Documents of Freedom: Day 2—“The freemen have assented.”

The Maryland Toleration Act (1649): “To preserve mutual love and amity amongst the inhabitants”

“Toleration” here is a bit of an overstatement. This one impressed my kids. It has many problems—like the death penalty for taking the Lord's name in vain.  But, it protected citizens from the charge of “heresy” and was the beginning of the notion of religious freedom in America and, therefore, a step in the right direction.

If I’m short on time (which I was this week), I just read paragraphs 2 and 6 (in bold here). Love the ending: “The freemen have assented.”

An Act Concerning Religion.

Forasmuch as in a well governed and Christian Common Weath matters concerning Religion and the honor of God ought in the first place to bee taken, into serious consideracion and endeavoured to bee settled, Be it therefore ordered and enacted by the Right Honourable Cecilius Lord Baron of Baltemore absolute Lord and Proprietary of this Province with the advise and consent of this Generall Assembly:

That whatsoever person or persons within this Province and the Islands thereunto belonging shall from henceforth blaspheme God, that is Curse him, or deny our Saviour Jesus Christ to bee the sonne of God, or shall deny the holy Trinity the father sonne and holy Ghost, or the Godhead of any of the said Three persons of the Trinity or the Unity of the Godhead, or shall use or utter any reproachfull Speeches, words or language concerning the said Holy Trinity, or any of the said three persons thereof, shalbe punished with death and confiscation or forfeiture of all his or her lands and goods to the Lord Proprietary and his heires.

And bee it also Enacted by the Authority and with the advise and assent aforesaid, That whatsoever person or persons shall from henceforth use or utter any reproachfull words or Speeches concerning the blessed Virgin Mary the Mother of our Saviour or the holy Apostles or Evangelists or any of them shall in such case for the first offence forfeit to the said Lord Proprietary and his heirs Lords and Proprietaries of this Province the summe of five pound Sterling or the value thereof to be Levyed on the goods and chattells of every such person soe offending, but in case such Offender or Offenders, shall not then have goods and chattells sufficient for the satisfyeing of such forfeiture, or that the same bee not otherwise speedily satisfyed that then such Offender or Offenders shalbe publiquely whipt and bee imprisoned during the pleasure of the Lord Proprietary or the Lieutenant or cheife Governor of this Province for the time being. And that every such Offender or Offenders for every second offence shall forfeit tenne pound sterling or the value thereof to bee levyed as aforesaid, or in case such offender or Offenders shall not then have goods and chattells within this Province sufficient for that purpose then to bee publiquely and severely whipt and imprisoned as before is expressed. And that every person or persons before mentioned offending herein the third time, shall for such third Offence forfeit all his lands and Goods and bee for ever banished and expelled out of this Province.

And be it also further Enacted by the same authority advise and assent that whatsoever person or persons shall from henceforth uppon any occasion of Offence or otherwise in a reproachful manner or Way declare call or denominate any person or persons whatsoever inhabiting, residing, traffiqueing, trading or comerceing within this Province or within any the Ports, Harbors, Creeks or Havens to the same belonging an heritick, Scismatick, Idolator, puritan, Independant, Prespiterian popish prest, Jesuite, Jesuited papist, Lutheran, Calvenist, Anabaptist, Brownist, Antinomian, Barrowist, Roundhead, Separatist, or any other name or terme in a reproachfull manner relating to matter of Religion shall for every such Offence forfeit and loose the somme of tenne shillings sterling or the value thereof to bee levyed on the goods and chattells of every such Offender and Offenders, the one half thereof to be forfeited and paid unto the person and persons of whom such reproachfull words are or shalbe spoken or uttered, and the other half thereof to the Lord Proprietary and his heires Lords and Proprietaries of this Province. But if such person or persons who shall at any time utter or speake any such reproachfull words or Language shall not have Goods or Chattells sufficient and overt within this Province to bee taken to satisfie the penalty aforesaid or that the same bee not otherwise speedily satisfyed, that then the person or persons soe offending shalbe publickly whipt, and shall suffer imprisonment without baile or maineprise [bail] untill hee, shee or they respectively shall satisfy the party soe offended or greived by such reproachfull Language by asking him or her respectively forgivenes publiquely for such his Offence before the Magistrate of cheife Officer or Officers of the Towne or place where such Offence shalbe given.

