Historical address by Joshua Goulet, and homilies by Intern Minister Tori Rosati and Rev. Frank Clarkson, on the celebration of the 200th anniversary of our Universalist congregation.

Historical address by Joshua Goulet:

In the early 1800s, Haverhill still had a public church named First Parish. If you didn’t actively belong somewhere else, your membership automatically defaulted to that church. It was the community church and so it had within it a wide range of beliefs. It had to accommodate everyone. We know that there were Universalists present in the pews of that congregation because in February of 1811, the renown Universalist preacher Hosea Ballou was invited to preach. It seems that this moment was a turning point for Universalism in the city. People started to gather.

Twelve years later on March 17, 1823, fifteen people joined together at a tavern to officially ink “The First Universalist Society in Haverhill and adjacent towns.” And as its inaugural preacher, they invited Rev. Hosea Ballou back. They called Rev. Thomas G. Farnsworth as their first minister three years later.

Not long after its founding, First Universalist had no problem getting involved in church politics throughout the town. Only five years after the Universalists left, First Parish called a minister by the name of Dudley Phelps. Phelps was a character to be sure. He preached a fierce Gospel of hell and damnation. First Parish became divided. The conservatives wanted to keep Phelps as their minister. The liberals wanted to be rid of him. By 1832, the battle had been yet unresolved with several failed attempts to oust Phelps from First Parish’s pulpit. Then here came the Universalists.

Having at their core beliefs a God of Love who would not condemn anyone to eternal hellfire, the Universalists withdraw from their Universalist Society and registered with First Parish. With the help of the Universalists, the liberals were able to oust Phelps. With the dismissal of Dudley Phelps, the conservatives left and formed a new independent congregation. By 1834, a new minister, a Unitarian minister, named Nathaniel Gage was installed, turning First Parish into First Parish Unitarian. With the Fire-and-Brimstone preacher gone and a Unitarian minister in place, the Unviersalists withdrew their membership from Unitarian Parish and rejoined their Universalist society. And all this within the first eleven years of their existence!

Throughout the subsequent years, the Universalists continued to grow and grow. They built a beautiful church on Summer Street, which is no longer there. That building was eventually sold and the money from the sale was used, in part, for the construction of the building we are in right now. This building is a wonderful illustration of the vision of our forebears. It was purposefully made to be open so that up to a thousand people could listen to lectures. It was meant to have the arts alive by hosting plays so well done that the Boston Globe gave reviews. It was active in the community with a stated mission to help people ease their suffering. This building was constructed for study, justice, learning, play, beauty, and refuge.

These are values that we have had and continue to have. We have had people argue out loud for a loving God. We have had people fight for freedom in the Union Army in the civil War. We had a minister be the chaplain to Flying Tigers in the Pacific during World War Two. We have had members and ministers work for radical peace during the Cold War. We have welcomed our neighbors to worship in extraordinary times and welcomed people to come here as refuge from daily struggles and societal oppression.

I could go on and on about all that this congregation has done in its 200 years. I hope you all know how hard it was to write this given the number of amazing stories I cut out. Like the minister who exchanged cigars with Mark Twain. Or the other times when Universalists would join other churches to keep fire-and-brimstone preachers out of other church pulpits. And yes, that happened more than just that once! Or the time the Universalists welcomed the Unitarians to worship together when they had no building. And when they did that another few times. Or the federating of First Universalist and First Parish Unitarian eleven years before it was done nationally.  Or the amazing stories of people connected to our history: Hosea Ballou, William Waldemar Spaulding, Joseph Crocker Snow, Emerson Schwenck, George Wadleigh and his family, Janet Bowering, and so many more. The history of this church is one to be proud of. We stand on the shoulders of ancestors who may not have always been perfect but who always strove for perfection, and for more love.  Just as we continue to do today. 

Homily by Intern Minister Tori Rosati:

When I arrived to the Universalist Church of Essex (and UUism in general) 13 years ago, one of the first symbols I was met with was the large Universalist Off-Centered Cross that hung (and still hangs) in their chancel. I would spend the next many months on Sunday staring up, curiously, at the small cross in the bottom left corner contained in a large circle of empty space. You can see an example of one printed in your OoS. The cross was developed in 1946 and meant to represent the Christian roots of the Universalist tradition but moved off center to leave room for other points of view, and paths toward God. 

It was so different than the religious iconography I grew up with. It felt invitational. I found myself stealing quiet moments in the sanctuary during events and meetings – to head upstairs and sit in the back pew and take it in. I reflected on my own spiritual journey and the symbols, truths, and ways of understanding the Divine that I had collected along the way and how and where they might fit in my circle. In my life at the time, I was in all that empty space – searching, seeking, roaming around a bit untethered, and I would find deep healing in that space – there was so much room to move…

Here, I am reminded of a famed sentiment that Universalist minister of the early 20th century, Rev. Lewis B. Fisher offered. When responding to critics of the faith who thought that Universalists didn’t stand for anything or keep any one position, he noted that Universalists don’t remain in place – “Universalists,” he said, “move “ and, he went on, “the main question we must be asking ourselves is in which way we are moving.” 

Now, to bring this statement up to date some, we might understand it as this - our faith is open to change, is always investigating itself and in conversation with the relationships and world around us – all that open space of possibility –  and moving in the direction of a more just, liberated, and connected world. 

From the story we just heard of John Murray being blown by the winds toward a life of religious wandering to the early Universalist circuit riding preachers, young ministers, who roamed the country preaching this radical theology of our inherent worth and God’s all-abiding love – these forbears were on the move.  

Now, they did this all imperfectly, at times got lost and went astray – but at their best they kept moving – leaving something behind for the next to pick up, improve upon and continue on. Left something for us. 

