From the Worldwide Faith News archives www.wfn.org
Work-and-Worship 'Boot Camp' Turned Out Battle-Ready Ministers
From
PCUSA NEWS <pcusa.news@ecunet.org>
Date
15 Aug 1999 16:24:46
28-May-1999
99210
Work-and-Worship `Boot Camp'
Turned Out 3,000 Battle-Ready Ministers
Alumni, now of retirement age, reminisce
about church's contributions to urban renewal
by John Filiatreau
CHICAGO, Ill. - Although many of them are retired now, the disciples of
Marshal L. Scott, one of the leading 20th-century prophets of the
Presbyterian Church, are still preaching the social gospel he espoused -
and still echoing his lamentations.
Scott charged 50 years ago that the United Presbyterian Church in the
United States of America often had been "indifferent to injustices toward,
and exploitation of, workers."
A few weeks ago, the Rev. Chuck Yopst, one of about three dozen Scott
followers attending a reunion of the Presbyterian Industrial Relations
Institute (PIIR) at Chicago's Fourth Presbyterian Church, quipped: "I grew
up in a blue-collar family. I'm not sure how I came to be a Presbyterian."
"Protestant churches created the impression ... that they supported the
employers and opposed all efforts on behalf of the workers," Scott wrote in
the early 1950s, "even when the workers were making sacrificial struggles
for what they felt to be righteousness and goodness."
"Working people aren't in the Presbyterian Church," the Rev. Bill
Shirley flatly told his fellow alumni of the PIIR, a work-and-worship
program for ministers and seminarians that was active from 1945 to 1975. A
previous speaker had observed that today's Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is
"not exactly the church of poor people."
Scott pointed out at mid-century that many wage-earners believed that
the Presbyterian Church was "owned and operated by the bosses."
Kim Bobo, a reunion visitor representing the National Interfaith
Committee for Worker Justice, jokingly referred to today's PC(USA) as "the
Republican Party at prayer." She went on to point out that many American
churches, including the PC(USA) are "union busters" that increasingly
employ temporary and part-time workers who don't have to be provided health
insurance and other benefits.
Scott charged in 1985: "We've never yet, as a church, taken on the
issue of war as we should have done, and should be doing now." On another
matter, he said: "We got into the race issue pretty good, once we got in.
But we were slow getting into it."
"(The atmosphere in the church) is very subdued now, because we tend to
be so very fearful," the Rev. Mary Jane Patterson said during the April
27-28 reunion. "I don't know what in the world we're afraid of - the
Devil's always been in society."
Scott, who died in 1991, devoted his career to rooting out "the Devil
in society." He probably had as much impact on the evolving nature of the
Presbyterian ministry as any other figure of the century. Through his PIIR
program and its Ministers in Industry (MII) work-study component, Scott
exposed about 3,000 young ministers and seminarians of many Christian
denominations to industrial workplaces, the day-to-day struggles of
working-class families, and the clashing world views of labor union leaders
and titans of industry.
"I doubt if another church program more clearly separates the men from
the boys," Scott once bragged, referring to the MII program, which put
young ministers - male and female - to work in factories and on assembly
lines. "Let the pantywaists have the soft spots."
(In 1961, one MII seminarian, Norman Helm, no pantywaist, lost part of
his right thumb when he inadvertently put it in a metal-stamping machine.)
Scott also was chairman of a special committee chartered by the 1958
General Assembly "to study the nature of the ministry" - which pointed out
that the ministry "is not the bestowal of a privilege or status, but a call
to responsibility and work." It went on to make some controversial
assertions: that baptism is "a form of ordination" for all church members,
and that all the people of the church, clergy and laity alike, "are the
ministry," and share equally in a general priesthood. If the committee had
its way, it said, "there would be no permanent clergy class."
In the panel's report, published in 1966, Scott wrote about an
important change that had taken place since World War II: "The United
States has always been a land of rapid social and economic change, but
these changes have greatly accelerated. ... The people of this nation are
increasingly gathered in large urban areas. ... Entirely new neighborhoods
are constantly being established at the growing edges of cities, while ...
(in) the older and central parts of the cities, deterioration and decay
have constantly pressed outward."
The change between 1958, when the ministry study began, and 1966, when
the report was issued, was so profound that Scott was moved to observe in
his introduction, "The time has passed when the subject assigned to this
committee is a vital issue."
