All language subtitles for A.Man.Called.Peter.1955

This is Glasgow, scot/and

the year /'s 7.975.

This is the stay of a man
and his close friendship with god.

His name... Peter marsha/I.

As a ha y, his home was in coalbria'ge
nine miles away,

but his heart belonged to the sea.

Oh!

How's that?

Aha! What do we have here?

- It's that findlay lad again.
- My name is Peter Marshall!

Marshall... findlay...
Nuisance suits you the best!

This time I'm puttin'
an end to your pranks.

- This young rooster belong to you?
- Aye. Aye, he does.

- What's he been up to?
- Three times in as many weeks they tell me

he's been caught trying
to sneak aboard the ship.

Wants to go to sea, he says.

He's gettin' off
with a warnin' this time.

But catch him on the docks again,
and you'll be held responsible.

Dragged along like a common thief
for all the street to see.

I always knew you'd disgrace us.

Then why didn't you give me your consent
when I wanted to join the royal Navy?

Ah! There's his gratitude
for all the advantages we gave him...

Piano lessons for the young gentleman,
day school for the young gentleman.

- I'm through with both.
- Are ya now?

Then you'll go to work
and start paying your way.

You'll find yourself a job, and you'll...

There now, you've made me late for mine.

The first time in 13 years!

Peter, you must go back to school.

After me making such a fool of myself,

tellin' everyone good-bye,

braggin' about the big things
I was going to do?

You'll still do the big things, Peter,

if you'll but swallow your pride
and get your education.

You can make me so proud of you.

You can be so proud of yourself.

Do you think I could live
on Mr. Findlay any longer

after what he said about payin' my way?

I'll get a job all right,
but I'll start to night school.

Oh. Oh, thank you, son.

But I'm not givin' up.
Somehow, someday, I'll go to sea.

Mmm. Of course you will,

if it's god's plan for ya.

Maybe this is one of the times
that granny used to talk about

when god slams a door in your face

that he may guide you to the one
through which he wants you to pass.

Life fol/owed a common pattern
for the young men of coatbrio'ge.

As their fathers and grandfathers before
them, they went to work in the mills.

For seven years, Peter had paid his way.

When fortunate enough to work
full-time, nine hours a day,

he earned the equivalent
of nine dollars a week,

barely enough to reimburse his stepfather,
ll/lr. Findlay, for room and board

and to pay for the n/ght classes
he still stubbornly attended

Who is it?

Speak up. What do you want?

Oh!

So it was you who called to me.

Why?

Now I know what's been holding me back.

I'd forgotten that it was you
who calls the s/gnals.

But have I got you fight this time?

Do you really mean what I think you do?

J“ ye'll take the h/gh road
and I'll take the low road j“

j“ and ill be in Scotland afore ye j“

j“ where me and my true love
were ever won't to gae j“

j“ on the bonny, bonny banks j“

j“ of loch lomond j“j“

- Son, do you want to waken Mr. Findlay?
- Oh, mother.

- You passed in French?
- I did not. I flopped as flat as a kipper.

Oh, no.

Then what are you so happy about?

Uh, not that it isn't good
to feel contented with your lot.

Contented? Oh, that's a pale word
for what I'm feeling.

Tonight in the fog, the heavens opened.

They actually did, and now I know
what I'm going to do.

Just when I thought my life was
worth nothing, the lord asked for it,

told me he had a use for it
and what was his plan for me.

And what's that, Peter?

He wants me to be a minister.

- A minister, Peter?
- Aye.

- Aren't you pleased?
- Oh.

My cup runneth over.

- But it'll take a bit of doing.
- Oh, he knows that,

and already he's getting to work on it.

- He's sending me to america.
- Oh.

Three years later,

by working double shifl's at the mill,
by scrimping and sa ving,

Peter left his belo ved scot/and

with faith and trust in his heart

and $50 in his old brown wallet,
he arrived in america.

Now all he had to do was wait
for further instructions from the lord,

or as Peter put it,
”orders from the chief”

almost. Whoa! That's it.

But the chief took his time
in communicating with Peter,

as he frequently does with all of us.

So, while he waited,
Peter worked at a variety of jobs,

finally for an excavating company

d/gging his way across
the state of New Jersey

through the blistering heat
of midsummer

and wondering how all this was
bringing him closer to the ministry

when all seemed futile,
god opened a door...

The door of Columbia theological seminary
in decatur, Georgia,

where four years later
he was graduated summa cum laude.

It's most unusual, Peter,
for a young minister

to begin his career
with a choice of calls.

One of them is highly flattering...
A large church in Atlanta.

Hmm. I am flattered and highly honored.

And what's the other call?

The little town of Covington, Georgia.

You may take a little time, Peter.

Perhaps there's someone with whom
you'd like to talk it over.

Aye, there is, sir. There is indeed.

Hmm.

Peter put the question
squarely before the lord...

Where did he wish him to begin his work?

- J“j“ - The answer came...

The lo vely little town of co vington.

After a joyous ministry in co vington,

Peter received a second call
to the large church in Atlanta,

a church with
an indifferent congregation

and encumbered by debt.

Soon he drew such crowds it was necessary
to build a balcony to accommodate them.

For those still forced to stand outside,

loudspeakers were installed
so that they could hear him preach.

J“j“

Young people came in droves
from the nearby colleges...

Emory oglethorpe,
Georgia tech and Agnes Scott.

I was Catherine wood,
the girl in the tan dress,

a senior at Agnes Scott college.

Oh, miss. Oh, miss, I'm sorry.

It's all right. Thank you.

For two years,
I'd been listening to Peter preach.

For two years, I'd been living
just for Sunday mornings.

Was Peter touched by such de votion?

He didn't know I existed

there are men and women
in the world today

who say that god orders their lives,

guides them in making decisions,

provides for their needs,
answers their prayers

in ways which are often
strange and unexpected.

That is the testimony
of my own experience,

and there are many here who could
make the same statement.

But if you yourself have not had
that experience in your life,

don't be too quick
to jump to the conclusion

that we who say these things
are daft, mad.

In that mood,

many of us approach spiritual things.

We come, like Thomas, not doubting,

but dogmatically refusing
to believe unless we see

as if we could pour god
into a test tube,

as if intangibles
had to become tangible

in order to pro ve
that they were intangible.

There are certain things
that must be approached in faith...

Things that are matters of perception,

not of proof.

Beauty is one of them.

How can you prove
that anything is beautiful?

Could you demonstrate to me
by logic or reason or by intellect

that the fifth symphony or
the "moonlight sonata" were sheer beauty?

Can you prove by any method
of intellect

why a sunset is beautiful?

Describe to me scientifically

the haunting, wistful fragrance

of a bunch of violets.

Yet you come here professing the faith

which for more than 19 centuries
has borne witness to spiritual realities

and you ask if one can prove
that god exists!

You ask me to prove it.

How could my tiny mind prove god?

What kind of a god
could my little mind prove?

You might as well ask the bird to prove
the air in which it flies

or the minnow to prove
the sea in which it swims.

Let me ask you to prove that you exist.

I'd be interested in hearing you try.

There are mysteries all around us...

Stirring, wonderful, inexplicable.

Take, for example,
the strange phenomenon of falling in love.

Have you ever asked the question,
"how will I know when I fall in love?"

I have.

I've asked it of blondes and brunettes,

of redheads and of bald heads...
Of people everywhere.

And the strange thing is, I've always
received the same answer, namely,

"don't worry, brother. You'll know."

Love, like beauty,

like the haunting,
wistful fragrance of violets,

is a matter of perception
and experience, not of proof.

The great things
by which we really live

are not proven by logic

but by life.

And as that is true of love and beauty,

so it is true of finding god

and learning how close he stands to us.

Let us pray.

J“j“

It was a fine sermon.
We thoroughly enjoyed it.

Dr. Marshall, as always,
you were simply superb,

- but Mary has something to say.
- Yes.

Yes, it is an interesting
and worthwhile idea,

and we'd be delighted to cooperate.

Good-bye, Dr. Marshall.

Don't mean to eavesdrop, miss Hopkins,
but I couldn't help overhearin'.

- That was Dr. Marshall, wasn't it?
- Yes, Emma.

He'd like to borrow one of our girls
for a few hours Saturday afternoon.

- What's that?
- She'll be one of four students

speaking at a youth rally
at Mason corners.

District has a serious problem...

Bootleggers enjoying a holiday

peddling their poison liquor
to young people.

Hmm. Mere teenagers
their best customers too.

- I wonder if...
- Miss Hopkins.

Don't go any further. Don't go searching
through that list no further.

There's just one girl...
Just absolutely one who'll fill the bill.

