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Workshop on Small RE Programs, July 11-17

3 February 2009 at 15:48

As an act of shameless self-promotion, I’m posting the following announcement for a workshop I’ll be leading this sumer. Please pass this along to anyone who might be interested.

Running a small religious education (RE) program can be challenging, but it can also offer unique rewards for children, teens, and adult volunteers. This week-long workshop will help participants unlock the potential of small programs. The workshop is aimed at RE Committee members, Sunday school teachers, concerned parents, DREs, and ministers. The workshop will benefit small churches with small programs, larger churches that run small mixed-age programs (e.g., summer programs, programs during low-attendance worship services), “one-room schoolhouse” programs, and churches that don’t have an RE program right now but want to start one.

Topics to be covered include: working with small mixed-age groups of children, finding curriculum for small programs, working with tiny youth groups, motivating volunteers, finding classroom space, administering your program, marketing on a low budget, and figuring out what to do when your program grows (or shrinks). If you are trying to run a program with between 0 and 25 young people, this workshop will have something for you!

This week-long program will take place from Sat., July 11, through Fri., July 17, as part of Religious Education Week at Ferry Beach Conference Center in Saco, Maine. Visit the Ferry Beach Web site for cost; for the least inexpensive option, you can camp in Ferry Beach’s beautiful campsite and cook your own meals.

Rev. Dan Harper, the workshop leader, knows and loves small RE programs. Dan served as a Director of Religious Education in a small church Sunday school that tripled in size during his tenure. He currently serves as a parish minister in a small church with a growing Sunday school. Dan was also the interim religious educator at the Church of the Larger Fellowship, where he developed resources for tiny church schools and isolated UU families.

Seals

5 February 2009 at 04:04

Carol and I got out for our daily walk a little late today, so we only had time to walk down along the waterfront. Of course we walked out to the end of State Pier to see if we could see any seals.

“Look, there’s one,” said Carol when we were about halfway out the pier.

I didn’t see it. “Where?” I said, and then, “Oh, I see it.”

“No, not that one, there’s another one,” said Carol. There were two seal heads bobbing in the water.

We got out to the end of the pier. “Look, there’s one really close,” I said, pointing down. At about the same time, Carol spotted yet another one. There were more than ten seals swimming around the end of the pier. Three of them were very close.

“You can hear them breathing,” I said.

“Look, there’s a little one,” said Carol. “They’re gamboling, that’s the only word for it.”

One of them looked up at us with its big dark eyes. When it exhaled, it lowered its nose to the surface of the water so that it blew a cloud of water droplets out in front.

We stayed and watched the seals for a good ten minutes, and then it got too cold to stand there any longer. We walked home feeling very satisfied.

Itinerants to Freethinkers: Universalist preaching in New Bedford

7 February 2009 at 02:00

Part one: 1825 to 1875

During the 1820s and 1830s, at least a few itinerant Universalist preachers visited New Bedford. By tradition, Rev. Hosea Ballou, the greatest of the early Universalist theologians and preachers, came to speak in New Bedford c. 1825. In 1831, one William Morse preached a sermon on Universalism in New Bedford titled “On Revival of Religion. A Sermon delivered in New Bedford, April 17, 1831,” which was printed by Benjamin T. Congdon. In 1836, one Abraham Norwood preached Universalism in New Bedford and Fairhaven, with mixed success.

The first settled Universalist preacher was Rev. John Murray Spear, who preached abolitionism along with his Universalism. While he was minister, from 1836 to 1841, the Universalists built a church building on School Street (since demolished, the site is now the parking lot for Pilgrim UCC Church); they also were one of the few Massachusetts churches of any denomination to unequivocally declare their support for abolition. Nathan Johnson, a prominent African American citizen of New Bedford and conductor on the Underground Railroad, became a member of the Universalist Church. Frederick Douglass is known to have visited the church, but only to argue against the doctrine of universal salvation; Spear met Douglass during this visit, and the two men wound up sharing the lecture platform for the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society many times in later years.

In 1841, Spear was hounded out of New Bedford for helping a fugitive slave evade her master. Spears’ biographer John Beuscher writes: “A slave, Lucy Faggins, traveled with the family that owned her to visit New Bedford, which was home to a sizable community of free Negroes. Spear was instrumental in arranging the legal process through which Faggins was able to opt for freedom. For depriving the southern family of their household ‘servant’ Spear was vilified in public as a ‘nigger stealer,’ threatened with legal action, and forced to resign his New Bedford pulpit.”

Following Spear’s sudden departure, Rev. Levi L. Sadler (1806?-1857) served as a supply minister during 1841. Sadler had previously preached in the recently-settled states of Ohio (1833, 1837) and Michigan (1835).

Rev. Thomas Green Farnsworth (1798-1883), sometimes incorrectly listed as “G.T. Farnsworth,” served the Universalist church from 1841 to 1843 [one source says until 1846]. Farnsworth had been apprenticed as a shoemaker in Boston when he converted to the Baptist denomination; one of his fellow apprentices was Thomas Whittemore, and the two later both became Universalist ministers.

Rev. Silas S. Fletcher (1824?-1884) served from 1844-1846 [one source says until 1849]. In 1844, printer Benjamin Lindsey (who was a Unitarian) printed one of Fletcher’s sermons, which was titled, “A Sermon on the Fanaticism of the Present Age in which is Shown Wherein Both the Literary and Religious Past are Responsible, and Wherein Brought to Bear Upon the Fatal Delusion of Millerism: Delivered in the Universalist Church, New Bedford, Mass., October 27th, 1844.”

A Rev. Mr. Waldo served briefly in 1849. Due to financial difficulties, the Universalist church sold its building to the Roman Catholics and dissolved in 1849. But the Universalists of New Bedford re-organized their church, and incorporated as “First Universalist Society of New Bedford” on 15 December 1851.

One Dr. Hatch, a layman, provided preaching at first. The Society called Rev. Hiram Van Campen (1817-1905) as minister in 1851. At this time, the Society was meeting in Sears Hall, near City Hall in downtown New Bedford. Van Campen resigned from his ministry in 1853 to pursue a business career; he remained in New Bedford until his death, serving as clerk of the Universalist church for more than 36 years, and was said to seldom miss Sunday services.

The church called Rev. Benjamin Varney Stevenson (1815-1898) in 1854. Stevenson had worked as a bookbinder, but trained for the ministry under Hosea Ballou 2nd, and was ordained in 1844. In 1855, the church re-incorporated as “First Universalist Church,” and completed a new church building on William Street (still standing, now occupied by the Gallery X artists’ cooperative). The building cost $10,000 (approximately $220,000 in today’s dollars), and it was paid for when it was completed.

Rev. James Johnson Twiss (1820-1891) served the Universalist church from 1857-1859. In 1875, he became a Unitarian minister when he was called to the Chelmsford Unitarian church.

Rev. Thomas Eliot St. John served from 1859 to about 1861. Prior to entering the Universalist ministry, St. John was professor of anatomy and physiology in the Eclectic Medical College, Cincinnati. Rev. Steven Leroy Roripaugh served briefly in 1863 (perhaps into 1864). Roripaugh was well-liked, but suffered from asthma in the New Bedford climate, and had to leave.

Rev. George W. Skinner served for some months in 1865; during the turbulent Civil War era Skinner had been a lieutenant in the 97th Regiment New York State Volunteers in 1862, then was minister in the Gloucester Universalist church until he came to New Bedford.

Rev. Isaac Case Knowlton (1819-1895), stayed with the New Bedford Universalists from 1866 to 1871. Originally a cooper who made lime-casks in Maine, Knowlton studied for the Universalist ministry and was ordained in 1845. He wrote frequently for newspapers and magazines, and wrote the book Through the Shadows in 1885, which explained the Universalism of his day. He was considered an able preacher, although upon his death the Universalist Register commented, “Dr. Knowlton was a man of decidedly marked characteristics, original in thought and utterance, sometimes very quaint in the latter.” Tufts honored him with the Doctor of Divinity degree in 1889. His son Hosea Morrill Knowlton settled in New Bedford, and become the most prominent Universalist in the city.

Rev. Cyrus Baldwin Lombard (1829-after 1896) spent a short nine months in New Bedford in 1871. While minister at the Universalist church in Shirley, Mass., his first wife died (c. 1862); after he left New Bedford he moved to Springfield, Ill., where he re-married. The History of the Town of Shirley notes: “His pulpit talents were creditable, and his voice and graceful delivery commended him as a public teacher of divine truth.”

There was no settled minister in the New Bedford church from 1871 to 1873. Rev. William Rollin Shipman (1836-1908), professor at Tufts University, served as a regular supply preacher. In 1873, the church called Rev. William S. Bell. The following biographical notice of Bell appears in the book Four Hundred Years of Freethought by Samuel Porter Putnam (1894, p. 694):

“William S. Bell was born in Allegheny City, Pa., February 16, 1832. In early manhood he united with the Methodist church and began to preach. In 1858 he graduated from Adrian College, Michigan, and became a preacher in Brooklyn, N. Y. Having outgrown orthodoxy after several years, he applied himself to the study of medicine. In 1872 he went to Harvard Divinity School to prepare for the Liberal ministry. In 1873 he was engaged by the Universalists of New Bedford to supply their pulpit. His sermons, however, were not of ‘the good old-fashioned Universalist style.’ On the last Sunday, December, 1874, he publicly renounced the Christian church. Since then he has been engaged in lecturing before Liberal societies. He has published several books — ‘The Resurrection of Jesus;’ ‘Anti-Prohibition’; ‘An Outline of the French Revolution of 1789,’ and ‘The Hand-Book of Free-thought.'”

Although today no one would blink if a Universalist minister renounced the Christian church, in those days Universalism was definitely a Christian faith. Presumably Bell was dismissed or resigned as minister following his dramatic announcement. Rev. Shipman apparently came back to provide supply preaching again, until the next settled minister could be called….

Documentation: Please see Sources for Universalist History in New Bedford on this Web site.

To be continued…

Liveblogging the Frederick Douglass Readathon

8 February 2009 at 20:02

2: 57 p.m. I’m sitting here in the tenth annual Frederick Douglass Readathon, the annual event sponsored by the New Bedford Historical Society during which the entire text of The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave is read aloud by people from the community. We just heard Barney Frank, our congressman, read; and Scott Lang, the mayor of New Bedford; and right now Carl Cruz is reading — Carl is a local historian who knows more about the history of people of color in New Bedford than anyone else that I’m aware of. Now Carl has finished, and a boy, about nine years old and wearing a pink shirt and a red tie, is reading a passage from Frederick Douglass’s childhood memories.

Right now there are about sixty or seventy people here. As you’d expect, the people who come to this are of a variety of skin colors — black and white and brown. This is a distinct contrast to the Moby-Dick readathon which takes place in New Bedford in January, and which draws a predominantly white audience. I like the fact that there are quite a few young people here — mostly children and pre-teens, but a few teenagers as well.

But the best part of this year’s Frederick Douglass Readathon for me is that it is being held here in First Unitarian. I got to welcome people here on behalf of the congregation, which was fun. And it’s great fun to have one of my favorite pieces of American non-fiction read aloud here.

4:40 p.m. The Readathon has gotten almost to the end of Chapter IX. I’ve read my section of the Narrative, the first third of Chapter VIII. The afternoon is darkening into evening, and we’re down to about thirty people now; which is too bad, because this is where the book gets most interesting; and we’ve had a good run of very good readers.

5:46 p.m. Frederick Douglass has just failed in his first escape attempt; and now has been discovered. It is a dramatic moment, and the person reading this passage is doing it just right: not reading dramatically, but in a deliberate and straightforward manner.

6:13 p.m. “…on the third day of September, 1838, I left my chains, and succeeded in reaching New York without the slightest interruption of any kind….”

America

10 February 2009 at 03:45

We were out for a late night walk. I happened to look up at one of the downtown bank buildings that is occupied by a branch of one of this country’s biggest banks. “Look at that!” I said to Carol.

Five stories above the street, the internally-lit sign on the bank building said, “Ban America.”

We both marveled at it.

“You almost wonder if it was intentional,” said Carol. “It’s just too perfect.”

 

Winter walk

11 February 2009 at 02:53

The warm spell over the weekend melted most of the snow and ice. That meant the sidewalks were mostly clear, so today Carol and I walked all the way to Fairhaven center and back — a good four miles round trip, and the longest walk we’ve been able to take since December. Although the sun wasn’t out it was a mild day, with temperatures in the low forties and very little wind. We walked, and as we walked we talked about our family and friends, and our jobs, and local politics. When we were almost back home, Carol looked up at the cloudy sky and said, “It’s one of those timeless days, isn’t it?” We could have kept walking and talking for another couple of hours, except that we both had to get back to work.

Historic hymnal online

12 February 2009 at 02:20

The 1898 hymnal printed for First Unitarian Church in New Bedford (then called First Congregational Society of New Bedford) is online at Google Books. It’s a slightly modified version of the Harvard University hymnal of that era.

"Universalism in Death"

12 February 2009 at 02:40

Rev. John Murray Spear, the Universalist minister in New Bedford from 1837-1841, publicized the following anecdote (which I found in an online edition of the Universalist Union on Google Books). The Universalist Union for Saturday, December 26, 1840, reported:

“UNIVERSALISM IN DEATH. Br. J. M. Spear, of New Bedford, Mass, notices through the Trumpet, a striking instance of the power of Universalism in death. It was in the person of a Miss Matilda Alden, who died in New Bedford, on the 1st inst. She was in the morning of life — but 22 years of age. At the early age of 15, she joined the Christian society in that place. — Soon after she went to reside with an uncle in Boston. The Sunday before the old Murray meeting house, Br. Streeter’s, was removed to give place to a new house, a year or two since, she heard Br. Streeter pray, which so operated upon her mind that she rested not till she was able to see Christ as the Savior of all. Two years since she was thrown from a carriage and received injuries from which she never recovered, but has lingered, enduring severe pains, till her death as above noted. But she has borne it all with unexampled patience, and died ‘rejoicing in the hope of meeting a ransomed world in the regions of immortal blessedness.’ Br. Spear closes his letter as follows :

“‘The Sunday before she died, I observed to her that it was frequently said that Universalists always renounced their faith on a dying bed. She replied, “I have not a doubt that I shall meet the whole world in peace. I love every body, and my heavenly Father loves them better than I do.” About an hour before she breathed her last, I asked her if her faith remained unchanged? She signified her assent. She was then unable to speak. Afterwards she distinctly said, pointing to her friends who stood weeping around her, “I shall not come back to you, but you will all, all, all come to me.” Indeed, my brother, when standing by her bed-side, I could truly say, “It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of feasting.” It is “my heart’s desire and prayer to God” that when I leave this world, I may die like Matilda, and that my last end may be like her’s [sic].’  ”

More New Bedford Universalist laypeople…

Walk

12 February 2009 at 20:15

I was headed out for a walk — trying to fit in a little exercise in a very busy day — when I heard someone shout, “Dan! Is that you?” I turned around, and there was L——, standing on the sidewalk. It turns out his business is just a couple of blocks from our apartment, and we had never made the connection. We wound up talking about the kinds of things two New Englanders talk about on a grey February afternoon: ancestors (he’s a Meriam, and my brother-in-law is a Meriam), old cars, the Revolution, politics, antiques we almost bought but didn’t have money for at the time, eccentric characters we have known, New England history. Three quarters of an hour later, I realized I had better go if I were going to have any time at all for a walk. And we hadn’t even spent any time talking about Concord, where I grew up and his people come from. There’s never enough time to talk about everything you want to talk about.

"Don't be afraid of being thought ultra abstemious/"

14 February 2009 at 02:41

Here’s another mention of Rev. John Murray Spear, the Universalist minister in New Bedford from 1837-1841, in the old Universalist Union, this time from the number for Saturday, April 17, 1841:

We have another letter from our friend “J. C.” of Lebanon. He makes war, without mercy, upon tea and coffee, though we are not prepared to say, without considerable justice. They are no doubt highly pernicious to many constitutions, and injurious to all, when used to excess, as in all other things. But it is very difficult obtaining pledges to a total abstinence from these indulgences. Let those afflicted, however, as Br. Clark has been, try his remedy. It is a simple and cheap prescription.

  [J. C. writes:]

Br. Price — As you saw fit to publish what I wrote you in February last, and having received a letter from Br. J. M. Spear, of New Bedford, who, ascertaining that I have been afflicted with the nervous headache, has very kindly, and in the spirit of true brotherhood, proposed a remedy for that disease, with a request that I should try it, and if it proved salutary to me, let the readers of the Messenger know its character and effects, and thus induce others to come up to the cause of temperance, I am now induced to try my hand in writing you once more.

And, first, I wish to render thanks to our kind brother for the interest he has manifested in my temporal welfare, and assure him that I cordially reciprocate fellow feeling and good will toward him and his; and as he intimates I do not belong to “stand still Universalists,” you may assure him he is right. No, Br. Price, there is too much my hand finds to do in the moral reformation of the world, to allow me to fold my arms, and see the tide of sin and corruption roll rapidly along, and not use any effort to stay its desolating march. Intemperance in the use of ardent spirit, is not the only evil we have to encounter. There are other articles commonly used in our most respectable families, whose influence, though not so deadly hostile to morality and religion, are deleterious to the health and happiness of the rising generation. The use of tea and coffee as a common beverage is fast gaining ground, and if not retarded, will shorten the lives and usefulness of thousands.

Perhaps my readers begin to start, and call me a te-totaler. Well, I can’t help that; truth is truth, and should be told, “whether men will hear, or whether they will forbear.” And as those who have heretofore gone forward as pioneers, in whatever reformation has been brought about, either in science, politics, or religion, have been branded as empyrics, knaves, heretics, infidels, and so on; if I should meet the same fate I ought not to complain. No; nor should I by these means, be deterred from doing what my conscience tells me is duty, through fear of reproach.

Lest I weary the patience of the reader, with a long story about a short thing, I will go directly to my purpose, which is to tell what will cure the nervous headache. And this I wish to do in the language of Br. Spear, who says it has cured him, and given him perfect soundess. He says:

“It is a simple abstinence from narcotics. Among these I name tea and coffee. If you would be delivered from nervous headache, and all nervous diseases, abstain from these drinks entirely. If you love them, you must deny yourself, and ‘take up your cross.’ Try the experiment faithfully, and at the end of three months you will be delivered from this bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of a clear head and sound mind. At first, the disease will seize you with greater power, and will hold on perhaps as long as the prophet was in the belly of the fish; but if you persevere, you will come off more than conqueror. You will ask what I drink?” and he answers, “warm water and milk, morning and evening, and cold water at noon.”

Now Br. Price, what is above recommended, is just the course I have adopted, and is, I think, the reason why I am able to write this (as some may term it foolish) essay. It is now about three months since I commenced, and I fondly hope to be able to read, not only the “Messenger,” but much other good matter, that is published at the present time, and above all, the Bible, our only chart to the haven of eternal life.

Others in this vicinity have tried the remedy with success, and I earnestly recommend others, troubled with nervous difficulties, to “go and do likewise.” — Don’t be afraid of being thought ultra abstemious, but come up to the good work of reformation. Don’t be afraid of appearing singular. It was once thought not genteel to do without ardent sprrits. Now, he who should think to treat a company of ladies and gentlemen with the “good crittur,” would bethought hardly civil. Up! up! ye nervous, lame-sided, weak-stomached! — ye who have feeble limbs, distressed backs, weak and painful heads, disorganized systems, and all ye feeble train! up to the rescue! Why will ye die?

J. C.
Lebanon, Conn., March, 1841.

I forgot

15 February 2009 at 03:12

Even thought Carol reminded me, I forgot Valentine’s Day. Since I am not a poet, there will be no poem, just this blog post: This is just to say I’m sorry I forgot.

California

15 February 2009 at 05:14

We are enjoying what I consider to be perfect California weather on our vacation: mostly cloudy, mixed with rain showers, with the occasional touch of blue sky. Everything is green, the fruit trees are in bloom, the daffodils are blooming. I overheard someone today talk about how cold it is, and thought about New Bedford where the water temperature in the harbor is the thirties and when you walk down by the waterfront the damp cold gets into your bones.

We took a long walk this afternoon, and in one place an orange tree hung over the sidewalk, with dozens of ripe oranges in the glossy green leaves. Carol reached up and picked one, and peeled it open, and the smell of orange faintly perfumed the air around us as we walked. “Mm,” she said, “it’s so sweet.”

And in the middle of all this, I’m reading Anthony Trollope’s novel Can You Forgive Her? with its long gentle conversations that slowly reveal the personalities of the characters — the pride of Alice, the passionate nature of Lady Glencora, the dissipation of George. Trollope’s finely honed moral distinctions cause me to pause periodically, put the book down, and think through the little moral decisions that the characters make. Its slow pace makes it a perfect book for reading on vacation.

Rain

16 February 2009 at 04:29

The rain came down all day long and into the night. Sometimes it just sprinkled, sometimes it rained hard, but it kept on raining. It was wet and cold all day. We didn’t care. We are on vacation and in San Francisco. As we walked up Columbus Avenue towards Chinatown for dinner, Carol looked at me and said, “This is incredible. Can you believe we didn’t come back here before this?”

When you are here, you can’t forget that San Francisco is a Pacific Rim city. New York City’s Chinatown looks like an immigrant enclave, but Chinatown in San Francisco is as much a part of the city as any other neighborhood. We walked along, dodging other people’s umbrellas, looking at the foodstuffs for sale along the sidewalks and in shop windows: fruits and vegetables piled up in bins, carcasses of cooked birds hanging in windows, a tub full of entrails and sweetmeats. Pastries were neatly arranged in the windows of bakeries. Fish swam in tanks waiting to be sold.

I have never ridden on a cable car, because I have always been unwilling to wait in line and cram myself on with all the tourists. As we walked back to our hotel tonight, a cable car swept past us, splashing through a puddle. The car was empty except for the conductor and the operator. It looked cold, bleak, dark, and unromantic. I was not tempted to ride it even if it were empty of tourists.

Music in twelve parts

17 February 2009 at 04:37

Carol and I arrived at Davies Symphony Hall. The Philip Glass Ensemble walked onstage at five o’clock and started playing.

1.
oceans fluid seas

2.
The singer stops singing, hurriedly takes a drink of water from the bottle beside her chair, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, pauses just a moment, looks at the music, and begins singing again.

3.
clouds burst of rain sho–
EMTs walk quietly in one of the side doors that lead to the seats just behind the stage. They walk back and forth, someone comes out to meet them.
I lose track of the music for awhile. Eventually one of them pushes someone out in a wheelchair, the others carrying their kit bags quietly trooping along behind.
–wers sunburst through clouds

4.
stone ziggurats
stretching out in time
The man across the aisle from me holds a book, Acoustic Cultures, down in the dim light that lights the stairs, and reads from it.

