Calvin Coolidge, his dad, and the majesty of Constitutional Democracy

While Calvin Coolidge was out of his depth as president, particularly as it relates to understanding the twentieth century's new economic realities, I've always admired him as a person.

The story of his swearing-in has been a favorite since I first read it when I was a boy. It captures the simple majesty of US constitutional democracy and George Washington's great legacy to our country, the peaceful transfer of executive power.

One highlight of a tour of New England several years ago was seeing the room in which Coolidge's father administered the presidential oath of office to his son. I literally got goosebumps.

The tale was recounted again yesterday in a post from the White House Historical Association:

John Coolidge received several telegrams during the early hours of August 3, 1923, all of which bore the same message: President Warren G. Harding was dead.

This meant that John’s son, Vice President Calvin Coolidge, would soon be sworn in as the President of the United States.

The news shocked the Coolidges, who were enjoying a family trip to their home in Plymouth Notch, Vermont. President Harding had also been touring the country during his “Voyage of Understanding.” Coolidge received reports that the president showed signs of recovery from a recent illness; his death was completely unexpected.

Calvin Coolidge sent a telegram expressing his condolences to First Lady Florence Harding shortly after receiving the news. Meanwhile, the family accommodated the crowd gathering outside their home, setting aside one room for reporters as John Coolidge greeted curious neighbors. Despite the commotion, the new president’s youngest son, Calvin, Jr., remained asleep. The family decided to wait until the morning to tell him the news.

The elder Coolidge, a notary public, administered the oath of office. Calvin Coolidge placed his hand on the Bible in a dimly lit room in front of a small audience, becoming the thirtieth president of the United States. His first act as president? Returning to bed.

As President Coolidge slept, a new telephone line was installed, creating a direct line of communication between the farm and the White House.

The next day, President Coolidge returned to the capital in his new role as commander in chief.

[Blogger Mark Daniels is pastor of Living Water Lutheran Church in Centerville, Ohio.]

On this date...

...in 1799, George Washington, the father of our country, passed away after a short illness. To mark the anniversary, the people of George Washington's Mount Vernon published this today.

The last time I visited Mount Vernon I became choked up when standing in the bed room in which Washington died. Having read many accounts of the death scene, I knew that his passing was as noble and unassuming as the man himself had become over the course of his life.

Historian Garry Wills once asserted that Washington was the greatest political leader in the history of the world. I agree. By his example, he demonstrated that executive leadership need not be authoritarian and that it can be passed along to a successor democratically and peacefully. Every American owes Washington an enormous debt of gratitude.

There are two Washington biographies I especially recommend:

Washington: A Life by Ron Chernow
Patriarch: George Washington and the New American Nation by Richard Norton Smith

[Blogger Mark Daniels is pastor of Living Water Lutheran Church in Centerville, Ohio.]

If we can't elect a Garfield, maybe we each can be a Garfield

On Saturday, returning from a daylong meeting with church members, someone mentioned the name of an Ohio town. "Isn't that where Garfield was from?" I asked, realizing in an instant that people would think I was referring to James A. Garfield, America's twentieth president, and not to the orange cat in comic strips.

Garfield doesn't come up often in conversation and the only biography I've read of him wasn't very good.

But most people who know a little about him remember that he was assassinated. (That was the subject of an excellent recent installment of the PBS series, The American Experience.)

Others will know that Garfield was an ordained minister, the only such person to ever be president.

None of that came up during the Saturday drive. But having briefly mentioned Garfield one day, I was surprised the next day to find an article in Christianity Today's The Local Church about Garfield.

According to Brannon Marshall, the writer of the piece, Garfield also exemplified humility, being one of the few people elected president who didn't actually want the job. (I've talked before how much I would love for us to elect people to public office who aren't desperately grasping for power.)

In this, Marshall asserts, Garfield has a lot to teach modern Christians (and, I'd say, others):

Garfield’s modesty would make him seem wildly out of place in today's political arena, but it fits his role as a lay-minister well. Of the church leaders I’ve known, those who have contributed the most to those in their care have achieved their influence as a result of character that’s unseen and humility that’s steady. It’s never been done through declarative muscle; instead, like Garfield, they faithfully followed the humble path and have inspired others to do the same. They’re the pastors who hang around after everyone’s gone, get out the mop, and clean up red Kool-Aid stains in the church kitchen without thought of recompense or recognition. They’re the tired-but-tireless Sunday school teachers who are in their fifth decade of helping children understand what Jesus meant when he said, “Take up your cross and follow me.” They’re everywhere—but rarely rewarded. And that’s probably how they want things to be...

Garfield’s relative anonymity in history shouldn’t surprise us—an assassin’s bullet tragically ended his life less than seven months into his term. His legacy, however, is important because his story relates an enduring lesson: true, dignified influence is often achieved not through force or compulsion, but through quiet humility.

In the midst of this year's wretchedly depressing presidential campaign, as we watch more than a few candidates pander, grovel, assault, and misconstrue the records or beliefs of others, it would be refreshing to be surprised by the nomination of a Garfield, a candidate not seeking the office, but seeking to do the first thing all leaders must do, serve. It's something to pray for.

But barring that miracle, maybe we who follow Christ could pray that, like Garfield, we could learn what it means to humbly follow the crucified and risen Jesus. We probably won't ever be elected president. But filled with the power of our Lord, God may use us to change the lives of the people we encounter each day for the better. And doing that would be a great ambition for each of us to hold.