Guide to the works of J. Gresham Machen (1881–1937). Scholar. Preacher. Founder of Westminster Theological Seminary. Leader in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church.
Guide to pronouncing 'Gresham' correctly
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Speaker 1: Welcome to a special edition of Presbycast on January 1st, 2020. This is the anniversary of the death of J. Gresham Machen, January 1st, 1937. We’d like to commemorate that with a couple of readings and just a short time of looking at some facts and writings concerning this event, the death of J. Gresham Machen.
As we read through, a little background: the account of the Reverend Samuel Allen will refer to Auburn Affirmationists. This was shorthand for liberals in the PCUSA, those who were obviously and consciously—and aggressively—liberal. They issued, 1,274 I believe it was, ministers signed the Auburn Affirmation so-called in 1924. Let’s go through a little background of what the Auburn Affirmation contended.
It said:
You may ask, what were these five essentials that the General Assembly in 1910, 1916, and 1923 of the Northern Church had distilled as essential doctrines? We might say that they had already departed from a strict confessionalism and any sort of reductionism is a bad sign, but the five essentials were good things. Let me tell you the five essentials that the Auburn Affirmation wanted to allow people to deny:
These are not small matters, but the Auburn Affirmationists held some or all of these positions against those things. So, number four: none of the five essential doctrines should be used as a test of ordination. That’s where the problem lay primarily, in those alternate theories.
So those are the main points of the Auburn Affirmation. As we read the account of Reverend Sam Allen, you will hear reference to the Auburn Affirmationists. That’s just shorthand for liberals in the Northern Church.
We’re talking about the death of Machen and the sort of expedition that he was on at the time that he died. Some things have been written saying Machen didn’t take care of himself, Machen should have taken more time off. I’m sure those things are true to some degree, but as a backdrop for these health questions, let me read a little section from Ned Stonehouse’s epic biography of Machen. This is page 449 in the Stonehouse book under the heading “Faithful Unto Death.”
I read: “If Machen had not been given a sturdy physical constitution to accompany his magnificent mind, he would not have been able to undertake the half of what he lived to do. He was not a giant, only five feet eight inches, and in later years he had become perhaps slightly overweight, about 180 pounds as compared with 150 ten or so years before his death. But there was nothing flabby about him, as anyone who tried to keep pace with him when he walked up the street soon realized. During the last summer of his life, he had managed to get away to the Canadian Rockies for a little climbing.”
I’ll note here that he had previously climbed many of the great peaks of the Alps, including the Matterhorn. But in the summer of 1936, he had climbed in the Canadian Rockies. I continue:
“He seemed to his associates to look somewhat drawn when they saw him first in the fall. That is, after he had climbed in the Rockies in the summer of ‘36. Had he perhaps engaged in somewhat too strenuous exercise considering his 55 years? Perhaps not, although his too infrequent opportunities of recreation did not form the ideal background for such vigorous activity. As the year 1936 drew to its close, however, it seemed at times that he was deadly tired. And no doubt, with all of his anxieties with regard to the course and future of the movement with which he was associated as the acknowledged leader gave him many sleepless nights.
But he was not one to pamper himself, and there was no one of sufficient influence to constrain him to curtail his program to any significant degree. And so, during the brief recess from academic teaching at the Christmas vacation, he fulfilled an engagement to speak in a number of churches in North Dakota at the invitation of their pastor, the Reverend Samuel J. Allen. Taking account of his cold and his evident need of rest, members of his immediate family in Baltimore urged him to cancel the engagement. But Machen was unwilling to disappoint Allen and the churches to which he ministered. Leaving the moderate climate of Philadelphia, he arrived in the frigid, 20 below zero temperature of Bismarck, North Dakota.”
And that’s where we pick up the account of the Reverend Samuel J. Allen. This appeared in the second edition of the newspaper, Conservative Presbyterian Publication, The Presbyterian Guardian. I believe this one was of January 23rd, 1937.
What we’ll hear are the reminiscences of the Reverend Samuel J. Allen. I’ll note that on September the 30th of 1936, he and five ministers and eight elders met in Bismarck, North Dakota, to establish the Presbytery of the Dakotas. So he had already left the PCUSA and he was trying to rally more churches and people to the cause of the Orthodox Presbyterian Church—then called the Presbyterian Church of America, as we’ll hear in a moment. He was trying to strengthen the hand of those who were on the side of those leaving the PCUSA. There was apparently a lot of negativity about Machen and this movement, tiny though it was, and you’ll hear reference to that.
So I read from an article entitled “The Last Battle of Dr. Machen” by the Reverend Samuel J. Allen.
Let me make one note. Machen’s nickname was “Das” or “Dassie”—D-A-S or D-A-S-S-I-E—as it’s found in print. This was a nickname that had been given to him, I think by students at Princeton Theological Seminary. It was a play on his last name, Machen, which is very much like the German word for young lady, Mädchen. And of course, the German article “the” is Das. So they called him Das Machen or Das Mädchen. He was a bachelor, and I don’t know if this was meant lovingly. I think he had the gift of self-deprecation because he adopted this and even referred to himself in the third person, as we’ll hear, as “Old Dassie.” So whatever you think about that, it does at least admit that his skin was not too thin.
