by Mike Roberts, Church Historian

January marks the annual attempt to set resolutions for the new year to come. However, to resolve anything regarding next year is enmeshed with the uncertainty of COVID-19. It is difficult to foresee where any of us might be in just a few months let alone at the end of the calendar year.

Making resolutions is much akin to setting goals. In July of 2005, our Board of Trustees produced a Mission and Vision statement and from this produced a set of goals for the future. How well did we do in accomplishing these “resolutions”?

The Mission and Vision statement announced that:

“We are here because we need each other for our hearts, minds and spirits to grow, because our children need us for their own growth, and because the world needs our action for compassion and justice to grow.

“We are here to celebrate the mystery and wonder of life, to share our joys and sorrows, and to care for each other and for the world at large.

“We are here to welcome people of all beliefs, to value diversity of all types, and to offer a safe place to explore all questions with honesty.

“With the strength that comes from community, we move forward with courage into the future, sharing our principles with an ever-widening circle of people, until the world is infused with the values that are the special aspirations of our faith.”

With this Mission and Vision statement, goals were set to accomplish these ideals. They were:

To nurture community for our personal growth…

— The church must develop an overall volunteer strategy. This could include recruitment, the creation of an inventory of volunteer talents and need, education of volunteers and coordinating, supporting and recognizing volunteers.

— The church must create an environmentally responsible outdoor chapel. This would mean creating in the woods south of the church building, an outdoor area for worship.

To nurture community for our children and youth…

— This could include promoting social and fun activities as well as joint youth activities with other UU churches and community groups. Sleepovers could be held at Heritage. Peer offsite activities could be coordinated and a space or game room for pre-teens could be created.

— Provide regular children’s worship through the adoption of new models of education and worship. A combined worship for the first twenty minutes of the Sunday service could be offered as well as adult and children’s education the hour prior to the service. Children’s worship could be led by adults with themes directed towards the youth.

To nurture community for the world outside Heritage…

— We could speak out on and promote our UU values as they relate to issues of the day by holding events with speakers and doing interviews with media. Topics can include current political, social and economic issues. We could encourage members to write letters to editors and have the minister offer inter-faith prayers at public events.

— We could provide avenues for the involvement of Heritage members, friends and youth in social action, social justice and community based organizations. Examples include volunteering in local organizations, working on war issues, working to repeal the “Defense of Marriage Act” and involvement in environmental groups.

— Encourage the use of Heritage space for meetings and community functions consonant with our own values. We could reach out to appropriate groups. The meeting could be used for meetings of AA, the Literacy Council, and faith communities whose services are held on times other than Sunday mornings. Lectures, concerts and performance art could be offered.

How did we do in accomplishing this vision? We’ll let you decide but it seems our current operation includes many of these admirable goals.

As you look into our murky future and attempt to create your own personal goals for 2021, may the new year bring smiles, hope and a sunny optimism about what the upcoming year holds for you and your Heritage family.

by Forrest Brandt

In May of 2017, I was driving around various WWi Battlegrounds in Belgium and France. Paschendale, the Somme, and the Marne were all clearly marked by a string of road signs that made them easy to locate. It was while traveling back from the battlefield of Vimy Ridge and the monument to the Canadian troops who fought there that I spotted a small road sign. I remembered enough of my high school French to pick out “Des Fraternisations” and deduce that this was marking the way to one of the several spots where British, French and German troops called their own armistice for Christmas of 1914.

These troops had been fighting since August and the trenches of each side stretched in one continuous line from the Ostende, Belgium in the west to the Swiss border in the east. The forces had suffered close to 3 million casualties and 400,000 dead in the five months of fighting. Propaganda on both sides painted the opponents as evil monsters, out to ruin civilization. Despite the sophistication of the weapons – rifled artillery, machine guns, rapid fire rifles, mines, and mortars – the fighting had often been at close quarters. There was no love to be lost between the two camps and between battles each side made life miserable for the other with artillery duels, raids, and snipers.

But something stirred within the troops of both sides as Christmas neared. While the high-ranking officers planned future battles, the enlisted soldiers, the non-commissioned officers, and junior officers who made up the front lines began to see the humanity in their enemy. The troops – not the commanders, not the politicians, not the diplomats – spent the week of Christmas communicating across no-mans-land. Out of this came a truce of sorts, a live-and-let-live attitude in which the troops allowed each side time to gather their dead and wounded. This expanded to visits between the trenches, exchanging and sharing of rations, wine, beer, and tobacco. At nights, the sides took turns singing Christmas carols. In some areas, soccer games broke out. A peace movement began to take form among the men on both sides as they questioned the causes and the purpose for the war.

