The Praying Scholar

Daily prayer is the means by which we renew ourselves. Prayer is a reaching out to God, a response to God’s blessings. Prayer involves asking God what God already knows you will ask. God wishes us to ask for prayers for others, for the suffering and hurt, for the poor and lonely, for animals, other Creatures, the entire Creation. It is through prayer that humans intercede with God to bring God’s Creation to the Good that He has always planned for it, for us.

A prayerful scholar is a praying scholar, seeking God’s help, asking for the intercession of the Saints, of the Virgin Mary, so that the Holy Spirit informs, reveals, helps us to understand God’s will and ways.

A scholar examines human and natural history to discover what is true. In the process, the scholar seeks help from God through prayer to bless the scholar with wisdom, so that We shall know the Truth, and the Truth shall set us free.

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Ash Hill Publishing

Ash Hill Publishing publishes many of the books that you will find listed at this blog, including books on religion, history, biography, and genealogy.

For example, if you are interested in a different twist and empathetic telling of how and why Jesus came among us two thousand years ago, get either the hardback or paperback of “Metamorphosis: How Jesus of Nazareth Vanquished the Legion of Sin”: paperback, Metamorphosis: How Jesus of Nazareth Conquered the Legion of Fear–softcover | Ash Hill Publishing hardcover, Metamorphosis: How Jesus of Nazareth Vanquished the Legion of Fear–Hardcover | Ash Hill Publishing

For the first complete narrative retelling of Captain John Smith (of Jamestown and Pocahontas fame) and his voyage along the New England coast in 1614, which includes an account of Smith’s life and his Anglican Christian beliefs, see The Seamark: Captain John Smith’s Voyage to New England | Ash Hill Publishing

In fiction, I have two choices for you. If you are interested in historical fiction I recommend “The Curse of the Bronze Amulet,” a story set in eighteenth-century New England with a touch of fantasy and a touch of romance: The Curse of the Bronze Amulet | Ash Hill Publishing

I your interests run to Christian fiction, I recommend “The Christmas Miracle,” the story of a man facing death whose dreams transform him on Christmas Eve: The Christmas Miracle | Ash Hill Publishing

For a narrative account of Baptist missionaries in Oklahoma leading to the founding and complete history of the famous Indian missionary school Bacone College, see Marking the Jesus Road: Bacone College through the Years | Ash Hill Publishing

For a biography of one of the most significant Protestant missionaries, Daniel Little, among the Indians of New England in the eighteenth century, see Apostle of the East–soft cover | Ash Hill Publishing or for hardcover, The Apostle of the East–Hardcover | Ash Hill Publishing

If your taste runs to local history telling the stories of normal individuals living during changing and turbulent times in the 1800s and 1900s, I recommend the following:

For New England, and the biographical portraits of two women who kept extensive diaries and other writings to tell their story: The Memories of Lida Newcomb | Ash Hill Publishing and The Memories of Katie Perkins | Ash Hill Publishing

For the American South, especially Arkansas and Oklahoma, and the stories of hardy pioneer men and women on the frontier in the mid to late 1800s, see Van Sorrels the Woodcutting Musician | Ash Hill Publishing and Claude Largent and the American Dream | Ash Hill Publishing

For a history of the Lawson and related families of the American South, see The Lawsons of the American Southern Hill Country | Ash Hill Publishing

All of these books can be ordered and paid for online, and you can arrange for shipping. Each copy is signed and dated by the author.

Of course, this blog, TheAmericanPlutarch, also has links to many other books I have written that you can purchase directly from the publisher, including my newest books, “American Catholics: American Catholics: An Encyclopedic History: Russell M. Lawson: Bloomsbury Academic – Bloomsbury and “Science in the Ancient World”: Science in the Ancient World: From Antiquity through the Middle Ages: Russell M. Lawson: ABC-CLIO – Bloomsbury

Happy Reading!

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Georges Lemaître and the Big Bang: The Limits of Piety

Georges Lemaître was a Catholic priest and military veteran who in the 1920s and 1930s made astonishing theoretical discoveries that overturned the steady-state universe, the eternal unchanging universe that astronomers had believed in for millennia. Father Lemaître argued that the universe had a creation in time and space, and it was a physical rather than metaphysical occurrence. He was a priest and scientist who kept his roles separate, arguing for a physical beginning of a universe the mysteries of which provided fodder for the metaphysician, the theist, and the Roman Catholic, to contemplate.

The development of science over time from the ancient Greeks and Aristotle through the Middles Ages and thinkers such as William of Ockham and Thomas Aquinas into the Renaissance and the development of the Scientific Revolution heralded by Nicholas Copernicus to, for the last five hundred years, modern science, influenced by skeptics such as Descartes and other French thinkers and scientists such as Michel de Montaigne, Jean Louis Berlandier, and Louis Pasteur, has reached a point in the twenty-first century where scientists are confident that in time most questions of the universe will be answered. As Paul Davies proclaimed in God and the New Physics, “science has actually advanced to the point where what were formerly religious questions can be seriously tackled.”

The promise of science to replace religion as the answer to the great questions of existence has, however, proved elusive. Even so great a savant as Stephen Hawking believed that the origin of the universe is ultimately unknowable, which is not part of the purview of science anyway because there is no physical evidence of what existed before the creation.

Scientists refer to the Big Bang as a singularity, an unknown of mass and potential energy that at a point, the beginning of time and space, exploded and expanded into the universe that we have today. Long before Einstein proclaimed that mass is energy at rest and energy is mass in motion the Book of Genesis had proclaimed that “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” The theologian and philosopher Augustine in The City of God argued that God precedes time and space, that God is the origin of what modern physicists refer to as the singularity.

Ironically—or, perhaps there is no irony involved at all—the scientist who first conjectured the Big Bang was a Catholic priest, the Belgian Georges Henri Joseph Édouard Lemaître, a veteran of World War I, a Ph.D. physicist and mathematician who in 1927 published a paper in an obscure scientific journal that few scientists read arguing for a unique interpretation of the universe that was not steady-state nor eternal and infinite rather a universe that was expanding. In 1931 in the journal, Nature, he elaborated on this theory suggesting that such an expanding universe must have a point of a beginning and from this point expanded throughout billions of years into a universe without a clear center.

Lemaître did not refer to this point of origin, what physicists term the singularity, as the Big Bang, rather as a “primeval atom.” What was exciting for some and concerning for others was that the scientist who proclaimed this beginning of an expanding universe was not just a physicist, but a Roman Catholic priest as well, having been ordained in 1923. Lemaître was aware of the disparity in his roles, that he lived at a time when scientists were distancing themselves from religion and God opting for completely secular explanations of the universe. Many scientists refused at first to accept such an idea of a primeval atom as being beyond the scope of scientific investigation therefore irrelevant. Science only deals with perceived phenomena, not miraculous moments and supernatural beginnings. Lemaître himself tried to separate his work as a scientist from his role as a priest. In the 1931 Nature article he made no reference to God or a divine creation. He wrote that “the beginning of the world happened a little before the beginning of space and time,” in other words the moment of creation was the moment when space and time were created. It is possible, he continued to “conceive the beginning of the universe in the form of a unique atom, the atomic weight of which is the total mass of the universe.” This atom he called the primeval atom. “This highly unstable atom would divide in smaller and smaller atoms by a kind of super-radioactive process. Some remnant of this process might . . . foster the heat of the stars until our low atomic number atoms allowed life to be possible.” This was in brief the theory of what came to be called the Big Bang.

Interestingly, in the original draft of the article, which is a very brief four paragraphs, Lemaître added a fifth, subsequently crossed out and not published, in which he wrote: “I think that everyone who believes in a supreme being supporting every being and every [action], believes also that God is essentially hidden and may be glad to see how present physics provides a veil hiding the creation.” This fascinating comment implies that Lemaitre realized that his theory of the primeval atom would be recognized by theists as the Divine Creator. That he marked it out implies that he did not want to mix science and religion in his 1931 paper. But he did not need to worry, because his theory of the primeval atom begged the question of who or what caused it, which science cannot explain; this is the limit of science, which is not able to explain anything beyond the physical phenomena of the universe—hence cannot explain the Prime Mover, the Creator, God.

