Reading from A Larger Hope, by Russell Miller Pat
Our first reading is excerpted from an account of the early years of John Murray and the Universalists here in Gloucester.
“In February, 1777, 16 members of the First Church of Christ in Gloucester were called upon to give reason why they had absented themselves from services. They had, in fact, been listening to John Murray in various homes. An exchange of correspondence between church officials and the dissenters, lasting for over a year, resulted in their suspension…The result of the suspension was a decision to create their own religious body and to set about providing their own meeting house…Murray, who had disregarded all demands that he leave town, preached for the first time in the new meeting house when it was dedicated on 25 December, 1780…
The assessors of the First Parish Church claimed that members of the dissenting group were still obligated to contribute to the support of the established church. The Universalists denied such an obligation…For three years the members of the Universalist society refused to pay the taxes levied on them for the support of the First Parish…In 1782, certain possessions of members of the group were seized and sold at auction to pay the delinquent taxes. This included articles of silver plate, various English goods, and the anchor of a vessel about to sail. One convert to Universalism, William Pearce, found himself temporarily lodged in the Salem jail for refusing to pay the tax.”
Reflection Confronting Authority Janet
Church was an extremely important part of society back in the 18th century. Most people believed that there was no other way to preserve public morality without organized religion, and the foundation of that morality was established by the promise of “a future state of rewards and punishments.” In other words, it was critical to coerce people to behave by threatening them with damnation. A religious organization that claimed that God was Love and that eternal punishment was not a real threat was seen as dangerous to society as a whole. Such beliefs had to be soundly rejected.
To walk away from your church because you had accepted the heretical belief of universal salvation would be equivalent to an earthquake in your social life; you risked being cast out, suspended, no longer able to share in one of the central aspects of life in a small town. We just heard some of the consequences: the confiscation of property from adherents of this new religion: Universalism. And there was real risk to people’s safety: the Reverend John Murray, this congregation’s founding minister, had rocks thrown at him, and eggs. Somehow, nothing ever struck him, and he would make a humorous remark and keep speaking. From time to time some of you have told me you consider me courageous, but I hold myself up against John Murray’s example, and I wonder.
In reading more deeply about the consequences faced by our congregation’s ancestors, I learned that there was more than just having property confiscated to pay taxes to support First Parish. There would have been severe social consequences as well.
It turns out that there was an equivalent to Twitter back in the 1700’s and 1800’s. People who were angry at others would publish pamphlets in which they took them to task. Here in Gloucester, Epes Sargent, an original Universalist, wrote a 39-page appeal to his fellow townspeople. The members of First Parish responded with a 23-page piece. In it, the First Parish folks had a few things to say about how disruptive and unwelcome John Murray and the Universalists were. Since 1779, it stated, they had had to not only put up with Murray, but the town had been infested with ‘strolling mendicants’ preaching Universalism. “All of this had kept the community ‘in one continual hubbub, to the obstructing of business, the corrupting of the morals of youth especially, and the total destruction of peace and harmony….The First Parish argued that the Universalists had failed to support the established church; that…they were nothing ‘but a mere jumble of detached members.’…Above all, they were being led by a false and dangerous man who was preaching all kinds of heretical ideas.”
In addition to the pamphlet, members of the First Parish issued a manifesto to the citizens of Gloucester, alleging that “Gloucester was ‘moddling on the brink of ruin, owing chiefly, if not entirely, to this Association (of Universalists), headed by this foreigner…this man and his pernicious doctrines have been more damage to this town than the late war.” (from The Larger Hope, by Russell Miller, pp. 24-25.)
Imagine living among your friends and neighbors with things like this being said about you, and having the courage to follow your conscience and your beliefs, no matter what it cost. Imagine not only trying to quietly exist, but fighting back, taking the matter to court, and fighting for the right to worship as their consciences guided them. I admire their courage.
So my dear jumble of detached members, these are your spiritual ancestors, for whom the stakes were high, and the costs higher. Let’s remember their courage and conviction, and how it built this church.
Reading Blessed are the Hungry, Theresa Soto Pat
I know that you are hungry for justice
and sometimes when you fail, it feels like the times
when you open the refrigerator door, look inside and close it, nothing having met your appetite.
But there is always trying again.
There is the fact that just one act is the beginning.
And together we can build another.
The gnawing hunger for a different future
is one that we feed in the present.
Your diligence, your tenacity, your willingness to learn,
not just know, but also do,
hunger shaping how you nourish,
feeding one another with the long spoons of your compassion,
until you’re strong enough
to feed the part of the world that you can reach.
Reflection Confronting Misogyny Janet
On September 13 of this year, a 22-year old Kurdish woman in Iran named Mahsa Amini was arrested in Tehran for wearing her hijab, her headscarf, improperly. She died three days later in police custody. Officials say she died of a heart attack but it’s widely believed that she died of blunt force trauma from a beating.
Since then, Iranians of all genders have taken to the streets to protest. The action began as women publicly removed their hijab and even hacked off their long hair, to protest the strict control of their bodies. Men have also joined the protests, to demand better economic opportunities. Iran’s economy is in terrible condition, and their inflation rate is around 75%. The state has responded forcefully to the protests, and it is estimated, as of a few days ago, that over 240 people have been killed, including children.
In recent years the world has focused its attention on the plight of Afghan women under the repressive rule of the Taliban. Women in Iran have been repressed as well – forced to conform to strict standards for modesty in public, but they have also faced economic repression. Higher education is available to Iranian women and girls. However, while 71% of women have at least some secondary education, only 14% participate in the labor market. (https://foreignpolicy.com/2022/10/14/headscarves-are-not-the-only-thing-women-are-protesting-in-iran/). That rate of employment is about what it is under the Taliban in Afghanistan.
What a waste of potential. Imagine the frustration. Imagine the artificial restrictions on a person’s right to flourish, to learn, to earn an income, to have control of their body. What would you do? What would be the last straw that would finally have you take to the streets, to bare your head, to grab a pair of scissors and cut off your hair while standing on the street?
Imagine yourself with that ‘gnawing hunger for a different future.’
So often in our country we regard public protest as people behaving badly. We tend to be more concerned with protecting property from damage than with the lives of people suddenly willing to rise and to take such risks.
Let’s always remember the hunger driving the protests, that hunger for a different future, and the courage that people display in the face of fear and violence.
