VON OGDEN VOGT: EXEMPLAR OF RELIGION AND ART 1879-1964
By John F. Hayward, Professor
of Philosophy, Emeritus, Southern Illinois University
This master liturgist,
who excelled at celebrating Life in the liberal tradition, was
born in Altamont, Illinois. Following his years of education at
Beloit College, Yale Divinity School, and Harvard Divinity School,
he served as a Congregational minister from 1911 to 1925 and then
became a Unitarian minister. Here Professor John F. Hayward speaks
personally of the Rev. Von Ogden Vogt, his mentor in religion
and the arts before Hayward began his teaching career at the University
of Chicago and the University of Southern Illinois.
How did I come to know Dr. Vogt?
He was minister of Chicago's First Unitarian Church from 1925
until his retirement in 1944. In 1940, the year I entered Meadville
Theological School in Chicago, I discovered that he and his wife
were close personal friends with Sidney Snow, President of Meadville,
and his wife, Margaret. Mrs. Snow and Dr. Vogt's wife, Ellen,
were both gracious, blunt-speaking, high-principled old time New
England women. Sidney Snow was the quintessential Harvard graduate
with aristocratic airs and populist values. Mrs.Snow called her
husband "Siddo," and Mrs. Vogt always spoke of "Von." At the time
I knew them, they both had grown children who were not nearby.
The Snows and Vogts used to play bridge together and occasionally
I was invited in as a fourth—I suspect because I was the
only Meadville student with a Harvard pedigree.
I mention the foregoing details
because to my great surprise I was invited in my freshman year
to preach for Sunday in Dr. Vogt's pulpit at First Church. My
title was "With Liberty and Justice for All"—more or less
FDR type of evaluation of the social structure and needs of the
USA at the time. In my sophomore year I did a stint at the Shelbyville,
IL, church for so-called "field work." In my senior year (1943)
I became Vogt's assistant in two capacities: I did services for
the children in Hull Chapel, 9:30-10:30, and then helped Vogt
do the main church service at 11:00. He had a heart weakness and
his doctor had ordered him to do nothing in the Sunday service
besides the pastoral prayer and the sermon. I handled the rest
of the liturgy.
Vogt's liturgical style left an
indelible imprint upon me. He wore a robe, processed behind the
vested choir while we all sang the opening hymn, and made all
his movements in that large chancel without hurry and with a kind
of statuesque dignity. His voice was clearly articulated and carried
to the far end of the nave without mechanical amplification, without
strain, and with no lack of clarity. He preached largely extemporaneously
in a firm, slow, thoughtful pace, fidgeting with his eye-glasses
over the edge of the high pulpit. The eye-glass twitch always
intrigued and unsettled me: would he ever drop them? He never
did. He would as often address the ceiling as the people, a kind
of high, lofty presentation which put him in the ranks of an earlier
style of oratory. For all
of his dignity and ceremonial precision, he had a few humane lapses
which may have been secretly deliberate. While giving the announcements
he would walk down from the chancel to floor level and, as it
were, chat with the people. The announcements were always followed
by a hymn which he would announce. Sometimes he would forget the
hymn number and peer slowly toward the hymn board, pausing while
reading the number. Also, if his wife, Ellen, felt he had left
anything out of the announcements, she would call out loud and
clear, "Von, don't forget, - - - etc." Thus
I learned that a liberal church could copy a kind of high church
dignity without being stuffy.
First
Unitarian Church on Woodlawn Avenue at Fifty-Seventh Street.
Photo by Richard Speck.
His greatest work was the First Unitarian
Church building itself. When he first came to their ministry the
church was simply that small building which we now call "Hull Chapel."
The new building needing to be built would be an addition to Hull
Chapel. As one who had travelled widely in Europe, he had a special
love for the majesty of Gothic architecture, a love, also, for reasons
other than gothic grandeur and solemnity. He knew that the medieval
church was used for all kinds of community meetings, including commerce.