Pretty, but not gaudy.
Smart and not show-offy.

Talks good. Nice manners.

It was one of those
rare and wonderful moments

when what seems too good
to be true is true.

Peter Marshall was calling for me.

A student from Emory was bringing
a girl from oglethorpe

and a fullback from Georgia tech
was coming by himself

Peter would disco ver me
among the magnolias

reading sonnets from the Portuguese.

Then it would be Peter and I
driving alone together.

Perhaps when we return from the rally,

the n/ght would be one of those blowy,
mysterious n/ghts lalways love so much.

And Mason corners was 50 miles away

Miss wood!

- How do you do, miss wood?
- Good afternoon, Dr. Marshall.

Ah. And this is miss standish,
our pianist.

How do you do?

Hello.

On the way back, you'll be
more comfortable, miss wood.

Our boy from Georgia tech
will drive you home.

Hey, Willie! Save us a seat, will ya?

Okay!

Now, the good ladies of Mason corners
have arranged this gathering

for a serious purpose...
A Christian purpose.

But whoever said
that christianity can't be fun

or that fun can't be Christian?

Whoever said that the lord
liked a long face?

He likes us to laugh and enjoy ourselves
and enjoy living,

and that's just what
we're going to do here.

So to break the ice,

supposing we start with a song...

What'll it be?

How about "tattooed Rosie
from New Orleans"?

Well, I... I'm afraid I don't know "Rosie,"

but how would it be
if I sang you an old Scottish song?

Down in front!

Well, maybe after
the serious business is through

we'll feel more like singing.

Now, the sign at the entrance
advertises me as a speaker.

Well, I have a surprise for you.
I'm not going to speak.

Good!

You're right. This is
a young people's meeting,

and you're going to hear
the ideas of young people.

So first, that nice young girl,
Jane Whitney,

from oglethorpe university.

Come up, Jane.

Dr. Marshall, I can't. I just can't!

Don't worry, Dr. Marshall.
I'll take care of her.

- Uh, you come up, Bruce.
- Not me, Dr. Marshall.

I plumb forgot my speech.

Well, I've certainly laid an egg.

Dr. Marshall, you're forgetting me.

Oh, no, miss wood. Now, it's no use.
They'll not listen.

If that's because I'm a girl,
thank you, boys.

And now, if you'll let me,
I'd like to talk, as a girl,

to the girls here this afternoon.

I know if you boys will listen,
they'll listen too.

And I'm just as sure
that the only reason

they've been just as rude and silly
as you've been

is because they have the mistaken idea
that you wanted them to be.

I never thought much about being a girl

until two years ago

when I learned from a man what
a wonderful thing it is to be a woman.

Until that Sunday morning,

I'd considered myself lucky to be living
in the 20th century,

the century of progress
and emancipation,

the century when supposedly
we women came into our own.

But I'd forgotten

that the emancipation of woman
really began with christianity,

when a girl... a very young girl...

Received the greatest honor in history.

She was chosen to be the mother
of the savior of the world.

And when her son grew up
and began to teach his way of life,

he ushered woman into a new place
in human relations.

He accorded her a dignity
she'd never known before

and crowned her with such glory
that down through the ages

she was revered, protected and loved.

Men wanted to think of her
as different from themselves...

Better, made of finer, more delicate Clay.

It remained for the 20th century,

the century of progress,

to pull her down from her throne.

She wanted equality.

For 1,900 years, she had not been equal.

She had been superior.

To stand equal with men,
naturally she had to step down.

Now, being equal with men,

she has won all their rights
and privileges...

The right to get drunk,
the right to swear,

the right to smoke,
the right to work like a man,

to think like a man, to act like a man.

We've won all this,

but how can we feel so triumphant

when men no longer feel
as romantic about us

as they did about our grandmothers,

when we've lost something
sweet and mysterious,

something as... as hard to describe as...

As the haunting,
wistful fragrance of violets?

Of course, these aren't
my original thoughts.

They are the thoughts
I heard that Sunday morning.

But from them,
some thoughts of my own were born

and the conclusion reached

that somewhere along the line,
we women got off the track.

Poets have become immortal

by remembering on paper a girl's smile.

But I've never read a poem rhapsodizing
over a girl's giggles at a smuttyjoke.

Or I've never heard a man brag

that his sweetheart or his wife
could drink just as much as he

and become just as intoxicated.

I've never heard a man say

that a girl's mouth was prettier
with a cigarette hanging out of it

or that her hair smelled divinely
of stale tobacco.

I'm afraid that's all I have to say.

I've never made a speech before.

Right on top of that, we've got to have
a song. Let's make it a good one.

J“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

J“ its good enough for me j“

j“ it was good enough for ll/loses j“

j“ it was good enough for ll/loses j“

j“ it was good enough for ll/loses j“

j“ and its good enough for me j“

j“ it was good enough for Daniel j“

j“ it was good enough for Daniel j“

j“ it was good enough for Daniel j“

j“ and its good enough for me j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion
its good enough for me j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

j“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

j“ its good enough for me j“j“

I want you to know that I was never more
impressed in my life, or more flattered,

that a young girl like you,
with all her interests,

should be able to remember
almost word for word

- a sermon she'd heard over two years ago.
- Oh.

Mind you, it was your own ideas
that really turned the tide.

It'd be very interesting to know
what else is in that nice mind of yours.

That's the wonderful discovery
I've made about southern girls.

The cake is almost finer
than the frosting.

Well, then we southern girls should be
very grateful to your fiancée.

My fiancée? Who might she be?

Well, there's been talk on campus that...
That she's an Atlanta girl.

Definitely not, and I'd be very glad
if you'd correct the rumor.

As a matter of fact,
I do recall hearing it contradicted.

Someone said you were really
engaged to a Scottish girl.

No, that's equally untrue.

Why is everybody always tryin'
to force me into matrimony?

I'll marry when I'm good and ready.

I'm good enough now,
but I'm not ready.

If I can wait for the lord to pick out
my wife, why can't anyone else?

- The lord's going to do that?
- Why, certainly.

You mean, he'll pick you out for her too?

Naturally. Don't you expect him
to do as much for you?

Perhaps he has already.

- Oh.
- Well, if he hasn't, he will.

J“ oh, that old time rel/gion j“

Tomorrow I'm going to call the Dean
of Agnes Scott college

and tell her she's a woman
of real discernment.

Strange I never noticed you
in church before.

- Why?
- Well, even a minister has eyes.

I know it's awfully late,
but somehow I hate to say good night.

Finding someone else that thinks like you
do always puts me in mind of two ships

flashing their lights in a lonely sea.

They may be putting into different ports,

but for a moment they knew
one another was there.

- Would you mind if I called you sometime?
- Oh, no.

We could, um, have dinner and see a movie.

Yes.

Certainly, one... one night next week.

I'll, um... I'll call you.

- Good night, Catherine.
- Good night, Dr. Marshall.

Good night, Peter.

Good night, Peter darling.

One long week of stony silence...

Li/londa y, Tuesday,

Wednesday, Thursday,

Friday, Saturday

the longest, unhappiest week of m y life.

Iha ve come to the conclusion that I place
Dr. Ll/larshall on too lofl'y a pedestal

and that the time has come
to make a clean, deep cut.

A b/g black period marks
the end of an unhappy interlude.

I begin tomorrow by going
to another church.

Marriage is not a federation
of two sovereign states.

It's a union... domestic, social,
spiritual and physical.

It's the fusion of two hearts,
the coming together of two tributaries

which, after being joined in marriage,

will flow in the same channel,
in the same direction

carrying the same burdens
of responsibility and obligation.

Marriage is a oneness,

divine and indivisible.

Peter went on with his sermon

about the holy institution of marriage,

or in Peters colorful phrasing,

”the halls of h/ghest human happiness. ”

But all / kept hearing
0 ver and o ver was,

”marriage is a oneness,
divine and indivisible. ”

- J“j“ - Aren't you with us?

Miss wood. Green eyes, brown hair,
tan dress... "Ridiculous little hat."

He doesn't miss much, does he? I'm
Ruby Coleman, Dr. Marshall's secretary.

How do you do? If it won't interfere
with any previous plans,

he'd like to have you wait a few minutes
and then he'll drive you back.

That's very nice of you, miss wood.
He needs the fresh air.

Oh, then he's been sick.

Him? If he felt any better,
I think he'd explode.

He didn't bother
to explain why he hadn't called

he only said that when he saw me
in church, it suddenly occurred to him

that it was a beautiful day,
and something should be done about it,

and didn't I agree?

So we drove out to stone mountain.