Word began to reach the headquarters. Commanders on both sides became alarmed. Orders went out forbidding further “fraternisations” with the enemy. Units were ordered to attack and in a few cases artillery was ordered to fire into the meeting grounds, forcing the troops of both sides to retreat to their trenches. Investigations began to identify the leaders and organizers of the peace movement, followed by courts martial trials and punishments.

The common men, summoned to fight, suffer, and die, went on with their peace movement throughout the war. Both sides would see mutinies and rebellions before the war ended. Some Christmas truces came about in 1915, but by 1916 the level of fighting and the demonization of the “other” had become so intense that such truces became a rarity.

I mentioned that the sign I spotted was small. It was not on a major highway, more like a two-lane road between farms and small towns and villages. Unlike the signs guiding tourists to the major memorials and battlefields, it was written in French only. The 12-kilometer drive quickly tuned into 16 as the road forked left and right and no additional signs pointed me in the right direction. I finally flagged a postman and a funny conversation involving my few French verbs and nouns, his equal understanding of English, and lots of hand gestures ensued. He made me a crude map and I eventually reached my target.

The memorial was anything but grand. It had been created and dedicated in 2014, one hundred years after the truce took place. Less than fifty yards away was a large French military cemetery, probably containing the graves of many of the men who celebrated Christmas here. As I drove back to my hotel, I thought about the differences between the battlefield at Vimy Ridge and its magnificent memorial and Des Fraternisations. I considered how well the route was marked, the effort put into recreating the trenches, the modern museum and information program and compared it with afterthought shown at Des Fraternisations. Someone, actually lots of someones, wanted me to see Vimy Ridge, to sense that something important, something honorable, had taken place there. Those same someones didn’t really care if I found the tribute to Christmas and peace. It’s lack of majesty was supposed to tell me that this was something minor, a quirk in the history of World War I, nothing which should make me think of this as sacred and worthy of ceremony.

Posted 12/17/2020.

by Forrest Brandt

Written November 4, the day after the election.

Mumble, mumble, mutiny, mutiny.

Somewhere up in the hereafter (something I don’t believe in) my father is looking down on me and chuckling.

Dad dropped out of high school at age 16 to work as a chauffeur for Dan Huffman, then a real estate giant in Dayton (Huffman’s signs featured the silhouette of an Indian chief’s head, under which was his motto, “If Huffman can’t sell it, give it back to the Indians.”

He married Mom in 32, my sister came along in 35. All of this in the midst of the Depression, and yet they survived, and when he finally got a full-time job (with union wages) on the assembly line at Delco, they prospered.

Then came the war and the sudden need for a second child to evade the draft. I came into the world in February of 1943, too late to keep him out of the army. Off he went to Texas, Seattle, the Aleutians, to Portsmouth, Virginia, to Casablanca. His unit was under alert orders to take part in the invasion of Japan when the war ended.

He came back to the assembly line, bought a small house with a VA loan, took night school courses to finish high school, then a two-year associate’s degree from Sinclair College, all thanks to GI Bill.

As he rose to middle class, he became, in his words, “self-made.” This from a man whose education, career in management, and comfortable house in a “good neighborhood with good schools” was made possible by VA benefits and the GI Bill.

So why is he chuckling? I don’t know how it happened, but I became a tree hugger, a liberal, a dreamer, someone who leans toward the hopeful, toward change, toward “making things better.”

Dad was a rock-ribbed realist. “You can’t make White people want to like and live with Black people,” was his argument against my support of civil rights. “People need to work,” was how he negated my concerns about pollution and the environment. “Those things you want are nice, but how are you going to pay for all the things you want the government to do?” was how he countered my wishes for better schools, job training, fighting hunger, clean air and water, better housing.

He understood that culture runs deep and is difficult to change. “I made it through hard work. Everyone else can do that too if they want to.”

He understood that good schools and parks, clean air and water benefit everyone. But he realized that “People are always going to vote their pocketbook first.”

He would remind me of his “truths” after each election that fell short of my hopes and expectations.

So, today he chuckles as I slump in my chair and read the sad news of this election. “I told you so,” he reminds me.

Well, fine. Enjoy your moment, Dad. But I’m going to continue to be a tree hugger, a liberal, a dreamer.

