Furnace: Roger Williams in EnglandXlibris Corporation, 2006 M06 16 - 481 pages LONDON, 1612. A dealer in cloth is being burned at the stake in a macabre ceremony of theological cleansing. He would be an ordinary man but for his willingness to die in extraordinary pain for his religious convictions. In the festive crowd stands a boy of nine--too young, some would say--to begin to comprehend the meaning of this judicial murder. But the impact of this burning will alter the boys life and sent him on an unrelenting quest for answers from his society. He is Roger Williams, future founder of Rhode Island, the sanctuary for those who would worship as they please. But it is still thousands of miles and a score of years before his thinking will take flight into the doctrine of soul liberty. The author evokes the stages of self-awareness as the young Roger gropes with doubts about the validity of a church-state collaboration. His orthodox father threatens to throw him into the street, and neither his parish church nor his schoolmasters are of any help in his search for a just and reassuring God. The random death of a beloved friend from the plague of 1623 so shocks him that he ascends an empty pulpit to admonish the Almighty. This rash confrontation does not go unnoticed by the bishops spies. From this moment he is a marked man in the eyes of the Anglican Church. But Roger has his friends as well. There is Chief Justice Edward Coke who exposes him to the world of power and who protects him from the fallout of his rashness; his brother Sydrach who introduces him to the strong waters of Dutch liberalism; and young sensible Mary Barnard who helps him back on his path after a disastrous love affair and who accompanies him across the ocean to a rendezvous with destiny. To Roger Williams belongs the honor of being the foremost advocate in the New World of the separation of church and state. For his stance in defense of religious liberty he was reviled and even exiled from his home in Massachusetts Bay colony. But how did the founder of Rhode Island colony as a refuge for non-conformists get to be the sort of person he was? This journey from a childhood at odds with father, schoolteachers and the church to the maturity of a self-possessed champion of religious freedom is carefully chronicled in this fictional autobiography. Because religious experience, more than abstract ideas, permeate the book, it makes no pretense to being a theological tract. It is instead a lucid and compelling account of a young mans climb to greatness in the confines of 17th century Jacobean England. The statue of Roger Williams stands next to Calvins in Geneva, but the central figure of this fast-paced, almost cinematic, novel, is no creature of stone. His mistakes were all too many, his self-betrayals all too frequent, but he clearly emerges as the complex, courageous apostle of non-conformity whom few of his contemporaries could tolerate, let along understand. History casts Roger Williams passionate defense of religious freedom in an age of intolerance as a landmark in the evolution of 17th century thought and practice, but this is a posthumous recognition, and the boy attending the fateful burning in 1612 could hardly anticipate where his path would lead. FURNACE takes us through the many intense confrontations that molded his revolutionary stand on the separation of church and state and helps us better to understand the relationship of our own church and state in the light of his spiritual journey |
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Page 80
... eyes kept their beautiful composure. She kissed Sydrach on the forehead and then me. “Sleep with God,” she said very simply and watched us climb the stairs out of sight. THAT MONDAY PAPA WAITED UNTIL I HAD LEFT school to 80 FURNACE.
... eyes kept their beautiful composure. She kissed Sydrach on the forehead and then me. “Sleep with God,” she said very simply and watched us climb the stairs out of sight. THAT MONDAY PAPA WAITED UNTIL I HAD LEFT school to 80 FURNACE.
Page 81
Roger Williams in England Richard Burwell. THAT. MONDAY PAPA WAITED UNTIL I HAD LEFT school to wreak his revenge on me and Mr. Willis and the world. “Check under the bed,” said Sydrach as soon as I got home. The manual, my papers, my ...
Roger Williams in England Richard Burwell. THAT. MONDAY PAPA WAITED UNTIL I HAD LEFT school to wreak his revenge on me and Mr. Willis and the world. “Check under the bed,” said Sydrach as soon as I got home. The manual, my papers, my ...
Page 88
... waited respectfully for his pencil to stop moving, but the question had to come out. “Sydrach, have you ever seen a real Indian?” “They're all real,” he replied absently. “I saw some today. On the street. They were dancing. They were ...
... waited respectfully for his pencil to stop moving, but the question had to come out. “Sydrach, have you ever seen a real Indian?” “They're all real,” he replied absently. “I saw some today. On the street. They were dancing. They were ...
Page 96
... waited a few minutes after Papa left before telling Mama we were going for a walk under the full moon. “Remember the curfew,” she said with a half-wave, rocking little Robby by the fire. Outside the moon was eating the mist off the ...
... waited a few minutes after Papa left before telling Mama we were going for a walk under the full moon. “Remember the curfew,” she said with a half-wave, rocking little Robby by the fire. Outside the moon was eating the mist off the ...
Page 97
... waited while the drawer poured the house ale. In one corner an old woman with a crucifix around her neck was playing shove-groat on a counter by herself. Hard by, two men in workday aprons were exchanging loud words. Sydrach shielded ...
... waited while the drawer poured the house ale. In one corner an old woman with a crucifix around her neck was playing shove-groat on a counter by herself. Hard by, two men in workday aprons were exchanging loud words. Sydrach shielded ...
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arms Bartholomew Legate bells Bible breath Catherine chair church corner cried dance dear desk didn’t door Drake dream Elizabeth Hatton eyes face Father Spenser feet fingers floor gave God’s hand Hatfield Broad Oak Hatton House He’s head hear heard High Laver horse I’ve Jane knew Lady Barrington Lady Hatton Lady Masham laughed London looked Lord Lord’s ma’am Mama Mama’s man’s Mary Mary Barnard matter Mayhap mind never night Papa Papa’s Pietr prayer pulpit Rachel reached Roger Williams Sepulchre’s sermon shouted side silence Sir Edward Sir William smile Smithfield someone Star Chamber steps stood stopped street sure Sydrach talk Teach tell thank Thee there’s things thought Tomocomo took turned Uncle Pem voice waited walk wall wasn’t What’s window woman words wouldn’t You’re