The Reverend Samuel J. Allen, “The Last Battle of Dr. Machen”:
“Dr. Machen answered my call to help in presenting the cause of the Presbyterian Church of America in Bismarck, North Dakota. The Presbytery of Bismarck of the Presbyterian Church in the USA had painted Dr. Machen as a very unsavory and troublesome person. That, as usual, was their answer to all the charges of unbelief made against them. From the time he assented to the call, nothing could dissuade him from answering it. Neither the smallness of the seceding group, the coldness of North Dakota’s weather, nor pleas of dear friends and relatives who feared for his health. He was determined to go out to North Dakota and help in the conflict for the faith as it was being waged in that locality.
Accordingly, he undertook the arduous trip from Philadelphia and arrived in Bismarck at 11:00 AM Tuesday. I met him emerging from an elevator in the Patterson Hotel. After a warm greeting, Dassie immediately wanted to know the plans. In an offhand way, he told me that he had been sick the night before on the train, but that he was feeling better and ready to do anything that I thought would help the cause. I then told him that, if he were up to it, I would like him to go to Leith, 75 miles away, so that my people could see for themselves ’this terrible man Machen.’
On that trip to Leith, he kept saying, ‘You are not seeing Dassie at his best. I’m not like this very often.’ One could see that he was not feeling well. During this trip, his whole conversation showed his devotion to the Reformed Faith. His whole heart and soul were particularly centered on Westminster Seminary and The Presbyterian Guardian. His ambition for the latter was to see it a real organ of the new denomination, propagating truly Reformed doctrine, maintaining its glorious tradition.
When we arrived at Carson, where I live, my four little girls clambered about him as if they had known him always. Our dog was vying with the children for a place on his lap. At dinner, Dassie could hardly touch a bite, yet he never complained. He commended Mrs. Allen on her biscuits and said if he were himself, he would pack away at least five.
Later he went to Leith. There was only a small crowd, but it didn’t dampen his ardor for one minute. During this speech, he was hampered by a cough that made it appear as though he were troubled with asthma. The room was hot and stuffy and made it even more difficult for him. Nevertheless, he went straight through without one single complaint or excuse.
Almost immediately after his talk, he was stricken with pleurisy. He could not walk up the steps by himself. The pain was intense. He was in agony. From Leith to Bismarck, 75 miles, he groaned with pain and had a terrible thirst. Sometimes he thought he was going to die. More than once he cried out about his thirst. I offered to stop, but he said, ‘We can’t do it. Wait until we get to Bismarck.’ At one time he cried, ‘I can’t make it. I can’t make it.’ Then he would say, ‘I can’t die now. I have so much work to do.’
This was the saddest and most grievous trip I ever made. My heart grieved as I heard his groaning and wondered if we would reach Bismarck. At last, after what seemed an age, we arrived in Bismarck about 7:15 PM. He had to be helped from my car to his room. At first, he wouldn’t consent to the calling of a doctor, but the pain was so intense that he finally yielded on this point.
After calling the doctor at 7:30 PM, I had to go to the hall where the meeting was to take place and arrange things. At 8:05 PM, I called him by phone and asked him how he felt. To my surprise and delight, he told me that the doctor had bandaged him up and eased the pain, and that he was fit as a fiddle and ready to meet any Auburn Affirmationist that might wish to meet him.
About ten minutes later, he walked into the auditorium, apparently as spry as ever with a big broad smile on his face. After he was introduced, he gave a fine address which made a strong impression on the people present and destroyed, in their minds at least, all the slander and calumny about his ‘bitter character.’ After the address, he answered questions for 15 minutes, but the signers of the Auburn Affirmation at Bismarck did not attend.
After the meeting, he almost collapsed. I brought him to his hotel. He was in agony, but over and over he would say, ‘Sam, it went across. They didn’t know I was sick.’ And it was true. Only a few whom I had told knew that anything was wrong. He made a wonderful impression on the 150 present.
The next morning he was dressed and ready to get his train for the East, but the pain was so intense that the doctor absolutely refused to permit him to do so. He diagnosed his case as pleurisy at first. Dassie told me that through that sleepless night of pain, he experienced much joy in the fact that God had permitted him to perform his duty.
After arriving at the hospital, he sent telegrams to his brother and sister-in-law and to the Reverend Edwin H. Rian saying that there was no cause for alarm. In the afternoon, I left for Carson as I had a Bible class at Leith in the evening. I felt little alarm as I knew he was in good hands. I asked the Reverend William Lemke of Bismarck, an evangelical minister, to call and minister to his wants, and told Dassie that I had done this. Mr. Lemke, throughout his illness, rendered every service that he could.
The Auburn Affirmationist in Bismarck called and told him that if he could do anything, he would be glad to do so. This visit disturbed Dr. Machen considerably. He said when I went back the next day, ‘Sam, you understand. It is not that I have an unforgiving spirit. I would gladly forgive him if he asked forgiveness. And I do pray that he will see the Christ. But he has another Christ. He cannot help me. He should not come to me in this condition. He should wait until I can discuss things with him.’”