5.
The abstract perfection of the music runs into humanity: a keyboard player has to shake out his hand, a singer has to breathe while repeating a phrase again and again, a saxophonist pushes back in his chair and drops a phrase. But the amplification — microphones, speakers, circuits — helps to obscure humanity.

6.
hot smoggy day and
rivulets of sweat
running down my spine

Dinner break. Carol’s cold is worse, so she heads home. The man across the aisle from me says: “I’ve been listening to Philip Glass for years.” He heard Einstein on the Beach early on, and before that he heard Glass’s music played in New York lofts. “This is loft music. People went to these loft concerts, they didn’t know what they were hearing. Half of them were stoned.” The ensemble comes back onstage to lusty applause. The singer is now wearing a pink dress instead of a blue dress. “Rock and roll!” calls out the main across the aisle from me.

7.
endless mountains
stretching to
green horizons

8.
modular music:
philip glass nods his head and
a new module starts

9.
The unfortunate thing about amplified music is that, because it comes from only a few essentially identical speaker cones in close proximity to one another — instead of from fleshy vocal chords, lips pursed against metal, warm air blowing past vibrating reeds, spread out among seven performers — the sound has a homogeneity that (in my imagination at least) causes it to occasionally collect in odd corners of the room and create unfortunate resonances.

10.
three saxophones and
three electric keyboards and
one sound technician

11.
Such a relief when the human voice re-enters the music.

12.
people don’t always
do what you want them to do.

The music ended at promptly at ten. I walked out through the tumultuous applause. By 10:09 I was sitting on the number 47 bus headed down Van Ness.

From Telegraph Hill

18 February 2009 at 02:46

Yerba Buena Island and Treasure Island in the distance, as we saw them through light rain and mist from the top of Telegraph Hill in San Francisco this afternoon.

Score card

19 February 2009 at 05:51

Bookstore score card for the day:
— Three bookstores in three cities (Berkeley, Oakland, San Francisco).
— Three books (Chuang Tzu, Ch’ing dynasty memoir, 19th C. English novel).
— One bumpersticker reading “HOWL if you [heart] City Lights Books”.

What a great vacation.

Sunny and warm

19 February 2009 at 17:27

Most of the week we have been here in San Francisco, it has been quite cool, and it has rained most days. This is our last morning here, and of course today it is warmer and sunny. Isn’t that always the way….

Spring watch

21 February 2009 at 03:07

Down on State Pier this afternoon, the Herring Gulls were strutting around as usual, looking to steal food from one another, or from another bird. They were looking particularly bright and cheerful today, and I finally realized why: almost all of the adults have finished molting, and they are now resplendent in their breeding season plumage.

This can only mean that breeding season is coming soon, or has already started. Because the rooftops of downtown New Bedford are the site of a Herring Gull nesting colony, this means we will soon have to listen as the Herring Gulls scream and squawk their love songs to one another on the roof of our building. I am not looking forward to Herring Gull nesting season.

Peace aesthetic

22 February 2009 at 03:20

So Carol and I just got back from a vacation in San Francisco, and on our last day there we happened across an outdoor marketplace down the the end of Market Street, right where lots of tourists would walk through. There were people sitting at tables selling the usual things you find at such marketplaces:– colorful scarves, bad watercolor paintings, funky jewelry, good acrylic paintings, carved wooden tchotchkes, and so on.

At one table sat a youngish woman with uncombed brown hair wearing a drab green hooded sweatshirt. She was selling t-shirts with peace signs on them. The t-shirts were exactly the colors you would expect, deep purple and various earth colors. It’s exactly the sort of thing a tourist might buy and wear back home while bragging “I got this cool t-shirt from this funky woman in San Francisco. Cool, huh?” It’s exactly the kind of shirt that screams Hippy-Peacenik-Wannabe.

I think it’s time the grand concept of peace got re-branded with a new aesthetic that better reflects its universality and its high aspirations. Or maybe it would be better if peace didn’t have a brand. Can’t we just dump the drab colors, the hemp t-shirts, and yes maybe even the venerable peace sign, altogether?

Pretty please?… I’ll be nice to you if you say “yes”…

Posted in a slightly different form on PaxPac.

A second half-century of Universalist preaching in New Bedford: 1875-1825

23 February 2009 at 02:52

Part one, 1825-1875.

After William Bell preached his sermon excoriating Christianity in December, 1874, First Universalist Church in New Bedford called an experienced minister. Rev. Jeremy Hoadly Farnsworth had been a Universalist minister for 30 years when he arrived in New Bedford, having served congregations in Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Jersey, Maine, Rhode Island, Virginia, and Iowa. He supported various reform movements, including temperance, women’s rights, and peace; before becoming a minister, he had worked in a cotton mill, and he was said to support workers’ rights. His obituary in the 1900 edition of the Universalist Register stated: “His home was happy. His churches peaceful and prosperous”; but there was no mention of the quality of his preaching.

Farnsworth was followed by Rev. William Curtis Stiles, who preached from 1878 to 1880. After the Pocasset Tragedy of 1879, where two parents murdered their child in an act of religious fanaticism while trying to re-enact the Biblical story of Abraham and Isaac, Stiles had a brief moment of fame. His sermon on the subject was published in a booklet titled History of the Pocasset Tragedy, with Three Sermons Preached in New Bedford. One of the other sermons was by William Potter, the older and better-known minister of the Unitarian church in New Bedford.

After having served two years as the Universalist minister in New Bedford, Stiles renounced Universalism; he was converted to orthodox Congregationalism by Rev. A. H. Heath, the minister of the North Congregational Church. Stiles left New Bedford to become the pastor of the East End Congregational Church in Brooklyn. Stiles apparently left some turmoil behind him in the Universalist church, for the church did not call a new settled minister for two years. During that time, Rev. Charles Rockwell Tenney, the minister of the Mattapoisett Universalist church, traveled each week to New Bedford as a supply preacher.

Finally, the church called Rev. Dr. George Truesdale Flanders in 1882. Born in 1820, Flanders became a Universalist preacher at age 18, and first preached in the frontier towns of Ohio before coming east. His obituary in the 1898 Universalist Register reports: “There were marked peculiarities in Dr. Flanders’ temperament and disposition, but a warm, earnest heart was manifest to all who truly knew him and by them he was held in high esteem and honor.” Flanders wrote extensively for Universalist periodicals; he also wrote many hymns, and an autobiography titled, Life’s Problems, Here and Hereafter. At the end of his autobiography, he wrote: “I am at rest. My faith has made me whole. The incidents of this mortal life have for me no terror. Old age has no terror. Death has no terror. I now know that the present, every moment of it, is under the superintendence of an all-wise Father, even to the minutest particular; and the future stretches out into inconceivable realms of light and joy….”

After ten years, Flanders moved on to the Universalist church in Rockport, Mass., and the church called Rev. William Frank Potter in 1892. Potter’s obituary ran in the 1911 edition of the Unitarian Year Book, and had little to say about the man aside from the fact that he “had a rare quality of making friends.” After his departure c. 1897, the church had no minister until 1900.

Oliver Howard Perkins was ordained by First Universalist Church of New Bedford in October, 1900, at age 33; he had previously worked as a schoolteacher. Perkins was a close associate of Rev. Dr. Quillen Hamilton Shinn in founding of Ferry Beach Park Association, the Universalist retreat center in Saco, Maine. Perkins was remembered as having an exceptionally fine character: “Mr. Perkins was tall, nearly six feet, slight of frame, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He was sincere, courteous, helpful, universally kind, and very much a gentleman. He had an innate goodness greatly noticeable by all who met him and a delightful sense of humor….” He left New Bedford in 1907, and died only three years later.

I find it significant that the Universalist ministers of this era were remembered for their personal character, but not for the character of their preaching. Even Howard Perkins, a close associate of Quillen Shinn, one of the great Universalist preachers of all time, was not renowned as a preacher.

Rev. George H. Howes was called by the church in 1907, having been ordained the year before. He left in 1910, and he is probably the same George H. Howes who took charge of North Unitarian Church in New Bedford in that year; North Unitarian Church was a Unitarian mission to immigrants living in the North End of the city.

Next, the church called Rev. Howard Charles Gale to their pulpit in 1911. Raised a Universalist in Haverhill, Mass., Gale’s first full-time pastorate was as the Universalist minister in Upham’s Corner, Dorchester, from 1908-1911. In Dorchester, he was an advocate of using a Universalist prayer-book liturgy; thus, Gale seems to have placed less emphasis on preaching than on the rest of the worship service. Although I can learn nothing about his preaching, he was very energetic in New Bedford: he carried out his ministerial duties, retired a large debt held by the church, served in many community organizations, and was active with the Masons. In his autobiography he wrote, “The demands on my time and my numerous public activities, together with the demands of the parish, made for over-crowded days and an altogether too hectic life.”

Gale had a somewhat eccentric career after leaving New Bedford. He was minister of the Unitarian church in Peabody, Mass., from 1926 until 1945. In addition, he received his M.D. in 1926 from Middlesex Medical College (later absorbed into Brandeis University) and began to practice medicine on the North Shore. On top of that, he was a college professor, most notably at Endicott Junior College. For more than two decades, from 1926 on, he pursued these three careers simultaneously. His autobiography, self-published in 1969, was titled My Triple Life.

As it happens, I have a personal connection with Dr. Gale. My mother was a teenager in the Peabody Unitarian church, and always talked about how much he influenced her. However, she never talked about the fact that he left Unitarianism and became an Episcopal priest in 1951.

Gale was succeeded by Rev. Frederick Algernon Wilmot in 1917. Wilmot was another Universalist minister deeply involved in community affairs. He served as assistant chairman of Liberty Loans, and founded both the New Bedford Forum and the New Bedford School of Dramatic Arts. He was also a Reserve Chaplain in the U.S. military during 1918.

Both Gale and Wilmot mark a distinct change from earlier Universalist ministers. Known neither for their preaching nor for their characters, they were known for their energy and their work in the community. By the 1920s, the grand days of Universalist preaching had passed away, and a new model for Universalist ministry had emerged. I wonder what Hosea Ballou would have made of the changes in his beloved denomination.

Sources of Universalist preaching in New Bedford

Spring watch

25 February 2009 at 03:42

It was chilly and windy this afternoon, and I was feeling sorry for myself. It’s still winter, and it will probably snow again. The produce in the supermarkets has been limp and tasteless, as it always is at this time of year. The whole city has that sad, sorry look that New England cities get in midwinter, when unidentifiable trash has been blown into every corner where it will remain until spring when we finally get the energy to clean it up. The only good thing about February is that it is shorter than all the other months.

But then at four o’clock I went outside to take a walk, and the sun was brightly shining, and I realized that two months ago it would have been dark already at four o’clock. The days are getting longer very quickly, and the first day of spring is less than a month away.

I had a lunch meeting today at the Unita...

26 February 2009 at 03:09

I had a lunch meeting today at the Unitarian Universalist church in Fairhaven, and since it’s only two miles away I decided to walk. Just as I was setting out, I happened to run into Carol, and asked if she wanted to walk over with me. We talked the whole way, about people we know, about our work, about local politics. The walk seemed to go very quickly, and before I knew it we were in front of the Fairhaven church and we had to stop talking for the moment. Carol walked back home, and I walked into the meeting. After my meeting was over, I walked back home. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful late winter day and I noticed things I didn’t notice on the walk over: the skim of ice on sheltered parts of the harbor because the water is still freezing cold even if the air temperature was above freezing; the bright new gray-and-white plumage of the Ring-billed Gulls; , but this time the walk seemed to take much longer than it did while I was talking with Carol.

Unitarian minister fired for promoting basketball (1922)

27 February 2009 at 00:48

When you do research in local history, sometimes you turn up fascinating little local dramas. Like the newspaper story I found today about Unitarian minister Samuel L. Elberfeld, who lost his job in part because he coached a church basketball team for teenagers. This is a story that appeared on the front page of the New Bedford Standard for 18 November 1922, above the fold.

Sports fans will have fun reading how Elberfeld believed sports and religion could not be separated — and they will have less fun reading how he got fired for so believing. Aficionados of dirty church politics will revel in the stratagems used by church members to promote minority rule. Church polity geeks will want to puzzle out the complicated matter of why a church rooted in congregational polity would ever delegate responsibility of firing their minister to another church (quick answer — that other church provided the money to pay the minister’s salary).

Journalism fans will notice how the reporter uses “it is said” instead of directly quoting someone, or attributing facts or opinions to an actual person — a delightful use of the passive voice to promote innuendo — but this was a different era of journalism, with different standards. Note too how a daily city newspaper chose to report such a story on the front page — for it is exactly the kind of juicy rumor-laden story that we all love to read in local newspapers, notwithstanding the obvious pain this particular story caused to Samuel Elberfedl, as revealed in his quoted remarks in the story; and no doubt the article was also very painful to members of the congregation. Which is why newspapers stopped carrying stories like this one, and which why we now read blogs, because the newspapers have gotten so boring.

So here is the story, blazing headlines and all (with an epilogue at the end telling what happened afterwards):

26 VOTED FOR
   DISMISSAL OF
      MR. ELBERFELD

Meeting Held in Unity Home
   Last Evening Acts
      Against Pastor

ONLY 36 PRESENT
      OF 135 MEMBERS

Final Action in North Unita-
   rian Church Up to
      Center Committee

At a meeting of members of the North Unitarian Church held in Unity Home, Tallman street, last night, a vote was taken on the dismissal of the Rev. Samuel L. Elberfeld, pastor of the church. There were 36 members present, and the voted was 26 for dismissal, and three for his retention. There were seven blanks cast.

According to previous announcements, the meeting was called for the purpose of discussing the future policy of the church, bearing on the question of whether the social and athletic activities are to be carried on as extensively as they are at present, or whether they are to be made subservient to the work of the church proper.

The meeting resolved itself into a discussion of the dismissal of the pastor. The vote it is said did not represent the sentiment of the full church body for the reason that there are at least 125 accredited members of the parish, and that our of this number only 36 were present. Of the 36 who attended, it was pointed out that the majority was entirely out of sympathy with the pastor. Members of this majority, it is said, were the instigators in the removal proceedings that were first brought to light as a result of a meeting a week ago. It

(Continued on Page 2.)

CHURCHES TODAY MUST RECOGNIZE
   ACTIVE SIDE OF YOUNG PEOPLE
Otherwise It Will Be Met Outside Says Rev.
   Samuel L. Elberfeld — Has Interested Him-
   self Largely in Social and Athletic Activities
   — Sunday School Shows Steady Increase

Continued from Page One.

was said that those who are favorable toward the pastor failed to attend the meeting.

Not Informed.

After the vote was taken, is was agreed by the members of the parish not to give the results to the newspapers until Mr. Elberfeld had been informed of the action taken at the meeting.

When seen by a Standard reporter this morning, Mr. Elberfeld said that he had not received notice of the results of last night’s meeting. He was then told what had been done.

Mr. Elberfeld said, “All I can say is that my work has been successful. I have not been a failure.” He then said that he wanted to remain noncommittal. “I think you had better not ask me questions,” he suggested, adding, “It is bothering me too much.”

A committee was appointed last night to confer with the committee of the First Congregational Society (Unitarian) to learn the attitude of this committee regarding the vote on the dismissal of Mr. Elberfeld, and to ascertain what future steps should be taken.

The power of removing Mr. Elberfeld is vested in this committee, which is appointed to have supervision of the work at North Unitarian Church.

Was in Boston.

The First Congregational Society committee consists of Thomas C. Knowles, chairman; Miss Emily Hussey, Miss Mabel hutchinson, Miss Augusta Thornton, and Miss Cecile Covell. Mr. Knowles, the chairman, was in Boston today, and his views as to what action may be taken by his committee could not be learned.

The difficulties involving the pastor, it was learned, were brought about by a certain faction who charged he was more interested in and giving more of his time to the development of the Sunday school, the Women’s club and the social and athletic activities, than to the work of the church proper.

This feeling was the occasion of a meeting of the parishioners which was held in Unity Home [the building owned by First Congregational Society (Unitarian) and built as a mission to poor immigrants, and used by North Unitarian Church] Friday night, Nov. 17, at which the future policy of the church was discussed and at which references were made about the pastor that involved his future. At the time it was said that the question of the pastor was not discussed, but it developed that the meeting was merely a preliminary to bring up the question of his dismissal.

Mr. Elberfeld has been connected with the North Unitarian church for more than three years.

———

“There is one thing the churches today must recognize. That is, the active side of the young people’s life must be taken care of. If the churches don’t meet it, it will be met outside.”

In these words Rev. Samuel Elberfeld, pastor of the North Unitarian Church, today struck the keynote of his work in that parish. Mr. Elberfeld had consented to explain for the Standard readers the theories in the working out of which he has made many friends in the north end [of New Bedford] — and in the light of last night’s meeting of some of his parishioners, an active group of enemies.

Not an athlete himself but nevertheless deeply interested in sport, Mr. Elberfeld has as his sole outside activity the Church Basketball and Baseball Leagues. The former he has been president of for three seasons and was one of the framers of its constitution. He was largely instrumental in having included in the league’s rules a provision that a boy must be a regular attendant of church or Sunday school in order to represent that church in the league games.

Willing and Tireless Worker.

He is also president of the baseball league and was responsible for its organization last spring. A willing and tireless worker, his associates have found him always ready to draw on his small reserves of spare time to promote and maintain athletics for the boys who are faithful attendants of church or Sunday school.

Mr. Elberfeld came to the North Unitarian Church in 1918 and the first night he attended a Boy Scout meeting at Unity Home he found six boys out on the floor.

He is Scoutmaster of Troop 7 now, an organization which has at its weekly meetings about 40 boys from all sections of the North End. “We draw our Scouts from all over the North End — Baylies Square, Belleville avenue and some from the church school. Some of the brightest and best Scouts in the troop are from Belleville avenue,” Mr. Elberfeld said.

Mr. Elberfeld is a great believer in the disciplinary possibilities of basketball. So much so that every boys’ and girls’ club at the Unity Home plays the game. [N.B.: Unity Home had a gymnasium in its building.]

Must Back Up Services.

“We’re finding out,” he said, “that we must back up the Sunday services with some other interest. I have found the discipline of the basketball floor to have worked will. You can see it in the boys. When a boy is out on the floor the referee is his critic and the crowd on the sidelines sees his every move. If he can stand up under the official’s correction, the comment of the spectators and take everything in good part he’s bound to amount to something.”

That probably explains why included in the activities of the Unity Club (the girl’s society), the Unity Home Juniors, a group of boys from 12 to 16 years old, and the Young Men’s Club, are a few minutes of basketball each meeting night.

This is not without its result either. The first season of the Church Basketball League, the Unity Home team was runner-up to the championship Trinitarian five, losing the deciding game by one point. Last year the team went through the season and again this season will be among the members of the league. Last summer the Unity Home was one of the first to enter the new Church Baseball League.

Summing up his efforts along these lines, Mr. Elberfeld said, “Without neglecting the intellectual and spiritual side of church life I have emphasized the social and athletic activities, I believe with success. A proof of this is the steady increase in the size of my Sunday School.”

———

So ends the newspaper article. And now for the rest of the story….

Elberfeld of course was forced to resign, and left in March, 1923. In the negotiations leading up to his resignation, Elberfeld pointed out that North Unitarian Church had gone through nine ministers in the previous twelve years — not a record the church could be proud of. Within a year of Elberfeld’s departure, the church had given up their church charter; North Unitarian Church went out of existence, and Unity Home was once more entirely controlled by First Congregational Society (Unitarian). From then until 1940, Unity Home was little more than a Sunday school and social service agency.

As for Elberfeld, he went on to become the minister of the Unitarian church in East Boston, where he enjoyed a happy and productive pastorate of many years.

Moral of the story? Maybe it’s this simple: Churches that outlaw basketball go out of business.

Adventures with "Big Bertha"

28 February 2009 at 03:34

When I was a year out of college, I bought my parent’s old ’78 Chevy Impala station wagon, a huge green boat of a car with a 305 small block V8 engine. My mother, who liked to name cars, called it “Big Bertha,” or “Bert” for short; when she didn’t like the car she called it “The Big Green Monster.” I think it was the biggest car she ever drove. I don’t think she ever liked it much, but I was happy to buy it, because it was the only car I could afford.

I bought it in the summer of 1984 and drove it down to Philadelphia where I had been living. I loaded everything I owned into the back, and started driving home. I was on the northeast extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike when the tractor-trailer rig in front of me blew a retread off one of its eighteen wheels. All I saw was this huge black writhing piece of rubber flying down the highway directly at me and, Wham! it hit the underside of the car, and suddenly the muffler was dragging on the highway and making a horrible noise. I limped along to the next exit, pulled into a gas station and was told they couldn’t fix the car until the next day. I must have looked pretty sick — I didn’t have the money to stay in a motel — so this friendly guy went out, crawled under the car with me, and showed me how to wire the muffler up so I could drive the rest of the way home.

I had been unable to find a job in Philly, but within a month of moving back to Massachusetts I had several job offers. I went to work full time at the lumberyard where I had worked summers, and pretty soon took a room in a shared house that was close enough to the lumberyard that I could walk to work. The big green station wagon sat in the driveway most of the week; by now it had rust spots showing through the green paint. Once or twice a week, I would drive it in to the Boston Museum School to take art classes. At first I was terrified to drive into Boston in rush hour traffic, but I soon learned that other drivers were wary of a huge green rusty station wagon driven by a long-haired, wild-eyed kid. Then one night after class, I walked out to where I had parked the car along the Fenway, and it was gone — stolen. I went back into the school (this was before cell phones, remember) and called the Boston police, who told me that the Fenway was covered by Metropolitan District Commission Police; I called them and they told me I would have to appear in person at their station up near the Charles River dam. So I walked all the way up there, and the cop on duty, being a Boston cop, was rude and unhelpful and did everything he could to keep from having to write up a report of the theft. At last he wrote it up, and I managed to catch the midnight train from North Station back home. Two days later, the cops called me at work: they had found the car where it had been abandoned by some joyriders. I went in to pick up the car at the tow company lot, paid their criminally high towing and storage fees. The inside of the car was trashed, but all the joyriders (or it could have been the tow company) really stole was an axe I had left in the back of the car. When I got back to the lumberyard, one of the guys I worked with showed me how easy it was to pop the locks in a Chevy Impala of that vintage — all you needed was a teaspoon, and it was actually easier to unlock the car with a teaspoon than with the key.