Lemaître’s words in the crossed out fifth paragraph of the 1931 article in Nature–“that God is essentially hidden” by what occurred before the primeval atom, which provides “a veil hiding the creation”–are particularly revealing. The promise of science ultimately falls short. Humans cannot know everything, despite the enthusiastic progressivism of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment, nineteenth-century positivism, and the humanistic philosophers, such as Julian Huxley, of the twentieth century. The ultimate cause of all things, the ultimate force in existence, the ultimate source of life, the ultimate being—is ultimately unknown to us. We gather knowledge about this Being from studying nature, God’s handiwork, the Elder Scripture, as well as from God’s revealed word, the Scripture of the Old and New Testament.

The varied articles in Catholic Exchange during the past four months, beginning with the first, “Piety and Science: The Paradigm Shift,” have explored the relationship between piety and science over the course of the past 2500 years. As we come to the end of the series with this essay on Georges Lemaître, we come to the end, the limit as it were, of piety, which might be the ultimate expression of piety. Human reason, mathematics, physical science, and technology have penetrated so many secrets of the earth and universe, but there is a limit. Lemaitre reached the limit, beyond which human knowledge cannot go, and where only faith can venture: the unknowable before the beginning, which in contemplating we can only do so in awe and wonder.

This article originally appeared in the online journal, Catholic Exchange.

This article was featured in the podcast “When Science Hits the Wall: Piety, Georges Lemaitre, and the Big Bang, presented by Claymore: Become who you are: Bing Videos

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Do not Fear Death, because Perfect Love Casts out Fear

Death is the last act of life that occurs in an instant in time, yet it opens to eternity. Hence the moment and the eternal are combined at once in death. Death is a time when our perceptions of life are focused upon what is important–life, love–so death helps bring life into perspective. Death is closely associated with love and life because of the perspective it brings. Death, like love, is eternal. Without death, without confronting our end, we would have less perspective on the importance of life. Confronting death makes one aware of the end of corporeal existence and all that is connected with it. Health may mean happiness in our day-to-day affairs on earth, but ill health, like death, reminds us of our mortality and forces the mind to awareness.

Death is the great leveler. It is a reminder of the silliness of reputation and status. Death is a time when the great truths are discovered because of our heightened awareness. Strange that mortality can help us discover what is immortal. As the act of love, the experience of the body, leads us to a sense of unity with another, of one rather than two, which is the essence of that universal phenomenon, love, so death is an explosive experience, a bodily occurrence that is a singular act but leads to a perception of life, life that transcends just us, life as a force that transcends the ages. Death, it seems, at the moment life ends, is the time of the greatest apprehension of what life is. A momentary awareness of truth occurs then is gone. Before death, when perceiving or expecting it, awareness grows, and it would seem insights into the act of death.

Death is bitter and painful, the last bodily suffering, the last consciously experienced molding of the clay by God. Death is fearful, it is inevitable. And it is uncertain: when, how, why, what, and what happens after, if there is an after. What if there is nonexistence? Is it perhaps narcissistic to assume that a person will exist after death? But then again, what about love? Nonexistence means the end of love. It means that the quest for unity is over, that unity is never attained, unless it is unity with the universe by turning back to dust. But love? to end? Love is knowledge, to end? There must be a truth in human existence, something that goes beyond time and place, which is love. Love is the basis for life. How can the creation of another human be merely material and physical? The fact that we love, which is transcendent, means that there is love both in life and death.

Love is a thirst to end loneliness, to be united with another person. Nonexistence is loneliness, it is dark, cold loneliness. One won’t know, but it is still loneliness, or it is perceived as such. Nonexistence is the exact opposite of life, because life is the thirsting and the search for unity, and love is the basis for unity.

Nonexistence is dissolution and dismemberment, it is sinking back into nothingness, dissolving into dust, scattering into chaos. Existence, rather, is the constant movement forward, it is completedness, wholeness, unity.

Love, faith, hope: all are connected. God’s love is something we feel. Love is unity, God is love, God loves us, life will not end with death, for God, the source of unity, will draw us to Him. This is felt not known. This feeling of love is the basis for faith and hope.

Life is a journey between two poles of unknowns, yet what connects these poles, what directs life, is God—or Love. God is inscrutable, but where do we come from? Who creates us? God, and why? God loves, so he creates, He extends outward, He is the unity from which the parts come and to which they will go. Death is the return, not the end. Death is the call from God to the completion of the journey. It is a call of Love, to return to the ultimate Lover. Hence, Love: what about faith and hope? Like love, how one lives his life and what he believes depends upon how he feels. With faith and hope we have a trust in the future, a trust based upon our feelings of love and God’s promise of Love. We hope for something to be fulfilled in the future, something we expect to happen, but since it is of the future, it is not completely certain. Yet the hope is rested upon God’s love, and upon our own awareness too. If I didn’t feel love as the principle of existence I would not be able to have hope in unity with the ultimate unity. Faith is faith in God’s promise but also faith in oneself and what one feels to be true. Love is love of God but also confidence in the feeling of Love one has, and an awareness that comes from oneself of what love is, an introspective feeling. This awareness of knowledge of oneself is love of oneself.

Why fear death then if death is fulfillment? For Love is the whole key to human existence, to all the other universals in peace, harmony, hope, to conquering fear and conquering death.

Love is universal, but our modern age has corrupted it.

Our existence is predicated upon our lives—our bodies, our earthly experiences, our families and friends, our earthly loves. It is all we know, it is the focus even of our love, as well as our hope and faith. But death dissolves this anchor of existence. Even if we don’t fear nonexistence, we face the end of all we know to be existence. We have faith and hope in a further existence, but we cannot be certain of this further existence. So even if there is no fear of nonexistence, there is the apprehension of having all one knows become what one doesn’t know–hence the need for faith and hope. But here love is important too, for if God is love and we are called to this unity, then we know of love too, and perhaps can sense or feel that this love isn’t transient. Here love is a guide, the faint glimmer in our ignorance, to help us in death.

If death is the door of love to God then why not experience it? If it is a time of love and pathos with family, where a certain beauty exists, which is love, then why not experience it?

Further, the fear of death is usually tied to images of real experiences of seeing others die, or images of the imagination thinking of oneself dying. But it can be countered by the images of Love, based on the experiences of love in life as well as the imaginary future possibilities of love in death.

The Apostle John knew about all that I write above, as he expressed in his Gospel, and in his three Letters, especially the first of which, in which he declared emphatically:

1. God is Love.

2. There is no fear in Love, because perfect love casts out fear.

3. There is no fear in death, because death is the reunification with Love itself.

I explore fear in the ancient world and how Jesus confronted fear and vanquished it in Metamorphosis: How Jesus of Nazareth Vanquished the Legion of Fear: https://ash-hill-publishing.square.site/product/metamorphosis-how-jesus-of-nazareth-vanquished-the-legion-of-fear-hardcover/ETEBDKWQ5QIVJBWDA4T6JD64?si=true

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Reflections on Daniel Boone, American Frontiersman, and John Filson, his First Biographer

John Filson, in his 1784 portrait of “The Adventures of Col. Daniel Boon” appended to The Discovery, Settlement and Present State of Kentucke, declared that “curiosity is natural to the soul of man.” With these words Filson sparked the beginning of the legend of Daniel Boone, the explorer and frontiersman who more than any other American was responsible for the penetration and settlement of Kentucky. Filson, a schoolmaster who wanted to bring fame to Kentucky and fortune to himself, purported to record Boone’s own story, though in the process Filson added his own words and ideas, to create an image of the “natural man,” Daniel Boone, which continues even today. Boone is a good example of fact and folklore coming together to garble the historical reality of one person’s life.

Indeed, historians and biographers of the American frontier often have to use anecdote and traditions to recount lives. Carl Sandburg did this in his monumental biography of Abraham Lincoln. With such sources, a historian can often assume based on a critical perspective that stories might originate with the person under study, hence stories of Boone might have originated with Boone himself, or his family, and that they contain a kernel of truth. The documentary evidence for Boone’s life is sporadic, so that Boone and his children’s stories are perhaps autobiographical, hence valid evidence to reconstruct his life.