It was also designed to be a microcosm of the Christian's universe,
lofty as honoring God, long and narrow as expressive of each life
journey, with a bright and attractive altar and reredos representative
of the City of God toward which all pilgrims move. He wanted to
decorate his church with symbolic cartouches of major natural and
cultural activities. On the reredos back of the altar were placed
symbols for life and death, stars and planets, and the range of
living species. In the string course above the arches of the nave
were placed a number of marble cartouches representing various human
professions and trades. His idea was to use the microcosm-macrocosm
stretch to establish a sacred space which is at once a refuge from
the world and a replica of it, corresponding to the inward and outward
facets of religious faith and action. The gothic flavor connects
the people with their historic past. The symbolism and the liturgies
were designed to match the ongoing developments of modern civilization.
Over the entrance he had engraved the phrase: "Up from the world
of the Many to the Overworld of the One." And on the exit lintel
of the same doors was the answering phrase: "Back to the world of
the Many to fulfill the life of the One."
Dr. Vogt told me one subtly humorous
feature of his challenge to Denison Hull, his architect. He said,
"I said to him, 'Denny, I want you to build us a church that will
look simply grand that can be filled by very few people.'" And
so it is: the church looks "grand" because its nave is only about
25' wide, while it is 55' high from the floor to the top of the
fan-vaulted arches and over 100' from entrance to chancel. There
are slightly over 200 chairs in the nave. Thus a small crowd looks
big.
Vogt's
theory of worship, as expressed in his book Modern Worship,
begins with praise. No matter what actual or threatened troubles,
dangers, problems exist, one cannot pray until one acknowledges
with hallelujahs the sacred gift of life itself and all that supports
and goes with life. The next element is contrition: the recognition
that our human efforts seldom if ever match the bounty of divine
benefit. The third element is analysis and resolution of particular
ways in which personal and communal life may be improved and strengthened,
ending again on a note of praise. He was fond of quoting the famous
passage in Isaiah 6 where the prophet's vision of the glory of
God in the temple terrifies him because he regards himself as
"a man of unclean lips" dwelling with a "people of unclean lips."
The angel purges Isaiah's contrition with a coal from the altar
and Isaiah is then ready for God's command to go forth on his
prophetic journey. Another
feature of the church of which Vogt was proud is the crypt where
there is a columbarium of niches in the wall for the placement
of the ashes of deceased persons with their names and identities
inscribed on the little marble slabs covering each niche. He liked
the idea that the church is founded not only upon the grand foundations
of Western history but also on the flesh and blood labors of persons
whose remains are present in its actual foundation. This is not
ancestor worship, but it is ancestor respect. Finally,
here is the wording of the plaque in Chicago's First Unitarian
Church. I was invited to supply the words, and Denison Hull, the
church's architect, designed it and had it cut into a marble slab
which he mounted on the wall of the north aisle, at the middle
point of the nave.
VON OGDEN VOGT
MINISTER OF THIS CHURCH
1925 -1944
MINISTER EMERITUS
1944 - 1964
His wisdom and artistry
inspired the building
of this house and fashioned its order of worship.
His memory endures with
these stones and
lives anew in the voice of praise.
MEMORIAL
TRIBUTE TO VON OGDEN VOGT FIRST UNITARIAN CHURCH, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
September
26, 1964
given by the Rev. John F. Hayward
Entrance
to Burial Crypt
We are gathered to set the seal
of loving memory upon the life and deeds of our Minister Emeritus,
Von Ogden Vogt. Long after he left these four corners we have
felt his presence among us -- in the excellence of the liturgies
he helped to devise and in the dignity and piquancy of this building,
his most glorious monument. It is hard to contemplate that he
is not somewhere on our common earth, that no street in America
any longer is channel for his jaunty step or occasion for his
merry greetings and probing voice and finger. His passing leaves
a gap in the best precincts of our mind long after he left the
familiar precincts of our city. Now we know inwardly how precious
were his return visits among us. For it seemed that he belonged
as naturally and nobly to these four corners as does this beautiful
church. It is fitting that we should seek in this place to fix
in our personal and corporate histories the deeds and qualities
by which he will ever remain our Minister Emeritus.