My buddy Will and I loved that car for driving up to the White Mountains for a backpacking trip. There was lots of room for our packs, it was easy to steer, and that V8 engine went up the steepest grades as if nothing was there. On one trip, the car broke down when we were a hundred and fifty-five miles from home. One hundred and fifty miles was the distance Triple-A would tow my car, so we walked to a phone, got a local tow company to tow us five miles down the road, paid them off, then called Triple-A, and waited a few hours for them to come out to tow us home. The tow truck driver was a friendly guy with a French Canadian accent, and he hooked the rear of my car up, and then we crammed ourselves into the cab of the tow truck, along with him and his girlfriend. He revved up the tow truck’s engine, and drove across the median strip of the highway — I looked out the back window to watch my station wagon bumping and dragging along through the grass behind us. We had a companionable ride home, talking cheerfully with the driver and his girlfriend. So ended that backpacking trip.

The station wagon got rustier and rustier. One spring day, I was driving home from somewhere, and I got to the traffic light that was two tenths of a mile from our house. The light turned green, and as I accelerated the car gave a sort of lurch, the front end dropped down, and the steering wheel pulled madly to the left. I managed to get the car home, driving pretty slowly. Late that night, when there was no traffic on the road, I drove the car over to the garage, with my dad following behind in his car in case anything happened. The next day, the garage called with the bad news — the whole front part of the car was so rusted that they didn’t think they could repair it. I asked around at work, and one of the guys knew someone who owned a garage that did welding work, but when he called them, they told him that if the car had a 305 V8 it wasn’t worth fixing, because those 305 V8 engines gave out at a hundred and five thousand miles. I always wondered if the front end had been weakened by the way that crazy tow truck driver dragged my car across the median strip; but it didn’t really matter, because the engine probably would have gone a few months later.

So after having driven it for about four years, I junked the car. Even though I didn’t know how I was going to afford a new car, I felt a sense of relief — when you get to the point where a car is an adventure rather than a means of transportation, it’s time to let it go.

Choose one for UUA president: Hallman | Morales

1 March 2009 at 02:18

If I’ve got my facts right, it’s now too late to nominate another candidate for the presidency of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA). Oh well. We must choose between the two candidates who have declared themselves: Laurel Hallman, the anointed candidate of the UUA power elite; and Peter Morales, the upstart candidate.

Honestly, I’m not terribly enthusiastic about either candidate. Both candidates are a little too committed to “The UUA Way” of doing religion. What is The UUA Way? The UUA Way is:

  • doing religion like it’s still 1986
  • being obsessed with John Carver’s “Policy Governance” (TM) model for administration
  • placing 1980s second-wave feminism at theological center
  • focussing attention on the wealthy White suburbs.

In addition, The UUA Way is dominated by these Baby Boomer behavior patterns:

  • expecting churches to provide goods and services to consumers
  • operating under the assumption that protest is the pinnacle of social justice work
  • always being far too self-absorbed.

I was hoping that a younger candidate (“young” by the standards of The UUA Way means someone under 50) would step forward at the last minute to challenge The UUA Way. Since that hasn’t happened, I’ve finally decided that I’m going to vote for Peter Morales.

I’m going to vote for Morales even though he says he supports John Carver’s Policy Governance (TM) model, a rigid and inflexible model that is poorly matched to membership organizations in which the members (not the Board) set ultimate policy — but at least he uses and seems to understand the phrase “modern management” as applied to non-profits, and that counts for a lot. I’m going to vote for him even though the theological vision he states in his platform is not particularly compelling, nor particularly deep — but at least as someone who spoke Spanish before he spoke English, he seems to have some understanding of theologies that might be congruent with a post-White-hegemony world, and he is willing to talk about reconciliation, and those things count for a lot. Most important to me, Morales seems to really understand that The UUA Way has to undergo rapid change to respond to the vast changes in surrounding society — I don’t think he would change The UUA Way as much as I’d hope to have it changed, but at least we’d see some change in the right direction.

Not that it matters how I vote, or whom I support, because the rumor mill tells me that Morales doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance. Hallman has the money and the influential people behind her, and even Gini Courter, the popular moderator of the UUA, has come out in support of Hallman. So maybe I should just forget the 2009 election.

But I will say this: If you’re a post-Baby-Boomer minister, with good administrative and fundraising skills, and a deep understanding of the societal changes that are rapidly rendering The UUA Way obsolete — I do hope you will start preparing now to run for the 2014 2013 UUA presidential election.

Spring watch

1 March 2009 at 02:26

The song of a House Finch awakened me this morning. It seemed so normal that for a moment I didn’t realize that this is the first day this year I have heard a finch singing outside our apartment. I opened my eyes, and said matter-of-factly, “That’s a House Finch.” I said this matter-of-factly, but inside I felt extraordinarily pleased.

Later in the morning, when I was putting on my shoes to go outside, Carol’s cross-country skis caught my eye, leaning in one corner of our little vestibule where they have been standing since the last big snowstorm we had in January. They looked odd and out-of-place, and before long I will put them away in the storage closet until next winter.

Singable hymns

2 March 2009 at 03:02

An Anonymous Person was explaining to me why she is not attracted to the worship services at our church. Among other reasons, Anonymous Person said that the hymns that are hard to sing. I asked: Hard to sing how? Anonymous Person replied that they were too high. And the more I think about it, the more I think she’s right.

In the current Unitarian Universalist hymnals, the hymn tunes typically fall between middle C and high E-flat (i.e., C4 to Eb5, with male voices transposed down an octave to C3 to Eb4). This is a comfortable range for sopranos, and if transposed down an octave, for tenors as well. But what about those of us who have alto voices, like Anonymous Person, or bass voices, like me?

Let me speak for the bass voices among us. If my voice is fully warmed up, and if I concentrate on technique, I can reach E-flat above middle-C (i.e., Eb4). A trained bass voice should be able to reach that note regularly; but mine is not a well-trained voice, and if my allergies are acting up, or if my voice isn’t warmed up, or if I’ve just finished preaching a draining sermon, I’m lucky to hit middle C (i.e., C4). Even when I can sing that high, the most comfortable and powerful part of my singing voice is well below that, from the B-flat below middle C down to the G below low C (i.e., from Bb3 down to G2).

Thus today at church, even though I wasn’t preaching, my allergies were acting up, — so when we sang hymn #114 to the tune of St. Gertrude in the key of E-flat, I had to drop out on those high D and high E-flat notes. It would be great if I could sing the bass part to #114, which is comfortably pitched for my voice and is lots of fun to sing, — but I’m not a strong enough singer to sing it on my own, and hardly anyone sings in four-part harmony any more; sometimes I can follow the bass line on the piano or organ, but today our music director was improvising the accompaniment to #114 which meant I could not follow the bass voice line on the piano. So I sang the soprano’s melody line down an octave, dropped out on the high notes, and didn’t have much fun singing.

While I was struggling my way through hymn #114, it occurred to me that the way we sing hymns is the result of institutional inertia rather than good musicianship. A hundred years ago, our hymns were all written and pitched to be sung with four voices:– sopranos took the melody, and altos, tenors, and basses sang harmony parts. Today, not many congregations can sing in four-part harmony confidently. What usually happens is that all of us try to sing the melody part, which is pitched for soprano voices — yet only about one fourth of us have soprano voices. Most tenors can adjust pretty well by singing the melody part down an octave, but that still leaves half of us, the altos and the basses, unable to sing any of the hymns comfortably.

Even if you’re an alto or bass who can sing four-part harmony confidently, you’re still out of luck much of the time. The new Unitarian Universalist hymnal supplement, Singing the Journey, doesn’t have four-part vocal arrangements;– and perhaps a third of the hymns in the older Singing the Living Tradition lack four-part vocal arrangements.

I can understand why we’d drop four-part vocal arrangements (so few people can sing them), but if we’re dropping four-part singing, then why is every hymn written as if only sopranos are going to sing the melody? The two interlocking answers to this question are: (1) institutional inertia, i.e., “we do it this way because we’ve always done it this way”; and (2) poor musicianship, i.e., the arrangers and editors of hymns haven’t replaced four-part singing with a musically sound alternative.

Now some churches get past this problem by using over-amplified music. If the amplified praise band drowns out your voice, it doesn’t matter if you sing the notes or not, because no one’s going to hear you (you won’t even hear yourself). This is a sociologically astute solution, because most of the population is accustomed to a relatively passive consumption of over-amplified music. However, if you believe that congregations are not passive consumers but active participants in worship, over-amplified praise bands are a poor solution indeed.

I don’t have the ultimate solution to this problem. But here’s one short-term solution: ask the accompanist to transpose the key of all hymns down somewhat. I served in one church where there was an astute music director who did just this — he had a good sense of the average voice, and pitched the hymns downward accordingly. It would also make sense to occasionally choose hymns with a narrower range * — the narrower the range, the more likely it will be that average voices can sing them successfully.

What are your solutions to this problem? How can we help people with average voices, and no musical training, have fun singing in church?

* Examples of hymns with narrower ranges (less than an octave), and good keys to pitch them in:
#30 “Over My Head” — range of a major third — transpose down to key of F
#140 “Hail the Glorious Golden City” (tune: Hyfrodol; hymns 166 & 207 also use this tune) — range of a major sixth — transpose down to key of E
#131 “Love Will Guide Us” — range of a major sixth — does not need to be transposed for average voices

Winter

2 March 2009 at 03:09

Yesterday was sunny and warm; yesterday I was awakened by the sound of House Finches singing in the trees down the street. But this morning I was awakened by the sound of sleet and snow hitting the roof as it was whipped along by bitter winter wind. When I looked out the window, the ground was covered with an inch of wet snow. I hope the House Finches found shelter, because all too often early migrants die in a cold snap.

Carol in the New York Times

2 March 2009 at 16:04

I almost forgot to mention that my partner Carol got mentioned back on February 27 in a New York Times op-ed piece titled “Yellow Is the New Green.” She’s quoted in the second half of the piece.

Don’t forget that June 21 is Pee-on-Earth Day….

Hosea Ballou in New Bedford

4 March 2009 at 03:21

I’ve been tracing out the history of Universalist preaching in New Bedford, and finally tracked down the date when Hosea Ballou, the greatest of the early Universalist preachers, visited here — it’s in the second volume of Thomas Whittemore’s sprawling 1854/5 biography of Ballou. Ballou did a tour of the region, preaching at New Bedford, Fairhaven, Mattapoisett (then part of Rochester), Acushnet and Long Plains (then parts of Fairhaven).

Whittemore includes an anecdote of one of Ballou’s encounters with more orthodox clergy. It is such a classic story that I have included it in its entirety, along with the entire story of Ballou’s preaching tour in this area. (I’ve added a few numbered footnotes; Whittemore’s own footnote is marked with an asterisk.)

———

[p. 101] “In May, 1820, he [Ballou] made a journey to New Bedford, at the call of a few friends there, and preached the word of the Lord, as he understood it, at a private house, [1] there being, as he said, ‘no meeting-house in the town whose owners were willing to have the doctrine of God’s universal, impartial, unchangeable goodness preached within its consecrated walls.’ Thence he crossed the river to Fairhaven, where he addressed an assembly in the academy, and also at the head of the river, so called, in the meeting-house formerly occupied by the memorable Dr. West. [2] In the precinct called Mattapoiset, in the town of Rochester, he was invited to preach, by a physician, who was a large owner in the meeting-house. The house was opened by proper authority; but when Mr. B. came to the door, he was confronted by the settled pastor, Rev. Lemuel Le Baron, who forbid his going into the house. Mr. Ballou was very sorry to wound the feelings of the gentleman; but the house had been opened by proper authority, and there was no good reason why the people who had assembled should be disappointed. The principal reason assigned by Mr. Le Baron for his opposition was, that Mr. Ballou was a Universalist, and that Universalism was subversive of Christianity. Mr. B. invited the clergyman to go in with him, and hear what he had to deliver, and then he [p. 102] could the better judge whether the doctrine preached was the truth or not. But Mr. Le Baron refused to do this, and insisted that he had a right to control the pulpit, and to say who should preach in it. Mr. B. told him that the gentlemen who had given their consent for him to preach in the house were of respectable standing, and proprietors of the house; and, if they had violated his privileges, they must be accountable. He further added, that, however Mr. Le Baron might think it his duty to forbid his preaching, he himself could not see how a man who did not own the house could prevent those from the free use of it who did own it, when they desired to worship God according to the dictates of their own consciences. [3] Mr. B. accordingly passed in, and ‘a goodly number (said he) attended to the word.’ * He preached again in the same place in the evening. Before leaving the place, he addressed Mr. Le Baron a long letter, in which he called on him to show wherein Universalism was subversive of Christianity. Mr. B. quoted many passages from the Scriptures, and then wished his antagonist to show either that these passages did not prove Universalism, or else show how they were subversive of Christianity. This being done, Mr. B. proceeded to a meetinghouse at Long Plains, at the upper part of Fairhaven, where he preached, after which he returned home.”

Footnotes:

* “On Mr. Le Baron being told that Mr. Ballou was going to preach in the house, he said to one of his friends, ‘Had I not better go into the house, and be sacrificed at the foot of the pulpit-stairs?’ On the remark being repeated to Mr. Ballou, he asked, ‘Who did the poor man think was going to harm him?'”

[1] According to the 1869 History of Churches in New Bedford, this “private house” was Dudley Davenport’s carpenter’s shop.

[2] Dr. Samuel West was the liberal minister of the congregation which in 1795 moved to the growing Bedford Precinct, later New Bedford; that congregation became First Congregational Society of New Bedford (Unitarian), now First Unitarian Church in New Bedford.

[3] The argument between Ballou and Le Baron turns on a touchy point. In 1820, most Massachusetts churches were composed of two somewhat separate organizations, the church and the society. The division of responsibilities was something like this: the church, controlled by the minister and the deacons, was the arbiter of who would be admitted as a full church member, such admission possibly including doctrinal tests; — the society, controlled by the proprietors (that is, those who provided the funding to build and maintain the meetinghouse), owned the building and most of the furnishings. Thus both Ballou and Le Baron had compelling arguemnts — Ballou arguing that the proprietors had the right to decide who got access to the building; Le Baron arguing that Ballou would injure the doctrinal purity of the church.

Reference: Life of Rev. Hosea Ballou: With Accounts of His Writings, and Biographical Sketches of His Seniors and Contemporaries in the Universalist Ministry by Thomas Whittemore, Boston: James M. Usher, 1854, vol II., pp. 101-102.

An eco-universalist prayer

4 March 2009 at 12:58

Yesterday’s post has the story of how the great Universalist Hosea Ballou did a preaching tour of the New Bedford region in May, 1820 — including an anecdote of how Rev. Le Baron of Mattapoisett unsuccessfully tried to keep Ballou from preaching. Never one to miss out on provoking a good controversy, Ballou wrote a letter to Le Baron the next day, which apparently had some kind of wider distribution. This letter is probably the first Universalist tract ever written in the New Bedford area.

Ballou’s letter contains one almost poetic passage, which could almost be a proto-eco-universalist prayer. I added snippets from elsewhere in the letter to make conclusion for it, and here it is:

 

     Does not the sun shine universally,
     and the moon likewise?

     Do not the clouds give rain to all,
     and the fruits of the earth grow
     for the benefit of all?

     Is not the vital air for the life of all;
     and are not all equally entitled to the waters?

     All people, every person,
     and the whole world are universal.
     This testimony, I believe, is Universalism.

 

For those of you who love to watch early 19th C. Universalists picking fights, I’ve included the full text of the letter below.

From Life of Rev. Hosea Ballou by Thomas Whittemore, Boston: James M. Usher, 1854, vol II., pp. 103-105:

[p. 103] ‘SECTION X.— LETTER TO REV. MR. LE BARON.

‘The following is the letter to Rev. Mr. Le Baron: it is eminently worthy of preservation in this place.

‘  “Rochester, May 19, 1820.

‘  “Rev. Sir: When you met me yesterday before the meetinghouse door, to forbid me going into the house, you gave as the reason of so doing that I was a Universalist, and that ‘Universalism is subversive of Christianity.’ Having meditated upon the subject with due caution, I feel that it can be no violation of the strictest rules of propriety to call on you, in this way, to point out to me wherein Universalism is subversive of Christianity. With a view to present you with what appears to me necessary to be done in this case, I will state to you what I think Universalism is, and then you will be so kind as either to show me that what I state is not Universalism, or else show that it is subversive of Christianity.

‘  “The promises which God made to the fathers, in which it is positively stated that in the seed of Abraham, which is Christ, all the nations, all the families, and all the kindreds of the earth, shall be blessed, I humbly conceive are of universal import; but, if you can show that they are not, and that any of the human family are excluded from the promises; or, on the other hand, if you can prove that these promises are subversive of Christianity, you will maintain your assertion. David says, ‘The Lord is good unto all, and his tender mercies are over all his works.’ Will you, reverend sir, undertake to prove that this is subversive of Christianity? or, will you undertake to show that it is not universal? All God’s works, it appears to me, must comprehend the universe; and if he is good to all, and if his tender mercies are over all, I cannot see why this is not Universalism. It is declared, by the inspired writers of the New Testament, that the mediator gave himself a ransom for all men, that he by the grace of God tasted death for every man, and that he is the propitiation for the sins [p. 104] of the whole world. This well-attested testimony, I believe, is Universalism; but, if you think not, be so good as to show that all men, every man, and the whole world, come short of being universal; or, on the other hand, endeavor to show that this testimony is subversive of Christianity.

‘  “St. Paul says, that God our Saviour ‘will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth.’ This is what I view to be Universalism; but, if you think otherwise, I will thank you to point out wherein it is not so; or, on the other hand, show that God’s will to save all men is subversive of Christianity. To the Romans, St. Paul says, ‘Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law, that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God; for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God; being justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.’ It appears to me that this testimony, both in regard to the guilt of mankind, and in regard to the free grace by which all are justified, is evidently universal; but, if you think otherwise, be so good as to point it out; or, on the other hand, show that this universal justification is subversive of Christianity. This author furthermore says to the Romans, ‘Therefore, as by the offence of one judgment came upon all men to condemnation, even so by the righteousness of one the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life.’ Will you, dear sir, endeavor to show that this is not Universalism ? Or, will you attempt to prove that it is subversive of Christianity? To the Ephesians the apostle speaks as follows: ‘Having made known unto us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure which he purposed in himself; that in the dispensation of the fulness of time he might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth.’ To the Colossians he says: ‘For it pleased the Father that in him should all fulness dwell; and (having made peace through the blood of his cross) by him to reconcile all things unto himself; by him, I say, whether they be things in earth or things in heaven.’ These several testimonies appear to me to comprehend universal reconciliation to God, through Jesus Christ; but, if you [p. 105] can show the contrary, or if you can prove that these passages are subversive of Christianity, you will maintain your assertion. This inspired apostle further says to the Corinthians: ‘But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the first fruits of them that slept. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.’ If all men die in Adam, and if all men are made alive in Christ, this appears to be universal; but, if you can show that it is not, or if you can prove that it is subversive of Christianity, I must on my part acknowledge that you maintain the ground which you have taken. We read in Revelations thus: ‘And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard I, saying, Blessing and honor, and glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.’ Reverend sir, is this anything less than universal, or does it subvert Christianity ?

‘  “Now let us turn our thoughts to the providence of our Heavenly Father. Does not the sun shine universally, and the moon likewise? Do not the clouds give rain to all, and the fruits of the earth grow for the benefit of all? Is not the vital air for the life of all; and are not all equally entitled to the waters?

‘  “This, reverend sir, in my view, is Universalism; but, if you can show that it is not, or if you can prove that the universal, impartial goodness of God, in his providence, is subversive of Christianity, you will maintain the assertion which lay as the cause in your mind why you ought to forbid me to preach in the meeting-house, where I was invited to preach by the proprietors, who built and own the house.

‘  “I humbly entreat you, reverend sir, not to be offended because I have, in this way, called on you to maintain your assertion; but condescend either to grant my request, or be so candid as to say that it is out of your power so to do. And may God’s universal, impartial grace forever abide in both our hearts, prevail everywhere, and finally be the theme of universal praise!

‘  “Your most humble fellow-servant in Christ,
‘  “HOSEA BALLOU.

‘  “Rev. Lemuel Le Baron.”  ‘

Why I hate peace songs

6 March 2009 at 03:46

The Civil Rights movement had the best political songs ever. But the peace movement has generally had boring songs. I blame it on Woody Guthrie. When he was with the Almanac Singers, he wrote a bunch of songs calling for peace. The chorus of one such song went like this:

Peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace.
I can hear the bugle sounding,
Roaming around my land, my city and my town;
Peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace, peace….

Fourteen interminable repetitions of the word “peace.” It isn’t one of Guthrie’s best songs.

And ever since then, folk singers think that the best way to write a song about peace is to copy Guthrie, and us the word “peace” over and over again. Sy Miller and Jill Jackson do it in their song “Let There Be Peace on Earth.” Joanne Hammil does it in her otherwise lovely song “Circle the Earth with Peace.” [I changed my mind about Joanne Hammil: see below.] Lui Collins does it in her song “Peace on Earth.” Jim Scott does it in his song “Taking a Step for Peace.” These are all songwriters whom I generally like, but these particular songs just don’t cut it.

(Songwriters and singers, please take note: singing the word “peace” over and over again does not inspire me to work for peace; instead, it just bores me and annoys me. Singers and songwriters, please take further note: a good political song either tells a story, or it calls for action; but simply repeating a word over and over again does not make for a good song.)

Compare the above songs, if you will, to the Gang of Four’s “I Love a Man in Uniform,” a peace song in which a narrator tells why becoming a soldier is so compelling. This is a song which actually deepens our understanding of the way the military exploits people:

The good life was so elusive,
Handouts, they got me down;
I had to regain my self-respect
So I got into camouflage.
The girls, they love to see you shoot…

Problem is, “I Love a Man in a Uniform” is kinda hard to sing without that funky bass and rhythm guitar and those hip backup singers.

And that seems to be the pattern for peace songs. On the one hand, you have singable songs with inane lyrics. On the other hand, you have great songs that aren’t singable by ordinary people.

And if I can’t sing, I don’t wanna be a part of your peace movement.

Crossposted.

Update 7 March 2009: I was in a workshop today led by Joanne Hammil, and she had us sing “Circle the Earth with Peace.” She wrote this song for use with kindergarteners and the primary grades, and there are fun hand motions that go with it, that really add to it. Now I am a fan of this song, and would gladly teach it to a children’s choir or an intergenerational ensemble. As always, context is very important for music.

More on North Unitarian Church in New Bedford, Mass.

6 March 2009 at 19:09

North Unitarian Church in New Bedford began as a mission to the immigrant communities in the North End of New Bedford in 1894, had a separate institutional existence as a church 1917-1923, returned to its status as a settlement house, reorganized as a separate church in 1944, and finally consolidated with First Unitarian c. 1971. I’ve just put together a page on North Unitarian’s history, summarizing my research to date.

