History of the Evangelical Congregational Church of the Atlantic

A Personal Faith Journey

2011-09-11T06:56:00.000-07:00

Written by Norman Halbert
Edited by Erik Mattson

I am a seasoned Christian, saved since 1971. Have been dwelling in the Boston area since 1982. During this time, I have fellowshipped in a local church called Dorchester Christian Fellowship in the Dorchester section of Boston. In the church, I made many friends, but also experienced struggles at times.

It was just after New Years of 1996 when it came to a point when the congregation realized it could not hold it together anymore and decided it was time for a change. It officially ended in June of 1996 that year. Much of the old DCF congregation scattered and moved on.

Most of us during that period became aware of a new fledging congregation that formed just across the Neponset River into Quincy – an easy walk from North Quincy Station to be exact. It was founded by Pastor William Donahue who just before that position was assistant pastor at Glad Tidings Assembly of God Church, a well known church located just south of Quincy Center in the southern part of Quincy.

The Lord’s Planting Church was founded on Christmas Day in 1994 at an old historic edifice on 65 Newbury Avenue, which was founded on 1885 as the Memorial Congregational Church of the Atlantic. This is an old church steeped in history. A congregational congregation was still meeting there when Pastor Donahue founded the Lord’s Planting back in 1994.

The Lord’s Planting was founded under the Foursquare denomination which began just after the Azusa Street manifestation began in Los Angeles, California, in 1906. It sparked a new wave of contemporary Pentecostal movement. That included the present day Assembly of God church denomination. The Foursquare is similar in doctrine to the Assembly of God. The only difference is maybe Foursquare promotes speaking in tongues less.

Several families from the old DCF along with others who have been a part of that particular faith community for many years had moved to the Lord’s Planting. Among them are the Facadas, the Fillmores, the Carters, plus other notables such as Michael Leo Desroches (Leo), electrician by trade. They have blessed fellow brethren with their gifts of service. Karen Power, who is currently leading ministry for foreign missions, also moved to the Lord’s Planting.

In time, as 1997 began, the presence of God and the Holy Spirit really started to be felt among the people of this fledging congregation called The Lord’s Planting.

In May of 1997 that year, this church had the privilege to present a play called Heaven’s Gates, and Hell’s Flames. This is an anthology play about people who have unexpected dates with death. People who die suddenly find themselves before the Gates of Heaven before multitudes of angels. Whether they get to go in to meet Jesus, or be eternally damned depended on whether or not they committed to Jesus. Others experience the horror of Satan and his demons coming to take the condemned to the flaming portal of eternal damnation. The redeemed who did give themselves to Jesus suddenly find themselves running upstairs past the angels, past all the silver and gold, right into the arms of Jesus Himself to a rousing chorus of hallelujah praises. Most touching of all is seeing loved ones reuniting. There is always something special about live performers in costume to give an audience the feeling of actually experiencing plain truth. The result was many committing their lives to Christ. Many of us realized that a Heavenly and supernatural visitation was upon us, animated by God through the Person of God the Holy Spirit. This was to last over the course of time.

During mid-September, from 1996 through 1999, the church used to spend the weekends in a Christian camp and retreat center located at Alton Bay, the Lake Winnipesaukee region of New Hampshire. During the 1998 retreat, many of us witnessed an entire family experiencing a supernatural as well as a dramatic change for the better in just one weekend.

In early December of 1999, Worchester in central Massachusetts experienced the tragedy of losing six firefighters fighting a fire at an abandoned warehouse. Getting close to Christmas, many of us gave a treat to the local firehouse in North Street, to sing Christmas carols to the firefighters on duty. Needless to say, when that was done; those firefighters were blessed and happy.

Something unexpected happened. A man operating a tour trolley type of a bus stopped by the firehouse and suggested that we come aboard and visit other firehouses in Quincy. That included Wollaston, Squantum, and other local areas.

We knew that this was Divine Providence at work; this was too obvious to be mere happenstance. This event shortly received extensive news coverage in the local newspaper, the Quincy Patriot Ledger. What a testimony that was. Hallelujah.

The year 2001 was to be the beginning of the church’s transition from the Foursquare denomination to Congregational. The charter for this historic church edifice deemed that the church must be congregational. As a result, many of us left to join a Foursquare Church in Hyde Park, also a part of Boston. Those who made that transition wanted a type of church that has a more Charismatic/Pentecostal kind of "flavor".

Former assistant pastor, Michael Feehan, left to start a church in the Squantum section of Quincy, which is just east of North Quincy.

2001 was a year of much tragedy, followed by much heaviness. It was to be the year of the infamous terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. American society lost their sense of innocence that tragic day. It left an emotional scar on everyone. If this event did one thing good, it renewed a sense of renewed patriotism and pride in our country. That was to be culminated on Sunday, May 1, 2011. That was when President Obama announced on the news that Osama Bin Ladin, the mastermind behind the 9/11 attacks, was killed in Pakistan by US Navy Seals.

Post 9/11 that year of 2001,the church’s transition was tougher to bear. It was a transition that was to last for seven years. In the Congregational Denomination, there consists of three branches: United Church of Christ, UCC, Conservative Congregational Christian Conference [CCCC, or 4Cs], and Independent Congregational.

On 2002, Stephan Donahue, brother of Pastor William Donahue; took the pastor position at Community Christian Church in the Neponset section, Boston. That is located just over the Neponset River Bridge to the Dorchester side. Steve Donahue still pastors that church to this very day. That particular church is an Independent Congregational church, also still thriving.

It was the end of July of 2007 when over the course of time, the old "Lord’s Planting" finally became known as the "Evangelical Church of the Atlantic", under the covering of The Conservative Congregational Christian Conference. The reason why this church went 4Cs is because 4Cs is more faithful to the commands of God through the Sacred Scriptures.

It was also at the end of July, 2007; that Pastor Bill Donahue, and his family; left to pastor a Foursquare church near Salem, New Hampshire. Our congregation, of course, threw a party for Pastor Bill and his family and wished them Godspeed.

It was also at this time that David Fillmore, his wife Jennifer, and family left to join the "Christ the Rock" church. That is an Assembly of God church that now meets at Snowden Hall, a lecture hall at The University of Massachusetts, Boston. Dave and Jen, both experienced and seasoned worship leaders, were the last prominent members to move on. As a result, the music worship ministry here had to start from scratch. After much trial, error, and practice, they eventually perfected their skills, by the Grace of God. They would include Matthew Glover on guitar whenever he is home from his duties as part of Youth with a Mission. This new worship ministry also includes Victor Illacqua on drums. Dee Spellman leads the vocals. Patrick Deavan and Lourdes Crespo also does vocals. Not to forget, Joanna Balla one of Pastor Francis’ daughters; also does vocals. Richard Tierney plays the lead guitar. Occasionally, Jeremy Campbell plays the drums.

During the interim period between Pastor Bill Donahue and our current pastor, Francis Balla, the church was blessed to have as an interim pastor. Wayne Earl, his wife Lori, and their three daughters tremendously helped the church. The Earl family was missionaries in France, in the Marseilles area. The reason why they returned stateside was because one of their daughters developed cancer and needed treatment. Boston has a reputation for world class hospitals. Our church realized that Pastor Earl and his family would be an ideal fit here while a new permanent pastor was still being sought.

On June of 2008, the church committee discovered Pastor Francis Balla and his family. On June 22, 2008, during a meeting by the church members, Pastor Francis Balla was voted in. 23 members voted yea, 2 voted nay. With the uncertainty over, Pastor Wayne Earl preached his final sermon based on 2 Kings 13:14 to 19. Pastor Wayne realized at that moment in time that remaining in our church would be a distraction being that all attention needed to be focused on Pastor Francis. With that in mind the Earl family moved on. They then started going to the historic Park Street Church in Boston, a sister 4C’s church. The Earls moved out of the church’s parsonage and settled nearby. On September 13, 2008, the church held a potluck supper honoring Pastor Earl, and his family for their service here. We wished them well.

Over the course of the last three years, we had to say goodbye and Godspeed to some among us. One was the infirm daughter of Pastor Wayne and Lori Earl who lost her battle with cancer. Another was Harvey J. Smith, who went to be with Jesus on Wednesday, September 16, 2009. His legacy for tremendous dedication to sharing the Gospel of Christ, one person at a time, was always mindful in the hearts and minds of everyone here at our church. Harvey was always a mentor and an encourager. His passing left a void in all of us, needless to say. By the Grace of God, this church was able to "soldier on" and focus on the mission at hand.

Did I forgot to mention that we are very active in supporting foreign missions? We certainly do. One that comes to mind is called "An Orphan’s Dream". Virginia Burbank, a retired schoolteacher from nearby Cohasset, directs this particular mission. Though in her 70s, she felt a call from God to go to the continent of Africa to start an orphanage in Kenya there. "Gigi", as she is affectionately called, has taken in homeless children in Kenya. Many have been afflicted with the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, AIDS. Gigi is gradually expanding that mission compound to accommodate the ever-increasing need.

One of the most inspiring stories concerning this was from the testimony of one of Claudio Pole’s sons, Giovanni. Gio as he is known was on short-term mission over there during the summer of 2011. He testified on how it was tough but fulfilling. He became a surrogate "big brother" to the children in need there; he often played innocent and friendly "horseplay" with them.

Gio’s testimony reminded me of how I came to know the Lord 40 years ago this summer season. I stayed at a summer camp in New Jersey as a camp councilor to children. This was the time of the "Jesus Freak" phenomenon that swept the country at the time. I saw no visions or apparitions. It was getting involved with selfless activities bigger than myself. That was how the Holy Spirit worked in me. After that I gradually began to gain knowledge and appreciation of the Bible. Many of us, in camp, also experienced revival. Almost immediately afterward, my perspective on many things began to change. Anyone who experienced salvation for the first time probably has a similar type of experience.

My closing prayer and hope is this: that we return to the zeal, dedication, acceptance that was characteristic of this church’s beginning as "The Lord’s Planting". That we return to the time when everybody expressed acceptance and friendship of one another unconditionally at "a drop of a hat".

Now is the time to stay focused, keep faith, and not lose heart, bad economy and unstable times not withstanding. It would be good to close with this assurance from God in Jeremiah 29:11 to 14. "’For I know well the plans I have in mind for you’, says the Lord,’ plans for your welfare, not for woe, plans to give you a future full of hope. When you call Me, when you pray to Me, I will listen to you. When you look to Me, you will find Me. Yes, when you seek Me with all your heart, you will find Me with you’, says the Lord, ’and I will change your lot...’ " [NAB version].

Norman James Halbert
Sunday, August 14, 2011.

Earthquake!

2011-08-24T15:55:00.000-07:00

Cambridge, MA, near Central Square

It started off as a quiet day at work. I sat in front of my computer mulling over some tough questions in automations that had been stumping me for hours. Around 2:00PM, I overheard an IT guy commenting about feeling the house shaking.

"Weird!"

Keeping still, I could soon easily feel it too. The earth was oscillating at a steady rhythm, moving roughly in a north, south direction. It moved at about 2 beats per seconds. That was no heavy truck hitting a typical Cambridge pothole. Bouncing trucks always shake the house only for a few seconds. This lasted much longer and more steadily.

I answered, "I felt it too. You’re not imaging anything."

Throughout the shaking, I heard not the slightest noise. Fans may have drowned it out, but I have a feeling that even in the quietest environment, we would’ve not heard it. Nothing on my desk wobbled, thank goodness. The shaking was very mild. Many employees missed it. A nearby boy told us that he didn’t felt a thing.

Minutes passed before a sales rep told others that an earthquake had rocked the Virginia and DC area. Impressive how the force of rending fault-lines could be felt as far away as a 13-hour bus trip.

Six days ago, our church had a typical Wednesday prayer gathering. Yes, people prayed for the government, but nobody asked for an earthquake to swallow up the White House. I’m sure many in the congregation will be talking about the Virginia and Colorado quakes when they gather this coming Sunday.

White Water Rafting 2011

2011-08-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

For months, Leo organized the event. "Sign up early. The seats fill up fast," he admonishes. Leo, Jim, and myself were the first who signed up – simultaneously one sunny noon after Sunday service.

Friday, June 24, 2011

The morning started with a dreary, wet mist that showed no promise of ending any time soon. In spite of carefully pruning all except for the bare necessity for survival in the backwoods, my back-wrenching pile of luggage seemed no smaller than the bags carried during the previous two trips. The huge green duffel bag, faithfully transporting items for many years, held the sleeping bag, pillow, flashlight, and blankets. Another duffel bag, the newest addition to my vast collection of bags held bathing suit, booties, and other items that would get wet or muddy. I call it the dirt-bag. It held a special contribution to the camp, which should had come along in the first year. My EastPak backpack, a grizzled veteran of many trips since college held spare clothes and miscellaneous objects. The pile was huge, but most of that bulk served to keep me dry and warm. Normally, I tossed in one sleeping bag and one blanket. After reading the dreadful weather reports, another heavy blanket dropped in. I don’t like being cold.

As our tradition, Leo picked me up and drove to the church’s packing lot to wait for the others. A half-hour later with Leo’s convoy organized, we went our way to the rustic town of Ashby. Also traditional was visiting Ashby’s branch of Wal-Mart for last minute shopping.

At Wal-Mart, Jim purchased a set of speakers to connect his laptop he brought over, an older model of his two. Impressive! It alone probably costs more than everything stuffed into my three bulging bags. Last year, Elizabeth brought over her iPod and a portable stereo setup. She’s not coming that year. Arlene, with her famous coffeepot, couldn’t make it either. More than one camper missed their nice touches of civilization in the rustic site. It’s nice to see someone willing to take up her torch. Strange that my only piece of electronics packed was the cell phone – a cheap, dumb-down cell phone. It would’ve stayed behind like everything else if I didn’t expect important phone calls. I even left my watch behind. In spite of my computer and multimedia reputation in places as far as Florida, Hawaii, and beyond, I wouldn’t contribute any hi-fi wizardry to the little group. One reason is my two stereo systems don’t travel well. Another reason is that the care of electronics in the wet outside environment is very different than from the comfort of homes. A single mistake and the only sounds coming out of the speakers would be dying squeals.

Stuffing our faces in a Chinese buffet became a tradition over the years, and that day was no different. By afternoon, the little convoy of three cars rolled into the Pines Campground. Light drizzle still showed no sign of letting up. The owners were nice enough to set up a plastic tarp over the picnic table and camp’s fire pit. Unlike last year and the year before, people mostly set up their tents on their own.

Leo helped Jim set up his tent. It holds four people. He likes to think big and roomy. He also purchased an inflatable mattress for relief from the hard, rocky ground. Last year, he brought over, as camping gear, a sleeping bag and a plastic grocery bag filled with his gear. He borrowed Leo’s tent. Jim declared, "Never again", after suffering his long weekend pledge of poverty.

Sandra’s tent is a little smaller. Mine is, by far, the smallest in the camp. It can hold two, in intimate closeness, providing they’re not overweight. The funny thing is that Jim’s tent costs less than mine. A one-man tent is even more expensive. Jim helped me steady the unwieldy poles, but in general, I had no problems. Practicing saved a lot of valuable camp time. Leo’s sleeping in his van – on top of his two large metal toolboxes laid out end to end. Jeff and Ann Mann, husband and wife, splurged by renting a small camper.

Drizzle mixed with showers continued as the group visited the waterfalls for several group photos. Sandra took a quick dip in the stream by accident. Her foot slipped on the moss-covered rock, plunging her sneaker under. Removing the sole should quicken the drying process.

Jim’s aspiration to be the camp’s DJ turned into a disaster. He accidentally dented the paper speaker cone while lifting it out of the box. The cheap woofer had nothing protecting the paper cone. He never before handled a speaker with the paper cone located on the bottom of the box. While working as a DJ during his youth, Jim arranged many speakers. Metal grating always protected everything fragile. The wires to his new subwoofer, twin speakers, outlet, and the computer’s earphone connection immediately became tangled up. Jim finally connected it into the computer. It made not a peep. That cord needed to be plugged into an outlet. Back into the box. He had to be satisfied with his laptop’s tiny speakers. Weeks later, Jim eventually replaced it with a better quality stereo for his laptops.

One more piece of bad news was forgetting to bring his video camera’s charger. Already its charge indicator hovered at one bar, forcing him to be choosy what to record - a shame. Jim enjoys his hobby. Last fall, he recorded a video series of the Blue Hills hike.

Sandra and I passed the evening playing Ping-Pong. We both enjoyed ourselves. The only problem was the ball’s tendency to scoot into the most difficult to reach fissure between the arcade machines. Miraculously, we never lost our ball. In the process of hunting, I found two crushed ping pong balls.

The sky darkened and the drizzle deteriorated into rain. We huddle under the tarp, warming ourselves near the fire. We joked about the load of wood Leo brought over last year. He picked them up from the free scrap pile by the roadside construction site. They were almost impossible to burn. One group said they were treated with fire retardant. Another group said that they were still damp. My load of old Wall Street Journals became a big hit in starting the fires during our vacation. At last, we easily built up our fires into healthy engines for cooking and keeping warm. This turned out to be the first ECCOA camping trip I went where we didn’t need napalm and flame throwers.

Heat grew in importance as the evening sky darkens. To our disbelief, we could see our breaths – on the last weekend of June. Dense smoke from the fire drifted over the picnic table and against our face. Like clockworks, a small depression on the tarp filled up with rainwater; its weight pushed the load over the edge, creating a waterfall splattering into the ground. Everybody kept away from that edge. By common consent, we decided to turn in early to sleep. Tomorrow would come quickly enough. By 9:30, the camp quieted down.

The night wasn’t quite over with us yet. A bright flash woke me up close to midnight. Rumbling made very clear its cause. Lightning! And I’m lying beneath two high metal poles that would attract them things. Towering trees surrounded me. Hopefully, the bolts would travel through the poles into the ground without touching me. At the same time, Jim, bedding in a higher tent with more metal, had similar thoughts. For the rest of the night, no more lightning flashed to my relief.

Will comforting watery sound of the brook turn into a deadly roar of flood sweeping away our tents? My ears detected no change to the sound. After thinking it over, I decided that the camp owners wouldn’t be dumb enough to put campsites in a flood zone. I eventually drifted back to sleep in the midst of downpour pattering on the plastic sheets.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

The stream obediently kept to its boundaries, just as it did during the Great Thunderstorm of 2009. Back then, we planted a tent in a similar spot. Can’t believe I forgot that little fact last night. For good ventilation, I didn’t fully zip the rain fly on the front entrance. It worked well. Frigid wind blew through. Dense rain hissed for several minutes before I realized my mistake and sealed the entrance. Some water got in. Somehow, my new tent survived its baptism of water and mud. Sandra wasn’t so fortunate. Her tent had a hole. The foul weather found it easily enough and drenched the floor.

At dawn, Leo made sure everyone got up for breakfast. The little group of hardy campers felt amazed just how cold it got that early morning. Sandra needed to don her winter boots and coat. It may look silly on the last days of June, but she didn’t care. "I kept warm", she told us. Heavy shirt and spring corduroy jacket hugged my body. In spite of two layers of heavy blankets and a sleeping bag, I wished for more stored inside the bags.

Dave Pendleton, living in a trailer that trekked across a wide variety of America, potential hours worth of tales to share, cooked us a traditional breakfast of sausage, eggs or pancakes. It depends on our wish and the four dollars price is right. Karen Pendleton, his wife for many years, hung around to socialize.

Into the gloomy morning, our convoy of two cars departed. The Pendleton’s son wanted to go rafting with us, so he purchased a spot. We expected to meet Dennis and his wife, June at the Crabapple. They were driving all the way from Boston. Sadly, Kelly, who planned to ride with them from Dorchester and spend a night at the campsite, changed her mind and stayed home. We felt sorry that we would not share our experiences in the rapids with Kelly.

Regrettably, I forgot my old eyeglasses to wear on the raft and also forgot my bags of munchies for the road trip. Looked like I went a little overboard on packing as little as possible for the long weekend. Oh well. The munchies won’t go to waste. They’ll eventually be packed for my work lunches.

The ride blurred into an hours long fog of cheerless clouds, pristine forests, hills, and small towns hugging the road. Ahead of us, Dennis and June pulled into a fast food chain. Leo decided to join them at that point. We pulled over for a break and hunted for them. In spite of looking everywhere, we couldn’t find a trace. Leo called and discovered that they stopped at another branch located further down the road. Fast food chains all looked alike.

The weather brightened slightly when we pulled into the parking lot of Crabapple. With our greetings over, I quickly filled in the legal form agreeing that if I suffered permanent paralysis or died I won’t hold them responsible. The rapids are not completely tame in spite of its flow being controlled by the dams. People can get hurt no matter how many precautions they take.

After that being settled, I rented a full wetsuit, booties included, for twenty dollars. As a certified scuba diver, I respect cold water. With time, the exposure can turn harmless discomfort into a dangerous hindrance. Harder exercise won’t help the continuous shivering. It only causes exhaustion, making him more susceptible to the cold. Instead, he must remove himself from the wet right away. Water conducts heat twenty times more efficiently than air. A swimmer can become chilled after immersed long enough, even in waters at a tropical 86 degrees. A wetsuit works by providing a thick layer of insulation. By minimizing the water circulation, it allows the body to easily warm the water touching the skin. Consequently, they must be tight. If putting it on is a fifteen minutes struggle, then you picked the correct size.

The night passed with unbelievably frigid temperature; downpours made it worst. Heavy clouds still blanketed the area. We won’t be seeing any 86 degree waters here. Almost everyone had the foresight to rent wetsuits. June decided to wear a clear plastic bag, tinted red, to protect her from the spray.

I could get by without a wetsuit by dressing warmly. The rafters are simply getting splashed. They’re not scuba diving. Any sweater and jacket may work well enough, as long as they aren’t out of cotton. They’re no good when wet. With my camping wardrobe all spun from cotton, I need that wetsuit. Wearing cotton clothing and sleeping between blankets probably out of cotton for the three camping trips that have a reputation of cold, drenching rains showed that I still have a lot to learn about roughing it out. I need lots of purchases ahead if I wish to be labeled as a serious camper.

To my astonishment, Jim brought his video camera, protected by a Ziploc bag, for the rafting. He expected that tucking it inside his life jacket should keep it safe – maybe. That HD recorder probably costs almost as much as his laptop. Because of his fearlessness, he would be capturing more interesting imagery than whatever my camera will get while sitting uselessly inside my closet. He would, providing it doesn’t drop into the drink.

I left my good glasses behind in the car. They’re too expensive to risk losing. Waves had ripped away diving masks held securely by heavy-duty straps. Once, a woman fell off the raft and lost her sandal. A guide ignored it floating pass while helping her. Crabapple frowns on employees showing concern over material things when a life is at risk. A flimsy eyeglass holder wrapped around my head probably gives nothing more than a false sense of security. Spending the next few hours without eyeglasses shouldn’t cause any hardships. I can still see clearly enough to not crash the raft into the rocks. Besides, the guide’s steering, not me.

After the guides finished teaching their brief raft class, our group boarded the bus and set us on our way to the final leg. The wetsuit and floatation vest felt hot.

Partway up, the guides pointed out Zoar Gap. It was an endless stretch of raging water striving mightily to tear boulders off their bedrock and bitterly pound them into our pitiful rafts that would soon intrude into their territory. Current howled hateful noises, describing hideous ways it kills. It dared man to pit their weak muscle against the miles long mass of grinding, bulging river. "Oh Shoot!" It looked like a crazy thing to do. I try to keep myself reasonably healthy from long walks and can swim proficiently since childhood, but I need more – like maybe being born on planet Krypton.

Along Deerfield river, Fife Brook section, the rapids we’ll face range from class I to class III. Class I is the easiest. Zoar Gap is class III, the most difficult section of our trip. If you’re not careful, you’ll soar from your raft. Because of the heavy rain, the river flowed unusually fast that day. A guide upped Zoar Gap to class III+. The classification system can get subjective because of the wide variety of factors to consider. Obviously, the faster currents receive higher number. It also takes into account of the type of boat used. Crabapple’s large 6-man inflatable raft makes the trip easier because of its excellent stability. It rarely flips over. Using a kayak would give the same rapids a higher number. Colder water gives the rapids a more difficult grade – one more hazard to take into account. The rapids’ isolation from civilization also makes a difference. Our river runs close to the road, making a rescue easy, bringing down the classification number.

In time, the intimidating stretch disappeared behind us. The bus trip took on a feeling of a fantasy school field trip. Every person seated inside wanted to come. They sensed an expectation of an exciting adventure. Truthfully, a few felt anxious. Anticipation built with every mile nearer to the launching point.

Our group briefly clustered at the parking lot before walking down the steep hill to the collection of blue rafts. Hopping in went smoothly and we shoved off. Our rafts flew at a pretty fast clip once the current took hold. The ten-mile trip may take between three to four hours.

Rowing is easy enough to synchronize during the smooth stretch by watching the rower directly in front. But when rapids hits, paddles clattered against each other from the distractions. During one peaceful stretch, a freight train rumbled by. The cars seemed to stretch on and on. I thought of my long-time friend’s train collection while they rolled along the tracks clinging precariously on the steep tree covered hills. The scenery is absolutely fantastic. One of the main reasons I took the rafting trip is to sightsee. Raft, jet, feet – all are useful tools employed in the art of seeing new panorama beyond my apartment.

Signs ahead warned boaters that they would not experience smooth sailing beyond the bend. Some still haven’t yet mastered the paddling. Our guide told us his plan. First, we paddle with all our strength to get into the best position. Then we hold on while the rafts absorb the river’s wrath. Knives and some sharp rocks may tear the tough raft, but punctures should not be a problem. Everyone left his arsenal of knives behind, instinctively understanding the unwritten rule, "No whittling allowed!" The river smoothed all the rocks a long time ago – probably before grandma was born. Unlike the Titanic, multiple compartments divided the rafts; leaks won’t easily sink us.

The guide described when a young and foolish man decided to brave the gap alone. He floated on a pathetic inner tube with another inner tube, holding his beer supply, trailing behind. A rope connected the two. Of course, they both flipped over, losing the refreshment. Our guide later salvaged a pristine can of beer lying underwater on the riverbed. More may be waiting underwater somewhere.

Our raft slipped though upright. We got splashed during the speedy ride, but everyone held on. Wedging my feet under the inflated seat helped me stay aboard. The rest of our convoy safely slid through the treacherous gauntlet of rocks and roaring waters, except for one. Awesome power of foaming water rammed it dead center onto a massive boulder. The swollen current forced the raft forward and on top of the unmovable rock until it could move no further. Jammed! A young girl flew off a raft into the merciless grasp of the rapids. She slammed against a boulder and tried to hold on. Moments later, the river swept her off. Her head went under. A guide had to hold the girl’s mother to keep her from jumping overboard after her distressed daughter. She could do nothing other than watch the drama. Hand over the popcorn please. Jumping in would’ve done nothing except forcing the guides to rescue one more person. Of the three rescue techniques they taught before sending us to the river, none required leaving the safely of the raft.

The girl’s head popped out of the water. A pair of oars floated passed our raft. "Nose and Toes" was the term drilled to the group during their safety lectures. A guide yelled for the girl to keep her feet up. She speedily responded. The river is shallower than it looks, often not deep enough to cover an adult’s legs. If her foot caught on a rock, the current could push her underwater, ending with a drowning.

The lead raft was the closest to the girl. A guide, sitting on the stern, tossed a perfectly aimed rope at the swimmer, making sure the rope’s end flew well behind her. She grabbed the easily reachable line and he pulled her into the raft in no time. The guide even managed to salvage the two oars soon afterwards. The mother must’ve experienced agony in wanting to do something, anything to be by her daughter’s side. The shaken girl’s staying on the raft and what a raft - filled with rough-looking men, hungry men. They stared at the little girl. Some have missing teeth. How many were raised in broken families? How many grew up in the gangster infested inner city? At least one still lives deep within the urban jungle. He takes pride in his bass belch that could strum the tent walls like a guitar string. What happened to their shaving kits? Did they eat the razor blades? Another had been scratching his crotch since launch. The girl cried.

In time, the convoy moved to a safe spot in the river, allowing the frightened girl to reunite with her mother. The men handed over the lost oars. She was unharmed and never was in any danger. Even in jail, child molesters rank lowest in the hierarchy – forever stuck in the despised untouchable caste. The girl reassured the concerned guide that her tears came only from the helpless feeling of being caught swimming in the rapids. It certainly is a scary experience. Some adults refuse to go white water rafting because of their fear of falling overboard.

A few minutes after the adventure, we gratefully parked our rafts and ate our picnic lunch. Rapids and hard paddling can bring a hearty appetite. The sandwiches tasted so good. While building our sandwiches, the clouds thinned and sunshine broke through. Blessed rays lifted our spirits. It had been so long since we saw your bright face.

Throughout the first half of the journey, I expected to hear a tiny splash, then curses echoing along the lush hills, polluting them. But Jim held onto his camera and kept it dry. He handed his precious trove of new memories over to the bus driver for transporting to headquarters. Success! His risk paid off handsomely.

In time, we shoved off for the second half. A good-size water brawl drenches a guy about the same as falling in the river. Even Jim has a limit in tolerating risks. Nothing stays dry after enemy boaters prime their artillery and come after you. Commonly, heaving streams of water drench the friendlies solely because they got in the way. Some eagerly gaze at the twin water buckets at the bow. It’s going to be a great battle.

Uh No! We moved too far ahead. We’re missing the action. Hard paddling seemed to do no good. Much later, Dennis and June’s boat pulled behind us and we got into a good drenching water duel. June still wore her plastic bag, but all it did was paint a bright target for buckets full of water to aim. We had to cut it off short because a man who didn’t rent a wetsuit shivered from the cold. The frigid water shocked my skin after every hit. Renting the wetsuit was a great investment.

Nobody did the wheelie that day because the current flowed too fast. It also all too quickly brought our rafts to our ultimate destination.

Nobody in our convoy fell into the river except for one girl. Not like last year when several people tumbled into the river. They’re usually overweight, to the regrets of the guides’ aching backs. The guides struggled mightily to drag some people aboard. Meanwhile, many skinny and small people tenaciously gripped the cord and hung on. In all, our rugged little group did very well that day in the challenging river.

While waiting for our bus to pick us up, a loud, piercing hiss cracked the quiet forest atmosphere. The voice of radioactive mutant bobcat and 40 foot anaconda erupted with fury. What in the world was that? More hissing noise burned. It turned out to be the workers deflating the rafts to make them easier to transport to the starting point. They were so pressurized that I could drum pretty good beats against the walls. The raft was hard enough to make sitting on them uncomfortable after an hour or so. I had visions of us getting launched into the air if we sprung a leak.

We all returned for a wonderful feast of barbecued chicken. We also had to deal with the wreckage from the drenching rains. Jim’s new tent leaked badly. Nobody knew exactly what went wrong. My best theory was that they might have incorrectly positioned the rain fly. During the night, raindrops dripped on his face like Chinese water torture. Worst, the dripping water and puddles seeped deeply into his laptop sitting on the floor. He dried it as best as he could, but it refused to power on. He placed it near the heater inside Mann’s camper to let it continue drying, but it still stayed in a coma. During the long weekend, the couple became popular for sharing their luxuries. Jim hoped that turning on the laptop’s power would warm up the unit enough to evaporate the moisture. Nobody had any idea how much arcing shot across wet circuitry while the machine was on. During my years as a computer scientist, I had seen some pretty sensational electrical failures – smoke, buzzing, sparks, the works. This had promised to be another spectacle to talk about, maybe even better than the time someone accidentally vaporized part of the plug to his vacuum cleaner. Break out the marshmallows.

Jim’s laptop stayed inert. Only the power light worked. He gave up and put it away. With the darkening sky, came our traditional fire. Leo swung his axe to split the wood. Last year, he used a power saw. The newspaper came in handy again. The only problem was flaming pieces of paper floating too far from the fire. Tissues made an even worst nuisance. Jim loves campfires. He could spend hours tending with the wood. Under the protective tarp, we expressed admiration of the raft guide’s quick thinking when rescuing the girl. We also jeered at the Keystone FBI, blundering along – always several steps behind Whitey Bulger. People debated whether the captured man really was Whitey or a fall guy.

Meanwhile, a second group hung outside the cabin, inside the roofed patio. One person living in the backwoods owns a fancier cell phone than what many people at work use. Someone also installed a more sophisticated wireless LAN communication system in the campground than the one that doesn’t exists in my apartment. That camp’s laptop runs rings around my home PC, the one used for writing my blogs. Feels humbling.

A lady observed her fiftieth birthday. To celebrate, people passed around the cake. "Do It! Do It! Do It!" people chanted. Succumbing to peer-pressure, they both jumped up and briefly wrestled. She nailed another woman with the plate full of frosting. In return, a plate landed on her face. Dessert smeared on her new Bruins Stanley Cup 2011 champion shirt she wore. She had a lot of trouble finding that shirt too. She cleaned it as best as she could. The camp manager washed off the deck with a hose. It started raining after the dinner and never let up. No need to worry about water conservation.

The night was still pretty young when we went to sleep under the sound of pattering rain. Sandra stayed dry this time thanks to Leo covering her tent with a plastic tarp. I stayed dry. A heavy blanket under my sleeping bag worked well as insulation and a buffer against possible seepage. It took an edge off of the hard ground.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

The rains drenched the campgrounds worst than the 2009 thunderstorm that forced a number of campers to leave for home. In spite of the wet vacation, not a single person in camp quit. My hat’s off to the rugged men and women who toughed it out. Just like 2009, we experienced one shining silver lining from the rains. Not one mosquito bothered me. They don’t have adequate rain jackets. Judging from the big buckets of rains crashing down during the night, wet suits seemed like the best items to wear.

Having the camping trip so early in the summer caused some controversy. Several rather wait for mid July or early August, which comes with nicer weather. Seeing ones’ breaths tend to bring that issue up. Leo replied that more people are available on late June. During the lazy days of July and August, most probably drift away on vacations making any kind of scheduling impossible.

My early bird habit woke me up before everyone else. Cleaning the tent before packing it sounded like a good idea. Where to hang my tent for cleaning? Good question. Many places have sharp points or splinters. Maybe next time, a clothesline, to tie from one tree to another, would be part of the gear. I removed my sleeping gear and packed them. Not long afterwards, Jim exited his tent and built a cheery fire one last time. Thick smoke threatened my tent. Not wanting the ash to dirty it, I lifted the whole thing up, plastic floor-mat and all, and carried it away. Compact is convenient. Most of my stuff sat in Leo’s van. He’s still sleeping. Reluctant to disturb him, I went for a short walk along the road deeper into the campsite, in parts never before seen.

A few employees hanging out on their porches greeted me. They lived in trailers, but have land to satisfy their creativity itch. One guy has Native American decoration, but that doesn’t mean anything. I own souvenir from Hong Kong and Brasil, but never traveled overseas. Another man built a fence out of sticks held together by string. An arch out of wooden branches rose from his path leading to the front door. We had fun passing the time talking.

In time, the campers put away their gear under the clear sky. Sunshine warmed up the site enough for a swim, in spite of the water still chilled a touch above freezing. We all felt impressed how clean they kept the water in spite of the large number of trees. I remember seeing one lake covered, one weekend, by billions of dead insects. The manager felt a sense of pride from its clarity. He runs the filter pumps 24/7. Any less, the pool clouds up. He learned that the hard way. The pool is a demanding taskmaster – rebuking anyone slacking off with murky waters nearly impossible to clean. The manager also discouraged people from jumping in wearing clothing or sun block. It would help if he installed an outdoor shower to encourage people to wash themselves before taking a dip.

All morning and noon went past comfortably. We enjoyed our last sun-brightened hours in camp, then sadly set off for home in Dorchester or Quincy.

The unpacking went smoothly. The small tent helps. Clothes went through the laundry machines. Some still smell smoky, but that mattered little. The ratty clothing should’ve been tossed into the trashcan a long time ago. They were spared only because they were my best camping outfit. My gear was then filed away under "Survivalist", ready for the next trip. Hours later, we gathered back at church for an ice cream Sunday event with plenty to talk about. As for Jim’s crippled laptop, after returning home, he successfully turned it on and downloaded his vacation videos to it. That’s one tough computer.

Church’s Bell

2011-05-08T06:55:00.000-07:00

History

Ringing the church’s bell once again was one of the first conventions that Francis established after the members voted him in as pastor. Every Sunday morning at ten, before the service, somebody pulls the heavy rope cord, announcing to the neighborhood that the church is open for worship. John Broderick had fun with it one Sunday while his son, Robert held tightly as the rope pull him upwards off his feet. At first, some people worried about whether the aging tower can withstand the pounding. An inspection made the committee confident it could. Besides, a well-balanced bell doesn’t put a very large strain on the structure, even if it’s a massive, swinging, hunk of metal. Claudio Poles soon volunteered to ring the bell every Sunday.

Once more the sound rings throughout the neighborhood. I can easily hear it several blocks away, depending on the wind. That bell has been around since well before 2003, when I started attending the Evangelical Church of Atlantic. The bell existed before the congregation voted in Pastor Bill. When the present church building was just a cornerstone planted during the summer of 1910, the bell was a familiar item of the congregation – an old friend faithfully serving.

I was timid when first given a chance to pull the cord. Vigorously ringing an antique can feel a bit disquieting. It’s the same idea as banging on an 1896 Morgan Silver Dollar with a hammer. I grew up learning about the Liberty Bell, world renown for cracking. For a number of years, my only impression of bells was that they weren’t much better than champagne glasses. But, as the decades pass by, the church’s bell has proven itself to be a sturdy machine.

Cast on 1896, its voice called out to many generations living near the church. Other than the deed of the land, little has lasted longer or has more influence than the church’s bell. I thought that my readers would enjoy reading about its early history.

It all started during the summer of 1896. The church services enjoyed their largest congregation in their history. Excluding the Easter Service, the Sunday morning service on July 20, 1896 had the largest number of souls seated on the pews for the year. Rev. Edward Norton, the church’s pastor, preached on Revelation 21:1 – the new Heaven and Earth (version 2.0). The congregation listened enraptured to his phenomenal discourse. During that service he announced that Mr. Henry H. Faxon has presented the church with a bell as a free gift. The church committee was instructed to order one of the very finest to be fashioned from the renowned Blake Bell Foundry, of Boston. Members appreciated the expensive gift, expecting that it would serve a noble purpose to the Atlantic village within a few weeks. Men and women waited in anticipation for their bell to begin ringing a joyful noise announcing the Sabbath worships – adding its voice to the greetings of churches from other wards in Quincy.

Meanwhile, the church had much preparation work to do. Workers needed to erect a tower to hang the bell. The main house didn’t have enough room to fit it. After close to 11 years since first opening its doors, the small chapel began to look a little shabby. They planned to make some improvements and repairs to spiff it up.

On August, Rev. Edward Norton took a vacation. He planned several short trips. Sunday services continued without interruptions. Rev. Roger M Sargent of St. Louis preached on August 2.

Out from the depth of the Earth, refined ore eventually found their way into Boston’s foundry. Men poured molten metal into the mold on the first week of August 1896, giving birth to the Memorial Congregational church, Atlantic first bell. It would be tuned to play the key of G. At roughly the same time laborers finished the belfry’s foundation. The bell was custom made. Below is a picture of it.

On one side is the text:

BLAKE BELL CO

PRESENTED TO THE
MEMORIAL CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH
ATLANTIC.

HENRY H FAXON
1896.

On the other side was:

BOSTON MASS 1896

Below the city and state was an icon.

On Sunday, August 9, 1896, Rev. Granville of Dighton served as guest speaker for worship service. During the week, workers commenced construction on the new belfry.

Finally, on Monday afternoon, August 24, laborers hung the bell in its new dwelling. Before the last rays of the setting sun disappear behind the horizon, someone rang it for the first time. Its soft and sweet tone carried throughout the village. While reflecting upon the bell tower tremendous improvement to the church, everyone remarked, "Now why was not that done at first?"

The fall was greeted in grand style on Sunday, September 5. Fresh coats of paint and the new bell tower rejuvenated the chapel. The congregation decided to wait until Mr. Norton’s return from his vacation before ringing the bell to announce the coming Sunday service. A sea of cut flowers blanketed the pulpit and piano, and a large crowd welcomed the pastor, refreshed from his break. People enjoyed listening to the quartette’s singing.

Even though the bell was put into use for calling people to worship, it was not quite finished yet. The final work would need to wait until spring of next year.

Bitter frost began to fade into the residences’ collective memory towards the last week of April. Finally, after more than six months of nothing, they installed the striker for the bell. On Friday morning, the gratified residence heard the 7 O’clock stroke. It sounded a little dead on the first ring, but they expected a few adjustments would improve the quality so the bell may be distinctly heard throughout the Atlantic Village.

Calling people to church isn’t the sole purpose of the church bell. It’s much bigger than that. Between late April and early May, they installed a fire alarm hammer. On Friday, possibly May 7, 1897 the church called out its first fire alarm in commanding style. People from all over Atlantic Village distinctly heard its voice.

After proving itself during the summer, people probably felt confident that the church would be a reliable in public service. The engine house removed its small bell by the first week of September. The church bell alone would be sounding the fire alarms for the Atlantic Village. Quincy Patriot never mentioned it, but the church probably also gave the "No School" signals as well.

Not long after the first ringing of the church’s bell during August and September of 1896, many families expressed their wish for the Memorial Congregational church, Atlantic to use the new bell to play the "No School" signal during snowstorms. Parents had complained that they couldn’t perceive the wimpy engine house bell ringing over blowing winds and sound deadening snow. Kids often never hear the "No School" signals, risking a dangerous hike though frigid snow banks and stinging winds, only to reach a closed school. Wasted efforts!

Quincy Patriot reported only one instance when the fire alarm failed to ring during spring and summer trials. It all started late at night on the Fourth of July, 1897. High-spirited Atlantic boys had in their mind to make some loud noise at midnight. They carefully strung a fish line across a field, up the tower, holding its bell, and attached one end to the fire alarm hammer. Amazingly, they managed to hide the elaborate setup from the paroling police, in spite of the officers hearing rumors about the plot. At their first ceremonial pull, the string broke with an almost inaudible snip. The neighborhood slept on, blissfully unaware. Their hunt for better string failed, forcing the boys to abandon their prank.

Research Work

Someone had years ago requested a publication on the bell’s history. It took me a while for two reasons. First, the records in my personal library didn’t state the exact date or year the church specifically purchased the bell. Another problem was that my faithful SLR camera gave up the ghost before getting the chance to photograph the bell. A high quality image is important to read the words for record comparisons.

Completely by chance, I came across several articles on the church bell, while browsing through the Quincy Patriot microfilms in the Thomas Crane Public Library, Quincy. Then, I was researching on whether the first chapel actually burned down before they built the present granite structure. Since the newspaper never mention anything about a church fire between 1896 and 1910, It probably didn’t happen. The workers dismantled the first chapel. Below are publication dates from the Quincy Patriot newspaper, which are used as sources.

August 1, 1896 – church announced purchase of new bell.
August 8, 1896 – the week bell was cast. Completion of the belfry’s foundation. Guest speaker.
August 15, 1896 – completion of the belfry. Another guest speaker.
August 29, 1896 – installation of the new bell.
September 5, 1896 – "No School" signal. Church’s renovations.
September 12, 1896 – Pastor’s return from vacation.
May 1, 1897 – bell’s striker installed.
May 15, 1897 – first fire alarm.
July 10, 1897 – failed prank with the bell.
September 4, 1897 – removal of the small bell in the engine house.

Not long after splurging on a new camera, I went up to the bell tower. Leo led the way. A few girls came along. With dark room and cramped quarters making it a challenging work, I had trouble getting all the words. Focusing is not easy because of the bell’s curvature. Next time, a good sturdy tripod should help, allowing a higher aperture f-number. Still, the text imprinted on the bell came out clear enough to read. Yes, it perfectly matches what was reported on the newspaper. It’s the original bell, molded in 1896.

The congregation may be interested in knowing a few details about the factory that made the bell, so I went to the Boston Public Library, Copley Square for more research. Today, if not using the Internet, we use the yellow pages or white pages to find businesses or people. During 1896, they just call it the Boston Directory. Then, most businesses don’t have phones, but plenty do and list them – commonly a city name along with three or four digits.

It was a challenge finding the microfilms. They were in a file cabinet tucked into a corner, second floor. Below is a partial reprint of the directory’s title page:

The Boston directory containing the city record, directory of the citizens, business directory and street directory,
No. XCII.
For the year commensing July 1 1896
Boston:
Sampson, Murdock, & Company,
155 Franklin Street

It has the name, occupation, and address of everybody living in Boston. That may be useful in researching people if necessary. It also has the complete listing of companies. The index of contents had no listings for "Bell" or "Foundry". I had better luck matching the company’s name with the index to advertisements.

The advertisement, on page 2017, turned out to be simple. It took up only a quarter page, common in those days. It had no illustrations and no phone number:

Blake Bell Co. Manufacturers of bells for churches, fire alarms, factories, school houses, &c.
Bronze tablets, brass and bronze castings.
Finished brass work.
Corner Allen and Brighton streets
Boston, Mass.

Ordination Service of Rev. Francis S.K. Balla

2011-01-16T06:42:00.000-08:00

Sunday, June 27, 2010

The evening service promised to be formal, and it kept that oath. Pastors and Elders, weighted down with severe responsibilities, participated. They appreciate more than I do the importance of a good pastor. The neighborhood, along with everyone in the church, expects Francis to be a sturdy pillar to lean onto in times of sorrows. Not only is Francis is a pillar, he’s a map gently guiding us to an infinitely more sturdy pillar of Jesus. We all accepted the decision of the Pastors and Elders and expect them to be trustworthy. Other than the music, where the Worship Team and the audience all may make a joyful noise, few members had any roles in the service. Besides Pastor Francis, Don Johnson was the only one worthy to make a speech and it was just a scripture reading. Christian Education, Mission, Treasurer, Trustee, Historian, and others watched in the background. Nobody in the church board did the Laying On of Hands.

I had much difficulty in readjusting to such a drastic change of culture. A large group and I recently returned from the Pines Campground. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were a blur of rustic lifestyle. We slept in tents, floors gritty from sand. Sunday breakfast was inside a trailer, which rolled through many states in America. Saturday’s breakfast was just grabbing anything bread-like and departing to western Massachusetts. We took a brief bus trip, shirtless men standing in the aisle, balancing themselves by pushing their hands against the ceiling. Our baths consisted of a water fight in the river and going into the swimming pool. Throughout the vacation, we told hillbilly stories. Christians ain’t afraid of no ghosts, so we never bothered with spooky tales in the campground.

I still wore my old T-shirt and even older pair of sneakers – not yet having a chance to return home. My green duffel bag sat in the van, waiting to be unpacked. I didn’t fit in very well; my thoughts were focused on the deep woods hours away. The service went smoothly, lead by responsible people. I’m happy to see Francis accomplish one of his goals. The Congregationalist Church had ordained Francis. Next up is about that Ph.D.

Order of Service

Invocation: William Glover
Hymn/Song of worship: Worship Team
Statement of the Vicinage Council: Rev Jack Swanson
Scripture reading: Don Johnson
Ordination Sermon: Rev Stan Johnson
Hymn/Song of worship: Worship Team
Vows of ordination:
Prayer/laying on of hands: All Pastors and Elders in attendance
Hymn/Song of worship: Worship Team
Benediction: Rev Francis S.K. Balla
Fellowship dinner in the fellowship hall

The Ordination Process

Perhaps the ordination service will feel more relevant to myself if I can understand the definition of an ordination. I asked Pastor Francis and he gave me the details which I explained below.

First, I like to explain the, "What’s in it for me" question. An average person will probably fall into a mental daze trying to continue reading my boring list of traditions nobody can relate to. I can understand. Most people I trained in computers learn much better when involved in the process rather than sitting in the background passively watching a lecture. Ordinations do have a number of benefits. Ordained pastors can perform marriages in the church, baby dedications, baptism, and other church related rites that help people in their life processes. They are called ecclesiastical duties. Sunday services are another task for the ordained minister. The members can feel confident that his teachings are trustworthy.

The ordination is a process where a council, made up of clergies, examines a candidate to test his doctrine, his call, to see whether he has all the necessary credentials to pastor a church. Once the candidate passed, the local clergy will lay hands on him and announce his ordination.

The process towards ordination is a long road. When Francis graduated from Gordon Seminary, he became a licensed minister for the Assemblies of God. A licensed minister is eligible to perform some duties in a church. The Assemblies of God never had ordained him. Francis needed to serve as a licensed minister for two years before applying to be ordained. Once ready, Francis sent his paper for the council to examine. It’s called the ordination paper.

After Francis presented his paper, then he will be questioned on theological topics to prove that he has a good grasp of the Bible. The questioning process was done in Francis’ church, inside the sanctuary. He stood below the platform in front of the podium, with the council. The clergy doing the interview is called the vicinage council. It comprised of various ministers and clergies from different evangelical, congregational churches. The questions were tough, but he didn’t face them alone. Francis’ friends, as spectators, gave him moral support, like fans lining the sidewalks cheering the tired marathoners onwards towards their distant finish line. Some of the board members were present. The moderator, Bill Glover was there along with Dee Spellman, the clerk. Don Johnson, one of the trustees was there. One of the deacons, Patrick Deavan, attended. Even Pam Glover, Bill’s wife, showed up in spite of not being in the council.

One question that stuck most in Francis’ mind is what he does to evangelize the church; how does he reach the wandering people who expressed no interest in forming a relationship with Christ. It has been a challenging and thought provoking question to Francis because evangelizing to people is hard in Boston. He found that back in his home country of India, people are so much more open minded and easier to talk to when compared to Boston. Francis is spurring his church to spread the Gospel and help people in befriending Christ. Francis has been organizing events to do that, like children evangelism and fellowship outreach. He has his hands on the project, but has found it challenging. With the questions finished, the vicinage council walked out satisfied.

If someone wishes to be ordained, what should he do first? Most importantly, he must feel that he’s called to be a minister. He should love the job of running the church. He should feel called to serve God full time as a pastor, as a minister of the gospel. It all depends on what God will lead him to do. Of course, God may rather have the guy become a schoolteacher, computer technician, or in numerous other positions that keep this country together. After he’s certain that he will do well in the role as a minister, he’ll take formal theological training, to the master degree level. Expect a lot of hard studying. After graduation, he will then lead a church as the pastor. Once he settle down as pastor, he could apply for ordination, and have all his credentials verified. Finally he may be called reverend after passing the examination.

Church Council Election

2010-06-20T07:04:00.000-07:00

2009 Election Recap

About a year ago, I’d written about the church council being too small and Bill Glover, the moderator, thoughts on reducing the number of council meetings to four times a year instead of every month. On the board’s first meeting after the 2009 all church election, the council voted to meet four times a year. The board meetings still drone for too many hours. People have expressed frustration with the difficulties in scheduling various committees to discuss the numerous fires that need putting out. Wanting to discuss the finance committee issues during general board meetings can be a serious temptation with everyone they wanted to see available and the possibility of seeing them all together again uncertain. The new system generally has worked well enough. Reducing the twelve meetings down to four per year eased the burden. Soon after the 2009 election, two more joined the board through a special election. They probably wouldn’t sign up if the council had continued to meet monthly.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

After Sunday service, we had potluck lunch before the all church meeting. One guy commented about a white American man cooking Chinese food and a Vietnam immigrant woman cooking an American dish. Everything tasted delicious. Eating lunch before the meeting worked out great except it pushed the meeting too late into the afternoon. Two-third of the church’s members must be present for the meeting to be valid. Already many members left for home. If two more step out, then the remaining members cannot vote. Bill, the moderator, would need to reschedule the meeting and perhaps the potluck with it. While the officers read their reports and answered questions, one more person left and another said that she would need to leave soon. The moderator interrupted the reports after the trustee finished to allow the remnant to vote the officers in.

The election itself went very smoothly. The members voted for everyone in the ballot. Except for the Deacons and the Trustees, who may have multiple people in each position, every office in the board has exactly one person in the ballot. I don’t know how healthy a democracy is without competition during the past three elections, but I would like to see more choices of names in the ballot. Maybe with no end in sight for the Great Recession of the Twenty First Century, many were too busy for volunteer work. Hopefully, future church growth will fix that.

After the counters carefully verified the votes, more people left, ending any more chance for voting. The final officers read their report, but the moderator cannot close the meeting because he needed a vote to accept the reports. Technically, the meeting won’t end until that final vote. It won’t happen until next Sunday. The meetings are definitely persisting too long.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Sunday service arrived. Bill Glover was joking about the incredible length of time the meeting had been going. He imagined Jesus marking down his lifetime’s achievement. "That’s Bill, the moderator who officiated the longest running meeting in the Congregational Church’s 125 year history." For a while he expected that it would not close that Sunday as well. By the time Sunday Service finished, Bill counted exactly the minimum number of members needed to close the meeting. Ten minutes later, they unanimously voted to accept the minutes, accept the reports, and left.

The Board Members

Seeing most of the board members lined up in the altar that Sunday shows graphically just how many councilors are needed to run a small church. A crowd of men and women filled the front. Another thing the audience will notice is that out of 13 board members, 11 are white, one from Cape Verde, and another is black. The low number of minorities in the church council has nothing to do with dislike of people from other race. The pastor will not tolerate that sort of antagonism. Once, I saw him convince two men who angrily stormed out of the room to return for reconciliation. The pastor is in a mixed marriage. Several people in the board are in mixed marriages – for many years. At least two of them who’re not have done missionary work with foreigners. Seeing such a low number of non-whites in a board made me curious. How did it happen? This would make an interesting investigation report.

It turned out that the nominating committee did ask Frank, an Asian American immigrant, to come aboard, but he declined. Elizabeth Barbosa, another Asian was on the council, but she had to leave because of her crushing schedule of other church activities and college. Rosa, the second Cape Verde immigrant in the church used to be in the council, but after serving three terms, she decided to declined the offers for reelection. She commented that council work takes up a tremendous amount of time. She wanted to take a break to bring her busy personal life in order and see where God will lead her. She expressed high regard to the new clerk. During one church meeting, several years ago, a member nominated Linh Johnson, an immigrant from Vietnam, to be a treasurer, but she declined. "I’m too nice," she told the listening church members.

Don Johnson told me that Asian immigrants often have difficulties adjusting to the American democratic culture. They need time to gain fluency of English and the church’s leadership culture before they could feel comfortable joining the board. They need to feel their way around before they find their niche.

The lack of racial diversity was probably from circumstances beyond the church’s control or a statistical fluke - no big deal. From what I see, the nomination committee made fine choices in the selection of the board and the church agreed. A self-employed plumber and two carpenters filled the trustees positions. They will be responsible for the church building. One Deacon has faithfully taught Sunday school for years. A successful business owner is the treasurer. He has proven himself in fiscal responsibility. The woman in Christian Education runs the kids church. The historian has two library cards and knows how to use them. A BA in English doesn’t hurt. Everybody in the council has served in the church in other ministries or has been reliable attendees for many years.

The church board sounds like a respectable position and it is, but the council doesn’t hold a monopoly in power. Beyond the board are numerous committees. The church worship band is more visible. Members and non-members often play together. They also have quality equipment. The church has several ministries, all requiring leaders. Countless planning meetings for Harvest parties and other activities gather after Sunday services. All are welcomed to come and share their thoughts.

Harvey J, Smith (4-29-1920 – 9-16-2009)

2010-03-07T06:32:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

The night arrived dark and stormy. The gloomy sky had long since emptied its contents onto Quincy streets. While I walked along the sidewalk parallel to Wollaston Beach, occasional waves thudded against the seawalls – sometimes with enough force to soar above the top as ghostly fingers. After they reach their height, they curled downward in a classic wave break pattern. Cold wind, blasting from Quincy Bay, disintegrated the waves’ outer skin and sprayed seawater deep into Quincy Shore Drive. For long seconds, I listen in amazement as driven drops pattered onto the two-lane asphalt. Waves of that magnitude inside the protected bay were unusual. It was the worst that I had seen since moving to Quincy years ago. That night gave us the perfect atmosphere for a dying person.

After giving up in frustration from trying to improve the horrible reception of my TV antenna, I slipped onto my sneakers and coat to meet face to face the moody weather. I won’t be seeing my favorite show – This Old House. As I experience my own struggles at 8:00PM that night, Harvey Smith breathed his last and met with Jesus on the other side. I eventually flopped into bed that night without a clue about the news.

September 20, 2009

James Facada was enjoying his Sunday talk to his friend, Tom McManus, on the phone. At the time, Tom was resting in his vacation home in Martha's Vineyard, off Cape Cod. No streetlights or apartment lamps stained the nighttime sky. Tom was able to experience the multitude of stars in their full glory in front of the utterly black canvas. As James mentioned Harvey’s name and began describing his life, Tom interrupted him with a gasp. A shooting star ripping through the tenuous atmosphere at the boundary of outer space caught his eye. The speeding grain slammed into the occasional atoms of gas with such force that it was consumed in a few seconds, leaving behind a spectacular show of incandescent heat.

That meteor made James reflect about Harvey’s passion for the Lord and his departure, leaving behind many influenced by his shining examples. Hebrews chapters 11 and 12 spoke into James mind. James felt that Harvey had sent that shooting star as a reminder that he joined the huge cloud of witnesses, still active in encouraging the Christians walking the Earth.

"A biography on Harvey would make an awesome blog," James thought.

September through December - My Thoughts

Warnie, C. S. Lewis’ brother, had told him, "biographies make miserable reading toward the end – money problems, death of old friends and family, failing health…" Like Warnie, I’m not too thrilled with stories about the autumn years of life. I had trouble starting this blog because I don’t feel like writing about a man faced with only a tiny handful of years left to live. I never knew him while he was young, a person with a long road full of promises ahead. In my opinion, Harvey probably would rather not see me make his biography so depressing. He wants to reflect the glory of God, rather than the ultimate effect of sin – deterioration and death of the body.

Still, he was a very special member of the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic. He mentored Bill Donahue and possibly a few other pastors. Of course, I had to finish my other blog entry first on the Celebrate Recovery ministry. I made it very long and involved with many hours of research and writing. At last, I couldn’t put it off any more and started writing my take on Harvey.

Personally, I feel that every person has a main focus defining his/hers life. Pastor Francis strives to bring greater diversity. John Broderick works on healing people struggling with steamy lust addiction. I tend to hang around computers.

As for Harvey, his legacy is his tremendous dedication in sharing the gospel of Christ, one person at a time. He knows his Bible like the back of his hand. Occasionally he would share his knowledge by giving Bible readings and impromptu testimonies from the pulpit during Sunday morning services. The last testimony I remember hearing from him was his life story during the men’s breakfast. Man, I wish I took careful notes that morning. I never dreamed that people would express such a great interest in Harvey afterwards.

Harvey later told me that he was inspired from a previous speaker. He loved the guy’s story so much that he made up his mind to do his own. Harvey hugged that speaker after the men’s group conclusion. During his testimony, the younger man mentioned something about God’s warm hug melting away the sorrows.

I remember Harvey best as a mentor. He comforted people in hospitals, even during the times he was hospitalized. He was one of the first church members who befriend me while I was still a newcomer. He’s a people person. Over the past couple of years, he experienced shortness of breath, which kept him away from his beloved church. In spite of his breathing problems, he still hung out with his friends in the lobby of his apartment building whenever he had the strength. He also appreciated seeing the pastors visiting him for private services.

He often talked about God caring for His children – a common expression among Christians ever since Jesus’ parable of the sparrows being able to sleep at nights without needing to worry about where their next meal would come from. Harvey was well cared for in the end, just as he anticipated. Yes, he once owned a business that’s worth a million dollars and lost the whole thing. But through it all, he told me that God always took care of him.

The loss of Harvey felt like the ruin of something irreplaceable, like seeing one more tree dying in a shrinking oasis. A few more deaths will then make the oasis just another patch of sand surrounded by the searing dunes wasteland. Emptiness! Burning thirst as far as the eye can see. Rippling horizons promising only more despair.

My favorite book of the Bible is the Proverbs, written by Solomon. His wisdom is amazing even to this day. "Better a meal of bread and water where there is love than a major Thanksgiving feast with hatred." (Proverbs 15:17). "The greedy multinational banker who increases his wealth by excessive interest rates and fees amasses it for another who is kind to the poor." (Proverbs 28:8). After Solomon died, his son, Rehoboam, succeeded to the throne. His proverb is, "My father burdened your backs with heavy iron yokes; I will give you ones made out of lead. My father scarred you with whips; I will flagellate you with scorpions dripping with venom." (2 Chronicles 10:14). Imagine the Israelites’ despair when their National Treasure of knowledge died, replaced by a loutish demagogue. Time and time again, the Bible has numerous examples of righteous leaders dying and replaced by thugs. Thankfully, it also has a number of instances of the people crying out for somebody great and God answering their need.

I know at least two people who accepted Christ after the death of a faithful friend of God. After someone dies, the mourning son may make up his mind to volunteer as a substitute. Pastor Francis did just that during his grandmother’s funeral. Francis’ grandfather and grandmother used to teach and evangelize in his Indian village. His grandmother prayed for his salvation, but never saw any fruits until after settling down in her new house in Heaven. Now Francis is teaching and evangelizing. Claudio’s father, Jiovanni, used to be a spiritual leader and role model in his home. After his death, Jiovanni had created a spiritual hole in the household. Claudio commented that it took years of God’s prodding before deciding to fill the void. Today, he’s a well-respected church treasurer – enough to be elected five times. He also has a gift of encouragement, often prodding others to praise God.

Maybe I’ll write someday a story proving that Harvey’s right about Jesus’ parable of the sparrows. Already, I see a few newcomers who may neatly fill in Harvey’s shoes.

December 26, 2009 – Thoughts on Their Marriage

He’s a people person. He spent his life socializing. He also faithfully stayed with his wife. After seeing so many marriages end in divorce, my opinion of them is pretty low. A pair of plastic toy rings from a coin vending machine is how much I value the ceremony.

After a decade of diligent work on sticking together, then I feel that the pair may be worthy to wear precious metal symbolizing their marriage. 99 percent pure silver would do nicely.

The fiftieth year is more precious, more rare than the one ounce, 89 percent pure, gold rings mixed with silver – coveted for their fantastic brilliance and luster. Use real gold for the golden anniversary. I know only a few who stayed as a single unit for over a half-century and they gain my utmost respect. If they have any marriage tips to share, I’ll listen. Harvey and Martha Smith celebrated their fiftieth anniversary a long time ago and had kept their wedding vows through the end.

Interestingly, they worship in different churches – Harvey attended the Evangelical Church of Atlantic while Martha attended the Methodist church. I don’t know what to think about them attending separate churches. Aren’t couples supposed to spend their time together? Being single all my life brings a need to approach, from time to time, couples for answers to marriage questions. Francis, being both husband and pastor, nicely fill that need.

After Saturday morning prayers concluded, I immediately walked over to Pastor Francis to ask my marriage questions. We had to make it quick as my train to Worcester was departing in not much more than one hour. I had another Christmas dinner I wish to attend.

Francis did agree that couples living together should gradually see themselves merging together as one – sharing their interests and personality. It shouldn’t be the norm for couples to pursue activities separately. One of the problems of the individualistic culture is how it discourages togetherness of couples.

Watching the scenery zip past my train for over an hour gave me plenty of time to think about the issue. A thought popped up. It’s possible that Harvey and Martha found themselves in a no-win situation. Harvey may have attended the Evangelical Church of Atlantic because he felt the need to continue mentoring Pastor Bill. Harvey became an integral part of the church. Meanwhile Martha may be thriving very well in the Methodist church and transferring would be a wrenching transition to her. I know that feeling well. Over my lifetime, I’ve visited many fine churches. Some, I’m somebody special. Some, I’m nobody. Still, I’m happy to see that one did not try to dominate the other in such a vital choice of Sunday fellowship. They hammered out a compromise.

I could’ve find an accurate answer quickly enough by asking Martha, but I just don’t have the heart to play investigative journalist to a grieving widow. This is a minor issue in their fantastic marriage. Many people, including Francis and myself, admire them. The only reason I spent so much time on that issue is that I know a few couples who also attend separate churches. One is married as long as Harvey and Martha. I’m always open for any thoughts and will make updates on this.

September 22, 2009 - Funeral

The service successfully ran to its completion. I couldn’t attend. Thanks friends for your helpful information. Below is the program.

Prelude: Organ Music:	Rev. Karen. C. Rydwansky
Welcome & Greetings:	Rev Francis Balla
Opening Prayer:
Great is thy faithfulness:	Hymn
Scripture Reading: Isaiah 40:28-31:	Don Johnson
Just a closer walk with thee:	Hymn
Scripture Reading: Psalm 119:101-105:	James Facada
Scripture Reading: John 3:16	Anna Donahue
Battle Hymn of the Republic:	Hymn
Reflections:
	Family members
	Rev. Bill Donahue
	Rev. Paul O’Neil
	Rev. Stephen Donahue
Message:	Rev Francis Balla
I believe / you will never walk alone:	Rev. Karen. C. Rydwansky
It is well with my soul:	Stephen Smith
Prayer and Benediction:	Rev. Francis Balla
Postlude:	Organ music

I like to give Harvey the last word for this blog entry. Below is a short poem he had written. It was typed on a bookmark and distributed during his funeral.

"When I come home to Heaven
How joyful it will be
For on that day at last
My Risen Lord I’ll see

No greater happiness
Than to see his
Smiling face
To see the love in
His eyes
And feel his warm embrace.

I’ve done nothing to deserve That perfect home
Above
It was given freely
By the grace of
Jesus’ love

So why should earthly
Cares
Weigh down upon me so
They’ll be a distant
Memory
When home at last I go."

Celebrate Recovery One Year Anniversary

2010-02-08T05:25:00.000-08:00

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Inside the church, the men and women kept busy all day making the preparations for the one-year anniversary celebration. They hustled to finish before the deadline. The women took over the kitchen to cook the meal. Once the leader started an assembly line system the preparation went smoothly. Others had set up the tables in the fellowship hall. Deep-blue tablecloth draped over every table. Folded cards, printed with Celebrate Recovery’s principles, decorated the top. Clear class vases, filled with cut flowers, stood in the center of every table. The room looked magnificent.

Things had gotten "interesting" in the sanctuary once the multimedia leader showed up two hours before visitors were due to arrive. Earlier he made changes to the presentation of the Twelve Steps and their Biblical comparisons. He added a new picture that’s cleaner in quality. He also spent all day building a 13 slide Power Point presentation with music and words. John viewed the updates and approved them both. Jacco then arrived and struck up a conversation with John. Satisfied in seeing his slides approved, the multimedia leader configured the custom-made Celebrate Recovery worship software, written in C#, and ran a test. Running anything untried during a live event is an excellent recipe for getting laughed at. Of course, it crashed and burned during the first test run. "DAAT!" The computer sounded a discordant musical note. Meanwhile, Jacco and John settled down inside the sacred sanctuary of the chapel and turned to deeper, more intimate subjects. Glowing stain glass windows, richly grained wood, and the deeply respectful atmosphere can draw some people into chapels of all variety to experience meditative fellowship. Rather reluctant in intruding, the media leader made the fix and wander around the church to wait for the two to conclude their conversation. They should finish soon. Then again, maybe they’ll finish when the first arrivals come.

Wishing for more time, he returned to the computer and pressed the "Play" button to run a second test run, and hoped the videos wouldn’t be too distracting. John could always stop the video easily enough if he wish. It could be stopped all too easily. Once, during one of the Celebrate Recovery worship meetings, somebody reached over to grab something and accidentally clicked the mouse button with his elbow. That caused Power Point to pause the music during the middle of the play. Then there’s the time the introduction song titled, "The Road to Recovery," mysteriously stopped before the singers finished the last words of the chorus. Nobody had yet figured out exactly what went wrong. Test! Test! Diligent professionals must learn to love that word if they want to be successful. 70 pairs of eyes, expected for that evening, will spot any malfunctions. John and Jacco continued their intimate discussion while the noisy video series tried their best in grabbing their attention. The entire operation ran without a hitch. With the computer ready, the multimedia leader walked off, relieved at not needing the half-hour round trip to his home for bug fixes. John and Jacco soon hunched over for prayer in the back pew in peace. After a while, John cheered with him after finishing.

The big event started the moment the first visitor arrived. As the busy minutes passed, we eventually discovered that the attendee count turned out less than John planned. Out of 70 expected, only 42 arrived. The 42 represented a broad spectrum of personality types. Most of the church council arrived. Several of them also took leadership position long ago in Celebrate Recovery. Many people were just visiting. Some arrived in fine cars. Some rely on battered sneakers and subway passes for their transportation. Many Celebrate Recovery regulars showed up. Many church members came as well. Even Claudio and Margarita showed up, which surprised me. After a hard day at work, Claudio wished to spend the evening resting, which is understandable. Margarita wanted to come and convinced Claudio to go with her.

The large group worship service started after a half-hour of informal fellowship. During the service, John announced the good news of Jacco recently accepting Christ as his savior and friend. Amidst the congratulatory expressions rippling along the congregation, they may contemplate the riotous festivities shaking the Heaven as angles cheered. Another person acknowledged his desire for citizenship in the rejuvenating realm spanning the eternities. The whole thing started when John and Jacco were talking in the sanctuary while the media leader tested his videos and Power Point presentations. Their conversation eventually turned into weighty issue of eternal life. After making his decision, Jacco prayed with John as his witness. John continued his service after announcements. It ran smoothly to its completion using a schedule roughly resembling a typical Celebrate recovery large group meeting. The major difference was John abbreviating the time by eliminating the offering and a few songs.

With the gift of extra time for dinner and testimonies in the fellowship hall, people spent it relishing longer the chicken cordon bleu along with heaping of vegetables. Rich Burnham, the Massachusetts representative of Celebrate Recovery commented on how delicious the meal was. It was the best Celebrate Recovery event dinner he attended. It tasted like something from a gourmet restaurant, except it was home cooked. That evening was the type of evening where I can appreciate the wide range of talents the church has. Each person did a fantastic job in his/her niche. People didn’t start leaving until roughly 9:00PM. Can’t wait until the second year anniversary.

Celebrate Recovery Ministry

2010-01-25T04:47:00.000-08:00

Warning, some materials may not be appropriate for children. Not to worry, all materials are quite appropriate for Christians.

I’m sure many have heard before of a story about a man who after experiencing a tragedy, swore to dedicate his life to help others facing the same hardship. One such man is Charles Schwab, the founder of Charles Schwab & Co., Inc., and a pioneer in the discount brokerage business. While his high school peers breezed through English classes in high school, Charles found books to be excruciating exercises ending with futility. Moby Dick was as intimidating as reading the entire encyclopedia - written in Greek. For the entire time in high school, he never found a book he could read from page one to page last. His collection of Classic Comics substituted his English literature. Studying the colorful illustrations for the authors’ cryptic messages of life enabled him to squeak by enough to graduate. College came along with more struggles, tears, and jealously looking at his classmates calmly reading through impossible-sized books. He nearly flunked college before reaching his second year.

At last, settled down with a wife and son, Charles watched their baby grow into a child experiencing the same type of struggles in grade school. The school’s psychologist had diagnosed both Charles and his son as having dyslexia, a form of learning disability. Not wishing to see his son suffering through schools, he and his wife mined everywhere for precious tidbits about dyslexia. Gradually, painfully, they learned enough to help their son understand what went wrong and work out a system allowing him to study. That’s an impressive feat considering that Charles also juggles life savings of millionaires and middle class people. By common consent, both Charles and his wife realized that many kids struggled in school because of mental problems. With the right kind of information, the parents and teachers can find the correct remedy and make everything all right. In 1989, they founded Schwab Learning, www.schwablearning.org, to give information, community support, and guidance.

John Broderick was another such man who experienced tragedy and decided to do something about it to reduce the suffering. Born in Naples, Italy as the son of an American Navy sailor and Italian mother, he then grew up in South Boston. He has duel citizenship. Still, troubles relentlessly followed his family. His father drank too much. His parents fought too much. Finally, his parents contemplated the lifeless wasteland mottled with toxic sludge that their marriage became. In the end, not even the powers from their sacred wedding vows sealed long ago could revive the rose beds. The withered flowers, with crinkled leafs and petals eaten by insect infestations lie dead on the sickly blue soil. Dandelions couldn’t sprout from the battle-scarred earth. His parents divorced. His sister later died from heroin overdose. He was helpless to do anything more than say a nice little eulogy at her funeral.

Eventually, John married, started a family, and attempted to buy a house near Wollaston Beach, Quincy. To his sorrow, someone else managed to beat him to the sale. He didn’t have long to feel disappointed before he found another house twice the size but only a thousand dollars more. By an interesting coincidence, his house happened to be within a block of the Evangelical Church of Atlantic. He wouldn’t be walking outside too many days before seeing how the Christians live their lives.

One day, he wandered aimlessly outside, oppressed with his downward spiral. He was losing intercourse with his conscience and suffered the consequence. While thus tormented he heard music floating from the Vacation Bible School hosted by the Memorial Congregational Church. Being a staunch Catholic, he felt leery about coming in. John had images of sweaty, brainwashed Protestants mindlessly chanting, "Praise the Lord."

Several days passed while tossing and turning the thoughts of the music inside the strange little church. Trembling, he walked through the doors hunting for the pastor. Inside the church office, John and Pastor Bill had a long talk about salvation. John accepted Christ and walked out feeling greatly relieved, feeling the oppressive weight lifted from his stooped shoulders.

As for his worries about the Christians being a rabble of brainwashed idiots, he soon found out the truth after befriending the members. During the years of his stay, he conversed with many intelligent people: a high-end programmer, another high-end programmer, a writer, several successful entrepreneurs, fantastic cooks and more.

After accepting Christ, he didn’t start anything right away. Just as a young man needed many years in medical school before becoming a doctor, John felt that he needed time to grow, learn, and prepare. Not too long after he settled down as another church member, he read about a teacher that hung himself under a bridge after being accused of sexual abuse. The depressing news whacked his heart painfully hard. He began to pray long and hard on what ministry he can form to help. He needed a name. One night, between nine and ten, he sat by the table. With the family in bed, soothing quiet settled within the house. He again asked God what the name of his new ministry should be. The reply was, "SAVE Ministry". On asking what does it stand for, God answered, "Sexual Addiction Violates Everyone."

By the fall of 2007, he worked out the logo, organized S.A.V.E. Ministries, and set up Celebrate Recovery as its first recovery program. By the fall of 2008, he was granted permission by the church board to use the church building. The approval process had a few rough spots. The sticking point was that Celebrate Recovery would include people struggling with all form of addictions –pornography, or worst. John responded that out of every registered sex offender, several people nobody knew might struggle with identical problems. Celebrate Recovery can seek out and heal them before they can do any damage. It took John two monthly council meetings to work out an agreement and receive the approval. The Celebrate Recovery will have the church all to itself during their Thursday evening meetings. The children group can continue to meet on Friday evenings. Level three sex offenders are legally not allowed to hang out with children. They will be safely separated.

With all the paperwork behind, they had a kickoff meeting on November 20, 2008 – one week before Thanksgiving. John Broderick, Claire Broderick, Bill Glover, and Glenn Driscol took the Celebrate Recovery Leadership Ministry Training and formed the ministry’s core. John, as the founder, leads the men’s small group, with Bill Glover acting as co-leader. Claire leads the women’s group. Later, Elizabeth Barbosa joined as the women’s co-leader. Glenn handles the sound equipment. Gradually, over the passing months, John stabilized his weekly program. One leader left and two new leaders came aboard. The large worship service improved as they gain experience. After a few months of hunting, the leaders found their niche and fully appreciate the importance of delegating tasks to other leaders.

Some days, the numbers of attendees may grow to about two dozen. Some days, half that number, or less, would arrive. Some admitted their discouragement during the Thursdays when only the leaders plus two others show up. With the true spirit of an entrepreneur, John swore that he’s going to lead his ministry to success no matter how long it takes, no matter how many people say he’s going to fail. On the other hand, starting off small can be an advantage in some ways as the intimate atmosphere encourages the practice of different techniques.

The large group starts with worship, which includes praise music. Celebrate Recovery groups across America has a large variety of music styles. Some like hymns, comfortable old friends from the past. Some like loud music with a lot of noise and electric guitars catching fire. One Christian Punk band, One Bad Pig, actually had a Lead Screamer, vocals – Carey "Kosher" Womack. Between those two extremes is a wide variety of quality Christian music. To show respect to the sacred church sanctuary they meet in, John tries to pick the songs that aren’t edgy. He doesn’t want the cotton candy style music either – sugary fluff with nothing of substance. He wants the encouraging, worshipful style of music that lifts people up to God. One major concern John has is his audience listlessly staring at the screen while the music plays. He tries hard to get them to sing, clap, and show some life. As a former DJ, John appreciates the power of music.

After worship, two people will step up to the podium and read, depending on the week, Eight Principles and their corresponding Beatitudes or the Twelve Steps and their Biblical comparisons. All except the Seventh Principle of the Beatitude are supported by Bible verses. After announcements, the offertory music plays. The collection pays for the food and advertising. Not one leader in the ministry receives a cent for their work. They’re all volunteers. The leaders paid for the food along with everyone else. Most Celebrate Recovery leaders across the world are unpaid.

Next comes the teaching or testimony time. The multimedia leader may play a video produced by Celebrate Recovery. The video is always someone making a public confession about his/her painful recovery process. A member may read a chapter from the teaching book. Once in a while, Pastor Francis may give a sermon or a leader may come over to tell his story to the audience.

Once the teaching/testimony time is finished, one of the attendees leads the audience with the serenity prayer and John will close with the final worship song.

Next, people are directed into two small groups segregated by gender. Liberals may reflexively scream "sexism" at that, but it has nothing to do with discrimination. Since the church’s founding, many women in the church occupied seats in well-respected positions. The segregation simply free up the men to work out men issues and the women to discuss women issues in the style they feel most comfortable. It also prevents romance from complicating the healing process. A man would be reluctant to show his weakness while a pretty girl he’s dating sat nearby. That will certainly cause a breakup real fast. A woman with a miniskirt may purr with pride with her accomplishment - distracting every man in the group. Of course, the strutting woman would never expose her ugliness inside while all the men watched her. That’s like Kryptonite to her superpowers. So Celebrate Recovery always has separate men and women groups. Because of the segregation, my article deals mostly on the men’s side of Celebrate Recovery.

Once the Celebrate Recovery grows big enough John plans to split the two groups into more specific areas so they’ll always stay small and intimate.

The format of the women and men’s group is identical. The audience is required to listen to each person without interruption. They are asked to support one another – not fix one another. The reason John requested that nothing be done to fix people is because the leaders haven’t yet completed all the necessary training. Once a year pass after the founding of the Celebrate Recovery Quincy branch, John will start the step study group where they will do actual work to fix things. The small group leaders encourage people to open up in telling their hurts, hang-ups and habits.

The small groups remind me of a comic book maxim I read about long ago – it’s nice to hear about other people’s problems because the horrors they experience make yours seem small. That was put to the test a few years back when I was aboard a jet returning from Tampa, Florida to Boston. We relaxed behind our TV and books while the airbus comfortably cruised in the smooth nighttime stratosphere. CRASH! The jet loudly jolted with a violence that took my breath away. A woman in front of me cried out, "Oh my God!" The turbulence was even better than the scene from Ross Hunter’s disaster movie Airport when the venerable 707 was tearing itself apart after a bomb blasted a hole. Our hard collision with the Boston-class pothole in the sky gave the passengers a taste of the horrendous force continuously roaring, thrashing against our cabin.

I could had unbuckle my seatbelt, walked to the lady and try comforting her by saying that the bump was nothing compare to the worst that had happen. I’m bad. I can describe, in graphic details, the gruesome ways people died in airplane accidents. Small bags of ketchup would make splendid special effect props. I also know numerous forms of agony passengers experienced when things go wrong. One fellow passenger I knew had to visit the doctor after landing. I could have, but I stayed in my seat and said nothing for fear that the lady would punch my face in and the passengers would cheer her for shutting me up. I did throw out that comic book long ago. What a dumb proverb!

Celebrate Recovery isn’t established to compare each other’s pain in a sick contest. Rather, an important step is to expose the problem, allowing it to be fixed.

Let’s look at the interesting statistical detail of the women living longer than men. Why is that? One important possibility is from the American Academy of Family Physicians. They did a survey of 2,282 men and women. The survey, released by 2007, showed that men are less willing to admit to health troubles. 29 percent of men admitted that they wait as long as possible in pain before scheduling an appointment with his doctor. Many believe that men avoiding doctors may be the primary reason why men die younger than women. Common sense dictates that if cancer or heart trouble is caught early, then the treatment will be more effective. Rick Warren states that depression, addiction, and hurts are like cancer – they won’t go away by themselves. Treating them early makes the recovery easier.

The trick is convincing the macho men to attend the recovery support groups. Airplane horror stories aren’t as scary as tales of mental anguish. The end result of a catastrophic structural failure is simple incineration and that’s that. Problems of the mind are worst. When David was hiding from King Saul among the Philistines, the servants of Achish king of Gath recognized him. Fearing that his cover was exposed, David pretended to lose his mind, clawing marks at the gates and drooling. Amazingly, King Achish and his band of hardened killers felt reluctant to imprison or slay David the madman – especially when Gath was the hometown of Goliath. Thoughts of horrors decaying the brain brought the household of Achish into disarray, allowing David to escape. See 1 Samuel 21:10-15 for the full story.

If a ruthless Philistine king wouldn’t want to touch a drooling man, then I perfectly understand why a typical man loathed surrounding himself with others talking about their dysfunctional life. His reasons to stay away are many and reasonable.

Some people may feel uncomfortable because they saw the older generation surviving the Great Depression and World War II without bothering with running to support groups to cry. If they didn’t need it, then that makes the younger generation feel weak for needing New Age psychology mumble jumbo. This issue is beyond the topic of my blog and I appreciate any feedback on this. I have a few theories. The World War Generation does keep their emotion to themselves, in my experience, but may have support in other ways. I heard comments that the victory celebrations at the end might have given them a closure that helped them get their life back together. Winning a World War and beating the Great Depression must’ve been a huge mental boost. The stability after the war may have helped. Back then people don’t change neighborhoods and jobs as much as we do today. Maybe many self-medicated themselves through countless crates of cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some really do have secret emotional support systems. I just don’t buy the story that the World War II generation could’ve toughened it out and live.

Ross Hunter’s Airport made light of manager Mel Bakersfeld’s marriage while having a relationship with another lover. Many Celebrate Recovery attendees would scoff at the movie’s plot knowing the severe consequences of unfaithfulness, broken lives, addiction, and other hurts paining their lives.

The pain weighing down people is common as well as serious. John believes that no matter how well brought up, people have skeletons in the closet – the living dead that constantly moan and rattle their bones draped with putrefied flesh; waiting for the time to escape; always hungering to feed. Rick Warren too believes that everyone has struggles that cause a rift in their relationship with God.

One graphic example of just how widespread addictions can be is when professor Simon Louis Lajeunesse, at the University of Montreal, tried to do a research on the effects of pornography on men’s sexuality and their views on both genders. He wanted to compare dirty men in the twenties who regularly watch porn to the righteous men who stayed away from sin. He did hit one stumbling block – he couldn’t find a single man proclaiming his faultless abstinence from X-rated stuff.

The serious nature of any recovery groups shines a harsh spotlight on the leaders. They have vital roles in support groups. They try to encourage people to open up – even after someone admitted his struggles on gossiping. They have to tell, face to face, a man that he’s breaking one of the rules of conduct and must stop – even if he looks like the type who buries enemies’ bodies in his back yard. They must guide the hurting members on the path towards healing.

To mollify people’s anxiety over leaders without a degree on clergy or counseling Celebrate Recovery headquarters made a specific and detailed list of guidelines that the leaders are expected to follow. Two very successful pastors, Rick Warren and John Baker, worked together over the years to hash out the best recipe before starting the program. The guidelines should keep the ministry running successfully. Another expectation for them is to attend leadership training. John regularly requested the leaders to come with him to workshops, even if they work on the computer or sound systems only and don’t interact much with the people. To make sure the leaders are not going off to the deep end, the church and pastor always support the Celebrate Recovery ministries. Finally, if someone is about to get hurt, a leader will contact the proper authority in some way – by 911 if necessary.

The rules clearly state that nobody should give himself a label. Celebrate Recovery is always for supporting each other, not condemnation. A recent study, done by social psychologist Becca R. Levy, graphically illustrates just how painful labels can be. Becca and her colleagues browsed through surveys taken by 386 men and women in 1968 when they were the under the age of 50. They then looked at health records of the respondents close to four decades after the survey. 25 percent of those who felt that old age is a dreadful experience of feeble muscles and mental confusion had cardiovascular events. 13 percent of those who felt old age are a positive era in life had cardiovascular events. In summary, people who have a bad stereotype of old age die younger. Becca Levy also discovered, in a separate study, that even exposure to negative stereotypes is detrimental to the health of older participants. You may find the full result published in the March 2009 issue of the journal Psychological Science.

As the result, John discourages people from saying "I’m a drunk" or "I’m a pervert." Instead, John expects them to say that they struggle with a problem. Celebrate Recovery also differs from other secular recovery programs by having an expectation that Jesus will help the sad people from their tar pit.

One vital part of Celebrate Recovery is peer support. John regularly encourages the people to find his/her accountability partner. How it works is that two people, of the same gender, share each other’s phone numbers and make promises to call if facing a struggle. A call may be from feeling lonely and depressed. Or it may be from a temptation to log into porn.com. With mutual support, they can work out the healing process far more quickly and reliably than doing it alone. John Broderick has seen with his own eyes the power of peer support. After his father divorced, he eventually remarried. His second wife, Elaine, will not tolerate a husband acting like a fool under the alcohol-fueled mental haze. She couldn’t get him to completely abstain, but she kept him sober enough to be a successful resident of Florida. Thanks to Elaine’s effort, he kept his drinking under control during their 36 years of marriage.

Just how long are people expected to stay in Celebrate Recovery? One type of show I can’t stand is the ones where Bad Guy kills a million people before getting caught and thrown in jail. On the sequel, he escapes and kills another million. Repeat countless times. After a while, I expect the superhero would get discourage while gazing at the wreckage that once was a shining city, thinking he’s stuck in the rut. Nothing gets done. Must recovery be like that cheap show - where the struggling soul continually battles against addiction?

Fortunately, Rick Warren and John Baker co-founded Celebrate Recovery ministry as forward looking. The downhearted can be more than just another cured of their hurts, hang-ups, and addictions. They can thrive in their new life. The attendees are taught leadership skills to become productive members of society. They can stay permanently in Celebrate Recovery as leaders, or move on. How long do people stay in Celebrate Recovery? It depends.

Can they be cured? I do know people who after escaping the gutter rose to highly respected positions. They may not need the support group, but they still rely on a network of friends to keep them clean. For instance, in my humble opinion, I feel that you can sometime distinguish the people who stomped their alcohol addiction to death by seeing the fantastic collection of beverages they serve to their guests. They know they can’t touch any wine, so they replace them with delicious juice, cider, and other liquids beyond my imagination. Unfortunately, the Quincy branch has been running for about a year so the process is incomplete. I’ll have to make an update of the final results several years from now.

The small groups have a wide variety of people dealing with numerous issues. Some members, forming the core, have attended since the beginning. They all form the leadership. A few arrived later and been steady ever since. A few eventually joined the leadership team as well. Many come for a few months and dropped out for various reasons. A person may suffer from an occasional emotional crisis and needed to attend a meeting or two solely to talk and get things off his chest.

Once the small group ended at 8:30, the people will briefly socialize before heading home to bed. So far, so good – the ministry is running smoothly.

Informal Men’s Retreat

2009-09-20T06:34:00.000-07:00

Friday July 24, 2009

The trip didn’t start off very promising that Friday morning. The rain came down in buckets - huge 30-gallon size buckets that could drench an unsuspected person the instant he step outside. It was the type of weather that wrecks havoc on the natural scenery. Thankfully, that tree did missed Leo’s van while flattening a section of his fence. Somebody used a broom to push a low hanging communication cable out of the way to allow Leo to drive through. In spite of all that, he came early to pick us all up. The group was small – Leo, his two sons, the younger Pat, and I.

Once on our way, the trip to New Hampshire went smoothly, stopping for a lunch break, and driving through Leo’s old stomping grounds.

The dreary sky began to darken for the evening as we pulled into the well-hidden grassy driveway. The one story, two-bedroom cabin stood on four stilts – the only level area in the steeply slanted lot. It has a roof pitching to the rear and a screened in porch with a splendid view of trees on all four sides. It is also painted sky blue. Nobody could miss it. Mosquitoes arrogantly swarmed the yard, biting everybody in sight. We wasted no time bringing the groceries up the six-foot stairs to the front door and hustling indoors.

The unfinished cabin may be rustic to someone used to the city, but it has spots of luxuries - a small TV connected to the combination DVD and VHS player. The living room also has a stereo system with a CD player, and a scattering of comfortable sofas and chairs to sink into. The bed, where I rolled out my heavy blanket and sleeping bag, is of far better quality then my own. Attached to the fridge by magnets is a newspaper clipping about a guy suffering from massive pest infestations after moving to the back woods. It appeared to be a popular story deep within the rustic countryside.

After a meal – no, we never had TV dinners – we played several Three Stooges episodes, a movie and went to bed. After pulling shut the curtain hung in the bedroom’s doorframe and flopping on the bed, I relished the quiet from the late night. Sumptuous peace, emanating from the wooded lot, lulled me to sleep. On both nights, not one person snored, making the silence complete.

Saturday July 25, 2009

Motorcycles rumbled up and down the streets in Alton Bay while we drove to our final destination. Men with longer hair than their girl are not that uncommon. They kept to themselves. The community even has a Christian motorcycle gang.

The whole weekend was to be dedicated for a day of kayaking, and the weather promised to be just perfect for gliding along the waters. Light breeze barely rippled the water. The partly cloudy sky kept us from getting too hot, but I still squirted on a good amount of sun block for extra protection. Leo made sure we brought plenty of water bottles to protect us from dehydration. Two apiece should be plenty. Leo enjoys kayaking and tries to go out as much as possible. I love it myself, especially since it’s the only thing with a hull that I could master. If you don’t capsize, then you’re good enough.

Leo and his kids could spend all day telling stories about capsizing.

"He leaned over the edge too far while trying to measure the depth of the river with the paddle. Splash!"

"As I rocked the craft for the last time, it seemed to pause on its edge for a long while before it finally flipped over."

"From stirring up the muck on the bottom, he smelled horrible. He had to take a shower right away."

"I heard a splash behind me and I saw the overturned kayak and him standing in the water – drenched. Because the water was frigid, we had to rush him inside to warm up."

My turn came. With Leo’s considerable help, I stepped into the kayak from the dock and shoved off to wait for the rest. Using the extra time, I practiced paddling without dripping water onto my lap. Damselflies crowded our hulls, possibly to drink the morning dew or perhaps to enjoy the trip. You can easily tell the difference by looking at them while they rest. Dragonflies keep their large wings outstretched while damselflies fold theirs to the back. Splashing water at them did not discourage them. Letting them stay would probably be the best thing to do. In spite of their extra mass weighing down the kayak, they don’t cause any drag nor increase the risk of capsize. They never attack anyone, and never will. They may actually have a benefit. Any thirsty mosquito dumb enough to blunder near a person, watched by ten thousand predatory damselflies, would become an instant snack. The sound of mosquito wings set them drooling.

Once on our way, we first took the heavily wooded section of the river. Often, water lily leaves hissed while we floated over them. We tried hard to find the clear spots to reduce the drag. The people experienced in the woods did not pick the floating flowers. The ones who weren’t soon found out the hard way that the flowers tend to attract annoying insects. On some spots, the damselflies flew away and left us alone. On others, hoards of stick-shaped hitchhikers landed aboard for free rides. One patch of water, untouched by boaters and wind, shone with a mirror-like smoothness.

Please note that I had to digitally manipulate the bottom-right corner of the second image to remove the bright-yellow date and time stamp. It displayed the incorrect date. All the others were cropped.

All too soon, we hit the dead end of the scenic route – a very low bridge. The clearance between the concrete ceiling and the water was less than the height my kayak was riding on top. Going through the claustrophobic slot was out of the question. Still, some wistfully gaze through the opening. We turned around and returned to the dock.

After lunch, we again launched from the dock to tackle the other end of the river, which was separated by a bridge. It wasn’t much higher above the water than the first one. I could easily reach up and touch the concrete ceiling while paddling under it. At the other side, vastly different scenery greeted us. It was a marsh choked with floating leaves - more scraping-hiss while I floated over them. Unlike the morning run, we paddled with more of a purpose. We drove ourselves harder to reach a far more distant destination.

Pat and I played bumper cars along the way. To a person not used to boating, the kayak feels clumsy. True, I can turn on a dime. I just have trouble with speedy precision maneuvering. I can imagine that with experience, a person can become very good. Leo feels the kayak is the best thing on the water. Its freedom of movement is unparalleled. I had seen it easily float in water shallow enough to fit inside a bathtub. It’s also quiet - allowing us to sneak up fairly close to the black turtles sunning themselves on almost every branch sticking out the water.

For hours, we paddled upstream along breathtaking marsh and woods. Mostly, we paddled alone. Even the damselflies kept away. The sun grew bright. Because of the nature of the life vests, they acted identically to well-insulated coats, making us hotter. The water in our bottles steadily shrank. An occasional canoe or couples fishing from boats greeted us. Leo wanted to reach the destination for the sake of accomplishment, something to talk about. None of us wanted to admit defeat and spoil the party. We pressed on. I began worrying about the plastic handle attached to the rope. It hung into the water, noisily splashing behind my boat and causing drag for every mile I push.

"It’s beyond the row of trees; just around the bend," Leo would encourage us. Paddling through the final leg to the sandy ramp was difficult. Close to the ramp was another low bridge, but nobody wistfully looked at it that time. My arms felt like noodles and I couldn’t steer very well. "Made it!" Out of five, the four of us had successfully reached the end of the line – a wonderful feat to tell others.

A brief, but necessary break recharged us enough to slosh through the water back to the dock. Helped by the current, we found the return trip easier. Somehow, everybody managed to safely stay aboard their boats all that day, giving us no new slapstick tales.

Sunday July 26, 2009

Leo, Pat and I tried out the Community Church of Alton near our cabin. It was founded as a Congregational meeting house in 1827, then converted to Baptist in 1831. Leo forgot his reading glasses so he hoped they would play "Amazing Grace". It was one of the only hymns he memorized. Wouldn’t you know it, they played that very song. The service was similar to other Congregational churches I’d visited over the years. We talked to the friendly congregation after the service, then returned to the cabin for the final time.

To express appreciation to the owners for letting us use the cabin, Leo insisted that we leave the cabin in neater shape than when we arrived. We packed our bags, washed and stored every dish, and vacuum cleaned the floors.

I was sad to leave the place. I’m not advocating people to embrace the primitive life. I like being able to flush the toilet and turn on the faucet without fussing about where the water comes from and where it will go. I can let the teams of paid expert stay up at nights worrying about that. Ultra-advance technology has done many wonderful things, and I continually strive to make more of them. I just felt unhappy knowing that my long weekend of rest and recreation was over.

Backwoods Weekend (June 26-28)

2009-07-19T06:33:00.000-07:00

Friday

The church cheerfully anticipated the combination whitewater rafting and camping trip for months. Hanging on the church’s hall for almost a year is a poster-sized photo of the church raising their arms in triumph while rafting on the turbulent river. Church members often looked at it while thinking about the next time. Leo, the main organizer, liked how the 2008 event went and decided to have it again this year. In no time, the numbers attending promised to be larger than last year.