The man at the curio store
where Peter bought me a souvenir

said that almost e very Sunday
some foo/hardy idiot broke his leg

or got stranded
climbing the mountain.

Did that deter Peter?

Definitely not.

While he climbed down from the mountain,

I rehearsed a dozen
charming little speeches

that would bring us back to where
we left off after the youth rally

but whenever I began one, he would warn me
with what I suppose was Scottish thrifl'

that my ice cream was melting.

Peter took me to dinner
at his favorite restaurant.

I saw the romantic glow of candlel/ght

and I thought, 'at last. ”

- Good evening, Dr. Marshall.
- Good evening.

Thank you.

Thanks.

Have you got a match, Henry?

The food here's the best in Atlanta,
but there's only one drawback.

The gloom's so dense, your fork gets lost
between your plate and your mouth.

Nor can you enjoy
looking at a pretty girl,

if she happens to be sitting opposite you.

I was wondering what you thought
about my sermon this morning.

It's very important to me
that I should know how you feel,

so please be perfectly frank.

"Marriage is the fusion of two hearts,

the coming together of two tributaries,

which, after being joined
together in marriage,

will flow in the same direction

carrying the same burdens
of responsibility and obligation.

Marriage is a oneness,
divine and indivisible."

- Then you did like it.
- Oh, Peter.

Well, that settles it then.

It'll be my talk before
the young people's groups

in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Washington.

- What did you say?
- Oh, didn't I tell you?

I'm leaving tomorrow
on a two-week speaking tour,

but I'll call you the minute I get back.

When you get back, I won't be here.

Why not?

It'll be all over. I'll be graduated.

Oh, how could I have forgotten that?
And you'll be leaving Atlanta?

To spend the summer
with my parents in West Virginia.

In the fall, I begin teaching.

Well, I'm sure you'll be a fine teacher.

As I've told you more than once,
you've... you've got a very nice mind.

And know that I'll be wishing you
all good luck and happiness.

Thank you.

And I wish you happiness too...
All the happiness in the world.

What's the matter, child?

What's that man do to you?

I's glad I's a baptist!

I's glad I ain't young!

Glad I just got a seat in the bleachers.

- You lost your hearing or your mind?
- Oh, Emma, go away.

And let that man come charging up here
like a roaring lion?

"That man"? What man?

Stop asking foolish questions
and do something radical to that face.

Oh, Emma. Oh!

You'd better go easy with that, honey.
I got a notion that...

What am I saying?

Oh, I'm a stupid, glaikit lump.

I didn't realize
what a shock this must be.

But god just spun me around
like a top and said,

"Peter, you idiot, don't you see
this is my grandest plan for you?"

Glory, hallelujah!

What's the matter, darling?

Oh, Peter, I'm frightened.

Are you sure this is god's will
and not just Catherine wood's?

- I don't know what you mean.
- Of course you don't.

How could you know
that for two years, from the...

From the very first moment I saw you,

I... I've schemed and... and plotted

and dreamed that somehow
this would happen...

That, impossible as it seemed,

you'd love me too.

Oh, Catherine, this gets
more and more wonderful.

I'm not sure that it is.

Maybe you never had a chance.

You hear about the power of thought,
about... about willing things to happen,

that... that the mind
is like a magnet and...

Oh, rubbish!

Don't you know that god plants
his own lovely dream in the human heart

and that when the dream is mature

and the time for it
is ripe for its fulfillment,

well, to our astonishment and delight,

his will becomes ours, and ours his?

Now, who but god could've thought
of anything as perfect as this?

Well, I... I'll have
to consult my calendar

and, uh... and, uh, rearrange my plans.

But with christenings and weddings and
speaking dates I'm already committed to,

I don't see how we can get married
till practically the end of the summer.

Does that disturb you, Catherine?

What could ever disturb me again?

It was well into fall

before Peter caught up
with his busy schedule.

We were married in the old family church
in West Virginia

and blissfully set sail
for a Cape Cod honeymoon.

Oh, Catherine,
could anything be finer?

She's a snug little ship.

How long is it going to take us
to get to Cape Cod?

We'll be there in the morning.

I got a whiff from the galley.
I think it's...

Aye, it's roast Turkey.

- Honey, what's the matter?
- I don't know, but I think I'm seasick.

Seasick? You're not. You couldn't be.

I always get seasick.

But there's no such malady.
It's all in your mind.

I couldn't have married
a girl who'd get seasick.

But you did. And what are you going
to do about it?

Oh, the poor girl. She really believes it.

It was the most beautiful of honeymoons.

Peter fell more than ever
in love with the sea,

and / fell in love with it too...

From the proper distance, of course.

Catherine, look! Another one!

- Now will you come out?
- No!

But it's as smooth as glass!

All right then, be stubborn. But no
self-respecting fish will come near you.

- Catherine, your line!
- Ooh!

Now why don't you say something?

Well done, Catherine!

I must've scared it your way.

Oh, good morning, Mr. Briscoe.
Look what I caught.

- Yeah. This came for Dr. Marshall.
- Oh.

They thought at the inn
it might be somethin'.

- Thank you.
- Oh, that's all right.

Peter! Telegram!

Open it!

It doesn't make any sense.
I can't understand it.

Why not?

Well, it's... it's from Washington...
Washington, DC.

It says, "manse redecorated

and awaiting you and Mrs. Marshall.

Moving Van arriving tomorrow.

Kindest regards, evanston whiting."

Do you know an evanston whiting?

That's colonel whiting,

president of the board of trustees

of the New York Avenue church,
Washington, DC.

- But what does it mean?
- Now, don't get excited.

I wanted nothing to disturb our honeymoon,
so I didn't tell you.

Tell me what, Peter?

That we're not going back to Atlanta.
We're going to Washington.

All summer long, I've been pondering
a call to the old New York Avenue church...

The church of the presidents...
Abraham Lincoln worshipped there.

- Aren't you pleased?
- Oh, well, who wouldn't be?

Let's go.

Oh, wonderful. Here... put it...
Put it right there. That's fine.

Thank you.

You see, Catherine?

That'll give you an idea
of how cozy it will be.

That's our first call.

- Why don't you answer it?
- Well, I can't find the blasted thing.

Catherine, do something!

Well... oh, here.

Follow this cord.

Hello?

Oh, hello, colonel whiting.

Yes, we're getting along
beautifully. Thank you.

Yes. Yes, I've got it.

All right then.
We'll see you at 8:00 this evening.

Fine. Good-bye.

Peter, you're not letting anyone
come to this house?

Of course not. We're going
to their home for dinner.

Peter, we can't! My hair... it's a mess,
and nothing's unpacked.

There's nothing to worry about.

It's just a friendly evening at colonel
whiting's little farm in the country.

- Good evening.
- Good evening.

May I?

- Who may I announce, please?
- Uh, Dr. and Mrs. Marshall.

Oh. This way, please.

Quaint little farmhouse.

Dr. and Mrs. Marshall.

Dr. and Mrs. Marshall,

welcome to Washington.

This is all my fault. I told
Mrs. Marshall a small, informal dinner.

That's exactly what it is, my dear...

Just our own special little group.

- Please come in. Come in.
- This is our granddaughter Barbara.

- How do you do?
- How do you do, Barbara?

Our new pastor and the lady of the manse.

Uh, an interesting coincidence.

Our first pastor back in those days
was also a scotsman.

He was only 22 when he came to america
and took over the pulpit.

That makes me feel
much less a stranger.

The church had not yet been built.

Services were being held
in the old treasury building

burned by the British in 1812.

Pennsylvania Avenue was a cow path

along which Thomas Jefferson
had planted some poplar trees.

Why, nobody knows.

Coal had just come into use,
but it was too expensive for us,

so Dr. Laurie would come early
every sabbath morning

and start a roaring fire
in the old woodstove.

A real, true scotsman!

And my great-grandfather
supplied the wood.

Also boarded Dr. Laurie without charge.

What a perfectly beautiful heritage.

You know, Dr. Marshall,
you don't look like a minister.

- Barbara, really!
- Well, gran, he doesn't.

Well, that's probably because Dr. Marshall
isn't wearing his clerical collar.

Look, I'm afraid my obvious deficiencies
can't be corrected that easily.

I don't own a clerical collar.

But for the pulpit of
the New York Avenue church,

you're surely going to acquire one.

Positively not, miss Fowler.

I couldn't breathe, let alone preach,
in one of those things.

Oh, Laura, wait till you hear
Dr. Marshall preach.

You won't care
if he doesn't wear any... collar.

Would anyone like more coffee?

You did beautifully tonight.
I was very proud of you.

Now, let's drive by the church.

- At this hour?
- Mm-hmm. It's on our way.

Ah, there it is...
The church of the presidents.

