneered at his position, saying it was individualistic and amounted to the setting up of oneself against the law of the church, yet he of all people was most conscious of the sin of pride and excessive individualism. At his last Convention in 1937, he reemphasized the point that the object of rewriting the marriage canon was not to liberalize divorce and remarriage: "We have been trying to interpret the mind of our Lord. We have presumed to separate men from the love of God by excommunication. This Commission is trying to set free to a higher plane this tremendous question which is facing us, to lift this tremendous relationship from regulation to the life of the spirit. We want this church to face reality." Nevertheless, the Commission marched from one defeat to another, but it still marches! There was passed in 1931 one constructive piece of legislation bearing on instruction in Christian marriage which was enacted largely through the extremely forceful defense of Frank Nelson.
The same human touch which guided all his thought and effort was apparent in his work on another Commission, namely, the Budget and Program. He usually was chosen to present thereport in the House of Deputies, and it was always a masterly presentation. Like Gladstone, he had the faculty of making people like figures, because he set them forth in terms of human values or in what the newspaper writer calls "human-interest" stories. This same humanness was delightfully manifest on occasions when friends endeavoured to make him the presiding officer or President of the House of Deputies. He would never consent, and humorously said that if he became an official, he would have to attend all the extra meetings and couldn't play golf!
In 1937 the General Convention met in Cincinnati. Though far from well and worn out after the usual strenuous year in his parish, Mr. Nelson gave up a large part of his vacation to assist in the arduous preparations always entailed by such affairs. At the opening service in the University Stadium he was selected by the Presiding Bishop to read one of the Lessons, the deserved recognition of his place in diocese and national church.
In the extensive work of forwarding the policies set up by the General Conventions he was called upon, as one of the representative rectors, to speak in many parts of the country. He was foremost in commending the Nation-Wide-Campaign or budget plan of operation instituted in 1919, as a means of re-awakening the church to a sense of national responsibility. Despite heavy work in parish and city he never spared himself, and willingly put his services at the command of the Presiding Bishop. Only eight months before his death, he spent an entire week in the Diocese of Massachusetts speaking two and three times a day to groups of vestrymen on the forward work of the church.
When General Convention met in Kansas City in 1940, the first meeting after Mr. Nelson's death, the President of the House of Deputies, the late ZeBarney Phillips, said at the opening session: