Thursday, July 8, 2010

Memories and Dreams

This morning, I awoke with a vivid dream fresh on my mind. It was one of those kinds of dreams that linger, and I enjoy putting the stories together. That story's beginning can be found in my visit to Old Sturbridge Village yesterday.

As I mentioned yesterday, the "minister" and I talked quite a bit, and he was a true scholar. There was no sticking to a scripted act; no matter what discussion angle, whatever tangent taken, he could speak specifically and at length on it. For example, one fact he gave me that I found interesting is that Massachusetts did not change its laws to recognize separation of church and state until 1833. I was surprised by this, because my research on the history of the Salem Witch Trials revealed that it took 100 years, until 1792, to rescind the ex-communications of those who died, and descendants were paid a stipend by way of an apology. If they recognized that church-led government contributed to that fiasco, why take 41 more years to separate the two? The minister's answer was perfectly logical: everybody wants to have somebody to look down on. This was a time of great immigration, and prejudices long held flared up; the minister stated that one Irish girl was hanged in Massachusetts because she was Catholic. When she was asked to cite the Lord's prayer (a common witch test), she did---in Latin. No, that wouldn't do, and she was asked to do it again in English. But that version was heavily inflected with her Gaelic. She was therefore hanged, with the additional horror of watching five of her friends die first. Unimaginable.

Now, back to the dream. It was one of those "This is not the real time and place, but I knew it was supposed to be" dreams. I dreamed that a few people from the tiny rural community where I was raised came sneakily into the ranks of the little clapboard Methodist church I grew up in, in the 60's and 70's, and turned our quiet, simple services into loud, showy productions. In reality, when I was still in grade school, a few families comparable in age to my own, broke off from our church and began searching for other, more charismatic faiths to sustain them. It was very painful for us kids to go through this, when we all attended the same little school and were all friends, having grown up together.

It seems obvious to me now, but I finally figured out that the dream led back to that conversation with the minister, that it had embedded in my thoughts and pulled up a memory I almost never think of anymore. Suddenly, the two ideas showed up on a side-by-side screen in my mind: the rejection of a faith by people I loved, and the tragic rejection of those who were not Protestant among the Colonists. The effect was bittersweet---I was ashamed that I could worry over hurt feelings for years, as opposed to the many who died as a result of their faith. It was just this kind of illumination, a personal "Aha!" moment, the best kind of learning, that I came here for. I had to record it here, hoping maybe it will trigger something meaningful for others.

Another blog will follow later tonight. I think it will be a good one! Check back soon.

1 comment:

  1. I can only dream of being as knowledgeable and diverse as you. Loving everything I have read so far!

    ReplyDelete