Abraham Lincoln's church.

- We're going in, darling.
- But, Peter, it's past midnight.

There's something I have to see.
I can't wait.

I know a southern girl
shouldn't be impressed, but...

Well, what do you think I feel?

From the coatbridge tube works to
Ellis island to here in only 10 years.

Now, will you please take your place
in the pastor's pew?

That's what I had to see...
How you look while I'm preaching.

Always be there, darling.

God had some wonderful plan
when he sent us here.

Don't you feel it, Catherine?

Let's pray that
we never let him down,

that we serve him
in this beloved old church

in this great city of Washington
according to his will.

J“ a m/ghty fortress j“

j“ is our god j“

j“ a bulwark j“

j“ never failing j“

j“ our helper, he j“

j“ amid the flood j“

j“ of mortal ills j“

j“ prevailing j“

j“ for still our ancient j“

j“foej“

j“ doth seek to work j“

j“ his woe j“

j“ his crafl' and power j“

j“ are great j“

j“ and armed j“

j“ with cruel hate j“

j“ on earth is not j“

j“ his equal j“

j“ amen j“j“

It has been said

that a new minister's first sermon,

while he is still strange
to his congregation

and his congregation is strange to him,

frequently has far-reaching repercussions.

You have your ideas
of what your pastor should be

and your pastor has his ideas
of what your church should be.

I have come, practically as a stranger

to this imposing old church,

a church whose history is almost
as old as this country,

a church whose traditions and legends
I respect and find thrilling and exciting.

Now, history and tradition
and legends are fine.

We couldn't live without the past,

but past glory has never
been enough for a nation

or a church or even an individual.

There's always the all-important now
and the more important future.

I look out this morning
on a church not even half-filled.

Now, this in no way injures
my personal pride, my vanity.

I'm not here to recruit fans for a fellow
named Peter Marshall.

Nor am I here to sell anything.

That which we call salvation...

And a most comprehensive term
it is... is a free gift.

You can't buy it. Neither can you earn it.

It's not a reward dangling before
the Christian like a carrot before a mule.

It's not something
that the church has to peddle.

And probably no idea hurts me more

than suggesting that I am a salesman

endeavoring to sell people
on the idea of religion.

I resent it bitterly.

Religion is not for sale. It's given away.

So today,

as I start my ministry
in this hallowed old church,

I think it only fair to explain

that it isn't the church or religion

that I'm trying to present, but Christ.

Not the pale, anemic, namby-pamby Jesus...

The gentle Jesus, meek and mild...

But the Christ of the gospels

striding up and down
the dusty miles of Palestine,

suntanned, bronzed, fearless,

the knuckles big
in his carpenter's hands...

The Christ who upset the moneylenders...

The Christ who had
a good time at weddings,

and who would not allow his host to be
embarrassed by running short of wine...

The Christ who loved people...
All kinds of people,

but particularly red-blooded folk,

for he himself was red-blooded...

The Christ who called a spade a spade

and who let the chips fall
where they might.

Not the Jesus of the perfumed cloisters
of pious sentiment,

but the man who walked the streets
of the city, stopping here and there

to pass the time of day in places where
you and I could not afford to be seen

and getting a huge kick out of it!

Let us be honest.

Let us recognize that the kind of people
that Christ liked best

were not the kind that the average church
appeals to at all.

Think of the people whom he personally
invited to be his friends.

Peter and Andrew, James and John...
Fish merchants.

Zacchaeus and Matthew...
Unpopular tax collectors.

Saul of tarsus... an aristocrat,
a persecutor of the church.

Mary magdalena... once a prostitute.

Joanna, wife of herod's chancellor...

A so-called society woman.

There are... I'm sure... in Washington

countless people who fall
into just this category.

We cannot afford to be
indifferent to them.

We must invite the sophisticates,
the irreligious,

the lost and the lonely.

We must extend to them our fellowship
and introduce them to Christ.

That is our business, nothing else.

For Christ likes people,
all kinds of strange people,

people whom we might have
to think twice about before cultivating.

He wants them.
He enjoys their life and vigor.

He wants to hear laughter, a joke,

if it's a good one.

A man of sorrows and acquainted
with grief, that he was.

But it was in order
that ourjoy might be full.

That is the Christ that I know.

That is the Christ that I would have dwell
in this historic old church,

his big carpenter's hands
stretched out in welcome.

Let us pray.

A most auspicious beginning,
Dr. Marshall. Most auspicious.

Thank you very much.

You surely gave us
something to think about.

Thank you very much.
How are you, Barbara?

Back in the fold.
You just brought in your first sheep.

Barbara, whatever in the world
do you mean by that?

This child's gone to church all her life.

Just like I go to the dentist...
Every six months.

You know, the other night,
I knew you were different.

Now I know you're just the greatest,
and I'm spreading the word.

Thank you, Barbara.

Good morning, miss Fowler.
How are you, Mrs. Peyton?

Dr. Marshall, you've simply
got to do something.

Laura... miss Fowler's frightfully upset.

Aye. So I gathered.
Could you tell me why?

It all started the other night really...
You know, about the collar?

And then this morning
just added fuel to the flames.

- How do you mean?
- Well, it was mostly little things,

like making the lord seem almost common

and calling a spade a spade
and letting the chips fall.

- Is that all?
- Oh, dear.

Maybe I shouldn't have spoken to you.

Please don't be upset or hurt,
but she thinks that you, an immigrant,

have no right to invite just anybody
into New York Avenue.

I can't stay. She might imagine that you
and I have been talking about her.

I'm one who came uninvited, Dr. Marshall,
and I liked your sermon,

particularly the way
the chips fell where they might.

That's very kind of you, sir.

To a stranger from the middle west,

this old church and all that goes with it
is very exciting.

- Are you a visitor in Washington?
- More or less.

Just make yourself at home.

Go downstairs and see the Lincoln parlor
and all the old documents.

Thank you.

I'll admit you shook us up a bit,
but we've decided we can stand it.

As you yourself foresaw,
there'll be repercussions.

But as a businessman, I know that when
you hire new blood, you get new ideas.

Sometimes they're good.

Well, gentlemen, I must admit
I'm very much relieved.

Did you know you drew
a United States senator?

I did?

I've never even seen
a United States senator.

Senator Willis k. Harvey. Odd chap.

Met him at a luncheon the other day.

Well, I hope he comes back again.

And vice versa.

But, boy, it's simply incredible.

Weather like this,
and every inch of the church packed...

The lecture rooms, the chapel...
And still those hundreds standing outside.

How do you feel when you see
something like this?

Scared, sir.

Scared to death.

It's when I do my hardest praying.

Haven't these people
any churches of their own?

So much influenza going around too.
Oh, my!

J“ a m/ghty fortress j“

j“ is our god j“

j“ a bulwark j“

j“ never failing j“

j“ on earth is not j“

j“ his equal j“

j“ amen j“j“

Sure is a stormy one.

Well, after four stormy years at New York
Avenue, I'd say it's very appropriate.

Maybe that's why Mrs. Marshall
selected it as an anniversary present.

Of course, to tell you the truth,
I gently guided her

towards the gallery
where it was to be found.

She gave it to me with the stipulation
that she didn't have to look at it.

Well, that's our gain.

How is Mrs. Marshall?

At 9:00 this morning
she was feeling fine.

At 6:00 this evening
she was feeling even finer.

I'd better get the latest bulletin.

How are you feeling, darling?

Oh, that's fine.

Nice considerate son you're having.

Well, of course, it's going to be a boy.

Yes, sir.

- Hey, senator Harvey.
- Good evening.

I thought it was you.
We haven't seen you for a long time.

I've been around.

Watch it.

Um, can I give you a lift anywhere?

No. That is, nowhere in particular.

What do you mean by that,
"nowhere in particular"?

I was wondering if you'd like
to go some place and have a sandwich.

Why, I'd love to.

What's wrong, senator?

I'm not a senator, Peter.

You mean, all this time
you've been an impostor?

No. I've been just what
I was sent here to be,

a name on the senate roster.

Didn't you know that I was only serving
out the term of the late senator pine?

Oh, I probably did,
but I never thought much about it.

He was killed in an accident
his first year in Washington.

The big boys back home
were caught short.

They wanted another Joe pine.

So, they played it safe.

They looked around for someone

with n-not so much a clean slate
as a... a blank one.

I was appointed.

Nothing was expected of me
but to hold down a seat,

vote the way they wanted me to.

Like "yes" on
the cheavers' land bill tomorrow.

Do you like that bill?

The boys back home do.

Several million acres
of timber will be cut.

The state will have
a fresh crop of millionaires.

