Tag: Culture

A WARNING FROM COLONIAL DOVER

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

As I’ve mentioned previously, Dover is the seventh oldest settlement in the U.S. – as well as the oldest in New Hampshire. After residing in the state nearly three decades now – half of that in Dover itself – I’ve come to recognize how tangled the early history of New England is, and how little of it was exposed to me in the traditional versions of the American experience taught in public schools elsewhere in the nation. I’m not even sure a clear accounting is possible, even through the Colonial years.

For one thing, the surviving records leave gaps. As an example, consider how much was lost each time city hall burned down. And then, what did so and so mean in a passage about such and such? How do we interpret them?

For another, trying to follow a particular thread can become frustrating. Which perspective do we pick – Puritan or Pilgrim? They had distinct differences from the get-go, despite their underlying embrace of Calvinist theology. What about the dissidents, notably the Quakers and Baptists, who were major influences yet seldom are mentioned in the mainstream accounts? And then which colony or settlement, often at odds with others?

Even trying to follow a particular family in a thoroughly researched genealogy through this period can become overwhelming. Five, six, or seven generations from the time of the first Mayflower landing till the American Revolution can produce a lot of offspring.

Inhabited since 1623, Dover was often outside of the purview and control of Puritan Massachusetts. In contrast to the Bay colonies to the south, New Hampshire was chartered as a money-making scheme, not as a New Zion. So it rarely appears in the overview histories, especially the ones that focus on Boston.

One central character in Dover’s early years is Richard Waldron (1615-1689), who arrived around 1635 and soon turned what’s now downtown – then known as Cochecho Village or Cochecho Falls – into a personal fiefdom.

He was a powerful figure, not just as major of the militia but also in colonial politics both in New Hampshire and Massachusetts as well as in his control of trade with the local Native populations.

My awareness of him comes in his ordering the persecution of three Quaker women in 1662, missionaries he sentenced to be pulled by an oxcart to Cape Cod and stripped to the waist and flogged in each town en route – a death sentence, if not for the courage of those who turned the itinerary instead to sanctuary in Maine. (These were the women who founded the congregation I now serve. A poem by John Greenleaf Whittier relates their ordeal and witness.)

Major Waldron is also notorious for an event in staged September 7, 1676, when he invited Natives to join in a “mock battle” or day of games and contests a few blocks away from where I live. Of the 400 braves who accepted the invitation and showed up, half were captured and taken to Massachusetts, where they were either sold into slavery or hanged.

This was in the midst of an Indian uprising known as King Philip’s War (June 20, 1675, to April 12, 1678) that arose in Rhode Island. Many New England settlements were raided and burned, including Providence, Rhode Island, and Springfield, Massachusetts, and almost all of the English settlements in Maine were eradicated in that outbreak, not to return until the end of the French and Indian War.

In northern New England, however, hostilities continued for decades after the King Philip’s outbreak, often orchestrated by Jesuit French priests. (The last fatal attack by Indians in Dover was in 1725.) Remember, too, bounties were paid for scalps.

In Dover, like many of the surrounding towns, garrison houses and fortifications were ordered built as refuges during periodic raids. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they didn’t.

On June 28, 1689, during what’s recorded as King William’s War, the Natives launched a devastating attack on Dover in which 52 colonists – a quarter of the population of what’s now downtown Dover – were killed or taken captive.

Among those murdered was Major Waldron, mutilated with his own sword. Look up the details, if you wish. It was sweet revenge.

Raids over the years left many of the surrounding towns with similar destruction, death, and captivity. (Even tracing the tribal connections involved can become challenging, since these were shifting alliances.)

Essentially, much of northern New England was on alert until the end of what we know as the French and Indian War in 1760. That’s a long time of simmering violence.

As for following a particular thread through all of this, the minutes of our Quaker meeting’s sufferings and service through this period are lost to a later fire at the home where the books were in storage. As I was saying about the surviving records? I’ve heard bits and pieces. An anvil that sits in our meetinghouse was, by oral tradition, pulled from the ruins of one of the houses in 1689, although it more like was made later and used by one of the descendants who turned Civil War cannons into plowshares.