I was reluctant at first to go. I like my air conditioner, TV, stereo, and two personal computers. I can’t live without my C# compiler, science fiction library, cell phone, and the other little things which elevate man above the level of beast. Giving all that up for subsistence lifestyle in the forest will feel like a crushing loss to me – no different than hearing the dreaded voice mail on the phone saying, "Employee number 123501222, your job as a senior systems programmer has been outsourced to India. You’re demoted to cleaning toilets. That’s all you’re good for."

Eventually, Leo convinced me that the camping trip would not be a "Survivors - Ethiopian Edition." He doesn’t want to see a lonely camper. The retreat should be an opportunity for people to share – talents or goods. Rosa once brought in meatballs in a crock-pot. Arlene was a big hit during the mornings with her freshly brewed coffee to wake them up. A child shivering in the nighttime chill can find someone with an extra jacket. A tightly knit group of campers will make the trip comfortable.

Leo wants the long weekend to be a journey of exploration. Living together for the next three days will give us time to learn new things about our peers and share more about ourselves. Maybe I’ll even find a new friend or two out of it.

Leo’s skills in organizing the whitewaters rafting and camping felt comforting while he lecture us tenderfoot gathered in the church’s fellowship room. After camping since 18 or 19, Leo knows plenty enough to explain what are necessary, what are nice to have, and what should be left home. Each car in the caravan has a map with cell numbers of every driver written in the margins. If any car breaks down or took a wrong turn, a quick call can set things right. Surprisingly, I already have most of what’s important. Of course, I will need a tent. I can afford one easily enough. Finding space in my apartment to fit it won’t be so easy though. For the trip, I’ll just borrow one.

Friday morning came quickly with a huge canvas duffel bag, my trusty backpack, a lawn chair, and a small plastic bag waiting near the front door. They formed a rather excessive pile for a brief two-night trip, yet they still don’t contain nearly all of what’s necessary. Normally, when staying with my relatives for two nights, I can get by with a small Eastpak backpack. The large pile, patiently waiting to be tossed into Leo’s van, is a stark reminder of how much, as a guest, I rely on my hosts’ accommodation. A camping trip forces me to bring nearly everything.

From my apartment, we made a stop at the church to organize the caravan. Sunshine cheerfully brightened the parking lot and made the cars too hot to stay inside. The group hung outside, tossing foam footballs or engaging in conversation. From there, we got on the northbound highway and immediately gotten stuck on a traffic jam. Amazingly, it happened during Friday morning - well after rush hour. In time, we passed the crowded roads. In time, we left behind the concrete sidewalks and apartment buildings. We watched passing lakes, farms and more trees while approaching our destination. In spite of one car leaving the church’s lot early, and the other taking another route, they both arrived at the same time in Walmart’s parking lot in Ashby. One car pulled in directly behind us. Another was in front of us. Leo called that an example of God’s perfect timing. Ashby is over an hour’s drive from Quincy - 50 miles west of Boston and 35 miles north of Worcester.

I already had what I needed, so I didn’t buy anything. The others stocked up on marshmallows, graham crackers, more marshmallows, soda, chocolate, and marshmallows. Close by is a Chinese restaurant where we pigged out on the all you can eat buffet. Afterwards, we waddled outside to our cars and drove to the waterfalls ten minutes from the camp. The stream, ten feel wide in most places, thundered against jumbled boulders as it splits into two sheets and drop to the lower level. Kids and adults alike enjoyed climbing up the hill. A weeks worth of rain supplied the stream plenty enough to give us an interesting waterfall.

The half-hour tour gave us more than enough to see what’s important and take decent pictures. We piled into the cars and departed, following the stream all the way. Clouds, growing ever darker for the past two hours, finally released their rain before we reached camp.

The Pines Campground, opened four seasons, will be our home for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. In comparison to other visitors, our visit would be brief. Some stayed for a week. Some stayed for a month.

The camp’s residents seemed to compliment the grounds’ atmosphere nicely – with beards, easy conversations, and a shared love for humor. One guy wore a "They can swim but they can’t hide" fishing cap. Along the sandy and hard-packed road, someone had posted a hand-painted sign. "Most people drive 5 miles over the speed limit. Speed limit 0." I was surprised to see that one resident originally came from Jamaica Plains. That’s more inner city than where I was from. Maybe it shouldn’t be so unexpected. Some say that people living in the back woods have surprisingly diverse backgrounds.

Located in 39 Davis Road, Ashby, MA the rustic site offers abundant peace for the campers to relax. It also has a game room to take shelter while we waited for the rain to stop. Keeping us entertained are a pool table, pinball machines, one built sometime during the 1970s, and video games – shooting practice and hunting among the others. Mike and I played Ping-Pong, trying not to let the ball roll behind the video games. After a while, we both managed to find our rhythm. Back and forth the lightweight plastic ball bounced along the table, a dozen or more times before a miss brought it under the table. We had an enjoyable time.

The cloudy afternoon darkened towards evening before Leo decided to pitch the tents. Rain, falling on and off all afternoon, had turned the sandy grounds into a mushy wasteland filled with puddles and tire tracks. A long water-filled rut meander along the campground. We had to trust the waterproof tent floor to keep us dry in bed. Still, we try avoiding the deeper puddles. Hammering rang out as people drove stakes into the hard-packed ground. One person brought along a hammer. Another used his folding knife’s handle, shocking some people while they watched the expensive tool getting banged up. Shocking, true, but the manufacturer didn’t assemble the knives to be mollycoddled in the museums’ climate control shelves. People buy them for heavy use until they wear out and thrown away.

They had trouble setting up one tent. It has color-coded poles, but nobody could decipher them without the instruction. Meanwhile other teams kept busy raising more tents along the riverbanks. Any closer, some will see their tents floating down the brook. Six were up before the long-suffering team finally finished the big and too complicated one. Most were two person dome tents. A flysheet, stiffened by a flexible metal pole, partially covered the top half to keep the rain off the screened vents. The wonderful dome tents, self-supported by two flexible metal poles crisscrossing each other, were a breeze to set up, even by two tenderfoots. A few others used rigid poles and one large tent sported a vestibule. None of us knew exactly how many tents we assembled. In fact, one stood empty all Friday night.

Numerous pebbles, colored in every shade of sandy dirt, covered the ground everywhere. We tried to keep the tents away from the bigger rocks so our beds won’t be too lumpy. The men couldn’t find a spot to drive in the stakes without hitting a rock an inch underground. All too often, their frustrated hammering bent the obstructed metal poles.

After the tent raising comes the pleasing job of furnishing the inside. Following the example of the Japanese, a diligent camper always removes his shoes before entering the dry sanctuary of the tent. Carefully! A single misstep will turn my socks into soggy mess that will never be clean until after a few cycles through the washer. Once I rolled out the sleeping bag, heavy blanket, and set the pillow in place, I knew for certain that I made a comfortable place for a good night rest. Next time, I’m bringing a heavy plastic bag to store my sneakers before going to bed. The best way to keep them dry from overnight rain is bringing them inside.

With our work accomplished, we enjoyed the rest of the evening as free time. The campers prepared the fire for roasting hotdogs, marshmallows and hamburger. No, I don’t see any Braciuolini di vitello. The special waterproof match hissed while squirting a small flame. The fire stepped into the starter brick and spread to the paper. Flame burned brightly, until it consumed the curling paper, then it died down without catching the heavier logs. Leo tried his miniature butane blowtorch but all it did was charred the wood. Someone tossed paper napkins into the fire. Flaming embers floated high upwards, making the campers nervous. A guy commented on the irony if they started a forest conflagration – the only big fire they could succeed in getting going.

"If this is our fire, at this rate, it’ll be burning for a year."

Using a knife, someone scraped bits of magnesium, from a block, into the fire pit. Turning his block over to expose the flint side, he struck his knife against the flat surface. Bright sparks exploding from the pit made a great show, but the fire still died.

For the second attempt, they dumped a bag of charcoals and tried feeding the fire with paper and more matches.

"How much lighter fluid should we use?"

"Let’s use the whole container."

"Stand back!" another kidded.

The flames burst hot and full of promises. Pieces of the charcoal bag burned in a pretty shade of green. After the fire consumed the lighter fluid and paper, it shrank.

"Let’s use our maps for the fire," somebody joked.

"Maybe we can use the camp’s pamphlets."

Someone thought up a brilliant idea to make kindling. In no time, two men shaved enough wood to form decent piles. One guy held a survivalist knife and another held an old multi-tool, folding knife. We found the splinters to make great substitute for paper.

After someone dropped moist leaves on top of the tiny fire, it snuffed out.

"Let me do the fire," Leo commanded.

"Please Mr. Leo, we’re lost."

The third time was the charm. After a lot of care, along with more hand-carved shavings, Leo had a bright fire going. Blowing on the fire does wonders in turning a dim flame into a roaring fire. They tried using a battery-powered fan but it didn’t make much of a difference. Some people worried about melting the plastic if they placed it close enough to the fire to make any difference. Constantly holding it in place appeared to be more trouble than it is worth.

Soon, the fire settled and was ready to cook supper. We whittled cooking sticks with wickedly sharp fire-hardened points and polished handles. They were wonderful works of art. Beware you hotdogs! Cringe you marshmallows!

Relaxing for the evening, people began to think about plans for the next day. Morning cleanup promised to be quick. "Real men don’t condition their hair. They condition their ear hair and nose hair."

Nervous from the bad run of weather we had been experiencing for the past week, people often asked what the forecast would be for the white water rafting trip on Saturday.

Leo answered, "It doesn’t matter. We’re going rain or shine. If you managed to stay dry at the end of the rafting trip, I’ll get you wet."

While the air cooled, I put on a long sleeve shirt, then a jacket. The countryside can cool down quickly after the sun set, making the layered wardrobe useful. Gradually, the latecomers arrived to camp, directly from their jobs, and settled down.

Many people, including me, went to bed early. If the night is warm, I use the sleeping bag as cushion and lay the blanket on top of me. If I get cold, I snuggle inside my sleeping bag, beneath the blanket, and wear my jacket. The layered bed system worked very well on the two nights I stayed. Another person used a heavy down blanket that was too much for the summer nights. It kept him up most of the night as he overheated one minute, then shiver the next as frigid breezes, rustling the trees, cut through his blanket. For the next trip, he planned to bring a windbreaker to lay on top of his sleeping bag.

One thing I should’ve brought over was the eye cover, in spite of being miles from any city lights. People were still arriving from Boston and settling down hours after I went to bed. Their flashlights playing on my tent fabric looked like Matt Redman’s video, "Blessed Be Your Name," which John likes to play during his Celebrate Recovery worship services.

Earplugs may be handy in case a bullfrog holding a bullhorn decides to set up his stage in front of my face one night. Thankfully, I never heard any frogs. Maybe the vacuum cleaner noise scared them all away. Why would a camper need that? Later on, I found out that one of the latecomers had inflated a bed. The camp became quiet once everyone settled down. Only an occasional pickup truck passed through. Sleep came in spite of being in unfamiliar territory.

Saturday

At not quite five, a touch of blue colored the morning sky. Birds of numerous varieties chirped and twittered me awake. The crow was the loudest of them all. As the sky brightened and the birds quieted, I fell back asleep. At not quite six, a deafening rooster crow noise woke up the whole campsite. That’s Leo making sure that the people would be ready to depart for the whitewater rafting by seven. The yawning campers drank cups after cups of Arlene’s coffee and chewed on bagels. They love her for that small act of charity. Few could stomach the thought of getting up any earlier for a more substantial breakfast. I had herbal tea and a bagel. I brought along a Topspeed software developer mug and a partially filled Mason jar for that purpose – many spoonfuls of sugar. Pastor Francis returned from his walk while the early birds were still sleeping.

We watched the whitewaters group leave the camp and waved them a good trip. Afterwards, some went back to sleep. One relaxed with a hand held video game. Others wandered off somewhere. I went to the camp’s store to buy a bag of ice to refill the cooler. Quiet once again settled in the area. It’s the one luxury a good campsite has in abundance in which my city of Quincy lacks. I took my chair to a nice spot near the brook to add to my journal, intended for eventual publication. My seat was well away from our crowded city of tents.

The brook, a constant companion to the campers, makes a comforting neighbor with its voice. The white noise of burbling water can drown out the other sound and lull people to sleep. While in bed inside their tents, several commented that they mistook the sound for rain. It’s an understandable misconception since they both are basically flowing water.

Long ago, someone built a wall following the brook by using the rocks littering the ground on the other side. Some of the smaller boulders weigh a hundred pounds or more. Plenty more are left over. The camp owners don’t know when the wall was built. Maybe centuries ago when settlers divided up the land for farming. One guy in the camp described how his relatives used to roll rocks into place by using poles for leverage. Eventually, the farmers moved west to find greener pastures. After they left, the farms became overgrown with bushes and trees. New England may be the only place in the world where a hiker may stumble upon a stone wall in the middle of the deep forest.

Foam settled in some spots along the brook. One, trapped between the rocks, looked like a truncated sandy-white cone perpetually rotating on the restless water. Like clouds, they can take on shapes of things when helped by a healthy dose of imagination. Another looked like a dog, its large nose nuzzling the water while begging for affection.

At last, 10:00 AM arrived – the opening time for the swimming pool. With my bathing suit on, I walked to the edge and debated the best way to get in. Timidly, I stepped into the liquid ice. Ripples radiated massive amount of body heat away as I sank in. Freezing tentacles inched up my feet, my legs. Burrrr! Their grip tightened ever more. Normally, I prefer to swim during the afternoon when the sun has enough time to warm the pool. But on that day it probably would take one week worth of heat wave to make the water temperature bearable. Once up to my thigh, I changed my mind. Jumping in all at once to get the pain over quickly sounded like the best way. A short splash washed away all self-doubts. I’m committed.

Pat soon afterwards, entered the pool grounds. While standing at the edge, his kids encouraged him. "Jump in, jump in," they cheered. "If you jump in we’ll jump in." Finally, Pat slid into the water to the children’s joy. Richard and his wife didn’t even bother putting on their bathing suits. They sat comfortably on their chairs and watched us polar bears frolic in the water.

With the morning business finished, we sat around Richard and listened to him play his guitar. Ever since the young ladies’ fairs and the Ladies Society furnished the church with an organ well before it was even founded, music makes up an important part of us. We all love fine music and appreciate the talented musicians who bring them out to the public. A guitar should be required equipment for any retreats. I don’t think I ever remember going to one without hearing at least one being played.

In fact, music is the reason why Richard became a member of the Congregational Church. While he was walking his granddaughter to the park one Saturday, he heard music playing from our church as the Sunday service band practiced. Admiring the thumping drums and Matt’s guitar performance he decided that the church would make a great place to call home. On Sunday, the next day, he came to service. After it was over, he asked the band if he could join, and they immediately accepted his offer.

As the clouds thickened, several in the audience joked that Richard should play some sunshine music to bring back the nice weather. The clouds scattered and the sun beat upon us for the next hour while he played. Richard eventually had to stop after his fingers started throbbing. It was a great show.

Meanwhile, at the far-western end of Massachusetts, the whitewater-rafting group had sunny weather and great fun getting wet. On the first leg, a raft hit a sudden dip in the rapids, flipping both Bill and Pam Glover into the drink at the same time. Bill joked, "Do we have to do everything together?"

The guides loved feeling the surge of power from each enthusiastic stroke as the people paddle the raft along the river. They went through sections of the river named Lemon Squeezer, Mine Field, Pinball, Slam Dance, and others. They were the easy routes. I wonder what they name the really difficult rapids?

Ben the guide commented, "Later on our wheelie was hilarious, but it was even funnier to watch the other boat flip." Watching the rubber raft standing almost straight up while everybody huddle on the stern has to be seen to appreciate the craziness.

After reaching the end of the route, the rafters enthusiastically started a water fight as promised. The pastor got nailed. Everybody got nailed. Try not to lose a bucket or it will float to another raft and appropriated for use against you. The enemies are always seeking ways to increase their weapons stash. Lose both buckets and you’ll be a sitting duck.

At last, the rafting was over. After they departed for Pines Campground, the weather deteriorated.

Above the Pines Campgrounds, ominous clouds, heavy with a load of lightning and rain, darkened the sky. Minute by minute, they relentlessly stalked closer.

"Quick, play your sunshine songs!" somebody cried out.

By consent, we decided to start a cooking fire to cheer up the returning group. They saturated the wood with lighter fluid and used piles of paper before getting a little something going for the marshmallows. Curiously, a knot in the log was the only place that actually caught. Meanwhile, I whittled a stick for the children to enjoy using in roasting.

We had not enough time to roast more than a few marshmallows before the first drops herald the coming of a drenching. We scattered. Some took refuge in their cars. I held up in the recreation hall. The downpour had put our little fire out of its misery. I was prepared for staying out all day in the rain if I have to. I have extra clothing and an old pair of sneakers I really should throw away. Unfortunately, the lightning forced us to stay inside. Without any games, the time crawled forward with agonizing slowness. Every lazy tick of the clock needed constant prodding. In the rush to pack together all my electronics to carry over in a backpack to the recreation hall, I forgot my only reading material. I could fetch it, but felt reluctant to run outside to the metal supported tent. Next time, I’m bringing over far less electronics and will plan a permanent place to store my "must stay dry" items.

The busy staff needed the largest room in the recreation hall to prepare the barbecued chicken. Even though the large drum-shaped grill stood outside, breezes pushed heavy smoke into the room. Rain hissed as the chef raked the red-glowing coals on the grill. On every stroke flaming tongues licked the embers. A wave of sparks bursts upwards, then another. After the chef felt satisfied, he shut the cover.

The storm appeared to be drawing to the close. Rain lessened and the sky began to lighten. In the midst of the storm, the whitewater-rafting caravan arrived. Once more, joyful conversation filled the game room. Balls on the pool table clinked as players maneuver them nearer to the six pockets. Two Ping-Pong players kept the ball going in an easy going, "Pok-tik, pok-tik" movement.

At least two people, both outside the game room, heard a sizzling, buzz an instant before a tremendous boom slammed the woods. Another explosive bolt hit somewhere far too close. The rain increased once more, in spite of the sun shining its empty promise of approaching fair weather. Nobody spotted any rainbows. Never go to the woods for stargazing or observing meteorology – too many trees blocking the view. A camp-wide power outage immediately ended the video games and darkened the interior. Fortunately, it was still light enough outside for people to easily move about.

A group sitting out in the porch enjoyed themselves while watching the sonic shock waves shake the windows and talk about the weather.

"The lightning will hit the highest place, where we are sitting right now. Next, it will strike the swimming pool."

"It did hit the transformer."

The blackout didn’t make the camp staff miss a beat. They started a power generator to keep the bare necessity running – a spotlight and the coffeepot. They organized everything in place and began serving while the sky began to darken with the setting sun behind the thick clouds.

Wouldn’t you know it, they had beans for supper, bringing up my foggy memories of the Beans Day. During the mid-1980s, a Christian homeless shelter in Boston decided to promote Beans Day to encourage people to donate food. The event went well except for one problem. The organizers may have used beans to invoke images of hungry pioneers eating by the campfire. Many charitable donors had mistakenly interpret it as a request to bring in canned beans. After it was over, the storeroom had far too many canned beams of every size and variety imaginable. Some cans looked big enough for commercial use. It turned out to be worst than the fabled one-month turkey leftovers after Thanksgiving. When they promoted the next Beans Day, they specifically requested donors to not bring any beans.

I didn’t touch the beans. I had everything else. They kept their recipes simple, but hearty, fit for the hungry campers. I loaded up on potato salad and casserole. The barbecued chicken breast was huge. It took up most of my plate. A knife is a camper’s friend. Already I had witnessed its numerous potentials and I believe that it has many more I cannot imagine. One thing I did not need it for is to cut the chicken. They cooked the deliciously tender breast just right.

Hundreds of antiques hung on the walls of the large dining room. Most were tools. They also hung framed newspaper clippings on the wall. They even have an old fridge on display. Anybody who has a love for history would have a fun time browsing in the room.

After we cleared the plates and wandered around, the power went back on. I could hear the cheer from outside. With the rain over, I decided to inspect my tent. I don’t see a hole burnt through the fabric from a lightning strike. That’s a good sign. Rain muddied the bottom three inches of the outside flap on the front side. Inside, a few puddles formed from leaks I could never locate. They did wet some spots on my sleeping bag, but my clothes were dry. I put my extra shirt into good use by mopping up the puddles. I had no hope in air-drying my sleeping bag with the sun down, but it should be comfortable enough. I was lucky. Next time, I’m planning to bring extra trash bags to stuff my bedding and clothing. Tied up well, the plastic should keep them dry enough in case of rain. Leo once commented that trash bags are very useful in a camping trip.

A number of people whose luck failed suffered soggy wardrobe and bedding. They either made plans to sleep in their cars or broke camp to drive home a day early. One tent without the flysheet leaked badly in spite of the plastic sheet thrown over the roof. Water rolling down the plastic probably entered through the edges since the sheet only partially covered the roof. Some people theorized that minor flooding caused the leaks. Many tents were stationed on low-lying grounds. The ones on the higher ground kept dry. Personally, I feel that the newer tents of quality material makes a huge difference in weathering storms.

Stars sparkled above the clear nighttime sky while the remnant huddled around the campfire. The people in charge of the sputtering flames tried drying the logs by placing near the fire, but it didn’t work. The fire consumed the dry exterior section, but it smoldered and died after it singed the still moist core.

Several people came to the rescue with armloads of dry wood. In no time, flames vigorously leapt upwards. The men also sacrificed the nice marshmallow sticks to the fire. Oh well, they went for a good cause. We all relaxed on our chairs, warmed by our success. A few guys shone flashlights through the drifting smoke, making an interesting play of shadows and light.

The kids joked and told stories inside their tent late into the night. Several adults played card games in the recreation hall well past midnight. The rest watched the campfire burn brightly after many went to bed.

My flashlight handled the two nights of heavy use fine. Still, I felt that next time I should bring along a spare pocket flashlight in case the batteries in my big one should die while walking down the pitch-black road.

I stayed up much later than usual to give my tent more time to dry, but the extreme humidity and dropping temperature made things feel moist. Raindrops, falling from still-wet leaves fluttering above me, pattered against the tent on and off till morning. My bed still felt comfortable enough to sleep well.

The heavy rains had one silver lining. The woods normally are crawling with bugs. Everybody knows about the dirty little hypodermic syringes with wings swarming the campground. They relentlessly annoy people with their tiny whine close to people’s ears before jabbing. That little bugger deserves a good sharp slap, smearing its carcass against the hand. The wet weather kept most of the mosquitoes away for the duration of the long weekend.

Sunday

Morning started bleak and cloudy. After a four-dollar breakfast meal, we had Sunday service. Pastor Francis originally planned to conduct the service, but had to leave early Saturday evening, so Pastor Stephen Donahue from the Christ Community Church of Neponset spoke. Many members from both churches are good friends and love to share outside activities together. The rafting trip gave Stephen a thousand and one new ideas for a sermon.

With service over, we quickly took down the tents and crammed everything into the vehicles. We could stay at the camp longer, but with more rain coming our way, we didn’t see the point. Already, people began discussing plans for next year’s whitewater-rafting trip. The trip was a big success with 6 rafts – two more than last year.

Church Anniversary

2009-05-11T04:33:00.000-07:00

When the Memorial Church of Atlantic was organized on September, 1885, delegates from several churches arrived. At least two of the churches are still around today – The Neponset Trinity Congregational Church and Park Street Church of Boston. Park Street Church, founded on 1809, is celebrating its 200th year.

The Neponset Trinity Congregational Church is the second such church. Today, it is named Christ Community Church of Neponset. It was established on May 10, 1859. On May 9, 2009, the church had its 150th year anniversary banquet in the Boston Winery’s. The winery was close to the church and has a nice historical atmosphere to it, brick walls and all. People entered through the beautifully grapevine decorated metal gates into the spacious hallway. The tables were elegantly set up with formal settings and two wine bottles. Each bottle had a customized sticker displaying the church’s sanctuary.

As a very nice show of acknowledgment to the non-drinkers, they had set up a separate bar stocked with high-quality nonalcoholic drinks. The flavors included sparkling blueberry juice, sparkling apple cider, sparkling cranberry juice, and sparkling pomegranate juice. For the ones not that adventurous, the bar also had several boring sodas bottled by multinational companies. Leo and Pat attended the bar. Leo enjoyed mixing the flavors. He’s certainly adventurous in his blends.

The order of the banquet, starting at 3:00PM was:

- Pastor Stephen Donahue gave the welcome.
- Dinner and fellowship.
- Christ Community Worship team led the praise and worship music.
- Reflection and special presentations.
- Rev. William Donahue gave the time of sharing of the word of God.
- Sarai Ortig sang the solo. Many expressed their admiration of her voice.
- Dr. Brinkley gave the special time of commemoration.

The place was bursting in the seams from so many visitors. The workers had to bring in an extra table to seat everybody. The crowd milled about, sharing what’s new. Many haven’t seen each other for years. I know a few members from the Christ Community Church of Neponset. Many members of the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic had attended as well. They said that their church was an offspring from the Neponset church.

On display was nineteenth century notebooks filled with clean handwritten notes and loose letters. Also on the table was a wooden box containing the original baptism bowl and communion set. Two cups have, on the bottom, stamped imprints that look very similar to the Massachusetts’ state seal. Two cloth bags, protecting the religious artifacts, have a soft, comforting feel of a well-worn child’s security blanket. People were thrilled to see such items, heavy with so much history.

The celebration ended at about 6:30. A few people at a time left. The length of the celebration went fine – not too long. The ministers fully expect the church to last another 150 years.

Commentary on the Deed to the Church Property

2009-04-07T05:02:00.000-07:00

Why did I bother writing about the dull, dry, legal document? The church council wondered the same thing. Including myself, I won’t be surprised if only ten people actually read the whole thing since it was recorded in 1885 – five of them doing so because suffering from insomnia, wanted something to put them to sleep. The church’s deed is so dry I get an uncontrollable urge to drink jars of water just by thinking about it. Legal mumble jumble isn’t really the domain of a history blog. A couple more articles like this, and the readers may get suspicious that I’m running out of things to write about. Yes, I do have to admit that I sometimes have trouble finding topics, but in this case, I feel that this will be a worthy article.

Address Mystery

This project actually turned out to be a lot harder than anticipated. One of the church board members immediately objected to my plan on publishing the complete church deed to the blog. Technically, since a deed is public document, I could legally show it for the world to see. His concern is that the much of the world hates Christian churches. People could use the legal document as a weapon to get the church into all sorts of legal troubles. Eventually, we worked out a compromise that satisfied both of us. I can hand out the complete reprint of the deed to the church’s council and my blog will paraphrase its important parts. No liberal lawyers would be able to use that to sue.

An even more difficult problem surfaced when researching the church’s address. The deed stated that its property consisted of four straight lines. The east side, 80 feet long, bordered Contest Avenue formerly called Pitt street. The south side, 171 and 84/100 feet long, bordered Depot Street. The west side, 80 feet long, bordered Patrick Barry’s property. The north side, 170 and 75/100 feet long bordered Benjamin F. Prescott’s property. In all, the plot is a 13,650 square foot rectangle. Today, the church’s east and south sides are still bordered by streets, but Contest Avenue and Depot Street don’t exist in today’s maps. They probably had been renamed not long after the deed was written.

While browsing through the old Quincy directories, I found a mystery. The 1891, 1897 Quincy directories both had the Memorial Congregational Church’s address at the corner of Newbury and Atlantic Avenues. On 1898 and afterwards, the Quincy directories had the same church listed in a different corner, Newbury Avenue and Sagamore, Atlantic. It looked like the church may had relocated somewhere between 1897 and 1898. It doesn’t sound so good as that would neutralize the power of its deed. I doubt that it’s a simple street renaming. If that was the case, then the Quincy directories would have the street connections of Atlantic and Sagamore switched between 1897 and 1898. They never were. Atlantic and Sagamore had very little changes on 1898 and they have their own distinctive set of street connections.

Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, I hunkered down by the microfilm reader and browsed through the Quincy Patriot newspapers. It had a paragraph about the Congregational sewing circle taking its annual trip to Nantasket. It would certainly find space somewhere about a whole Congregational church moving to another block. Thankfully, the work isn’t as tedious as it looks. I need to only browse through the short Atlantic News section of the Quincy Patriot and it’s a weekly newspaper. The 1896, 1897, and 1898 issues have plenty of fine materials for my upcoming articles, but it mentioned nothing about the church’s relocation. Not one church ad listed the street address of the Memorial Congregational Church, so I can’t do a cross comparison between the newspapers and the Quincy directories.

Eventually, I asked one of the church members for some legal advice about the deed. He said that the party who sold their property could never keep its deed. In the church’s case, if the Memorial Congregational Church really did move, then they can not own the original 1885 deed. Since the church, to this day, owns the original 1885 deed, then they still occupy that same plot of land. They certainly never had permanently relocated. The Quincy directory may have an error. If so, it certainly won’t be the last time. The editors may have forgot to add "Sagamore" to "Sagamore, Atlantic". Another possibility is that the directory may have listed an office located in a separate address from the small chapel.

Unbroken Agreement

Covenants are the whole point of Christianity and Judaism. In my humble opinion, people will have an excruciating time placing their priceless souls under God’s care if they can’t relate to the meaning of the term "promise". Just as broken promises would hurt the Christian walk, I feel that America, as a land without trust, would be bleak indeed. "The best neighbors to have at your survivalist retreat are none." "Don’t allow any strangers to approach and enter your property or they could compromise your defense." The combat manual for surviving America’s collapse also lists the countless variety of guns to stockpile. I won’t be too thrilled living in a society where I constantly worry about having a redneck’s shotgun pointed at my face.

All too often, justice failed, giving one more person another reason to lose faith in the system. To keep me from becoming consumed in the roaring flames of cynicism, I treasure examples of promises, treaties, vows, anything, which have been faithfully kept. I especially treasure the ones that last for centuries.

Near the corner of Quincy Shore Drive and East Squantum Street, on the beach side, is a sign commemorating the treaty between the Indians and the colonists.

1630 1930

Moswetuset Hummock

Moswetuset Hummock was the seat of Chickatawbut, Sagamore of the Massachusetts Indians; adjoining were their planting grounds. "Massachusetts" means "At the Great (Blue) Hills." With Chickatawbut Governor Winthrop made a treaty which was never broken.

Winthrop

- By the Massachusetts Bay Colony Tercentenary Commission.

A short walk from that sign is the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic. Compared to Governor Winthrop’s treaty, the church’s deed is just a baby in age, but it still has a very important role. The deed clearly states that the land and all structures inside it shall always be occupied and enjoyed for evangelical congregational church purposes. Any teaching and preaching proclaiming inside the property will always be about the Gospel, the same ones as proclaimed in other Massachusetts’ evangelical congregational churches.

Houses were torn down; trolleys rumbling in the roads were disassembled along with their tracks; hordes of families came and went; granite quarries closed; but the primitive typewritten words on several pieces of paper had remained untouched. The church is still Evangelical and Congregational. The deed powerfully challenges the church leadership to stay the course, the same as what the founders had envisioned well over a century ago. That the deed and treaty are both still unbroken after all these decades is quite amazing. I wish to see more examples of agreements that were faithfully kept. Come enter into the plot located in 65 Newbury Ave, Quincy Massachusetts within a hundred days or a hundred years into the future. Seeing the same church still occupying the same land will do a great deal in reassuring people that promises can be faithfully kept.

Enjoyment

Unlike the South who may have a reputation of spreading the gospel by preaching, and sometimes getting too preachy, the New England church has a tradition of inviting people to go to picnics, parties, and other fun activities. Once the newcomer becomes comfortable with the church, a member would say, "Let me tell you about Jesus." In general, the New England Christians are more interested in programs, rather than denominations. The programs may be youth groups, student groups, and so on. The author of the deed thought that all work and no play wouldn’t be such a heavenly philosophy. Not only should the land be used for teaching and preaching; it may also be used for the church’s enjoyment.