And then next spring,

thousands of small farms
will be flooded and washed out.

I see.

You know, you... you have a strange,

maybe even dangerous effect
on a stodgy little guy like me.

- Dangerous?
- Yeah.

You make me think I'd like, just once,

to stand on a hill and...
And feel the wind in my face.

You know, you don't have to look far
to find your hill.

I might also find
that there was no demand

back at our state university

for the services of a reasonably fair
history professor once my time is up.

Thank you.

Thank you, Peter.

In again, out again. Gone again, Finnegan.

Boy, we sure earn our money taking
care of you. How'd the luncheon go?

What'd you tell those bankers?

That "in god we trust" is on a thin dime
as well as on a silver dollar.

Yes, sir.

A call from the superintendent
of the naval academy at Annapolis.

You're invited to speak in the chapel
a week from Sunday.

The naval academy?

Ah, tell the superintendent
I'd be greatly honored.

Another acceptance.
General and Mrs. Eisenhower

will attend the St. Andrew's day dinner.

Well, any more good news today?

Senator Harvey called. I-I'm not sure
that I have his message straight.

He said something about a hill
and the wind or the breeze

or something being very refreshing.

Uh, does that mean anything to you?

A lessening of tension
as Tokyo announces

that special envoy saburo k urusu

is en route to Washington to meet with
Cordell hull and ambassador nomura.

However, the b/g news
today on capitol hill

is the defeat of the controversial
chea vers ' land bill

the deciding vote came
by way of a bombshell.

It was cast by senator Willis k. Harvey

on the other side of capitol hill...

- So, that was what he meant.
- That was it, miss crilley.

- But what a strange way of putting it.
- Aye.

Strange and mysterious,
like the ways of the lord.

I don't feel right about this sermon.

There's something wrong with it,
and I can't put my finger on it.

I'll read a page or so,
then maybe you could tell me.

"Everyone agrees
that we of the 20th century

have made far more advances
in the scientific world

than we have in the world
of morals and ethics."

- Peter, I hate to interrupt...
- Why, is it that bad?

No. I'm sure it's wonderful.

But I think you'd better get me
to the hospital right away.

Catherine!

Peter, I thought you'd be
halfway to Annapolis by this time.

I had to have one more look at him.

And, believe it or not, he's grown
a good inch since 6:53 this morning.

Good-bye, darling.
I'll call you as soon as I get back.

And thank you, Catherine.

Thank you for the bonny wee laddie.

Thank you for my son.

J“j“

J“ eternal father j“

j“ strong to save j“

j“ whose arm doth bind j“

j“ the restless wave j“

j“ who biddst
the m/ghty ocean deep j“

- they're so young.
- J“j“

So young and fine.

Something wrong, Dr. Marshall?

I can't throw off the feeling that the
sermon I've prepared isn't the right one.

It's been haunting me all week.

Well, then, by all means,
say what you like.

I think I shall.

Thank you.

Jj

James, fourth chapter,

14th verse.

For what is your life?

It is even a vapor

that appeareth for a little while,

then vanisheth away.

What a queer thing for James to say.

It's a strange statement to find
in the new testament, is it not?

Is he being cynical? Is he joking?

Well, hardly.

If you look at the context
in which this statement appears,

you will see that James
is speaking to those

who make great assumptions
as to the future

with never a thought
of the contingency of life itself.

He's addressing himself to those
who never think of god

and who act and live as though
they had a mortgage on time,

those who give no thought to the fact
that they may never see tomorrow,

those who act as though
they had a long lease on life,

as though they had immunity somehow,

as though that cold and clammy hand
of the dread messenger

would never touch their hearts.

Yet, death inevitably comes

to the king in his palace,

the beggar by the roadside,

the animal in his hole.

But what is death?

Is it to be blown out
like a candle in the wind?

Is it a shivering void in which
there is nothing that lives?

Is it a cold space into
which we are launched

to be evaporated or to disappear?

Are we to believe that
a half-mad eternal humorist

tossed the worlds aloft
and left their destiny to chance?

That a man's life is the development
of a nameless vagrancy?

That a hole in the ground six feet deep
is his final heritage?

There are a thousand insane things
easier to believe than these.

How can we believe that human personality
will not survive

when one who went
into the grave and beyond

came back to say,

"whosoever believeth in me
shall not perish,

but have eternal life."

In a home of which I know,

a little boy, the only son,

was ill of an incurable disease.

Month after month,
the mother had tenderly read to him,

nursed him and played with him,

hoping to keep him from realizing

the dreadful finality
of the doctor's diagnosis.

But as the weeks went by
and he grew no better,

the little fellow
gradually began to understand

the meaning of the term "death,"

and he too knew that soon he was to die.

One day, the mother had been
reading to him the stirring tales

of king Arthur and his knights
of the round table

and of that last glorious battle in which
so many fair knights met their death.

As she closed the book,

the boy lay silent for a moment,

then asked the question that had been
weighing on his childish heart.

"Mother, what is it like to die?

Mother, does it hurt?"

Quick tears sprang to her eye,
and she fled into the kitchen

supposedly to tend
to something on the stove.

She knew it was a question
with deep significance.

She knew it must be answered.

She leaned for an instant against the
kitchen door and breathed a hurried prayer

that the lord would not let her
break down in front of the boy,

that he would tell her what to say.

And the lord did tell her.

Immediately she knew
how to explain it to him.

"Kenneth," she said,
as she returned to his room,

"you remember how,
when you were a little boy,

you would play so hard all day

that when night came
you were too tired even to undress

and would tumble into your mother's bed
and fall asleep?

In the morning, much to your surprise,

you would wake up and find yourself
in your own room in your own bed.

You were there because someone
had loved you and taken care of you.

Your daddy had come with big strong arms
and carried you to your own room.

Kenneth, death is like that.

We just wake up one morning

to find ourselves in the other room...

Our own room where we belong

because the lord Jesus had loved us."

The lad's shining, trusting face
looking up into hers

told her that
there would be no more fear,

only love and trust in his little heart
as he went to meet the father in heaven.

He never questioned again.

And several weeks later,
he fell asleep just as she had said.

That is what death is like.

Yet, in the life beyond,

the question inevitably comes,

"with what body do we move?"

Certainly not with
such a body as ours is today.

Not with rickets or a clubfoot.

Not with twisted spine or withered arm.

Not with calloused hands or wrinkled brow.

Not with a heart filled with
the broken glass of vanquished dreams.

Not with the drunkard's thirst
like the fires of hell,

nor the sensualist's lust
like gnawing worms.

Not with the bitter memories of
a son's crime or a daughter's shame.

Not with the scar across the throat
that the maniac's frenzy made. No!

Not with these do we make our entrance
upon that larger stage.

We rise, not clothed again
in dying Clay,

not garbed once more with
the faded garments of mortal flesh,

but with the shining mercy of god.

If the Bible is true

and Christ has not deceived us,

there awaits beyond the curtain

a life that will never end,

a life of beauty and peace and love.

A life of reunion with loved ones,

who, like ourselves,
have trusted in the very presence of god.

There shall be no more pain,

no more soitow,

nor tears, nor parting, nor death anymore.

Age shall not weary nor the years condemn.

We shall enter into that
for which we were created.

It shall be the journey's end
for the heart and all its hopes.

It shall be the end of the rainbow
for the child-explorers of god.

We have his promise for that.

Let us pray.

Our fathers' god,

to thee who are
the author of our Liberty

and under whom we have our freedom,
we say our prayer.

Make us ever mindful that
we are the heirs of a great heritage

and the trustees of priceless things

lest we forget the price
that was paid for them

or the cost that may yet
have to be met to keep them.

Make us strong, o god, in conviction

with the insight of our perilous times

and in the courage for our testing.

Amen.

J“j“

Dr. Marshall.

I only know I had to give that sermon.

- Can I give you a lift?
- Thank you, sir.

Ladies and gentlemen,
we are interrupting this program

to bring you an important announcement.

The Japanese have attacked
Pearl harbor, Honolulu, from the air

and all na val and military objectives
of the island of oahu,

the principle American base
in the Hawaiian ls/ands.

Attention all military
and na val personnel,

all leaves are canceled

return at once to your bases.

I repeat, return at once to your bases.

Please stand by for further announcement.

Will you let me out, sir?
I'll catch a ride back.

Now came the war years.

Peter made tours of camps,

spoke at bond rallies,
visited army and na vy hospitals.

With the influx of military personnel
and go vernment workers,

his ministerial duties
doubled and tr/pled

and from normandy to okinawa,

lonely boys remembered the canteen in
the basement of an old Washington church.

