To a child, a mentor’s support is defining

The story is told of Ignace Jan Paderewski, the famous Polish composer-pianist, who was once scheduled to perform at a great American concert hall for a high-society extravaganza. In the audience was a mother with her fidgety 9-year-old son.

Weary of waiting, the boy slipped away from her side, strangely drawn to the Steinway piano on stage. Without many in the audience noticing, he sat down at the stool and began playing chopsticks. The roar of the crowd turned to shouts as hundreds yelled, “Get that boy away from there!”

When Paderewski heard the uproar backstage, he grabbed his coat and rushed over behind the boy. Reaching around him from behind, the master began to improvise a countermelody to the song. As the two of them played together, Paderewski kept whispering in the boy’s ear, “Keep going. Don’t quit, son … don’t stop … don’t stop.”

For the boy, it must have been a defining moment.

I can recall similar occasions of my own, when some older person was willing to look far enough beyond my faults and flaws and foolishness to note my potential.

My parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles were all helpful. But then there was also the total stranger who, one day in a restaurant, sitting in an adjoining booth, asked to see my hand. I was a teenager at the time. He studied my hand for a while, then said slowly, “What long fingers. Perhaps the fingers of a surgeon, someday.”

Doris Grabb, my high school guidance counselor, aware of my aspirations (at that time) to study medicine, autographed my high school yearbook, “To our future M.D.” I don’t know whether she really thought that I had the stuff to become a doctor – but she was willing to err on the side of my benefit. Her words boosted my self-confidence.

By the early 1970s my career aspirations had changed from medicine to ministry. This time it was the Rev. Herman Glick who believed in me. He mentored me. He granted me experience in the pulpit. He and his wife, Mary, prayed for me daily. They still do.

In March 1975, I met Omar Kurtz for the first time. He and Pastor Glick got behind my wife and me, literally – riding with us in the back seat of our small car, affirming and assisting us as we moved to establish our home and ministry in Maine.

When I was ordained in 1979, Omar again traveled to Maine to participate in the service. Over the years, in various ways, he has continued to reach around me, play a countermelody, and whisper, “Keep going. Don’t quit, son.”

Omar was himself ordained to the ministry in 1943. He faithfully served as pastor to a small congregation in Oley, Pa., for 35 years.

I think of him as ruddy-cheeked, wiry, not very tall, and often with a twinkle in his eye. He regularly ate oatmeal for breakfast. When his first wife died in 1990, he waited five years, then married Emily – at age 83.

For 92 years Omar’s walk with God has been straightforward. He has consistently exhibited a simple but profound holiness of character. I’ve heard him pray while on his knees in a way that made me more aware of God’s presence than Omar’s.

From a distance of 600 miles, on typewritten index cards or in beautiful handwriting, he has taught me a great deal. He once signed a letter, “With you.” On another occasion he wrote, “D.V.” I had to look that up in order to learn that it means “Deo Volente” or “God willing.”

His most recent note was dated Jan. 15, 2004. In it he said, “We are fighting the ravages of aging.” He indicated that he had feelings of “nearing the port.” But his concluding words were: “God is merciful and gracious!”

As I read those words I thought, “So have you been to me, Omar – merciful and gracious.” Understanding. Kind. Patient. Wise.

Like God, Omar has always accepted me, flaws and all. Like God, Omar has consistently moved me toward higher ground. Without compromise, this gentle man has imaged the character of the Creator in my life.

I hope that I can do the same for someone else. I hope that you will, too.

Let’s find some poor young misunderstood soul – someone who has probably acted foolishly. Let the crowd roar – we will whisper, “Don’t give up. I’m with you.” We will show God to someone who has likely never before truly understood Him.

The Rev. Daryl E. Witmer is pastor of the Monson Community Church and founder and director of AIIA Institute, a Christian apologetics organization. He may be reached through ChristianAnswers.Net/AIIA or AIIAInstitute@aol.com. Voices is a weekly commentary by five Maine columnists who explore issues affecting spirituality and religious life.