First Parish Unitarian UniversalistFaithful Spirits
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
November 10, 2002
Canton, Masssachusetts plays a part in the lives of at least two notable “faithful spirits” in our liberal religious tradition. You’ll be hearing about their lives today—believe it or not, there’s a miracle (yes, indeed, folks, a UU miracle!) in one and a tragedy, a real tragedy in the other. And both involve a sandbar.
Canton also plays a role in the life of at least one not-so-faithful notable in UU history. The latter, about whom I have spoken before (so I won’t spend much time on him today), was Orestes Brownson, one of my predecessors in this pulpit. He served only two years, from 1832-1834. I describe him as “not so faithful” because in the 1840’s he abandoned Unitarianism and his political reform work on behalf of the working poor, to convert to Catholicism and become a proponent of “states’ rights.” Not too faithful!
But, before I get to the two notables in our liberal religious tradition with Canton ties who were faithful, let me clear up (once again, for those of you who are new since last I did this) the origins of the name Ballou Channing District. The continent, you see, is divided into areas called “districts” for easier service delivery by the Unitarian Universalist Association and for the development of programs and interconnections between congregations. The District in which our congregation in located, to which we pay dues based on our number of members, and the Board of which I serve as Vice President is the Ballou Channing District, or BCD, for short, comprised of southeast Massachusetts, the Cape and Islands, and Rhode Island.
The District was named for two leading religious leaders, one on the Universalist and the other on the Unitarian side of the family. No Canton connections that I can find.
Hosea Ballou was the single most important theologian on the Universalist side of our tradition. Born in NH in 1771, Ballou was a largely self-educated man of intellectual courage and originality. Starting at age 23, Hosea Ballou served five Universalist congregations, including Second Universalist in Boston, which he served from 1817 to his death in 1852. None, to my knowledge, were in what is now the BCD
Hosea Ballou’s motivating idea was that of God’s benevolence. He was completely convinced that a loving God would not condemn people to eternal punishment, ie hell, as most believed at the time. His was the principle of “universal salvation” or salvation for all. For Ballou, the consequences of sin were the spiritual, psychological, and physical harm to the sinner in this life only. His sermons and his published works, most notably his 1803 Treatise on Atonement, were based on close and careful analysis of biblical passages, challenging the Calvinism of his Baptist upbringing prevalent in New England at the time.
As a contemporary put it, Ballou’s sermons were always and entirely argumentative…So addicted is he to the argumentative, that even his prayers are characterized by it…[and] the Scriptures are his sword and shield.” (The Larger Hope, Russell E. Miller, p. 105).
The following words of Hosea Ballou’s, found in our hymnal as a Benediction, express perhaps how he viewed arguments in the faith community, “If we agree in love, there is no disagreement that can do us any injury, but if we do not [agree in love], no other agreement can do us any good. Let us endeavor to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.”
William Ellery Channing, on the other hand, is viewed as the single most important figure in the history of American Unitarianism (with an upper case U), the Liberal Christian movement that challenged the doctrine of the Trinity, the triune nature of God: Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Also a New Englander, and roughly Ballou’s contemporary, born nine years later than Ballou, Channing was a Harvard graduate and minister of the Federal Street Church in Boston for 39 years until his death in 1842, a decade before Ballou’s death.
Channing, along with other Harvard educated ministers in Congregational churches like First Parish here in Canton, began interpreting the Christian more liberally than their predecessors. They took reason as their guide and they looked to see what Jesus said about himself as differentiated from what the scriptures said about him. These liberals were excoriated by their fellow Congregational ministers. Channing was one of the most vocal in the liberal defense. His 1819 sermon “Unitarian Christianity” launched the movement. In 1825 the American Unitarian Association was formed.
Some congregations were split and began taking votes (“are we Unitarian or Trinitiarian?”). In Canton, those who wanted to remain Trinitarian were a minority and left in 1828 to form a new congregation, built a church on Neponset Street and eventually relocated to across the street, now known as the United Church of Christ.
Those, in a nutshell or two, are the stories of the namesakes of the Ballou Channing District. In explaining it every few years, I hope that more and more of you will avail yourselves of the excellent, if I do say so myself (being vice president!), conferences and leadership development opportunities the Board and staff present every year.
Last year, we sent a delegation of seven to a workshop on the Welcoming Congregation program through which UU congregations educate themselves to welcome gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender members of their communities. The previous year, four or so of our musician folks attended the BCD Music in Worship Conference, scheduled this year for Saturday, March 1st in neighboring N. Easton. Next Saturday, there’s a day-long conference for UU young adults (they define that under 35), at First Unitarian in Providence which is practically on the Brown University campus.
