Stand with Me
- Mark Travis
- Apr 7, 2024
- 4 min read
Updated: May 12, 2024
Stand with me in the shoes of Bridgett Travers in the Essex Quarterly Court in September of 1646. She hears her own heart beating, feels the eyes of her neighbors upon her, straightens her woolen tunic. She wears her everyday clothes, mustard and scarlet in color, bold and unapologetic. Bridgett’s husband, Henry, shifts his weight on the tavern house bench, arms crossed on his chest, alone, lips tight. (1) It has been a long day of waiting as other cases are heard, but the time has come. Bridgett will speak for herself, as will John Emery, that charismatic rogue. Christopher Bartlett has already testified against Bridgett and Emery both. Pressed by the judges, Bartlett was forced to acknowledge that he had not actually seen them having sex, only that he believed it to be the case. That offers some comfort; the penalty for adultery is death. Bridgett’s knees tremble. But she is strong. She steadies herself, draws a deep breath, and begins.
Take one more step back in time, just a month, and stand with me in the shoes of Jonathan Fairbanks in the First Church of Dedham on a Sunday in August of 1646. He hears his own heart beating, feels the eyes of his neighbors, straightens his linen waistcoat. He wears his Sabbath-day best, cream and white in color, unadorned, ethereal. His wife, Grace, shifts her weight on the meeting house bench, squeezes the hand of their oldest daughter, moves her lips in a silent prayer. The question at hand is whether Jonathan stands among God’s chosen, a visible saint, worthy of membership in the church. The Reverend John Allin raises his eyebrows, opens one hand, and extends it toward Jonathan, whose knees tremble. He is about to bare his soul, and he will be judged by the depth of emotion in his voice as well as the words he says, words of faith as personal as any could be. But he is strong. He steadies himself, draws a deep breath, and begins.
It’s so hard to think of our first Travis mom and our first Fairbanks dad as anything more than names on a page, so hard to feel the relevance of their lives to our own. (2) That’s why we are fortunate that two of our first ancestors in New England left what amount to footprints in the written records of their time. Jonathan’s prints are deep, showing the weight of conforming to the expectations of early Puritan New England, while Bridgett’s point to the inescapable human reality of falling short. In her case especially, to say that we are fortunate in encountering their footprints is not to say that they felt fortunate in leaving them. And while no footprint can tell you everything about the person who made it, they tell you something. For me, that’s enough to feel a sense of connection to these first American ancestors and their moment in history. Theirs are stories of belonging and betrayal, aspiration and judgment. Stories of every age, every life, including mine, every bit as relevant in your time as in theirs.
Jonathan Fairbanks, Bridgett Travers, and John Emery all joined in what historians call the Great Puritan Migration of the 1630s. Along with thousands of others, they endured a perilous ocean crossing, risking everything to establish religious havens free from the corruptions of the establishment Church of England back home. Here they created what amounted to religious communes: intimate villages so small and primitive that they had no choice but to depend on each other in their new and difficult surroundings. The Massachusetts Bay Colony, where they settled, was a profit-making venture, funded by investors back home and authorized by the king, and the immigrants who populated it carried shades of belief and various motivations to New England. But the colony itself was defined by a shared moral understanding and a sense of certainty about its purpose. Here’s how John Winthrop, who led the first group of Puritans here, put it in a sermon he delivered en route: God had chosen them to build a “Citty upon a hill” to inspire reform in England, so the eyes of the Almighty would be upon them always. Puritans amounted to non-conforming conformists, committed to what they considered the one true way of worshiping God. Their taxes supported the one minister at the one church in town. Everyone attended church every Sunday. They faced fines if they didn’t, and fines if they fell asleep in the day-long services too. Together they worshiped a deity who had already chosen some for salvation and condemned the rest to damnation. They limited membership in their churches to worthy men and women only, and only male church members enjoyed the full rights of citizenship. The sins of one reflected on all. These beliefs combined to make their innermost feelings and private behavior matters of public concern, as Bridgett and Jonathan both learned for themselves. (3)
We’ll start with Bridgett because—let’s face it—sin is more sexy than godliness, and I’d like you to keep reading.
(What now? You can jump to the top of this page, go to the full story index—or read the next story!)
Footnotes
That’s right. The court convened in a tavern. Those were the days … [Jump back]
Just to make sure the connection between past and present is clear: Travers became Travis in time, and we are descended from Bridgett through a long line of Travises. Jonathan and Grace Fairbanks produced their own long line of descendants leading to my mom, whose mother was a Fairbanks, and then to me … and you! [Jump back]
Maybe you’re wondering about the difference between the Pilgrims, who don’t figure in our family story, and the Puritans, who do. Pilgrims got here first, and in smaller numbers. They shared the same understanding of God, but they were separatists who believed the Church of England was so lost there was no saving it. They came to the New World to make a clean break. Puritans described themselves as dissenters, not separatists, and they sought to reform the establishment church from the outside in. It’s John Winthrop, who led the first Puritans here in 1630, who wrote of building that “Citty upon a Hill” to inspire an awakening in England. [Jump back]