Sources on North Unitarian Church | Unity Home begins with a concise summary of major institutional events. From there, you can drown in excerpts from far too many primary and secondary sources. You have been warned.

Spring watch

8 March 2009 at 03:33

It was such a shock when the snow hit on Monday. It was heavy, nasty stuff, too: not really snow, but a mix of sleet, snow, and freezing rain, and back-breaking to have to shovel. The next morning, everyone seemed to be driving more aggressively than usual, in part because the roads were badly plowed. Then it got cold and everything froze and it felt like we were back in wintertime.

But today the sun came out and the air warmed up. I managed to take a walk down along the waterfront late in the afternoon, and places where Carol and I could not walk yesterday because of the snow now had no snow at all. My mood lightened appreciably, too: I was more cheerful than I had any right to be.

[aphorism]

8 March 2009 at 17:06

After reading a novel by Trollope:

When we discover our idols have feet of clay, there’s an unfortunate tendency to despise the idols, instead of asking ourselves why we bothered to create idols in the first place.

Spring watch

10 March 2009 at 01:57

When I went out to put garbage in the compost bin this afternoon, it was snowing: big fat fluffy white flakes blowing and swirling around our building.

Yesterday I heard my first Northern Cardinal of the year. And my car had the first bird droppings of the year splattered all over the hood, probably from the House Finch that was sitting up in the tree above the car and singing his heart out.

"And only four kids came/"

11 March 2009 at 01:39

Maggi Peirce gave a talk today at the church about how she and some others started a folk music coffee house in New Bedford in 1967. They had programming every Friday and Saturday evening, to provide a safe place for teenagers during that era of youth unrest. After starting off with a bang in May, 1967, they began having increasing difficulty finding adult volunteers, until things reached a crisis point in July. Here’s how Maggi told the story this afternoon:

“Every time that I would ask for people to help, they sort of faded like snow off a ditch. And then there was one famous night where I had to take care of Friday night. And I turned up, and wonderful Joe Cardoza. We loved Joe Cardoza. He always did the door. He was our doorkeeper, and he was from Pilgrim Church [the UCC church here in New Bedford]. The salt of the earth! And there was another woman there called Florrie; and then Ellen; they worked in the kitchen.

“And when this happened, I arrived on the Friday, but nobody else did. Joe was on the door. And there wasn’t even any coffee that night. And only four kids came. And one of them was P—— and he was from Fairhaven. And he said to me — he had a guitar with him; he didn’t play very well [laughter] — and he said, ‘Is nothing happening tonight?’

“And I said, ‘There is always something happening at Tryworks.’

“And he looked at me, and he said, ‘You know, Maggi, this is sort of typical of New Bedford. Everything starts with a big article in the newspaper, and a big hoopla.’ He said, ‘Remember that first night in May, when we opened?’ And this was about July [1967]. He said, ‘Everybody starts with a terrific hope, and everybody’s going to help, and then it all fizzles out within six weeks.’

“And I said, ‘P——, I promise you. Tryworks will not fizzle out in six weeks.’  ”

Well, to make a long story short, Maggi kept that promise. Tryworks coffee house did not fizzle out in six weeks. Maggi became the first director of Tryworks coffeehouse and ran it for twenty years. After she stepped down, it continued for another fifteen years, and when it finally closed for good in 2003 it was the longest-running folk music coffee house in the United States. More importantly, in those thirty-five years Tryworks made a huge impact on the lives of hundreds of young people.

I guess the moral of the story is this: If only four kids show up for your youth program, don’t give up.

No satisfactory moral resolution

12 March 2009 at 03:28

Bernard Madoff, the perpetrator of what has to be the biggest Ponzi-scheme fraud ever, is planning to plead guilty tomorrow to all criminal charges that have brought against him. Well, I’m no legal expert, so I have no idea what should be done to him from a legal standpoint. But I do feel competent to address some moral points that relate to Madoff’s guilty plea.

First, the scope of Madoff’s crime is so vast, with so many victims, extending over such a long time that I am not convinced that Madoff can be morally rehabilitated. Much of morality is a matter of habit, and the longer someone like Madoff indulges in the habit of immorality, the longer it will take to break that habit. Then too, perniciously evil habits like Madoff’s, which are grounded in simple greed (not desperation), and which are made in full knowledge that they are wrong, are habits that will be much harder to break. Because Madoff has become habituated to crime and habituated to enjoying the fruits of his crime, because he has engaged in his crimes for so long now, I doubt he can ever be trusted to live a moral life on his own.

Second, because Madoff can never be trusted to live on his own again, outside of prison, then he will be unable to make restitution to anyone whose money he stole. Madoff’s crime is one where restitution would make a difference in the lives of the victims (at least, in the lives of the majority of his victims who did not commit suicide). But we can’t ever trust him with any money-making scheme ever again — at least, we can’t trust him to earn another 65 billion dollars to pay his victims back.

The most we could hope for is an apology, but the chances of Madoff making any meaningful apology approach zero. Some people will take comfort in believing that Madoff will suffer some kind of torment and torture after death, but even if I believed in such punishment after death, I would not call that a satisfactory resolution to Madoff’s moral violations. Thus, I hold no hope for rehabilitation, restitution, apology, or punishment after death.

Unfortunately, this is one of those moral situations for which there is no satisfactory resolution. Fortunately, my religious faith does not expect nice neat satisfactory resolution of every moral violation. From my religious frame of reference the best moral response to Madoff’s evil actions is — not to dwell on rehabilitation, restitution, apology, or punishment — but to strengthen the social moral systems that help prevent such actions: — speak out against greed; refuse to let anyone believe that we deserve something for nothing; tell your children why Madoff is evil.

A peace song I actually like

13 March 2009 at 03:59

After all my whining and complaining last week about why I hate peace songs, I now have a peace song that I quite like. This past Saturday, I went to a music conference and attended a workshop on children’s choirs led by Joanne Hammil, and she taught us a very simple, but effective, peace song. The words are a straightforward prayer or meditation: “May I be an instrument of peace.” The melody works as either a meditative chant to be sung over and over again, or as a round with up to eight voices. We sang it in our church choir on Monday, and I’ve been singing it at home, and I haven’t gotten sick of it yet. So here it is:

Sheet music for “May I Be an Instrument of Peace”
MIDI file of “May I Be an Instrument of Peace”

(Please remember that MIDI files sound dreadful, and you should not judge this song by that file — the MIDI file is just there if you want to learn the melody of the song.)

A peace hymn that's not so bad

14 March 2009 at 02:38

OK, here’s a peace hymn that’s not too horrible.

Words: I found the words on Mudcat, made about three changes to make them gender-neutral, and smoothed out one or two rough transitions. I have been unable to track down who wrote these words, so I’m attributing them to “Unknown”; this is not great poetry, but it’s no worse than many of the hymns we sing on a regular basis.

Music: Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” I’m providing sheet music for the hymn in two forms: (1) melody and words only, on a 5-1/2 by 8-1/2 inch sheet suitable for inserting into a typical order of service; and (2) full score for choir, SATB on a full 8-1/2 by 11 inch sheet.

Earlier entry on a peace song.

Rev. Charles Morgridge, a not-quite-Unitarian

15 March 2009 at 04:35

Charles Morgridge was born in Litchfield, Maine, ion August 28, 1791. He attended Bowdoin College, from about 1817 to about 1820. (1) I have been able to find out nothing about his early life.

He entered Bowdoin College as a sophomore when he was 26 (i.e., probably in 1817), and probably was graduated in 1820 or 1821. At some point, he decided to become a minister in the Christian Connection (or Christian Connexion) denomination. He was ordained as a Christian Connection minister in Fairhaven on September 14, 1821; (2) and thereafter he led a peripatetic life, moving frequently from church to church.

While at Fairhaven, his salary as a minister was inadequate, so he also taught in the Fairhaven high school. After spending a year or two at the Fairhaven church, he went to serve for a year as a minister in Portsmouth, N. H., then perhaps two years as a minister in Eastport, Maine, and then he served at the Christian Connection Church on Summer Street in Boston. He left Boston and was settled at the North Christian Church (later called First Christian Church) in New Bedford from 1827. He left New Bedford in 1831 to become the minister of the Christian Connection church in Portland, Maine, at that time the largest church in that denomination, and stayed there until 1834. He returned to New Bedford to serve North Christian Church in New Bedford from 1834 to 1841. (3) Here’s a first-hand account by one Eleazar Sherman of what North Christian Church was like in 1834:

“This house will seat about fifteen hundred people. — In the time of the great reformation in 1834, this house was opened every day for more than three months, day and night; scores of weeping souls came out of their pews for prayer, and bowed before the Lord and the gazing multitude; and the prayers of God’s people prevailed; the angel of the everlasting covenant presented the humble prayer of the penitent before his Father; the angel of mercy descended and pat the cup of salvation to the lips of the dying sinner, and bade him drink the wine of the kingdom and live forever. Oh, what shouts of praise flowed from young converts, whose hearts were filled with hearenly love at this day of God’s power.

“Elder Charles Morgridge was their preacher at this time. He is a man of superior talents as a steward for God; much is under his care in God’s vineyard, and much will be required at his hands. I hope he may continue to be faithful, and always ready for every good work. While on this visit, I met with him at the water; he baptized nineteen happy converts at one time; the most of this number were young men. He continued to baptize converts for a number of weeks in succession from this time; and a very large addition was made to his church at this time, of the out-pouring of God’s spirit. I preached that Sabbath for brother Morgridge, and had great freedom in delivering God’s message to the people.” (4)

While Morgridge was at North Christian Church from 1834-1841, he showed some affinity for unitarian theology and those who called themselves Unitarians. In 1835, he gave the introductory prayer at the ordination of Angier, the new minister of First Congregational Society (Unitarian). (5) And in 1836, Morgridge engaged in a debate on the trinity in the local newspapers; (6) in 1837 he published a book of unitarian theology titled The True Believer’s Defence, against Charges preferred by Trinitarians, for not believing in the Divinity of Christ, the Deity of Christ, the Trinity, &fc., published first in New Bedford by Benjamin Lindsey, who happened to be a member of the Unitarian church, and later reprinted in Boston. The Christian Examiner and General Review, a periodical affiliated with the Unitarian denomination, reviewed the book in their May, 1837, issue. The anonymous reviewer said in part:

“The author of this little book is an active and intelligent minister of the Christian denomination. The nature of the subject, the leading object of the writer, and the circumstances under which he prepared the copy for the press were such as to preclude, for the most part, any attempt at originality, either of investigation or argument. Still the various reading, sound sense, and logical acumen evinced in the work, as well as the excellent spirit pervading it, abundantly vindicate his claim to the high rank he holds among his brethren.” (7)

The Unitarians of the day may have approved of Morgridge’s theology. But it seems very unlikely that the Unitarians would have felt comfortable with the ecstatic forms of worship prevalent at Morgridge’s church, as recorded by Eleazar Sherman.

When the Christian Connection denomination opened Starkey Seminary in 1842, Morgridge was invited to be the first principal, or president. He was invited to do so because he was “the most available man at that time in the Christian Connection who could teach Latin and Greek, and all the other branches usually taught in colleges.” After a successful eighteen month tenure at the seminary, Morgridge returned to New Bedford in 1844. Once in New Bedford, Morgridge began preaching in Mechanics’ Hall. (8) Soon he had gathered a congregation, and Centre Church was formed. (9)

However, when it came time to formally open the church, the local Christian Connection clergy refused to participate in the dedication services. Thus, the church asked Unitarian ministers to participate in leading the dedication services on February 12, 1845. This dedication was reported on by The Monthly Religious Magazine, a Unitarian periodical edited by Frederic Dan Huntington. The Rev. Ephraim Peabody, formerly minister of the New Bedford church, but then minister of King’s Chapel (Unitarian) in Boston, preached at the evening services which formally organized the church; Peabody spoke on “the constitution, powers, and objects of the Church.” The Rev. Mr. Hall of the Providence Unitarian church preached at the morning services, for the dedication of the building; he spoke on about how “Christ is the foundation of the Christian Church.” The Monthly Religious Magazine went on to say this:

“The whole occasion was one of interest, and somewhat new and peculiar, as occurring within the Christian connexion, yet chiefly conducted by Unitarian clergymen. The circumstances, as we understood them, are briefly these. Mr. Morgridge was formerly pastor, for many years, of one of the largest and most thriving societies in the Christian denomination, the first of that kind, we believe, in New Bedford, where now there are several. In consequence of some disaffection which at last appeared in the Society, Mr. Morgridge took a dismission a few years ago, and went to the west. He has lately returned, and some of his old friends, joined by others, have asked him to preach to them, and erected this house. For reasons which we are not competent to state or judge of, the other ministers of the Christian denomination there, with a portion of their people, stand aloof from Mr. Morgridge and his new church, and refused to take part in the services of dedication, though particularly invited. This alone made it necessary, had they not wished it on any other account, for the new society to look to other clergymen; and they turned to Unitarians, as nearest them in doctrine and sympathy, though we are not aware that the minister or members of this particular church are any nearer the Unitarian faith, than most of the Christian name; it being well known that all of that name are anti-Trinitarian at least.” (10)

It is easy to imagine why the existing Christian Connection ministers and churches “stood aloof” from Morgridge’s new church; they may well have been afraid that he would draw too many of their existing members away from them.

But in the event, Morgridge lasted less than two months as the minister of Centre Church. He apparently stayed in New Bedford for a time, but by 1847, he was the minister of First Christian Church in Fall River. (11) After that, he spent nine years in Barnstable, Mass., and then returned to Maine. He was living in 1869, but I have been unable to determine when he died. (12)

Part two continues the story of the ministers of Centre Church.

I would love to know more about Charles Morgridge. I have identified one additional source to consult, a 56 page book titled Facts and Documents in the case of Rev. Charles Morgridge; with the Report of his Committee, written by Rodney French of New Bedford, and published at Fall River in 1848. Any of my readers who might have more information about Morgridge, please let me know!

Notes:

(1) History of the churches of New Bedford: to which are added notices of various other moral and religious organizations, by Jesse Fillmore Kelley, Adam Mackie, New Bedford: E. Anthony & Sons, Printers, 1869, p. 49.

(2) A Sketch of Elder Daniel Hix: With the History of the First Christian Church in Dartmouth, Mass., by Stephen M. Andrews, New Bedford: E. Anthony & sons, 1880, p. 203.

(3) Kelley and Mackie, pp. 49-50.

(4) The Narrative of Eleazer Sherman: Giving an Account of His Life, Experience, Call to the Ministry of the Gospel, and Travels as Such to the Present Time, by Eleazer Sherman, Providence: H. H. Brown, 1835, p. 30.

(5) Kelley and Mackie, p. 20.

(6) Ibid., p. 84.

(7) Christian Examiner and General Review, Boston: James Munroe, volume 4, 1837, May, 1837, p. 268.

(8) Kelley and Mackie, p. 50.

(9) Kelley and Mackie, p. 20.

(10) The Monthly Religious Magazine, ed. Frederic Dan Huntington, Boston: L. C. Bowles., 1845, vol. II, no. 4, April, 1845, pp. 140-141.

(11) A centennial history of Fall River, Mass, by Henry Hilliard Earl, New York: Atlantic Pub. and Engraving Co., 1877, p. 155.

(12) Kelley and Mackie, p. 20.

Moses George Thomas, minister-at-large

16 March 2009 at 00:28

This is the second in a two-part series on the ministers of Centre Church, New Bedford. Part One.

Rev. Jonathan Brown, of Naples, N.Y., was the second minister of Centre Church, from 1845-1848. Following his unsuccessful ministry, the congregation “voted not to employ any but Unitarian ministers.” (13) They then called Rev. Moses George Thomas as their next minister.

Moses George Thomas was born on January 19, 1805, in Sterling, Mass. He was graduated from Brown University in 1825, and from there went directly to the divinity school at Harvard. (14) While he was still a student at Harvard Divinity School, the American Unitarian Association (AUA) hired him to travel through the Western frontier, to find out where the AUA might fruitful ground in which to plant new Unitarian churches. From 1826-1827, Thomas traveled some 4,000 miles on horseback, through Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, going as far west as St. Louis. (15)

Following his graduation from divinity school in 1828, Thomas served as minister of the Unitarian church in Concord, N.H., from 1829 to 1844. He was ordained there, and he was the first Unitarian minister settled in that city. He laid the cornerstone of the first Unitarian church building, and gave the sermon at the dedication of that building. In his early years at Concord, N.H., he became good friends with Ralph Waldo Emerson, who had supplied the pulpit there before Thomas arrived. (16) While serving in Concord, N.H., Thomas officiated at Ralph Waldo Emerson’s first marriage, to Ellen Tucker. (17) The next year, 1830, Thomas himself was married, to Mary Jane Kent. Thomas’s time in Concord was later reported to be perhaps the happiest time of his life. (18)

Thomas was settled at the Broadway Church in South Boston in 1845, soon after the church was organized; here again, Thomas was the founding minister of the church. This congregation never owned its own building, but met in rented space; it seems to have dissolved by about 1853. (19)

After leaving the Broadway Church, Thomas came to New Bedford and was installed as the minister of Centre Church in 1848. Two of the Unitarian ministers who had participated in the installation of Charles Morgridge at Centre Church also participated in Thomas’s installation, including Ephraim Peabody, who came down from Boston to deliver the charge to the congregation. John Weiss, then the minister at First Congregational Society (now First Unitarian Church), offered the right hand of fellowship during the installation. But this time, a minister of the Christian Connection, the Rev. Mr. Morton of New Bedford, also participated in the installation service. (20) Apparently, whatever the breach had been between Centre Church and the Christian Connection Churches in New Bedford had been at least partially healed by this time. Thomas remained at Center Church for 6 years, from 1848 to 1854, until Centre Church finally dissolved because of financial “embarrassments.” (21)

When Ephraim Peabody had been the minister of First Congregation Society, a system had been created for the congregation’s charitable work whereby the city was divided into districts, with one person assigned to each district to accept applications for assistance. (22) After Centre Church closed in 1854, First Congregational Society went a step further and hired Thomas to serve as a “minister-at-large” (what we might now call a community minister) to oversee the congregation’s assistance to the city’s poor. Rev. John Weiss was then the minister of First Congregational Society; Thomas’s work as minister-at-large for the church ended about the time Weiss resigned as our minister in 1859. In 1889, William J. Potter, then the minister of First Congregational Society, recalled:

“It is proper too, to recall that, within the time of Mr. [John] Weiss’s pastorate, a ministry-at-large was sustained for several years for service among the poor, Rev. Moses G. Thomas being the minister. After the severance of his relationship to the Society, he was continued for many years by the beneficence of those honored members, James and Sarah Rotch Arnold, of whose charities he became to a large degree the trusted bearer.” (23)

Thus Moses Thomas continued to serve the city’s poor as a minister-at-large through the personal generosity of James and Sarah Arnold. Thomas oversaw the Arnold’s philanthropic efforts in New Bedford for more than a decade, until he retired in 1868. (24)

Upon his retirement, he went to live on a farm with his son in Atlanta, Missouri, for two years, until he recovered his strength. (25) He spent the last years of his life back in Concord, N.H., where he died on September 18, 1880. (26)

The legacy of Centre Church was almost entirely forgotten until, just by chance, I read Potter’s history of the First Unitarian church and decided to learn more about this man who had been the minister-at-large during the late 1850s. We may have forgotten Centre Church and Moses Thomas, but we have always continued the Unitarian tradition of outreach to those in need. These days, two of our projects include a thrift store that serves people of all income levels, and our regular donations to the Shepherd’s Staff Food Pantry. I think Centre Church and Moses George Thomas would be proud of us.

Notes

(13) History of the churches of New Bedford: to which are added notices of various other moral and religious organizations, by Jesse Fillmore Kelley and Adam Mackie, New Bedford: E. Anthony & Sons, Printers, 1869, p. 50.
(14) Historical Catalogue of Brown University 1764-1904, Providence: Brown University, 1905, p. 145.
(15) Unitarianism in America, George Willis Cooke, Boston: American Unitarian Association, 1902, p. 140; Salted with Fire, ed. Scott Alexander Boston: Skinner House, 1994, p. 53.
(16) The Harvard Register: An Illustrated Monthly, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University, v.1-2, 1880, p. 210.
(17) Waldo Emerson, by Gay Wilson Allen, New York: Viking, 1981, p. 144.
(18) The Harvard Register, p. 210.
(19) The Boston Religion, by Peter Richardson, Rockland, Maine: Red Barn Publishing, p.191.
(20) The Christian Examiner, Boston: James Miller, vol. 45 (July-Nov. 1848), 1848, p. 471.
(21) Kelley and Mackie, p. 120.
(22) Ibid., p. 141.
(23) The First Congregational Society in New Bedford, Massachusetts: Its History as Illustrative of Ecclesiastical Evolution, by William J. Potter, New Bedford: First Congregational Society, 1889, p. 150.
(24) Kelley and Mackie, p. 141.
(25) The Harvard Register, p. 210.
(26) Historical Catalogue of Brown University 1764-1904, p. 210.

I'm a felt-board wanna-be

16 March 2009 at 03:27

My sister Abby the children’s librarian has been doing some amazing things with felt boards. She has put two posts on her blog about using felt board with Eric Hill’s fabulous picture book Where’s Spot? The first post has photos of some of the felt board creations which she has made — the second post includes a narrative account of how she used actually the felt board in a children’s story hour at her library.

Abby is really good at making and using felt board props. I have to admit that I’m still scared of using felt boards myself, but Abby has got me convinced that a felt board well-used can really add to the story.

Hymn-singing advice

16 March 2009 at 03:31

Blog reader Patty Rubin wrote a comment filled with ideas of how to improve congregational singing. Go read it — I know I will be stealing many of her ideas.

But, um, Patty — is it OK if we don’t sing “Spirit of Life”? I just don’t like that song any more. Or if I do use it, can I use Dwight’s alternate words?

House on a barge

17 March 2009 at 03:02

Yes, this is a photo of an old decrepit house on a barge. Taken at the waterfront just down from our house this evening.

A true story/

19 March 2009 at 03:15

I ran across a true story last week, with a plot worthy of a 19th C. novelist. It’s such a good story, I can’t resist writing it down here. (Even though all those concerned with this story are dead, I have changed dates and identifying characteristics anyway — and no, this story has no connection to New Bedford.)

The story begins in 1857, in a small town in northern New Hampshire, when a baby boy is born to a young couple. We’ll call him Albert. Everything is fine until Albert is two and a half, when his parents die, leaving him an orphan. This is a backwoods place, and the only household that can support him is a house of working men; for some reason, they agree to take care of this little toddler. But this is not a fairy tale where cute little Albert reforms these rough, tough men — instead, Albert grows up wild, swearing and cursing from the time he could talk, hearing about the men’s sexual exploits from a young age, having little or no moral guidance (at least, that’s how he remembers it late in life).