Filson uses such folklore though he is at times carried away with it, presenting episodes in the life of Boone as actual occurrences rather than somewhat remote distorted possibilities. Tradition has it that Saucy Jack, a Catawba Indian, lost to Boone in a shooting competition. Saucy Jack’s pride was hurt, and his anger, being nourished by drink, spilled over into threats on Boone’s life. Squire Boone, Daniel’s father, decided to deal with Saucy Jack before something happened to Daniel. Saucy Jack fled to avoid the wrath of Squire Boone. Daniel recounted this story to Filson, and Filson used it in his book. But whether the story was fact or fiction seems to get lost in the narrative: it might just be a story. But then again, it might be a good story that tells of the character of Squire Boone.

Such stories build the character of a man resistant to authority who sought the wilderness as a release from civilization. He admired the ways of the indigenous inhabitants and was more comfortable in the wilderness than with his roles in white society as father, husband, soldier, landowner, and business person. Later, when Boone was living his final years along the Missouri River, and after he died, historians more content with images than reality created a romantic, frontier hero.

John Filson had Daniel Boone say in 1784 that “it requires but little philosophy to make a man happy.” In this simple statement we see the origins of the fascination Americans have had with Daniel Boone. From the security of civilization, it is exciting indeed to imagine oneself pushing the limits of the frontier into the wilderness. Boon did precisely this, but without the romantic courage and suffering that has made its mark on American novels and films about the frontier. Armchair explorers cannot help but assume that such a man would stand taller and appear with more bravery than his contemporaries and descendants.

Filson’s Boone tells us that the explorer is but a normal person made heroic by events, a person who explores not to push forward the boundaries of civilization, who in fact dislikes what civilization represents. Rather this is a man who explores to make a living, because of wanderlust, because he loves solitude, because he fears some of the responsibilities of civilized living, and chiefly because, in Boone’s words, of his “love of Nature.”

Besides Boone, there were countless explorers and hunters who went into the wilderness as the forerunners of civilization. Some are well known. Some are unknown, and are remembered only by a name or passage in a book. One example is a hunter and frontiersman of the Arkansas Territory in the early 1800s, around the time of Boone, whose name was Lee, otherwise little known except that he was a hunter and guide for the natural Thomas Nuttall when Nuttall journeyed up the Arkansas River in 1819. I have told the story of Lee in my book, The Land Between the Rivers: Thomas Nuttall’s Ascent of the Arkansas, published by University of Michigan Press in 2004. If interested, you can purchase the book here: Apostle of the East–soft cover | Ash Hill Publishing

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New in Historical Fantasy Fiction: The Search for the Bronze Amulet

The Search for the Bronze Amulet is historical fantasy fiction, the story of a young Congregational minister (Jonathan Tucker, called Tuck) after the American Revolution who takes a position as pastor to impoverished fishers and their wives on the Isles of Shoals, off the Maine/New Hampshire coast. He is very uncertain about his call to minister to these people. The islanders are extremely poor and very superstitious. He does his best to gather the flock, and begins to have strange dreams….

…. of a ship blown off course that is about to sink; the captain of the Roman vessel tells his slave, a Phoenician nicknamed Punic, to take the helm, and the ship arrives safely at an island. Punic is a priest of the god, Baal; he wears a bronze amulet devoted to the god. Over the course of several dreams/nightmares, Tuck seems to be taking on the persona of Punic. In the dreams the Romans eventually kill Indians who come to the island; the Roman leader suspects Punic of being in cahoots with the natives; he is crucified, and the bronze amulet is left in the ashes.

Meanwhile, Tuck is intrigued by a recluse, Matthew Randolph, who lives on one of the islands; Randolph seems to know a great deal about philosophy, religion, and history, is a skeptic, and has a “museum” as he calls it on the island where he keeps various treasures he has discovered on the isles. Tuck is also intrigued by a young woman named Etsy, who is the daughter of a fisher, is beautiful, a bit mysterious, very independent, and convinced that the islands are haunted by something that invades people’s dreams.

The story takes a turn south to Boston, where a physician, Ebenezer Norton, is fascinated by all sorts of science and history. He has been corresponding with some of his friends about the Dighton Rock, a rock with strange, confusing hieroglyphics. One correspondent believes that they are Phoenician letters, similar to the Algonquian language. Norton knows that the Algonquians were once led by Passaconaway, a chief reputed to have remarkable powers. But his descendants, having fled north to Canada, were crushed by Robert Rogers and his Rangers in 1759. Norton’s correspondent, Rev. Daniel Cotton, knows of a survivor of that attack on the St. Francis Indians of Canada, a man named Abel Crawford, a drunken pauper who lives in Portsmouth, NH. He says that he will talk to him when he has a chance to see what he recalls about the attack.

Abel Crawford, meanwhile, in Portsmouth, recalls the old days, when he and other Rogers’ Rangers attacked the village of the St. Francis Indians; Crawford had taken away silver and a bronze amulet. He and a few others fled to the White Mountains, where vengeful spirits killed all save him, who fled the mountains to Portsmouth, where he was never the same. He has itched to return to find the treasure, and finally finds a man, called only the Captain, in whom he confides his hopes; the Captain, however, kills him.

Daniel Cotton writes Norton of the news of Abel Crawford’s death, which the two minister/scientists think is suspicious, and they decide to act as sleuths and investigate, Norton travels to Portsmouth. Upon arriving they interview various people who say that Crawford seemed to have had a connection with a recluse who lives at the Isles of Shoals, Matthew Randolph. The two men decide to sail to the Isles to see if they can interview Randolph. There they meet with Randolph, and see Etsy and Tuck.

Meanwhile Tuck has gotten to know Randolph, and has had the time to investigate his “museum,” where he has found an ancient manuscript, written in Greek (which Tuck can read), in which a forlorn Greek, Polybius Marcellinus, traveling with Romans, is holed up in a small rocky hideout on an island; he realizes that he is going to die. All that remains of the Romans is himself and a bronze amulet, which he knows the Indians want. He ends the manuscript calling upon his gods, to no avail. The manuscript shocks Tuck, who realizes that his dreams have a connection with the distant past of these islands. The dreams about Baal and an amulet cause him to question his faith in Christ.

At this point Etsy happens upon Tuck. She can tell that he is frightened. She assumes it is the “curse” and flees; she takes to her rowboat, and is soon out to sea. Tuck waits, and falls asleep as night falls. Etsy, who is adept at rowing on the sea, makes her way to the mouth of the Piscataqua River, and Portsmouth. There she finds a hidden cove she often stays at; unfortunately, there is a man next to a fire, who sees her, and grabs her. It is the Captain. He takes her as a hostage, his intent unclear. She rows him up the Piscataqua. Daniel Cotton, who is pastor at Kittery Point, happens to see her row by; he knows who she is. He calls, she ignores him. He knows something is wrong. Quickly he goes to his friend Norton’s lodging in Portsmouth, and they decide they must do something. They send a letter to Randolph, who upon receiving it decides that she is in trouble. He and Tuck go in pursuit, sailing to the Piscataqua, where they join Cotton and Norton, then proceed up the river to Dover, where they learn that the man and girl have disembarked and are heading north–to the White Mountains! Clearly, the Captain has learned from Crawford where he thinks the treasure might be in the mountains.

They go in pursuit, following the path north to the Ellis River, which leads to the Great Mountain [Mt. Washington], which they ascend. Randolph assumes the lead, now letting everyone know that he has been here before. They separate. Randolph and Tuck make their way, eventually, to a cave. When they arrive, they find Etsy tied up, a captive. Tuck goes to help, but is hit from behind. He enters a dream-world. The Captain also attacks Randolph, and takes from him the amulet, which Randolph has had in his possession all along.