And be it further likewise Enacted by the Authority and consent aforesaid That every person and persons within this Province that shall at any time hereafter prophane the Sabbath or Lords day called Sunday by frequent swearing, drunkennes or by any uncivill or disorderly recreacion, or by working on that day when absolute necessity doth not require it shall for every such first offence forfeit 2s 6d sterling or the value thereof, and for the second offence 5ssterling or the value thereof, and for the third offence and soe for every time he shall offend in like manner afterwards 10s sterling or the value thereof. And in case such offender and offenders shall not have sufficient goods or chattells within this Province to satisfy any of the said Penalties respectively hereby imposed for prophaning the Sabbath or Lords day called Sunday as aforesaid, That in Every such case the partie soe offending shall for the first and second offence in that kinde be imprisoned till hee or shee shall publickly in open Court before the cheife Commander Judge or Magistrate, of that County Towne or precinct where such offence shalbe committed acknowledg the Scandall and offence he hath in that respect given against God and the good and civill Governement of this Province, And for the third offence and for every time after shall also bee publickly whipt.

And whereas the inforceing of the conscience in matters of Religion hath frequently fallen out to be of dangerous Consequence in those commonwealthes where it hath been practised, And for the more quiett and peaceable governement of this Province, and the better to preserve mutuall Love and amity amongst the Inhabitants thereof, Be it Therefore also by the Lord Proprietary with the advise and consent of this Assembly Ordeyned and enacted (except as in this present Act is before Declared and sett forth) that noe person or persons whatsoever within this Province, or the Islands, Ports, Harbors, Creekes, or havens thereunto belonging professing to beleive in Jesus Christ, shall from henceforth bee any waies troubled, Molested or discountenanced for or in respect of his or her religion nor in the free exercise thereof within this Province or the Islands thereunto belonging nor any way compelled to the beleife or exercise of any other Religion against his or her consent, soe as they be not unfaithfull to the Lord Proprietary, or molest or conspire against the civill Governement established or to bee established in this Province under him or his heires. And that all and every person and persons that shall presume Contrary to this Act and the true intent and meaning thereof directly or indirectly either in person or estate willfully to wrong disturbe trouble or molest any person whatsoever within this Province professing to beleive in Jesus Christ for or in respect of his or her religion or the free exercise thereof within this Province other than is provided for in this Act that such person or persons soe offending, shalbe compelled to pay trebble damages to the party soe wronged or molested, and for every such offence shall also forfeit 20ssterling in money or the value thereof, half thereof for the use of the Lord Proprietary, and his heires Lords and Proprietaries of this Province, and the other half for the use of the party soe wronged or molested as aforesaid, Or if the partie soe offending as aforesaid shall refuse or bee unable to recompense the party soe wronged, or to satisfy such fyne or forfeiture, then such Offender shalbe severely punished by publick whipping and imprisonment during the pleasure of the Lord Proprietary, or his Lieutenant or cheife Governor of this Province for the tyme being without baile or maineprise.

And bee it further alsoe Enacted by the authority and consent aforesaid That the Sheriff or other Officer or Officers from time to time to bee appointed and authorized for that purpose, of the County Towne or precinct where every particular offence in this present Act conteyned shall happen at any time to bee committed and whereupon there is hereby a forfeiture fyne or penalty imposed shall from time to time distraine and seise the goods and estate of every such person soe offending as aforesaid against this present Act or any part thereof, and sell the same or any part thereof for the full satisfaccion of such forfeiture, fine, or penalty as aforesaid, Restoring unto the partie soe offending the Remainder or overplus of the said goods or estate after such satisfaccion soe made as aforesaid.

The freemen have assented.

Documents of Freedom Week: Day 1

The Mayflower Compact: Signed November 11, 1620

Our Documents of Freedom Week started on Sunday—leading into July 4th for the big doc. This is an excellent opportunity for my kids to do a whole lot of eye-rolling and groaning about how they’re the “ONLY ONES” (very common refrain over here) who have to read 400-year-old documents.

