Erl Purnell Sermon

b24Pentecost 20 ~ October 22, 2006 ~ A sermon preached by The Rev’d Erl G. Purnell at Old St. Andrew’s Church, Bloomfield, CT

Isaiah 53.4-12; Psalm 91.9-16; Hebrews 4.12-16; Mark 10.35-45

Kent School is a boarding school in western Connecticut. It happens to be where you would have found me from age 14 to 17. You would also have found Barby Howe and Nannie Brown there, although they were actually five miles away at the “Girls’ School.” The reasoning for two separate Kent campuses was that boys and girls together would create nothing but problems—like more boy and girls. Anyway, we graduated in 1964.

One of the things I hope somebody writes in my obituary is “Erl Gould Purnell, known by all as Puck, was educated at Kent School and graduated from the University of Pittsburgh…” What’s important here is the word “educated.”

Kent was founded in 1906 by an Episcopal priest and monk from the Order of the Holy Cross, one Frederick Herbert Sill. In fact, on Friday night I was at Kent celebrating the 100^th anniversary of the School. It was an auspicious occasion, filled with a century of memories, legends, and myths. It has also caused me to remember the rock from which I was hewn, and the quarry from which I was digged. That’s a reference to Isaiah 51.1. The whole verse is actually:

Listen to me, you that pursue righteousness,

you that seek the LORD.

Look to the rock from which you were hewn,

and to the quarry from which you were digged.

Well, the importance of Kent School to my formation cannot be overstated. The experience, however, was by no means all positive and fun. Indeed, my third form year—ninth grade or freshman class for those unfamiliar with English boarding school nomenclature—was spent in tears. The best thing that happened was I taught myself to whistle really loudly through my fingers. The second best thing was that I was given a rather strong dose of humility. Having been top dog at my grade school, I figured things would always be that good. Wrong! At Kent I was subjected to harassment and abuse that today would land anybody doing it in court and then jail. The treatment of under-formers was terrible and, thankfully, such traditions are a thing of the past at Kent. And yet, I learned from first-hand experience what it was like to be discriminated against, underfed, and in almost constant fear.

As that first year wore on interminably, I struggled with my studies, made a few friends, and counted the days before going home for the summer…when I would tell my parents that I was not going back.

But, I did go back. It turns out I was invited to try out for the varsity soccer team. Hum. Would I make it? Maybe. Maybe not. But my deep sadness was replaced by an ego boost appropriate to a teenage boy. The only thing that could have been better would have been a letter saying I had been assigned a pretty girl friend.

In my time at Kent—remember this is 1960-1964—the English boarding school traditions from the founding years were still locked in-place. The older boys were in charge of daily life, especially in the dorms; the Masters—we called our teachers Masters—took care of the academics; and everybody had a job. I specialized in washing dishes and when I was a sixth former became a Kitchen Head. You don’t have to think too hard about the rationale for making this move. The kitchen is where the food is. Teenage boys who run and skate and hit baseballs require gargantuan amounts of food. Well, you get the idea.

Fr. Sill was long since dead when I was at Kent. The shadow of his great white habit, however, was everywhere. His objective was to have a school for boys (he died before the girls arrived) of modest means who would have the Church at the center of life, be classically taught, and develop the character to become leaders. The School’s motto was and is: Temperantia ~ Fiducia ~ Constantia.

Temperantia means moderation, self-control, or in Kent’s clipped terminology simplicity of life; Fiducia relates to trustworthiness, confidence, assurance, or for us today self-reliance; and Constantia is constancy, firmness, solidity, or, in Kent-speak, directness of purpose. Simplicity of Life ~ Self-reliance ~ Directness of Purpose.

To accomplish these objectives, Fr. Sill—for right or wrong—created a school that was based on individual tenacity in the midst of community. For my part, I was inspired by the hard-work ethic, although it certainly never paid off in any academic prowess. More to the point, I learned about choices we have in life. One was the choice about whether to lead and succeed through power and position or through servanthood. At Kent, the choice was extremely difficult and confusing, at least for me as a youngster. I want to believe I chose the latter. As such, I shunned the harassment of under-formers and as an adult have sought to be helpful, fair-minded and open.

At the outset, I mentioned that I feel I was educated at Kent. It’s because the foundation pieces of how to be in the world were given to me at Kent. I read the classics—Shakespeare, Melville, T.S. Eliot. Though a terrible Latin student, I studied a lot of Latin and learned how our western world came from that empire. I was introduced to history and the great lessons we can learn from the past. Theology was on the curriculum all four years and we went to church every day and twice on Sunday. And sports… On the soccer pitch, for example, I was taught to work with others and about letting go of something I dearly loved—the ball—for the greater good of the team. Plus, having a daily job meant I was contributing to the community first, even as I was benefiting from the work of others.

In hindsight, it’s not so much that my Kent School education went into my brain as it got infused into the bones of my Soul.

It would have been easy for me to get a job at Mellon Bank, Alcoa, or any number of other major corporations after the Navy. But somehow the notion of servant leadership made greater sense to me. I became a teacher, and the motivation came from my experiences at Kent.

I cannot remember one single sermon from my time at Kent, though I must have heard 250 of them. But I’m sure Fr. Patterson or Fr. Penfield or Fr. Newton or Fr. Labagan or Fr. Costin—we had a lot of priests around—spoke about James and John, the Zebedee boys, wanting to sit next to Jesus “in glory.” I wonder what they said, because I’m equally sure that when the part came up about being a servant of all, I was probably not paying much attention. You see, there have been plenty of times when sitting “in glory” was exactly what I wanted. But, these many years later, I’m convinced that this lesson from Mark’s Gospel and Kent’s teaching about serving first are absolutely vital to a life of faith. My soccer coach, Bob Partridge—he wasn’t a priest but he was a great theologian—encapsulated this concept and my Kent education best as he inspired us in pre-game pep talks. Here’s what he said: “You get as good as you give.” Maybe think about that this week. You get as good as you give.

Amen.