The Captain escapes, Tuck and Randolph (recovered), and Etsy in pursuit. Thunder surrounds the mountains. They reach the Western Notch, on the western side of the Great Mountain. There they see the Captain, on a ledge, surrounded by wolves. The amulet is around his neck. The wolves attack; the Captain falls from the ledge to a river (the Saco) below. Just then a flash flood rages through the Notch, destroying everything in its path. Randolph helps Etsy and Tuck to safety but is swept away. Tuck and Etsy, with the help of a Penacook Indian, Indian Jack, pass through the Notch, following the Saco downstream, looking for bodies, a sign: nothing. They assume Randolph died along with the Captain. The amulet is lost.

Tuck and Etsy return to Isles and his parish. He is no longer haunted by dreams. A freak wave has destroyed Randolph’s hut on White Island. Tuck and Etsy over the course of the journey have fallen in love; their future is known.

The book concludes at the Western Notch. Indian Jack leads axe-men and road-builders through the Notch to build a road. Wolves are about. He knows that the spirit of Passaconaway had sent the wolves to destroy the Captain, to keep anyone at bay who threatens the peace of the mountain wilderness.

The book can be purchased at The Curse of the Bronze Amulet | Ash Hill Publishing

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Captain John Smith was an Anglican Missionary—-WHAT?!

Captain John Smith was arguably the greatest of the English explorers, discoverers, and colonists of America. He was as well the first American historian. His human and natural histories include: A True Relation of Such Occurrences and Accidents of Noate as Hath Hapned in Virginia Since the First Planting of that Collony, published in 1608; A Map of Virginia, published in 1612; the Description of New England, published in 1616; New Englands Trials, published in 1620; The True Travels, published in 1629; the Advertisements for the Unexperienced Planters of New England, published in 1631; and his most ambitious effort, The General Historie of Virginia, New England, and the Summer Isles, published in 1624. The General History has quite a story to tell, of journeys and battles, of harrowing escapes from enemies intent on torturing their captives, of explorers penetrating lands and waters hitherto unseen by Europeans, of dramatic episodes involving the American Indians. With so many possible themes—of adventure, romance, discovery—with which to open his book, it is instructive to see how Smith chose to open his General History.  The first paragraph reads:

“This plaine History humbly sheweth the truth; that our most royall King James hath place and opportunitie to inlarge his ancient Dominions without wronging any; (which is a condition most agreeable to his most just and pious resolutions:) and the Prince his Highness may see where to plant new Colonies. The gaining Provinces addeth to the Kings Crown: but the reducing Heathen people to civilitie and true Religion, bringeth honour to the King of Heaven.”[1]

            Contained in this first paragraph of the General History are the three fundamental assumptions that guided the life and activities of John Smith, and indeed of all the English explorers who journeyed to America in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, during the Elizabeth and Jacobean ages. Smith identified himself, as well as the English, as a conqueror, a colonizer, and a commissioner: a conqueror who will “reduce heathen people,” a colonizer who will “plant new colonies,” and a commissioner who will “bringeth honour to the King of Heaven.” Further, conquest, colonization, and commission are “just and pious” works that, rather than “wronging any,” will bring “civilitie and true Religion.” Smith argued, in short, that the work of conquest and colonization is the work of the Great Commission, which was the commandment that Jesus gave to his disciples, as recorded in the Gospels, to go, and spread the Gospel to all nations. God directs the English to conquer and colonize a land already inhabited. But in so doing they do not wrong anyone because in carrying out the Great Commission they are carrying out God’s will, which cannot be wrong or evil. God’s will is that the English spread the Gospel to people hitherto ignorant of Christ, thereby bringing Good News of peace, happiness, love, and life to a people, it was presumed, who do not have them, and bringing as well a new culture, a civilization that far surpasses the silvan culture of the American Indian. Smith’s assumption, like those of his contemporaries in Jacobean England, was that civilizing a people goes hand in hand with Christianizing a people. 

            To use civilization and conversion as the ultimate ends to justify conquest and colonization seems disingenuous to say the least, a crass example of an expedient moral system that defends evil because it results in an ultimate good. Forcing others to convert to Christianity was not Smith’s style, and English discoverers anyway tended not to force religion down the throats of disbelieving Indians. Even so, it often appears that, of the three apparent reasons for European colonization, God, Glory, and Gold, God was least important, mere window-dressing, something that sounded good in theory but was in reality little practiced.

            If, however, we allow the words of the English to explain their motives and assumptions, and refrain from judging not lest we be judged, we find that the narratives of English colonization repeatedly cite the Great Commission as the ultimate end for the means of conquest and colonization. 

Captain Smith was not, of course, ordained and commissioned by the Anglican or any other Church to spread the Gospel according to the tenets of the Great Commission. But Smith did believe that Jesus’s commandment to his disciples to go, and spread the Gospel to all nations, applied to English colonizing efforts. Smith was, we might say, an ad hoc commissioner who, because of his Anglican beliefs, felt compelled not only to journey to America and colonize the land, but to do so because the Great Commission commanded it, and, as a consequence, to bring knowledge of the teachings of Christ to the American Indians. Smith was joined in this endeavor by other explorers, colonizers, and scientists, such as the voyagers who founded Roanoke in the 1580s, and the men of the Martin Frobisher, Humfrey Gilbert, and George Waymouth voyages. Smith is the best known of the early American explorers, and a person that on the surface would not appear to be inclined toward the concerns of the missionary to spread the knowledge of Christianity to others. But the Anglican worldview had quite an impact on Smith, and he responded with a strong sense of the importance of the Great Commission in the work of colonization.

            During Smith’s time, scholars and theologians took the words of the Great Commission literally, at face value. Jesus’s Commission required commissioners who were willing to travel, explore, discover, and engage the peoples and places of hitherto unknown lands. Commissioners spread the word to an unknown people in an unknown world of unknown geography, flora, fauna, and natural history. Some were commissioned by monastic orders or church agencies. Others were ad hoc, commissioners who in the process of exploring, discovering, fighting, investigating, and studying also spread the teachings of Jesus.

            The Church of England was involved in the Great Commission from the true beginning of English activities in North America under Queen Elizabeth I. The Church commissioned some missionaries to go to America in an official capacity; yet many other missionaries were self-appointed, commissioners simply because they were Anglicans. Martin Frobisher, for example, soldier and adventurer, made three voyages to North America in the 1570s seeking the Northwest Passage. He made contact, and had pitched battles, with the native Inuit people. One contemporary account of his second, 1577, voyage, explained that Frobisher and his men sought, “that by our Christian study and endeavour, those barbarous people trained up in paganism, and infidelity, might be reduced to the knowledge of true religion, and to the hope of salvation in Christ our Redeemer.” The ordained agent in this goal of spreading the Christian message was Robert Wolfall, an Anglican priest, who was chaplain and missionary with the Frobisher voyage to Canada in 1578. Wolfall, according to contemporary chronicler Richard Hakluyt, “being well seated and settled at home in his owne countrey, with a good and large living, having a good, honest woman to wife, and very towardly children, being of good reputation amongst the best, refused not to take in hand this paineful voyage, for the onely care he had to save soules and to reforme these infidels, if it were possible, to Christianitie.” Wolfull was busy on the voyage with homilies, prayers, and communion: “Wolfall,” Hakluyt wrote, “made sermons, and celebrated the Communion at sundry other times in severall and sundry ships, because the whole company could never meet together at any one place.” There is no record that Wolfull actually converted any of the Inuit to Christianity, though he did counsel Frobisher’s men and performed the “divine mystery” for the crew.[2]