2020.

by Mike Roberts, Church Historian

Thanksgiving is traditionally a time to show gratitude for the good things that have happened in the previous year. However, at times the trials and tribulations of the year cause us to search deeply to find the good in our lives. The year 2020 has certainly offered such a challenge.

The first Thanksgiving is traditionally thought to have been offered by the Pilgrims as thanks for a bountiful harvest which would get them through the severe winter to come. After that, there were sporadic celebrations of thanks, especially in New England until the Civil War when Lincoln urged the Union to give thanks to God for the effort being put forth to save the country from permanent division. He actually asked for the celebration of two periods of thanks during the year 1863. The first official holiday was established by Ulysses Grant in 1870. While Thanksgiving is in no way a religious holiday, it is usually celebrated by churches in the United States to thank God for the good of the previous year. As published in the order of service from our church on November 22, 1942, during the darkest days of World War II, this passage was offered from David Grayson.

“No holiday in all our calendar is comparable to Thanksgiving. There is not a holiday like it anywhere in the world. It celebrates no battle, no fall of a Bastille, no bank or business holiday, the birthday of no great man, no political revolution, no church ritual. It is the great holiday of common people who have worked all the year and now thank God humbly for good harvests. We are not celebrating Washington or Columbus, or the Declaration of Independence—but just the true and good things, the simple blessings of the soil and the common life. Most holidays are somehow pagan and, if traced back, are rooted in the dull and bloody stories of some old war; but Thanksgiving is the holiday of peace, the celebration of work and the simple life. You must go back to the old Greeks for anything to compare with it; a true folk festival that speaks the poetry of the turn of the seasons, the beauty of seedtime and harvest, the ripe product of the year and the deep, deep connection of all these things to God.”

In 1909 our own minister, A. B. Beresford, was quoted at length in the Cincinnati Enquirer on his thanks for the upturn in American morality. He stated that “Man is now—having mastered the world—turning to the realization of his moral ideals. There is now going forward a revival of righteousness such as the world has never seen. Even amidst our abundant harvests— and for which we are thankful—we are to be even more thankful for the fuller and grander harvest of moral abundance.” Beresford cited as examples the breakup of the Standard Oil Trust, the cleansing of city governments and the newly enacted national pure food act. Reverend Beresford’s comments were somewhat different in the 1917 Thanksgiving service. America had entered World War I and he gave thanks for “arousing the wrath against injustice.” He had been very vocal for several years in support of America entering the war and was thankful the U.S. had taken that step.

Our church was annually involved in a tradition of participating in a Thanksgiving Day service which hosted the liberal churches of Cincinnati. On Thursday, November 28, 1968, St. John’s Unitarian Church hosted the event, which was proclaimed as the 62nd year that such event was held. While the participating churches varied from year to year, Unitarian, Universalist, Jewish and independent liberal churches typically attended. Our own Sunday service held that year to celebrate Thanksgiving was the first such event at Salem Acres.

In 2002, we had survived Y2K but the rumblings of war in the Middle East were on the horizon. That Thanksgiving, Reverend Bill Gupton offered his first Thanksgiving message which he titled, “An Attitude of Gratitude.” He celebrated Thanksgiving Sunday with a look at the meaning of gratitude and an opportunity to share our abundance with others through the UUA “Guest at Your Table” program. In that month’s Heirloom, thanks was given to Jennifer and Patrick for leaving their familiar surroundings and friends to start a new life with us; to Denise Martinez ,our new office manager, for keeping the office running; to Connie Booth for staying on as Choir Director until a new Music Director could be found; to Bob Rush for taking over the Building Committee; and to Bill Gupton for making the leap of faith to come to Heritage.

As we settle into our homes for this year’s holiday, may we all be able to find the good in our lives to celebrate. The turkey and dressing will still taste great even if it is served during a Zoom family gathering.

November 2020.

by Mike Roberts, Church Historian

Are you looking for a safe activity this fall that will not expose you to the COVID virus? How about taking a hike at Spring Grove Cemetery? That may sound like a macabre way to spend a few hours, but take a closer look. First, cemeteries are a very safe place to walk. You encounter few people and even if you do meet up with someone, there is abundant space to steer away from them. You can leave your mask in your pocket. Second, Spring Grove is more than just an accumulation of deceased Cincinnatians. It is a walk through the history of the city. Familiar names are abundant. Just to name a few: Morelein, Pogue, Stanton, Lytle, Taft, Procter, Gamble, Kroger, Longworth, Heimlich, Wurlitzer and that voice from the past, Waite Hoyt. (if you remember Waite Hoyt, you are as old as I am.) Over forty Civil War generals are buried in the cemetery, including “Fighting” Joe Hooker.