When Albert is twelve he becomes friends with a girl three years younger than he. We’ll call the girl China. She lives in a nearby house, and her father is a foul-mouthed drunk, and her older sisters are little better than prostitutes (who knows where the mother disappeared to); in other words, she belongs to the same social class as Albert. Their friendship is the one bright spot in his otherwise miserable childhood. Then they hit adolescence, and before long they start having sex, and by the age of sixteen China is pregnant.

In 1876, society was not tolerant of girls getting pregnant outside of wedlock, and this was especially true for girls living in small New England towns. The townsfolk try to bring legal action against Albert, but under New Hampshire law of that time he is still a legal minor, so they can’t take legal action against him. But they separate China from Albert: he is sent away, and she stays in town and bears the child, a healthy baby boy named Saul. By the time Saul is five, the owner of the town livery stable, a man named Mr. Brewster, marries China and adopts Saul as his own son.

Meanwhile, Albert heads south to Concord, New Hampshire, where he attends school, and eventually winds up studying law with an established lawyer. The lawyer sends him off to Bowdoin, where he doesn’t get a degree, but he does get a year and a half of college. Then he goes back to Concord, New Hampshire, is accepted as a partner in the law firm where he had been working, and almost immediately marries a young woman named Belle who’s from Concord. Before they get married, he tells Belle all about China, and she is broad-minded enough that it doesn’t worry her. They have a child together. When the old lawyer in the law firm dies, Albert decides to try his luck in boston, where he practices law for a time. Then Belle and Albert decide to move to Lowell, and Albert practices law there for a few years before he moves to Somerville.

Thirty-odd years after they marry, Belle dies. While Albert hasn’t been wildly successful as a lawyer, he has done well enough, and over the years he has served with the Massachusetts Bar Association, and has many respectable friends in the Massachusetts legal world. By now, it’s 1925. Albert decides to make a sentimental visit to that little town in northern New Hampshire where he had grown up. He has been gone for nearly half a century now, and he doesn’t expect to find many people whom he remembers, or who remember him; yet whom does he meet but China herself. Mr. Brewster died only eight years after they were married, and she has been single ever since. Albert and China fall in love all over again, and they get married.

Two years after China and Albert marry, a close friend of Albert’s begins to put two and two together. By some freak happenstance, this friend happens to find out when China got married to Mr. Brewster. The friend knows that China and Albert were in love with each other before China married to Mr. Brewster. And this friend knows how old Saul, China’s son, is now. The arithmetic is easy, and the deduction is logical…. Albert realizes his friend has figured out the skeleton of the story. He writes a long letter to his friend, and fleshes out the rest of the story. Albert writes that while he’s thoroughly ashamed of his wild youth, both he and China were victims of their circumstances, they were not immoral but amoral; they are different people now than they were then; and now he is proud of his son Saul, and he is happy, not ashamed, to be married to China. Albert begs his friend to keep this secret, and declares that he would not burden his friend with the story except “I knew when you saw Saul, you figured out that he must have been born before China married Mr. Brewster.”

That’s the end of the story. The friend did keep the secret — at least, he kept the secret until Albert and China and Saul and he had all died. And although I stumbled across this story by pure chance, now I have kept the secret, too; because the real secret is not the story itself — a story that I am sure has happened frequently in the unwritten history of the human race — the real secret is knowing just who the people really were who were the chief characters in the story.

Carol gets press coverage/

19 March 2009 at 15:58

Carol, my sweetheart and life partner, got some good coverage in an article in yesterday’s Christian Science Monitor titled “Waterless urinals: Cheap. Green. But many think ‘gross’”. She got even more extensive coverage in a March 9 article in the Lowell Sun “Making the Most of Human Waste” (I was sitting there while she was doing the phone interview, and it’s interesting to see what made it innto the article and what didn’t).

Thank you for indulging me while I brag about Carol.

Sixth anniversary

21 March 2009 at 01:32

Today is the sixth anniversary of the invasion of the war of Iraq. So here’s a meditation for pacifists….

Jesus of Nazareth allegedly said:

“Don’t react violently against the one who is evil: when someone slaps you on the right cheek, turn the other as well. When someone wants to sue you for your shirt, let that person have your coat along with it. Further, when anyone conscripts you for one mile, go an extra mile. Give to the one who begs from you….” [Scholar’s Version, Matthew 5.38-42]

All these suggestions are, of course, absurd. If someone slaps your right cheek, why wouldn’t you just walk away from that person? — and how does this advice apply if someone slaps you on the left cheek? Absurd, absurd. As for that business about the shirt and coat, you have to remember that in a society where people only owned two garments, wouldn’t that would leave you standing around naked? Absurd. Carry a Roman soldier’s pack for an extra mile? Absurd. Give to the one who begs to you? — also absurd.

OK, maybe these things are absurd. But the alternative is the old eye-for-an-eye-tooth-for-a-tooth morality, e.g., when “Axis of Evil” kills some of our people, we automatically go and kill some of their people. Isn’t that old eye-for-an-eye morality just as absurd, in its own way?

Now I tend to be a pragmatic guy, and if someone slaps me on either cheek, I’m going to just walk away. For that matter, I’m not going to give away all my clothes and be naked, I’m not going to carry a Roman soldier’s pack. But as a pragmatist, results matter, and I don’t see that my pragmatism has done much to bring about world peace, either.

I don’t have the answer. But I am drawn to the clarity and elegance of Jesus’s moral philosophy. I’m not sure I want to try everything he suggests, but I do wish I had given money to the beggars I passed on the street today, just to live out his absurd teaching in a small way.

X-posted.

Happy birthday, dad

21 March 2009 at 12:34

My father’s birthday is today. Some years ago, Grace Paley wrote a poem describing what her father was like when he was the same age as my father is now. I discovered that by changing a few words, and adding a few words, the poem applies pretty well to my own father (at least, before January 20 of this year):

 

My father said
          how will they get out of it
          they should be sorry they got in

My father says
          how will they get out
          Cheney Bush    the whole bunch
          they don’t know how

goddammit he says
          I’d give anything to see it
          they went in over their heads

he says
          greed    greed    time
          nothing is happening fast enough

 

What are the changed words, you ask? I’ll let you look up the poem yourself, in Paley’s book Leaning Forward (Penobscot, Maine: Granite Press, 1985), p. 69. Hint: Paley’s poem was written c. 1970; the political leaders of that time were more aware of their errors in judgment than are Cheney and Bush.

The absent-minded minister

24 March 2009 at 02:09

I’m currently writing an essay about Samuel West, my predecessor in the pulpit here in New Bedford from 1761-1803. He had the reputation for being absent-minded and eccentric. Back in 1849, John Morison, another one of my predecessors in the pulpit here, wrote the definitive biographical essay of West. Morison tells the following anecdote as evidence of West’s eccentricity, and I’m going to ask you to read it, and then tell me what you think….

“The following story was told me by his daughter, and is unquestionably true. He had gone to Boston, and, a violent shower coming up on Saturday afternoon, he did not get home that evening, as was expected. The next morning his family were very anxious, and waited till, just at the last moment, he was seen hurrying his horse on with muddy ruffles dangling about his hands, and another large ruffle hanging out upon his bosom, through the open vest which he usually had buttoned close to his chin. He never had worn such embellishments before, and never afterwards could tell how he came by them then. It was too late to change — the congregation were waiting. His daughter buttoned up his vest, so as to hide the bosom ornaments entirely, and carefully tucked the ruffles in about the wrists. During the opening services all went very well. But probably feeling uneasy about the wrists, he twitched at them till the ruffles were flourishing about, and then, growing warm as he advanced, he opened his vest, and made such an exhibition of muddy finery as probably tended very little to the religious edification of the younger portion of his audience. ‘That,’ said his daughter, in telling the story, ‘was the only time that I was ever ashamed of my father.’  ”

So here’s my question: The poor man had a rough ride back home, was probably riding all night, got muddy and dirty, didn’t have time to change his clothing, but made it into the pulpit in time to preach. I don’t get it — this is eccentric how? I readily admit that I don’t pay much attention to my own personal appearance, and have been known to wear a suit on Sunday morning but forget to put on a tie (since I don’t wear a robe in the pulpit, this does not look good). I also admit that I have been asked by Beauty Tips for Ministers to submit a photograph to demonstrate how not to dress if you’re a minister. And I admit that it would be better if people like me and Dr. West had it in us to pay attention to our personal appearance.

But by all accounts, West was an amazing preacher, and can’t we put up with dirty ruffles for the sake of good preaching? And yeah, you don’t have to tell me, if the answer is “no,” I had better find another line of work….

Conversation on UUA election continues/

25 March 2009 at 02:19

I did a post a week or so ago on the upcoming election for the new president of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA), and in the past couple of days there have been three or four new comments that I think are worth reading. Start here, and keep reading down. Feel free to continue that conversation over there….

What’s going to be really interesting to watch between now and the election at the end of June is this — will the candidates have anything to say about the dire financial realities of the UUA? The financial crisis has hit the UUA hard, and from what I hear, UUA staff are slashing the budget right now, before the fiscal year has even ended — yes, things are that bad. I’m sure there will be little room for the new UUA president to start any new initiatives; instead, the new president will have to cut budgets, tighten belts, and lay off staff. Given where the economy is going, it will continue to get worse for at least a year.

So here some questions I want the UUA presidential candidates to answer: (1) Contemporary non-profit management requires increased efficiency because expenses for staff are rising faster than revenue; so what will you do to increase efficiency at the UUA? (2) A true fiscal conservative looks at both revenue and expenses; so in addition to cutting costs, how will you work to increase revenue? (3) One of the things many non-profits are doing these days is using more volunteers, and using them more effectively, especially considering how many Baby Boomers are retiring right now; so how will you work to extend the work of the UUA through volunteers?

That’s what I want to ask the UUA presidential candidates right now. What about you?

Your criticism requested/

26 March 2009 at 03:32

I’m writing a revisionist essay about the Rev. Dr. Samuel West, one of the early liberal ministers in Massachusetts whom later Unitarians claimed as a sort of proto-Unitarian. I feel West has been slighted to by the standard Unitarian biographies (including the bio on the UU Historical Society Web site), in the sense that his intellectual accomplishments have been overshadowed by exaggerated claims of eccentric behavior. Now I know some of my readers are interested in this kind of thing, and you are good at picking holes in my arguments, so I’m hoping at least some of you will be willing to read and comment on the rather long essay below….

Samuel West was born on 3 March 1730 (Old Style), to Dr. Sackfield West and Ruth Jenkins in Yarmouth, Massachusetts. He was apparently something of a prodigy as a child. He went off to Harvard College, and was graduated in 1754, one of the top students in his class. He decided to enter the ministry, and was ordained and installed on 3 June 1761 in the established church in what was then Dartmouth, Massachusetts. Beginning in the 1760s, West became active in politics, affiliating himself with the Whigs, and he remained involved with the Revolutionary cause through the Massachusetts convention which ratified the United States constitution. West married twice: first, on 7 March 1768 to Experience Howland, who died 6 March 1789, and with whom he had six children; second, on 20 January 1790 to the widow Louisa Jenne, née Hathway, who died 18 March 1779. Due to loss of memory (and possibly what we would now term senile dementia) West “relinquished his pastoral charge” in June, 1803. He went to live with his son, Samuel West, M.D., in Tiverton, Rhode Island, and died there 24 September 1807. (1)

These are the bare facts of Samuel West’s life. Behind those bare facts was a man of good character and superior intellect, who participated in two revolutionary ventures: the political revolution which was the separation of most of British North America from the British Empire during the War for American Independence, commonly called the American Revolution; and in the quiet and slow theological revolution that eventually led to an open breach between the liberal and conservative factions in the established Massachusetts churches. However, because West’s accomplishments are often obscured by his reputation for eccentricity, I will deal with the allegations of eccentricity first, and then give an account of his revolutionary accomplishments.

West’s biographers have often made a great deal of his eccentricity. This goes back to West’s first biographer, the Rev. John H. Morison, who wrote a biographical letter in 1849. In that letter, Morison repeats a number of anecdotes about West as proof of West’s eccentricity. (2) I feel there is good reason to question at least some of these anecdotes. Morison did not know West personally; his sources were West’s papers and documents provided by West’s family, church records, and reminiscences of people who had known West. But Morison wrote forty-six years after West died; I question whether we can trust the accuracy of reminiscences that may have gone back as much as three-quarters of a century. Furthermore, West may well have been suffering from growing senile dementia for the last few years of his life; and since many of the anecdotes cannot be dated, I wonder how many of them are really anecdotes about a man with senile dementia. Finally, Morison acknowledges that at least one of the anecdotes had been told about many ministers; it’s worth quoting this anecdote in full:

This is perhaps as good a place as any to tell an anecdote which has often been applied to other persons, but which the late Judge Davis of Boston, an admirable authority in such matters, says was true in the case of Dr. West. There had been difficulty with the singers, and they had given out that they should not sing on the next Sunday. This was told to Dr. West. “ Well, well, we will see,” he said, and, on Sunday morning, gave out his hymn. After reading it, he said very emphatically, “ You will begin with the second verse:—

      Let those refuse to sing
      Who never knew our God.”

The hymn was sung. (3)

This sounds like a folk tale, not good historical evidence. But why would Morison include an anecdote of such questionable veracity? Why do Morison’s biographers tend to reduce West to a stock absent-minded cleric?

In order to answer this question, I began looking for alternative explanations for alleged eccentric behavior. In the case of some allegedly eccentric behavior, Take, for example, the following anecdote that Morison records about West:

The following story was told me by his daughter, and is unquestionably true. He had gone to Boston, and, a violent shower coming up on Saturday afternoon, he did not get home that evening, as was expected. The next morning his family were very anxious, and waited till, just at the last moment, he was seen hurrying his horse on with muddy ruffles dangling about his hands, and another large ruffle hanging out upon his bosom, through the open vest which he usually had buttoned close to his chin. He never had worn such embellishments before, and never afterwards could tell how he came by them then. It was too late to change — the congregation were waiting. His daughter buttoned up his vest, so as to hide the bosom ornaments entirely, and carefully tucked the ruffles in about the wrists. During the opening services all went very well. But probably feeling uneasy about the wrists, he twitched at them till the ruffles were flourishing about, and then, growing warm as he advanced, he opened his vest, and made such an exhibition of muddy finery as probably tended very little to the religious edification of the younger portion of his audience. “That,” said his daughter, in telling the story, “was the only time that I was ever ashamed of my father.” (4)

I suspect this anecdote instead dates from a time when West was beginning to display signs of senile dementia. His daughter specifically states that this is the only time she was ashamed of her father, indicating that this was not usual (albeit eccentric) behavior.

Morison begins with the assumption that West was an eccentric, and interprets the historical evidence in that light. But if we begin with the assumption that Samuel West was a complex and interesting intellectual, we might reach different conclusions. Therefore, I’d like to turn away from Morison’s biography, and look at the evidence of people who (unlike Morison) actually met or knew West.

Ezra Stiles, who was president of Yale College from 1778 to 1795, was a friend of West. One of West’s letters to Stiles is worth quoting in full here:

“Lett, from Revd Mr. West of Dartmouth.
“Dartmouth Jany the 7th 1778.

“I this day rec’d your favor of the 2d Inst, as to your accepting the Presid’y of Y[ale] Coll[ege]. Honor & Interest being out of the Question, there are only to be considered your temporal Happiness & your Usefulness; as to the first, I am clearly of the Opinion that you would enjoy Life much better in the condition of the Pastor of a Chh of Christ, than in that of the Presid’t of a College; provided that you were beloved by your people, & treated with that Respect that ought to be shown to every worthy Minister of the Gospel; and it is my present Opinion that you may return with Safety to Newport before the Expiration of the present year: but this by the bye. I consider no Life so happy as that of a Gospel Minister who lives in Harmony with his People; Nor am I satisfied that you would be more useful in the College than in the Chh of God. Your Usefulness in either Station I doubt not may be very great: but this is too difficult a point for me to determine; there are many Circumstances to be taken into Consider’a, whether it is a difficult Thing to supply that Seminary with a suitable President? How your dispersed Chh & People stand affected to the Proposal? or if you give up Newport, How the Chh of Portsmo. stands affected towards you? etc. But above all, dear Sir, pray to the Father of Lights for Direction in this difficult affair, and in an humble Dependence on divine Assistance study to do that which will bring the greatest Glory to God, and good to the Souls of men, and you will undoubtedly be led into a right & just Determination of the matter. I am Rev’d & Dear sir
“Your affectionate Friend & Brother in X Jesus
“Samuel West” (5)

This letter reveals a thoughtful, caring man offering good, solid advice to a friend and colleague. West and Stiles also corresponded on the related subjects of alchemy and “hermetic science.” (6) In the eighteenth century, alchemy was not discredited as it is today, and in this correspondence Stiles and West undoubtedly understood themselves to be men of science.

The young John Quincy Adams met West, and wrote of him in complimentary terms. When he was a twenty-one year old law student in the office Theophilus Parsons of Newburyport, Massachusetts, Adams made the following entry in his diary:

[July] 14th [1788]. …When I came in from shooting, which still continues to be my sport and my occupation, I found a Parson West here, an old gentleman, who was three years in college with my father [i.e., with John Adams], and at that time very intimate with him. He is very sociable and very sensible. He spent the day here, and passes the night likewise. He keeps late hours and entertained me with conversation upon language till between twelve and one o’clock…. (7)

Adams understood West’s propensity of staying up late as acceptable behavior; by contrast, Morison finds the same behavior to be evidence of eccentricity. It may be that some of Morison’s local informants did not see the value in staying up late talking, and thought that represented eccentric behavior. While Morison blindly accepts the judgments of these local informants, we don’t have to do so.

In fact, Daniel Ricketson, a local historian of New Bedford, interpreted the local traditions of New Bedford differently than did Morison. Ricketson, writing six years later than Morison, concluded a short portrait of West by saying, “Dr. West was a man of considerable erudition, and in his personal appearance, as well as his remarkable eccentricities of character, is thought to have resembled the great Dr. Johnson.” (8) It is worth remembering that Dr. Johnson deliberately escaped his rural home town to go and live the great intellectual center of London, where his intellect could be appreciated. West lived in a place where few could appreciate his intellect, and so all that stood out were his eccentricities.

Morison claims that, having worked as a farm boy until he was twenty years old, when West left Cape Cod to go “to College in 1750, bare-footed, carrying his shoes and stockings in his hand.” (9) Because he did not live in the intellectual center of Boston and Cambridge, West’s manners may have struck the elite persons in those towns as crude and provincial. The image of the bare-footed boy going to Harvard is doubtless supposed to show us that West was a hick. Because, as an adult, West lived in the then-rural town of Dartmouth, he may well have been perceived as a hick for most of his life.

Sidney Willard, the son of Joseph Willard who was president of Harvard College from 1781 to 1804, recounted the following anecdote of Samuel West; this anecdote could be interpreted as a member of the elite making condescending remarks of someone whom he perceives as provincial:

Sometimes an eccentric visitor appeared. Master Moody I have mentioned; Pater West, as he was often called,– Samuel West, rightfully,– of Dartmouth, a minister of the gospel, was another. How he came by the first grave prænomen, Pater, I am not able to say with certainty; but I believe it was given to him by his classmates at college in honor of his age and his sway. He was a very thinking man; but his thoughts were not always uppermost about the things of immediate moment. He was in Cambridge in 1798, and made my father’s house his headquarters. He preached in the church of the first parish, having exchanged, I believe, with Dr. Holmes. My father was very anxious, lest the singularities for which he was very remarkable in the pulpit, and everywhere else, should disturb the gravity of the students, whose seats were in the front-gallery; and his anxiety was not without reason. Dr. West had, I suppose, been informed of the order of services in the church, or read them in the blank leaf of the hymn-book, and began accordingly with a short prayer, and read a portion of Scripture, and then a hymn, which was sung. But next he was in fault. He rose, and began to name the text of his sermon; and Mr. John Foxcroft (who was wont to utter little Latin scraps in secular intercourse), now, without due reverence for Priscian’s head, or for the pulpit, rose and addressed the preacher in bad Latin, namely, ‘Oblivisti preces, domine.’ The preacher heard a voice, and it may be an audible smile, so to speak, in the auditory; but whether his monitor was not sufficiently clear in his enunciation, or the preacher, whose wig was seldom rightly adjusted, had suffered it to cover his right ear, the words were to him a dead letter. His monitor did not rise to correct his Latin; and the preacher proceeded unembarrassed. After returning to the president’s house, unconscious, I have no doubt, of any omission in the public service, and prompted by a little vanity, of which he was not destitute, he asked, ‘Well, Mr. President, how did I make out?’ — ‘Very well,’ said the president, ‘except the omission of the long prayer.’ — ‘Well, I don’t care,’ said the doctor, ‘they have no business to have such a complicated service. I have only one prayer at home.’” (10)

Willard calls West eccentric, but another point of view might find Willard to be an affected and condescending elitist. Such judgments can depend greatly on the social location of the person making the judgment; they need not be considered to be accurate portrayals of the person being judged.

It’s important to remember that West was also divided from the elite, not just by his provincialism, but also by his relative poverty. When he arrived in Dartmouth in 1761, he was promised a salary of sixty-six pounds, thirteen shillings, and sixpence per year. In terms of today’s dollars, that would be roughly $20,000, which we would consider to be a low salary for someone who had a degree from Harvard College (West did receive payment in kind, effectively making his salary somewhat higher). Yet West never received the whole of his salary. Local historian Franklyn Howland studied church records and discovered that on 9 September 1788, “West’s personal account with the church shows the Precinct was indebted to him 769 pounds… and he threatens to present the matter to the civil court if not paid soon” (11); this would be nearly two hundred thousand dollars in today’s money. West had to support six children and maintain a horse on this inadequate income. It would be safe to say that compared to someone like Sidney Willard, West was poor.