            Wolfull was by and large a chaplain, and the relations between the English and the Inuit were more of conflict than peace. A decade later, however, in another part of North America, another commissioner, not ordained but ad hoc, had friendlier relations with the Native peoples, and enjoyed more positive results. Scientist Thomas Hariot accompanied the Grenville voyage, sponsored by Walter Raleigh, to Roanoke Island, off the coast of North Carolina, in 1585. Hariot wrote A Briefe and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia, of the Commodities and of the Nature and Manners of the Naturall Inhabitants: Discouered bÿ the English Colony there seated by Sir Richard Greinuile Knight In the yeere 1585. Hariot was a naturalist and mathematician, a learned man who communicated, through interpreters, with the native Algonquians about their religious beliefs and tried to impart his knowledge of Anglicanism in turn. He described the Indians as intelligent, having an anthropomorphic and a polytheistic system, including a belief in Heaven and Hell. They were, he wrote, quick to abandon their beliefs in the face of more compelling ideas. Christianity and the Bible fascinated them. “Through conversing with us,” Hariot wrote, “they were brought into great doubts of their owne [religion], and no small admiration of ours, with earnest desire in many, to learne more than we had meanes for want of perfect utterance in their language to expresse.” Hariot, not a priest but devoted to the Great Commission, wrote that “manie times and in every towne where I came, according as I was able, I made declaration of the contentes of the Bible; that therein was set foorth the true and onelie GOD, and his mightie woorkes, that therein was contayned the true doctrine of salvation through Christ, which manie particularities of Miracles and chiefe poyntes of religion, as I was able then to utter, and thought fitte for the time. And although I told them the booke materially & of itself was not of anie such vertue, as I thought they did conceive, but onely the doctrine therein contained; yet would many be glad to touch it, to embrace it, to kisse it, to hold it to their brests and heades, and stroke over all their bodie with it; to shew their hungrie desire of that knowledge which was spoken of.”[3]

            Hariot believed that the Indians were attracted to Christianity in part because English science and technology so impressed them that they admired all of the possessions and beliefs of the English. That the Indians succumbed to diseases of which the English appeared to be immune was also impressive. The chief “called ‘Wingina’, and many of his people would be glad many times to be with us at our praiers, and many times call upon us both in his owne towne, as also in others whither he sometimes accompanied us, to pray and sing Psalmes; hoping thereby to bee partaker in the same effectes which wee by that meanes also expected.”[4]

            Hariot’s Briefe and True Report implies the interaction of two cultures imparting godly knowledge, one to the other. Of course, one was attempting to colonize, to discover, to exploit, while the other was attempting to survive and thrive in a place they already possessed. During the reign of Elizabeth, the English turned from exploration to colonization, from bringing the Gospel to pagan peoples during voyages of discovery to settling among them and Christianizing them. Such a process was marred by sin. The promoter of colonization and Anglican priest Richard Hakluyt wrote in the Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation that the English failed to establish the colony at Roanoke because they were driven away by “the hand of God,” which “came upon them for the cruelty and outrages committed by some of them against the native inhabitants of that country.”[5]

            Such was the typical response of an Elizabethan Christian who believed in God’s active Providence. Failure was obviously a product of God’s will, and failure could best be explained by sin.  Hakluyt’s comment implied a larger question: Was it valid to conquer, colonize, and bring the Great Commission to the indigenous inhabitants of America?

            The English, and Captain John Smith, answered in the affirmative, in part because the Elizabethan and Jacobean English believed that England was an Elect nation, in part because of their tremendous sense of God’s Providence at work in their own lives and in the world at large. The English Reformation and founding of the Church of England under Henry VIII, its repression under Mary Tudor, and growth under Elizabeth I, had convinced many English that God particularly blessed England, which would carry out His will. God’s providential role in English voyages of discovery and the English assumption that the Great Commission was of necessity the driver of such voyages can be seen in many of the narratives of voyages of discovery from that time. Edward Hayes, for example, who wrote the account of the 1583 voyage of Sir Humphrey Gilbert, argued that planting “the seed of Christian religion . . . must be the chiefe intent of such as shall make any attempt that way”–”whatsoever is builded upon other foundation shall never obtaine happy successe nor continuance.” He admonished adventurers who prosecuted such voyages to beware such journeys for material rather than spiritual gain. Hayes associated the fulfillment of the Great Commission to all corners of the world with the Second Coming of Christ; hence he believed that God had chosen the Elizabethan age as the time to begin to prosecute the Commission in earnest. Likewise a contemporary of Smith, James Rosier, who voyaged with and penned accounts of the journeys of Bartholomew Gosnold and George Waymouth, wrote of the ultimate goal of the Waymouth voyage: “a publique good, and true zeale of promulgating Gods holy Church, by planting Christianity, [was] the sole intent of the Honourable setters foorth of this discovery.”[6]

            Smith’s actions and writings reveal that he agreed that England, the Elect Nation, had a particular role to play in the Great Commission of converting a people ignorant of Christ. He defended the English conquest and colonization of America in his book Advertisements for the Unexperienced Planters of New England: “Many good religious devout men,” Smith wrote, “have made it a great question, as a matter in conscience, by what warrant they might goe to possesse those Countries, which are none of theirs, but the poore Salvages. Which poore curiosity will answer it selfe; for God did make the world to be inhabited with mankind, and to have his name knowne to all Nations, and from generation to generation: as the people increased they dispersed themselves into such Countries as they found most convenient.”[7] To Smith, the Great Commission is a historical plan, a commandment of the past guiding people in the present and into the future. Jesus came to earth when the population was not great enough, at that time in the first century, to spread the message of the Gospel to all people. But as time passes and the world’s population increases—and England’s population increases—people have the human and material resources to carry out the Commission. The English colonization of America is therefore part of a great plan. Not to journey to other lands, not to extend the Gospel to other peoples, is to disobey God, indeed to reject God’s plan for history, which in Smith’s time was an even greater sin that using intimidation and violence by which to bring about God’s will.

            Part of God’s historical plan is civilizing the human race. Smith wrote, in Advertisements for the Unexperienced Planters of New England, that, “had the seed of Abraham, our Saviour Christ Jesus and his Apostles, exposed themselves to no more dangers to plant the gospell wee so much professe, than we, even we our selves had at this present beene as Salvages, and as miserable as the most barbarous Salvage, yet uncivilized.”[8] It took the courage of other great men, sojourners like Abraham and the Son of Man himself, Jesus, to conform to God’s plan in the face of great danger, even death. Smith and his contemporaries, such as the French explorer and colonizer Samuel Champlain, referred to the Indians as salvages, which appears on the surface to be a a misspelling or inaccurate transliteration of savages. Salvage is, rather, a rendering from the Latin, silva, referring to those who live in the forest.[9] Forest-dwellers rather than city-dwellers will be less sophisticated, lacking accoutrements of civilization such as literacy and metallurgy. Forest-dwellers are not necessarily savage, though Smith was not afraid to use that word; but he more often described the Indians by the less judgmental salvages. He believed that God’s plan, the Great Commission, aims to bring salvages from their ignorant state of pastoral simplicity into a civilized world, the world, that is, of the English and other Christians. God of course first brought knowledge of His Son to the civilized Roman Empire, to the sophisticated Jews. From here, over the centuries, Christianity spread outward to less civilized peoples in northern and eastern Europe, Africa, and Asia; now, in the early seventeenth century, Christianity was spreading to the uncivilized salvages of America.

            How actively involved was Smith himself in bringing the Gospel to the Indians?          There are many examples in Smith’s writings of his attempts to convince the American Indians of the truth of the Christian God. “Our order was daily to have Prayer,” he wrote, “with a Psalme, at which solemnitie the poore Salvages much wondered.” “To divert them from . . . [their] blind Idolatry,” Smith and his companions “did our best endevours, chiefly with the Werowance of Quiyoughcohanock [Popohanock], whose devotion, apprehension, and good disposition, much exceeded any in those Countries, with whom although we could not as yet prevaile, to God as much exceeded theirs, as our Gunnes did their Bowes & Arrowes, and many times did send to me to James Towne, intreating me to pray to my God for raine, for their Gods would not send them any. And in this lamentable ignorance doe these poore soules sacrifice themselves to the Devill, not knowing their Creator; and we had not language sufficient, so plainly to expresse it as make them understand it; which God grant they may.” Smith believed that his words and actions illustrated the power of God in his life, as he wrote “That God that created all things they knew he [Smith] adored for his God: they would also in their discourses terme the God of Captaine Smith. ‘Thus the Almightie was the bringer on, The guide, path, terme, all which was God alone’.”[10]

            Smith never felt that the Indians showed aggression as a counter to the Great Commission. In Advertisements he explained that the Indian attack on Jamestown in 1622 did not occur because the Virginians were Christian; rather, the Indians wanted to plunder the accoutrements of white civilization. Indians would kill to acquire and steal, but not to counter Christianity. Indeed, he wrote, the Indians were attracted to white civilization. Smith implied that to bring Christianity to the Indians was warranted because it did not repel them and they would not kill because of it.????