J“ yes, mares eat oats
and does eat oats j“

j“ and little lambs eat Ivy j“

j“ a kid will eat Ivy too
wouldn't you j“

j“ if the words sound queer
and funny to your ear j“

j“ a little bit jumbled and jive y j“

j“ ll/lares eat oats
and does eat oats j“

j“ and little lambs eat Ivy j“

j“ oh, mares eat oats, and does eat oats
and little lambs eat Ivy j“j“

sorry. Girls, it doesn't seem possible,

but they went through
that last batch of sandwiches.

Reinforcements coming up.

For a senator,
you do make the best coffee.

I think it's the egg.

Oh, by the way,

did I congratulate you
on your recent victory?

- Recent victory?
- Being returned to the senate, of course.

- Oh, that was nearly two years ago.
- Oh, my, how time flies.

Well, better late than never.
Congratulations.

Thank you.

What's the matter, Catherine?

Oh, nothing.
I guess I'm just a little tired.

I'll take it.
You watch my coffee, hmm?

Thank you, senator.

Catherine.

J“ don't sit under the apple tree j“

-j“ with anyone else but me j“
-pardon me, lady.

J“ anyone else but me
anyone else but me j“

j“ no, no, no
don't sit under the apple tree j“

j“ with anyone else but me j“

j“ till / come marching home j“

j“ don't go walking down lo vers'Lane j“

-j“ with anyone else but me j“
-j“ no, no, no j“

j“ anyone else but me
no, no, no j“

j“ anyone else but me
no, no, no j“

j“ don't go walking down lovers ' Lane
with anyone else but me j“

Laura, I'm so happy you've decided to
join us. And you've brought flowers too.

I have no intention of joining you.
And the flowers are for Mr. Lincoln.

It's my custom, if you remember,

to decorate his parlor
on the Eve of his birthday.

- Yes, and it's such a sweet custom too.
- Hey, ma'am,

- we're fresh out of sandwiches.
- Refreshments coming right up now.

- I'll take 'em.
- Oh, well, thank you.

- He's so...
- Rude.

Yes. No! Yes. Good night, Laura.

J“ from a guy who heard
from the guy next door to me j“

j“ the girl he met just lo ves to pet
and it fits you to a ”t” j“

j“ so, don't sit under the apple tree j“

j“ with anyone else but me j“

j“ till I come marching home j“j“

What's the matter, Willie?
Don't you like my knuckleball?

Just get over the plate.

Maybe I'm too fast for you.
Now see what you can do with this one.

There it comes!

- Boy, that's a beaut.
- Wow.

Don't worry, Willie. Don't worry.

Oh, good morning.

A great little ballplayer,
that Willie updike.

You Mark my words. We're going
to hear from that boy someday.

I'm awfully sorry about the window.
Naturally I'll pay for replacing it.

There's nothing very special
about it, is there?

Oh, you wouldn't think so, Dr. Marshall.

It was only the Abigail Fowler window...

A memorial to my grandmother.

Oh, I am sorry, miss Fowler.

- But I'm thankful it's only a small pane.
- Yes.

I suppose we should be thankful
that the church is standing at all.

- Just what do you mean by that?
- I don't think I need to explain.

Now, Laura, we agreed
there was to be no bickering,

no rehashing of personal grievances.

Now, just what do you mean?

Is this a censuring committee
or something?

Well, not exactly. But an incident,

possibly a situation, has arisen
that requires immediate discussion.

Uh, suppose we adjourn
to your study, Dr. Marshall?

By all means.

Miss Fowler.

Mrs. Peyton, would you sit here?

Colonel whiting. Mr. Peyton.

No, thanks, I'll stand here.

Sir?

No calls, please, miss crilley,
unless it's Mrs. Marshall calling.

Now, what is this situation that's arisen?

Well, it's the canteen, Dr. Marshall.

Laura... miss Fowler...
Wants to close it up.

Close the canteen?

Why, I've never heard
of anything so fantastic.

I understand how you feel, Dr. Marshall.

I admit I was wholeheartedly
for it in the beginning,

but these things can get out of hand.

Well, is it the... is it the noise
you're referring to?

N-No. No one's complained about that.

Well, then what in heaven's name
is there to complain about?

Have you ever visited the canteen,
miss Fowler?

Indeed not.
I've disapproved of it from the start.

But, as with many of your innovations,
I've kept silence.

I can't say I've not been aware
of your silences, miss Fowler.

They've been very eloquent.

How could they be othennise,
Dr. Marshall?

New York Avenue church
was my life, my heritage.

It's as if my very home
had been invaded by strangers,

invited by a stranger.

And an immigrant to boot.

Since you mention it, yes.

And one deliberately and defiantly alien

to all that this church has stood for.

Oh, I've watched you strolling the streets
of Washington in that shirt and coat

belonging at a race meet.

I've watched you build your ego
by changing and uprooting.

I've watched the old things go.

The quartet, an elegant tradition
in the New York Avenue church,

replaced by the booming choir of yours.

But, Laura, everybody thinks
the choir's better.

- Please let her go on, Mrs. Peyton.
- I'm almost finished, Dr. Marshall.

I could bring up a hundred affronts
that I've endured without protest.

But the other night
when I visited the church

and found the lecture room where
Mrs. Hathaway conducted her Bible class

turned into a cabaret,

the Lincoln parlor desecrated...

The Lincoln parlor?

Oh, it wasn't anything so terrible.

I mean, it wasn't anything you
couldn't see in any park these days.

But maybe it was a little out of place
on Mr. Lincoln's sofa.

So that's what all this is about?

A young sailor and a girl?

- Then you did know about it.
- Certainly I knew.

I turned it over to them.
I even told them to lock the door.

It's too bad they didn't.

We're all adults, Dr. Marshall,
and reasonably broad-minded,

but I think in this instance...

Where else could those
two kids go to be alone?

Where in Washington could they even
find a doorstep in these days?

As an immigrant and an alien,

I can't claim to know Mr. Lincoln
as well as you people,

but I don't believe
that he minded a bit

that those two spent their poor little
two-hour honeymoon in his parlor.

Honeymoon?

That's right. That's all they had.

I married them round 7:00 that night.

He was shipping out at 9:00.

She was a little girl from an Iowa farm,
a government worker,

one of these strangers I permitted
to invade New York Avenue church.

He was a boy from California.
They met in this canteen.

Hello? Oh, hello, Catherine.

All right, darling. In about 10 minutes.

All right. Good-bye.

My wife has a medical appointment.
Our son will be alone, so I must go home.

As for the canteen, it stays open,
or you can find yourselves a new minister.

Now are you being fantastic, Dr. Marshall?

True, there was a slight misunderstanding,
but it's been cleared up.

- Sure, a case of mistaken identity.
- Oh, Dr. Marshall,

if only you had let me know
about that sweet little couple,

I could have baked them a cake.

- Where's the kitchen?
- Uh... oh, right here.

- Oh.
- A fine, big, cozy kitchen

with a great pot of scotch broth
steaming away

and shortbread in the oven.

- Which reminds me, are you hungry?
- Yes.

Yes, so am I.

Mommy!

Hi. Hello, Peter John.

Will you excuse us for a minute,
Peter John?

Why don't you play
down here for a while?

- Can I melt some ice cubes in the kitchen?
- All right.

What's the matter, Catherine?

I have tuberculosis.

There's no need to be afraid of me.

I asked the doctor.
I asked all three doctors.

It isn't dangerous.

I can't give it to you or to Peter John.

It's... it's what's known as a closed case.

Dr. Black wants you to call him.
He'll tell you all about it.

But this doesn't mean that...
That you've got to go away?

Oh, no. Just to bed
for three or four months.

- That's not too bad.
- How can you say that?

Who'll look after the house?
Who'll take care of Peter John?

I don't know, but there'll be somebody.

Not every maid in Washington's
on the swing shift.

Now, darling, you go and change.
I'll turn your bed down.

What about dinner?

I think Peter John's
throwing something together now.

Hello, darling. How's everything?

Oh, all sparkling excitement.

I can hear the cars
passing in the street.

Once in a while a bird comes
and sits on the sill.

Oh. Poor Catherine.

Why do you say that? Why don't you tell me
that everything's going to be all right?

Or are you simply reconciled to all this?

Oh, darling. I'm sorry.

"Miss myrtle Bixby." Who's she?

A little girl who used to live
next door to me when I was seven.

She had beautiful red hair,
and I was jealous of it.

So I told the other kids it was dyed.

"Mr. R.J. Ross of keyser high school"?

My algebra teacher.
I cheated in a final examination.

Othennise, I wouldn't have passed.

And "Mrs. Lionel eaton"?

A girl from Agnes Scott.