The Process

On July 10, 1884, Benjamin F. Prescott deeded the property to Robert F. Gordon. On August 9, 1884, the congregational society had reported to the Quincy Patriot newspaper that they had purchased the property. The deed was ss on Boston, September 15th, 1884. The deed had stated that Gordon sold the property to Horatio N. Glover, Edmund R. Wade, and James Burr, church Trustees, at a price of one dollar. Robert Gordon and his wife, Annie Gordon, both sealed the deed. It was recorded, entered and examined on April 20, 1885. This is one example of the slow pace people lived back during the old days.

The deed should be considered as a wonderful memorial to Benjamin F. Prescott. He sold his land to the church at half-price. He could have made a pile of silver pieces if he instead sold his property at market price or build houses for rent.

The November 24, 1883 issue of the Quincy Patriot mentioned that Mr. H. E. Coombs was busy constructing a house on Appleton Street. Nearby, Mr. John Donovan was also constructing a large double house on Glover Ave. On Depot Street, Mr. John Golden had finished digging the cellar where his new dwelling would soon rise. On the summer of 1883, a large and beautiful, but unfinished house had been erected on Contest Ave.

The December 8, 1883 issue of the Quincy Patriot mentioned more on the busy sounds of housing constructions in the Atlantic Village. Several men looked at the village with thoughts of building more houses.

Just to rub it in, the December 6, 1884 issue of the Quincy Patriot had more news about the housing boom - scant months after Benjamin sold his property.

Our esteemed citizen, Capt. Charles N. Hunt, has been compelled to move to Wollaston this winter, as no unoccupied house could be found in Atlantic. This should open the eyes of investors in real estate towards putting up a few small houses, with about eight rooms each, which could be let readily in our village at from fifteen to eighteen dollars a month; as it is well known that no more healthy place exists in Massachusetts than on the plains in Atlantic.

Not Official

2009-03-23T09:16:00.001-07:00

This blog is not the official site of the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic. This is an independent web site. The church does not own this site nor do the officials pay me so much as a zinc penny for its contents. Any commentaries are solely from myself. The pastor or other church members may not necessarily agree with what I had written. Any heresies you may see here are solely my responsibility.

All Church Gatherings

2009-03-23T09:14:00.000-07:00

Sunday, March 15, 2009 had been a busy day for the church. Dottie Graham, a fixture in the church since baptized as a baby long ago, is relocating to Hudson, Massachusetts. She needed to live closer to her family and grandchildren. She made an excellent choice. Her new community has quiet woods and many paths to explore. Her new kitchen is huge, perfect for cooking meals for her visitors. In her old place, it looked like a closet crammed with appliances. In her honor, the members organized a potluck dinner. Of course, it was multi-cultural. An immigrant from Vietnam got up at 5:00AM to prepare her home cooked meal. To make it more authentic, she traveled to Chinatown to pick up the ingredients. An American put together a fantastic potato salad with hard-boiled eggs mixed in. We also had eggplant casserole, macaroni, rice, chicken, and plenty more. Pastor Francis commented on his sermon, before the dinner, that on wide spreading wings, the Gospel had reached into the deepest nook on Earth. Citizens, from every nation, will populate the Heaven. Each will contribute their own taste to the dishes of manna laid out for sampling. Countless variety of meat and vegetables will be prepared with a bewildering variety of spices depending on the cultures they grew up.

An entire table, who for some reason all selected grape juice as their beverage, made a toast using their Styrofoam cups. Grape juice - they should have some of that up there. The children read Bible verses from their own sheet of paper. Flipped over, their six sheets, decorated with crayon artwork, spelled "Dottie". Members after members spoke about their appreciation of her decades faithfully serving the church and gave her a scrapbook along with a batch of cards to read. Already, members are making plans to visit her in Hudson once she settles down.

The dinner was finished up quickly as the members need to attend the all-church meeting to hear the officers’ reports and then decide their fate by secret ballots. The reports all went smoothly with few questions along the way. Amazingly, the treasurer managed to actually increase the church fund while the Americans and a good portion of the planet are suffering from the Great Recession of the Twenty First Century. The treasurer gave credit to the members’ faithful tithing and he appreciated how smoothly his annual report went.

Regrettably, not everything went well. Four board members had to step down for various personal reasons. The church may be hanging on in spite of the recession, but the members are not unaffected by it. Not one church member stepped up as replacements, resulting in some board members doing double duties. Bill Glover, the moderator, expressed hopes that once a new batch of church attendants signed up as members they’ll be willing to fill in the vacancies. The ballots, the names being all incumbents, were quickly filled and dropped in the plates. With no competition, everybody won by a landslide.

On the third Sunday of every month, the church council meets to hash out numerous issues. "This shouldn’t take too long," was a common joke among the veterans used to hours-long meetings. The treasury reports were especially brutal. Starting with that in the agenda is a good idea – people are fresh at the beginning. Then there’s the summertime. The board members probably imagine sounds of cheerful splashing in the sun-speckled waters while inside the dark room trying to grasp the 93 items in the church accounts. With all that, the church members certainly would think twice before accepting the nominations.

For about a year, Bill has been thinking about changing the structure of the board meetings so they would meet only four times a year. The board of deacons will meet for their own issues; the finance committee will deal with the 93 items in the church account; and so on. Once each group has the item settled, the head will present the summary to the main board meeting for a quick vote. Hopefully, by seeing so many good council prospects intimidated, the board will be spurred to pass the new and simpler schedule within a month or two.

Spreading the Jobs Around

2009-02-04T05:15:00.000-08:00

I remember hearing years ago a parable about a game of football. The professional players in the field desperately need to rest. Their overworked bodies, battered by 300-pound offensive linemen falling on top of them, are often on the edge of collapse. I wonder what the percentage of players who left their last game on a stretcher for retirement? Meanwhile, thousands of overweight spectators, sitting above the field, desperately need to play more sport for exercise. Football anybody?

Pastor Francis too wouldn’t want to see so many volunteer jobs concentrated to a few people. That’s a short path to burnout. Francis believes that an excellent pastor, if he managed things just right, should eventually find himself easily replaceable by the hundreds or so skilled volunteers. Members can even do sermons during Sunday Service. On one cold December morning, Don Johnson had substituted for Pastor Francis. During Pastor Bill’s term as pastor, Claudio Poles and David Fillmore stood on the pulpit.

That sort of flexibility sounds exciting. As a programmer since high school, I treasure the freedom the computer industry gives people to explore and stretch out their talents to see how much they may excel. Any ten-year-old kid off the street can freely download and install MS SQL Server 2008 Express on his Pinocchio Brand PC. With a few minor exceptions, that’s basically the same database server I use at work. He could spend until high school graduation studying its capabilities. No need to spend all day filling out applications and government forms in triplicates to prove he’s worthy to experience its power.

So, what if a member wants to try his skill in speaking a sermon? Since the pastor is responsible for sermons, he would be a good person to approach. The pastor will take several areas into consideration when selecting a substitute for Sunday service. The speaker must have good character and has proven himself in the church. The sermon is more than a half-hour lecture to politely sit through and endure. Pastor Francis considers it as a message from God. As far as skills, the substitute speaker must have good talents for communication and can easily look at the audience in the eyes. If not done right, he’ll hear snoring disrupting his train of thought. In all that, the pastor will be praying during his decision making process. One good news – gray hair isn’t mandatory.

What to do if the pastor gave the sad news that the man cannot speak the Sunday service sermon? Hearing "No" stings in spite of the very reasonable explanations Francis give. Sunday service is no place for training. Francis likes to assign a speaker and then confidently set him loose to do his work. Francis chose Don because he saw Don’s long experience in standing before a group as a Sunday school teacher. Don also studied extensively in theology. Claudio and David also did much work for the church.

The "No" doesn’t mean that he’s only good for keeping the church pews warm and forking over tithes. That would be a major insult indeed. The "No" may simply be a need for more time to grow as a member. The church has plenty of ministries in need for assistance, or room for new ones to help the member in his growth process. Also anybody hurting by tough questions can always find wise men or women for guidance.

Maybe his talents will fit better in another direction. One who believes that a man isn’t whole until his house looks like a public library will never be taken seriously if he berate people for not spending enough time reading the Bible. His story telling style may not work well as sermons but he may captivate the listeners during more informal settings in a classroom.

The route in joining a ministry may be a little muddy. Asking around should eventually lead to the correct leader. Starting a new ministry is more complicated. Because the church has no advanced training programs, he is expected to go to an outside school. Several members took that route. Lucas Poles and Matthew Glover are currently taking a seven-month discipleship training school with Youth with a Mission in Newton. Bill Glover, John Broderick, Claire Broderick, and Glenn Driscol took the Celebrate Recovery Leadership Ministry Training. Once he has a roadmap set up, he would meet with the church board during their monthly meetings. He would spell out exactly what his ministry is and what it will do. He may ask for use of the building, or for monetary support. Hashing out scheduling conflicts along with safety issues and preparations may take two monthly meetings or more. Expect misunderstandings. Don’t expect a speedy procedure. Good people skills should help during the process.

Fortunately, because of the nature of a small church, people know each other rather well. Often, someone from the nominating committee may approach a member and nominate him for a position in the church office. A member may nominate someone during the all-church meetings. The system does generally work out well. The church has elected even the very shy ones as church officials. Right now, roughly half of the church belongs to the board.

Atlas of the State of Massachusetts - 1870

2009-01-24T11:10:00.000-08:00

The title page states, "Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1870 by the secretary of the commonwealth and by Walling and Gray." The image was a part of Quincy from the Norfolk County page.

I came across the atlas quite by accident. While I was staying over in my aunt’s house during the fall, she wanted to price some of her antiques and happened to mention some old atlases of Massachusetts she had stored in the second floor. "Hmmm, I will find some old maps of Quincy very interesting materials for my history blog," I thought. Borrowing her Massachusetts atlas and point and shoot camera, I took everything to a room for some a quiet photo session. I lay open the book on the bed and tried to hold the camera as steady as possible. I didn’t want to fade the ink from the flash nor from the bright sunlight, so I simply depend on the camera’s high ISO to keep the image sharp enough. Focusing turned out to be poor, as I had no way to hold the pages flat. The center of the page was pin sharp, but the edges blurred. Cropping should fix the problem until I have a chance to bring over better equipment.

Because I didn’t have my memory card in my backpack, I had to email the pictures to my Juno account. For some reason, the pictures didn’t come through. They may have exceeded the file size limit. I could do nothing more until I returned to my aunt’s house for Christmas, with a compact flash card.

With the images finally safely stored away in my computer, I cleaned one up for publishing. In the map, the Atlantic church was to be built on 1885 in the vicinity of Atlantic and Nth Quincy S.H. The Neponset River is left of the church. Half Moon island eventually vanished.

Multi Cultural Christmas Celebration

2009-01-17T11:35:00.000-08:00

Note: ECCA is the abbreviation for Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Powerful winds whispered threats during the morning worship service. Multitude of crystallized flakes hurled themselves against the gray granite walls. They had buried roads and parked cars about an hour after the first snowfall on Friday afternoon. The storm continued all day Saturday without any letup. Sunday promised to be more of the same. What a way to celebrate the first day of winter!

"Cancellation" was a possibility that many worried. Toughen it out was another train of thought. "The show must go on." I remember hearing many sermons from frustrated ministers complaining about the weak American Christians. "They’ll fold up and stay home on Sunday if the weather is too cold or too wet," they would whine. If they compare the American Christians to the Japanese Marathon Monks of Mount Hiei, they would probably find the Christians wanting. Below is what the monk in training must perform:

Year 1: 26.2 miles a day for 100 consecutive days.
Year 2: 26.2 miles a day for 100 consecutive days.
Year 3: 26.2 miles a day for 100 consecutive days.
Year 4: 26.2 miles a day for 100 consecutive days, completed twice.
Year 5: 26.2 miles a day for 100 consecutive days, completed twice.
Year 6: 37.5 miles a day for 100 consecutive days.
Year 7: 52.2 miles a day for 100 consecutive days and 26.2 miles a day for 100 consecutive days.

Certainly, many church members would feel insulted if called dainty. Some are computer programmers. They have been known to bang their head on a stiff-necked bug for over a year before the monstrous, hairy bug wave the white flag. There are stubborn people, and there are really stubborn people. A church team once played out in the park by the Neponset River while rain fell from the low, gray cloud. Lightning seared across the dark sky here and there while the soccer ball continued to bounce across the field. They were fortunate that no bolt tore through anybody’s heart. Another guy reported to work while the April Fools Blizzard ravaged the trees and crushed some buildings like old soda cans under stomping boots. See the National Weather Report. A man enjoys jumping into the bracing waters of the Boston Harbor – on January First. Some would probably arrive for the Christmas celebration no matter what kind of gauntlet nature could set up outside. In my humble opinion, give an American something to believe in and he’ll move mountains to accomplish it.

Service ended. After hearing the weather report, Pastor Francis announced to the church members, mingling in the fellowship hall, that the Christmas celebration had been postponed. The snow would not end anytime soon. Francis did not want to ask people to risk injuries just for a show. There’s always another day. In Matthew 4:7, Jesus did quote the Old Testament verse, "Do not put the Lord your God to the test", in response to an idiotic request that he jump off the highest point on the temple. The angles shouldn’t be expected to miraculously push a spinning, skidding car across the icy roads into a safe parking spot. The organizer quickly agreed to reschedule the show to Friday night at 6:00PM.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Soon after 6:00PM, the show started with the interpretive dance by the ECCA’s girls. "Mary, Did You Know", sung by Clay Aiken’s CD, as the background music.

Next, came the traditional Christmas chorus sung by the Chancel Choir from Union Congregational Church. Men and women held black, large, but thin, songbooks wide open. They wonderfully voiced the peaceful hymns penned long ago.

Joanna Balla, the pastor’s young daughter, played "What Child is this", "We Three Kings", and "God Rest ye Gentlemen" with a flute. Unlike the recorder, a flute doesn’t have any mouthpiece that simplifies creating melody. She then played "Deck the Halls" with the French Horn.

"Cross with Faith", a not so traditional Christian Rock band, with guitar, bass, drums, keyboard, the works, played "Dear Father." The band members include Matthew Glover, Johanna Facada, and Johnny Ruiz.

As the main event, "The Unopened Gift" play began. The rescheduled time for celebration worked out well. The evening hours made the new spotlights really shine while the characters act their lines. Secure to a wooden board bolted to the wall, four spotlights face the stage from the middle of the hall. At the opposite side of the hall hang another four spotlights. At the front of the stage’s curtain, one spotlight, high above the stage, points downward. Behind the curtain, eight spotlights, grouped by fours, are attached to a pole hanging from the ceiling. Glen Driscoll controlled all the spotlights with one board. He also controlled a string of Christmas lights, lamp, and Christmas tree with another board.

After the actors walked off the stage, the ECCA’s young girls did their final interpretive dance. The CD’s song was "I know My Redeemer Lives", sung by Nicole Mullen.

The fellowship snacks and drinks from a variety of different cultures weren’t as fancy as many had hoped because the rescheduled celebration started immediately after work. One local wanted to prove that Americans don’t necessarily spend all their mealtimes devouring greasy hamburgers and hotdogs. The postponement didn’t affect him at all. He took the day off from work – plenty of time to prepare and nuke the sausage casserole with cabbage in the microwave oven. I doubt the Americans were too disappointed. The 8 by 8 inch American style dish was cleaned out. People also snacked on treats from the Taste of Taiwan restaurant.

Quincy Granite

2009-01-09T05:02:00.000-08:00

Many prominent buildings and temples were built out of Quincy granite. Included are the King’s Chapel, Boston, completed in 1749; Bunker Hill monument, completed in 1843; Quincy town hall; Boston custom house; the Stock Exchange Building in New York City.

The First Congregational Church (Unitarian) had an especially colorful history. John Adams generously paid for most of the Quincy granite used in the construction. The four doric pillars at the entrance weigh 25 tons each and are all 25 feet high. Each Quincy granite column is one piece. The columns, erected in 1828, are the first massive shafts quarried in Quincy. No power crane or other engines assisted the crew. The project was almost like maneuvering the stone blocks onto the Great Pyramid.

The current structure of the Memorial Congregational Church, eventually renamed as the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic, is also constructed of Quincy granite blocks. Nice to see a local church made from the same rocks as the ones faithfully holding together so many historical edifices.

"Everybody Welcome"

2008-12-30T09:04:00.000-08:00

This little tidbit was stumbled upon quite by accident. I was thumbing through the nineteenth century Quincy directories on another research project when I came upon a paragraph below the Memorial Congregational Church, "This church is broadly Congregational in its polity and embraces in its constituency people of all shades of Christian faith. Seats free. Everybody welcome." It took a while before it dawned on me just how rarely those precious words were printed in directories back then.

On 1891, none of the churches in the Quincy directory had printed, "Seats free," or "Everybody welcome." In spite of that, the book contained an impressive amount of church information. The directory had beautifully detailed engravings of two churches. The smallest church, St. Francis of South Braintree, used five lines to describe its church. On the other hand, the First Congregational Church (Unitarian) entry took up almost two pages when including the picture. Christ Church used well over a page and a half of text.

Below was a single entry in the 1891 directory. Note that "A." was an abbreviation of "Atlantic." Also note that "12 M." was another way of printing "noon."

Memorial Congregational Church, A.

Corner Newbury and Atlantic avenues.

Organized Sept. 22, 1885.

First Pastor. ¾ Rev. F. L. Bristol.

Present Pastor. ¾ Rev. J. Herbert Yoeman. Residence, 7 Newbury Avenue, A.

Deacons. ¾ Geo. W. Hill and Henry M. Hallett.

Clerk. ¾ Miss Grace D. Parker.

Treasurer. ¾ Edmund R. Wade.

Standing Committee. ¾ Pastor, Deacons, Clerk, and W. H. Robinson.

Organist. ¾ Horace H. Bemis.

Sunday School. ¾ Superintendent, C. F. Merrick; assistant superintendent, G. E. Todd; secretary and treasurer, C. Drew; librarian, George Bennett.

Services. ¾ Preaching at 10:45 A.M.; evening services at 7 P.M.; Sunday School at 12 M.; Prayer – meeting, Friday evenings, 7:45.

Woman’s Home Missionary Society. ¾ Meets each first Wednesday. President, Mrs. J.H. Yoeman; vice-president, Mrs. C. Hodgkins; secretary, Mrs. G. W. Hill; treasurer, Mrs. S. M. Bennett.

Ladies’ Benevolent Society. ¾ Meets each second Wednesday. President, Mrs. J. H. Yoeman; vice-president, Mrs. C. L. Coe; secretary, Mrs. J. F. Waterhouse; treasurer, Mrs. S. E. Todd.

Cadets of Honor. ¾ Meets every Friday P.M. at the church. Commander, Emillis Paul; Vice-commander, Mary Melyard; secretary, Daisy Bemis; treasurer, Harold Moody; guard, Fred Coombs.

King’s Sons and King’s Daughters. ¾ Meets every Sunday afternoon, under the management of Miss Mattie Foster.

I couldn’t find the 1892 or 1893 Quincy directories. The city may have never printed them, or the Thomas Crane Public Library may have lost them. I don’t think that they’re important enough to justify tearing apart multiple libraries to find them.

On 1894, the Memorial Congregational Church happened to be the only one out of twenty Catholic and Protestant churches in the Quincy directory that had the "Seats free", "Everybody welcome" printed.

On the 1896 Quincy directory 25 churches were listed. The Memorial Congregational Church had the same paragraph welcoming everyone. One other church had, "Seats free" and another had "All are welcome."

On the 1897 directory, the Memorial Congregational Church was the only church out of 24 which had the "Seats free", "Everybody welcome" greetings printed.

On the 1898 directory, the Memorial Congregational Church was the only church out of 25 which had the "Seats free", "Everybody welcome" greetings printed.

The Memorial Congregational Church dropped its delightful statement from the 1899 Quincy directory. Not one of the 25 churches expressed their intention to make any stranger off the street feel welcomed in their congregation. For five or seven years, the Memorial Congregation Church advertised their policy of tolerance and generosity with these same words, "This church is broadly Congregational in its polity and embraces in its constituency people of all shades of Christian faith. Seats free. Everybody welcome." Why did they stop then? The directory’s religion section looked so cold and business-like without those words.

After thinking about it for some time, I decided that I probably ended up better describing the organization of nineteenth century Quincy directories than the Quincy church cultures. The Quincy directories varied tremendously back in those days. The 1882-1883 Quincy directory, the first one ever published exclusively for Quincy, had only 144 pages and the 14 churches listed had only two or three lines each, describing the barest information. The 1891 directory, 366 pages, was detailed and nicely organized when listing the churches. Each title, event, and society had its own line. The 1899 directory, at 482 pages, was more compressed. The church titles were lumped into one paragraph and the positions were often abbreviated.

The trusty microfilm copy of the Quincy Daily Ledger may give a more accurate description of the Quincy church culture during the 1890s. The newspaper did encourage churches to submit their events. Below is a reprint of the Saturday, January 23, 1897 section:

Sunday Services.

3d Sunday After Epiphany.

This paper makes no charge for these notices and every church should be represented.

Moody says: "I don’t believe that any preacher need address himself to empty benches if he will only use a little common sense. Advertise. Put a notice in the papers. Stick out a sign. Often the only sign about a church is that hung out by the undertaker. Put out a bill of fare; show people what you have to offer them. Don’t be afraid if you shock some folks. That makes no matter. That’s just what they want – a good shock. People may say such a course is undignified. My friends – that’s just where the trouble is; we are overburdened with dignity. Let dignity be blown to the four winds. Dignity is not one of the fruits of the spirit. I believe if business men and newspapers were run as our churches are, they would all be bankrupt in less than six months."

Apparently, the nineteenth century churches were often shy in their outreach to the public. Quickly sampling through several Sunday Services notices, I noticed that the newspaper listings represented a much smaller number of churches than what’s counted on the Quincy directories. Moody wasn’t kidding.

OK, the Quincy Daily Ledger may be an excellent place to get an idea of how welcoming the Quincy churches were during the late 1890s. Churches were encouraged to send in notices for their activities. They could have whatever they wish published for free.

I took two dates for sampling. Saturday, January 23, 1897 was the first one. One entry had, "Christadelphia church – at 7 PM. The subject will be ‘Everlasting punishment." I think I’ll pass on that service. Yuck! Tallying the numbers, the final result wasn’t so bad as I feared. Out of 12 churches listed in the Sunday Services section, 6 had informed the public that everyone was welcomed. The Memorial Congregational Church was one of the 6.

The second sampling was for Saturday, November 18, 1899. Out of 14 churches listed in the Sunday Services section, 6 of them had, "all welcome", "You are cordially invited", and the like. The Memorial Congregational Church and the Christadelphia church both clearly stated that everyone’s welcomed.

Does this mean the other half of the Quincy churches were cold and insular? The numbers I calculated probably does not mean anything. Maybe that other half simply assumed that churches were supposed to invite everybody and saw no need to say so in directories or newspapers. Maybe most churches were simply not very skillful in advertising. Moody did complained about their lack of signs.

Pictures of Church Activities

2008-12-18T05:13:00.000-08:00

Nikola Tesla once commented about his social views on the January 30, 1926 issue of Collier’s, "When Woman is Boss". He believed that the bees form the perfect civilization. Romance and marriage should eventually be banished as quaint customs cluttering the lives of the primitives. Once intimacy is banished, the arts must be tossed into the trashcan, and leisure discouraged to raise mankind to greatness. The sole purpose of man should be as slave to the never-satisfied czar.

Somehow, I just can’t find the enthusiasm for Tesla’s "utopia". With time, people can tremendously increase their productivity, but they will always make lousy quality machines. God would’ve been better off creating Impersonal Business Machine’s model 360 mainframes if He wants people to spend all their time working. Computers don’t sleep nor require rest on the seventh day. I prefer a church where its yoke is light and its members have a place for relaxation after a good day’s work.

Pictures of white water rafting, apple picking, and retreats hung on the lobby of the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic – testimonies of the numerous diversions organized over the year. Below are some more pictures. I like to give special thanks to Frank who supplied me with the pictures of various church activities.

This is Calumet, a Lutheran Men's retreat in NH. Frank, Bill Glover, John Broderick, and, Glenn Driscoll were some of the people who attended.

Another camp. As you can see from their clothing, the picture was taken a long time ago.

Farewell party for Pastor Wayne Earl.

Installation service for Pastor Francis.

Vision Retreat 2009 (November 7, 8)

2008-11-18T09:54:00.000-08:00

The men and women of the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic had anticipated the Big Day for months. On Friday evening and all day Saturday, the leaders would gather together for the ECCA Vision Retreat to talk about the future. It had been quite a while. Two people, one who’s an old timer, didn’t remember the last time the church had a Vision Retreat.

Finding a place to stay required some research. The Salvation Army, a first choice, has a nice retreat. Certainly, it will be heated. Massachusetts gets very cold at nights during Novembers, and the pastor, being an immigrant from the tropical country of India, will not enjoy hearing his sleeping bag crunching on a layer of frost.

Dawes House? The house was an unknown in spite of standing a few short blocks from the church. Some members, who lived in Quincy for years, never heard about it. One of Francis’ faithful contacts told him about it. Located in the corner of Channing Street and Quincy Shore Drive, the small two-story house turned out to fit the need nicely. The house is also nice and warm. In the living room sat a cabinet, its shelves crowded with silver plated trophies, worn from one or more generations of polishing, and copper trophies. Above the display is a framed document, its ornamented letters stating the purpose of the house.

Franklin E Dawes and Jessie B Dawes

In grateful remembrances of our happiness while living and working among the inhabitants of the city of Quincy, have established this memorial hoping it will be filled with music, dramatic and other entertainments of which we are so fond and especially with singing and speaking on Sunday.

Leaders of every variety began filling the room at 6:00PM sharp. Some have conducted hours of meetings to iron out wrinkles getting in the way of a smoothly run church. Some, more independent, are part of no committees, but fitted well in various niches here and there. Sixteen people in all attended that Friday evening. Roughly the same number attended the Saturday meeting.

Pastor’s Statement

Once the leaders settle down, Pastor Francis opened up the meeting with a statement.

It has been three good months since I have taken over the pastoral responsibilities here. It has been a joy as well as a challenge to adjust to the new situation. Wilma and I have great appreciation for the church. During this brief period of our ministry here we have seen many strengths operating in our congregation, but we also noticed certain challenges. As we harness the strengths we want to work on the challenges and turn them into strengths.

Someone said Church is like the family I never had. Church I believe is a lot like a family. In fact I believe church is God’s redemptive family. If we are a functional church family the church can be a healing force, helping people to grow up emotionally and spiritually in ways that they have never grown before. Good communication, listening skills, forgiveness, acceptance, sensitivity to needs and a willingness to work through differences are part of a functional healthy family. Believe me, we are still working on this in my family with growing kids. It is so much easier to ignore conflict or tension and brush it under the carpet than to explore issues and be committed to deal with things in a godly way. Why is it so important? Because God is a God of relationships, he is a God of love. God loves people and he wants people to be loved by people. God has created men for relationships; right relationships. When relationships are not right, people hurt, this is a daily reality in our fallen world. In the culture around us people are not concerned with God’s kind of love, it’s all about me, getting my needs met. God obviously has meant a whole different culture than that, and where is that culture to be found? In the church!

If we are humble our hearts break with the thought of holding grudges against a brother or sister and we will be quick to take responsibility for our part of the problem. If we are humble we don’t hold on to our right to be right, we will care more about the relationship than about being right. If you are hurt with someone and the other person doesn’t even know, you may need to let the other person know what is troubling you. If someone comes up to you and tells that he or she is hurt because of something, seek to genuinely listen and to respond with grace without becoming defensive. A proper response would be "I am sorry that I have hurt you by my words or actions and I ask you to forgive me?" To which the other person can respond with "I forgive you and I will seek to work on improving our relationship". A humble person doesn’t expect the other person to come first but cares about right relationship and will therefore take steps to be reconciled. We need to let go off the past. We cannot afford to keep dwelling in the past hurts. We need to take time to resolve conflicts quickly and pursue reconciliation where possible.

The Church’s Core Values

- Loving God and growing in His word
- Biblically sound preaching – 2 Timothy 3:16
- Christ centered and holy living
- Reaching out to the broken and hurting
- Providing hospitality, welcoming newcomers
- Lifestyle of evangelism
- Praying and giving church
- Discipleship and mentoring
- Multi-ethnic and cultural diversity
- Family oriented
- Fun loving church

How the Lord Used the Church in the Past

- Launching new ministries and ministers
- Worship, children, youth, teenagers, young adults, men, women ministries
- Outreach to the needy, senior citizen luncheons
- Facilitating other ministries
- Making our church as a home away from home
- Missions both locally and internationally

- Evangelistic outreaches in the neighborhood (block parties, flea markets, coffeehouses, ect.)

Vision Statement

Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic’s vision is to love God first, build a community that loves God, one another and share the gospel message with all ethnic groups in Quincy and beyond.

Mission Statement

Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic’s purpose is to love God, while living in unity with one another and share the message of God’s love with all the ethnic groups in Quincy and beyond. We seek to do this by the following:

- Developing ongoing vibrant relationship with God and one another.
- Being the salt and light in the community.
- Providing opportunities for individuals to grow in their knowledge of God.
- Nurturing healthy marriages and families.
- Welcoming people from all ethnic backgrounds and walks of life.

In Closing

After the last words were written down, after the tables were rearranged to their former positions and the floors vacuumed, the leaders returned home happy at the results mined from the one and a half days work. The real test will come soon enough – whether the church members are able to leverage their core values and strengths to bring success to their vision.

"Diversity." Often the leaders spoke that word and its variants during the meetings. Francis, from the start of his ministry, has a passion for bringing the diverse people together. His business card has a picture of a bridge, the sky colored shades of purples from the sunset. He practices what he preaches. His wife is an immigrant from the Netherlands. The church shares the pastor’s vision. Members came from diverse age groups. Skills range from high-end software developers to people needing tutoring on how to push the "On" button. A wide variety of ethnic groups attend the services. Many are married to whites. I have to say that marriage is the ultimate bridge.

Church Merging

2008-11-04T04:57:00.000-08:00

During the early 1990s, Bill Donahue used to spend time with the kids as the youth pastor of Glad Tidings. When the old pastor left, he wanted to become their next pastor, but they elected somebody else. In spite of the setback, Bill still felt called to be pastor. He resigned from Glad Tidings and set out to form his own church. After joining the Four Square, he looked at various storefronts to rent for his services. While walking the streets of Quincy, he came across the Memorial Congregational Church. With little thought, he decided to walk up to the parsonage and ring the doorbell.

At that moment, the church’s pastor was praying. Total count of her members was about twenty and the numbers didn’t show any signs of improving any time soon. It was a far cry from the glory days of the past.

After World War II, growing families moved in droves to Quincy to take advantage of the cheap housing and spacious yards. From the 1940s through the 1950s, the church grew to 600 members. Most lived in the neighborhood. The Sunday School alone once had 250 members. Roughly 200 children attended Sunday school during the 1950s.

On 1960, as the church celebrated its 75th Anniversary, it slowly declined from 600 to 496 members. The trend, starting in 1959, continued for years before the council noticed. The children married, moved to still cheaper houses in the southern suburbs to raise there own children, and joined churches nearer to their new residences. Plymouth, Pembroke, and others were among the growing towns. Some relocated as far as Florida. Curiously, nobody from the Memorial Congregational Church moved north. Many other churches in Quincy also lost their members during the large demographics shift. Apparently, families living in the neighborhood have a tremendous influence over church growth rates.

On 1977, Rev. Arthur R. Curtis joined as Interim Minister and was installed as Pastor on January of 1978. New families arrived and the church experienced a modest growth. But the growth didn’t last. The 1990s began with decline.

Imagine their surprise when Bill both interrupted and answered her prayers. Bill agreed to rent the sanctuary for his Sunday morning services. On 1994, the Lord’s Planting was founded. On that same year, the financial crisis hanging over the Memorial Congregational Church was set on the path towards recovery.