            Smith supported the New England Puritans in their work to establish religious societies and convert the natives. God has decided, he wrote, “to stirre up some good mindes, that I hope, will produce glory to God, honour to His Majesty, and profit to his kingdom.” Smith had himself journeyed along the coast of New England in 1614, and believed that the land was reserved by God for some special purpose, that is, English colonization and the fulfillment of the Great Commission. He thought it was possible that God had purposefully spread disease throughout New England prior to the Pilgrims’s coming, preparing the way for the Lord, as it were. The surviving natives of Maine, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts would benefit from the English goal of “civilizing barbarous and inhumane nations to civility and humanity.” Indeed, the English owed this work to the New England Indians; it would otherwise be a “want of charity to those poore Salvages, whose Countries we challenge, use, and possesse.” Personally, Smith felt that it was his Christian duty to pursue this work. “Our good deeds or bad,” he wrote in Advertisements, “by faith in Christs merits, is all wee have to carry our soules to heaven or hell.”[11]

            Smith wrote Advertisements toward the end of his life, when he was reflective about his accomplishments and role in history, and considered what were his greatest achievements. Significantly, he dedicated Advertisements to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Archbishop of York. In this his final work, he wished to show his dedication to the Anglican Church, prefacing his book with a similar statement of commitment to the Great Commission as he had prefaced the General History. He hoped that the “Plantation of New England” would lead to “the increase of Gods Church, converting Salvages, and enlarging the Kings Dominions.” He called the two archbishops his “Fathers and Protectors unexpectedly.” Smith felt compelled to defend himself for doing whatever he could to begin and sustain the Anglican Church in Virginia during the two years he was there. He wrote: “Now because I have spoke so much of the body, give me leave to say something of the soul, and the rather because I have been often demanded by so many how we began to preach the Gospel in Virginia, and by what authority, what churches we had, our order of service, and maintenance of our ministers, therefore I think it not amiss to satisfy their demands, it being the mother of all our plantations.” The Jamestown colonists established Church as they knew it the best way they knew how: “When I first went to Virginia, I well remember, we did hang an awning (which is an old sail) to three or four trees to shadow us from the sun, our walls were rails of wood, our seats unhewed trees till we cut planks; our pulpit a bar of wood nailed to two neighboring trees; in foul weather we shifted into an old rotten tent, for we had few better.” “This was our church, till we built a homely thing like a barn, set upon cratchets, covered with rafts, sedge and earth; so was also the walls; the best of our houses (were) of the like curiosity, but the most part far much worse workmanship, that neither could well defend wind nor rain, yet we had daily Common Prayer morning and evening, every Sunday two sermons, and every three months the holy Communion, till our minister died. But our prayers daily with an homily on Sundays, we continued two or three years after, till more preachers came.”[12]

            Contemplating the continuing growth of Anglicanism in England, Smith worried that such would not be the case in New England, and counseled readers of his Advertisements in what he considered to be the true approach to Christianity, both in England and in America. Smith thought that the strength in Christianity lay in its unity to a common creed and unified authority, both of which were found only in “one God, one Christ, one Church”–of England of course. Dissensions from the Church splintered the belief, making it prey to non-Christians.[13]

            The Stuart kings who granted charters for colonies made the Great Commission a priority of colonization. For example when James I granted Virginia a new charter in 1612, he declared the purpose of the colony was “for the Propagation of Christian Religion, and Reclaiming of People barbarous, to Civility and Humanity.”[14] The Virginia Company declared their intention, in True and Sincere Declaration of the Purposes and Ends of the Plantation “to preach and baptize into Christian religion, and by the propagation the Gospell, to recover out of the arms of the Divell a number of poore and miserable soules, wrapt up unto death, in almost invincible ignorance.”[15] The 1662 edition of the Book of Common Prayer, published during the reign of Charles II, prayed: “GOD, the Creator and Preserver of all mankind, we humbly beseech thee for all sorts and conditions of men: that thou wouldest be pleased to make thy ways known unto them, thy saving health unto all nations.”[16]

            Alexander Whitaker, the so-called Apostle of Virginia, who pastored to Smith at Jamestown, wrote Good News from Virginia in 1613, proclaiming in the Dedication that Virginia is a “godly Plantation.” Whitaker compared the English fighting to spread the Gospel in the New World with the early Apostles spreading the Word in the wake of Pentecost. God’s Providence underlies the English colonization of Virginia. Whitaker argued that good works are the foundation for the colony’s success. Good works are a sanctifying process for the English, who are not unique in their ability to be converted to an understanding of the gospel. The American Indians, Whitaker wrote, although hitherto worshipers of Satan, are like Europeans descended from Adam; “they have reasonable souls and intellectual faculties as well as wee,” and are as convertible to Christianity as the English were in the distant past of their idolatry. “The promise of God,” he wrote, “is without respect of person.” Like the promise God made to Israel, if the English conform to God’s wishes then He will bless their endeavors.[17]

            John Smith shared Whitaker’s view about the importance of good works, and the role of Providence in human affairs. “If you but truly consider how many strange accidents have befallen those plantations and my self,” he wrote in Advertisements, [you] “cannot but conceive Gods infinite mercy both to them and me.” Smith saw himself as a playing an important role in acting upon the Great Commission. God’s “omnipotent power onely delivered me to doe the utmost of my best to make his name knowne in those remote parts of the world.”[18]

             Of course, published works are always suspect as a guide to feelings and personal motives, and historians are rightly suspicious to put too much value in the words of a man so concerned with his personal reputation as was Smith. At the same time, people of Jacobean England often wore their hearts on their sleeves, and Smith in particular was a passionate man who could scarcely hide his feelings of anger, despair, hope, and faith. As his published works, and those of his contemporaries, are all that we have to go on with which to reconstruct his life and work, it is best to scrutinize his words and to get under his skin, as it were, to discover who was the real John Smith, and what were his motives. I believe that historians who empathize with the past, to engage in a dialogue with past humans, can reach a level of understanding that echos, fairly accurately, what really happened.[19]

            At the same time one must always be on guard against unintentional anachronism. It is all too easy to judge people in the past by means of what happened after their deaths, and what their actions led to in time. This is particularly true of the relationships between Europeans and the American Indians. The horrible things that happened to American Indians cannot be forgotten: the spread of disease among them, brought by the invaders; the aggression in words and actions of the invaders toward the Indians; the destruction of a way of life over the course of centuries. Humans do not, however, always know what their actions will result in. Do you and I know what our words and behavior will lead to in ten years, twenty years, or further in time? No, and neither did Smith and his contemporaries. Smith could not peer ahead in time to see a future United States of America, a future of Indian despair, a future of what has come to be called “cultural genocide” perpetrated by whites against the Indians. He can hardly be held to blame. His worldview was circumscribed by his experiences and the experiences of the English up to that time. He was born right after the Spanish Armada and grew up knowing how precarious was England’s position in the world. He was born at a time when Elizabeth I was attempting to solidify the foundation of the Church of England against a strong Roman Catholic presence and growing Puritan presence in England. In his world, Christians were still struggling to compete against each other as well as other religious systems, the believers of which were aggressive and just as convinced that they knew the truth. The Great Commission was still very much a commandment yet to be realized. Smith lived before Biblical exegesis of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries brought people to doubt the infallibility of the Bible as well as the constancy of Divine Providence in human affairs. To Smith, God was watching his actions even as He compelled time forward and Christ was the Savior welcoming a valiant man home after the work of his life was complete. Civilization as Smith knew it was Christian—there were few if any alternatives. Jesus commanded the spread of His Word and who was Smith or any one else to challenge Him? The Indians were not civilized, that is, not Christian, did not make proper use of the land, and it was inconceivable to Smith that they would want to be left alone. As he wrote in the General History: “But we chanced in a Land even as God made it, where we found onely an idle, improvident, scattered people, ignorant of the knowledge of gold or silver, or any commodities, and carelesse of any thing but from hand to mouth, except bables of no worth; nothing to incourage us, but what accidentally we found Nature afforded. Which ere we could bring to recompence our paines, defray our charges, and satisfie our Adventurers; we were to discover the Countrey, subdue the people, bring them to be tractable, civill, and industrious, and teach them trades, that the fruits of their labours might make us some recompence, or plant such Colonies of our owne, that must first make provision how to live of themselves, ere they can bring to perfection the commodities of the Country.”[20]

            In short, John Smith had little reason to hide his true motives or deceive his readers in the General History and his other works, for he wrote in the shadow of God’s grace, and could scarcely evade the searcher of hearts. He lived his life aware of Providence and aware that at some point he would have to account for his deeds. England was an Elect Nation that was clearly appointed by God according to His pleasure that at this time in human history the English were to settle America, make it productive, Christianize the native people, and bring them into the orbit of English civilization.