But, you will need a map to guide your walk. This cemetery is gigantic. It currently is the second largest cemetery in the United States with over 250,000 entombments. Only a Catholic Cemetery in the Bronx, New York is larger. You can get a map at the visitor center and it includes one mile, two mile and three and a half mile paths that you can tackle. Also, there is a walk highlighted on the cemetery website that takes you to about 50 of the most famous persons in the cemetery as well as some of the architectural wonders that have been erected there. All of these are located in the lower sections. Spring Grove has been designated a National Historic Landmark, one of only seven cemeteries in the U.S. to achieve that designation.

With our church’s commitment to green burial you might also be interested in visiting Spring Grove’s green burial area. It was opened in 2016, and Reverend Bill wrote a piece on this event in the May 2016 Heirloom if you would like to read about it. However, this section sits at the top of the cemetery, a one-and-a-half-mile uphill walk, so you may want to drive up to the site if the walk is too much of a challenge.

This cemetery is also an arboretum and garden extraordinaire. It has many varieties of exotic plants, state champion trees and even a number of trees especially bred for the cemetery, like the Spring Grove Dogwood. Flowers abound and in fall the colors should be astounding.

Since this is a newsletter for our church, there has to be some tie to Heritage. Two of our former ministers are buried here. John Gurley, minister from 1839 to 1842, is in Section 36. Gurley left the ministry to publish and edit the local Universalist newspaper, later served in Congress, became a general in the Union Army and was appointed by Abraham Lincoln as the first governor of the Arizona Territory. Sadly, he died of a burst appendix before he could head west to serve in Arizona.

Isaac Williamson is buried in Section 110. He served as our minister from 1854 to 1857 but also had many short stints as an interim minister. He was perhaps the most published writer on Universalist issues in his day and also served as a national officer in the International Order of Odd Fellows. He is buried next to Reverend John Cantwell another Universalist minister who never served permanently in our church but occupied the pulpit as a guest minister on many occasions.

A number of former members of our church are buried in Spring Grove, most prominently the Crosleys who rest in peace in Section 117.

There is also a good chance that relatives of yours might be buried in the cemetery. You can check through the cemetery website which has a search tool to find burials and also an excellent location system so you can easily find the correct grave site.

While a walk amidst 250,000 deceased persons might seem depressing, these people are still alive with stories to be told of their accomplishments, their highs and their lows. Many of those stories involve the history of our hometown from its beginnings to the present day. As you walk around the cemetery, listen for their tales.

September 19, 2020.

by Mike Roberts, Church Historian

During the past five months of the COVID pandemic, reference has frequently been made to the outbreak of flu that wreaked havoc on the world in 1918. Certainly there are similarities to COVID but there are also stark differences.

The 1918 pandemic is often referred to as the Spanish Flu. In reality, the virus did not start in Spain nor was it any worse there than elsewhere. The pandemic was most deadly from a period of September 1918 to January 1919. Those dates saw the end of World War I but during the war, the combatant countries exercised strong censorship of the press. It was believed that if the enemy discovered that flu was decimating a country it would strengthen their adversary’s resolve to keep the fight going. Thus, in the early stages of the pandemic there was little mention of it in the news. Spain, however, had remained neutral in the war and thus, had no censorship. They openly reported what was happening and it appeared to the world that the virus had started there.

The close living conditions of military life made soldiers more susceptible to acquiring the virus. When they returned to their home country, they brought the virus with them and it spread rapidly. Record keeping was not as accurate in 1918 as it is today and estimates of the death toll vary. However, recent studies have suggested that approximately 550,000 Americans succumbed to the disease. Keep in mind that the population of the U.S. was only about 1/3 of what it is today. Twenty million died worldwide.

Of course, 100 years ago the state of medical science was far less advanced than today. Treatment for those who fell ill with the disease was very limited and thus, the mortality rate of those infected was much higher. Instructions to doctors concerning treatment protocols from the Surgeon General of the United States were to encourage bed rest, ventilate the room with fresh air, supply abundant food and seek pain relief with the use of Dover’s powder.

Occasionally, we hear those who monitor COVID speak of a possible second wave of the disease. The flu of 1918 actually had four waves. The first saw only a small number of deaths. The second, however, was the most deadly and occurred in late 1918 and early 1919. A third wave hit in summer of 1919 and caused many deaths and a fourth wave similar to the first ended the pandemic in 1920.