William Bentley, minister of East Church in Salem, Massachusetts, from 1783 to 1819, a liberal minister (he lived long enough to be called a Unitarian) with equally liberal political views, seemingly should have felt sympathetic to West. But Bentley lived in a prosperous, more cosmopolitan city, and had a larger income and no family to support. In his diary, Bentley had this to say upon hearing of West’s death:

We have an account in the last papers of the death of Samuel West, D.D., formerly of Dartmouth, who has died at Tiverton. Nothing has been said of his age or situation which probably is kindly dropped into obscurity. Yet he is not a man that has lived in Obscurity or a man who has not possessed extraordinary powers of mind & as extraordinary singularities as ever are known. He graduated at Cambridge in 1754 & was of the same class with Gov. Hancock who took particular notice of him as did Dr. Payson of Chelsea. He had his Doctor’s degree in the same college & was a member of the American Academy, but I recollect no communication he ever made to that body. He was a large, well proportioned man, much beyond common size. Of great strength & capable of great labours without fatigue. He applied late to his studies & had a characteristic awkwardness which excited ridicule upon every thing he did. All the history of his life was known by anecdotes of singular oddity. His visit to Colleges, his Courtship, his parish duty, his attitudes, his dress, his voice, his gestures, his method of preaching, all have furnished amusement without any refusal to acknowledge the strength of his mind. I first saw him at Brooklyn. He preached with & without notes in the two services. It was odd enough…. I saw him at the Gov. with the Gov’s gift of a new wig & Coat upon his wretched cloaths. I saw & heard him at the Dudleian lecture when his appearance & manner gave high divertion to the Students. I saw him in private circles. (12)

Given West’s relative poverty, Bentley’s criticism of his “wretched cloaths” seems cruel. But Bentley also felt that West’s manners “excited ridicule” and “furnished amusement” through their “oddity.” Bentley’s account of West is similar to Sidney Willard’s account.

I think it could be argued that West was caught between two cultures: the elite New England intellectual culture of Harvard and wealthy cities like Boston and Salem, places to which he gained admittance due to his superior intellect; and the rural non-elite culture of southeastern Massachusetts, to which he belonged by birth and by virtue of living there as an adult. An analogous case from a later generation might be the case of Henry David Thoreau, who was seen as uncouth by some of the elite intellectuals whom he came to know, and who was seen as eccentric by his fellow townspeople.

We can pursue this analogy further: Like Thoreau, West did liberal theology outside the intellectual centers of Boston and Harvard. This challenges our notion that liberal theology came primarily out of urban intellectual centers, and so we too might be willing to give credibility to accusations of eccentricity against both these intellectuals, simply because they do not fit into our preconceptions of what an intellectual should look like. The anecdotes about West’s alleged eccentricity probably have some truth to them, but they also probably represent prejudices based on regional and economic differences, prejudices of the elite against the non-elite.

The main conclusion that I draw from all this is that Samuel West was an intellectual who should be taken seriously for the products of his intellect. As an intellectual, Samuel West was revolutionary in two senses of the word.

First, West contributed to the emergence of liberal religion in southeastern Massachusetts. It is West more than any other minister, more than any other single person, who put his mark on the congregation which eventually become First Unitarian Church of New Bedford. West led the congregation away from its original Calvinist and deterministic theology, into a more liberal “Arminian” theology in which human beings were presumed to have free will to make good moral choices. West may be considered the first preacher of liberal religion in southeastern Massachusetts.

Second, Samuel West contributed to the cause of the American Revolution. During the Revolutionary era, there were many thinkers in British North America who were trying to prove that, on the one hand, they must break away from the British Empire, but that, on the other hand, breaking away from the British Empire did not mean doing away with all government and descending into anarchy. West, as a learned minister of his day, could take on the role of a public intellectual, and in his most famous published sermon, the Election Day Sermon of May 20, 1776, he spoke at length about steering a course between separation from the Empire and anarchy. There were other public intellectuals who were more influential than West, — he was not as great as Thomas Jefferson, or Thomas Paine, or his Harvard classmate John Adams — but he did contribute in a small but significant way to the intellectual foundations of the American Revolution.

From here the essay will go on to consider West’s intellectual accomplishments. But what I’d really like to hear is your criticisms of the argument so far….

Notes

(1) These facts are taken from “Samuel West, D.D. (of New Bedford), 1761-1807,” a biographical letter by the Rev. John H. Morison, in Annals of the American Unitarian Pulpit: Commemorative Notices of Distinguished American Clergymen of the Unitarian Denomination in the United States, by William B. Sprague (New York: Robert Carter & Brothers, 1865), p. 37. Morison’s letter is dated 29 January 1849.

(2) Morison’s letter, dated 29 January 1849, is the earliest published biography of West. Most of the later biographical writing on West that I have read are based primarily on Morison’s work, e.g.: “Dr. West’s Pastorate and Arminianism,” in The First Congregational Society in New Bedford, Massachusetts: Its History as Illustrative of Ecclesiastical Evolution, by William James Potter (New Bedford: First Congregational Society, 1889), pp. 33 ff. which directly quotes substantial segments of Morison’s biography (without acknowledging Morison) as part of a theological argument; “Samuel West (of New Bedford),” in Heralds of a Liberal Faith: vol. 1, The Prophets, ed. Samuel Atkins Eliot, Boston: Beacon, 1910, pp. 50 ff., which reprints most of Morison’s biography verbatim (acknowledging Morison).

(3) Morison, p.

(4) Morison, p. 46.

(5) The Literary Diary of Ezra Stiles, ed. Franklin Bowditch Dexter, New York: C. Scribner’s sons, 1901, p. 252.

(6) The marriage of heaven and earth: alchemical regeneration in the works of Taylor, Poe, Hawthorne, and Fuller, by Randall A. Clack, Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2000, p. 43. Morison did not mention the correspondence with Stiles, but did note that “Alchemy was another subject that greatly interested Dr. West. He had particularly a taste for the Natural Sciences, and Alchemy was to him only the last analysis in Chemistry.” (p. 44)

(7) Life in a New England Town, 1787, 1788: Diary of John Quincy Adams While a Student in the Office of Theophilus Parsons at Newburyport, ed. Charles Francis Adams, Boston: Little, Brown, 1903, pp. 152-153.

(8) The History of New Bedford, Bristol County, Massachusetts: Including a History of the Old Township of Dartmouth and the Present Townships of Westport, Dartmouth, and Fairhaven, from Their Settlement to the Present Time, by Daniel Ricketson, New Bedford: Published by the author, 1858, p. 275

(9) Morison, p. 38.

(10) Excerpt from Sidney Willard’s Memories of Youth and Manhood, reprinted in Men and Manners in America One Hundred Years Ago, ed. Horace Elisha Scudder, New York: Scribner, Armstrong, 1876, pp. 50-51.

(11) A History of the Town of Acushnet, Bristol County, State of Massachusetts, by Franklyn Howland, New Bedford: published by the author, 1907, p. 210.

(12) The Diary of William Bentley D.D., Pastor of the East Church, Salem, Massachusetts, vol. 3 (January, 1803 to December, 1810), Salem, Mass.: The Essex Institute, 1911, pp. 323-324 (Oct., 1807).

Spring watch

27 March 2009 at 01:48

A few of us went up to a gospel concert in Norton yesterday, and as we were walking back to our cars after the concert, we could hear the spring peepers singing away in the swamp next to the parking lot. We all agreed that the spring peepers haven’t yet started singing down along the coast, presumably because it’s cooler next to the ocean.

Most of the waterfowl have left the harbor, but I did see six pairs of Buffleheads this afternoon. I suspect these are not birds that wintered over here, but rather birds that are migrating north and just happened to stop here for a day; perhaps they got stranded due to the strong north winds that were blowing the past two days.

Standing at the end of State Pier today, I saw two Harbor Seals surface quite close to the pier. They stayed quite close to one another, and at one point they twined their necks together, then slipped under water together. I’ve never seen seals behave in quite this way. I don’t know anything about the mating behavior of Harbor Seals (the only reference work I have on mammals covers land mammals, including order Sirenia but leaving out pinnipeds), but I wonder if what I saw was mating behavior.

What music do you listen to when you're/

28 March 2009 at 02:50

So as a minister, I have a question for you. When you are sad — I mean seriously sad, not just sad because you broke a nail, or because you didn’t hit the lottery (again) — when you are seriously sad, what music do you prefer to listen to?

I’ll hold off on giving my own answer for now….

Spring watch

29 March 2009 at 03:08

I spent a good part of the past two days up at Carol’s parents’ house in Westford, Mass. There’s a small wooded wetland right next to their house, and Friday in the late afternoon a chorus of frogs sang very loudly. (Actually, it wouldn’t be accurate to say they sing: the sound is something between a small dog barking and a Mallard duck quacking.) I’m not sure what kind of frog those are, but those were the only frogs I heard last night. And then this evening there were three or four spring peepers adding their voices to the chorus.

There’s a small pond a quarter of a mile away from the house; not a natural pond, but a constructed pond that a developer built in front of some condos. Yesterday Carol and I went for a walk around this pond, and she pointed out for me where sunfish had made nests. There were perhaps half a dozen of these nests, depressions in the sandy bottom near the edge of the pond, about ten inches across and several inches deep. She said that last week she saw a little Bluegill guarding each nest, but we didn’t see any fish there yesterday.

Driving up to Westford from New Bedford yesterday and this morning, I took I-495 most of the way. Perhaps I didn’t notice yesterday, but driving up today I realized that a few willow trees were starting to bloom. All the other trees are still a wintry gray, but a few willows had turned a straw-yellow color.

UU inducted into International Literary Hall of Fame for Writers of African Descent

30 March 2009 at 15:49

Everett Hoagland, poet and Unitarian Universalist, will be inducted into the International Literary Hall of Fame for Writers of African Descent. The Tenth Annual Induction Ceremony to honor the writers who have been selected for inclusion in the International Literary Hall of Fame for Writers of African Descent will take place at Chicago State University on April 18, 2009. Writers who are selected for inclusion in the Literary Hall of Fame have produced a visible body of work that exemplifies cultural cognizance and literary excellence. The award is administered by the Gwendolyn Brooks Center for Black Literature and Creative Writing. Other inductees for 2009 include Laini Mataka and Carolyn Rodgers.

Mr. Hoagland, former poet laureate of t he city of New Bedford, Massachusetts, is a long-time member of First Unitarian Church in New Bedford. His poems have appeared in many periodicals, including the denominational magazine UU World. Some of his poems have been on liberal religious themes, notably including the poem “The Pilgrim” in his 2002 book …Here…: New and Selected Poems.

Obituary

31 March 2009 at 20:25

Betty A. Steinfeld, 70, of Westford, Mass., died March 29, 2009 at home, surrounded by her family.

A graduate of Morningside College, she spent much of her career editing technical publications for Digital Equipment Corp. (now Hewlett Packard) and her daughter’s publishing company, and was an award-winning indexer. She lived for many years in Westford, Mass.

She was born in Whiting, Iowa, to Elsie (Merritt) and Archie Stubblefield. Family members include her husband of 45 years, Edward; daughter, Carol and her spouse Daniel Harper of New Bedford, Mass.; and her sisters, Bonnie Ahmann of Montgomery, Ala. and Rose Mather of Yankton, S.D.; as well as nephews and nieces.

A remembrance gathering will be held 12 noon, April 4 at the Parish Center for the Arts of Westford, Mass. In lieu of flowers, donations in her memory may be made to the American Cancer Society.

Oy

2 April 2009 at 00:41

So I managed to get food poisoning. Extremely unpleasant. I’ll be back here when I feel up to it.

Upward trend/

3 April 2009 at 22:26

Recovering from food poisoning has been quite an adventure.

Some factoids: So far, I’ve lost ten pounds (down to 180). My sense of smell seems especially acute, presumably so I can catch the faintest whiff of bad food before I eat it. My stomach muscles are still sore from the workout they got.

Subjective impressions: I spent much of Wednesday and Thursday asleep. I seem to recall long, lucid, enjoyable dreams. I don’t remember what the dreams were about, but they seemed entertaining at the time (I was running a slight fever for a day or so, so some of them might have been fever-dreams). I do seem to remember one long dream that was a detailed memory of an insignificant past event, but I can’t remember what that event was.

Onwards and upwards: My older sister called to commiserate, and she suggested I get some saltine crackers. I walked the three blocks up to the corner store (city blocks are small in New Bedford, but these seemed quite long), and came back with a box of Saltines. It seemed ambitious to eat three, so i took just two out of the box. Oh, they tasted good! My next big culinary adventure will be to make orange-flavored jello — mmm.

Quick check-in

6 April 2009 at 17:32

We did a memorial service for Carol’s mom, Betty Steinfeld, on Saturday. We laughed, we cried, and the best part (as always at these things) was hearing different people’s memories of Betty. The only downside was that I would have liked to have heard a few more stories about Betty’s years growing up on the farm.

As for me, I’m still recovering from the food poisoning, but things are on an upward trend.

Community clinic

7 April 2009 at 17:24

I have new health insurance since the last time I visited the doctor, for some bureaucratic reason that I do not understand. But that meant that I am no longer tied to a primary care physician (whom I never saw) with an office in a suburban office park. I have to say, I never felt I got good care at that suburban medical center. I think they were more interested in building expensive new buildings than in actually providing good patient care.

When I decided I needed to see a doctor this morning, I walked two blocks up the street to the Greater New Bedford Community Health Center. I filled out the preliminary forms, which included the question: “What is your primary language? Check one: English. Portuguese. Cape Verdean/Cruiole. Spanish. French. Other.” I was pretty sure I heard all five of those languages being spoken around me in the bright, busy, slightly messy waiting room.

Everyone was friendly. The woman who set up my account apologized when my insurance company kept her on hold: “Sorry to keep you waiting, hon.” I was shown to an examination room, and sat there for about forty minutes until the doctor arrived. He was the nicest, most humane M.D. from whom I have received care for at least the past decade. He talked with me at length, told me that I probably had a viral infection, that a viral infection with symptoms similar to mine has been going around, that I probably started eating solid food too soon. His manner was reassuring and healing.

The doctor told me to eat only clear broth, jello, and apple juice; just a little as a time. When I feel ready, I’m allowed to graduate to weak tea, rice, mashed potatoes, and other bland food, “but” as the doctor told me, smiling, “with nothing that makes food taste so good.” It may be another week before things settle down.

As I say, it was the friendliest, best, most reassuring health care visit I have had in years. And this was not at a fancy suburban clinic, but at an inner-city clinic which provides free care to anyone who needs it. (Your remarks on the current moral crisis in American health care may be included in the comments below; Marxists, don’t hold back.)

No surprise

7 April 2009 at 20:42

This came in from Mass Equality at 11:38 this morning: “Moments ago, the Vermont Legislature voted to overturn Governor Douglas’s veto and recognize marriage equality for all…. Vermont is the first state to recognize marriage equality through direct legislative initiative. Vermont joins Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Iowa as the fourth state to recognize equal marriage rights.”

Note to self

8 April 2009 at 22:55

Self: Please remember that if you have strained your abdominal muscles from a bout of power-barfing in the past seven days, it is not wise to watch old episodes of the Muppet Show. You will just strain your abdominal muscles all over again from laughing so hard. Especially if you watch the show featuring Carol Burnett.

On the other hand, your overall attitude will improve enormously.

Spring watch

9 April 2009 at 22:26

This viral infection has left me with little energy, and I’ve spent a good bit of time lying on the couch, looking out the windows, and listening to what’s going on around our building.

Several days ago, on one of those gray days we’ve been having, I swore I saw a brief flurry of snow. But it could have been a fever dream.

I’ve been watching the Red Maple across the street come into full bloom. By now it is covered with clusters of tiny little red flowers.

Very early one morning, I listened to a Mourning Dove calling from one of the trees across the street. But I don’t think I have heard him calling since. I’ve also heard House Finches calling most mornings; I suspect they favor the trees along the street where I often park my car, on which they often leave their droppings.

The Herring Gulls are nesting again on our rooftop, and on other nearby rooftops. I can hear our Herring Gulls stomping around up on our roof, and having fights, and squawling at each other. The variety of cries they can make is quite wonderful; even though each different cry is more discordant than the next, you have to be impressed by the inventiveness and loudness. I love to complain about the gulls nesting on our roof — that they are loud, combative, abrupt — but at the same time, when you have energy for nothing more than lying on your back and staring up through the skylights, what could be more entertaining than listening to gulls screeching and squabbling?

When religion goes bad

11 April 2009 at 02:18

He owns influential media outlets, and feeds stories to Rush Limbaugh. He had U.S. elected officials celebrate him in a ceremony held in a U.S. office building in Washington. He has ties to the Bush family. His organizations get government money, and in return he donates heavily to many politicians.

Jerry Falwell? Nope. Sun Myung Moon. Moonies make the fundamentalists look restrained.

Spring watch

13 April 2009 at 19:28

Saturday morning, the first light of the new day brought me awake. I lay on my back, staring up at the skylight over our bed. I could just make out the roofline of the building next door. Everything was quiet — even the Herring Gulls nesting on our roof were quiet for once.

Suddenly, I heard an American Robin start singing: Cheeriup, cheeriee, cheeriup, cheeriee. I quickly sat up and looked at the clock: it was 5:24 EDT. I lay back down wondering when, exactly, that American Robin started singing each morning. Did he begin to sing when the brightness of the sun passed a certain level; in which case, did he begin singing later on days with heavy dark clouds? Or was is simply that he began singing when he awakened, whenever that might be? I had some vague idea of trying to awaken myself each morning just before dawn to time when the robin started singing, but then I fell back asleep and forgot the whole thing until just now.

Gelatin desserts

15 April 2009 at 02:26

My stomach is still pretty queasy from the nasty viral infection I had last week, so I am still eating lots of bland foods. In particular, I am eating lots of gelatin desserts. For those who might be in the same situation, I offer this brief guide to gelatin desserts.

Be careful of Royal brand gelatin desserts: some flavors include aspartame as a sweetener, in addition to sugar. I discovered that aspartame can (how can I put this politely) further inflame the gastro-intestinal tract, leading to unpleasant consequences.

As for Jell-o brand gelatin desserts, stick with the old tried-and-true flavors. Some of the more exotic flavors, like “Berry Blue” and “Black Cherry,” taste chemical-y. Whereas good old orange Jell-o tastes like Tang orange-flavored drink. Actually, come to think of it, Tang tastes chemical-y too, but at least it tastes like chemicals I’m used to tasting.

I will be glad when I can return to eating normal food.

Congee, mmm/

16 April 2009 at 00:05

Through an interesting chain of circumstance, today I wound up meeting my cousin Nancy in Boston. It was lunchtime, and we were both hungry. We talked about where we might have lunch, and I mentioned that my stomach is still feeling queasy and all I really wanted to eat was some nice white rice and soft vegetables. Nancy, who is a fluent Chinese speaker and who worked in the Chinese community in Boston twenty years ago, said, “I know just what you need. Come on.”

So we walked down to Chinatown, and then walked around looking at restaurants. When we got to the Windsor Dim Sum Cafe on Tyler Street, Nancy said, “Here, let’s try this one. See in the window?” She pointed to a neon sign with Chinese characters and the word “Congee” in Roman letters. “They have congee here.”

We went inside. Nancy ordered various dim sum dishes for herself, and chicken congee for me. It turns out that congee is white rice made with eight or ten parts of water to one part rice, and cooked slowly for an hour or more. The end result is a warm, comforting rice porridge. The chicken congee had chicken broth and bits of chicken in it. “Comfort food,” said Nancy, “people eat it when they’re sick, too.” I liked the chicken congee so much I ordered a bowl of plain rice congee. My stomach felt much better afterwards.

Now I shall have to try to make congee on my own. I found this recipe for basic congee on a software devceloper’s blog.

Spring watch

17 April 2009 at 01:52

My younger sister called me early this evening to say hello.

“I’m outside trying to find the robin that’s been singing,” I said. Abby knows that I’m a birder, so she did not find this statement to be unusual. “I keep hearing him in the mornings, and I want to see if I can see him. And there he is!”

I finally saw him high up in a tall tree’s branches, his red-orange breast lit up with the reddish light of the setting sun.

“Good Lord, I can hear him, too,” said Abby over the phone. “That’s one loud robin.”

“Yeah, he is,” I said. “He’s way up in this tree that’s right next to the Seaman’s Bethel.” Then to be polite, I deliberately walked away from the robin’s tree, and had a nice long chat with Abby. Tomorrow I’ll go back and see if I can see his mate, and their nest — surely there must be a nest. It would be quite something to find a robin’s nest in the middle of the city.

Comment spam

17 April 2009 at 23:18

I have been seeing a sudden increase in comment spam. (Apparently other bloggers are seeing this increase as well.) I strengthened spam barriers, and so far my spam protection is holding up pretty well. However, you may find that a legitimate comment gets caught by my spam filters — if you think this has happened to one of your comments, please let me know via email.

American Left with a sense of humor?

20 April 2009 at 00:23

I’ve been reading The American Left in the Twentieth Century by the historian John P. Diggins. Published in 1973, the book covers the three main leftist movements in America from 1900 to 1973: the “Lyrical Left” of the teens, the “Old Left” of the thirties, and the “New Left” of the sixties. Each of these movements ended badly: the Lyrical Left was crushed upon America’s entry into the First World War; the Old Left began to die during the Second World War, and then was destroyed by the McCarthy witch-hunts of the late forties and fifties; and the New Left fell apart after 1968 due to internal factionalism and ineffectiveness, and external repression. Here’s a depressing thought: since there hasn’t been an American Left movement since 1968 (sorry, folks, but Barack Obama is Center-Right), you wouldn’t have to add much to make The American Left in the Twentieth Century cover the rest of the century.

My favorite American leftist movement has to be the Lyrical Left of the teens. They actually had a sense of humor. The only leftist movement that I knew personally was the remains of the New Left, and Lord knows they were mostly a humorless bunch. I guess that’s why I’ve always assumed that to be a Leftist, you had to be overly serious and inflexible, which would explain my extreme unwillingness to join any American Leftist organization, even though I’m a Leftist myself. But one of the primary publications of the Lyrical Left, a periodical called The Masses, said this on its masthead: “A magazine with a sense of humor and no respect for the respectable: frank, arrogant, impertinent, searching for the true causes: a magazine directed against rigidity and dogma wherever it is found…” Historian Diggins writes, “Free from doctrinal strains, The Masses gave radicalism a well-needed lift of laughter.”

Like American religion, most American leftist politics is rigid and humorless. So imagine that, if you can: an American Left with an actual sense of humor. Those were the days.

A tale of April 19, 1775

21 April 2009 at 04:24

Today is Patriots Day, a legal holiday in Massachusetts commemorating the Battle of Lexington and Concord, which is popularly held to be the first battle in the American Revolution. I used to be a licensed tourist guide in Concord, and I delighted in helping people get past the myths that have grown up around April 19, 1775: so I would help people understand that Paul Revere never made it to Concord (he was captured by the British in Lincoln); that there weren’t any Minutemen on Lexington Green but rather the Lexington Militia; and that nobody said “The British are coming!” because on April 19, 1775, the colonials had not yet declared themselves to be a separate country and still probably thought of themselves as British.

