How the 18th C. British establishment perceived Unitarians

James Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, described how one “Reverend Mr. Palmer, Fellow of Queen’s College, Cambridge,” dined with Boswell and Johnson in 1781. Boswell appended a footnote with some more information about Palmer:

“This unfortunate person, whose full name was Thomas Fysche Palmer, afterwards went to Dundee, in Scotland, where he officiated as minister to a congregation of the sect who called themselves Unitarians, from a notion that they distinctively worship one God, because they deny the mysterious doctrine of the Trinity. They do not advert that the great body of the Christian Church, in maintaining that mystery, maintain also the Unity of the God-head; the ‘Trinity in Unity! — three persons and one God.’ The Church humbly adores the Divinity as exhibited in the holy Scriptures. The Unitarian sect vainly presumes to comprehend and define the Almighty. Mr. Palmer having heated his mind with political speculations, became so much dissatisfied with our excellent Constitution, as to compose, publish, and circulate writings, which were found to be so seditious and dangerous, that upon being found guilty by a Jury, the Court of Justiciary in Scotland sentenced him to transportation for fourteen years. A loud clamour against this sentence was made by some Members of both Houses of Parliament; but both Houses approved of it by a great majority; and he was conveyed to the settlement for convicts in New South Wales. “

In other words, promoting Unitarianism in late eighteenth century Britain was sometimes considered illegal. Further, you could be sent to the penal colony in Australia for that crime. I guess Unitarianism was perceived as a threat to the establishment — not just to the established Church of England, but to the political establishment as well.

More on land acknowledgements

A recent news story got me thinking about land acknowledgements.

On Friday 15 November, Brown University transferred possession of 255 acres of land in Bristol, Rhode Island, to a preservation trust established by the Pokanoket Indian Tribe. The land was the ancestral home of Metacom, known by English settlers in the 17th century as King Phillip; it was he whom King Phillip’s War was named after. This transfer of land had its origins in a 2017 encampment by people who were descended from the 17th century Pokanoket village.

There are some details that make this land transfer especially interesting.

First, the land is being transferred to a preservation trust, not to a specific tribal entity. The agreement specifically states that the land “shall at all times and in perpetuity provide and maintain access to the lands and waters of the Property to all members of all Tribes historically part of the Pokanoket Nation/Confederacy, and to all members of the Wampanoag Tribe of Gay Head (Aquinnah), the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe, the Assonet Band of the Wampanoag Nation, the Herring Pond Wampanoag Tribe and the Pocasset Tribe of the Pokanoket Nation.”

Second, the Pokanoket Tribe is not recognized by the federal government, nor by the state of Rhode Island. A Providence Journal article from 2017, written right after the 2017 encampment, pointed out that even other Indian tribes don’t necessarily recognize the Pokanoket Indians: “It is not just the U.S. government that doesn’t recognize the Pokanokets. The Narragansett Indian Tribe, the only federally-recognized tribe in Rhode Island, also maintains that the Pokanokets lack any standing under the law.” And other Wampanoag tribes apparently remain skeptical; not surprising, given that the territory claimed by the Pokanokets seems to include some lands currently administered by other Wampanoag groups.

Honestly, this kind of thing should be expected here in southern New England. We have a legacy of four hundred years of erasing Indian presence here. This has been well documented, e.g. in Jean O’Brien’s scholarly book First and Lasting: Writing Indians Out of Existence in New England (Univ. of Minnesota Press, 2010).

But this also raises challenges to Unitarian Universalist congregations in our area who would like to adopt a land acknowledgement. Here in Cohasset, we could offer land acknowledgements to at least three tribal entities. We’re probably in the historic lands of the Massachusett, so perhaps it would make sense to acknowledge the Massachusett Tribe at Ponkapoag, based in Bridgewater. However, there’s another Massachusett group, the Praying Indians of Natick and Ponkapoag, based in Stoughton; and since we’re pretty sure that an Indian woman who became a member of the Cohasset church in 1736 later settled in Natick, maybe it makes sense for us to acknowledge this tribal entity. Or maybe we should acknowledge both. And now that I’ve learned from researching the land transfer initiated by the Pokanoket Tribe that they identify Cohasset as being part of their traditional lands, maybe we should acknowledge them, too.

