Skip to main content

The Beautiful and Dead Rest (Cont.): Platypus Travels LXVIII

A word or two remains to be said about the Reverend Jedidiah Mills, the "first and faithful minister of the Gospel of Christ at Ripton".  My earlier post neglected to pieces of local lore about the good Reverend (who in an ironic twist was often called "the priest" while his Anglican opposite, the Rev. Newton, was called "parson") noted by Ripton's great historian, Jane de Forest Shelton in her master-work The Saltbox House.

The first anecdote about Reverend Mills concerns the French and Indian War.  Apparently, when news of the British Victory came by errand-rider to the village green, the Reverend was in the middle of a baptism.  The ceremony paused for a moment of general celebration, but when the elderly Reverend went back to the baptism his mind was slow to follow: he accidentally christened the baby "Victory".  The name stuck, and was even passed on to a younger cousin.

The second anecdote has an odd personal connection.  When an enthusiastic David Brainard was kicked out of Yale (probably for calling his professors "unregenerate"), he was sent a days ride westward to the sleepy town of Ripton and put under the personal care of Reverend Jedidiah Mills.  Mills counseled Brainard through the discernment process that led to the young man's missionary efforts among the Native Americans at Stockbridge.  Members of this tribe served as missionaries in their turn, some of them taking the gospel to the Oneida.  The second part of this story was a favorite of my friend and mentor, Charles Smith, a member of the Oneida tribe.  David Brainard had for him the sort of status that Saint Patrick has for us Irish-Americans.  What I never realized until Mr. Smith had passed, was that I drove by the rock where Brainard kept his prayer vigils and by the grave of his friend and mentor at least once a day all through my childhood.

I met an old Oneida in the land
Of broken promise
And he spoke of David Brainard
And a little of John Eliot.
Here we were across the world
Far from both our lands and fathers
And I’d bless him by Saint Patrick
If I were still a papist.

You see I drove by Brainard’s Rock
At least three times a day
And the gas station marks the
Place
Where he wrestled with discernment.
So in the end we both love something;
Our affinities unite us
And I’ll gladly show you round the
Place

When I cross your side of Jordan.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

SNES as Money Well Spent: Platypus Nostalgia

I got my Super Nintendo Entertainment System when I was eleven years old.  That's a couple years after it first came out.  The occasion was a little dramatic: to celebrate the end of a two-and-a-half year course of treatment for cancer.  I had no idea that it would be waiting for me at home after the final doctors visit.  It was a nice spring day, the trees were waving gently in the breeze outside the bay windows.  With a cup of tea resting on the coffee table, I set down to play.  What was that first game?  It was The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past .  Around twenty years later, my SNES still works as does that Zelda cartridge.  It's been a long way from boyhood in Southern Connecticut to manhood in North Houston, but I'm still playing. Why am I still playing?  There were stretches when I didn't.  Many times, I've just been too busy.  There were also seasons when it felt embarrassing to still be playing video games....

Under the Moon: The Platypus Reads Part LXVI

My wife and I were discussing our favorite books from the Chronicles of Narnia on our way back from lunch.  My wife, true to her sunny personality, is a staunch fan of "The Voyage of the Dawntreader."  I can't argue with that choice but, when push comes to shove, "The Silver Chair" has always been my favorite. I have a bit of a theory.  I think "The Voyage of the Dawntreader" is Lewis' grail legend.  If that's so, then I'd hazard a guess and say that "The Silver Chair" is his "Pilgrim's Progress." -just think about the shape of Puddleglum's hat and the fact that he lives in the Fen Country and you'll see what got me thinking down this line. That brings me to why I like "The Silver Chair" so much.  When I was little, we had a children's version of "Pilgrim's Progress" that my mom used to read to me.  I lived in New England and the Christianity I was raised with had a heavy tin...