So, here’s the first doc: The Mayflower Compact: Signed November 11, 1620
One of these years, I’m going to back up to 1215 and read the Magna Carta, but the Mayflower Compact is nice and short which helps to lower the coefficient of freakout for family reading.

The original document was lost, but the transcriptions in Mourt's Relation and William Bradford's journal Of Plymouth Plantation are in agreement and accepted as accurate. Bradford's hand written manuscript is kept in a special vault at the State Library of Massachusetts.^[4] Bradford's transcription is as follows:

In the name of God, Amen. We whose names are underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread Sovereign Lord King James, by the Grace of God of Great Britain, France and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, etc.Having undertaken, for the Glory of God and advancement of the Christian Faith and Honour of our King and Country, a Voyage to plant the First Colony in the Northern Parts of Virginia, do by these presents solemnly and mutually in the presence of God and one of another, Covenant and Combine ourselves together into a Civil Body Politic, for our better ordering and preservation and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof to enact, constitute and frame such just and equal Laws, Ordinances, Acts, Constitutions and Offices, from time to time, as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the general good of the Colony, unto which we promise all due submission and obedience. In witness whereof we have hereunder subscribed our names at Cape Cod, the 11th of November, in the year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord King James, of England, France and Ireland the eighteenth, and of Scotland the fifty-fourth. Anno Domini 1620.^[5][3]

Love that first sentence!

____________________________

The Stinking Dead Fish of Storytelling

Sorry, everyone. You already read this. It was my first blog post back in 2008. I was just trying to clean up the ridiculous formatting mess, and somehow I managed to re-post it. . . Now, on with your day.

I want to love opera . . . really, I do. I love the soaring arias, the rich baritone voices, grand choruses blasting me with the glory of the music—so much excellence and effort represented in every production, many lifetimes of practice and rehearsal on stage.

Beyond the music, I love the extravagant sets, the dazzling costumes! So many sensory pleasures crammed into a single event.

Are you convinced? I really want to love opera. And, I do . . . except for one tiny detail . . . the plots. Or, I should say, "the lack of plot." Opera plots stink. They are the dead fish of storytelling.

Honestly, with the amount of effort and money that went into those grand operas, couldn't anyone have thrown a few bones at a decent writer to put some story into it? Why not? Why pretend we're telling a story (sets, costumes, the fog machines for the love of Pete!), when we have to trudge through the misery of the opera plot?

Opera-lovers will call me a Philistine. How pedestrian to need a plot—and obtuse! But, please look with fresh eyes at one of the greatest—the very best that the opera world produced: Verdi's Aida.

(Sorry, Wagner will not even get an honorable mention here—nothing for the man who sweats syrup.)

I just saw a delightful production last week done by Utah Festival Opera. The performance was impeccable: brilliant soloists, huge choruses, exquisite sets—three intermissions! But, the excellent production couldn't overcome the congenital problem—the defect of birth—no plot! Nothing happens on stage--literally. The opera goes (roughly) like this:

• Collection of people on stage singing: La, Laaa. Something happened before the curtain came up, there was a battle, we are patriotic. Egypt is great. Aida fell in love. Things happened, but you missed it, because it all happened before this opera began. Ahaaaaaaaa!
  
• Re-arrange the same collection of people: Aaah, aaaah. I love Radames, but I long for my homeland. I'll never be happy.
  
• Turn set upside down for different look. Add another group of people (same guys, different costumes)—still everyone standing around doing nothing: Hark! Ethopian slaves! Aida's father is one of them. We're very sad. We long for our homeland.
  
• Re-arrange again: There was another battle. You missed it because it happened during intermission, but Radamses won again. BIG, AMAZING CHORUS—sounds like the end. . . (psych!)
  
• Out of love for Aida, Radamses accidentally reveals plans for the next battle. (Okay, I concede something did happen here.)
  He's condemned (offstage again) to die for his treason by being buried alive in a tomb. Oooohh, Oh!
• Aida sneaks into the tomb so they can die there together. Biggest opera of all time ends with the dying stars singing a diminishing duet. (No way is this the end!)
  

