Reverend Furrer doing what he can to unpack the kernel of Universalism.
“The Common Good: What’s In It for Me?”
I want to talk about early Universalism, which came to North
America in the mid-1700s. To get a little perspective, let us begin by
considering what else was going on at that time. In France, Louis XV was
holding court in the opulent Versailles Palace; the expanding bourgeoisie were
rising in economic and social importance, though they had no voice in politics.
Teenager James Watt, was still a couple of decades from inventing the steam
engine, Japan was shrouded in mystery, as was central Africa. Indeed, great
portions of the globe remained unmapped. In New Mexico, a fragile
stability—following decades of discord—prevailed. The Pueblo Revolt [1680-92]
expelled the Spanish for a time, but it was clear that the Spanish were here to
stay. Meanwhile, Spanish metals, horses, and firearms were quickly spreading
north, rapidly transforming the economies of the whole continent. When
Europeans arrived in this area they found complex hunting and fishing societies
with large villages filled with many houses, diversity of culture, and intricate
systems of trade and social rank.
Religious toleration, such as we know it today, was virtually
unknown anywhere in the world, with the notable exception was Pennsylvania. The
promise of religious freedom drew many German pietists to the colony practicing
what, to their contemporaries, were seen as offbeat, mystical sects: Dunkers,
Schwenkfelders, and
Universalists.
Dr. George de Benneville, after a harrowing life and several
near-death experiences, came to the Delaware Valley in the early 1740s. For
fifty years, he practiced medicine and—very gently—preached. Small meetings. No
revivals. All are saved. God is love.
He paved the way for others, many of whose names are
forgotten; some, however, like Thomas Potter, are remembered. Potter attended de Benneville’s services as a young
man, then moved to the Jersey Shore, cleared land, and began farming. He built
a chapel on the premonition that, eventually, the right preacher would come and
In England, meanwhile, a young man named John Murray, after
listening to, reading, and trying to resist the arguments of the Universalist
James Relly, threw in the towel and became a Universalist himself. He became
convinced, he wrote, by Relly’s appeal to scripture. Thereafter, Murray
believed that the death of Christ had in fact atoned for all human sin and made
universal salvation not only possible but a foregone fact. After a series of
personal tragedies, including his arrest for debt and the deaths of both his
wife and son, Murray vowed to quit preaching heresy and sailed for America. His
ship floundered off Good Luck Bay, New Jersey. The crew sent a delegation
ashore, including Murray, to gather provisions. There they ran into Thomas
Potter who before long recognized Murray as the preacher he had been waiting
for. A deal was struck. Potter would feed the crew and passengers free of
charge, provided Murray agreed to preach the following Sunday, “if the wind
doesn’t change.” Within a few years John Murray had founded the first
Universalist church in America. He was also Chaplain to General George
Washington during the Revolutionary War.
George de Benneville also paved the way for Elhanan
Winchester, for early anti-slavery activists, and for Dr. Benjamin Rush, a
signer of the Declaration of Independence and friend to Jefferson and Franklin.
De Benneville, Winchester, Rush, and Murray: these people were very much
theists and Christians, but they were not Calvinists. Briefly, they believed
that the God revealed in the forgiving, enemy-loving Jesus was totally
incompatible with the idea of eternal torment. In short:
they did not believe in hell.
They believed in and practiced their faith within an
overarching Christian paradigm,