~*~

I have no doubt where Major Waldron would be standing in today’s political scene.

He ordered the deportation – and in effect execution – of three women for their religious convictions.

Sound familiar? They were, we should note, pacifists.

And then he foolishly inflamed a neighboring nation – in this case, the earlier owners of the land (oh, my, does that sound familiar when thinking of Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, or California?) and then look at the havoc and destruction that followed. To wit: brash talk, cruel action, misogyny, words that promise one thing but mean something else altogether.

History does provide warning signs. Let us pay heed.

ENCOUNTERING THE ELIOT BIBLE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The first printing press in America arrived in 1638 at Harvard College in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where it was used to publish Puritan religious materials, including the Bay Psalm Book, free from censorship in England.

Perhaps its most remarkable book, though, was its first complete Bible, which appeared not in English but a Native language in a translation by John Eliot, a task that required him not only to translate all 66 books of the English Christian Bible but also to create a new alphabet altogether.

The resulting 1,180-page volume, now known as the Eliot Bible, appeared in 1663, a translation into Algonquin of the Geneva version used by the Puritans.

(At the time, sects found important distinctions in the texts of their translations. For example, before her execution by Massachusetts Puritans in 1656, the Quaker Mary Dyer’s letters challenging her charges quoted the King James, or Authorized, version, something that would not have gone unnoticed by her accusers.)

With our overwhelming abundance of printed materials today, it’s impossible for us to imagine the immensity of this task. I’m still amazed that small typefaces could be cut as cleanly as they were and then be cast into metal. Hand-setting the resulting type is slow and arduous labor, and each sheet of paper would have been printed individually, rather than in the continuous rolls we now use. (I remember the blur of newspapers on the press, measured in the thousands per hour.) In Colonial times, to store, collate, and bind all of those pages into all of those volumes required both strategy and space in a time when most buildings were small, especially by our standards. As for ink and paper itself? These things were precious.

My first encounter with an actual Eliot Bible came at the Roger Williams National Memorial in Providence, Rhode Island, where Williams’ volume is displayed, along with his notes in the margins, done in his own style of shorthand. Think of that twist: the founder of the first Baptist church in America, banished from Massachusetts by the Puritans, was also concerned enough with spreading the Gospel that he, too, learned the Native language and reflected on ways to open its message.

In these early literary efforts, then, we see glimmers that relations with Native populations in the Northeast could have gone in much more peaceful ways than the violent turns they took in the hands of others.

As we learn in other, more tragic, pages.

FAREWELL AND BEST WISHES TO GEORGE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

For the past four years I’ve been a member of the bass section of a remarkable community chorus in Greater Boston. We rehearse weekly through much of the year and find ourselves performing in public when occasions present. Most recently, it was as part of a summer solstice event hosted by the Harvard University museums of science and culture.

Known as the Revels Singers, we’re under the umbrella of the Boston Revels organization, which is best known for its annual Christmas productions at Harvard’s Sanders Theater.

George Emlen, the Revels music director for the past 32 years, founded the community chorus four years ago as a way to keep much of the Revels’ repertoire and spirit more active and visible throughout the year, augmenting the pub sings, concerts (spring and fall equinox and summer solstice are duly observed), educational outreach programs, harbor cruises, and the like.

And now he’s retired. How do you replace a skilled and enthusiastic conductor, one who reaches out to know his performers and their families as well? How do you replace an insightful composer and arranger or a collaborator on creating a new show every year for Christmas? (The last one was set in Wales. The next has a Cajun-Acadian base.)

It’s been an emotional year for us. At the final show of the Wales production, George was given a curtain-call, something the directors never do, preferring the applause be for the cast of singers, actors, and dancers ranging from very young to, well, admittedly old. The well-earned roar that greeted George matched what James Levine might hear at the Metropolitan Opera at the conclusion of a Ring Cycle. It was amazing. He’s touched a lot of people over the years.

For me, every rehearsal has brought new perspectives on music and music-making, from his improvised warm-ups (they’re never the same, and I wouldn’t want to sing without them beforehand) to the discoveries and interplay we share in pieces that range from the 12th century to the present, spanning more than two dozen languages and both classical and folk disciplines. How does a conductor remain patient while incrementally yet continually raising the level, anyway? We were good to begin with, but now? It’s a much higher standard than we would have had any right to imagine.