There are few men, or none, whose
style of life was so completely at one with their characters as
was Dr. Vogt's. If we would recall his churchly leadership we
have only to think of his round monk's head and snow-white tonsure
and the wispy locks on the crown which he would frequently seek
to smooth into an ecclesiastical decorum. If we would remember
his human inquisitiveness, we picture his fretted and curiously
carved hands with their constant active accompaniment to the probings
of his mind. If we would express his sense for the long scope
and drama of life, we follow in the mind's eye the broad sweep
of his arm and the vastly wider arc of his gaze.
For home-like gentleness and relishings,
we see the blue eyes and the little wreaths of merry wrinkles.
His dress was ever appropriate to the manysided concerns of his
day: the clerical collar and long black robe to astonish and elevate
his Unitarian congregation; the tweed jackets as symbol of his
respect for and congruence with this community of scholars on
the Quadrangles; the jaunty bow tie and straw hat to celebrate
the informalities of his Florida retirement and the delights of
friendships renewed in Chicago's pleasant days of May and June.
Interior
of church
All these, however are but the outward
signs and tokens of the man. The voice and its speech are the
true angels of our souls, conveying from the heart of every man's
mystery the most accurate news of his spirit. As a vessel of glass
or clay will ring true or cracked when tapped on the rim, so a
man's voice and its speech will convey to the world the sonorities
or dissonances of his spirit. Dr. Vogt's speech, by the very excellence
of its style, revealed the scope and quality of his ministry.
His cadences were as ringing as the blows of a hammer, as tough
and stubby as its oaken handle. His paragraphs were founded upon
strong shafts of oak laminated with the grace of mahogany and
the fragrance of cedar.
With such gifts of expression he
stood within this pulpit most comfortably and commandingly, and
made a joyful noise unto the Lord. While his eyes roamed the arches
of the ceiling as if searching for the true shapes of wisdom,
his hands danced nervously with his eyeglasses, suspending their
frail glitter suspensefully over the stone floor below. Sometimes,
as a young man, I wished he would drop them as if to break the
tension of expectancy his sermons engendered. Yet my mind starts
in horror at the thought, for like his spectacles, so his life
and bright spirit hung fraily over the edge of ill health, and
the shattering of their music would have brought a most grievous
silence. We are prepared for it now, as we were not then.
We are prepared to say "Farewell"
and "Well done" and "Thank you" to this good man and minister.
Thank you for the priestly gift, for the bright weddings, tender
christenings, and strenthening memorials of so many years. Thank
you for the poetic gift, for the voice of prayer and encouragement,
celebration and challenge, which rang so gloriously among these
noble arches. Thank you for the prophetic gift which first called
to mind the inequities of our burgeoning society and roused a
neighborhood to action. And thank you for the gift of friendship,
forged in the days of active ministry and renewed in faithfulness
through all the years of a splendid old age. A
great company of children and adults, workers and craftsmen, professional
men and householders, theological students and ministers, readers
and teachers, celebrants and sufferers rise up to offer their
appreciation and call him blessed. The plenitude of our thanks
extends also to his dear wife and sons. We doubt not that Ellen
Vogt's quiet grace and gentle good humor were true nourishment
for her husband's life and that her boys grown to manhood contributed
in their way to their father's own astonishing growth down to
the latest years. We salute them with deep affection and pray
for their renewal in joy and peace.
Dr. Vogt's ending was greater than
the beginning. When he returned here periodically in old age to
preach, we saw a perennial youth and growth in his spirit. Twice
in the period of his retirement he published distinguished works.
He is honored in Vero Beach, Florida, for having conceived and
brought to completion their new public library, with its classic
grace and modern vivacity. Thus in those years when most men are
withdrawn from life, he helped to build a temple of learning,
a token of his lifelong respect for the works of the mind. But
his greatest work was his sponsorhip of this temple in the early
years of his ministry here. A true temple of God was, in his mind,
the outward symbol of man's farthest reach and most sublime joy.