One of my favorite myth-busting stories told how there wasn’t a firm line between the colonial soldiers and His Majesty’s troops. By April 22, 1850, Amos Baker, the sole survivor of the Battle at the North Bridge in Concord told a story of how one of those who had gathered with the Minutemen and Militia companies in Concord decided before the battle that he just wasn’t going to fight. Here’s the story in Baker’s own words:

“Before the fighting begun, when we were on the hill, James Nichols, of Lincoln, who was an Englishman, and a droll fellow, and a fine singer, said, ‘If any of you will hold my gun, I will go down and talk to them.’ Some of them held his gun, and he went down alone to the British soldiers at the bridge and talked to them some time. Then he came back and took his gun and said he was going home, and went off before the fighting. Afterwards he enlisted to go to Dorchester and there deserted to the British, and I never heard of him again.”

Thus, contrary to myth, some of the colonial Minutemen and Militiamen had doubts about what they were doing — and at least one of them, James Nichols, acted upon those doubts.

Baker’s story comes from “The affidavit of Amos Baker, of Lincoln, given April 22d, 1850; he being the sole survivor of the men who were present at the North Bridge, at Concord, on the 19th of April, 1775, and the only man living who bore arms that day” (reprinted as an appendix to An oration delivered at Concord: on the celebration of the seventy-fifth anniversary of the events of April 19, 1775 by Robert Rantoul [Boston: Commonwealth of Massachusetts, 1850], pp. 134-135).

News

22 April 2009 at 23:44

I have neglected to announce some news here on this blog (the death of Carol’s mom tended to make everything else seem far less significant). Probably the best thing to do is to give you the text of the letter I sent out to the congregation here in New Bedford:

2 April 2009

Dear friends,

I am writing this letter to you to inform you that I am resigning as minister of First Unitarian Church in New Bedford effective 31 July 2009. I have accepted an offer to become the Assistant Minister of Religious Education at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto, California.

I have valued serving as the minister of the church here in New Bedford. I have decided to take on this new ministerial challenge because the time seemed right. No less important, living in a larger metropolitan area will provide more employment opportunities for my spouse, Carol.

Serving here in New Bedford has been a rich and satisfying ministry for me. I am glad to have been minister here with you, and I will look forward to hearing of the continued upward progress of this congregation.

Yours truly, [signed]

Funding models for nonprofits

24 April 2009 at 02:21

The spring, 2009, issue of Stanford Social Innovation Review has a good article on non-profit funding models, titled “Ten Nonprofit Funding Models.” The authors, William Foster, Peter Kim, and Barbara Christiansen, note that while for-profit businesses have well-established short-hand terms to name various business models (e.g., “low-cost provider,” or “the razor and the razor blade”), nonprofits tend to be less explicit about where their money comes from. But the authors believe we should be explicit about where our money comes from, so they define ten different non-profit funding models.

For those of us who work with churches, only one of these funding models applies — we use the “Member Motivator” model:

“There are some nonprofits, such as Saddleback Church, that rely on individual donations and use a funding model we call Member Motivator. These individuals (who are members of the nonprofit) donate money because the issue is integral to their everyday life and is something from which they draw a collective benefit. Nonprofits using the Member Motivator funding model do not create the rationale for group activity, but instead connect with members (and donors) by offering or supporting activities that they already seek. These organizations are often involved in religion, the environment, or arts, culture, and the humanities….”

In other words, churches use pretty much the same funding model as National Public Radio and the National Wild Turkey Foundation.

The authors go on to note that the Member Motivator funding model has the richest mixture of tactical tools available to it of any nonprofit funding model. Tactical tools include: membership, fees, special events, and major gifts. Another advantage of the Member Motivator model is that you are tapping into an inherent and already-existing collective community for fundraising — much easier than writing grants.

Certainly an interesting article, and worth reading if you can get your hands on a copy of the magazine. Update 24 April: In the comments, Eclectic Cleric points out you can access an abridged version of the article at the SSIR Web site. If you can’t get the full version, the abridged version is definitely worth reading.

Spring watch

25 April 2009 at 02:18

we both had to work today, but at sunset Carol and I took a walk along the waterfront. The air was warm, and a light breeze blew out of the southwest. We were standing out at the end of State Pier when I saw a swallow whiz by.

“Hey, that’s a swallow,” I said, interrupting something Carol was saying. “I think maybe it was a Barn Swallow.” I thought I had seen a yellowish color, but it might have been an effect of the setting sun.

“I told you, I saw lots of swallows flying around the bridge,” she said.

“You didn’t tell me that,” I said. Actually, she probably did tell me, but I wasn’t listening when she did. “You mean the swing span bridge over at Fish Island?”

“Yes,” she said.

We walked back along State Pier towards where the Cuttyhunk Ferry is berthed, when I saw the swallow again. It gave a funny buzzy sort of call. Then I saw it had a brown back and a dark throat. “Hey, that’s a Rough-winged Swallow,” I said. “And there’s another one.”

We watched the swallows as the swooped in among the fishing boats, obviously catching insects. Then they would sit for a moment — on the deck railing of a boat, on a rope tying one fishing boat to another, and, once, clinging to an outlet hole for a bilge pump on the side of a boat. Then they would be off flying again, doing amazing aerobatics as they swooped in among the boats and low to the water.

“Seeing the first swallow of spring is good luck,” I said. Actually I’d never heard of such a superstition before, but I said it anyway because seeing those swallows made me feel good.

Ideas from a folk festival

26 April 2009 at 04:29

Ted and I spent twelve hours at the New England Folk Festival today. Ted has been running our church’s children’s choir, and I’ve been running our church’s folk choir, and we were both looking for new music (or maybe new approaches to old music) that we could introduce to our church.

Here are five things I brought home from the festival:

(1) You can sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” as a round, and it sounds pretty good (see below for details).

(2) Several performers yesterday sang Stephen Foster’s “Hard Times Come Again No More,” obviously in response to the current economic downturn. Our folk choir might be swayed by the Zeitgeist, and add “Hard Times” to our repertoire. (“Hard Times” sheet music here.)

(3,4) I heard two songs that have some potential for liberal religious worship services: “Take My Hand” by Ben Tousley, and “Gentle Hands” by Ellen Schmidt. Both songs might need a verse dropped or other minor tweaking, but both songs would fit in with many Unitarian Universalist worship services.

(5) The best one-liner came from Ken Mattson, whom I know from Unitarian Universalist conferences (as well as shape note singing and dulcimer festivals). During a singing workshop that he was co-leading, someone in the audience went on a little too long with an obscure question about Stan Rogers. After about three minutes of this, Ken gave a big smile, and said, “We’re losing valuable singing time here.” What a great line for getting a workshop — or a rehearsal — back on track.

To sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” as a round…

Split into two groups. Group One sings: “Somewhere over the rainbow…” and Group Two comes in with “Somewhere…” as Group One sings “…way up high….” After Group One finishes “…that you dare to dream really do come true,” they stop singing until Group Two finishes that phrase.

Then both groups sing the bridge together in unison (“Someday I’ll wish upon a star… that’s where you’ll find me.”)

Then Group One sings “Somewhere over the rainbow…” and Group Two comes in when Group One sings “…bluebirds fly….” After Group One sings “Why, oh why, can’t I?” they stop singing until Group Two finishes that phrase.

Then both groups sing the tag in unison: “If happy little bluebirds fly….”

Spring watch

27 April 2009 at 00:37

The temperature hit 87 in New Bedford today — unheard of for April. As I was leaving church this afternoon after a poetry reading, Laurie was getting into her car, which was parked right next to my car.

“So what do you think?” she said. “Is this a result of global warming?”

“Well,” I said, “I’m no climate scientist, so I don’t think I’m qualified to make a definitive statement….” I nattered on for a while.

“Oh, but with all your wisdom, you must have some opinion,” she said, smiling and interrupting me.

“Well, obviously it’s global climate change,” I said. “We don’t get days like this in April.”

“I think so, too,” she said. Then we both got into our hot cars, started up the engines, and drove off under the hot, bright April sunshine.

Spring watch

29 April 2009 at 02:48

When I got to the church this morning, I was already feeling slow and groggy. I said hello to Linda, the church administrator, then said, “How are your allergies this morning?”

“Horrible!” she said. “It feels like there’s a little man in there (she pointed to her sinuses) trying to push my eyeballs out.”

“It’s really bad, isn’t it?” I said. “I can barely breathe.”

“It was those two warm days,” she said. “Every tree decided it’s the time to get rid of their pollen all at once.”

Warm spring days may be nice and all — but right now I’m longing for a nice cold snap, followed by a cold, heavy rain.

Swine flu? Common sense/

30 April 2009 at 02:46

The BBC reports today that the World Health Organization has raised the alert concerning swine flu to just under pandemic level. That means that there has been person-to-person spread of the flu in at least two countries. Now I’m a minister, not a health care professional, and obviously I’m not qualified to give medical advice. But churches have long been places where common sense public health advice has been distributed, and after reading qualified sources (on and off the Web), let me remind you of a few things you already know:

(1) Be scrupulous about washing your hands. Wash your hands before you eat. Wash your hands before you touch your eyes, nose, or mouth. Flu is one of those diseases that is easy to pick up on your hands, and if you don’t wash your hands you can deposit the virus right into places where it can easily infect you.

(2) You remember how to wash your hands, right? As a religious educator, this is what I’d tell kids: Wash your hands under running water, use soap, and don’t forget to wash your wrists, the backs of your hands, and between your fingers. When you start washing your hands, start singing the A-B-C song (slowly), and don’t stop washing until you get to the very end of the song — that’s how long it should take you to wash your hands.

(3) Get plenty of sleep, drink an appropriate amount of fluids, eat well, and exercise regularly. The better your health now, the less likely you will come down with the flu later.

(4) If you become ill, stay home from work or school. You’ll recover more quickly, and you won’t transmit your illness to others. And if you’re ill, or someone in your family is ill, please don’t come to church, OK?

(5) What about all those scary news stories about how a flu pandemic has the potential of shutting down the economy, so that you won’t be able to get food? I don’t know how to judge the accuracy of those news stories, but I do know that it’s plain common sense to have a couple of weeks’ worth of food and water on hand in case of emergency. Here in New England, we have to worry about the occasional blizzard, ice storm, or hurricane, and keeping some canned goods and bottled water on hand is just plain common sense. (Oh, and you always keep more than half a tank of gas in your car, just in case the power goes out and you can’t pump gas, right?)

All the above are standard public health precautions, or standard emergency preparedness precautions — in other words, these are all things you should be doing anyway. Obviously, if a swine flu pandemic does occur, it may pose unique and special problems that I am not qualified to address. And if you have better information about standard public health precautions, or standard emergency preparedness precautions, let us all know in the comments. But in any case, it won’t hurt you to follow the above common sense procedures, and it’s not a bad idea to use your church as a communications hub where you can let others know about all this.

Goodbye, April. Hello, May.

1 May 2009 at 01:40

The month of April was a little too full of events. Carol’s mom a month and a day ago, and we had her memorial service in early April. I resigned from the New Bedford church at the beginning of the month, in order to become the minister of religious education at the Palo Alto, Calif., church. I came down with a nasty gastro-intestinal virus from which it has taken me weeks to recover.

It is my firm belief that no month should contain more than one big life event. I’m looking forward to May, in the hope that it will contain no big life events.

Eternal truth

3 May 2009 at 03:06

Is there such a thing as eternal truth? If so, what can be said about it? Here are three possible answers to these questions, which I just happened to run across in the past couple of days.

The first answer comes from a biography of the mathematician Paul Erds (pronounced “air-dish” — and actually there are two little marks over the “o” but I can’t reproduce the Hungarian alphabet on this blog). You will need to know that Erdos, an agnostic, often referred to God as “SF,” which stood for “Supreme Fascist.”

“There’s an old debate,” Erdos said, “about whether you create methematics or just discover it. In other words, are the truths already there, even if we don’t yet know them? If you believe in God, the answer is obvious. Mathematical truths are there in the SF’s mind, and you just rediscover them….

“I’m not qualified to say whether or not God exists,” Erdos said. “I kind of doubt he does. Nevertheless, I’m always saying that the SF has this transfinite Book — transfinite being a concept in mathematics that is larger than infinite — that contain the best proofs of all mathematical theorems, proofs that are elegant and perfect.” The strongest compliment Erdos gave to a colleague’s work was to say, “It’s straight from the Book.” [from The Man Who Loved Only Numbers, by Paul Hoffman, p. 26.]

The second answer comes from Ned Rorem. Rorem is one of our best living American composers, as well as a diarist and writer of memoirs.

Ninety-nine percent of the globe thrives without art. Maybe, after all, art doesn’t last forever. No symphony, no ballet, not even a painting can withstand a generation without being reinterpreted, and finally growing out of fashion like an old song…. Virgil [Thompson] used to say, fifty years ago when the craving for ‘authenticity’ in pre-Bach performances was already avid, that we have reached a point where we can turn a searchlight onto the music of the past, illuminating every dusty cornerful of neumes and mordents and dynamics and metronomic tempos, and reproduce the formal sounds precisely as when they were created. Indeed, we know everything about that music except the essential: what it meant to those who first heard it. How can we in a godless time purport to listen as true believers listened? [from Rorem’s memoir Knowing When To Stop.]

Finally, here’s the classic answer for Unitarian Universalists, straight from the horse’s mouth — that is, straight from the grand old Transcendentalist, Henry David Thoreau:

With a little more deliberation in the choice of our pursuits, all of us would perhaps become essentially students and observers. In accumulating property for ourselves or our posterity, in founding a family or a state, or acquiring fame even, we are mortal; but in dealing with truth we are immortal, and need fear no change or accident. The oldest Egyptian or Hindu philosopher raised a corner of the veil from the statue of the divinity; and still the trembling robe remains raised, and I gaze upon as fresh a glory as that first vision, since it was I in the ancient philosopher that was then so bold, and it is that ancient philosopher in me that now reviews the vision. No dust has settled on that robe; no time has elapsed since that divinity was revealed. That time which we really improve, or which is improvable, is neither past, present, nor future. [from chapter 6 of Walden.]

Which answer do you prefer? Or do you have your own answer to the question, Is there such a thing as eternal truth?

Not this year

3 May 2009 at 16:11

A couple of Devoted Readers have asked if the Herring Gulls are nesting on our rooftop again this year (some past posts on this topic are here, here, and here).

The answer is that no, the gulls are not nesting on our roof this year. The old nest that had been there for three years, re-used every year, is now completely gone, washed away by some of the heavy rain storms we had in late winter and early spring. There are gulls nesting on nearby rooftops, but not on our roof.

In memory: John King

4 May 2009 at 18:20

I just learned that John King, arguably the only classical musician to perform at a virtuoso level on the ‘ukulele, died April 27. His sensibility and technique was that of a classical guitarist, but he also took advantage of some of the unique characteristics of the ‘ukulele: e.g., he played using the Baroque-era campanela style of guitar playing, which requires the re-entrant tuning of the ‘ukulele; he made the short sustain of the ‘ukulele’s individual notes help increase clarity of individual notes while allowing resonant response of open strings to come through; etc.

King may be best known for his adaptations of Bach to the ‘ukulele. But I have been most moved by his arrangements of classical Hawai’ian music. The shimmering, bell-like sounds of King’s playing match the melodies of composers like Miriam Likelike, William Pitt Leleihhoku, Lydia Lili’uokalani, and David Kalakaua. King’s performances sound small and intimate, like the instrument he played, yet they are also informed by King’s distinct musical sensibility. As a fitting way to remember King, here he is in a YouTube performance of Ka Ipo Lei Manu, a song composed by Julia Kapiolani:



Obituary in the San Francisco Chronicle. King’s Web site.

Spring watch

7 May 2009 at 02:41

Suddenly the trees are turning green. It started last week when the branches of the honey locusts that grow along our street began to look faintly green. Today, that faint green has become small leaves, and when the sun came out today for an hour or so, the honey locusts cast fairly good shade. The maples are a few days behind the honey locusts: I’m just beginning to be able to distinguish small leaves on their branches. Where there are trees here in the downtown, the faint green is softening a little of the harshness of the city.

But spring has its unpleasant moments too. The tree pollen has been bad this year, and with all the rain we’ve been having there is lots of mold, so my allergies are acting up and slowing me down.

Then there are the Herring Gulls nesting on the rooftops near us: they stay up late at night, and get up long before daybreak, and squabble and fight with other gulls, and make all manner of weird and unpleasant sounds. Right now, I can hear a gull outside the skylight moaning and crying and chattering, and he has been doing this for an hour now. Now I wish I hadn’t stopped to notice his noises, because I realize that I had effectively blocked him out of my consciousness before, and I have no desire to be aware of him now. Let me concentrate for a moment… there, he’s gone. What gull? I don’t hear any gulls.

Maine did the right thing

7 May 2009 at 03:07

Maine’s governor, John Baldacci, did the right thing today and signed a bill legalizing same-sex marriage in Maine. Like many others, I do hope that Barack Obama was listening when Baldacci said: “In the past, I opposed gay marriage while supporting the idea of civil unions. I have come to believe that this is a question of fairness and of equal protection under the law, and that a civil union is not equal to civil marriage.”

This makes five states that now have legal same-sex marriage. There are something like twenty-five states that have outlawed same-sex marriage. However, since younger voters increasingly favor legalizing same-sex marriage, I hope it’s just a matter of time before most of those twenty-five states do the right thing, and alter their laws to allow same-sex marriage.

Defending religious freedom

9 May 2009 at 00:53

Writing on the “On Faith” blog of the Washington Post, Georgetown University professor of government Michael Kessler asserts that the Supreme Court is losing a “big defender of religious freedom” with the impending retirement of David Souter:

Souter may be best known for his razor-sharp majority opinion in the Ten Commandments case McCreary County v. ACLU, 545 U.S. 844 (2005). McCreary County had posted the Ten Commandments, first on its own, then in two subsequent displays with other historical documents, meant to soften the religious intent of the display…. The record was fairly clear that the legislation requiring the displays was originally intended to promote a sectarian endorsement of the Ten Commandments….

Souter’s opinion, besides cutting to the heart of the endorsement problem, argued persuasively on historical grounds that the twin prongs of the First Amendment’s religion clauses — establishment and free exercise — were intended to protect individual religious freedom: “The Framers and the citizens of their time intended not only to protect the integrity of individual conscience in religious matters, but to guard against the civic divisiveness that follows when the Government weighs in on one side of religious debate; nothing does a better job of roiling society.”

Against Justice Scalia’s dissenting view that government could… endorse basic tenets of monotheism, Souter argued that the Founders practiced and required neutrality. Without official neutrality on matters of doctrine, the government becomes embroiled in sectarian disputes, choosing some sectarian positions over others: “We are centuries away from the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre and the treatment of heretics in early Massachusetts, but the divisiveness of religion in current public life is inescapable. This is no time to deny the prudence of understanding the Establishment Clause to require the Government to stay neutral on religious belief, which is reserved for the conscience of the individual.”

It’s worth reading the whole post. And it’s worth reflecting on how Republicans like Souter who live in New England are very different from the Republican “base” in other parts of the country: good solid fiscal conservatives with a strong libertarian streak when it comes to social issues. If you went into most Unitarian churches in New England even forrty years ago, chances are the great majority of the churchgoers would have been Republicans.

Spring watch

11 May 2009 at 03:03

Housework cried out for my attention yesterday morning, and then I drove off to officiate at a wedding in Rhode Island in the afternoon, so I had no time to get outdoors. Fortunately the wedding was at a conference center out in the middle of the woods. It was a two and a half mile drive from the highway along increasingly narrow and winding roads. I kept the car windows down, and listened:
…teakettleteakettleteakettle, that’s a Carolina Wren…
…a little piece of a song, Baltimore Oriole…
…chipchipchipchipchip, Chipping Sparrow….

Then I arrived at the conference center. The wedding was to be outdoors, overlooking a small pond. We did the rehearsal. The wedding got delayed for an hour. It looked like there might be a thundershower at any moment so I didn’t dare go for a walk. I stood on the porch and watched the edge of the pond:
…tiny bird, black with a flash of red: American Restart….
…slightly larger bird on a twig, every few seconds flies out to snag insects: Eastern Kingbird…
…something small and brown, without binoculars there’s no telling….
For those minutes, I was totally focused on birds.

It didn’t rain. At last the wedding started. When you officiate at weddings, you’re presiding over twenty minutes that are very important minutes to at least two people, so I become very focused on the ceremony. And at this wedding, there was another Unitarian Universalist minister in attendance, someone whom I respect and who has very high standards, which increased the intensity of my focus even more. Yet I couldn’t quite turn off my earlier focus on birds. During the prayer I heard a buzzy pee-a-wee pee-a-wee, and I thought: Eastern Wood Peewee. It wasn’t a distraction, I was just doubly focused.

In the middle of the vows, off in the distance, some flute-like notes; was that a Wood Thrush? (the song of a Wood Thrush is one of those few sounds that truly thrill me to my marrow). “Please repeat after me….” It was a Wood Thrush. A little thrill passed down my spine, and the superstitious side of me thought: This must be a good omen; this marriage is going to be blessed. No focus on my part, no professional critique by another minister, no amount of preparation, will ever equal the importance of the glorious song of one small drab brown bird.

The race for UUA president

14 May 2009 at 01:29

Here’s a conversation that I have had several times (in slightly different forms) in the past few weeks:

“So, who are you supporting for the next UUA [Unitarian Universalist Association] president?” someone says to me.

“Well,” I say, “I’m not supporting either one, but I think I know who I’ll vote for.”

“I feel the same way,” says the other person. “I can’t say I’m supporting anyone….”

“So who are you going to vote for?” I say.

“I’m going to vote for Laurel Hallman,” says the other person, “not because I think she’s any better than Peter Morales — i don’t think that — but because I think it’s time for a woman to be UUA president.”

“I’m going to vote for Peter Morales,” I say, “not because I think he’s any better than Laurel Hallman — he’s not — but because I think it’s time for a UUA president who is not the choice of the UUA power elite.”

We sit in silence for a moment or two.

I break the silence: “It really is past time for a woman.”

The other person says almost simultaneously: “We really do need someone who is not part of the UUA power elite.”

Then we both agree that both candidates are perfectly capable, that neither one of them would actually change things much, that we both might change our minds before the election, and that neither one of us actually supports either candidate.

———

I have also had the following conversation a few times in the past few weeks.

“So, who are you supporting for the next UUA president?” someone says to me.

“Well,” I say, “I’m not supporting either one, but I think I know who I’ll vote for.”

“Well, I don’t really want to make this public, but I know who I’m supporting,” says the other person.

“So who are you supporting?” I ask.

“I’m supporting Peter Morales,” says the other person, “but I don’t want to go public with my support because Peter has pretty much promised me that he will implement my [insert innovative growth program here]. So I don’t want to come out as supporting him, because if Laurel Hallman gets elected, if it doesn’t come out who I vote for then maybe she will consider my [insert innovative growth program here].”

We sit in silence for a while.

“Too bad it has come to this,” I say.

“Yeah, it’s all about politics and who you know and who you support,” says the other person.