One eye-opener for us was the opportunity to audition the four finalists from the applicants to succeed him. Each was assigned three pieces to introduce to us in an hour-long rehearsal – one from the Renaissance or earlier, one from the American shape-note tradition, and one from world folk. As we found, each conductor was quite different, having something unique to bring to us. We could also sense how the fit might or might not work, which in itself was a revelation.

What I can say is that we’re excited to know that what George has established will continue and grow. We’ve had an opportunity to rehearse a full session with our new music director, Megan Henderson, and it feels like a match made in heaven. But then, as she says, we all share one thing in common: we all love George. She understands what she’s inheriting.

He plans to focus on composing, but I can’t imagine he won’t be in demand for guest conducting or teaching or travel in the arts. We all wish him and Jan all the best.

~*~

To view a video tribute to George by Michael Kolowich, including an interview and footage of productions George conducted, go to Revels.org.

AS FOR THAT SECOND AMENDMENT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

For those who claim to be defenders of the Second Amendment, let’s insist they embrace the entire provision, the part that mentions a well-regulated militia.

There’s nothing well-regulated in what we’re seeing in the cancer of mass murders resulting from assault rifles. A particular model, at that.

Note, please, that regulated means regulations, first, and their efficient enforcement, second. The Congress that adopted this amendment knew what it was doing, unlike more recent politicians beholden to the gun lobby. As the amendment insists, it’s the militia that shall not be infringed. The well-regulated militia.

By the way, having lived in rural areas, I’ve come to appreciate the place of hunting and knowledgeable hunters in the wild. Some are deeply devoted naturalists, aware and alert in the nuances of their surroundings. Natives have much to teach about the rhythms of their game. I’ve seen how a local hunting and fishing club regulated much of a rural county, keeping irresponsible “sportsmen” away. In Washington state, the return and proliferation of elk can be credited to concerned hunters in conservationist organizations. There’s a role for that culture – one, we should note, that accepts legal limits on its activity.

~*~

These days, I’m thinking more and more about the militia part of the Second Amendment. What if we required all gun owners to be a member of one? Perhaps it would be like the Army Reserve, where each member would have to take so much training each year and put in community service time. Training? First-aid and CPR are always good for the public. We’re far more likely to need those than a gun, anyway. I see this as a kind of auxiliary for public service. Why not?

No exceptions for people who claim to be too busy, either. Someone like Donald Trump would have to put in hands-on time. Public service, indeed.

RANTERS, THEN AND NOW

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

One of the most remarkable periods in world history came in mid-1600s Britain, an outbreak that included the execution of the monarch by commoners (rather than a rival for the throne) amid a host of social, economic, and political upheaval. For an overview of the ferment, you can read Christopher Hill’s The World Turned Upside Down or Antonia Fraser’s Cromwell, Our Chief Among Men.

My primary interest, of course, focuses on the rise of the Quaker movement out of the waves of conflict – with the rise of a two-party political system and a loyal opposition as a byproduct of a pacifist faith. I also see parallels with much of the counterculture experience I’ve known from the hippie era on, where some have remained faithful but many others have flaked away.

The waves of English radicals can be fascinating, from the New Model Army and Levelers, Diggers, and True Levelers on through the Muggletonians, Fifth Monarchists, and others, but for Quakers, the Ranters presented a special cross to bear.

Like Quakers, the Ranters espoused personal experience of ecstatic faith, and the two movements were often confused with each other by the wider public. Unlike the discipline and discipleship among Quakers, though, Ranters had no qualms about sexual promiscuity or any other limitations (it was all God’s will, in their eyes, no matter any hurt to others), at least until persecution hit and they readily recanted. Not so the Quakers, who insisted on eternal Truth. God doesn’t change.

So here we are. What are our deepest values? Where do we stand firm, and where do we yield and bend? What is principle and what is opportunistic? How far out is our vision, and how much a matter of short-term maneuvers?

Where are we – each of us – truly accountable?