It was therefore right that his last literary work, which was
incomplete at his death, should be called, "The Architecture of
Freedom." He had proposed for this book a pilgrim's journey among
the great temples of the western world and the western spirit,
beginning with the Parthenon. His journey in this latest manuscript
carried him finally home to Hyde Park, first to the grand sonorities
of Rockefeller Chapel, and then down the street to this, his most
beloved church. Let me read to you some few of these last words,
written in pain and in the light of his dying vision:
"Only two long city blocks from
the University Chapel is the building of my own parish, the First
Unitarian Church of Chicago. It is an architectural gem. For a
variety of good reasons, the architect, Mr. Denison Hull, used
the idioms of the Gothic language for his structure, including
true masonry vaulting. This latter automatically involves some
traits favorable to the atmosphere of sanctity. The austerity
of stone surfaces, the weight of the arcade piers and the mystery
of the high vault ribs each have their effect. But the major factor
is proportion, the nave being more than twice as high as it is
wide. The rhythm of the arches carries on to the white marble
altar at the far wall, where the eye is lifted, drawn by the brilliance
of the glass in the small rose window to see the gold wings of
four archangels set in trefoils amidst glass of deep blue.
Vocational
Symbols of the First Unitarian Church in Chicago
"It is not a house of dogmatism,
but a place for that association of men in communion with the
Most High which is at once our noblest duty and most complete
fulfillment.
"This claim is the more validated
in that it is not a place of withdrawal without return. Although
there are a number of other ideas symbolized in the building,
the main iconography consists of sixty cartouches of colored marble
set in a narrow band where in a much larger structure would be
a triforium gallery. Those in the chancel round the reredos represent
the works of nature or of God, fire and water, plants and animals,
the sun and moon. Those in the nave are emblems of trades and
professions, a bottle for the doctor, hammer and saw for the carpenter,
and many others. These together represent the recollective review
of the manifold world which is a necessary part of any valid mystic
experience At the same time they teach the ethics of productivity
and assert the dignity of man in his vocations."
"This building is truly an architecture
of mysticism in that it seeks to assist men in their perpetual
quest after a knowledge of All Things, and to lift them up to
some sense of the all-encompassing life that holds us all. And
it is the more valid because of its final admonition carved over
the doors which lead to the outer air: 'Back to the world of the
Many to fulfill the life of the One.'" Thus
ends the manuscript, and the life. Yet I dare to believe that
he whose memory is enshrined in the oneness and integrity of this
building will also go forth with us, "Back to the world of the
Many to fulfill the life of the One."
This master liturgist,
who excelled at celebrating Life in the liberal tradition, was
born in Altamont, Illinois. Following his years of education at
Beloit College, Yale Divinity School, and Harvard Divinity School,
he served as a Congregational minister from 1911 to 1925 and then
became a Unitarian minister. Here Professor John F. Hayward speaks
personally of the Rev. Von Ogden Vogt, his mentor in religion
and the arts before Hayward began his teaching career at the University
of Chicago and the University of Southern Illinois.
Vogt's
theory of worship, as expressed in his book Modern Worship,
begins with praise. No matter what actual or threatened troubles,
dangers, problems exist, one cannot pray until one acknowledges
with hallelujahs the sacred gift of life itself and all that supports
and goes with life. The next element is contrition: the recognition
that our human efforts seldom if ever match the bounty of divine
benefit. The third element is analysis and resolution of particular
ways in which personal and communal life may be improved and strengthened,
ending again on a note of praise. He was fond of quoting the famous
passage in Isaiah 6 where the prophet's vision of the glory of
God in the temple terrifies him because he regards himself as
"a man of unclean lips" dwelling with a "people of unclean lips."
The angel purges Isaiah's contrition with a coal from the altar
and Isaiah is then ready for God's command to go forth on his
prophetic journey. Another
feature of the church of which Vogt was proud is the crypt where
there is a columbarium of niches in the wall for the placement
of the ashes of deceased persons with their names and identities
inscribed on the little marble slabs covering each niche. He liked
the idea that the church is founded not only upon the grand foundations
of Western history but also on the flesh and blood labors of persons
whose remains are present in its actual foundation. This is not
ancestor worship, but it is ancestor respect. Finally,
here is the wording of the plaque in Chicago's First Unitarian
Church. I was invited to supply the words, and Denison Hull, the
church's architect, designed it and had it cut into a marble slab
which he mounted on the wall of the north aisle, at the middle
point of the nave. 