We had a fight,
over you as a matter of fact.

I'm writing to everyone in my past life
that I ever did a mean thing to or...

Or thought a mean thought about or...
Or cheated or deceived.

- But why?
- Because I've tried everything else.

There must be something
I've done to someone.

There has to be some reason for this.

Now, you know better than that.

God doesn't send misfortune
by way of retaliation.

But I have to do something. I...

You don't realize what it's... what
it's like lying here month after month.

Yes, I do.

No, you don't. You couldn't.

You're... you're healthy
and strong and... and alive.

Daddy!

I promised to take him to the zoo.

Come on. You drink up your milk.

If it'll make you feel any better,
I'll mail these.

Please.

Peter?

Peter, you still pray for me, don't you?

You haven't given up?

Oh, Catherine.

Do you wonder we're baffled?

One could say that
for almost three years

your wife has been
standing at a crossroads

without taking a step in either direction.

She's had every new test,
every treatment known to science.

We've even used her as a Guinea pig.

I wish I could offer as much as
a word of encouragement,

but I wouldn't even dare to do that.

Well, thank you, doctor.

I appreciate your seeing me after hours.

Anytime, Dr. Marshall.

Something wrong with the furnace.

Oh, god, what's happened to us?

You and me.

Whatever it is, it...
It's got to be my fault.

As I told Catherine when she said
there must be some reason

you don't punish.

Could it be that I've...

I've presumed on your friendship

and you're just putting me in my place?

Did I get a little fatheaded,

perhaps reading into your plans
more than you meant

or interpreting them conveniently
in my own direction?

Perhaps miss Fowler was right.

I was just building my own ego
under the pretense of building for you.

Oh, I know there are ministers

doing a much betterjob
for you than I am

and not making nearly
as much noise about it.

Maybe I like this town too much.

Maybe I'm just standing off

watching myself walk down
Pennsylvania Avenue

saying, "hello, Mr. Ambassador."

"How are you, Mr. Senator?"
"Good morning, Mr. Vice president."

Thinking that Peter Marshall
sure has come a long way.

Well, I haven't, lord.

I'm way back there.

I haven't as much and I'm not as much
as I was when I was...

When I was working with one of these.

Lord, why can't
I get through to you anymore?

You know there's nothing I want so much
in my life as to help Catherine, but...

I can't do it by myself.

I can't do anything without you.

Surely Jesus had the power to lift
from the dust of disease

the flowers whose stems
had been crushed

or withered in the mildews
of human misery.

There came to this woman from galilee

the assurance that if she could but touch
him, even if only the hem of his garment,

she would be cured of her awful malady.

As this thought
burned itself into her mind,

her faith was curiously stirred

as it wrestled in the birth throes
of a great resolve.

It was daring, fantastic perhaps,
but it was worth trying.

It could only fail,

and she was no stranger to failure.

Thus reasoning, she
pushes her way through the dense throng.

People get in the way
now she is desperate.

He must not pass so near
and yet so far away

is she to lose this opportunity?
She must touch him.

Now she can almost reach him.

At last, just as he passes,
she is able to reach out her hand

and with the tip of her finger
she touches his robe.

It was enough.

Oh, god, I've tried.

But I can't touch you.

My faith's worn out.

I can't beg or beseech or demand anymore.

I haven't the strength
of that woman in galilee.

I can't fight my way through
whatever wall there is between us.

I've done everything I've known how to do.

If you want me to spend
the rest of my life as an invalid,

here I am.

Do whatever you want with me.

Catherine!

Catherine.

I knew it. I knew it.

Halfway through the sermon
it was as though a voice said,

"Catherine's all right.
Catherine's all right."

Yes, but... but, Peter,
it worked backwards.

- I told him he didn't have to do anything.
- That's all he was waiting for.

He just wanted the gift of
every bit of you. Oh, my darling.

Of course, the miracle wasn't complete.

But the next day the doctors
admitted the change and marveled at it.

They advised continued rest,
but a change of scenery

so Peter made the down payment
on a little house on the cape

and there we spent the summer.

All my life / will recall it
as the happy summer.

Peter painted the shutters blue

and planted the little red roses
that reminded him of Scotland

and he and Peter John built a boat.

I expected the boat to sink
first time out, but it pro ved seaworth y

and two old salts
sailed the bounding main.

A bonny boat, eh?

- And a bonny surprise for mother.
- Aye.

But we'll have to handle this
with exquisite tact.

It's her house,
and it has to be her decision.

Well, gosh, dad,
she's just got to say yes.

Good night. Gee whiz.

Now, you watch it.
With your Agnes Scott mother,

you're liable to "gee whiz" yourself
right out of this deal.

What are you two trying to put over?

- His name's Jeff.
- And smart.

Boy. Gosh, I'm so glad
you're crazy about him.

- Aye, a bonny boat.
- Aye.

When we return next summer, you'll
be big enough to handle her yourself.

- Aye.
- Hey, you're locking up my book.

All the books are packed
and in the car.

A little paperback called
the case of the perfumed mouse?

- I think so.
- Well, I hope so.

I can't spend the winter wondering whether
it was the blonde who murdered the redhead

or whether it was
the fellow in the closet.

Well, of course not.

Hey, where's Jeff?
We can't go without Jeff.

- Jeff's packed and in the car too.
- Oh, boy.

Aren't you wonderful?
You wear well, darling.

Yep, our quiet days are over.

As of right now.

- Hi, Mrs. Marshall.
- Hello, Lyle. Eddie.

Oh, I'm afraid you'll have to slide out
on this side, Dr. Marshall.

Peter John.
Hiya, doc. You sure look good.

What's the matter, doctor?

Oh, it's nothing... nothing, I'm sure.

How are you boys? I've got to rush.
I'll see you after services.

- Good morning, Dr. Marshall.
- Good morning.

It isn't that I grew soft
and lazy on vacation.

It isn't that I've prepared no sermon.

It's that ministers are mortal

and are subject to human weaknesses.

Suddenly, and for no reason
that I can think of,

I'm homesick.

I want to talk about Scotland...

That brave, that lovely little land

who, when parting with a son,
keeps forever a piece of his heart.

No matter where a scotsman goes,

how high he climbs

or how low he Burrows,

there are times,

as with me as I stand in this pulpit,

when the smell of rain-soaked Heather

is so close in his nostrils...

I'll have to ask you to forgive me.

I know I'm acting very strange.

I'm feeling very strange.

I can tell you very little now,
Mrs. Marshall.

It might be a muscular spasm.

- It might be a coronary thrombosis.
- I don't know what that means.

It means that it could be very serious.

Very serious indeed.

- I'll call you this evening.
- Thank you, doctor.

Excuse me. Okay.

Why can't I see daddy?

Come, Catherine. I'll drive you home.

Come, Peter John.

When we
came home, Peter John and I prayed

Peter John is prayer was simple.

All he asked was,
”please don't let my daddy die. ”

Lasked that god would
take away my icy fear.

The doctors call told us the worst.

It was a thrombosis.

Peter had less than a fighting chance.

As word of Peters
critical condition spread,

a fountain of prayer
Rose to the very heavens.

Letters and telegrams
arrived by the hundreds

all with the same message...

”Praying for Peter. ”

A few days later, the crisis passed

Here we are
at the end of the third inning

of this n/p and tuck ball game

with a score of senators three,
cle veland two.

This is gonna be a big year for us.

I'd prefer you took no
rooting interest, Dr. Marshall.

In fact, I could make it an order.

So you could. But why?

Dr. Marshall, if you were an ignorant man,
I might try to deceive you.

But since that isn't the case,
I'm going to be frank.

You came very close
to not pulling through.

Oh, I know that.
But don't hand yourself any bouquets.

You had nothing to do with it.

God just didn't happen to want me.

Catherine, will you please resume
walking like a normal woman?

I'm simply following
the doctor's instruction.

Does he give ballet lessons
on the side?

Oh, Peter, this is nothing to joke about.

He only let you come home a week early
on certain conditions.

No noise, no excitement,

no walking up and down the stairs.

And you just can't be trusted.

Icant?

I left the house for an hour yesterday...
One hour...

And you washed the dog.

Now, see how you exaggerate. Peter John
washed the dog. I... I merely looked on.

The dog was washed in the basement. You
walked downstairs and you walked up again.

And you called miss crilley.

Well, that's only because you've
embroiled the poor girl in a conspiracy.

She only gives me
half my messages, half my mail.

Hello. Oh, hello, senator Harvey.

You're returning Peter's call?

About a little bridge game this evening.

Mmm, just the three of us.

You tell him to be around at 7:00
and to be on his toes.

About 7:00, senator Harvey.