            John Smith’s writings provide a perfect inside look into the motives for exploration and colonization, in which we find that alongside the expansion of English power and wealth is the spread of Christianity. Brute force and the pursuit of wealth and power were insufficient justifications; the teachings of Christ were after all the cornerstone of Elizabethan and Jacobean culture. Smith’s writings shows that the spread of Christianity had to be a foundation in the mix of English exploration and colonization.

            The Christian/Anglican worldview was so much a part of each person’s fundamental assumptions about life and work that the English explorers were, like religious leaders in England, completely wedded to the idea that the expansion of English power had to be accompanied by the Great Commission, that it was a fundamental justification for expansion and conquest. The Great Commission here was not merely a convenient excuse, window-dressing to justify more nefarious motives, but was rather a raison d’etre for exploration and colonization. 


For more, see my book, The Sea Mark: Captain John Smith’s Voyage to New England available at The Seamark: Captain John Smith’s Voyage to New England | Ash Hill Publishing

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Christian Missionaries–Books to Read

I am a historian, and one of my favorite topics to write on is the Christian missionary experience in America.
I have just reissued a book about Baptist missionaries in America, particularly in Oklahoma: “Marking the Jesus Road: Bacone College through the Years.”
This is the story of Bacone College, founded as Indian University in 1880. Bacone College in Muskogee, Oklahoma, reached out to the American Indians of Oklahoma and beyond to provide a Christian liberal arts education. The initial goal of the college was to train missionaries, but as time passed the college embrace students from dozens of tribes to provide a primary, secondary, and college education. Bacone College recently closed in its 145th year due to mismanagement and poor decision-making by administrators and trustees. But its legacy remains for those thousands the school educated over so many years. It was a school that showed that missionary work to the American Indian did not have to be brutal and heart-rending, rather a good, productive experience that many alumni looked fondly back on. The narrative is told with an emphasis on the stories of those students over the many decades: their learning, their writings, their general experiences in this small college in Creek Nation, Oklahoma. See Marking the Jesus Road: Bacone College through the Years | Ash Hill Publishing

Another book I’ve written, which is forthcoming in August 2026, to be published by Bloomsbury, is “American Catholics.” Beginning with North America’s contact with three imperialist powers (Spain, France, and England), this narrative account tells the story of how Catholicism became and continues to be part of the basic religious and cultural fiber of North America. The book follows a narrative chronological and thematic format, focusing on people, events, practices, social and cultural phenomena, and institutions. People discussed include the well-known, such as Christopher Columbus and Junipero Serra, and the not-so-well-known, such as Juniper Berthiaume and Jean Louis Berlandier.
With 32 chapters divided into 7 parts and all drawing on primary sources, this book engages with topics such as the overwhelming violence against Indigenous people and the religion’s role in wars, politics, and modern-day culture–but also, in the basic love for the American Indians that most Roman Catholic missionaries had. See https://www.amazon.com/American-Catho…
In my extensive research on missionaries, I have discovered that they were generally good people who simply wanted to introduce people to God–nothing more. An example is Daniel Little, a Protestant clergyman in 18th century Maine. Naturalist, scientist, pastor, missionary, Daniel Little became known as the “Apostle of the East” by his contemporaries and admirers for his many missionary journeys along Maine’s eastern frontier. He spent much of his life ministering to the English settlers and Indians of the Penobscot valley. See Apostle of the East–soft cover | Ash Hill Publishing

A surprising person who you would not consider a missionary, yet he believed he was one, was Captain John Smith. See this side to him in The Sea Mark: Captain John Smith’s Voyage to New England: https://ash-hill-publishing.square.site/product/the-seamark-captain-john-smith-s-voyage-to-new-england/3JRKUU7G76G7HYTWCBP7U7TF?si=true

Find out a side to American history that is often portrayed negatively but rather is positive and a joy to learn about. Happy reading!

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Robert Hamilton, Baptist Missionary, and the Jesus Road

Robert Hamilton, a friend and associate of Mary P. Jayne and Joseph S. Murrow, was one of the first missionaries sent by the American Baptist Home Mission Society to western Oklahoma; Hamilton worked with the Cheyenne and Arapaho people from the 1890s to the 1920s. Hamilton, who had been ordained a Baptist missionary in 1892, was a man of tremendous drive and devotion, energy and patience, curiosity and courage. He, like other missionaries in Oklahoma before and after statehood, cared for the indigenous people, whom he considered to be like children; he was their missionary father, and indeed the Indians themselves adopted the designations of “children” and “father” when addressing him. Hamilton understood that “the Indians are by nature religious, mystical, ritualistic, reverent,” as he wrote in The Gospel Among the Red Man, a partially autobiographical account of Baptist missionary activities in nineteenth- and early twentieth-century America. “It is one of the evidences of the divine nature of the gospel, and of the efficiency of the Holy Spirit to ‘guide into all truth,’ that the missionary to a primitive people, with an unskilled interpreter, can get the message to them, and the resultant surprising grasp they have of divine truth.” In the manuscript account, Sketch of Work Among Cheyennes and Arapahos, Hamilton narrated in third person the scene when in 1892 he began to meet with the Cheyennes: 

These Indians had only nineteen years before quit the warpath, and were living in the midst of a people, who if they had understood them, might have been a great blessing and help to them, but who viewed them with suspicion, and only visited their camps out of curiosity or to trade with them. For these reasons, they continued to live apart from their white neighbors, practicing, in Hamilton’s view, the most disgusting of heathen customs in the name of religion. Mr. Hamilton attended an Indian burial, at which a woman cut gashes in her arms and legs for the dead, until the blood ran down to the ground. He saw women, who in their grief for their children, had cut off a joint of their fingers one after another until their hands were but stubs. 

More astonishing was the Sun Dance ceremony “at which twenty men stripped of all their clothing, danced continuously for three days and nights without food or water. . . . Others had places cut in their breasts, and a skewer put through under a muscle, and this tied to a rope which was attached to a central pole of the dance lodge. Throwing their weight upon the rope, they would dance until the muscles were torn out.” He also witnessed the Ghost Dance, “where all night long, they formed a large circle, going round and round keeping step to the weird, plaintive music as they sang their Messianic songs. He saw a woman go inside the circle and stand for more than an hour with her hands stretched out toward the north, praying most fervently, while the tears ran down her face, pleading for the coming of the Indian Messiah. Her tone and posture expressed the most intense longing. Finally exhausted, she fell in a swoon.”

