from In The Spirit of Christmas; Published Oct., 1905 by Charles Scribner’s Sons “He that regardeth the day, regardeth it unto the Lord.” Romans 6:6 It is a good thing to observe Christmas day. The mere marking of times and seasons, when men agree to stop work and make merry together, is a wise and wholesome custom. But there is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas. Are you willing to: Forget what you have done for other people, and to remember what other people have done for you? Ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world? Put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground? See that your fellow-men are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy? Own that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life? Close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness— are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas. Are you willing to: Stoop down and consider the needs and the desires of little children? Remember the weakness and loneliness of people who are growing old? Stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough? Bear in mind the things that other people have to bear on their hearts? Try to understand what those who live in the same house with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you? Trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you? Make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open—are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas. Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world—stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death—and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love? Then you can keep Christmas. And if you keep it for a day, why not always? But you can never keep it alone.

You may have heard Presbyterians referred to as the “frozen chosen.” This is particularly unfair to Brick Church. We attract thousands to our steps to sing and usher in the Christmas season. We shout “Hallelujah” at the top of our collective lungs on Easter. We shut down our block on 92nd Street for hot dogs, banjo music and strawberry shortcake. We are not frozen. All of this liveliness would be totally foreign to our founding forefathers and mothers. They considered it unseemly for the Church to commemorate special days in the Christian year unless mentioned in the Bible—which is silent on the subject of Dec. 25. This point of view stems from a strict interpretation of Calvinism (not endorsed by Calvin himself), brought by Scots Presbyterians and New England Puritans to New York. Brick Church upheld this tradition. Our Anglican, Lutheran and Roman Catholic friends suffered no such prohibition, and celebrated heartily. This could be good news. After all, George Washington won the Battle of Trenton on the morning of Dec. 26, 1776 while Britain’s German mercenaries were recovering from their Christmas festivities. We don’t know if Brick Church members celebrated Christmas at home. Dr. Rodgers, our first pastor, was a sociable person. “He lives in elegant style and entertains company as genteelly as the first gentlemen of the city,” wrote an acquaintance, and was “on the dinner and supper list of Mrs. John Jay.” Not all secular social activities were acceptable. Whether to celebrate holidays or to lubricate daily life, intemperance was a problem for Rodgers-era elders and into the Gardiner Spring era. In 1818 the General Assembly recommended in a pastoral letter that “members of our church abstain even from the common use of ardent spirits.” Card-playing, theatre-going, the waltz and Sunday mail delivery did not agree with Presbyterian sensibilities. As the 19th century progressed, social norms relaxed, Santa Claus arrived and Presbyterians began to thaw. Brick Church responded, though rather slowly. In 1867, a Brick Church mission held a Christmas Festival for more than 1000 people. Dr. Henry van Dyke changed the old order forever. On Dec. 25, 1888, Brick Church celebrated Christmas Day with a worship service for the first time. In subsequent years, the service often included one of his stories or poems such as Keeping Christmas; which was published in 1905 and is still meaningful today (see next article). You can read The Other Wise Man, perhaps his best-known story, online here. Today, Brick Church’s Christmas celebrations draw hundreds of people from all over the city. The Park Avenue Tree Lighting & Carol Sing, held each December, began in 1946 to honor those who gave their lives in World War II. When the bugler plays Taps and trees light up for miles down Park Avenue, we know that New York’s favorite season has begun. At Brick Church, it is followed by the Candlelight Carol Service, the Children’s Christmas Pageant & Family Service, and Worship on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. What would Brick Church’s founders think of our Christmas traditions now? Some would strongly disapprove. But others might be ready to find joy in their faith, and perhaps slip into a seat late on Christmas Eve and pass a candle to their neighbor.