One main difference in the 1918 attack and COVID was the age group it attacked. The preponderance of deaths in 1918-1919 was in the age group of teens to 40. The theory has been that a major flu epidemic swept the world in the late 1880’s and those who were infected developed immunities to the flu of 1918. The younger set had no such protection and thus made up the bulk of the deaths.

What was the response to the 1918 outbreak amongst the nation’s leaders? Little is found in the newspaper articles of the day to indicate that there was much of anything concrete done at the national and state levels. However, in fairness, the country was engaged in trying to end World War I. The Surgeon General made recommendations but some were probably counterproductive. Most of the medical community believed that the disease was passed by people who had not yet shown signs of the illness. Therefore, quarantining was discouraged as ineffective. The only people who were recommended to wear masks were medical personnel working with flu patients. Initially, it was recommended that large gatherings be avoided but early on there was nothing done to officially shut those gatherings down. By the end of October, some Eastern colleges had ceased to play football but some colleges played out their seasons in front of large crowds. Some officials recommended that schools and churches be shut down but initially very few followed those suggestions. In Cincinnati, bars were eventually ordered closed but many of them ignored the order and remained open and crowded. Finally, in October all public gatherings were forbidden by local officials. This included schools and churches.

When radical action such as this was taken, it usually came from local authorities. Mayors and Departments of Health sometimes issued strong orders but in a metropolitan area like Cincinnati that frequently fragmented the effort to stem the virus. Newport was especially strong to act early on and issued many restrictions but Cincinnati was less stringent in their attacks on the virus until October.

The Cincinnati area was also strongly affected by the existence of several large military camps near the city. Camp Sheridan and Fort Thomas saw many troops returning from the European battlefields. They brought the virus with them and then passed it on to residents of the city when they interacted with them. Attempts were made to quarantine ill soldiers but often these efforts did not help because so many who carried the virus were asymptomatic.

What about our own church? In reviewing the Board of Trustees minutes of Fall 1918 there is no mention of the flu. Regular board meetings were held although during this period meetings were only conducted every other month. The major topic discussed at all the meetings was the decision to sell the Robson property that had become a major drain on finances due to its constant need for repair. This property had been willed to the church by a member in the 1850’s.

Our church did abide by the mandated closures but great pressure from the general church community resulted in a reopening of churches in early November. It should be noted that the end of World War I occurred on November 11th and there was a strong desire to give thanks to God for the end of that hideous conflict. In less than a year of fighting in the war, more than 100,000 soldiers from the U. S. died in that war. Also, the holiday season was fast approaching and there was much for which to give thanks and yet much about which to be most concerned. The world at Christmas 1918 was a troubled place. The pandemic still raged. Europe was laid waste from a four-year war of attrition and how to rebuild was an unanswered question. Our minister, Reverend A. B. Beresford, perhaps pondered this in his Christmas sermon. It was entitled “Peace on Earth, Among Men Good Will. Is This a Practical Program for a Practical World?” It would be interesting to know his thoughts on the subject.

In recent articles “From the Archives,” we have explored the life of the founding father of American Universalism, John Murray. His story would not be complete without an exploration of the life of his second wife, Judith Sargent Stevens Murray. Ms. Murray and her family played a critical role in John Murray’s life and in the establishment of Universalism in America. She also could easily be called the first lady of feminism in the history of our country.

Judith Sargent was born on May 5, 1751 in Gloucester, Massachusetts, the first of eight children of Winthrop Sargent and Judith Saunders. Her father’s family was involved in many businesses in the Gloucester area and they were considered to be influential citizens in the community and in the Congregational Church to which they belonged.

Judith displayed at an early age a strong intellect. However, in late 18th century colonial America, formal education was reserved for well-to-do-males. Judith, nonetheless, was composing poetry at age 9 and reading many books from the extensive family library. When her brother, Winthrop, was assigned a tutor to prepare him for entry into Harvard, Judith was allowed to attend these rigorous sessions and accumulated as much knowledge as most of the young men headed off to be educated at America’s first and foremost college.

At age 18 in October of 1769, Judith married John Stevens, a successful ship captain and merchant in the commercial trading business. This did not halt her desire to self-educate as well as to express her opinions through writing. As America went to war with Great Britain, she began to publish essays and articles in Boston magazines. Many of these articles dealt with women’s equality, education for girls and young women and financial independence for women. However, the societal norms of the day required that she publish all her works under pen names to disguise her own gender. These noms de plume included Constantia, The Reaper and The Gleaner.