I left out all the meandering with the extraneous love interest that comes to nothing. (Gotta have something for the mezzo.)

You call that a story? I'm telling you, the opera emperor is naked, and we continue to shell out $50 a ticket (I sit in the cheap seats) for NO PLOT!

An Idea

I propose a solution to the stinking opera plot. (If I ever come into great sums of money, I will oversee this myself.) We need to rehabilitate the grand operas. Pay some seriously good writers to take the brilliant music of the masters and give us a good story already! So when it's over, we're truly satisfied—catharsis. Our bearings are reset, and we're ready to step back into life, revitalized, ready to live and love.

Is that too much to ask?

With the glorious music, it should be a cinch. Take, for example, La Boheme, the most pathetic of them all, where the brilliant-music-to-crappy-plot ratio soars the highest, and the characters are so pathetic, you can't care about them at all. (Please . . . stay with me here . . . )

Mimi the seamstress is "co-habitating" with Rudolfo the poet and his student friends. They're all poor—too poor, in fact, for Rudolpho to pay for medical care when Mimi contracts the dreaded consumption. She coughs and coughs and Rudolfo sings that he can't stand to be with her anymore—her coughing drives him crazy and reminds him that he can't provide for her. (What a guy!) They agree to split up in the spring. (This is supposed to be romantic somehow. Go figure.) Mimi moves in with a viscount, but leaves him too (What a girl!) and wanders the streets until Rudolfo hears that she's homeless. He takes her back just in time for them to sing a glorious duet before she dies. (How noble!) The opera ends and we pretend that those people were worth all that breath. (Did you hear the thud?)

Imagine, now that Stephenie Meyer gets her hands on Puccini's music, and instead of the wimpy, Rudolpho, whining about Mimi's illness, we have the noble, self-sacrificing Edward, in all his luxurious restraint, coming to the rescue. Think of the tension that would snap into those soprano-tenor duets if they included Edward's thirst for Bella's blood, his longing for her scent and the tremor of her heartbeat. Instead of the village scenes, the school and Phoenix airport. Instead of the courtyard, the forest. Appealing, isn't it?

I know this would work.

Imagine that Orson Scott Card put Ender's Shadow into The Magic Flute! Honestly, I have no idea how that would work, but I'm confident that OSC could pull it off beautifully, and I'll bet he could do it without the misogyny.

Give Tosca to Frank McCourt, Turandot to Jeannette Walls, and to lighten it up, we could beg the great one, JK Rowling, to re-do Faustus. And to be sure we've covered the whole spectrum, let Dave Barry re-write Gianni Schicchi—oh the humanity!

The writer in me screams for justice, but like any addict, I'll continue to feed on a drug I can't afford because I can't stay away from the music—I love it too much!

Theological Landmines . . . or . . . Questions I Hadn't Anticipated

"How come we all get to get resurrected but not babies in tummies?"

Yes, I got that question today. Eden was serious and I had no answer.

It snuck up on me. She started with, "When will your baby get resurrected?"
"Well, I don't think she gets resurrected. . . . I mean, she wasn't all the way a baby. I think. But, I did see her arms and legs moving. . .  I have no idea."

And, then I can see that "no fair" look on her face, and she slams me with, "How come we all get to get resurrected but not babies in tummies?" Ahhh, the old familiar slap of theological ambivalence. (It cracks me up when I hear non-believers accuse religious people of being "so black and white." I wish!)

I swear children are born understanding the concept of resurrection. Nothing makes more sense to them than the notion that whatever/whoever has died will one day wake up and be alive again. What they can't understand is why it's taking so long.

Nancy was only four when I heard her tell a cousin, "When Grandma Nonie gets resurrected, we're going to get a dog." A long string of very rational, inductive reasoning brought her to this verity (I'll fill in another time), but what matters is, I could tell by her tone of voice that this event was absolutely secure and just around the corner in her mind.

So, I should not have been surprised that Eden wanted to nail down exactly how this resurrection business would work for our family now.

After a couple of false starts at answering, I had to end with, "We just don't know--would you like a taco?"

(I'm a coward.)

