I suspect that most Americans would contend that all sermons must be sectarian or religious in nature. To offer an essay with the title holding that it is a secular sermon might strike those church-goers as an oxymoron. To those of us who treasure secular thoughts, sermons come as easily as to those who hold sectarian beliefs. Secular thoughts are based on logic and reason. A sectarian sermon most likely will be based largely upon faith. When it comes to basing an argument or a sermon on the faith concept, I must admit that I am usually called out on strikes. I might be able to get a foul tip now and then, but in the end a well placed fast ball will blow right by me, and I will be headed back to the bench. So a secular sermon is based upon logic and reasoning, which makes it much easier for me to digest.
The essay that you are reading, called “Duty: A Secular Sermon,” comes about from Father’s Day 2008.
As Father’s Day approached, the two Carr daughters seemed to go out of their way to heap accolades on their father, who is none other than your old essayist. A few days before Father’s Day arrived, the New York contingent consisting of a daughter, her husband, and two sons appeared in this town to take us to dinner. It was a joyous occasion. However, I suspect that my two grandsons conspired to diddle me out of my fair share of the Cabernet Sauvignon wine. But I have forgiven them because they know more about what goes on in the world of sports than I ever knew. But they have the internet and satellite radios, which did not exist when I was wrestling with the problems of puberty.
The Texas contingent, which consists of a daughter, her husband, and three young men ranging from 23 years of age to 10, called on Father’s Day from Boise, Idaho. They were in Idaho to participate in the induction of Senator Larry Craig into the Idaho Hall of Fame. My hope is that the Texas delegation will send me a postcard showing that Senator Craig’s wide stance has been reproduced in a white marble statue. My regret is that I will have to be told about Senator Craig’s stance rather than enjoying it for my own personal amusement and exhilaration.
It goes without saying that I am on excellent terms with my daughters, their husbands, and the five grandchildren. For that I am extremely grateful, not only on Father’s Day but on all the other days of the year as well.
There was an added fillip to my holiday wishes in that I received the following message from Suzanne, the Texas daughter.

To Pop:
Thanks for all those days you got up early and got on the Erie Lackawanna Railroad and came home 11 or 12 hours later, doing things you seldom talked about. I was born and raised on third base and walked into adulthood with a Dartmouth degree and no debt. Thank you, Pop.
Love,
Suzanne

This was only the latest letter of appreciation that I have received from both daughters, particularly when they were attending college. Those messages tended to make me feel much better, because they suggested that perhaps I was carrying out my duty to my children. The lessons must have been well-learned, because the daughters are seeing to it that their children enjoy first-class educations. Nothing could make me more happy than to see that they are carrying out their duty to their children.
It could well be that it was my parents who instilled the sense of duty in their children. For example, when I was six or seven years of age, on a Saturday afternoon I was helping my father at work in our garage. He was a perfectionist who seemed to go out of his way to find the garage doors out of alignment. That afternoon, a young fellow from my father’s place of employment came by to seek my father’s advice. They talked fairly freely in front of me, figuring that at my early age I could not comprehend what was going on. In summary, the young man said to my father that he had gotten his “girlfriend into trouble.” This meant that there was a pregnancy involved. My father, with his second-grade education, did not hesitate in delivering his thoughts on the issue at hand. He said, “Be a man! You have got to marry that girl as quick as you can.” And so I grew up believing that manliness and duty went together.
Twelve or thirteen years later, when this country went to war with the Axis powers, it seemed to me to be clear that my duty was to join the military forces of the American government. To volunteer to serve in the Armed Forces at that time was not as easy as I thought it would be. The Army demanded three letters of recommendation from my former employers as well as a release form signed by my mother because I was only 19 at the time. It took a month or two to get the paperwork done but in the end I was pleased to do my duty and go to war.
Looking back at this late date, I can say openly and honestly that carrying out my duties to my country and to my children has always been a source of happiness to me. I never begrudged the long hours working in New York nor did I ever regret my enlistment in the Army because it seemed to me that I was doing my duty. Granted that I was working from time to time for a few colossal bastards at AT&T and in the Army. That had no bearing on my pride in fulfilling my duty. My children and my country owe me nothing because I was simply doing what my duty demanded.
Now we get to the sticky part of this secular sermon. I have been and remain unhappy with the thought that there are children who are growing up without fathers in the picture. Newspaper accounts tell us that nearly one-third of American children are born out of wedlock. I suspect that many of those children will never know their fathers. All of this is exacerbated by the loss of life in our misbegotten war in Iraq.