Bill’s church grew. When the Dorchester Christian Fellowship disbanded in 1996, roughly half of the members joined the Lord’s Planting, roughly doubling its size. They didn’t all arrive at once, but trickled in over the weeks. Some knew each other for years. They also invited other friends from Dorchester. That’s why the North Quincy church had enjoyed such a large number of members commuting from Dorchester.

As the Lord’s Planting grew, its numbers became far larger than the Memorial Congregational Church. The two churches eventually merged and Bill became pastor. Sadly, a number of people didn’t like Bill’s style and left. Fortunately, the Congregationalists who stayed remain reliable.

These series of events should explain the unusual mixture of traditional Congregationalist and the more charismatic Four Square people worshipping together. Today, the two groups still hang around together during and after service.

Tidbits of the Church during the 1900s

2008-11-04T04:56:00.001-08:00

Teacher

Miss Lillian Waterhouse, elected as church Clerk on March 10, 1900, used to be Ruth’s third-grade teacher at the Francis W. Parker School. The three level brick building, built in 1917 and still standing today, is located on Billings Road. Ruth, a long-time attendee of the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic, still clearly remembers her after all those years. She was a wonderful teacher who showered kindness to the students. Miss Waterhouse was an example of the gentle reputation of the Parker School, copied to other schools throughout America.

Hymn

The hymn, "How Firm a Foundation", played 1910 during the lying of the cornerstone, is still being sung today. It’s based on the Biblical text from 2 Timothy 2:19. The text was from Rippon’s selection of hymn, 1787. The music was a traditional American Melody; Caldwell’s Union Harmony, 1837. The hymn was old before the Atlantic church first gathered. I like to see Matt try to play that with his black electric guitar.

Installation Service

2008-10-15T04:50:00.000-07:00

Pastor Francis wished that they would give the service another name. "Installation" reminds him of the annual Ganesh Chaturthi festival he often witnessed while living in India. The worshippers begin the event by installing Ganesh idols in homes and roomy tents. The idols are the image of the Hindu deity with the head of an elephant and tasked in removing obstacles. Every day, after seven in the evening, worshippers jam the street. Dancing, music, lights, and decorations give the cities a festive atmosphere. After ten days, every last Ganesh idol gets tossed into a convenient river, lake, or ocean. The meticulously sculpted works crumble into silt as they sink out of sight. They aren’t waterproof. Francis jokingly remarked that he hoped ten days after his installation service, he won’t get thrown away into the Boston Harbor with the rest of the rubbish.

Ten days will certainly break the record as the shortest term as pastor. Right now, Henry A Coolidge held that record. He was installed on 1907, but it went terribly wrong. His position became vacant by 1908. Francis has no intention of being a short-term pastor. Twenty or so years sounds like a decent amount of time as employed by the church. Maybe he’ll set the record as the longest serving pastor.

Well, I do have to admit the Americans do have a reputation of being fickle. Let me describe my favorite sport. Mechanical geniuses from all over the world gather together annually to compete with remote control robots. "How much money do I need to build one of these," is a common question. "All of it," is the answer. The opposing robots are placed in the arena. Killdozer, Blendo, Edgar the Hate Bug, Psychoblade, and others armed with an intimidating variety of saws, spikes, and hammers duke it out. A good victory is when the opponent comes in with a broom and garbage can to sweep up the wreckage. One place has the arena inside a bulletproof glass cube to protect the audience from flying debris. Destroying things has been popular in America for many decades. On September 15, 1896, William Crush entertained roughly 50,000 Texans by getting the engineers to ram together two unmanned steam locomotives at their highest speed. Americans don’t really worship Ganesh, but they are amazingly creative in finding spectacular ways to demolish their idols.

Sunday, September 28, 2008 began with a typical Sunday Service, except people dressed nicely in preparation for the 3:00 PM installation service. "Dress beautifully for a beautiful service," people were asked by email. Many members lived nearby but stayed in the church for the day. Those who left after the Sunday Service returned early. In spite of the 20 minutes wait before service was due to start, visitors were already filling the building. Some were ministers in the neighborhood. Many belonged to the Malden church – Francis faithful friends. Some were from Gordon where he studied. Curiously, only seven people signed the guest book. While they mingled in the sanctuary, Songs 4 Worship – Shout to the Lord CD played in the background. Francis enjoys playing worship music before starting his Wednesday’s Bible studies.

Order of Service

The worship band consisted of Matt Glover as the lead singer and guitarist, Johanna Facada as the keyboard, and Victor as the drummer. Matt’s web site is www.crosswithfaith.com.

The service began with words of welcome and an introduction by Bill Glover.

Dr. Alvin Padilla gave the opening remarks and prayer. He’s the associate professor of New Testament and dean of Gordon – Conwell Theological Seminary. He will oversee the program of The Center for Urban Ministerial Education. You can find the Seminary’s web site at www.gcts.edu. For some time, I’ve been curious if the Gordon who founded the seminary is the same Gordon who did so much in organizing the first chapel’s construction. That would make an interesting footnote to my history blog. No such luck; A. J. Gordon was a Baptist pastor. He had accomplished much, but probably never made any influence to a certain small church in Quincy.

Next came the first Scripture reading on Joshua 1:6-9

The congregation sang the first hymn acappella: Joyful Joyful, We Adore Thee. Maybe guitar, keyboard, and drums didn’t feel like the most appropriate instruments for playing the melody from Beethoven’s ninth symphony.

As his final task in guiding the church to a smooth transition, Wayne Earl read the second scripture reading – 1 Timothy 3:1-7.

The band played "The Old Rugged Cross" for the second hymn. How they managed to successfully use rock and roll instruments for playing something meant for organs is quite an impressive feat. Folk style music flowed from the hands and throats of artists who crowded the sanctuary.

The third and final scripture reading was Ephesians 4:11-16.

John Dale, area supervisor for CCCC did the charge and vows for the installation. While he was speaking, the acoustic guitar mysteriously fell from its stand. A crash and discordant strings rang. Graciously, John allowed Matt to inspect the prone guitar, understanding how delicate the expensive instrument can be. Matt quickly replaced it on the stand. Looked like the high tensioned steel strings won’t be snapping and flinging themselves across the room. John finished and turned to Francis for the vows. Francis replied, "I do," every time.

After the vows’ conclusion, Bill Glover invited the minister and board members for prayer and lying on of hands. A good size percentage of the regulars followed. They formed a squashed circle filling the space between the altar and front pew. Arms raised; hands rested on the pastor; more hands rested on others. Francis and Wilma stood side by side with heads bowed. Husband and wife gripped their hands for the duration of the prayer; their arms entwined. A few minutes passed before the audience broke up and returned to their seats.

To welcome the new pastor, Matt sang "My Desire".

Francis gave the benediction, ending the formalities.

It’s time for celebrating. The audience wasted little time moving to the fellowship hall. "I Can Only Imagine – Ultimate Power Anthems of the Christian Faith" CDs spun while people shared their stories. As usual, the tables creaked with a load of tasty tidbits to snack on, including cakes flavored with apple pieces. People still have leftovers from the apple-picking trip on the twentieth.

With the meals long since finished, people still hung around socializing. Francis and Wilma left a while ago for a well needed rest. Cleaners began to pick up things. I played Don Francisco’s "He’s Alive" as the last song before shutting down the stereo system. The party was behind and it went well. Long hours of work stretched ahead in the business of growing.

Going Away Party

2008-09-24T05:04:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, September 13, 2008, the church had a going away cookout and potluck for their former interim Pastor Wayne Earl. The planning committee wished to schedule the event earlier, closer to his last Sunday sermon, but it wasn’t possible. Getting the parsonage ready kept the church members scurrying for most of July. Traveling and settling the family in the new house kept Wayne and Lori busy for all of August.

Better late than never – more time to think of new kinds of edible delights to prepare. People brought in Chinese food, salads, barbecue chicken, curry chicken, and the traditional hamburger and hotdog. A number brought over plates of rice of many varieties. The smorgasbord was especially delicious that day.

The regulars all arrived, along with the occasional visitors. A few people came for the first time. Many expressed their appreciation for Wayne and Lori’s hard work in keeping the church together while the pastor search committee hunted for a replacement.

Wayne described how he first heard about the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic while living in France as a missionary. The church’s Missionary Committee supports a number of organizations. Some are near by, like the Quincy Crisis Center and the Dudley Street Ministry in Dorchester. Some, like the Gospel for Asia, are overseas. After opening the letter along with a donation, Wayne became curious about the small church in Quincy. He made a long distance phone call to have a chat. Claudio, who’s the church treasurer at the time answered. "Sounds like somebody from Mexico, judging from the accent," Wayne thought. He was a little bit off, as Claudio was from Italy. They had a good talk. Hanging up, Wayne though he’ll probably never meet them. The puddle is a rather formidable barrier between the two cities.

As it later turned out, Wayne and his family unexpectedly had to move to the Boston area for several years. He needed a place to work. The church needed an interim pastor. Problems were neatly solved.

Sadly, he couldn’t return to France as quickly as he hoped, but he was able to find a nice house to rent just a block away from the church. He’s going to Park Street Church, but is quite happy to be living so close to the many new friends he had made over the year as pastor.

Denominations

2008-09-12T09:04:00.001-07:00

The Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic has people from numerous varieties of denominations. Several were former Catholics. Some, including our previous pastor, Bill, came from the Four Square. One’s a Methodist. Another’s a Vineyard. The current pastor, Francis, is Assembly of God. The rest, including myself, are Congregational. Getting them all to hang together is "interesting." One of the important reasons Francis was chosen as pastor was his passion to bring together people from diverse cultures.

While doing research on the construction of the first chapel, I stumbled upon two major newspaper articles, in the Quincy Patriot newspaper, discussing about denominations and the need for unity. I thought that it would be good to publish because it sounded relevant for the church. Actually, (cough, cough), the Congregational church was in the center of the controversy.

It all started on April, 4, 1885 when the Congregational Church chapel was close to completion. It had been reported on the Atlantic News section of the newspaper that some of the villagers had formed a committee to locate a possible lot to construct a Methodist church.

Next week, on April 11, 1885, the Atlantic News section reported that some of the ladies of the 20 Unitarians families living in the Atlantic village expressed interest in building their own church.

Reprints from the Quincy Patriot

Saturday, May 16, 1885

Church Multiplication in Quincy

A vigorous protest is at last being made against building too many churches to the sparsely settled square mile. The Evangelical Alliance took up the matter at its meeting in Boston last Monday, and handled it in a very common sense manner. "Do not plant new churches where they are not needed, merely on denominational principles," was one of the sentiments applauded. There is both religion and money in that sentiment as everyone knows who has witnessed the irreligious rivalry and the scrabble for filthy lucre displayed by the three or four churches planted where one or two would suffice.

The Church Congress, an entirely new organization, which met in Hartford, Conn., this week, also devoted no small portion of its time to this same subject. This Congress is made up of all denominations, - Presbyterians, Methodists, Congregational Trinitarians and Unitarians, Episcopalians, Baptists, and of others "too numerous to mention." Its chief object is the promotion of Christian union and the feeling expressed was that we had gone far enough in the way of divisions, and their perpetuation in needless competing churches. What wastes of money and energy both at home and abroad comes of it! What can a church in a village of 1,000 inhabitants do for the promotion of religion and morality when it is struggling with two or three other churches for a dwarfed existence; In Quincy we have not escaped this sin against economy, Christian unity, and effectual service. It is the common judgement, that in parts of our town there has been a burdensome multiplication of churches. And recently there has been exhibited among us a curious illustration of the unreasonableness of certain denominational extensions.

The Atlantic union mission had for years flourished apace, members of many denominations worshipping side by side in the spirit of unity. At last it was decided to build a chapel. Their minister at this time, a Trinitarian Congregationalist, located at Neponset, exerted himself zealously to this end, and soon enough money was obtained to warrant the enterprise. It was begun, with the money thus contributed, regardless of denominational lines, when abruptly the minister announced that the movement would cease as a union mission and enter upon a new career as a Trinitarian Congregationalist church. Of course this procedure alienated the love of many and paralyzed the energies of more. A union church would take in all and was enough for all. A strictly denominational church meant exclusion and further and needless church building. Now, it might be supposed that the minister did this in his zeal for Congregationalism. But, no, it could not have been that, for, in the meantime, he gathered together and planted within fifty feet of the Congregational Trinitarian church at the centre, a new Presbyterian church. Here is a phenomenon in denominational extension which it is difficult to reduce to rational law. If Presbyterians and Congregationalists are so nearly alike that the same preacher satisfies both, what is the use of building another church when the one already built is sufficient to hold them all? Again, if Congregationalists and Presbyterians, and Methodists and Baptists, could worship together in peace, what end is gained by taking a name which drives away all but those who call themselves by that name? Is that the way to disseminate the gospel of unity among Christians and brotherly love? Is that the way to bring the Christian church to a solid front against appalling sins of the time? The unillumined lay mind finds its expression in these words of the Boston Daily Advertiser:

"Alas for the infinite, traditional and sacred folly worked out in the name of Christianity, in expending millions annually at home and among the heathen for the sake of some dogmatic phrases and holy tints and spiritual genuflections!"

- Unity.

Saturday, May 23, 1885

The Atlantic Church

To the Editors of the Patriot:

"Unity" must have been misinformed when he stated in your last issue that money was contributed for a church other than a Trinitarian Congregationalist at Atlantic. Before a cent of money was subscribed it was distinctly understood and favored by the people of Atlantic, that the present denomination should build the church, and it was so stated in the heading of each subscription book, so that there was not the possibility of a mistake in the matter. In one sense it is a Union church, for all denominations at Atlantic have united in its building and feel grateful to the Congregational minister, Rev. Robert Gordon, whose interest in our behalf, and unselfishness and zeal has procured for us a church where there was no Protestant church existing.

With all due respect to the spirit that would dispense with the multiplicity of churches, we would say that Atlantic has not been afflicted with the distemper in the past and hopes with one good flourishing church to carry out the views of "Unity" and let this one church suffice for the spiritual necessities of the people who have been so many years without church or pastor. No denomination is kept out but all are invited to worship in a spirit of brotherly love.

Rev. Robert Gordon’s course through the whole building has been straightforward and above reproach, without the slightest attempt at misrepresentation, or at anything underhanded, and the Atlantic people appreciate his ability and worthiness and sacrifice, and are only too glad to correct any statements to the contrary.

- Truth and Justice.

Atlantic News.

The communication of "Unity" in last week’s PATRIOT on "Church Multiplication in Quincy," especially that part which refers to this part of the town has been severely criticized by many who think that the writer either misunderstood the situation or willfully misrepresent it. In another column of this issue will be found the other side of the story. The publishers have also received another communication on the subject, but as the author was ashamed to give us his name it was doomed to the waste basket.

The new chapel will be dedicated next Thursday evening at seven o’clock and the Rev. F. L. Bristol installed as its pastor. The services will be as follows:

Anthem.

Invocation, Rev. A. E. Winship of Boston.

Hymn.

Scripture Reading, Rev. D. W. Waldron of Boston.

Prayer, Rev. Joshua Coit of Boston.

Historical Address, Rev. R. F. Gordon of Dorchester.

Hymn.

Sermon, Rev. Dr. Duryea of Boston.

Dedicatory prayer, Rev. E. W. Packard of Roxbury.

Doxology.

Benediction, Rev. F. L. Bristol.

In our report of the above services in the PATRIOT next week, we expect to give the historical address of Rev. Mr. Gordon in full.

The grounds about the new chapel are being graded and improved.

Construction of the First Chapel

2008-08-30T12:08:00.000-07:00

I have a decent amount of details about the opening ceremony of the first chapel built in 1885, but knew little about the process, which may be interesting. I’m the type that like to watch the craftsmen fashion glass ornaments or watch the men skillfully transform wood planks into furniture. I thought that going back several months before the opening would shed some light. Hardly anything happened in Quincy back in 1884. The cornerstone or the first shovel to dig the foundation ought to make first page, or at least someplace obvious. After fruitlessly browsing the microfilm for over an hour, I slowly realized that they don’t make spectacles of projects’ beginnings.

Back during the late nineteenth century, the Quincy Patriot would print the news from various villages in Quincy. The villages were Quincy Point, West Quincy, Wollaston, and the Atlantic. Everything about the chapel’s construction were buried somewhere inside the Atlantic News section. Usually, the Atlantic News consisted of only a few paragraphs. Often, the Quincy Patriot had no news from any of the villages for weeks. I started over and read every Atlantic News section starting from August of 1884. Success!

Reprints from the Quincy Patriot

Advertising of a Congregational Church Service on February 28, 1885 - possibly from the Atlantic church.

Congregational church – preaching at 10:30 AM and 7:00 PM. Sabbath school at 11:45 AM. Friday evening prayer meeting at 7:30 PM.

Saturday, August 9, 1884

We also hear that the congregational society have bought the elevated piece of land on the corner of Contest Avenue and Depot Street and are soon to erect a chapel on the same.

Saturday, October 11, 1884

The laborers are hard at work laying the underpinnings for the new church, and to all appearance, it looks as though Atlantic would have a church which it could point to with pride in the near future.

Saturday, November 8, 1884

Work on the cellar of the new church has seemingly progressed slowly this week.

Saturday, November 22, 1884

The underpinning for the church which has come to a stand still for some time since, is now nearly completed, and we understand the framework is being fast completed by Messrs. Davenport & Co., of Neponset.

Saturday, December 20, 1884

The frame of the new church has been erected this week and now shows the proportions of the edifice.

Saturday, January 3, 1885

The roof of the new church has been raised this week and the work is progressing more rapidly.

Saturday, January 10, 1885

It is rumored that Rev R.F. Gordon has accepted a call to go to South Boston. His parish here will be very sorry to lose him.

Saturday, January 31, 1885

The Rev R.F. Gordon is still to continue as pastor of the Atlantic Mission, although he closed his pastorate in Neponset last Sunday to accept a position in South Boston.

Saturday, February 28, 1885

The new church will probably be ready for dedication in April. It is the intention of the ladies to hold a fair there previous to then, we are informed.

Saturday, March 7, 1885

Plenty of mud.

The cupola and a vane have been placed upon the new church this week.

The new chapel is now so far finished on the outside as to assume a very pretty look, and is going to be an ornament to our little village, as well as something useful, and will fill a long felt want, as the inconveniences of the school-house to hold a church assembly has long been noticed.

Saturday, March 28, 1885

Names are being secured for an album quilt for the fair to be holden in the new church in April.

Saturday, April 4, 1885

The Congregational Chapel is approaching completion. The walls have been plastered.

Saturday, April 11, 1885

Gordon Chapel is suggested as a name for the new Congregational Chapel.

The Easter Services of the Atlantic Mission were conducted by the Sunday School last Sunday morning, and consisted of singing, speaking, etc. They were quite interesting. Rev. Mr. Gordon was unable to be present and his place was filled by a Boston Gentleman.

The annual parish meeting of the Congregational Society was held Wednesday evening, with Mr. E.R. Wade. W.S. Knowles was chosen moderator, and the following officers were elected: Secretary and Collector, C. Drew; Treasurer, E.G. Hall; Parish Committee, James Burr, C. Drew and Henry Hallett.

April 18, 1885

The carpenters expect to have the Congregational Chapel completed by next Saturday night.

The fair in aid of the new church will commence Tuesday, May 5th, and continue three or four days.

Saturday May 2, 1885

The fair of the Ladies’ Benevolent Society in aid of the new Congregational Chapel will take place next Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons and evenings, the doors being open from three to half-past ten. A supper and entertainment will be provided each evening. The ladies of the village have been actively engaged for a month or more in making fancy articles, and there will be a large array. A good time may be expected. Fuller particulars in our advertising columns.

Rev. F. L. Bristol, the new pastor of the Congregational Society is expected next week. He comes from East Tawas, Michigan. His society there adopted unanimously a set of resolutions, from which we copy the following clause.

"We reluctantly accept our pastor’s resignation and we would recommend him to aid people among whom he may in the future dwell, as an earnest, faithful minister of the gospel of Christ."

May 2, 1885 - Advertising Column

Fair at Atlantic

The Ladies’ Benevolent Society connected with the Congregational Society at Atlantic will give a fair and supper at the new chapel in their village on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, May 5, 6 and 7, 1885, Doors open from 3 to 10.30 P.M., An entertainment will be given each evening.

The following is the Committee of Arrangements: W. S. Knowles, C. Drew, E. G. Hall, W. Rogers, H. Hallett, Mrs. James Burr, Mrs. G. A. Waterhouse, Mrs. S. M. Bennett, Miss E. A. Knowles and Miss M. Burr.

The fair is in aid of the new Atlantic Congregational Chapel, and is worthy the patronage of all.

Supper served every evening from 5.30 to 8 P.M. Tickets 15 cts.

Single admission tickets, 10 cts.

Season tickets, 25 cts.

Tickets may be obtained of the committee and at the door.

Correction

2008-08-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

On my article about the Glovers, I mentioned that Nathaniel Glover had donated his land to the church. That’s incorrect and has been rectified. In according to the deed and the newspaper clippings, Benjamin F. Prescott of Neponset had sold the property to the church at half price. I deeply regret my error. I like my blog to be a critical and trustworthy resource for anybody interested in history, not sloppy propaganda, which is all too common. Accuracy is all-important.

2008-08-15T05:08:00.000-07:00

This Old Parsonage

With the decision of choosing the new pastor finished, the hard work in the transition began. The Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic owns two buildings – one where people gather for meetings and another where the pastor and his family live. Interim Pastor Wayne had moved to his new house, leaving behind an empty shell – perfect for the renovation projects the council had been dreaming for so many months. I’m a big fan of home improvement shows, especially the episodes when the husky men break out the sledgehammers to do demolition work. Good riddance to the grungy bathroom! That ugly wall cluttering the place is history! In fact, let’s flatten down everything and start fresh with a beautiful house rising from the foundation. That sounds like Revelation 21:1, "Then I saw a new heaven and earth. The old dimensions had been vaporized real good."

Unfortunately, time restraints limited the work to mostly cosmetic work. The volunteers won’t even have two weeks to do everything necessary to make the house presentable to the new occupants. Still, enough work was planned to make the project interesting. People tore off the wallpaper, while the guys patching the walls and the painters followed behind. Many jobs were small, but they were all important. Every home improvement project requires much time in cleaning. Volunteers cleaned the top of the fridge. One guy spent hours dusting the ceiling fan and the windowsills in the living room. A pile of derbies in the bathroom sink needed to be cleaned. A professional carpenter replaced the bathroom lights, but had to temporarily remove the medicine cabinet.

A crash shook the second floor. It sounded bad. It could be something major. It sounded like a man, using an old king-size bed as a platform for painting, had torn loose a plywood board supporting the mattress. The middle section of the mattress had collapsed about two feet, with the painter still standing on it. The Bible verse, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," comes to mind. Fortunately, he didn’t streak the freshly painted walls when startled. He quickly finished the room. The workers had wanted to break apart the bed to toss out. It looked like that project had gone ahead of schedule.

Days later, someone removed the bedroom windows. The bed was much too heavy and unwieldy to carry across several rooms and down the stairs. Too many freshly painted walls could get marred. A couple of men folded the mattress in half, shoved it out the window, and let it drop to the ground one story below, being careful to be sure that the area was clear. With the mattress in place, the kids excitedly counted down the moment the massive headboard would follow. "Four, three, two, ONE!" Nothing happened. They repeated the countdown. Finally, the guys above released the board. The mattress did no good in cushioning the fall. The board shattered as it bounced.

Some people say, "Many hands make light labor." Some may say, "Too many cooks spoil the meal." The project proved to be a good test in determining who were right. A number of volunteers were from the church council. Some were carpenters. Professional painters from
Malden had some extra time with nothing to do, so they volunteered their time to put the finish coat on the walls. They were lifesavers. On the final evening, the heavy work was finished and the project appeared to be a success. The Balla family has a decent place to call their home.

First Sunday with Pastor Francis Balla

2008-08-07T05:15:00.000-07:00

Sunday, August 3, 2008. Francis, walking into the church was greeted with signs on doors, walls, and a stage welcoming him, his wife and family to the church family. A large following of friends arrived. Some were from his college, Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. Most belong to the River Edge church of Malden, MA. He was a guest speaker and Bible study leader.

The entire worship team played together, sadly for the last time. David Facada, the drummer, had recently started his job and moved to Framingham. It’s a rather long commute to take every Sunday, especially with the ever-increasing bite that gasoline takes from the paychecks. David is joining another church closer to home.

After service, the church mingled in the fellowship hall for ice cream and watermelon. So many people! It’s comforting to see a pastor with a crowd of friends. An hour after service, the hall was still filled. I imagined that many thought about the future and wondered what the church will be like in a decade. Will it be as filled with enthusiasm? Francis does a lot of work on motivational speeches. He has decades ahead to try them out.

New Pastor

2008-08-02T10:01:00.000-07:00

Pastor Wayne Earl had to stay in the Boston area for at least two more years before leaving for France, so several members wondered why he couldn’t remain. Wayne felt that staying, as interim pastor, wouldn’t be healthy for a church. The congregation needs a sense of stability that only a permanent pastor can give. Once hired, the new pastor will lead the church to the appropriate road towards growth.

An interim pastor is ideal for holding down the fort while the committees hunt for the candidates, but he can’t stay forever. Waiting, and waiting for close to a year, while important projects remain shelved, is exasperating for the long-suffering council. New ministries need to be formed. The church’s bylaws need to be updated.

Off to a slow start, the nominating committee picked up the pace in searching for a new pastor. The perfect pastors are too expensive, so they’re scratched from the list. Obviously, the cheap and low quality ones were scratched from the list. Unless they can afford their own plane fare to commute back and forth for meetings, candidates must be close enough to drive to the church. Some candidates showed great promise, but they picked other churches.

Also scratched from the list are the ones who clash with the church’s culture. One such minister wanted to speak behind the pulpit. Hymns must be penned before the church’s elders were born. Anybody on the altar must wear formal robes. Good luck convincing the worship team to surrender their drums, guitars, and an electric bass for whatever instruments most appropriate for playing, "O thou Joyful, O thou Wonderful" and other stodgy songs. Getting any sort of dress code to work wouldn’t be any easier. A guy once wore an "I love animals, they taste delicious" T-shirt to service. Two council members wore blue jeans to their inauguration service. Both were reelected a year later. Not to worry. Their work is better than their dress.

One such candidate, Francis, spoke one Sunday and the audience felt happy with him. On Friday evening, June 13, 2008, the council met with Francis. On Saturday, June 14, 2008, the council again gathered together for questioning Francis and his wife, Wilma. The afternoon started with a tasty potluck lunch. Italian food was always popular during the church meals. The menu included meatballs, fruit salad, watermelon, and tuna fish salad. Silence descended as the formalities began. Somebody walked across the room with squeaky sneakers, briefly interrupting the atmosphere. A minute later, they settled down on their business in interviewing Francis. For hours he gracefully handled the tough grilling. Wilma also did fine. The anxious members left the meeting satisfied.

The next day, Francis spoke at the Sunday service one final time, before the vote. Afterwards the rest of the church formally questioned Francis. They too, left satisfied.

On Sunday, June 22, 2008 at noon, the all church meeting began. 25 members out of 28 showed up and voted. 23 voted "Yes." 2 voted "Nope." The church members voted to accept Francis Balla as their new senior pastor. On Sunday night, after the vote, Bill Glover called Francis to tell him the good news and he accepted. Francis is raring to get started.

With the uncertainty over with, Pastor Wayne Earl preached his final sermon on Sunday, July 27, 2008. It was a reiteration of his first sermon as pastor. The sermon was based on 2 Kings 13:14-19.

The Glovers

2008-07-28T05:12:00.000-07:00

Doing Research

Bill Glover, from the council, asked me to do some research on the Glover family. He felt interested in knowing more about the man’s history. Maybe Bill is related to him. Maybe one of his ancestors changed his last name in respect of the illustrious citizen. No matter. Since the Glovers used to own land where the Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic now sits, they deserve a good series of articles in this blog. They even have a street named after them in North Quincy - Glover Ave.

Starting was the hardest part of the research. All I have to go by is two names and dates. John Glover, in 1640, was the first of the Glovers to settle in Quincy. Nathaniel Glover, of 1885 was another name. Certainly, many more dates and people of interests will be recovered in time. The Internet, while wonderful for learning the latest programming language, has flaws. It’s incomplete. Not everything has been ported to the web. Most importantly, the Internet is poorly catalogued. Try searching for the Glovers and I’m liable to get two hundred pages of the Glovers who never had anything to do with Quincy.

Thomas Crane Public Library, located near Quincy Station, feels like the perfect base for researching. Its two connecting buildings are wonderful examples of old-style stone architecture. Its air-conditioned rooms are bright with cheerful sunshine. Only a few minutes commute by subway makes it an easy place to reach from my apartment. By the way, they have the best archive on the history of Quincy. Most of my newspaper reprints originated from there.

Anybody who’s rich enough to own prime land must have enough influence to make a mark in history. Carefully filed somewhere in the library should be typed words recording their family accomplishments. It’s a matter of knowing the best technique for finding the needles in a haystack. Sorting one straw at a time will do no good – too many decades in the way.

One nice benefit about libraries is that they always have helpful ladies to assist researchers – point them to the correct direction. She lent me two history books. The "Three Hundred Years of Quincy 1625 – 1925" has one brief mention on Edward Glover. The "History of Braintree and Quincy Mass 1878" has 72 entries on Glover in the index of names. The Quincy directory – 1884-1885 has 24 Glovers listed, none of them Nathaniel. Most were boot makers, masons, coachmen, and other low wage laborers. Apparently, the Glovers were a very popular name in Quincy. I saw nothing that resembles a family tree. Well, if it were easy, Bill would’ve already had everything he needed filed away long ago.

One of my readers came to the rescue. She has materials, lots of them. I’m uncertain if even the library has some books that she keeps in her collection. Ironically, she made my work much more difficult. The Glovers I spent days studying may have been distant relatives who had nothing to do with the church. Before the 1880s, many of the Glovers relocated to other towns. Her book, "Glover Memorials and Genealogies" has 601 pages, including the index. That’s far too much to put down on a blog. Typing it all would wear out my keyboard. Anyway, about 600 pages have little to do with the church history.

Eventually, I decided that having a complete genealogy would be beyond the scope of my blog. Instead, I’m planning to split it into two parts. Part I will be a short family tree. Part II will list the various achievements from the Glovers and their final resting-place.

Genealogy

John Glover

Mr. John Glover, member of the Rainhill Parish in Lancashire, England, was baptized on August 12, 1600. His birth date appeared to be lost. Twenty-five years later, he married Anna on 1625. Being a religious man and a Puritan, he and his wife sailed forth to the New World. The floating convoy, Mary and John, was their best hope in escaping the hungry grasp of the English king. They wanted a place to try out new ideas in leadership without worrying about having their work destroyed. A fresh start beckons the two shiploads of Puritans to sail to the western end of an ocean. They settled in Dorchester on 1630.

Ten years later, on 1640, John Gover had purchased a farm from Mr. Newbury. For a long time, it was called "The Newbury farm". Its northern edge was the southern side of the Neponset River. Its eastern edge was the low tide mark of the Boston Harbor. The western edge was to the Old Squantum road, which may be East Sqauntum Road today. The total size was about 400 acres. The exact boundaries are unclear and may not be accurate - they became lost to history. Within the borders was where the Memorial Church of Atlantic would be built 245 years later. The land was mostly salt marshes and sandy fields dotted with beach plants. Trees didn’t grow until many years later. John had kept himself busy in the New World, advancing up the career ladder. Eventually, be became a selectman.

On June 2, 1641, John Glover and Humphrey Atherton were in the committee tasked to design the layout of a new public highway linking Waymouth to Dorchester. It seemed to make perfect sense as John used to operate a ferry crossing the Neponset River. Eventually, a bridge was built and he continued earning money by collected tolls. The public wasn’t that thrilled with their labor. A heard of cows could do a better job marking the route. Another committee was quickly formed on October 7, 1641. The public rejected their awful plans. Somehow, the public forgave John Glover for his terrible road design and gave him another chance. Mr. Parker, John Glover, and Goodman Bates were appointed. People like to say, "Three times the charm." It didn’t work. The people regretted showing their mercy. Over seven years later, on December 25, 1648, the final committee successfully presented their road plans. Merry Christmas! The public accepted the layout. That was how Old Plymouth Road came into being.