"I have chemo tomorrow. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you."

Seriously, I got an email from a friend with those exact words. And she meant it.

After three weeks of bed rest and much jubilation that I had finally stopped bleeding, I found out on Tuesday that my baby (12 weeks) no longer had a heart beat.

The pregnancy was tenuous, so it hadn't made facebook yet, but my heart had already shifted from "MOE" (mother of eight) to "MON" (mother of nine). And the kids' had done the same.

I have my few baby girl clothes in the baby slot in my closet. (Just what's left from a box that got lost and never used. Everything else I gave away.) I need to put those somewhere. And put the Pack n Play deep in the fruit room. And, the double stroller. . .

I need to adjust my plans. No baby November 30th. (David could have registered to teach at AutoDesk University that week.) No redo of the family nativity picture with a new baby. A thousand very small, almost imperceptible adjustments--together they make a wave that rolls over me and back again, an invisible tide.

As a counterwave, I have my life: too many children (read: interruptions) to keep up grief for more than a minute or two.  I also have my gift for procrastination that even reaches into grieving: just like laundry, I can actually put off my grief until I'm "in the mood" to be sad. I've been doing that fabulously while I've waited for the miscarriage to start.

I decided to lay my anxiety to rest and finally had a D&C this morning. I'm relieved. And sad. It's over. She's really gone.

On my way to bed, I ruminate on how much sadness I'll allow myself to feel when I lie down. And, then my last look at email . . . and there's that line: "I have chemo tomorrow. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help you." Oh, the blessed irony of it! It's part of a very sweet note of consolation from someone who really has reasons to complain. And, because I know the life she leads, I know she means it. She threw in the chemo comment just to explain that she'd be tied up in the morning. And, suddenly, I'm laughing and crying. . . and thinking . . .

 . . . maybe I can blog about this after all.

Thank you, Deanne, and all my D6 friends and ResponsibleWomen, and family for the many comforting words,  dinners and banana breads, watching my kids during the bed rest even though it came to nothing. You're all part of my counterwave, the sine for the cosine of my grief.

Friendship is a rich and priceless gift . . . a kind of baby. I feel wealthy!

Thank you!

(Davie, please notice: I used a math metaphor there. I'd like credit for that. Thanks.)

My Girls' Lax

We had a great game yesterday. The girls played hard. 

Fun write up here. 

Opening lines were my favorite: 

"Junior attack Nancy Linford registered a game-high five points on four goals and one assist to lead No. 17 Alta to a 17-2 victory over Park City in a Utah Lacrosse Association Division I semifinal Tuesday night at Juan Diego Catholic High School. . .

The Hawks have outscored their opponents, 269-46.

Tuesday’s game was more of the same for a team that is playing a different level than the rest of the state." 

State game on Saturday in Bountiful. 

Something for Earth Day: My Rainforest

Hi friends, this post (marriage: my rainforest) has been reposted here: 

http://guardmarriage.com/marriage-politics 

I have to take it off my blog, so it won't impact the other site's search results for being repeat content. I've just left the ending here, since they didn't take it with the rest of the essay. 

Ciao!

Sally

Please, keep talking . . . "Who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe" (Milton)

 photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/neanderthal/3721585903/  

My Best Lesson Yet!

Bondage, Passover, and Exodus

That was the title of today's lesson. . . . Oh, haven't mentioned, I teach Gospel Doctrine? . . .That's because I just barely admitted it to myself (even after 6 months).

It's my bi-weekly heart attack . . . and the closest I have ever come to saying no to a calling. (fyi: in my family, saying no to a calling is roughly the equivalent of  . . . oh, I don't know what--but something awful--truly awful. And, I'm nobly passing on this fine tradition to my own children.)

Today was my best lesson ever!

I've been dreading it because it covers so much and it's so important--basically, everything between the death of Joseph and the Exodus out of Egypt--no sweat. 