———

There’s an old saying that goes something like this: if the head of a nail sticks up, it will get noticed and hammered down; so don’t be like the head of a nail, don’t do anything to get noticed. It feels to me as though supporting one or the other of the UUA presidential candidates in this election is a good way to get hammered down. I’m not blaming the candidates, but their supporters are so rabid, and they are so insistent on asking you to support one or the other. And after the election I do have the feeling that those who support the winner will be blessed with smiles and maybe favors, while those who support the loser will be cast out away from the denominational center into the wilderness. This is what happened in the last UUA presidential election; why would it not happen once again?

Therefore, I want to avoid UUA presidential politics like the plague. I want to go off and serve in a nice local congregation, and do good things there and in the surrounding community, and nurture my own spiritual life, and spend time with my partner Carol, and enjoy life. Call me chicken, but I support neither UUA presidential candidate — listen carefully — neither one of them.

Update: Responding to a comment below, I’m adding a disclaimer: I don’t think either Peter Morales or Laurel Hallman has a vengeful bone in their bodies — but I know from experience that the system is vengeful, and has a long memory, and does not value those who speak out on the “wrong” side of an issue in denominational politics.

Yet another Universalist: Charles Bierstadt, photographer

15 May 2009 at 02:26

The Universalist Charles Bierstadt was a photographer best known for his stereoscopic views of the American landscape. He was also the brother of the famous painter, Albert Bierstadt.

Charles was born in Prussia in 1819. His parents emigrated to New Bedford in 1831, bringing their three sons with them. Charles was apprenticed to a cabinetmaker when he was fifteen; the apprenticeship lasted six years. He and his brother Edward began experimenting with photography during the 1850s. (1)

Charles and Edward had a woodworking shop together at 147 North Water St., where they specialized in “plain and fancy turning and sawing.” (2) Their shop burned in 1859. At about the same time, Albert Beirstadt, their brother, who had already established himself as an artist, returned from a trip to the Rocky Mountains, where he had, among other things, taken landscape photographs. Albert helped Charles and Edward to establish “Bierstadt Brothers Photographic Gallery.” In 1860, Albert took Charles and Edward on a trip to the White Mountains in New Hampshire, where they took landscape photographs which they later printed and sold. (3)

By 1863, Charles had relocated to Niagra Falls, where he remained in business for many years. A contemporary account said of his Niagra Falls business: “He is an expert in stereoscopic views and has in connection with his manufactory a large bazaar where his views and many relics and curios are displayed to advantage.” (4) Over the years, he undertook a number of extended trips to take photographs, including to Colorado, Yosemite in California, and Yellowstone in Wyoming. His wife Lucy C. Bierstadt filed successfully for separation from Charles in 1898. (5)

Charles Bierstadt became a member of the Universalist Church (but not the Universalist Society) in 1858. He was removed from membership in 1867 because he had permanently left New Bedford. (6) He died in Niagra Falls, New York, in 1903.

Works by Bierstadt in the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Notes:

1. Landmarks of Niagra County, ed. William Pool, Syracuse, New York: D. Mason & Co., 1897, p. 24.
2. 1859 New Bedford Directory.
3. Pioneer Photographers of the Far West: A Biographical Dictionary, 1840-1865, by Peter E. Palmquist and Thomas R. Kailbourn, Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 2000, p. 110.
4. Pool, p. 24.
5. Reports of Cases Heard and Determined in the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, 1898, v. 29, pp. 210ff.
6. Record book of the Universalist Church, bMS 214/1 (2), in the Andover Harvard Theological Library. Oddly, Charles signed the church roll with a pencil rather than a pen, the only person ever to do so.

A UU sculptor

18 May 2009 at 03:03

James C. Toatley (1941-1986) was a sculptor who lived and worked in New Bedford. Toatley had a number of exhibitions and commissions in his short career. The MBTA commissioned a work by Toatley, and his sculpture “Faces in a Crowd” is on display at the Jackson Square Station on the Orange Line in Boston. His sculpture has been exhibited at the New Bedford Art Museum, the Museum of the National Center of Afro-American Artists, and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. (1) The latter exhibit, a group show, was covered by the New York Times, and the Times writer called a sculpture by Toatley “the star of the show”:

“Have you seen ‘Lucy?’” one visitor asked her companion. “Lucy” (1976) is James Toatley’s 191/2 inch bronze sculpture that is endearing enough to make it the star of the show. Here is a robust woman, with no attempt by the artist to disguise her flaws, leaning over an imaginary fence as if carrying on an amiable chat with a neighbor. Her warmth and humanity jump out at the viewer. (2)

Toatley is best known for his sculpture of Lewis Temple, the inventor of the toggle harpoon, a life-size sculpture which presently stands on the lawn of the downtown branch of the New Bedford Public Library. In the sculpture, Lewis Temple is bending forward slightly and looking at a harpoon that he has obviously just been working on; his expression is intent, and quietly triumphant. In this sculpture, Toatley captures a moment of creative success. Toatley also acknowledges the class and race of his subject: Temple wears a working-man’s apron, and he is clearly African American. Thus, the sculpture is more than a simple monument to an African American inventor; it also shows us that genius and inspiration are not restricted by the boundaries of race and class.

Early in his career, Toatley worked as a toy designer for Hasbro toy company of Pawtucket, Rhode Island. (3) He taught sculpture at the University of Massachusetts at Dartmouth, and was the only Black professor in the College of Visual and Performing Arts at the time. The affirmative action officer of the university at that time felt that Toatley was denied tenure due to racial prejudice, and fought the denial of tenure all the way to the university’s board, but was unsuccessful. (4) Toatley married Linda White, they had two children, Peter and Jameliah. He was a member of First Unitarian Church. He died at age 44 in 1986, just before he completed the Lewis Temple monument, and just as he was creating some of his best work.

Notes:

1. African American Visual Artists Database, “Toatley, James C.,” http://aavad.com/artistbibliog.cfm?id=2283, accessed 17 May 2009.
2. Allan R. Gold, “Boston Curator Defends Black Artists’ Exhibition, New York Times, Tuesday, 26 January 1988, p. C16.
3. Robert C. Hayden, African Americans and Cape Verdean Americans in New Bedford, Boston: Select Publications, 1993.
4. John E. Bush, letter to New Bedford Standard-Times, 4 August 1998.

Writing project

20 May 2009 at 04:37

I managed to get myself involved in a big writing project. This project has been sucking up all my free time. Some people would say that this project is a waste of my time, since hardly anyone will read it once it’s done. There are three reasons why hardly anyone will read this writing project:

(1) This writing project is a book of sermons. People don’t read sermons any more, except maybe seminarians, and of course those high school students who have to read Jonathan Edwards’s sermon about dropping spiders into a fire.

(2) Worse yet, all these sermons are about the history of Unitarians and Universalists in New Bedford. No one wants to read sermons about New Bedford Unitarians and Universalists, except a dozen or so New Bedford Unitarian Universalists.

(3) Worst of all, a potential reader will have to pay for these sermons. (Church budgets being what they are, our church can’t afford to print them in-house.) I will publish them on lulu.com and sell them at cost, but most people who read sermons are used to having churches give them away for free.

When I am feeling enthusiastic, I think maybe a dozen people might buy this book. Then I remember that these are sermons with footnotes (yes, I have gone back and footnoted everything), and then I think maybe five people will buy this book, and two of those people will be me.

So why am I doing this? Why am I spending hours and hours writing, and rewriting, and fact-checking, and footnoting, and proofreading? Because it’s fun, that’s why. Some people participate in National Novel Writing Month, and they write novels that no one will ever read. Me, I like to write non-fiction, and do footnotes and a bibliography. Everyone needs a hobby, and so what if some of us have a hobby that involves creating books that no one will ever read.

Spring watch

21 May 2009 at 01:14

I went for a walk just before sunset today: a perfect spring evening, blue sky with a few clouds moving in, scent of lilacs in the air, the trees covered with new leaves.

Partway across the bridge to Pope’s Island there was a juvenile gull on the sidewalk. I thought it must be freshly dead because its eyes had been picked out yet; but then it moved its head slightly when I walked past it. Juvenile gulls are hard to identify, but I’d guess this was a first-year Greater Black-backed Gull.

It was still there when I walked back home. Again, it barely moved its head, cringing slightly, when I walked past. It must be in poor health if it sits on the edge of a sidewalk along a well-traveled four-lane road, and doesn’t even get up to walk away when a human approaches it. They say eighty percent of gulls die within a year of being born, and I’d say that gull was right on track for being part of that eighty percent.

Allergens

24 May 2009 at 02:50

I just got back from visiting a friend in Washington, D.C. Flowers are in bloom everywhere in D.C., it was warm, and the air was full of pollen. Yet I had relatively few problems with allergies.

Then I got back to New Bedford, where it is cool, and not so many things are in bloom. And my allergies got much worse. My allergies have never been worse than while living in New Bedford. I’ve decided that my body does not like the damp, moist climate that you get living right next to the ocean; nor does it like the inevitable mold that you get in the old buildings that make up New Bedford.

I will miss many things about New Bedford when we leave here at the end of July, but I will not miss the allergens.

Spring watch

26 May 2009 at 02:39

Today, Memorial Day, is the unofficial first day of summer. We walked over to Fort Phoenix at about five o’clock this afternoon under a cloudless sky, with cool air and a brisk breeze from the northwest. There were a two or three dozen people fishing along the hurricane barrier. Three children in swim suits played along the small sandy beach between the hurricane barrier and the rocks at the base of Fort Phoenix. As usual in the New Bedford area, we saw skin colors from pale white (me) to quite dark, and everything in between; we heard at least three different languages. There were families with children, and groups of elders. It wasn’t crowded by any means, but there were more people walking around Fort Phoenix than I remember seeing before.

When we walk over to Fort Phoenix in the winter time, sometimes we’ll only see one or two other people — so even though the cool air and brisk breeze felt like late spring, it felt like summer with all those people walking around outdoors. I won’t say that spring is over yet, but it’s getting close.

Research into the first African American Unitarian minister

27 May 2009 at 02:11

Sometimes when you’re doing research, you have to go back to primary sources. I’ve been researching Rev. William Jackson, an African American minister, who had charge of the Salem Baptist Church in New Bedford from 1858-1870. Jackson was an important figure in the history of African American antislavery activism here in New Bedford, which is why I first started paying attention to him. He was also the first known African American minister to proclaim himself a Unitarian to the American Unitarian Association (AUA), and today we would say that he was treated badly by the AUA. But just what do we mean when we say he was treated badly? Here’s what Mark Morrison-Reed says in his superb study Black Pioneers in a White Denomination:

Egbert Ethelred Brown wasn’t the first black minister to proclaim himself a Unitarian and suffer because of it. Our earliest opportunity to spread Unitarianism into the black community came in 1860 when a Rev. Mr. Jackson of New bedford presented himself to the Autumnal Convention of the American Unitarian Association and testified to his conversion to Unitarianism. He went on and “stated the needs of his church, and the Unitarians took a collection, which totaled $49. A few dollars were added to this amount and he was sent on his way.” Douglas Stange reports this happening in his book Patterns of Antislavery among American Unitarians, 1831-1860, and concludes, “No discussion, no welcome, no expression of praise and satisfaction was uttered, that the Unitarian gospel had reach the ‘colored’.” [Mark Morrison-Reed, Black Pioneers in a White Denomination, 3rd ed., Boston: Skinner House, 1994, pp. 183-184.]

So I got Stange’s book. Morrison-Reed is quoting directly from Stange; that is to say, Morrison-Reed accepts Stange’s interpretations of the primary source materials which Stange consulted. This is perfectly adequate for Morrison-Reed’s purposes; Jackson is really a side issue for his book. But I wanted to read Stange, and here’s what he has to say about this event:

But what happened when a white church had the opportunity to wait upon a black [person]? This opportunity actually occurred at the Autumnal Convention in New Bedford in 1860. A Reverend Mr. Jackson, the “colored minister of New Bedford,” intruded upon the Convention to testify to his conversion to Unitarianism. Since he was perhaps the “only colored minister” (and indeed the first black Unitarian minister in America), he requested their kind and patient attention. After he had stated the needs of his church, the Unitarians took a collection, which totaled $49. A few dollars were added to this amount and Mr. Jackson was sent on his way. No discussion, no welcome, no expression of praise and satisfaction was uttered, that the Unitarian gospel had reached the “colored.” In truth, the antislavery forces had lost the battle, perhaps because many of them had never begun to wage it. [Douglas Stange, Patterns of Antislavery among American Unitarians, 1831-1860, Rutherford, New Jersey: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1977, pp. 226-227.]

But here again, Jackson is just a side issue, and Stange actually tells me very little about Jackson (and for what it’s worth, $49 would be about $1,100 in 2007 dollars). So I decided to go back to the primary source material. Stange cites the 20 October 1860 number of the Christian Inquirer, a Unitarian newspaper of the day. The first two pages of the 20 October 1860 issue are pretty much filled up by the long story on the Autumnal Convention. I read through most of it, to get a flavor of the convention. Jackson doesn’t appear until the last day of the three-day convention. To give you a flavor of what the convention was like, here’s what the Christian Inquirer says about the two speakers who precede Jackson, followed by the actual report of Jackson’s appearance:

Rev. Charles Lowe thought that we now had got upon something practical. We are in the way to do something for our [Unitarian] cause. We have made, he thought, a mistake hitherto in our methods of appeal. We have forgotten those among the people who could do but little, and resorted principally to the rich to obtain what we want. This is not the way other sects do, and it is not the way we ought to do. They collect from all, and even if the sums are small, these little rivulets swell the general stream, and a vast volume is poured forth at last. Let us ask all to give; the two mites are as acceptable as well as the rich men’s offerings.

Rev. Alfred P. Putnam, of Roxbury, thought that to do what is desirable we must cultivate the missionary spirit. Other Christian bodies had their monthly missionary meetings. They thus cultivated the spirit of that work. In the late missionary meetings in Boston, what was especially noteworthy was that the action of missions was reflex upon the churches themselves. We should gain a like good from the establishment of such monthly concerts for missions. By such a method of action an unwonted interest might be awakened over the entire Christian body.

Rev. Mr. Jackson, the colored minister of New Bedford, had been converted [to Unitarianism]. He was converted yesterday by the essay. He should preach the Broad Church. He had learned that the religion of Jesus was universal, and gave all the right and privilege of thinking for themselves. As he was perhaps the only colored Unitarian minister, he hoped they would hear from him patiently. He then presented the claims of his church, which was in debt, and desired that some aid might be afforded him to discharge this debt. After some further remarks, a contribution of $49 was taken up, to which more was afterwards added to lift the debt on Mr. Jackson’s church. [Christian Inquirer, 20 October 1860, p. 2.]

The irony is too much: they’re going on about “missionary” work, and then someone pops up to give them a chance to do “missionary” work in the African American community, and they completely drop the ball. So Stange’s interpretation is probably true, but a more nuanced interpretation seems possible.

Now for some background information that might lead to a more nuanced interpretation of the AUA’s treatment of the very first African American Unitarian minister, which I’ll include below the fold.

  • Rev. William Jackson started the Salem Baptist Church in 1857. Jackson’s congregation bought a building that had just been vacated by a short-lived non-denominational liberal church that had started life in 1845 with a Christian Connection minister, and ended life in 1854 with a Unitarian minister. The people in this liberal church were not nearly so wealthy as the people in the rich Unitarian church on Eighth St.; and their denominational affiliation was somewhat ambiguous (though I claim them as Unitarian).
  • This church building stood on Sixth St., just two blocks down from the Unitarian church on Eighth St. (for those of you who live in New Bedford, it stood where Converse Photo is now, right next to the Dunkin Donuts on Sixth and Union). Since the Autumnal Convention of the AUA was held in the Unitarian Church on Eighth St., all Jackson had to do was walk two blocks up the hill.
  • As an abolitionist and sometime conductor on the Underground Railroad, Jackson probably would have known (at least in passing) the several white Unitarians from the Eighth St. church who were abolitionists. One interesting question is whether Jackson knew Rev. John Weiss, an white abolitionist who had been the Unitarian minister at the Eighth St. Unitarian church until 1858, when he left to become the Unitarian minister in Watertown (Mass.).
  • Good documentary evidence exists that would allow substantial further research into Jackson. Jackson left behind a typescript memoir of his life (I have a photocopy) which contains no mention of Unitarianism. Jackson also left behind a journal, which is in the possession of one of his descendants (I have not seen the journal). And there is at least one extant photograph of Jackson.
  • According to the New Bedford Historical Society, which researches the history of people of color in New Bedford, Jackson was converted to Unitarianism by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper. I suspect the documentary evidence for this assertion may be found in Jackson’s journal. Harper did visit New Bedford a number of times to lecture, beginning in 1854.

If you’ve gotten this far, I’ll say one last thing: I’d be happy to communicate with serious researchers (i.e., academics, independent scholars, or grad students) who might want to publish a paper on Jackson and Unitarianism.

UU joke

28 May 2009 at 04:59

So this joke was originally about two rabbis. With some tweaking, it can be a joke about Unitarian Universalists.

These two old Unitarian Universalists had been arguing for years about religion. They were both agnostics, and they would meet once a week, sit on a park bench, and go over the arguments for and against God. They had been meeting like this for fifty years, they had never made any progress in their arguments, but still they kept at it.

Finally, God got sick of hearing these two argue. So one week, God appears in front of their park bench and says, “I can tell you the one logically valid argument for God’s existence, because I’m God.”

“Look, pal,” says one of the old Unitarian Universalists, “I don’t care who you are, go away and don’t spoil our fun.”

More on Rev. William Jackson

28 May 2009 at 19:33

Two days ago, I presented some primary source material on the first African American Unitarian minister, Rev. William Jackson of New Bedford. Today I turned up another primary source that tells about Rev. William Jackson’s appearance before the Autumnal Convention of the American Unitarian Association in October, 1860. The following report is excerpted from a much longer report published in the New Bedford Evening Standard for 11 October 1860, p. 2, and offers significant new information:

Rev. Mr. Jackson, pastor of the Salem Baptist church (colored) [sic] of this city, addressed the Convention saying that he subscribed entirely to the doctrines advanced in the discourses which had been delivered before the body. He avowed himself as a convert to the doctrines of liberal Christianity [i.e., Unitarianism], and should endeavor in the future to advocate those sentiments from his pulpit.

Rev. Mr. Potter, of this city, bore testimony to the character and integrity of Mr. Jackson. He suggested that a collection be taken up in aid of Mr. J’s church, which was somewhat in debt.

The report of the Committee upon the Address to the Unitarians of England was taken from the table [this report was on the subject of antislavery efforts in the U.S.], and after a slight modification it was accepted.

The collection taken up yesterday in aid of Rev. Messrs. Foster and Brown, of Kansas, was announced to be $300; and that in aid of Mr. Jackson’s church to be $49.46.

Here’s the new information:

  • Jackson is reported as saying he listened to the proceedings of the Autumnal Convention, and that he agreed with Unitarian thought.
  • Jackson is reported as saying that he was a “convert” to Unitarianism. Unlike the other account, he does not state that he was converted during the Convention; there is no time attached to his conversion.
  • Jackson pledges to preach Unitarian thought from his own pulpit in the future.
  • According to this report, Jackson did not ask for money himself. Instead, it was William J. Potter, the minister of the existing Unitarian church in the city (then called First Congregational Society; the church in which the Convention met) who asked the Convention to take up a collection to aid Jackson’s church.
  • A more precise amount is is given for the proceeds of the collection for Jackson.
  • There is no mention of any additional money collected, as in the other primary source, although that might be due to the fact that such additional collection might have taken place after the reporter left to write the story.

Like the other primary source, this source contains no report of any welcome from the gathered members of the American Unitarian Association.

William Jackson and the Fugitive Slave Law

1 June 2009 at 02:18

Yeah, I know I’m posting too much about Rev. William Jackson, and some of you will be bored with this post. But there’s a few of us who think Jackson is one of the most interesting people who intersected with mid-19th C. Unitarianism, so I’m going to rick one more post.

When the Fugitive Slave Law was enacted in 1850, Jackson was minister of a Baptist church in Philadelphia. He almost immediately committed civil disobedience, and here’s how told the story years later:

“William Taylor was the first fugitive slave that had been arrested following the passage of this law. Recognizing the ‘Higher Law’ as being in force by Divine Authority and being superior to the Decree of a wicked Judge, and feeling a kindred sympathy with my brother as being bound with him, I felt morally and religiously impelled to strike for his freedom. The whole community had been thrown into the most terrible excitement over the arrest of Tayloer, the fugitive slave. Whereupon I felt myself nerved with moral and physical courage to do my duty, and save a brother man from perpetual and cruel bondage. Hence, as the leader of a band of brave men, we went forth and rescued the prisoner from the clutches of the Marshall. We arrayed him in the attire of a woman, and successfully landed him in a few hours on the shores of Canada, where he found shelter and friends in the city of Toronto. As the leader of the rescuing party, I was duly arrested and incarcerated in the city jail.

“On learning of my imprisonment the colored people immediately assembled themselves together in their Churches, like those of old when Peter was imprisoned, where prayer was offered for my deliverance. A party of my friends and the members of my Church had met at the Parsonage… where they fervently invoked the blessing of God upon their imprisoned pastor, and earnestly prayed for his deliverance. Strange as this remarkable interposition of Providence in answer to the prayer may appear to some, I was soon released from the Jail by a writ of Habeas Corpus from Judge [King] obtained through the efforts of the Rev. Edgar [Levy] of the First Baptist Church, West Philadelphia, and [William W.] Keene and [Major] James M. Linnard, and presented to my people at the very time they were praying for my deliverance. It was certainly the most remarkable coincidence, how God in his mercy seemed to manifest himself in my behalf by putting it in to the hearts of these men to use every effort, at this unusual hour of the night, to secure my release from prison. Though it had been indicated by the officer at the time of my arrest that I should try to get bail, I surrendered myself up at once and made no effort in that direction, for I regarded it as no disgrace to be arrested and imprisoned under this infamous and inhuman law, or for advising my fellow men ‘that if they would be free themselves they must first strike the blow.’  ”

I like the fact that Jackson refused to get bail. It gives a good measure of the man.

All posts on William Jackson.

Broken Rule

1 June 2009 at 02:34

Will Shetterly posted a link to “13 Tips For Actually Getting Some Writing Done.” So I had to go read it.

Here’s the rule I consistently break:

“3. Don’t binge on writing. Staying up all night, not leaving your house for days, abandoning all other priorities in your life — these habits lead to burn-out.”

OK, I don’t stay up all night, and I do leave the house, but I have been putting in way too much time on this book project I’m trying to finish. Thankfully, it’s almost done. It will be done by Friday. Then I will get back to normal. Whatever “normal” is.

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