Unfortunately, the war cost her husband his prosperity. He contributed greatly to the cause of the revolution and used his ships to bring much needed supplies to the colonies. By war’s end he was deeply in debt and was forced to flee the country to escape debtors’ prison. He went to the West Indies where he died leaving Judith a widow. She and her husband had no children.

It was during the post-war period that the Sargent family led its own revolution against the Congregational Church of Gloucester. Along with a number of other families, they eventually withdrew from the church, refused to pay their church taxes and formed their own congregation, calling themselves Universalists. Thus, the Universalist Church of Gloucester became the first in America. The Sargent family role in the establishment of Universalism also resulted in a romantic relationship between Judith and their first minister, John Murray. The two wed on October 6, 1788 in Salem, Massachusetts.

It was slightly over a year later that Judith published her most famous work, an essay “On the Equality of the Sexes”. She had actually written the work in 1779 but the war, her husband’s debt and ultimate death caused it to be put aside. However, she strongly felt that the foundations of a democratic America also included more rights for its female citizens and expounded on this in the essay. This important work was followed by a multitude of other essays, poems, several comedic plays and letters. Judith continued to write until a debilitating stroke felled her husband. The ill health he suffered lasted for years and Judith was consumed in taking care of her husband. She used the time to work on John’s own writing. She edited sermons and essays that he had written and also completed his autobiography after his death.

She and John had two children, a son who died in infancy and a daughter, Julia Maria, who married and moved to Natchez, Mississippi. After John Murray’s death, his widow moved to Natchez to spend the rest of her life with her daughter. She died there on June 9, 1820.

Judith left behind a wealth of work mostly on a subject which was not well appreciated in her day. She left her papers to the Mississippi state archives and they laid there for a century and a half until discovered in the 1980’s. The body of work is still being catalogued and analyzed to properly establish Judith’s place in feminist history. To illustrate the importance of her works, it could be pointed out that David McCullough used excerpts from one of her letters to describe Judith’s observations of John and Abigail Adams. Judith and John Murray visited the Adams couple while the Murrays were honeymooning in 1788. Cokie Roberts also quoted Judith in her book, “Founding Mothers,” describing Judith’s influence on Martha Washington. Roberts makes the point that both Abigail Adams and Mrs. Washington became supporters of greater rights and opportunities for women, and Judith connected with both women on this level. The Adams and Washington families considered the Murrays to be close and rewarding associates.

Judith’s work “On the Equality of the Sexes” has been used by many writers as a manifesto in seeking equal rights for women. She exemplifies so many women of the Universalist faith who have played major roles in their church and in society. They certainly had a worthy early role model in Judith Murray.

by Mike Roberts, Church Historian.

When we left our Universalist founder, John Murray, he had taken a new wife in 1788 and was well into his settled pastorate at the original Universalist Church of America in Gloucester, Massachusetts. In 1789, he composed a letter of congratulations to George Washington on his election to the Presidency of the new United States of America. It was well received by the president and a return letter of thanks to Murray came from Mr. and Mrs. Washington.

However, John Murray was a wanderer, a vagabond, a man who needed to see as much of the world as the limits of 18th century transportation would permit. He made a number of trips in and around Philadelphia and saw it as fertile ground for Universalist ministry. He preached in houses and churches and was invited to move permanently to Philadelphia to start a new church. He was offered over a 1,000 dollars a year in salary and free housing. But, his loyalty to Gloucester caused him to turn it down.

His next venture took him to Boston, a city where he had preached during his early days in America and had met enormous resistance and even physical attacks. He saw Boston as the potential center of Universalist thought. Eventually the offer came to start a church there and he felt he could not turn it down. The people in Gloucester were greatly disheartened by his leaving, but Murray felt that Boston was the epicenter of the liberal religious movements taking root in the Northeast. To honor his old supporters, Murray made occasional trips back to Gloucester to preach, an honor he accorded to no other church outside Boston. Even before their employment of Murray, the Universalists in Boston had purchased a wooden church structure from the Congregationalists and it became the home of Universalism in Boston until it was replaced by a larger structure in 1838.

Murray spent the next 15 years developing a cadre of ministers who would follow in his footsteps, the most prominent being Hosea Ballou. It is important to trace our own church’s direct connection to Ballou and thus to Murray. When the First Universalist Society of Cincinnati was created in 1827, its first minister was Josiah Waldo. Waldo was trained by Ballou and married Elmina Ballou, the daughter of Hosea.