I suspect many people facing this kind of challenge would simply ignore the current tribal entities, and go with the historic record at the moment of European contact. If we did that here, we’d acknowledge Cohasset belonged to the Massachusett Indians in 1620 (probably; there’s some debate among historians). But in this part of the world, that kind of land acknowledgement can result in writing Indians out of existence, because it glosses over the fact that Indians continued to live on these lands for the past four hundred years, and continue to live here today.

This brings me back to the land transfer that Brown is undertaking. The home of Metacomet has significance for all Indians in southeastern New England. Four hundred years of colonialism make it difficult to know who — which tribal entity — should be the appropriate stewards of the land. Thus the university chose to set up a permanent trust that allows access to more than one tribal entity. This is by no means an ideal solution, but given the history of our region, it does make sense. The university did not try to adjudicate which are the “real” Indians who should have access to the land.

If we’re going to do land acknowledgements, maybe that’s the kind of thing we need to do in our region. We don’t want to erase today’s Indians from the New England landscape. We do want to recognize that descendants of those seventeenth century Indians are still living around here (some of them may even come into our congregations now and again), and they may have their own opinions about whose land it is. Above all, we don’t want to pretend that we get to adjudicate who are the “real” Indians in our area.

Sex ed in poetry

One of the sessions in the Our Whole Lives comprehensive sexuality education curriculum for grades 7-9 involves inviting a couple with a baby to visit the class. The couple tell the teens what it’s like to have a baby in the house. Topics that usually come up include parent sleep deprivation, the sense of tremendous responsibility, and of course how much work it takes.

With that in mind, here’s a poem by William King (1663-1712).

The Beggar Woman

A gentleman in hunting rode astray,
More out of choice, than that he lost his way,
He let his company the Hare pursue,
For he himself had other game in view.
A Beggar by her trade; yet not so mean,
But that her cheeks were fresh, and linen clean.
“Mistress,” quoth he, “and what if we two shou’d
“Retire a little way into the wood?”
      She needed not much courtship to be kind,
He ambles on before, she trots behind;
For little Bobby, to her shoulders bound,
Hinders the gentle dame from ridding ground.
He often ask’d her to expose; but she
Still fear’d the coming of his Company.
Says she, “I know an unfrequented place,
“To the left hand, where we our time may pass,
“And the mean while your horse may find some grass.”
Thither they come, and both the horse secure;
Then thinks the Squire, I have the matter sure.
She’s ask’d to sits: but then excuse is made,
“Sitting,” says she, “’s not usual in my trade
“Should you be rude, and then should throw me down,
“I might perhaps break more backs than my own.”
He smiling cries, “Come, I’ll the knot untie,
And, if you mean the Child’s, we’ll lay it by.”
Says she, “That can’t be done, for then ’twill cry.
“I’d not have us, but chiefly for your sake,
“Discover’d by the hideous noise ’twould make.
“Use is another nature, and ’twould lack
“More than the breast, its custom to the back.”
“Then,” says the Gentleman, “I should be loth
“To come so far and disoblige you both:
“Were the child tied to me, d’ye think ’twould do?”
“Mighty well, Sir! Oh, Lord! if tied to you!”
      With speed incredible to work she goes,
And from her shoulders soon the burthen throws;
Then mounts the infant with a gentle toss
Upon her generous friend, and, like a cross,
The sneet she with a dextrous motion winds,
Till a firm knot the wandering fabrick binds.
      The Gentleman had scarce got time to know
What she was doing; she about to go,
Cries, “Sir, good b’ye; ben’t angry that we part,
“I trust the child to you with all my heart:
“But, ere you get another, ’ten’t amiss
“To try a year or two how you’ll keep this.”

Now you can see why this poem reminded me of a sex ed lesson. The beggar woman just taught the gentleman that there’s more to sex than he knew.

Catchphrase

Recently, I’ve noticed a new catchphrase in mass correspondence that comes from both the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) and the Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association (UUMA). Instead of addressing us recipients as “friends” or “colleagues,” or something similar, some of the people sending us this correspondence address us as “Beloveds.” (And yes, this word always seems to be capitalized.)

I’ve spent most of my career in Unitarian Universalist congregations cleaning up after misconduct by professional staff. Most of that misconduct was sexual misconduct, and most of the people perpetrating sexual misconduct were men. I never heard those perpetrators say “Beloved,” but some of them talked rather freely about how much they “loved” “their” congregations, and “their” congregants. (I’m putting the word “their” between quotation marks because that in my experience that sense of possession was also characteristic of sexual misconductors; and unfortunately, the word “Beloved” also carries connotations of possession.)

