By
the time the surgeon finally arrived at the hospital, it was too late.
The child had died only moments before. The other doctor asked the
surgeon to come with him to meet the child’s father in the hope that
together they might offer him words of comfort. As they entered the
waiting room, the father came forward—he was the man in the brown
leather jacket.
It
occurs to me to wonder whether any of us here tonight are, in a
different sense, men in brown leather jackets, who, through our lack of
wisdom, perhaps not knowing it, certainly not wishing it, keep spiritual
help from reaching our children when they need it. Or if we are young,
we are tempted to follow a course that could damage the children that we
will one day have.