Anyone else feeling uncomfortable?

WHY WOODPECKER CAN’T KEEP UP

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Many days in the newsroom I had the feeling of same-old, same-old. I’d seen it all before. Another election, just different names and tallies. Another car crash or house fire. A store opening or a restaurant closing. Graduations or obituaries. It’s a long list. And then something refreshing would come along, something that prompted the exclamation, “I’ve never seen that before!” Contrary to the doom-and-gloom image of the business, many of us at the newspaper loved having something uplifting to present.

These days, though, it’s more likely to be along the lines of this couldn’t be happening, could it?

The American presidential campaign is just the most obvious. The Woodpecker Reports appearing at the Red Barn are supposed to be a reminder of the underlying currents we thought would be shaping this election season – the history and power-brokers moving behind the scenes, especially. Things we’d seen before, round after round, including the same players or their disciples. Woodpecker can hammer away in the infected trees, as he’s been, but when the forest catches fire, he’ll take flight. I know this: things are spinning too fast to keep up. And that’s before we get to the climate instability that’s more glibly called global warming.

~*~

I’m still aghast at the reports of Sen. David Perdue’s “joking” when he encouraged participants at a religious conference to pray that President Obama’s “days be few,” a reference to Psalm 109. The audience apparently picked up on the calamities to be inflicted not just on the transgressor but on his spouse and children, too – evil thoughts, without question. In the text, however, King David is pouring out his soul in response to political persecution, a situation the Georgia Republican blithely ignores. King David’s lines certainly fit as a cry for help from Obama: “Wicked and deceiving words are being said about me, false accusations are being cast in my teeth,” as verse 2 reads in the New Jerusalem translation. “In return for my friendship they denounce me. … They repay my kindness with evil, and friendship with evil” (verses 4-5) match the good intentions Obama had for reasoning with a Republican Congress. As for the evil man oppressing the king, “He had no thought of being loyal, but hounded the poor and needy and the broken hearted to their death. He had a taste for cursing; let it recoil on him!” (verses 16-17).

Taken in its fullness, the Psalm – perhaps even the Holy One – could point to Perdue and laugh, “The joke’s on you.”

Except that this is serious, deadly serious. Prayer is never a joke, not for the faithful. And the Fourth Commandment (Exodus 20:7) warns: “You shall not misuse the name of Yahweh your God, for Yahweh will not leave unpunished anyone who misuses his name.” (The New Jerusalem here gives quite a different insight than the more traditional take of “taking the Lord’s name in vain,” usually seen as colloquial cursing or words not uttered in polite company.)

In a broader context, we can remember that King David could be both passionate and brash, qualities that got him in deep doo-doo more than once, and thanks to Abigail, he even had to recant one of the curses he was about to impose on her husband and all the males in her extended household (I Samuel 25).

While we’re at it, we can also leap ahead to Jesus commanding his followers, “Love your enemies,” and to look for the plank in their own eyes when faulting the splinter in another’s.

Nowhere do I accept an argument that it can be OK to pray for evil.

~*~

Only hours later came the massacre at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, the worst mass slaying by a solitary gunman in the nation’s history.

As I read a few headlines quoting people who were suggesting the sinfulness of the lifestyle was the reason for the tragedy, I once again found myself aghast. (When I reread the reports more carefully, this was not their argument; rather it turned against Islam and its followers. Still, I have no doubt the original line of anti-LGBT argument is circulating through many circles.)

What angered me in my reaction was the notion we see all too often of blaming the victims. If their lifestyle were to blame, how then do we align that with shootings in churches, schools, even movie theaters, as we’re seeing? You’re going to blame Amish children or their parents? Come on, now! Or is something else the cause? At the moment, the United States has more guns per capita than at any previous time in its history; firearms were relatively scarce, even on the frontier, as you’ll discover reading wills from the period.

Let me suggest another calculus:

The more guns, the more murders. Period.

~*~

I just wish that mass shootings weren’t becoming same-old, same-old news in America, with only the numbers and frequency rising. Or that the anger weren’t fueling hatred.

Maybe I need to head out to the garden to see what’s new there. Even picking weeds might be uplifting.