Every year, the BCD has a fall conference on leadership development and a spring conference on spiritual development; any of you can go to these and they’re designed to appeal to a wide range of interests. At lunch and in workshops and during breaks, you get to meet UU’s from other congregations, learn about their successes and troubles, and share ours with them.
Enough about Ballou, Channing, and the Ballou Channing District!
In thinking about who else among the many “faithful spirits” in our liberal religious tradition I might tell you about today, I decided to take a very local and relatively modern approach. I might have gone way back to Origen, the third century Christian who published his views against hell and purgatory and for “universal salvation.” Or, I might gone back to those who were martyred for their unitarian beliefs during the Protestant Reformation, forebears such as Frances David, Michael Servetus, and Katherine Vogel.
Instead, I’ve chosen two Americans: first, John Murray, the first Universalist preacher in America. He’s the one with the miracle. And, secondly, Margaret Fuller, leading feminist Transcendentalist. She’s the one with the tragic story. Each has a Canton connection. And a sandbar!
“The Universalist movement in America began in 1770 when John Murray’s boat from England ran aground at Cranberry Inlet, New Jersey,” writes historian David Robinson [The Unitarians and the Universalists, p. 296-7]. “There he met the farmer Thomas Potter, who had been waiting for God to send a preacher to him with a distinctive message. Murray, he believed, was that man…”
Murray’s distinctive message was Universalism, a decidedly minority view in England at the time. Having been raised in a strict Calvinist family, it is said that he suffered much psychological torment from his fear that he was foreordained to damnation. So, it was with great personal relief that he first heard the Universalist preacher James Relly espouse the idea of a loving God who saves all people not just a chosen few. After several years of study and listening, and despite ostracism from their former friends, he and his wife began preaching the message of a loving God, too. Soon, his one year old son became ill and died, then his wife, and when he couldn’t pay back the money he’d borrowed to pay for their medical care, he landed in debtor’s prison. Upon his release, it seemed to him that the only thing to do was to sail for the new world. Never would he preach again!
But, when Thomas Potter saw that sailing ship run aground on its way to the New York harbor, he thought to himself, “There you go Potter, in that ship may be the preacher you have been so long expecting.”
The captain of the ship sent Murray to shore to find fresh food supplies to hold the crew while they waited for high tide and a change of wind to move them off the sandbar. When Murray pulled his row boat ashore, walked through some woods to a clearing where he saw a house and behind it, to his surprise, a simple little church building. A tall old farmer was cleaning fish in front of his house. That was Potter. He gave Murray fish for the crew and invited him to return to sleep overnight.
That evening, a Friday, sitting by the fire, they talked. Potter, though not educated, had built the little church in hope that someday an itinerant preacher would come through preaching what he wanted to hear: the love of God not the wrath of God. Murray admitted that he too believed in a loving God, but was quick to add that he never intended to preach again. “Tomorrow is Saturday, and as soon as the wind changes, we will be on our way!”
But during the night, the wind didn’t change. Neither did Potter sleep. All through the next day, the wind did not change. But Potter’s mind did, and he agreed to preach on Sunday. And so the story goes that Universalism in America began with a miracle: that the wind did not change, but Murray’s mind did.
John Murray found his voice in Potter’s chapel and from there went on to preach throughout the colonies. In 1774, he preached in Gloucester, Massachusetts where he enjoyed the patronage of a wealthy ship captain, Winthrop Sargent who had read the writings of James Relly. In 1779, they formed America’s first Universalist church there and Murray became its pastor. In 1793, he moved with wife Judith, daughter of Winthrop Sargent, to Boston where he served the First Universalist Church until his death in 1815. Through both pastorates, Murray traveled extensively preaching and spreading the Universalist message.
While Hosea Ballou was Universalism’s first and most important theologian, John Murray was its first and most important preacher. But, wait, have you noticed, I haven’t explained John Murray’s Canton connection!
Many of you who live in Canton will recognize the name General Richard Gridley, for whom the Gridley School is named. He was Canton’s most famous Revolutionary War hero. As Chief Engineer of the Army, he is credited with erecting the fortifications of Bunker Hill (during the Battle of which he was wounded) and then Dorchester Heights, causing the British to evacuate Boston in March of 1776, after which George Washington made Gridley responsible for fortification of all the hills around Boston harbor. The next month, Gridley was ordered by Washington to attend to the fortifications on Cape Ann and protect the Gloucester harbor.
While in Gloucester, Gridley “heard…guess who?… Rev. John Murray preach. The Universalist message appealed to the General and the two men became friends for life. According to Daniel Huntoon’s 1896 History of Canton, “in the deepest trouble of [Gridley’s] life, when his beloved partner—whom he had married before he was of age, and with whom he had enjoyed nearly sixty years of connubial happiness—died, it was to Murray, his friend and spiritual guide, that he looked for comfort and strength.” (p. 373).