Into this environment, Hamilton came preaching the Gospel, comparing himself to the Apostle Paul. Although Hamilton was vain and full of himself, he nevertheless believed wholeheartedly in the Great Commission given by Christ to His disciples. Delivering the Gospel was the sole object to him, and he and his family endured privation and the environmental extremes of western Oklahoma to succeed in this self-appointed goal. Hamilton witnessed the conflict and confusion that the Cheyennes and Arapahoes experienced over the correct path to happiness: the traditional road or the Jesus Road. He heard firsthand accounts from Indian men and women, a few of whom could speak English; for others, Hamilton relied on interpreters, such as the Cheyennes Philip Cook and Moore Vanhorn, the latter of whom was an early convert and enthusiastic Christian, despite having suffered many wrongs in his youth at the hands of white soldiers. In the manuscript pamphlet Christmas with the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, Hamilton described the anguish of two women, who had been through much sorrow because of personal loss of family, including their children: “One who had lost her son said that when he died, she had been tempted to throw away the Jesus Road, and take up again her old heathen religion, but that now she could see that it was better to trust in Jesus, and that she could see that His way was right, she asked the church to forgive her for her sinful thoughts, and promised to walk in the ‘Road’ more carefully.” In the manuscript Sketch of Work Among the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, Hamilton described the personal experience of “one old man,” who “told the missionary that in the olden times it was thought an honorable thing to steal from those who were not their friends, and the man who could steal the most horses and cattle, and thus make the best feasts and presents to his people, had the greatest respect. . . . How Jesus had changed his heart from that way of doing[!] Now he had learned to love his enemies, and to do good to all men, and his life bears out his testimony.” In the same manuscript, Hamilton described how some Cheyennes, “who started in the way ‘went back and walked no more with Him’,” and began to persecute those who stayed on the Jesus Road. Such antagonists rejected Christians who were to join a delegation of the tribe going to Washington because they considered the Christian Cheyenne to be too close to the white man, and therefore influenced in the wrong way by Christianity. Moreover, “Christians were told by the Ghost Dance prophets that when the Indian Messiah came and restored the Indians and the buffalo, that all the Indians, who were found in the white man’s religion, would be destroyed with the white people.” Even so, some Ghost Dancers, such as the Arapaho, Hail, in time rejected their beliefs to follow the Jesus Road. The Plains Indian “medicine man,” however, graced with the knowledge of the mystical selection of himself to influence the powers of nature, was less inclined to renounce his pagan beliefs, and was the most formidable opponent of Indian converts. Hamilton recorded the case of a Cheyenne “medicine man” who went so far as to hex a Christian Indian couple: “this medicine man had an arrow, called the arrow of jealousy or hate. When dipped in a certain preparation known only to the fraternity, and shot in the direction of his victim, though miles away, the substance would search him out, and his destruction was certain.” Hamilton rode miles to find the couple, then told them that the medicine man’s threats were the work of Satan (Eahwo), and believers in Christ could put off Satan. “After prayer they were able to cast off the delusion, and peace of mind was restored.”

               Hamilton recounted another example of religious change among the Cheyennes of Oklahoma: “[One] old man . . . on being received for baptism, related the following touching incident. ‘The first religious act that impressed itself on my childish mind [the old man recounted], was when a small boy on my mother’s back. At that time my mother made an offering of two buffalo robes to the Great Spirit, and prayed for me, asking that I might live and grow up to be a good man. Later when I was a young man, I met a white man with a kind face and a soft voice, who told me that I ought to love and worship Jesus. He gave me this[–the old man drew] from his breast a crucifix, which he wore next his skin, under his shirt, attached to a string about his neck . . . and told me always to keep it. I have worn it over my heart ever since. I do not pray to it, but have kept it to remind me of the good man and his words. When the missionaries came to our reservation, I was glad to learn that they knew about this same Jesus. I never miss an opportunity to hear them tell about Him, and I was glad when I learned that I could be His friend and follower’.”

The Plains Indians of western Oklahoma discovered, in the words of the missionary, explanations for human behavior, for mistakes and doubts, for unhappiness and suffering. Even the fiercest warriors sought to be embraced in overwhelming love. The closest experiences to such love that tribal beliefs offered were the promises of happiness in the next life, or the benevolence of the Great Spirit, or the means by which nature nourished, clothed, and sheltered them. The Kiowa Sanco adapted the natural theology inherent in Christianity to his own experiences of delight and satisfaction when finding a pure stream of bright, crystal water, or when coming from out of the darkness of a spring thunderstorm into the broad horizon of the plains covered by the ubiquitous rays of the sun. Not only did Christianity emphasize the importance of natural history in the scheme of redemption, but one’s personal physical and spiritual experiences were known to God, who watched to see whether or not these peripatetic people would keep to the Jesus Road, eschewing all other roads as distractions of ignorance, hubris, and idleness.

For more on the Baptist missionaries of Oklahoma, see Marking the Jesus Road: Bacone College through the Years, newly republished in January 2026 and available at Marking the Jesus Road: Bacone College through the Years | Ash Hill Publishing

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Mary P. Jayne, Baptist Missionary, and the Jesus Road

Mary P. Jayne was long-time Baptist missionary to the American Indians, particularly the Arapaho, Cheyenne, and Pawnee. She dedicated her life to directing American Indians, particularly in Oklahoma, along the Jesus Road.

Jayne grew up in Iowa in the Baptist heritage, though there was no church nearby. Her parents owned “an old brown book of Indian stories. By the dim light of the oil lamp she pored over the incidents that told of the life of the Red Man, and there grew in her heart a great love for that people and a longing to see the scenes pictured in the stories.” Later teaching at a small school in Nebraska, “her path to the school . . . led her over the very ground on which Cheyennes, Arapahoes and Pawnees had fought their battles since time immemorial, and down through a wooded ravine their fallen warriors were buried. It was a daily echo of the call to take the gospel to the Indians.” She taught in Iowa from 1891 to 1893 and worked as a missionary in Chicago before attending the Baptist Missionary Training School. From 1896 to 1913, she was a missionary to the Cheyennes and Arapahoes of western Oklahoma, working with Robert Hamilton. The day she first joined Hamilton to visit the Indians, it seemed to her “like a picture from her old brown book come to life”; “she felt as if she, too, were in a story, for it was awfully hard to realize that at last her dreams of telling the story of Jesus to the Indians was a reality.” Work among the Cheyennes was difficult in part because of their poverty and anguish, and difficulty in letting go of the old ways. It required perseverance and stamina; Jayne worked among the Cheyenne and Arapaho for almost twenty years, then worked among the Pawnees and Otoes of north-central Oklahoma until 1924; during this time she also “was director of the Christian work in the Chilocco Indian School.”

In 1924 she moved to Bacone, where she became Barnett Hall matron. Her room at Barnett had a library that “is one of the most valuable in existence on Indian history and tradition. By those who know, she is accounted one of the best informed persons on Indian life and history.” Jayne was a dormitory matron for boys of Barnett Hall. According to one story, printed in the Bacone Indian in 1929, the Barnett boys were constantly sneaking about after hours, getting together to tell funny stories and laugh. “Suddenly a weird whisper comes from the lookout, ‘Miss Jayne.’ the words fairly crackle and hiss down the hall. As if by magic, the hall is empty. Boys vanish into the nearest doorways like rats into their holes. Once inside, they seek refuge in bed, behind doors, in closets and any other available places. Woe be unto the poor lad who is caught in the hall. Such a tongue-lashing as he does get!” Miss Jayne dealt with boys from numerous tribes.

Jayne retired from her work at Bacone in 1933, moving to California to try to rebuild her failing health. The traveling Red Men’s Glee Club of the College visited her in the summer 1934; homesick, she returned to Bacone in January, 1935, to live in a small two room house that was newly built by her. Immediately upon arriving, she suffered illness requiring hospitalization. She recovered to live two more years, dying January 5, 1937; she was buried in the Bacone cemetery. The funeral was in the Bacone chapel, conducted by President Weeks, with the students singing her favorite hymns. Of the pallbearers—Lewis Rhodd, Roy Gourd, Acee Blue Eagle, Jack White, Richard and Harvey West—Rhodd, Gourd, and Blue Eagle were former students, now faculty at Bacone, while the latter three “were sons of Cheyenne and Arapaho parents whom she had served in earlier years.”

She left “a considerable sum” of her savings “to the Home Mission Society for the training of Indian youth at Bacone College”; her valuable papers recounting her days as a missionary in Oklahoma were preserved in the Indian Room of the Bacone College library.

The above narrative is taken from Marking the Jesus Road: Bacone College through the Years, newly republished in January 2026 and available at Marking the Jesus Road: Bacone College through the Years | Ash Hill Publishing

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