He explained: "The plunge of the church into direct action in behalf of
racial justice and freedom of opportunity ... has turned the Church from
introspection and self-analysis into a renewed experience of ministry. More
recently, the escalation of the war in Vietnam ... presents an urgency for
Christian guidance to the nation that makes ecclesiastical matters of
relative unimportance."
Scott was deeply involved in the UPCUSA's "plunge" into direct action
for freedom and justice. He was moderator of the 1963 General Assembly in
Des Moines, which came to be known as the "Race Assembly." ("All of a
sudden in one year's time we shifted," Scott told an interviewer two
decades later, "and by August the year after I was moderator, there was
that great march on Washington, (the Rev. Martin Luther) King made his
famous speech, and so on.")
The great work of Scott's life was the creation of an entire generation
of activist-ministers with an acute sense of Christian ethics and radical
attitudes about such matters as injustice, racial discrimination and worker
exploitation. This was a group of young ministers who in the early 1960s
moved en masse into the civil-rights movement, taking the Presbyterian
Church with them. Even today, when most are in their 70s and 80s, these men
and women speak and act with great passion and operate at a level of energy
that would exhaust many much younger ministers.
The PIIR alums combined Scott's principal passions, defining their
ministries by their actions on behalf of social justice.
Scott was a pioneer in big-city ministry, but his own background was
distinctly rural. He was born in 1909 in Spring Hill in southeastern
Indiana, to a family of Scotch-Irish descent, long-time Presbyterians. In
1958 he wrote about his grandfather, Thomas McCall, an Ohio farmer:
When he arose in the morning, he went out to milk the cows and to feed
the livestock. In an hour or so, he came in to the hearty breakfast that
Grandmother had prepared. After breakfast they, and the sons and daughters,
the hired hands, and any visitors, went into the living room where
Grandfather read to them from the Bible. Then they sand a spalm (pronounced
`sam'). Then they got down on their knees at their chairs, and Grandfather
led them in prayer. After this they went out to the barns and fields for
the day's work. All day long they were conscious of the presence of God.
...
Scott said he had chosen to study for the ministry at McCormick
Theological Seminary in Chicago rather than Princeton "because I wanted to
get into a city; I felt I was too much of a rural, small-town person." It
was in the inner cities, he wrote, "that our Presbyterian ministry has been
weakest - where we are often close to total failure."
Scott wasn't the first prominent Presbyterian to take up the industrial
mission. The Rev. Charles Stelzle, who served as the director of the
Workingmens' Department of the Presbyterian Church, U.S.A. for 10 years,
starting in 1903, blazed the trail Scott later followed. Stelzle is
identified with the institution he created: the Labor Temple, a former
Presbyterian church on the lower East Side of New York City, a long-time
landmark of America's urban, ethnic working class - and the first home of
the PIIR.
In the early years of this century, Stelzle wrote a weekly syndicated
column on work and religion that appeared in more than 300 labor
newspapers. In 1906 his ministry won the endorsement of the American
Federation of Labor. The next year's General Assembly commended Stelzle's
work as "one of the providential movements of the day." By 1912 the Labor
Temple was drawing crowds of 2,500 to Sunday services and had become
world-famous. Stelzle won awards in London and Paris, but was running into
increasingly bitter criticism at home.
Finally, a disgruntled former moderator charged Stelzle with being a
socialist and had him tried before the General Assembly's Permanent
Judicial Commission. Stelzle, who had always denied being a socialist,
eventually was exonerated. But by then conservatives were pointing out that
"in all his Social Gospel efforts he had not brought one new member into
the Presbyterian Church." He was forced out of the Temple in 1913.
Historian James Armstrong said the church "let (Stelzle) operate for a
period, but when, when the progressive era was beginning to come to a
close, clamped down on him."
Scott said Stelzle, whom he never met, was just "too hot for Home
Missions. ... They had to get rid of him."
In 1944, when Jacob Long, the director of the church's Department of
City and Industrial Work, was looking for someone to create and manage what
would become the PIIR, he asked Scott to consider taking the job. Scott
replied that he'd be happy to teach at the institute, but he "didn't know
enough" to be its director.