On a table in our living room there is a famous photograph taken by a photographer from The Detroit News. It is of a five-year-old boy leaving the church clutching his teddy bear while his mother is comforting his sister a few feet away. Both children have been attending the funeral of their father, a Major in the American Air Force who was lost in the war in Iraq. As the boy clutching his teddy bear walks by the entrance to the cathedral, he passes three portly priests who have their arms clasped in front of their ample bellies. Those three men should have stopped their pious thoughts and reached down to pick up the boy and comfort him. But that was not done. So much for celibacy. In all likelihood, that boy and his sister will face a fatherless future.
Another case comes to mind involving José Reyes, the shortstop for the New York Mets. Shortly after Reyes arrived on the New York scene four years ago, it developed that he had become the father of a child conceived with a New York teenager. Of all things, Reyes actually bragged that he had been visiting his child on one occasion. The New York press has tended to drop this story and we do not know whether Reyes is contributing to the support of this daughter. But the facts are obvious. Reyes has no intention of marrying the mother of this child and that little girl will grow up in a fatherless world. That is another crime against a defenseless human being.
Two other deaths have bothered me recently. Last summer our neighbor, a 55-year-old lawyer, was stricken by a fatal heart attack. He leaves his wife and three daughters, the youngest of whom is 17 and preparing to enter college. Keith Von Glahn was 30 years my junior. It is clear that prognosticators would have predicted that I would have long since been gone and that Keith would survive for quite a while. But that is not the way it has worked out.
Then there was the death last week of Tim Russert, the well-known National Broadcasting Company commentator. Russert had a boy of 22 years who graduated this spring from Boston College. Again the prognosticators would have been wrong in figuring that I would be gone and that Mr. Russert at 27 years my junior would still be alive. But that again is not the way it has worked out.
And so it goes with widows, and children being forced to grow up in a fatherless world. This secular sermon is intended to do something about this dismal situation.
I suspect that every man in his mid-fifties thinks he is indestructible and will live forever. May I offer a case in point, namely myself? My medical records will demonstrate the immutable fact that it just isn’t so. Middle-aged men don’t live forever and their medical problems, the serious ones, start very often with the onset of the mid-fifties.
There are at least one or two ways to deal with unfortunate and ill-timed deaths for men. Those deaths have an impact on the duties that men owe to their widows and to their children. If there are any smokers left in the fifties group, please check the habit and break with it completely. Cutting down in tobacco usage is tantamount to not cutting down on it at all. Avoiding red meat has its own rewards, as those of us of the vegetarian persuasion will attest. Then there are the merits of a complete physical examination with particular attention being devoted to the cardiology profession. And finally, one of the ways to avoid arthritis and to fulfill your duty to your wife and children is a regular exercise program. Playing golf or racquetball or short walks do not constitute an exercise program. I know that many of you are executives who can ill afford to take the time out to exercise. But there are many rewards. For example, it may avoid early widowhood for your wife and a fatherless childhood for your children.
So that is my secular sermon which is devoid of references to the prophets in the Bible. Beyond that, there is no collection plate to be passed following this sermon nor will you be asked to dig down deep in your wallet to support the addition to the church. It comes to you free of charge with the hope that I am doing my duty to prevent early widowhood and fatherless children. If my secular sermon achieves any of those results, I will have a radiant smile until my dying day.
And now, as a postlude to this sermon, I will ask the congregation to stand and sing several verses of that old gospel hymn, “When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder, I’ll Be There.” As you go about your worldly duties, I would appreciate your remembering that it was your old essayist who brought you your first secular sermon. That may be the best way to mark future Father’s Days as they appear on the calendar.
E. E. CARR
June 23, 2008
Essay 322
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Kevin’s commentary: Ah, now see, this essay presents a problem for me. On the one hand, I want to send it to my father for the wisdom contained in the last few paragraphs. On the other, I don’t want my mother to see this one and be reminded of the sweet card she wrote, because then she will probably remember that she received no such card last year on mother’s day. She did get a call, but it was nothing as sweet as what Pop got.
On that note, since when does Mom call Pop “Pop”? I thought that Connor invented that name, so presumably it was sometime between 1985 and now. But when? These are the important questions that I again cannot ask Mom to answer without bringing her here. Dilemmas abound.