Nathaniel Glover

Nathaniel was born on 1631, a scant year after his father, John, arrived to the New World. On 1652, he married Mary Smith from Dorchester. He inherited John Gover’s estate, which included the English style mansion on Commercial Street, Dorchester.

Some time later, Nathaniel passed his Dorchester estate to his son, Nathaniel Glover, Jr., and moved himself, his nephew, and his family to the Newbury Farm.

Miscellaneous

Roughly by the time Nathaniel Sr. took over Newbury Farm, it shrank to 30 acres. The Glovers were able to get a new grant. Their land soon stretched from the Neponset River to the Blue Hills, South Stoughton, West Foxboro, and Wrentham. A granite obelisk, with an iron ring used for securing the horses, marked the entrance. It’s located at the corner of where Webster Street and East Squantum Street are today.

As the generations passed by, the farm shrank as it was subdivided into lots. The family never worked the farm. Instead, they live in a house in the plot and rent the land out to the Billings.

Horatio Glover

When the North School district was organized in 1831, Mr. Horatio N. Glover was chosen to be on the Prudential Committee.

Horatio Nelson Glover’s eldest son, Horatio Nelson Glover Jr., was born in the Newcomb Farm, Quincy, on September 14, 1827. He lived a number of years in Dorchester as a merchant. He became one of the trustees of Newbury Farm and owned estate in Marshfield. Marrying Martha Turpin Hovey, they had three children. One, Horatio Nelson Glover, born December 23, 1862, became a trustee of the Memorial Church. His name is on the church’s deed.

The Glovers’ History

Military

Approximately 1774 and 1775, Col. John Glover commanded a famous marine regiment (The New England Historical and Genealogical Register 1883 V. 37.)

A company, part of Col. Benjamin Lincoln’s regiment and commanded by Capt. John Hall Jr., were assembled April 19^th and 29^th, 1775. Time of service was 7 days. Samuel K. Glover joined.

On June 13, 1776, during the war for independence, Jonathan Bass Regiment was assembled to expel the British ships from the Boston Harbor. Elisha Glover served the company of the North Precinct of Braintree, under the command of Captain Edmund Billings. The term of service was 5 days.

Ezra Glover was one of the Braintree men serving under Captain Abijah Bang’s Company, in Colonel Dyke’s Regiment on 1776.

Lewis Glover served under the Continental Army in 1780. He served for 6 months and 2 days.

At Salem, 1781, the 20 guns privateer Essex was fitted out and launched. Lewis Glover was one of the 10 people from Braintree who enlisted. They sailed to the coast of England and Ireland in hopes of seizing some rich loot. They hardly began patrolling the East Coast of Ireland, when they met the British ship, Queen Charlotte of 30 guns. Seeing that the opposing ship had ten more guns than they do, and roughly half of them pointing at their ship, they wisely surrendered. They were transported, shackled in irons, to a prison in Portsmoth, England. There, they endured the hardships in prison until their release in 1782.

For thirty days, between September and October of 1814, Josiah Glover and Elisha Glover served in the Captain Thomas Tirrell Company.

William S. Glover was one of seven in the company who marched to Boston Commons for general inspection and review. The inspection took place on September 13, 1845.

On 1855, the "Know-nothing organization called the "Guards of Liberty" formed the Handcock Light Guards. At first, the guards wished to be a completely independent company, but they have no way to do that legally. They decided to instead form the company under the military law of the state. After receiving the charter and regimented, the Handcock Light Guards was given Company H as its official letter and William S. Glover became one of the officers. Thanks to competent officers, they flourished as a highly respected and disciplined company. Company H was one of the firsts who responded to the government call at the start of the Civil War.

On 1861, Company H left to join the other companies at the battlefield. One month later, Nathaniel E. Glover, at the age of 25, enlisted as a recruit, and joined Company H in the South.

Nathaniel Glover and John Glover were in the roll call of Quincy Light infantry.

On 1863, the government called for a draft. 39 citizens from Taunton were drafted on July 17, 1863. William B. Glover was exempt because of disability.

The Founding of Quincy

Between January 31, 1728 and 1729, the people petitioned the government to make the north precinct of Braintree into an incorporated town of Quincy. The North Braintree residents included William Glover, Elisha Glover, and Nathaniel Glover. The Dorchester residents included Josiah Glover and Ebenezer Glover. The act to form Quincy was passed on February 22, 1792.

Railroad

John J. Glover and Robert B. Leuchars teamed up to incorporate the horse railroad in February 15, 1861. Their tracks started at the foot of Penn’s Hill and ended at Field’s Corner in Ward 24, Boston.

First Congregational Church

The First Congregational Church, in Quincy, had impressive members back before they converted to Unitarian. The first chapel was constructed in 1732. It was deconstructed in 1827 to build a larger building. Back at the time, members would purchase pews. The list of owners was recorded in 1827 and published in 1864. President John Adams was the owner of the coveted number one pew. President John Quincy Adams was the second owner in the family. John Quincy Adams’ eldest son, George Washington Adams, attorney of H.U., 1821, signed for him. Both John Adams and John Quincy Adams faithfully attended morning and afternoon services whenever they’re at home in Quincy.

Possibly mingling with such leaders are five members of the Glover family. Ezra Glover owned pew number 45. Edward Glover and Polly Glover each owned half of pew number 47. Horation Glover owned half of pew number 75. Nathaniel Glover and Thomas Adams each owned a quarter of pew number 75.

The Founding of "The Stone Bank", First Bank of Quincy

The population of Quincy was still small in 1836 with the number totaling only 2,200 residents. Inspired by the courageous pioneers who blazed new trails into the unknowns, a group of men gathered together to plan Quincy’s first bank. Bravely, they worked out the details and petitioned the Legislator for a charter to incorporate the bank, something never done before in Quincy. The charter along with a $100,000 capital was granted March 31, 1836 to Harvey Field, Thomas Taylor, Edward Glover, and their associates and successors. Once that was settled, the small group of men formed the bank’s first board of directors. Curiously, none of them were affluent. They were all highly respectable citizens though. Harvey Field became one of the members in the board. The first President and treasurer were chosen. The board members may not be rich, but they weren’t showy either. They chose a modest office space at the corner of Handcock and Saville Street. The second office, again modest, was located on the street floor of a small house on a corner. In 1856, 20 years after the bank had opened its doors, its capital increased 67 percent - from $100,000 to $150,000. In 1925, the Stone Bank total assets was over $7,000,000 – a success story.

The Glovers Buried at the Hancock Cemetery

All birth dates are approximate. They may be off by one year.

Mr. John Glover
– Born 1687, died July 6, 1768 at the age of 81

Mr. Thomas Glover, of Dorchester
– Born 1691, died June 16 1758 at the age of 67

Mrs. Mary Glover
– Born 1704, died December 19, 1775 at the age of 71
– Wife of Mr. John Glover.

Mrs. Elizabeth Glover
– Born 1704, died January 10, 1796 at the age of 92
– Widow of Mr. Thomas Glover.

Mr. Ezra Glover
– Born 1726, died January 1, 1792 at the age of 66

Mr. Josiah Glover
– Born 1726, died December 14, 1803 at the age of 77

William Glover
– Born 1731, died March 7, 1797 at the age of 66

Mr. Ebenezer Glover
– Born 1736, died December 25, 1807 at the age of 71

Mrs. Mary Glover
– Born 1738, died 1820 at the age of 82
– Wife of Josiah Glover.

Mrs. Elizabeth Glover
– Born 1739, died May 12, 1757 at the age of 18 years and 8 months
– Wife of Captain Elisha Glover
– Daughter of Thomas Glover of Dorchester

Mrs. Sarah Glover
– Born 1748, died January 8, 1783 at the age of 35
– Wife of Mr. Ebenezer Glover.

Mrs. Glover
– Born 1750, died November 11, 1813 at the age of 63
– Widow of Mr. William Glover.

Mr. William Glover
– Born 1750, died November 11, 1813 at the age of 63

Mrs. Mary Glover
– Born 1751, died June 7, 1833 at the age of 82
– Relict of Mr. Ebenezer Glover.

Mary Belcher
– Died November 2, 1754
– Daughter of Mr. John Glover of Dorchester

Mr. Benjamin Glover
– Born 1775, died March 21, 1815 at the age of 40

Polley Glover
– Born 1784, died December 12, 1800 at the age of 16
– Daughter of Mr. William and Mrs. Mary Glover.

Sarah Glover
– Born 1797, died May 28, 1808 at the age of 11
– Daughter of Mr. Nathaniel and Mrs. Ester Glover.

Eliza Glover
– Born 1813, died March 23, 1814 at the age of 11 months
– Daughter of Mr. Josiah and Mrs. Sophia J. Glover.

Mary D Glover
– Born 1815, died December 17, 1819 at the age of 4
– Daughter of Mr. Elisha and Mrs. Mary Glover.

Congratulations, School is Finished

2008-06-13T05:14:00.000-07:00

David Facada, the drummer of the Worship Team had graduated from the University of Massachusetts with a BA in Management Information Systems. He became the first of James and Linda’s seven children to receive a college diploma.

The celebration, on June 7, 2008, was an event to remember. Linda was the main organizer. Glenn set up the lights and sound. The Worship Team played live music for about a half-hour. Matthew Glover played the electric guitar. Johnny Ruiz played base. Johanna Facada played the keyboard. Of course, David’s the drummer. The rest of the people were responsible for feasting and having a good time. Sixty people filled the 9 tables dotting the large room. Both James and Linda’s family and extended family arrived. The church was also included as family. Current and former members shared stories. They mingled with friends and co-workers. Some women wore elegant dresses while some men had ties. Most kept themselves informal.

Two sets of stage lights bathed the room with blinking green, orange, red, white and blue colors. Four powerful speakers, with enough amps to vibrate the audience chests, played dance music. It wasn’t too loud. None of the stain glass windows fell out.

Night fell under heavy cloud cover, but the brutal temperature from the heat wave still gripped the neighborhood. People fanned themselves while gulping down sodas, tea, and juice. From time to time, the cool breeze, normally dwelling in the basement, wafted upstairs. Its welcomed, wintry touch brought brief respites to overheated skins. The pervious night was in the mid-fifties. The basement had stored up the cold spell of several nights, making it an excellent sanctuary from the heat wave for the next few days.

Everybody still enjoyed the night, whether it’s dancing or socializing. They stayed from seven through eleven to honor David’s accomplishment.

Yes, David’s degree was worth celebrating. Christians has a lot of respect for education. Scant six years after landing on Massachusetts, the Puritans founded Harvard College on 1636, well over a hundred years before their descendents finally got around to forming America as a sovereign nation. Solomon, considered by many as the wisest man on Earth, has a prominent place in the scriptures. Even though many members of The Evangelical Congregational Church of Atlantic have college education, they continue to search for more gems of wisdom. David will certainly do the same. Good hunting!

New $22,000 Granite Edifice to be Dedicated on Sunday

2008-04-19T11:36:00.000-07:00

Proud Addition to Quincy Churches

Several Memorial Windows to Well Known Atlantic People Held in High Esteem

Notable Day and Week for Atlantic Congregationalists

Reprinted from the Quincy Daily Ledger, Saturday, January 21, 1911

Atlantic new church will be dedicated tomorrow at 3 P.M. with special services also at 10:30 A.M. and 7 P.M. Quincy and other clergymen will assist as already announced in the Daily Ledger.

The new church home of the Memorial Congregational church of Atlantic is an imposing structure of the Gothic style architecture and is built of Quincy granite. It is located on the corner of Newbury Avenue and Sagamore street with the main entrance at the junction of the two streets. The main building is 92 by 48 feet. At the right of the main entrance is a chapel 22 by 20 feet, the floor of which is raised two steps above the main auditorium into which the chapel room can be thrown by sliding doors which separate the two rooms. Over the chapel is a gallery which is reached by stairways either side and which overlooks main auditorium.

The main church room is 50 by 36 feet, and the seating capacity of the gallery and auditorium is estimated at 350. The pulpit is located in the rear, and back of this is the choir loft and organ, these two being located in an apse which projects from the main body of the church.

On the right is the pastor’s entrance and lobby, which has a stairway leading to the basement where the Sunday School room is located. The roof of the edifice is framed with oaken trusses and the rafters which are of hard pine show in the interior. The space between the trusses and rafters being sheathed. The walls of the church are plastered to the line of the eaves, and the woodwork above is stained in colors that harmonize with the plaster work. The interior finish of the building is cypress and the pews are of oak, dark finish. The floor is of maple. The windows of the church are stained glass and are memorial windows of which mentioned will be made later.

While the entrance to the main building is approached from a level with Newbury avenue the grade of Sagamore street permits a full story out of ground with an entrance for the Sunday School from Sagamore street.

In this basement or lower story is located the Sunday School room 40 by 26 feet with a primary room 21 by 28 feet and a ladies’ parlor all of which can be thrown into one large room for social purposes. There is also in the basement, kitchen, pantry and cold storage room as well as the heating and ventilating apparatus, also toilet and clock rooms.

The ventilating system has been carefully planned and direct and indirect radiation admit warmed fresh air. The building is to be heated by steam and lighted by electricity.

The cost of the building is rising $22,000. The contractor was George E. Thomas and the architect Kendall, Taylor & Co. The building committee under whose direction the edifice has been erected were William F. Cummings, Charles A. Hall, Charles A. Hadlock, C. T. Letteney and William F. Buckley.

MANY MEMORIALS

The members of the Memorial Congregational church feel deeply gratified with the finished product of their labors. The Memorial Church has actually become a memorial in the true sense of the word, and the Sunday morning service will take the form of a dedication of the beautiful windows given in loving memory of the dead.

As one enters the church the first window to the left is a gift window presented by the Ladies Benevolent Society. The second window is one of beautiful floral design given by Charles Hall in memory of his father Charles Hall; his mother, Caroline J. Hall, and Mary R. Lee. The third window one of exquisite design, is dedicated to the Rev. Joseph L. Roberts, given by his daughter, Mrs. Adams.

The first window on the right is one of conventional pattern, presented by Miss Lulu Kolb, in memory of her father Jacob Kolb. Next to this is a beautifully designed window dedicated to Roger Henry Wilde, presented by friends, and adjacent to this is one in memory of his son, Adin Packard Wilde, the gift of his mother.

Above the choir loft a circular window reproducing Raphael’s "famous cherubs" has been placed by Mrs. Edgar Willey, dedicated to Horace and Marion Carver. An imposing window occupies the space directly behind the balcony, this is a gift-window presented by Mrs. Nellie F. Adams.

The smaller lights in the rear of the chapel have been given by Mrs. J. H. Anderson, the Sunday School, the Christian Endeavor, and the Girls Club.

GIFTS TO NEW CHURCH

In addition to the memorial windows the church has been fortunate in receiving a number of gifts in the way of interior decorations. Among these gifts are the following:

Mrs. Charles Letteney hymn board.

Communion cup receptacles, by Sunday School.

Carpet for aisles and pulpit, by Ladies Benevolent Society.

Mirror for ladies’ parlor by Mrs. Edward A. Burkhardt.

Wire door mats by Deacon Thomas H. Johnstone of Clinton, father of Mrs. Davison.

Fifty opera chairs by Mrs. Butler’s Sunday school class, and fifty by W. F. Cumming’s class.

The auditorium of the church is most artistic with its pews and wainscoting of weathered oak, richly contrasting with the creamy tints of the walls. The electrical fixtures of the wrought iron harmonizing with the decorative scheme.

Many Ministers Assist in Ceremony

2008-04-19T11:34:00.000-07:00

Many Ministers Assist in Ceremony

At Laying of Cornerstone for New $20,000 Memorial Church At Atlantic.

Proud Day for Church People of Ward Six

Reprinted from the Quincy Daily Ledger, June 27, 1910

The corner stone of the new Memorial Church at Atlantic was laid Sunday afternoon with impressive ceremonies in the presence of a large gathering of people. The afternoon was a warm one, and the sun shone brightly upon the gathering. The cool breeze, however, tempered the heat of the sun, so that it was not uncomfortable for those gathered about the lot. Rev. Thomas W. Davison, the pastor of the church had charge of the ceremonies, and it was a happy day for him to see the beginning of the new church that shall crown his labor with the people of the church. The cornerstone, a large block of Quincy granite, was set in the south-east corner, and the only distinguishing mark was the figures 1910 carved on the front.

The ceremonies of the laying of the corner stone were opened with a cornet solo by one of the blind boys from the Perkins’ house, Antonio Martone. With him was John Wetherell another blind boy from the home. The musical part of the program was under the direction of A. P. Briggs, and the organ and choir was located on a large wagon that had been backed onto the lot. The choir was composed of Mrs. A. P. Briggs, Miss Annie harding, Mrs. A. R. Hailley, Mrs. William F. Cummings and Miss Florence Hill sopranos; Miss Maud Read, Miss Margurite Read, Miss Doris Cummings and Miss Ouida Keay altos; George A. Deans and J. C. Ward tenors; W. R. Harding G. A. Sherwin and W. F. Cummings basses.

The opening hymn was "How firm a foundation" followed by the reading of the scriptures by Rev. William B. Ayers of the Park and Downs church, anthem by the choir, prayer by Rev. Edward A. Chase of the Wollaston congregational church, hymns "The church’s one foundation," offering, and anthem by the choir.

The pastor said that he had received a letter expressing regret from Rev. Edward Norton of Quincy, who was unable to be present.

Rev. Dr. Arthur Little of the Second Congregation church, Dorchester, said that 280 years ago a vessel sailed from England and landed at Sqauntum. That vessel brought 120 souls. The first thing they did after landing was to build a meeting house, which was also a stockade. This church served two purposes, one to worship God and the other as a defense against the Indians. Near that site of the first meeting house at Meeting House hill there has always been a church. This corner stone is a chip from Plymouth Rock; not literally however, but that it stands for the same things as does Plymouth Rock.

The glory of our New England history is its meeting houses, schools and training fields. These things have come down to us. We can do worse things than to heave too many meeting houses in one community. Atlantic is a large and expanding community. There is hardly a poorer thing to do than to organize a church and not give it a house to live in. the time to build a new church is when you have outgrown the old one and that is what you are doing. All of your church organizations will take on new life and have something to work for. This is a memorable occasion and I am sure you will never forget it. We congratulate you, and may God bless you until your house is completed.

Dr. Edwin N. Hardy of the Bethany Congregational church, Quincy, was glad to be present. The speaker has told of the splendid heritage of the past. He was not thinking of the old but of the new New England we are now making. He believed that it would be a good New England. When I see these children gathered about I believe it means better days to come. I believe the church has a new and bright future. He brought the congratulations of the churches of Quincy, and our best wishes for the future of you enterprise. The building of this church is from contributions of almost every family in Atlantic. This the speaker likened unto the building of the abbey when the stones were brought by the children. In closing Dr. Hardy wished the society splendid success in the building of its church.

Rev. Charles H. Washburn of the Neponset Congregational church said there were many reasons why he was glad to be present. Twenty-five years ago, while preaching in Brighton, he used to come here on picnics and have a good time. Looking back today to that time it seems marvelous how this community has grown. Atlantic is attracting the attention of builders. A corner stone means more than a piece of granite. It is what it stands for. Without this church your property would not be worth what it is today. We are to meet the problems before us with the same principles that underlie that corner stone. I congratulate you on having a living influence that enables you to lay that corner stone today.

The corner stone was then laid by the pastor, Rev. Thomas W. Davison, a silver trowel being used. Before doing so he referred to the report that some Boston papers had stated the church would cost $13,000, but there would not be enough left of $20,000 to go to Squantum on a picnic. Beneath the corner stone the pastor placed a copper box contributed by Mr. Moore. In the box were the following:

History of origin of the church and parish society.

Records showing the origin of the name of the church.

List of original and present church members.

List of pastors and deacons.

List of present church officers, parish officers and officers of the different societies.

Names of the president and president elect of the Ladies Benevolent society.

Names of building committee.

Records showing the origin of the new church.

Copies of the Quincy Daily Ledger and Boston Globe giving the account of the raising of funds for the new church. Also a copy of the Congregationalist.

Photographs of the old church.

Coins of the year 1910.

Order of services at the laying of the corner stone.

Following the laying of the corner stone the choir and audience sang the Doxology, and the exercises closed with benediction by the pastor.

Pictures From Fred Mac Donald

2008-04-19T11:23:00.000-07:00

In the caboose while riding a train at Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire.

Fred and Martha’s house

His 1931 Ford Model A sedan.

The Atkinson Congregational Church where he attends.

In Case You Wonder What Babies Do After Baptism

2008-04-05T11:58:00.000-07:00

Biography of Allister Fred Mac Donald

On May, 2005, Paul Sullivan, President of the Atkinson Lions Club, presented a small wooden plaque to Martha and Fred Mac Donald. The couple, married for 50 year at the time, graciously accepted their Citizens of the year award. In the seven years since the Atkinson Lions Club was founded, only one other couple had received the award. Their smiling faces appeared in the May 24, 2005 issue of the Carriage Towne News, and the April 11, 2005 issue of the New Hampshire Union Leader. They were honored at the Atkinson Community Center luncheon on May 15, 2005. All their children and grandchildren were present.

Fred, son of Frank and Mary B., was born on January 30, 1929, the exact year the Great Depression began with the stock market crash. Two years later, he was baptized at the Memorial Congregational Church on June 14, 1931. Rev. R. MacDonald was the minister who baptized him. He’s not related to Fred.

Tragedy struck when Fred was a nine year old boy. While his mother was still pregnant with his sister, his father died unexpectedly on 1938. A year later, she remarried and moved to Atkinson, New Hampshire. Life with his stepfather was painful. For 6 years, he endured the unpleasantness. He left home at the age of 16 to live with his friend’s grandmother. To pay for his room and board, which is $7.00 a week, he took a part time job paying $12.00 a week. A year later, 1946, he graduated from high school at a young age of 17, an impressive feat considering his tumultuous youth.

The small town of Atkinson may have no sidewalks or other luxuries that people of Quincy take for granted, but the citizens treated him pleasantly. He still lives in the same town today. Eventually, the New England Telephone hired him. In 1954, he married Martha, who arrived from Haverhill, Massachusetts the same year, and built their house, which they still occupied today.

Not long afterwards, Martha volunteered to take emergency phone calls from her house and contact the appropriate personnel for assistance. She was one of four people who had the Red Network phones, the equivalent of the 911 operation. Her most memorable call was about a fire down in Maple Avenue Field in Atkinson. She alerted her husband and four other volunteer firemen. Fred rushed to the field and greeted the other four volunteers. The fire was already a malevolent monster which had devoured a good-sized portion of the field. They stood near the roaring flames wondering when the fire truck will arrive. They waited and waited. As the fire grew in size, they realized that Martha had called five volunteers, and they all had been waiting futilely for a non-existent sixth fireman. The fire truck sat uselessly in an unoccupied garage. How were they going to put out the fire? Spit on it? Since that day, they made a rule that someone will always bring over the fire truck for every fire alarm. Fortunately, they somehow managed to put out the Maple Avenue Field fire before it had a chance to reach the woods or a house.

Since as newlyweds, both Fred and Martha had volunteered their free time serving their community. Fred kept himself busy in the Atkinson Congregational Church as a Deacon, trustee, and a Sunday school teacher. He had been attending the church ever since first arriving in New Hampshire as a boy. He’s a supervisor of the checklist and school district clerk. Often, he speaks at the Atkinson Academy. He belongs to the Haverhill Massachusetts Rotary Club where he served as President and had been made a Paul Harris Fellow a few years ago.

Martha contributions were as supervisor of the checklist for 35 years, volunteer with the Atkinson Historical society, and Auxiliary President of the Atkinson Fire Department.

The couples still managed to find extra time to raise three kids. They too married and had kids. In all, Fred and Martha have seven grandkids and two great grandkids.

They like to contribute quietly in making life in their home town pleasant. Jesus once preached on how the Pharisees would announce their contribution to the temples with obnoxiously loud horns. They love to be the center of attention. Jesus prefers the quiet people who give. That neatly fits Fred and Martha’s philosophy. Another one of their important philosophy is to not take life too seriously. Laugh along the way.

Fred stayed at the New England Telephone company until the government ordered its breakup many years later. After leaving, he started his own business selling and servicing office telephone systems. For 13 years, he stayed with his own company before retiring.

From 1989 through 2002, they hosted an annual antique car show where they displayed their Model-A Ford. The car was built at 1931, the same year Fred was baptized. They rebuilt it in 1985.

On January 24, 2008, Fred written and mailed to my church a short letter describing himself and enclosed a few Xeroxed copies of newspaper articles. Ruth and Dottie received the letter and gave it to me to post in the church bulletin. I’m thankful to see that Fred still remembers his first church after all these years.

Proud Day for Atlantic

2008-02-29T05:01:00.000-08:00

Large Audience at Dedication Services of the Memorial Congregational Church

Told Not to Think It a Little Too Good for Service

Reprinted from the Quincy Patriot, Monday, January 23, 1911

The opening service in the new Memorial Congregational church at Atlantic on Sunday morning at 10:30, was in commemoration of those for whom memorial windows have been placed in the church. It was marked by a large attendance which showed enthusiasm and satisfaction with all that has been accomplished. It was an interesting service with an able address, and a fine musical program.

The order of the service was:

Organ prelude, Miss Hazel C. Davison
Professional, "The church’s one foundation"
Exordum, Pastor and Congregation
Invocation and Lord’s Prayer
Chant, "O come let us sing"
Prayer in unison
Gloria
The Apostles’ Creed
Hymn, "Come Thou Almighty King"
Responsive reading, Psalm 19
Anthem
Offering and prayer
Doxology
Scripture reading, Rev. Seelye Bryant
Response by choir
Prayer by pastor
Hymn, "Hark, hark my soul"
Sermon, Rev. Seelye Bryant
Hymn, "Stand up for Jesus"
Benediction

Before the offering the pastor spoke briefly. He said it was not intended to ask any subscriptions, but he had been told that a dedication would not complete unless there was such an appeal. About $1,000 was needed to keep the mortgage down to $5,000 and cards would be passed at the same time the offering. A goodly sum was realized.

"Memorials" was the theme of Rev. Steelye Bryant, the young and talented pastor of Springfield, who is a personal friend of the pastor, and a son of Rev. Mr. Bryant who supplied the pulpit of Bethany Congregational church at the time of the resignation of Rev. Edward Norton.

The preacher did not announce his text until the end of his address. It was from 11th chapter of Hebrew, a part of verses 13 and 40 – "These all died in the faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them from afar." – "God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect."

He said it was those memorials of the past which speak an inspiration that we desire. Not only has the past contributed to the present but it is a part of the present. No man liveth to himself; no man dieth to himself; all are beneficiaries of the ages. Those of the past of this church longed to hear of this day. Their work is a part of your triumph. This building as good as it is, is not yours but for service. Mr. Bryant emphasized the fact that it should not be considered too good; that boys and girls were worth more than carpets, and that souls were worth more than a little paint and oil.

Memorial windows are placed in the church in memory of Charles H. Hall, Aroline J. Hall and Mary R. Lee, by Mrs. George W. Hight, Jr., Percival A. and Charles A. Hall, in memory of their parents and of their life-long friend, Mary R. Lee. For Rev. Joseph L. Roberts, by his wife, Mrs. Frances E. Roberts. For Adin Packard Wilde, by his mother Mrs. R. H. Wilde. For Roger H. Wilde, by his friends. For Jacob Kolb, by his daughter, Miss Louise S. Kolb. For Horace W. Carver and Marion P. Carver, by their aunts, Mrs. E. E. Willey and Mrs. W. S. O’Brien.

The choir of the church is under the direction of Albert P. Briggs of Cambridge, and appeared for the first time in vestment. The ladies of the choir had made their own cassocks of black and cotters of white, which were very becoming. At the opening of the service they entered from the rear of the church near the main entrance. The members are:

Sopranos – Miss Annie Harding, Mrs. W. F. Cummings, Mrs. Earnest I. Newcomb, Mrs. W. A. Hartley and Miss Grace DeWolfe.

Altos – Miss Maude Read, Mrs. Albert H. Hall, Miss Florence Hill and Mrs. Jean Arthur.

Tenors – George Deans and John Ward.

Basses – William Harding, Kenneth Blake and Malcolm Blake.

Organist – Miss Hazel C. Davison.

SUNDAY SCHOOL ROOM.

The Sunday School rooms in the basement are wholly above ground, and very attractive and well lighted.

The rooms of the primary department and kindergarten open into the main room by folding doors. The rooms were dedicated at 12 M. with special responsive readings, remarks by officers and others. The attendance of children was very large.

CHURCH DEDICATION.

Although the new church has a seating capability of 350 it was not large enough to accommodate the number who desire to attend the dedicatory exercises that were held Sunday afternoon beginning at 3 o’clock. Every seat was taken and in addition to this many chairs were placed in every available space. The exercises of the afternoon opened with an organ prelude and processional and responsive service by Rev. Charles H. Wasburn of Neponset and congregation and invocation by Rev. G. H. Flint of Dorchester, and anthem by the chorus.

Rev. Dr. Edwin N. Hardy of the Bethany church was then introduced by the pastor, as one who had given him much good advice in the erection of the new church, and the one who a year ago had said to him the time is ripe for the new church.

Dr. Hardy said it was a great pleasure to be present because he had been privileged to be intimately connected with the work you have been doing here. It seems but a short time since the Congregational Union Committee met with your building committee to see what was best to be done. We debated long and earnestly and finally the idea was impressed upon us that nothing short of the best would do. Turning to Rev. Mr. Davison, the pastor, Dr. Hardy said we can congratulate you sir, the general who has accomplished this work. You have been extremely fortunate in your leader and officers, for no general can do good work without good help. This building stands as a memorial of splendid leadership and conception. As a gift of these people who will be proud of it as the years go by. Because of this church, property will be worth more here. Homes will be better and the schools better. Every interest and institution will have some advantage accruing to it because of this church. It was splendid to have such an addition to a community. He brought his own and his peoples greetings, and congratulated the church on its splendid achievement.

Samuel Usher of Boston was introduced, representing the Congregational Union which has stood by the work of the building of the new church. Mr. Usher brought the congratulations of the union. The union was not a company of Congregational ministers but rather of churches who by delegates represented the work of the interest of the Congregational churches. It means a union of corporation full of inspiration and promise. Thirty years ago churches would be advised to provide a place of worship with a burden of debt that nearly sapped its life. Today it is with the corporation of brethern that we get advice. He believed that better results were obtained in this way. The union has taken great satisfaction in the way this work has progressed. It seemed fitting that the beginning of your life anew that there is something full of promise. I wish you God speed in the work you contemplated. Do not stop until you have completed your task, and if it become burdensome do not fail to let us know of it.

At this point Miss Alice Gertrude Coe of Atlantic sang a solo, after which the pastor said that it was fitting at this time that the people should be given a financial statement. He said that there was now due on the building $5,425. Of this amount $2,500 was yet to be received. The church needed $2,925 which he hoped to raise soon. During the past week the men of the church had raised $300 and he had set himself the task of raising $1,400 in all before he slept tonight.

Mr. Usher then made an appeal for funds after which pledge cards were distributed which were collected later in the afternoon. As a result of these pledge cards something like $200 was pledged.

The sermon of the afternoon was preached by Rev. W. W. Jordan, D. D. of Clinton, who was introduced as the one who had first led the pastor into the church and into the ministry.

Dr. Jordan expressed great pleasure at being present at this happy occasion. He could go back to the time their pastor entered into the kingdom. It was a rare thing to find a minister of such absolute sincerity and devotion to the interest of his people as he who is your leader. I congratulate you on having him as your pastor and he on having you for his people.