Fast forward now, to the end of the war in which Gridley had served meritoriously. In the words of Huntoon again, “It is the year 1783, and the citizens of the town have met in the old church [that would be the predecessor of this building, which was built in 1825] to celebrate the return of peace. From the tower the bell rings forth a merry peal. Flags are flying; guns are booming. Men who have taken part in the dangers of the war greet at the church door their companions-in-arms. Young men and maidens come from far and near to join in the festivities… But when the thanks of the people were to be returned to the veterans of the war, and thanksgiving was to be offered to Almighty God for the success of our arms and the establishment of the Republic, Richard Gridley was uninvited, forced to remain at home and see the great concourse of people pass his house to celebrate the return of a peace to which he had contributed more than any of them. Gridley could not understand this neglect, and inquired of a friend why he had received no invitation to the celebration. His friend reluctantly answered, “Because, General, you are not considered by those [in] charge a Christian.” His friend alluded to the fact that Gridley had become a Universalists in religious belief. The veteran paused a moment, dropped his head upon his breast, and solemnly uttered these words, “I love my God, my country, and my neighbor as myself. If they have any better religion, I should like to know what it is.” (p. 376)
In June 1796, General Gridley died. Enter Reverend John Murray once again. He was the preacher at Gridley’s memorial service, which was attended by thousands of people from far and wide, thus exposing them all to his Universalist message of a loving God and universal salvation for all. Some attendees from Canton were so impressed that they began meeting in homes for discussion and worship in this new religion. Out of those meetings grew the formation of the first Universalist congregation in Canton, originally called the Norfolk Universalist Society. After meeting in schools and large halls for many years, in 1847, they built a church, at the corner of Mechanic and Washington Streets where they thrived.
Over a hundred years, thousands of worship services and hundreds of church suppers (for which the Universalists were famous) later, the Universalist and Unitarian congregations began a shared ministry and then, in 1974, consolidated. The old Universalist meetinghouse was sold, demolished, and a convenience store was built there, now the Canton Market. The bell from its steeple peeled for the last time for on the Bicentennial in 1976, and now is displayed on the First Parish front lawn.
So now you know how it may be said that John Murray, the first and most famous Universalist preacher in America, was the inspiration for the founding of one of the two congregations which precede us today here at First Parish.
Margaret Fuller’s connection with Canton is a family connection. Her mother grew up here in Canton (in a house located in the triangle of land formed by Neponset, Church and Washington Streets where the newly rebuilt Dunkin Donuts is), and met her husband-to-be, the Honorable Timothy Fuller, who was in town on business, at a church service on this spot. Their daughter, Margaret, wrote fondly of her family’s outings from Cambridge where they lived to visit her grandmother in Canton, remembering the rides for her father’s great delight in getting out in the country. [Huntoon, p. 418].
Margaret Fuller must have been a precocious child because as an adult she was bold, adventurous and ahead of her time. She was born in 1810, just as the Unitarian controversy that Channing later flamed was heating up, but by time she was an adult it was the Transcendentalists who were controversial. She was in the thick of them, the leading woman, editor of their magazine, and host of a series of intellectual discussion groups for women in her Boston home. She was the first woman to enter the library at Harvard and in 1844 published a book-length treatise on equal rights for men and women, which even addressed the acceptance of homosexuality as normal, from which our reading this morning came.
That same year, she became the first woman journalist for the New York Daily Tribune, Horace Greeley’s leading newspaper, for which she wrote literary criticism and social reform articles, especially regarding prisons and women’s rights, that appeared on the front page. In 1846, Greeley sent her abroad as one of America’s first foreign correspondents.
Settling in Italy at that time of revolutionary foment, she a Roman nobleman and revolutionary who became her lover and drew her into the fight for freedom. It was initially successful but then overthrown by the French army. The couple, and their new young son, fled to Florence where they worked to settle refugees, and then in 1850 took passage on a ship to New York in hope of a better life together in America.
“However, it was not to be, “ wrote Dan Keleher in the Canton Citzen in 1988, as I have seen corroborated elsewhere. “As the ship approached New York it ran up on a sandbar [sounds familiar!] off Fire Island and after a night of battering by high waves it broke up and was a complete wreck. The body of their child…was cast up on the beach, but the bodies of Margaret and Giovanni Angelo d’Ossoli were never seen again.”
That ship wreck was a tragedy for liberal religion, women’s rights, and American journalism, too. Had the faithful spirit that was Margaret Fuller lived to a ripe old age like Murray, Ballou and Channing…how much wider would our vision today perhaps be?
Let us rise as we are able to sing of the faithful spirits who, “forward through the ages, in unbroken line move at the call divine.” Hymn #114.