"I know you don't," Long told him, "but nobody else in the Presbyterian
Church does, either - and I've got to start somewhere."
So Scott took the job, and, having to start somewhere, established the
program at the Labor Temple, the Bethlehem of the workplace ministry.
However, he concluded early on that "New York did not provide the right
kind of laboratory" for the PIIR. He tried Pittsburgh and San Anselmo,
Calif., before finally moving, in 1952, to the campus of McCormick Seminary
in Chicago, a city he had come to love.
From the start, the PIIR was a "one-man operation," and Scott was the
man. He once wrote that PIIR's "limited staff" had not had time to step
back and evaluate the program. "Even if there were time," he added, "it
would be difficult to measure the basic contribution of this program, for,
more than anything else, this program is involved in arousing an awareness,
a sensitivity, an attitude of understanding of people in our industrial and
urban society."
According to the Rev. Edgar A. Towne, a PIIR alumnus and historian, one
of Scott's aims was to "create out of the fellowship of PIIR alumni a
movement ... orienting the church toward the urban-industrial wage earner
... an active cadre of PIIR alumni who are a working leaven to this end."
The Rev. Gayraud S. Wilmore said PIIR's alumni did become "an effective
network ... particularly in the Midwest, to support the bold foray of the
denomination into the center of the struggle as the civil-rights movement
became more oriented to the confrontation with white power in the urban
centers of the North."
The Rev. Richard Poethig and the Rev. Gustav Nelson organized the
reunion, inviting their ex-PIIR peers to McCormick to "renew friendships
and to tell ... how PIIR has affected their life and work." Poethig said
the gathering was also an effort to ensure that Scott's ministry and his
vision for the church won't be forgotten.
Scott was quick to stand up for racial justice. As moderator of the Des
Moines General Assembly, he made an opening speech that, in the words of
"Presbyterian Life" magazine, "was one of the principal sparks which set
the Assembly ablaze with enthusiasm for taking vigorous action on the
racial front." About a year later he became the chairman of the United
Presbyterian Church's Commission on Religion and Race. The panel's only
chairman, he served from 1963 to 1967; years later a writer said Scott had
been chosen because he "was viewed as the only (Presbyterian) of sufficient
stature for the job."
Although he was perennially overworked, Scott resisted all efforts to
involve other people in PIIR's administration. He could barely bring
himself to accept the services of a secretary. One of the reasons he was
able to accomplish so much, he often said, was that he didn't have a board
of directors looking over his shoulder. (Later, when he was president of
McCormick, from 1970 to 1975, he managed to get along with its directors.)
Asked about his theology, Scott once said: "To me, the fundamental
issue of life, around which all others revolve, is the struggle between
self-love and the letting go of self in love of God." That struggle was
amply evident in all of his work.
"What you've got to recognize," a participant in the reunion said,
sounding a theme that was very familiar in the Sixties, "is that there's a
war between rich people and poor people, and if you're going to be
Christian, you've got to decide whose side you're on."
Others said that the church ought to be, but often is not, "a voice for
that which is just and right in this world"; asserted that "you can't have
peace without justice"; and lamented "the loss of economic justice as a
front-burner issue."
Those who attended the reunion quickly reached a consensus that today's
church could use their kind of leadership. So they talked about ways of
keeping the PIIR spirit alive in the 21st century, perhaps by creating an
endowed chair at McCormick or sponsoring seminars there on issues in urban
ministry. They presented a plaque to McCormick in honor of the program and
its founder and sent a letter to Dr. Cynthia Campbell, the seminary's
president, suggesting that the school "explore ways to improve the dialogue
with working and low-income wage earners" as part of its commitment to
urban ministry.
There was one thing on which all the reunion participants agreed: that
PIIR's founder and guiding spirit was a remarkable fellow.
The Rev. Dick Siciliano said, "Marshal was probably the finest man I
ever knew." The Rev. Carl Dudley called the time he spent with Scott "the
most concentrated educational encounter I ever experienced." The Rev. Don
Matthews, to whom Scott was teacher, pastor, mentor and "channel of grace,"
said that, when he lived in Kalamazoo, Michigan, "I used to drive all the
way to Chicago to spend an hour with Marshall and get my head screwed on
right."
That's the service Scott and his proteges performed for the whole
Church - getting its head screwed on right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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