American Spirit

Little Josef grew weaker every day, and it was soon obvious he would not make it to the New World. All of the passengers prayed for the boy—German Baptists and Lutherans, French Huguenots, Irish Catholics, Spanish Jews, English Anglicans, and Stewart and his Presbyterian friends. When they lived in their communities in the Old World, they were relatively immune from most germs to which they were exposed, but in the enclosed bacteria-laden bowels of the ship, they were exposed to all kinds of things for which they had no natural immunities. The strong survived, but the weak, like Josef, could not.
Finally, and almost thankfully, the little boy died. Ironically, it was one of the sunniest and calmest days the passengers had experienced. It was still cold, but not quite as miserable as it had been the last few weeks, and the passengers and crew were able to assemble on the deck for Josef’s funeral. All of the passengers shared the Stagner’s loss. Everyone had already experienced the death of several older passengers, but this was the first child to die during the crossing.
Herr Schmidt delivered a fine funeral sermon, and Eva translated his message into English for the other passengers—at least as well as she could given her fragile emotional state. Several times, she had to stop and compose herself as the emotion overcame her speech.
Herr Shmidt continued with a traditional German funeral verse, “Wer in den Herzen seiner Lieben lebt, ist nicht tot, der ist nur fern. Tot ist nur, wer vergessen wird.”    [“Those who live in our hearts are not dead, they are only in the distance. They are only dead if we forget them.”]
Stewart tried to focus on the minister’s words, as he knew these words were intended to soothe their heartache, but his mind kept drifting to how unfair the whole situation seemed to him. How could a loving God take this precious life from this loving family? How could He cause so much grief and heartache among people who loved Him so dearly? Nevertheless, one thing Herr Schmidt said stayed with him.
“In some way,” Eva translated, “the life of this little boy will bring a goodly portion of blessing to all of these people who loved him so dearly.”
“A blessing.” Stewart focused on those words. “What did that mean? Would they all have more to eat now that Josef was gone? How could his family expect any blessing to come from this sad affair, let alone a goodly portion of blessings?” Stewart’s sadness slowly turned to anger.
After a few German hymns, sang without music, and a few more prayers, the little body was placed on a heavy piece of canvas. Stones were placed by Josef’s feet to make sure the improvised casket would not float, then several sailors wrapped cords tightly around the bundle. Slowly, they lowered the body over the rail and, as it disappeared below the dark waves, they shook the knots loose and little Josef Stagner slipped away to the bottom of the sea. The Stagner’s wept bitterly, as the ship’s passengers and crew gathered around them.
Stewart and his friend Michael Campbell watched the crowd from across the deck. Tears streamed down Stewart’s face, and he took no measure to hide them. He wasn’t ashamed of his sadness. “Why?” he asked Michael, “why do these things happen? These good people left a cruel and oppressive country. Hope for their future in America was at hand, yet God snatched this child away from them. Why?” he asked again.
This time Michael sensed the anger in his voice.
“Stewart, it was God’s will. That’s all.”
Stewart lashed at his friend, “God’s will? God’s will? What are ye talking about, man? How could a loving and merciful God take this good, innocent little boy from ‘is family? This could not be God’s will, not my God anyway. Michael, maybe the devil has power in this world we can’t understand. Maybe the devil is the reason for such evil things as taking this child from us. I can’t understand it all, and I don’t think any man can understand. Why can’t God control Satan, if he’s all powerful? None of us will answer those questions until we get to Heaven, but Michael, I think we are selling God’s love short if we say it is His will that such bad things happen. Things happen in this life that we cannot control and for which we are not responsible. I think bad things happen that maybe even God allows to happen, but no man can explain it.”
Michael was unsure how to respond to Stewart’s outburst.
”Take it easy, man. I’m on your side.” replied Michael softly.
He recognized the grief Stewart felt for his friends, and he tried to provide a comforting thought. “We’ve been taught since childhood how nothing happens without it being God’s will.”
“You are right Michael. That is what we have been taught, but maybe it is wrong. We are not bound to believe what some religion teaches us any longer. We are going to America, and we don’t have to believe what the Presbyterian Synod tells us to believe--or the Pope, or the Bishop of Canterbury. These people speak for religions created by men, not God. Religions are nothing more than rules different groups created to fulfill someone’s interpretation of the scripture. In America, we will not be bound by such rules. We will be free to believe what we believe is true. We will worship God in here,” he said as he pounded his chest with his fist, “not in some building”.
Stewart calmed somewhat as he finished, and he lowered the finger he had been pointing without thinking at Michael’s chest.
Michael smiled, slapped his friend on the back, and said, “Stewart Andrew, ye may soon be an American, but, my friend ye have the fire of an Irishman, and I don’t think it can be contained! I’m glad ye are my friend, but isn’t it a bit scary to think that ye alone are the one who will decide what is true and what isn’t? I mean, when it comes to ye salvation and ye eternity, what if ye’re wrong?”
“Then, I’ll have to accept the consequences. I can read my Bible, go to church, listen to sermons, and reflect on God’s word, but I’ll no longer let anyone dictate spiritual matters to me based on their ideas of what is right and what is wrong or what they think is and is not God’s will.”
For a few moments there was silence as the young men watched the dark water fade into the mist on the horizon.
 The anger faded from his face, and Stewart smiled warmly, “Thanks for letting me talk, Michael.”
Michael shrugged and nodded understandably.
Stewart discovered a truth that day he had wrestled with for years as he witnessed the oppressive Anglicans and even the policies of his own Presbyterian Church. It took little Josef’s death to help him define it. Maybe then, in the bigger picture, he was one of the first to receive a “goodly portion” of blessing because of this little boy’s death, as Herr Schmidt said in his sermon. Stewart realized that day that his God could not be contained in a church by a group of self-righteous people, and a free people should never be told how to worship or what they must believe with regard to their Creator. While he would continue to go to church, pray, and study the scriptures, his idea of the church as an institution was changed forever. That belief was perhaps more important to Stewart than anything else in his life. It was the very cornerstone of his idea of freedom. He would carry that seed to America, and it would bear fruit in his children’s lives.