This is going to be my first sermon
when I return to my pulpit.

Peter.

You know you can't go back
for at least a year, maybe longer.

I'm going back next week.

When god spared me, patched up my heart,

he meant that he still had something
for me to do on this side.

Peter, sometimes I think
you want to leave us.

Don't be silly, Catherine.
I'll never leave you. Believe that.

And take the proper view.

Years ago in the fog
I gave myself and everything I had,

or ever would have, to the lord.

And not in half measure.

My text is taken
from the first book of kings,

chapter 18 and verse 21.

If the lord be god, then follow him:

But if baal, then follow him.

The leaders of ancient Israel,

including the king, had come together
to make a great decision.

It was a national emergency.

Elijah the prophet had summoned them
to meet on mount carmel

to settle no less a question
than whom they should worship.

William penn has said that men
must be governed by god

or they will be ruled by tyrants.

Here then was a Hebrew prophet

facing the very same issue
and making his people face it with him.

They all knew
the history of their nation,

how god had led
their fathers out of bondage

into a new land as pioneers,

how his holy law had been written
into the nation's constitution,

how the ten commandments
had become for them a bill of rights

and a declaration of dependence.

But something in the nation's life
had begun to fade.

Moral decay had set in.

They had begun to love things
more than principles.

They had become materialists.
And materialism had a god,

a god of the flesh,

and his name was baal.

Now, Elijah saw the danger.

He saw what would happen to the nation
when its moral fiber was weakened.

So, he summoned
the 450 prophets of baal,

the king and the nation's leaders.

It had to be either-or.

They had to get on one side or the other.

You remember the dramatic test,
the trial by fire,

how, on the parched,
sunbaked slopes of carmel,

Elijah announced his proposed test.

Let sacrifices be laid upon the altar.

Let him be god who would send down fire
and consume the offerings.

And let baal and his priests
have the first inning.

Then began the weird, pagan performance

with Elijah jibing at them
with pointed sarcasm,

"cry louder, why don't you? Cry louder.
He is a god you are crying to, isn't he?

Perhaps he's gone for a walk.
Peradventure he's asleep.

Cry louder. Wake him up."

All daylong he taunted at them
until hoarse with their shouting,

wearied with their paganistic dancing,
they were exhausted.

Yet no voice spoke. No voice answered.

Then Elijah went over
to an abandoned jehovah altar,

set upon it a sacrifice

and offered his prayer to jehovah,

not ranting or foaming or shouting.

And the answer came in fire
which consumed the offering.

Then the people looking on cried
as they fell on their faces,

"the lord... he is god.
The lord... he is god."

Now, I suggest to you

that america needs a prophet today,

a prophet who will
set before the nation

the essential choices.

In the words of that great poet
and essayist, j.B. Holland,

"god, give us men!

Men whom the lust
of office does not kill,

men whom the spoils
of office cannot buy,

men who possess opinions and a will,

men who have honor;
Men who will not lie,

men who can stand before a demagogue

and damn his treacherous flatteries
without winking!

Tall men, sun-crowned,
who live above the fog

in public duty and in private thinking."

Millions of people in america
live in moral fogs.

They move in a sort of spiritual twilight.

Modified immorality,
modified dishonesty

is the practice of millions more.

Surely the time has come for us
to be honest about it.

If we have thrown away
our national heritage,

if we no longer believe
that this nation was founded under god,

if, contrary to what
is stamped upon our coins,

our trust is not in god but in baal,
let us say so.

Let us, at least, not be hypocrites.

Yes, like the ancient Hebrew nation,

america needs a prophet like an Elijah,

a prophet who will have the ear of america
and who will say to her now,

"if the lord be god, then follow him.

But if baal, then follow him
and go to hell."

Let us pray.

- Good morning, Dr. Marshall.
- Good morning, miss Fowler.

- You seem quite natural.
- I'm afraid so.

A little memento of your return.

Why, miss Fowler. May I open it?

Oh, nothing really.
Just a little button

that I clipped from an old jacket that
I thought perhaps you might enjoy having.

Why, I'm overjoyed, miss Fowler.

Uh, did it come
from someone in your family?

A family friend.

A Scottish immigrant.
His name was Jones... John Paul Jones.

Why, miss Fowler,
thank you so much.

I can't tell you
what this means to me.

That was just her way of telling you
that everything is all right.

And everything is. Good evening.
I mean, good morning, Dr. Marshall.

Against all my betterjudgment,
may I present senators wiley and Prescott?

- How do you do?
- How do you do, gentlemen?

What do you mean
against your better judgment?

- One of my best friends is a senator.
- Well, that's encouraging.

Doctor, we have a... for want
of a better word... a proposition.

Uh, when would it be convenient
for you to talk it over?

- It's rather urgent.
- It is? Am I being investigated?

Your head should be
if you agree to listen.

Well, now I am curious.

Uh, while I'm changing,
why don't you go round to my study?

Not without Catherine.
Catherine?

Peter John, you go wait in the car.

I need her support.

Peter Marshall, chaplain
of the United States senate?

I... I couldn't be more highly
honored or more taken by surprise.

And that this should happen today,

the 10th anniversary of my becoming
an American citizen.

Peter, you can't consider it.

Peter, I owe you a great debt,

and I mean to repay that debt
by keeping you from doing this.

I'm afraid we didn't
realize the situation.

If the added duties of the chaplaincy
would imperil Dr. Marshall's health,

we'll merely express our deep regret

and to our colleagues tomorrow,
our deep disappointment.

Naturally. Much as we've wanted this, I...

Thank you, darling.

I'll be waiting in the car
with Peter John.

The senate will be in order.

Our new chaplain, Dr. Peter Marshall,

will offer the prayer.

Our father in heaven,

we pray for the members of this body
and their several responsibilities.

Make them see, dear lord,

that you are not the god
of any one party,

of any one nation or of any one race.

Teach us that freedom may be seen,
not as the right to do as we please,

but as the opportunity
to do what is right.

Give us the courage
to stand for something

lest we fall for anything.

Save us from hot heads
that would lead us to act foolishly

and from cold feet
that would keep us from acting at all.

Create new warmth and love
between the members of the senate

so that they may go at their work,
not headfirst, but heart first.

Help us, our father, to show
other nations an america to imitate,

an america that loves fair play,
honest dealing,

straight talk,
real freedom and faith in god.

Help us make this god's own country

by living like god's own people.

Amen.

Catherine, I'm afraid
you'll have to ask the blessing.

The lord knows I'm not grateful
for Turkey hash, and I can't fool him.

J“ and for bonny j“

j“ Annie Laurie j“

j“ I'd/ay j“

j“ ll/le doon j“

j“ and Dee j“j“

- that was for you, my love.
- Thank you.

And that concludes our concert
for this evening.

It's already 45 minutes
past Peter John's bedtime.

Gosh, mom. Daddy's home tonight.

Daddy's had a long, hard day too.

You run upstairs and brush your teeth.
I'll be up in a minute.

- Uh, Jeff hasn't had his walk yet.
- Yeah!

Don't you want daddy and me
to take Jeff for his walk?

- Oh, let's all go, the four of us.
- Oh, boy.

Hi, Jeff! Hi, Jeff!

Why, just once,
couldn't you go to bed early?

I will, darling, tomorrow night.
Not tonight.

How I love this place.

With all that isn't quite right about it,
think of all that is.

You can feel it beating,
the pulse of Liberty for the world.

I'm so grateful to have been
a small part of it.

Catherine, I'm in great pain.

Would you please call the doctor?

I'll call the ambulance.
I'll call from downstairs.

Sneaky fellow, isn't he?

I'll get dressed and come
to the hospital with you.

No, you cannot.

You... you can't leave our son.

See you, darling.

See you in the morning.

I'm all clean... brushed my teeth.

What's the matter, mommy?

Peter Marshall's final prayer.

"Oh, god, open our eyes

and let us see
how simple a man's life can be.

Where we cannot convince"...

"Let us be willing to persuade.

For small deeds done are better
than great deeds planned."

Amen.

With the summer,
Peter John and I went back to Cape Cod

ll/lr. Briscoe had opened the house.

A friendly ne/ghbor
had launched Peter John is boat.

Nothing seemed changed

come on, Jeff.

The shutters Peter had painted
were just as blue.

The little red roses he had planted
were bursting into bloom.

Nothing seemed changed

Peter John, no!

Peter John, you can't take the boat out.

- Why?
- You're too little, darling.

- Daddy didn't think so.
- But daddy isn't...

Why don't you come with me?

Don't you remember?
I can't. I get...

Please, mom, just this once.

Please?

A bonny boat.

See you, darling.

See you in the morning.