This, for me, is the spirit of Universalism – it is on the move. A spirit that embodies the unconditional, ever-present and all-abiding loves that moves between - whenever we reach out beyond the bounds of our individual lives toward each other and the world around us. I found and felt that love, most deeply, for the first when I walked into that little historically Universalist church and I continue to feel it here. 

Certainly, the story of Universalism in Haverhill has been one of movement. As we learned from Josh, ours is a legacy of faith communities expanded with every-widening circles their care and service to the wider community. The Haverhill Universalists believed that God’s love was only powerful insofar as it was spread and moved beyond the confines of a building. 

But this movement is not unbounded – it is not scattered or without purpose or grounding. It doesn’t move haphazardly or without direction. It moves toward something. There are things that root us, there are moments and times when we must face, head on and immovable, the injustice and oppression that shows up in our world and ourselves – but, that off-centered cross reminds us that our searching, our seeking, the breadth of the Spirits movement through our lives is contained in and accountable to, a union of love that encircles us all. 

And even that circle - it is not meant to be fixed or static – it moves too. The love that we practice in our living - expanding our networks of relationship and accountability, working for justice, caring and showing up for each other – this widens that circle. Every point of connection – every intersection where we move beyond our own individual lives and concerns opens up a channel for love to move. 

So, this month as we reflect together on the legacy and promise of Universalism, I wonder…

How does this Spirit, however you might understand it, move in you? What is in the circle of your own spiritual lives – and collectively as a faith community…what have we integrated into the space around us, and what might we move off center or leave behind all together? How do our symbols, beliefs, and ways of understanding the world intersect and open to each other’s and the wider community beyond this building? And…in what direction will move toward in the next 200 years? 

The spirit of Universalism moves and with it, so do we. While we live these lives imperfectly, and our work never fully completed  – let us open to this Spirit that is the wind that blows at our back, that roots that ground us when our roaming carries us away, the movements that hold us accountable to our deepest values, and the channels that connect us to each other all along the way. That great and abiding love that contains us in ever-widening circles and whilt not let us go…

Homily by Rev. Frank Clarkson:

For me, what we just sang is the spirit of Universalism: “O love that will not let me go.”

Like many of you, I grew up with some images and ideas of God as angry or distant, like a disapproving judge or a disappointed parent. And this is nothing new: down through the ages, plenty of people have imagined the Holy in all kinds of negative ways. But are they true, these fearful ways of imagining God?

In 1741 Johnathan Edwards preached a powerful sermon called “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” in which he painted a vivid picture his Calvinist theology. He said,

“The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; His wrath towards you burns like fire.”

Thirty years later, John Murray came ashore in Good Luck, New Jersey, trying to run away from religion. But as we heard, he found there was a calling waiting for him in America. People were hungry for a new gospel, of love instead of fear.

I’d like to be able to time travel, back to Haverhill in1823, and hear the voices of those first Universalists. What did they wonder about, and worry about? What were their hopes, and their dreams, those people who built a new church over on Summer Street? You can see a picture of that building, and other things from our past, at the reception following the service.

Before too long, they’d outgrown that building, sold it to the Presbyterians, come up the hill and built this church, dedicating it in 1894. They named the room out there for John Murray, and they put this beautiful image of Jesus up front, where the sun would illuminate it on Sunday morning. Back then, the population of Haverhill was about 27,000 people, and this church had a thousand members. 

Those must have been heady days—a congregation with a young and hopeful faith, with Sunday worship so popular they had to set up chairs out in the Murray Room for overflow seating. Are there things we could learn from those folks who put Jesus at the center of their sanctuary, who took seriously this theology of Universal salvation, who also made time to dance?

Universalism trusts not only in the goodness of God, but in the goodness of people. That we don’t need fear of hell in order to behave. That love is stronger even than death.

Back when Rev. Bill Sinkford was president of our denomination a few years ago, he came up with a shorthand way of explaining our long name. He put it this way: “Unitarianism—one God; Universalism—nobody left behind.” 

I have to confess that I don’t find the “one God” part that compelling. Who knows how many expression of the Spirit there are? The poet David Whyte wrote, 

“It doesn’t interest me if there is one God or many gods.
I want to know if you belong or feel abandoned…”

I certainly hope you feel that you belong here. And I love that explanation of Universalism: nobody left behind. Amen to that! Don’t we need that attitude and commitment in these days? Nobody left behind.

We try to be this “big tent” religion, and at our best, we hold our theological diversity with care and curiosity. We know our roots, and how they sustain us, and we are growing in ever-expanding expressions of faith and understanding.

Last weekend we had a memorial service here, for a dear woman whose family needed a church. There were Baptists and Catholics here, probably some UUs, and certainly some nonreligious folks too. After the service a woman approached me, and nodding toward our Jesus, asked, “What was this church before it was UU?”

This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked that question. And I always take pleasure in answering, “This church was built by the Universalists, back in 1894.” But I wonder why she asked. Why shouldn’t a UU church have a beautiful Jesus right up front? We don’t think he’s the only one, or the only way. But his life and ministry can still inspire and deepen our Universalist faith, can’t they?

When I followed my wife to the UU church thirty years ago, the minister there was a creative and charismatic preacher who oozed love, the heart of our Universalist faith. Rev. Bob Karnan captivated us on Sundays, and when we became parents, he baptized our first child. Not long after that, Bob suffered an aneurism, and died. He was only fifty years old. This loss that affected the congregation for a long time. 

We regularly walk by his grave, where on the stone is inscribed a verse that Bob wrote for that hymn we just sang:

O Love that will not let me go,
I give my trust to Thee;
In giving back this life I share,
My soul is called from deep despair
To set my spirit free.

This Love, and this freedom, this is the spirit of Universalism. Now and forever, Amen.