If it’s November, it must be Stewardship Campaign time. Anyone who’s been a Brick Church member for over a year is familiar with the annual church calendar. But it wasn’t always like this. For much of our history, the main source of income for church operations was pew rentals. Most of us sit in more or less the same area every Sunday. However, we don’t officially reserve our places, unlike members in the past often did. Families would lease their own pew, equipped with a door, and seem to have developed proprietary feelings about their space. A story is told about a stranger coming to church when Dr. Rodgers, our first pastor, was preaching. The visitor walked in but was not invited into any pew. Dr. Rodgers asked the sexton, “Frank, show the gentleman to my seat,” at which point many doors were opened. Some people even ventured into pew decoration. In 1824, the Trustees prohibited (unless they had given prior consent) the ”lining of pews with green cloth or painting them the same color.” In 1791, gallery seat rentals ranged from 24 shillings to £3 (about $442 today). On the ground floor fees started at £1.1; most were £3-4 and one went for £8 (about $1178 today*). Fees increased for some remodeled pews in 1795 and by half again the following year. And if pew holders did not or could not renew the lease, their pew would be auctioned off. There were other regular sources of income. Collections were taken during the service, but the early custom was to contribute only small change. Burial fees were more significant, and varied by the age of the deceased and location of the grave (8 shillings for a child in the churchyard; £3 for an adult in a vault in 1791). Families also paid to rent a cloth cover for the casket, for digging the grave or opening the vault, and using the hearse and driver. Charitable contributions were also handled differently. Until 1926 benevolences were considered an individual rather than Church-wide effort, supported by members interested in a particular cause. From Brick Church’s beginning, however, Deacons collected and administered annual giving for the charity school and a quarterly offering on Communion Sundays for the poor of the church. Despite frequent increases in pew rents, these revenues frequently did not cover all of the church’s expenses. Dr. Rodgers went door to door to raise money for our first building. In 1771, we held a lottery that discharged the church’s debt. Other shortfalls were met by special subscriptions. Trustees routinely borrowed to cover deficits. When the Endowment Fund was established in 1894, its income was a welcome (and the largest) source of revenue. Over time it became clear that the traditional approach was not ideal. For a short time in the 1870s, we tried a plan of pledging and weekly giving for benevolences that worked initially but the novelty wore off and it was abandoned. Nevertheless, change was in the works. In 1925, Brick Church adopted the “Budget Plan,” asking members for one annual pledge that would cover both operating costs and benevolences. Even so, pew rentals continued until 1939. Today, pledges make up 65% of our budget. It is up to all of us as a congregation to support the church we want – its worship, music, education and ministries. And we can sit anywhere we want. *Eric W. Nye, Pounds Sterling to Dollars: Historical Conversion of Currency, accessed Friday, Sept. 16, 2016

If you walk through Brick Church, you can’t escape the portraits. Rooms and hallways are populated with formal figures from the past, in poses from serious to debonair. From these notable senior pastors, we profile three below. Please give them a nod and a thank-you when you pass them next. Rev. John Rodgers John Rodgers was our immensely energetic first pastor. Coming from Delaware in 1765, he served both the Wall St. Church and the New or Brick Church. He led a two-hour worship service every week, with a sermon of about an hour delivered from memory. These were so emotional that both he and the congregation often ended up in tears. On alternate Sundays the congregation attended an afternoon service as well. Beyond worship, Dr. Rodgers led prayer services, catechism classes and lectures and made frequent family visits that were not simply social calls but included catechism drills for the whole family. He also went door to door to raise money for the first Brick Church building. Like many patriotic members, Dr. Rodgers left the city when the Revolutionary war broke out and regular church activities stopped completely. The British used our building as a hospital. He spent the war years as a chaplain to Continental Army units, to New York State bodies and as a visiting pastor. After the war, Dr. Rodgers preached a famous sermon on Dec. 11, 1783 that elicited a thank you note from George Washington. We have that letter at the Brick Church to this day. His sermon was in the style of the day: quite long, but well structured and easy to follow. After opening comments on the biblical text, Dr. Rodgers says: “If you will please to attend, I will: I. Point you to some of the great things our God has done for us; and for which we have cause to be glad this day. II. Shew you how we ought to manifest this gladness.” It is eloquent and heartfelt. No wonder Washington liked it. Rev. Gardiner Spring Gardiner Spring, just out of seminary, accepted the call to Brick Church in 1810 after three others had declined. His was an era of uptown expansion of the city, social unrest, religious revivals, the War of 1812 against the British, passionate theological disputes about the nature of human sinfulness, and most profoundly, the issue of slavery. Dr. Spring tackled them all. He moved Brick Church to Fifth Avenue in 1858, instituted the first full choir and acquired our current church bell. He added prayer meetings, adult classes and mission-oriented Sunday Schools largely for the children of non-members, often poor, among many other accomplishments, while trying to remain moderate theologically and politically. But as the slavery issue became increasingly prominent, the time for moderation passed. Today he is best known for the Spring Resolutions of 1861 in support of the Union after the South had seceded. Rev. Henry van Dyke Henry van Dyke deserves our thanks not only for writing the text for Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee but for worship innovations that we take for granted today: celebrating Christmas Day as a church holiday, holding a special Good Friday service and adding the congregational Lord’s Prayer to regular worship. He was called in 1883; a time when the church was not in the best of health. The building was not in good repair and membership was low. Young, lively and personable, he reinvigorated the Church. Besides preaching, leading the congregation, editing the Psalter and writing much of the Book of Common Worship, he wrote poetry and stories, the best known of which is The Story of the Other Wise Man. Dr. van Dyke was also a popular speaker and teacher. After leaving the Brick Church to teach and preach at Princeton, he served as a diplomat, posted by fellow Presbyterian President Woodrow Wilson as minister to the Netherlands and Luxembourg just before World War I. Look him up and prepare to be humbled by his extraordinary resume.