Moses' miraculous rescue, his childhood as a prince of Egypt, going out to look at "his" people, defending the slave, killing the Egyptian, escape into Midian, life with Reuel/Jethro and Zipporah, children born, meeting with God, burning bush, prophetic calling, rejection by the Pharaoh and the Israelites (he had the toughest job! even worse than Gospel Doctrine teacher), 10 plagues, institution of Passover (don't forget to tie it into the Last Supper and institution of the Sacrament), gather spoils of Egypt, prep to leave, the big exit, Pillar of Fire / Cloud, walk through the Red Sea. Egypt decimated, Israel free.  

I left Sacrament Meeting during the closing hymn to set up my awesome powerpoint. Went for a quick hair check, and coming back into the room, I heard the most magical words: "I thought I had the lesson?" 

Yes! She did. I blew it. Joy! Peace! Love! (Finally, a weakness becomes a strength--calendar problems.)

I absolutely insisted that my fine partner proceed with her lesson. It was delightful. I was totally prepared and didn't have to go through with it--the greatest of all possibilities. 

I love my calling! 


Can someone please explain the freaky formatting issues in blogger? This is getting ridiculous.

Shill Sisters Conference

I don’t usually have two sisters’ conferences in one month, but somehow it happened this year.

Our Shill conference started when we met at the Assembly Hall on Temple Square for a zipping concert of the St. Michael Trio. Wow! It was perfect music and the perfect way to start our summit! I’m so mad we didn’t get a pict. We must have been too overwhelmed by the music!

We missed Elizabeth who was in Guatemala picking up Heather from her mission and Katrina who was coming up for Easter and couldn’t do the trip twice. Amy and Danae joined us Friday night and Saturday, but we never got a picture all together. Ug.

Here are a few highlights.

Sorry, Dad, I’m not great with the timer, and your mantle is to dang high!

Marsali practiced every spare minute she had, making do with the sorry accompanists who had to take turns to keep up with her.

Emily typed her recipes right up to the bitter end.

Party favors! Book about Grandma Inie (with journals of Cora Lindsay Ashton), sealing wax & signet, lemon hand soap, basil seeds, bookmark, and spatula extraordinaire.

Danae read a true life Hallmark story that her parents lived through—amazing!

Saying good-bye.

Sunday evening, Emily joined me, singing with the Draper Temple Choir for a fireside in the Tabernacle. What a place!

David and his brothers, Austin and Ray, also sang in the choir. That's Ray who looks like he's standing next to me.

Between rehearsal and fireside.

Sorry about the eyes, Em, but it was such a cute picture otherwise, I thought your public should have it. 

When Little Girls Play "Guns"

I've noticed something about little girls: their play and work involve a lot of talking. And, I mean A LOT: Talk . . . plan . . . talk some more.

Our cute neighbor boys like to play with guns. They run hard and play what looks to me like random war games: run, chase, duck, feint, serpentine, . . . rinse and repeat. From what I can tell, there is no talking required. They could be deaf and dumb without hampering the game at all.

I don't actually have toy guns--not out of any principle, just lack of interest. But Jonathan has shown the girls how anything with a right angle can be a firearm. Grab the short end and the long end transforms into a gunbarrel: K'Nex, legos, even a Barbie--bent at the waist, she's Napolean's double barrel pistol.

Today, this happened with a tabletop easel.

My easel broke in half at the hinges, making (if you're hugely creative) a perfectly matched set of handguns. Eden brought Alice into the entry for gunplay. Here's the conversation I overheard:

EDEN: "Alice, YOU stand here. . . . I'LL stand here," (3 feet apart, facing each other). "Now, you shoot me, and I shoot you." [Seriously, this had to be discussed.]
ALICE: "No, I shoot!" [This makes no sense: she's two and just needs to say 'no'.]
EDEN: "Ready, go! . . . pieou, pieou . . . pieou, pieou, . . . pieou!" [These are little girl gun sounds.]
"Now, we put our guns down and do 'Ring around the Rosies'."
[Begin rosies and posies, end gun play.]

So goes the warfare of little girls. Aren't girls great?

. . . and when the Huns show up at the border, I think I prefer the warfare of little boys. Boys are great, too!

Whatever you do, don't try to tell me it's environmental! Jonathan made his first Barbie-gun when he was two years old, back when I didn't allow guns of any kind in the house. Nice try, Mom.