ZeBarney Thorne Phillips was born in Springfield to Zerah Barney Phillips and Sallie Sharp Phillips in 1875. His father died only a few years later, and ZeBarney grew up with his mother and three siblings, two sisters who died in middle age and a brother. His mother remarried in 1891 and lived in Springfield until her death in the 1920s. His brother, Thomas, became a dentist and likewise lived in Springfield until his death, in 1950.
ZeBarney studied at Wittenberg in the 1890s and he served as an organist and choirmaster in the area. After ordination to the Episcopal priesthood in 1900, parish work in in Ohio led to assignments at Trinity Church in Chicago (1902-1909), St. Peter鈥檚 in St. Louis (1912-1922), and the Church of the Epiphany in Washington, D.C., (1924-1942).
In 1927 the Chaplain of the U.S. Senate died, and although not among the twenty known candidates, Phillips was appointed by President Coolidge to that position in December.
In those days the Senate Chaplain prayed over the beginning of each 鈥渓egislative day,鈥� which could go on for days or weeks. In 1938, he went for months without praying because the 鈥渓egislative day鈥� begun on January 5th was still going on in April; the Senate changed that rule in early 1939.
Phillips prayed at the opening of the Senate at the beginning of the New Deal in 1933, at President Coolidge鈥檚 funeral in 1933, and at President Roosevelt鈥檚 second inauguration in 1937. As Chaplain he also presided over funerals, such as those of Senators McAdoo, Borah, Robinson and Lewis, as well as over marriages of the famous and-not-so famous.
He officiated at the funeral of his friend, Associate Justice Van Devanter in 1941. Phillips had been with Devanter on a duck hunting trip a few years earlier, when Van Devanter was cited for not having a duck stamp on his hunting license. The Associate Justice indicated he did not know such was required; the matter eventually was reported to the Secretary of Agriculture and the Attorney General.
Phillips served for a time as President of the House of Clerical and Lay Deputies of the Episcopal Church, and his long, prestigious career was capped by appointment as Dean of the Washington Cathedral in November 1941. One of his early actions there was to found the Cathedral Choir.
But in May 1942, he died unexpectedly. Under treatment for kidney stones and a heart condition, he presided, though unwell, at a funeral, and afterward his condition rapidly worsened. He died on May 10th, surrounded by wife and daughters. The cathedral鈥檚 new choir made its debut at his funeral, the largest funeral in the cathedral鈥檚 history up to that time.
Several days later, however, the full story came out: a pharmacist had confused his grams and grains and mixed a fatal dose of medicine that killed the churchman.
We tend to think of opening prayers at civic events as pro forma affairs. But Phillips seems to have struck a chord with listeners. The editor of the Dayton Herald reported that he had got into the habit of glancing at the prayer when reading the Congressional Record:
There was never any bombast in it or demagoguery or buncombe. Rather simply and very sincerely, the chaplain of the United States Senate asked for divine guidance on the upper chamber of the congress. And knowing the Rev. Dr. Phillips only through that daily prayer, we thought he must be a good influence on the nation.
Horace A. Carlisle, with the Senate鈥檚 Office of the Architect, sometimes wrote poems that ended up in the Congressional Record. He wrote one for Phillips that Senator Burton of Ohio added to the Record on May 12th, 1942. The middle stanza reads:
The Nation, in sackcloth and ashes,
Bowed its uncovered head,
In sorrow, as, unseen in flashes
Of news began to spread
That Chaplain Phillips, whose devoted
Life of real Sacrifice
For others, had just been promoted,
For service in the skies.
The Senate subsequently published a volume of his prayers, and his daughter, Sallie Phillips McClenahan, published So Live! in 1950.
About The Project
With Wittenberg now celebrating its 175th year, and the University unable to hold regular in-person classes as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, Professor of History Thomas T. Taylor has started circulating several pieces on Wittenberg's history. Some originated in earlier series, either This Month in Wittenberg History or Happy Birthday Wittenberg. Others have their origin in the Wittenberg History Project or in some other, miscellaneous project. Sincerest thanks to Professor Taylor for connecting alumni, faculty, staff, and students through a historic lens.