Murray’s beliefs and practices as a minister included several major deviations from typical Christian religious observance beyond the belief in universal salvation. He did not believe in transubstantiation and thus, would not conduct communion services. When requested to do so, he would perform memorial services in place of the eucharist. He also did not believe in infant baptism. To replace it, he would conduct dedication services, a practice followed by many of his immediate successors and still in use today in UU churches including our own. He also attached himself to his congregations in a much more committed fashion than most traditional ministers of his day. He saw his church members as a part of his family and he served them like his own family, tending to many needs outside the realm of the religious sphere.

Murray continued to serve the people of Boston until October of 1809, when he suffered a debilitating stroke. While he attempted to continue his activities as a minister, the effects of the stroke severely limited his strength and abilities. Murray passed away on September 3, 1815, as he neared his 74th birthday. He was interred in the famous Old Granary Cemetery in downtown Boston in the Sargent family vault. However, 20 years later it was decided to build a monument to him and he was reinterred in Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge where he rests today.

It is now 2020 and our society is facing a host of challenging trials. As we prepare to celebrate 250 years of Universalism, perhaps we can reflect on one of Murray’s greatest strengths. He often disagreed strongly with people but he conducted himself in such a manner that he frequently won over as friends his most ardent critics. He counted among those friends a collection of some of the most influential and famous people from the formative years of our nation. Many of those friends did not adopt Universalism as a religion but they greatly respected the man who planted its roots on American soil. They admired his abilities to fight for his cause yet remain on cordial terms with his adversaries. In today’s atmosphere of confrontational politics, perhaps we could use a strong dose of Murray’s love of humanity.

While this completes the story of John Murray, there is an important person in his life who also deserves recognition. That person would be his remarkable wife, Judith Sargent. We will look at her story next month.

(You can also read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 of this series.)

by Mike Roberts, Church Historian

In 1776, revolution was swirling around the English colonies in America, especially in New England where the founding father of Universalism was now living. However, another revolution was sweeping him up in a way that had a more profound effect on him than the Spirit of ’76. John Murray had recently settled in the town of Gloucester, Massachusetts. The city rests northeast of Boston and was an important fishing center during the time of the American Revolution. Murray had developed a loyal following and preached his Universalist message to whomever would listen. Usually, these sermons were conducted in private homes, as he was barred from preaching in any of the town’s churches. Unsuccessful attempts had been made by his opponents to remove him from the city, labeling him as a dangerous malcontent.

A group of rebels who had been members of the First Church of Christ but who had begun to follow Murray decided to absent themselves from First Church services. The Sargent family was at the forefront of this rebellion. The rebels were forced to answer to church authorities as to why they no longer were committed to the ideals of the church. They answered these charges in a series of letters and also stopped paying taxes to the church. At this time in American history, local churches were partially supported by tax money. The assumption was that maintenance of order in the community could exist only through the support of a strong religious base. Christian religion, with its belief in punishment in the hereafter, was the strongest force to ensure moral behavior. Our Universalist rebels saw this taxation as an infringement on their natural rights and took the next step of constructing their own church building to hold their own services. They invited John Murray to be their first minister. Murray accepted but asked for no remuneration. The initial service in the simple structure containing thirty pews was conducted on December 25, 1780.

The First Church was quick to retaliate. Between 1780 and 1783, property of the dissident members was confiscated to account for their missed tax payments. One revolutionary was jailed for a short time. Murray tried to stay above the fray. He continued to preach regularly but continued to accept no payment for his services. After three years of harassment, the dissidents saw no recourse but to sue First Church and the parish. Murray reluctantly agreed to join the suit and it was led by the rebels, particularly the Sargent family. As Murray had anticipated, the case dragged on for three more years and during this period, broadsides, pamphlets, case filings and newspaper articles abounded on both sides.

The heart of the defense from First Parish was that the Universalist concept of salvation for all was a corrupting influence on the morals of the community. With the threat of eternal damnation removed from the life of its residents, there was no restraint on immoral behavior. In 1786, the courts agreed with the Universalist right to form their own church and not be required to pay taxes to the town’s major church. The landmark decision opened the doors of many dissident churches, not just the Universalists.

Meanwhile, Murray and his insurgents saw their ideas spread outside Gloucester to other cities, towns and villages in New England. Much like the early days of Christianity, sects with slightly different views and opinions were found in all these new locations. Conferences were called in the late 1780’s for the purpose of discussing the new faith. Murray typically stayed above these frays and preferred to simply preach the gospel. However, with no ordained ministers, no training schools and little but the writings and preaching of Murray and other Universalists, the new sect was at an embryonic stage.