Now, I understand the intent behind addressing me as a “Beloved.” At least I think I do. I think the person calling me a “Beloved” intends to include me in a “Beloved Community”? Or maybe they just want to signal that love is at the core of Unitarian Universalism? Actually, I’m not real clear on the intent behind calling me a “Beloved.”

But it creeps me out. Yes I know, maybe I have a little bit of secondary trauma from dealing with a number of religious communities that have been traumatized by sexual misconduct. Yes I know, the word “love” in the English language incorporates a whole range of meanings and I don’t need to interpret that word as necessarily creepy. And yes, OK, maybe I’m being oversensitive.

Even so — when I’m addressed in correspondence as “Beloved,” it does creep me out. Once I hit that word, I find I rarely read any further. It just sounds so yucky, and it stops me dead.

Another anniversary

I was talking with someone I know about the deaths of our respective parents. This person’s parents died four and six years ago, and I got the sense they still feel it fairly strongly. My mother died twenty-five years ago today. I thought I’d feel strongly about the twenty-fifth anniversary my mother’s death, but that hasn’t been the case. Of course I still think about her. But twenty-five years is a long time. She died so long ago now that I don’t really remember what she looked like, I mostly just remember what photographs of her look like. And I don’t really remember what she sounded like, I mostly just remember the one audio recording my younger sister made of her. Then too, she had dementia the last few years of her life, so some of my most vivid memories of her are from that time. So, for example, I remember sitting in my parents’ dining room talking to my mother. She obviously had no idea who I was, but was very polite to me. My father walked by, smiled at her, she smiled back. When he was out of earshot, she turned to me and said, “Who was that man?” That kind of memory is more recent and more vivid than most of my other memories of her. I often feel that my memory is unreliable, and perhaps this is one reason why: the memories I wish were most important, and thus most vivid, often seem to get obscured by other memories.

An anniversary

Thirty years ago this past August, I began working as a director of religious education (DRE) at a Unitarian Universalist congregation. I’ve been working in UU congregations in one capacity or another ever since: as a DRE (twice), an interim religious educator, an interim associate minister, a minister of religious education (twice), and as a parish minister (twice).

Over thirty years and nine congregations, I’ve never seriously considered switching careers. The pay isn’t great (when I moved to Massachusetts, I discovered that I qualified for low and moderate income housing). The job security isn’t all that great (not any more). But I’ve stuck with it, mostly because congregations do a lot of good in the world. For example, research shows that kids who are part of a congregation are less likely to engage in risky behaviors (substance abuse, suicidal ideation, etc.), and are more likely to have good mental health. It’s pretty good having a job where I feel like I’m helping make the world a better place.

But it is kind of odd to think that it’s been thirty years….

Updated curriculum

I just finished an update of an 8-session curriculum (with an additional ninth alternate session) titled “From Long Ago.” This curriculum is based on stories from the old Sophia Fahs book From Long Ago and Many Lands. To avoid some of the biases Fahs had, I went back to the original sources she used, and referred to other translations and sources, to completely rewrite all the stories.

Version 2.0 of the curriculum has now been released — see it here. In addition to cosmetic changes and light editing throughout, I’ve added more illustrations. I also added several stories; version 1 of the curriculum required access to the 1948 Fahs book, but with the addition of these stories, Version 2 is now completely independent of the Fahs book.

I’m planning to release additional over the next few months. These new releases will be numbered as Version 2.x. I’ve already rewritten some other stories from the Fahs book, and am working on new session plans for those stories.

To allow for updates, this is an online-only curriculum for now. Someday if I have time, I may create a print-on-demand version, for those who prefer a hard copy (it’ll be expensive, though, due to the numerous color illustrations).

Website updates

What with the new job two years ago, and moving across the country, and the death of my father-in-law and his wife, and a few other major life events like that, I haven’t had time to properly maintain my main website, my sermon website, or my religious education curriculum website.

For the past month or so, rather than creating new content for this blog I’ve spending my time fixing a multitude of problems on these websites. Mostly I’ve been working on small things, like updating formatting, correcting typos and other errors, etc. — nothing I can point to and say, “look at this cool new stuff” — time-consuming stuff most people won’t notice but which is nonetheless necessary.

A couple of things I worked on that might be worth glancing at:

If I make any other significant progress on these websites, I’ll post an update.