Dr. Jordan took for his text the words found in the 17th verse of the 28th chapter of Genesis. "There is none other but the house of God." There is a significance to a church of God which makes me rejoice in the dedication of every new church. It is God’s house and he called it the new Bethel. The church holds a unique place among all houses as God’s house. Clothed with sacredness and significance as it is set apart for divine worship. Let the church ever be to you none other than the house of God. As God’s house the church is the scene of expression and influence in the life of man. Here the walls will resound with prayer and worship. We will here have communion through which we see the vision of God. Here men will come with sorrow and care and depart with rest and freedom. Here children will come. The young wedded and the old buried. Every scene in life is represented in the house of God. Every church of God is not only a meeting place but a power house from which religious influence goes forth into the world. Study the words that the church exists for those who never enter it. May it ever be the place to continuously learn of the love of God. That here men may be helped to the righteousness of life. My message of the church shall be of such inspiration that men shall continue to go to it out of service to him.

Let your light so shine that your good works shall glorify not only you but your Father’s house. Let it carry blessing to this community. It is the privilege of the church to be the center of activity that uplifts all around it. We know the lives lived for God are the most vital contribution to the upbuilding of a community. Every church is a concentrated force and all citizens must in a degree share its benefits, yet many never recognize it by their support or attendance. The church is a part of a great kingdom that is spreading throughout the world, the work of uplifting men to Jesus Christ. The church today has a clearer vision of her mission than ever before. It addresses itself to the great tasks in the world. It is not true that we are all in the world to give a little push toward God, that we may be saved. This is the mission of the church that shall live in the world. So I am glad to bring you the congratulation of the church from which I come. From which your pastor first entered the church of Christ and bid you God speed.

The sermon was followed by another solos by Miss Coe, after which William F. Cummings, chairman of the building committee, formally turned the keys of the new edifice over to E. E. Willey, chairman of the board of trustees.

Then came the service of dedication by the pastor and people, after which the prayer of dedication was made by Rev. Edward Norton.

The service closed with the singing of a hymn written for the occasion by Mrs. Hattie E. Baker, and benediction by the pastor.

There was another largely attended service Sunday evening the sermon being preached by Rev. F. E. Emrich, D. D. of Boston.

The services for the balance of the week are as follows:

Monday evening, January 23, at 7:45 – Reception and inspection of building; Greeting from pastors of Quincy; address by Rev. Asher Anderson secretary of National Council of Congregational churches.

Tuesday evening, January 24, at 7:45 – Young People’s service, conducted by the eY. P. C. E. addresses by representatives of Union.

Thursday evening, January 26, at 6:30 – Dedication banquet by the Ladies’ Benevolent Society, Mrs. Isabel S. Smith chairman; addresses by local speakers.

Friday evening, January 27, at 7:45 – First prayer meeting in church. Addresses by pastor, deacons and others of church.

The tickets for the banquet Thursday evening have been plated at 75 cents each and the number is limited to 200. It will be necessary to secure them in advance.

Harvest Party

2007-12-08T13:16:00.000-08:00

October 31, 2007

The party was a success with over 40 children attending. Many people from the church helped set up and run the games. The entire stage area had a miniature golf course set up. Stacked soda cans, old 5 inch hard disk machines, and rocks made up the obstacles. Other popular games included tick-tack-toe, where the kids try to toss beanbags to get three in a row; sand-filled plastic cups stacked in a pyramid for the can wham; coin toss; and beanbag toss board with three holes. A woman, dressed in a monkey suit challenged kids to draw pictures while blindfolded. A ring toss game was popular with the young adults. Kids enjoyed a fiendishly difficult game of moving a metal hoop along a curvy copper pipe without touching it.

After an hour of activities, people gathered together for a game of moving the hula-hoops around two rings of people with hands linked together. The task at first seemed impossible, but they somehow managed to succeed. Next game. People were amazed seeing how many balloons that could be stuffed underneath the baggy T shirts of the two young men. The winner had about two dozens balloons.

Pastor Wayne Earl closed with a short sermon. Unfortunately, his props were somewhere in France, but he still gave a nice little speech.

2007-10-22T05:12:00.000-07:00

[No Title]

Reprinted from the Quincy Patriot, Saturday, March 3, 1900

The young people of Atlantic held a picnic social in Memorial Congregational Church Wednesday evening. Sandwiches, cake, and chocolate were served, and many new games introduced.

---

The annual parish meeting of the Memorial Congregational Church, Atlantic, comes next Tuesday evening, March 6, at 8 o’clock. The general public is cordially invited to be present. Good music will be furnished, and refreshments served without charge. It is hoped a large number will be interested in this meeting.

Parish Meeting

Reprinted from the Quincy Patriot, Saturday, March 10, 1900

On Tuesday evening, notwithstanding the exceedingly forbidding weather there were about a hundred present at the annual parish meeting of the Atlantic Memorial Congregational church.

The meeting was called to order by the president, Mr. William F. Cummings. The various reports of the activities and organizations connected with the church were very gratifying showing great gain in every department.

Mr. Theodore Parker gave the collector’s report. Mr. George Todd, the treasurer’s report; Mr. Charles Hall the trustee’s report; Dr. Maria Drew, the secretary’s report; Mr. Walter F. Black, the Sunday School superintendent’s report; Mrs. Charles Coe, the report of the Ladies’ Benevolent society; Mrs. Edward Crocker, the Y.P.S.C.E’s report; Mrs. Roger Wilde, the Calling Committee’s report; Mrs. Bemis, the report of the "Mothers’ Meeting; and Mrs. W. N. Ware, that of the Children’s Christian Union.

The following officers were elected for the ensuring year:

President, - Mr. Charles Cherrington.

Clerk, - Miss Lillian Waterhouse.

Treasurer, - Mr. George E. Todd.

Collector, - Mr. Theodore Parker.

Trustee for three years, - Dr. Maria E. Drew, making the board of trustees consist of Mr. Roger H. Wilde, for two years, Mr. Charles Hall, for one year, and Dr. Maria E. Drew for three years.

After the business meeting a collection of sandwiches, coffee, ice cream and cake was served, the waiters being young ladies and young gentlemen from the Sunday School.

Following the collation a fine musical entertainment was presented. Miss Adelaide Thomas played two selections on the violin beside responding to an encore, being accompanied at the piano by Miss Otis. The members of the church choir entertained vocally with several choice numbers.

The finances of the church by the treasurer’s report showed a balance in the treasurer’s report of two hundred and sixty-six dollars.

[No Title]

Reprinted from the Quincy Patriot, Saturday, July 25, 1885

Subject of discourse at the Congregational Chapel next Sabbath morning, "Man, God’s image;" evening subject, "The Serpent among the Books."

At a meeting called at the chapel on Wednesday evening, for the purpose of considering the matter of organizing a Congregational church, twenty six names were presented of those who wish to join such a movement. A committee was chosen to make arrangements and call a council at an early date, so that there is a prospect of a Congregational Church in Atlantic.

[No Title]

Reprinted from the Quincy Patriot, Saturday, August 1, 1885

It has been decided to organize a Congregational Church at Atlantic, by council, about the middle of September. Rev. F. L. Bristol having received and accepted an invitation to become installed as Pastor, the installation Service will take place at the same time.

The subject of Rev. Mr. Bristol’s morning sermon next Sunday will be "Common-sense in Religion." Evening subject, "Hypocrisy an Evidence of Christianity."

---

The Sunday School of Atlantic held their annual picnic on Tuesday, at Hayward’s Grove. About one hundred and thirty met at Gurney’s store and were conveyed to the grove in four fine barges. An accident, which might have proved serious, happened to one of the barges when near Wollaston, and caused a half hour’s delay. The day, though dull, proved not unpleasant and boating, swinging, and games kept all busy. In returning through Quincy village, Mr. Henry H. Faxon was noticed on the sidewalk, and all united in heartily cheering him, to express their thanks for his gift to assist in defraying the expenses of the day.

Church Organized at Atlantic

2007-09-27T04:57:00.001-07:00

Church Organized at Atlantic

Reprinted from the Quincy Patriot, September 26, 1885

Rev. F. L. Bristol Installed as Pastor

Pursuant to letters missive issued by Rev. F. L. Bristol, Edmund R. Wade and Jacob Kolb, a committee of Christian believers in the village of Atlantic, an Ecclesiastical Council met at Memorial Church in said place, on the afternoon of Wednesday, to consider the action of said believers and advice in reference to their association as a Congregational Church of Christ, and if deemed expedient to assist in the formation and recognition of a Congregational Church; also, to consider the request that Rev. F. L. Bristol should become the installed pastor of the proposed church; to review the proceedings of those making the request, examine the candidate and if deemed expedient to proceed in the exercise appropriate thereto.

The letter missive was read by Rev. W. B. Wright of the Berkley street Church, Boston. Rev. E. N. Packard of Dorchester was elected Moderator, and Rev. B. B. Sherman of Wollaston, scribe. Organization was completed by the response at the roll-call of a quorum of delegates. The following churches convened with the following delegates:

Berkeley Street of Boston, Rev W. B. Wright, pastor, and B. F. Dewing, delegate; Second Congregational of Dorchestor, Rev E. N. Packard, pastor; Congregational of Wollaston, Rev. B. B. Sherman, pastor, and A. W. Sprague, delegate; Evangelical of Quincy, Rev. Edward Norton, pastor, H. Walter Gray, delegate; Trinity of Neponset, Rev. J. L. Harris pastor, Dea. Tuttle, delegate; Congregational of Walpole, Rev. F. J. Marsh, pastor; Phillips of South Boston, Rev. F. E. Clark, pastor, E. W. Winslow, delegate; Park Street of Boston, Dr. J. L. Whitman, pastor, Rev. D. H. Brewer, delegate; Porter of Brockton, H. Wade, delegate; and the following individuals; Rev. Joshua Cort and Rev. R. F. Gordon, both of Boston.

Prayer was offered by the moderator. The council heard the statements of the pastor concerning steps preliminary to the formation of a Congregational Church, also the reading in full of the Creed and Covenant subscribed by those who desired the organization ratified by the council in session. The pastor read the proceedings taken for legal incorporation of the church, with the by-laws and standing rules of the organization. A sub-committee of three was appointed by the moderator to examine the church Creed and Covenant with the credentials of members. Upon report of the same, it was unanimously voted that the council cordially recognize the Memorial Church of Atlantic as a sister church of the order. Also voted, that the council recommend provision be made in standing rules, that at a written request of five members of the church, a business meeting shall be called.

Upon call for records in reference to the invitation to Mr. Bristol to become pastor, the candidate read the vote of the meeting, the formal letter of invitation and his reply. It was voted that the records be considered satisfactory. The church letter accepting the dissolution of Mr. Bristol’s former pastoral connection with the ratification of the ecclesiastical council called to advise thereon was read by the scribe and accepted by the council. After hearing the personal experience and examination had of his theological beliefs, the council voted to be by itself.

In private session it was resolved that the examination be considered satisfactory.

A committee of three and the pastor completed the programme for the evening’s exercises.

At seven o’clock the services of organization and installation took place. The scribe read the minutes of the afternoon; Rev. B. B. Sherman read the Scripture and offer the invocation; Rev. J. L. Withrow, D. D., delivered a spirited sermon; the confession and covenant were read by Rev. Joshua Coit; Rev J. L. Harris offered the prayer of recognition; Rev. Edward Norton extended the right hand of fellowship to the church; the installing prayer was by Rev. E. N. Packard; the address to the pastor by Rev. F. E. Clark; and Rev. F. J. Marsh extended the right hand of fellowship to the pastor; Rev. R. F. Gordon, a former minister in the village, addressed the church; communion prayer, the doxology and the benediction, all interspersed with singing, concluded the services.

The church starts out with a membership of thirty-one, which includes many of the leading residents of North Quincy, as will be seen below:

John A. Billings, Miss Mary Billings, Frank L. Bristol, Mrs. Annie C. Bristol, Loring D. Brown, Mrs. Hattie A. Brown, Mrs. Lizzie A Burr, Mrs. Elizabeth L. Davis, Miss Mary H. Emery, Francis M. Foster, Mrs. Eunice G. Foster, Miss J. Lizzie Glover, Charles H. Hall, Mrs. Aroline J. Hall, Percy A. Hall, George W. Hill, Mrs. Ella F. Hill, Frank Jenkins, Mrs. Lilla Jenkins, Mrs. Catherine P. Knowles, Miss Emma A. Knowles, Jacob Kobb, Mrs. J Knobb, Miss C. C. Nelson, Edwin A. Richardson, Mrs. Louise J. Richardson, Mrs. C. E. Swett, Edmund R. Wade, Mrs. Mary L. Wade, Elliot H. Wood, Mrs. Mary A. Wood.

Interim Pastor

2007-09-27T04:54:00.000-07:00

On August 19, 2007 Wayne Earl, the second Sunday’s guest speaker since Bill’s last service, gave his sermon for the first time at church. The entire congregation liked him. Scant minutes after the end of service, the board unanimously voted to bring him aboard as interim pastor. May he continue in the tradition in bringing healing to the hurting world.

Pastor Bill Donahue

2007-09-15T09:47:00.000-07:00

Pastor Bill Donahue

Sunday morning, June 3, 2007 10:20AM, started out as a cold, dark, cloudy, and gloomy day to match the mood in the Green Room. Normally used for Sunday School before Service, they finished early to let the Church Council meet there. Made sense since the Sunday School leader and most of the people attending it are in the Council Board. In spite of the meeting being a surprised, most showed up. The news had stunned the audience. Effective immediately, Pastor Bill was resigning. He had accepted the offer to pastor another church. He strongly emphasized that he wasn’t actively seeking another pastorate. That’s not his personality, he had said. He’s not the type who frets about his future. He prefers to let God take care of his life’s details. God has planned a special path for each and every person to follow. God has proven that to Bill many times. On April, the superintendent from Manchester Foursquare Church in New Hampshire asked him to be their minister. His offer came to Pastor Bill and his wife, Daisy, out of the blue. Pastor Bill believes that this is God leading – one of many he experienced. He promised the church his earnest prayers and thoughts. May God revitalize the church during the difficult transitional period. He scheduled his last Sunday preaching to be August 5, 2007. Afterwards, he’ll pack up for his move to Bedford, NH.

Again, Pastor Bill made the announcement at the end of church service, after Communion. The announcement was now public. Minutes after people gathered in the church hall to munch on pastries, the rain started pouring outside. It heralded the end of an era. A lot of sad faces were in that room. Many knew Bill for years, some for decades. Pastor Bill had been ministering in Quincy since 1981, after he graduated from Valley Forge Christian College in PA where he studied for the ministry.

How it Began

"You are better than that Willie", the beefy man said to the scared teenager. Back during the 1970s, the man owned Ronnie’s, a small sub shop in Hough’s Neck a community within in Quincy. Ronnie’s shop was often busy with cheerful sounds of dinging pinball machine and hungry customers enjoying their meals. The owner of this store tried hard to befriend the community’s youth. He let them hang out in his shop as long as they wanted. If they needed someone to talk to, he’s always available. One morning, he arrived to his store and discovered just how thankless they were to his hospitality. Some of the youths he befriended had broken into his store through an opened window and helped themselves to a few gallons of ice cream. Their "little" prank turned serious when burglars with more sinister intentions also noticed the opened window and stole Ronnie’s hard-earned cash. Ronnie hunted down one culprit and confronted him. In a fight, Ronnie, who was muscular, could probably make an adult man squeak like a dog’s squeeze toy. Willie was not an adult. He hadn’t even yet reached the size of an average 17-year-old. Willie won’t get any help from his friends. He sat alone on the steps outside the roller skating rink in Hough’s Neck. He had to face the man whose kindness was trampled upon.

As the man approached him, Willie was struck with fear for his future. The only male figure he had was his dad who succumbed to the serenading voice of alcohol addiction. Willie was only 11 when his dad died of drinking and already he was following in his tottering footsteps. Ronnie sat his husky body besides him, making sure that he won’t run away. Ronnie knew that Willie needed someone who believed in him, someone who would not pulverized him. He said, "I know it was you! Don’t deny it. You are better than this." Willie didn’t deny it; he said nothing. He just sat and listened with guilt written all over his face. He expected permanent disfigurement from bone-crushing fists; after all he was the ringleader in the theft and deserved what punishment was coming to him. Instead he had gotten a powerful validation, which affected him for the rest of his life. 35 years later, Willie became Pastor Bill, father, grandfather and a role model to many people in the City of Quincy. Still, he remembers that day vividly. Somebody showed him faith that he could rise above the dismal prospect of a rough kid from Hough’s Neck. From that point on his quest for something better than drugs and alcohol began to stir within him. Because of one man’s high expectation of Willie, he felt that his life’s purpose must be more than to stupefy his mind with chemicals.

Later, on the same year the storeowner confronted him, Willie went out with his friend for a quick smoke during high school lunch. He was studying to be a sheet metal mechanic at the Quincy Vocational Technology School. While they stood on the top step, an older guy below them was talking with a group of teens. The clean-cut young man obviously wasn’t from his high school. Maybe he was a college student, home during the spring break. He tried to convince the teenagers that wholeheartedly following Christ is the better way to live their lives. The crowd responded by making fun of him. They spit on him, knocked his bible to the ground and kicked it around like a hockey puck. Willie never made eye contact with the persecuted man, but he hung on every word he spoke. The tenacious way the youthful missionary stood his ground spoke volumes about his faith; a life transforming faith; powers beyond Quincy; beyond Earth; something he hadn’t seen before. Again this made an impact upon his life.

Although the two events left a lasting impression, Willie still partied with his peers for the next few years. Like most other teens during the Seventies, he continued abusing drugs and alcohol. But lately, he couldn’t immerse himself so easily in the "fun". More frequently, questions popped up. "What’s all this about? What’s my life purpose?" After finishing high school in 1974 he realized at last the reason for the many enigmatic encounters of real people living out their faith. Like the shepherd willing to travel to the ends of the earth to find the lost sheep, God was seeking him out. On July 4, 1974, Willie went with his mother and family to a camp in Charlton, MA. He wanted to dry out from the abuse that he was doing to his body and soul. The 1970s revival meeting, organized by Glad Tidings Church, seemed like the best way. On that festive Independence Day, he committed his life to God.

Willie made his commitment, but at first, had no interest in seeking out Gods help. But God had another plan. "’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’" (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV Bible). That was God’s plan for the kid from Hough’s Neck. He eventually did ask for God’s help and succeeded because someone spoke faith into his life, the kind of faith that continues to change lives. At the age of 18, his life took on a new meaning. It was no longer about getting high, living for the moment or hurting others. It was about fulfilling his purpose, which God had meticulously planned before he breathed his first breath - do good works, worshiping God, walk with God, and work for God. So, he set his sights upon that high calling.

Bible College

Bill and Daisy were recently married and Daisy was expecting their first child. One particular Sunday, Bill announced to Daisy that God is urging him to take a leap of faith. God wants him to take his Christian walk to the next step - entering into the ministry.

Daisy asked him "How are we going to pay for all this? What are you thinking? That God is just going to drop money into our mailbox?" She had excellent reasons for her misgivings. The American Dream isn’t easy to catch when the breadwinner quit a well paying job as a sheet metal mechanic to go to Bible College. With college expenses, a future career that has dismal financial prospect, car payments, a child to support, and rent, they could easily tumble into the American Nightmare.

Bill answered, "Hmm, I didn’t check the mail today." He stepped outside and opened the mailbox. It was empty, of course. Not even junk mail waited inside. The mailman doesn’t work the streets on Sundays. It broke the tension. Bill felt that his action pointed to Daisy the way to excise real faith. God can make a way when the path seems obstructed. Bill never received any money during that fateful Sunday. Still, while attending Valley Forge Christian College in Pennsylvania, God had kept him out of various crises. At church, someone pledged to finish the rest of the payments for his brand new car. While in college, he found a job driving a school bus. It worked out well. He could study with a clear mind and still have time with his family.

The Bible mentioned over 7,600 promises. Bill believes that the 7,600 promises are to bring good. Bill had experienced some of them first-hand, because of people that spoke faith to him on the steps outside the roller skating rink in Hough’s Neck and on his high school steps. One of the nicest promise is in Malachi 3:10 when God stated, "Test me." He challenged Israelites to give their offerings to His temple, and He’ll pour out a tremendous flood of blessings. Several church members of high standings know that verse.

Early Ministry

While Bill studied in college, he worked at Bible camp. To better introduce faith into the lives of teenagers, Bill wanted to have communion. Wine is out of the question because they were minors, and he couldn’t find any grape juice. Grape soda and cookies seemed at the time to be a good compromise. That’s all they could find. When the church leaders heard of what he did, they freaked out seeing such a holy sacrament being defiled by cheap paper cups filled with artificial flavored soda and cookies. Only the pious people occupying the most special place in the church were allowed to give communion, Bill was told. Sometimes, the religious people could be much too stern and inflexible in their traditions. Bill always believe that Christianity is not about religion, nor is it about traditions. He feels that it’s all about relationships - loving God and loving one another. If you can fulfill those two things then you’ve done it all.

After graduating from Bible College, Bill returned to Quincy in 1981 and founded the Warriors of the Cross youth group in Hough’s Neck. He counted the death of 26 friends from drug and alcohol addiction. The troubled teens in the community sorely needed a pastor for help. On that same year, he reconnected with an old friend, John Sullivan who also committed his life to God. The two of them worked the streets of their hometown, speaking about life-changing faith to anyone who would hear them out. The two young men showed themselves as examples of the transforming power of God. They told their listeners how God personally snapped their hardened-steel chains of drugs and alcohol. John Sullivan (Sully), like Bill, eventually became a pastor. He’s currently ministering in Walpole, Massachusetts. The two of them are still good friends. From 1981 through 1993, Bill was the youth pastor at Glad Tidings Church in Quincy. His youth program, which was named Outreach, was similar to his Warriors of the Cross.

Present Ministry

During the celebration of Jesus’ birth, one Christmas Day on 1994, Bill founded a Four Square Church, The Lord’s Planting. For a while, The Lord’s Planting rented space from the Memorial Congregational Church of Atlantic. The Congregational Church, located in North Quincy, has an unbroken history stretching back from 1877.

In 2002, both churches merged, and formally renamed to "The Evangelical Church of Atlantic". After twenty-six years of being faithful in speaking about God’s promises, Pastor Bill decided to relocate from Quincy to Bedford, New Hampshire. Even though he will pastor a new church, he promised to continue preaching the same message to those who need faith spoken to them. His last Sunday Service in Quincy was August 5, 2007. The city will miss Willie. Thanks for the years of service here in Quincy.

Life in Quincy During the 1885 Dedication Service

2007-07-09T05:02:00.000-07:00

Nine years had passed since America had celebrated its first century as a nation. Eleven years since the nice ladies had founded the church. Memorial Day, dear to the hearts of veterans, was approaching quickly. "Again has the day which is hallowed to the brave defenders of the union been commemorated throughout the country, and never were the ceremonies more universal or extensive. In Quincy many of the places of business were closed the entire day" (Quincy Patriot, May 30, 1885). Already, a committee was formed to organize a loud and explosive Fourth of July celebration. That event would be depended entirely upon the citizens’ generosity.

As the people, wearing their Sunday’s best, crowded into the small church building, they have good reason to cheer. The new chapel was a resounding victory. The high quality real estate and construction consumed vast amount of money. All too many people have few coins to spare. A number of Quincy residences were day laborers. After spending their weekly paychecks to support their wives and children in comfort, they had little extra for luxuries. If the town’s councilmen tried to raise taxes to build nice wide sidewalk with edgestone, public squares and parks, the day laborers would howl in protest. The church committee being able to convince the vast majority of the village’s families to give is simply amazing.

Still they couldn’t possibly donate enough. A good capable girl earning $3.00 per week doing general housework would require about 1166 weeks just to pay for the chapel. That’s roughly 22 years, which is a little too much, especially when the church had less than 50 members to spread the cost. Then, there’s the small issue of the pastor’s paycheck. Fortunately, the women union, which was made up of women clubs, paid Pastor Gordon and other ministers during the late 19^th century. The wealthy Congregationalists, whom Mr. Gordon solicited in Boston and other towns, were vital in contributing for the church construction.

In spite of being the largest town in Norfolk County, a visitor fresh off the Old Colony Railroad would mistakenly think that Quincy was sparsely populated because of its inhabitants being concentrated among villages. Fortunately, Quincy was a growing town. In 1880 the population was 10,529. By 1885, it grew to 12,172 – an increase of 1643. As more farmers moved west, the plowed fields gradually became replaced with houses. The newcomers and others who commute to Boston have enough money to pay taxes and give donations for the finer things in life, like quiet parks, wide sidewalks, and an easy to reach church.

During that time, the Quincy Patriot newspaper printed, on every issue, excellent sermons from the temperance movement. Here’s a quote from the May 30, 1885 issue of Quincy Patriot – the same issue which reported the dedication of the church building:

In all this there is exhilaration but no nourishment; there is animation, but no permanent power conferred on brain or muscle. Alcohol may cheer for the moment. It may set the sluggish blood in motion, start the flow of thought, and excite a temporary gayety.

It may enable a wearied or feeble organism to do brisk work for a short time. It may make the brain briefly brilliant. It may excite the muscle to quick action, but it does nothing at its own cost, fills up nothing it has destroyed, and itself leads to destruction.

Even the mental activity it has excited is an unsafe state of mind, for that just poise of the faculties so essential to good judgement is disturbed by the presence of the intruder. Johnson well remarked, "Wine improves the conversation by taking the edge off the understanding."

Dedication of the First Church Building

2007-05-26T09:46:00.000-07:00

Evangelical Church of Atlantic – 1874 through 1885

65 Newbury Ave
Quincy, MA 02171

Dedication of the First Church Building

The following is a reprint from the Quincy Patriot, a weekly newspaper. The article was dated on Saturday, May 30, 1885. All text surrounded by brackets are clarifications added by myself.

Church Dedicated.

Atlantic has a Congregational Church and Pastor.

Dedicatory Services and History of the Society since 1874.

The dedicatory services of the new Congregational Chapel at Atlantic occurred Thursday and the seating capacity was fully tested, there being three hundred or more present from the village, Quincy, Neponset and elsewhere. About the desk was an abundance of flowers, noticeable a floral cross from Faulkner’s greenhouses. A handsome bible, the gift of Mrs. D. F. Dewing, as a memorial of the late Miss Mary R. Lee, was upon the desk; also a pulpit lamp, the gift of Mr. Wade of Brockton. The quartette was Miss Savage, Mrs. Carver, and Messrs. Hall and Owen and the order of exercises was as follows:

Anthem,	Choir
Invocation,	Rev. D. W. Waldron
Hymn,	Congregation
Reading Scripture,	Rev. D. W. Waldron
Prayer,	Rev. F. L. Bristol
Historical Address,	Rev. R. F. Gordon
Hymn,	Congregation
Sermon,	Rev. Dr. Duryea
Dedicating Prayer	Rev E. N. Packard
Doxology,	Congregation
Benediction,	Rev. F. L. Bristol

Rev. Dr. Duryea sermon was an excellent one, and was from Second Corinthians, 6:16 ["What agreement is there between the temple of God and idols? For we are the temple of the living God. As God has said: ‘I will live with them and walk among them and I will be their God, and they will be my people." NIV].

The edifice cost $3,500. It is 35 [feet] by 65 [feet] in size, with an auditorium 35 [feet] by 53 [feet]. There is a pastor’s room in the rear of the pulpit and also two good-sized ante rooms. The builder was Mr. Samuel Davenport of Neponset. The land was purchased of B. F. Prescott of Neponset, who taking into consideration the purposes for which it was to be used, sold it for about one-half it’s value. The church is not free from debt but we learn that a greater part of the cost has been met. It will be heated by furnace.

For the following interesting sketch of the struggles and triumphs of the Atlantic Mission we are indebted to a lady of Atlantic who has watched with much pleasure the erection of the new edifice.

A Review.

The village of Atlantic is comparatively of recent growth. Until within twenty years the population was nearly stationary and consisted largely of prosperous farmers who rode in their own conveyances to the neighboring village of Neponset or Quincy Centre to attend their respective churches.

As year by year the farms were divided into lots, and houses and residents multiplied, there seemed to be a rising and ever increasing need of a place of worship nearer at hand.

Early in the summer of 1874 some of the ladies of Atlantic concluded to make an attempt towards having religious services held in the School building and called upon the late Dr. Duggan at that time one of the School Committee, who procured its use for them.

Rev. C. H. Rowe who was then pastor of the Baptist Church at Wallaston was next visited, and he kindly consented to be present and conduct services the following Sabbath, July 12th, when he preached to about fifty.

The next Sabbath, he, with others from his church and several gentlemen from Neponset, organized a Sabbath School. Mr. T. B. Emery, then a resident of Wallaston, was appointed Superintendent, with Mr. Hobbs principal of the Quincy schools, assistant superintendent and secretary. The first teachers were Mr. Bradford, soon succeeded by Mr. Wilde, Mr. J. B. Ramsdell, Mrs. Sawtelle, Mrs. Hallett, Misses Mary R. Lee, Mary Emery, Annie Clean and Kate C. Nelson.

Members of several different denominations were interested in the movement, and it was thought best to have the different ministers alternate in preaching. For nearly three years, pastors were procured from Wallaston, Neponset and more distant churches who gave their services without compensation.

A "Ladies Society" was organized the same summer; its object being to gather funds for the "Mission" in the hope of a church at some distant day. Miss Mary R. Lee was chosen President, and remained so until her recent death. She will long be deeply mourned by those who knew and loved her. Through her earnest and hopeful spirit and the efforts of the ladies who gathered round her, the enterprise once begun was never allowed to fail. Mrs. Hallett and Mrs. Butland, also first member of the society, some years ago were taken and left many sorrowing friends behind.

In the spring of 1877 it was decided to secure a pastor to preach once on the Sabbath, and Rev. S. L. Beiler of the Methodist Church of Neponset was engaged. In a few months he removed to the west, and his successor was Rev. C. F. Rice from the same church. He conducted the services at the School House the remainder of the year, and continued through the years 1878 and 1879. Though his time was of necessity limited, he did much good among the people, and was beloved by all.

In the spring of 1880, Rev. J. W. Richardson was engaged as pastor. He resided here while continuing his studies at the Theological school. He came as a Methodist but shortly after changed to the Baptist faith. He preached with much acceptance to the people until nearly the close of the year 1881, when he left for another field of labor.

As the regular pastors had so far been Methodist and Baptist, it was thought best by all that the Congregationalists should take their turn in furnishing a pastor, and Rev. R. F. Gordon of Neponset was secured. For over three years he has held the Sunday service, and much of the time conducted weekly prayer meetings in the village.

Through all these years the school committee have kindly allowed the use of the School Hall. It has been furnished by funds from the young ladies’ fairs, and the "Ladies Society," with settees, organ, pulpit and other needful articals. Some of the time the hall has been well filled; at others the numbers have been small, but at all times the Sunday school has flourished – under the care of Mr. Emery, succeeded by Mr. Ramsdell, followed again by Mr. Emery, and for the past year under the care of Mr. E. R. Wade.

The need of a church in a more central location has long been felt and often remarked upon, but there has seemed to be no one to take the first steps in the matter. Fortunately for Atlantic Rev. Mr. Gordon saw and felt the need, and took hold of the work with an energy and perseverance that defied all obstacles. Public meetings were called at the school house during the winter and spring of 1884, and after the subject was thoroughly discussed it was decided by the majority to build a Congregational Chapel.

Mr. Gordon commenced work at once in collecting funds from wealthy Congregationalists in Boston and elsewhere, and secure a fine lot in a most central and desirable location. A committee was appointed to visit every family in the village and get subscriptions towards the building. With very few exceptions all have taken a deep interest, and though from unavoidable causes the work has progressed slowly, it has gone surely on to its completion.

The people of Atlantic may now congratulate themselves on possessing a Chapel, roomy, pleasant, and easy of access, and they have great reason for gratitude to Rev. Mr. Gordon for his untiring efforts in their behalf. Many thanks are also due to the kind friends who have assisted them in this work and helped to make it a success.

May all labor together in the spirit of love and unity, which is the spirit of true Christianity.