It was also decided that the new churches required incorporation to protect themselves from continued lawsuits. This was done in Massachusetts and later in other states to which Universalism spread. Part of the agreement to incorporate included paying Murray a salary of 100 pounds per year. The newly incorporated church called itself “The Independent Christian Church in Gloucester”.

By 1788, Murray was well-respected among the membership as well as the political leadership of the new country. He could count among his friends, George and Martha Washington and John and Abigail Adams, who met Murray on board ship on a return trip from London where Murray had visited his aging mother. Nathaniel Greene, a Revolutionary War hero and declared Universalist, was a close friend. Benjamin Rush, a noted doctor, signer of the Declaration of Independence and avowed Universalist, stated that no one would have dreamed of the revolution in the religious world brought on by this unknown immigrant from England.

One more major event took place during this period. On October 6, 1788, Murray took as his wife, Mrs. Judith Sargent Stevens, a widow. Much could be said about this remarkable woman, but that will be saved for a later article dedicated solely to her singular accomplishments. In the meantime, we will let John Murray enjoy the fruits of his labor and the bliss of marital life before we finish his story.

(You can also read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4 of this series.)

by Mike Roberts, Church Historian

We left our hero, John Murray, the founding father of our Universalist faith, aboard a ship bound for the American colonies. He had suffered the loss of his wife, child, four siblings and his father to death. He had been scorned, ridiculed and threatened for his belief in universal salvation. Heading for a new life in America offered hope for a brighter future.

A series of fortunate minor mishaps caused Murray’s ship to make an emergency land fall in New Jersey. Murray was sent out on a small boat to look for help. When he landed on the shore, he tied up the boat and looked for assistance. Eventually, he came upon John Potter, an eccentric New Jersey farmer who took Murray in with welcome arms. Potter lived in his own farm house but also had built a small church on the property, hoping to begin a local congregation. On finding that Murray had done extensive preaching in England, Potter invited him to address a gathering of friends and neighbors at his church. Thus, on September 30, 1770, the first Universalist sermon was delivered in America.

Word spread that a new preacher was in town and invitations to speak at first trickled in then became more plentiful. Initially, Murray spoke in the general vicinity of Potter’s home but then speaking requests began coming from as far away as New York.

While Murray’s original sermon was the first of its kind in America, the concept of universal salvation was not a brand new idea to the colonies. In parlor conversation, across tea rooms and even in pubs, the idea had been discussed and there was interest. James Relly’s book had already found its way to America and was at the root of this talk. Now a preacher lived in their midst who could intelligently explain the concept and this preacher had actually heard Relly speak and conversed with him in England. However, one of the biggest obstacles that Murray had to face was his not being an ordained minister. He had not been sanctioned by any religious body to preach the gospel and he had scant formal training in the message of the Bible. To the solidly based religions of the day who demanded extensive training for their ministers, rabbis and priests, he was a quack. He was likeable and obviously intelligent but they still regarded him as a dangerous influence.

Nonetheless, requests to speak came from up and down the Mid-Atlantic coast. Eventually, over the next few years, Murray made addresses as far north as New Hampshire and as far south as Maryland. At times, friendly ministers would allow him the use of their churches but many times the sermons were delivered in public buildings, as churches were closed to him. Resistance was as mild as a few short rebukes and cold shoulders and as harsh as rocks and eggs being thrown at him as he spoke. However, he often expressed that there was true freedom of religion in the Americas and he felt much more at ease presenting his view of Christian theology in his new home than he ever did in his old homeland.

While Murray’s views were rejected by most religious leaders, he was considered a friend by many. He was likeable, he rarely attacked those who disagreed with him and he was eager to be a source of help for his new homeland. Strife with the mother country was nearing revolution and two honors paid to him are indicative of his acceptance. When George Washington journeyed to Cambridge, Massachusetts on July 3, 1775 to take command of the Continental Army, Murray was part of the delegation selected to greet Washington upon his arrival. Also, the Rhode Island Brigade of the new army asked him to serve as their chaplain, a role which Murray gratefully assumed and of which Washington approved.

It would have been easy for Murray to have started his own church. Everywhere he traveled and spoke, he was offered a pulpit in which to settle. Murray steadfastly clung to the belief that his message could be spread much more effectively and quickly if he remained an itinerant preacher and traveled far and wide to spread the word.

We must leave John Murray until next month. He is actively spreading the story of Universalism but war clouds loom on the horizon. Revolution is near.

(You can also read Part 1, Part 3, and Part 4 of this series.)