Unitarians and Utopias
Rev. Diane Rollert
Unitarian Church of Montreal, 25 September 2022
Since I was a teenager, I have always been fascinated by utopias. I remember reading Thomas More’s Utopia, written in the 16th century, and being very inspired by the 18th-century French philosopher Charles Fourier, who promoted the idea of building utopian communities around his particular vision of architecture.
I dreamed of living on a kibbutz or going somewhere where true socialism or communism existed. I wanted to escape the unjust world around me. I wanted to believe that perfect, loving, economically just communities were possible. Perhaps that’s why I was ultimately attracted to Unitarianism. In fact, we have our own history of utopianism, though we don’t often talk about it.
Consider the first Unitarians in Europe, in the 1500s. The Reformation had begun. Protestants — truly protestors — were criticizing and leaving the Roman Catholic Church in droves. The church was corrupt, they said. Divisions grew between the Catholic Church and the followers of Martin Luther and John Calvin. Religious wars broke out and no one with unsanctioned ideas was safe. It was a treacherous time.
Out of this strife, a group who would eventually call themselves Unitarians found their way to a small town in Poland. The town was called Raków (or Racovia in Latin). A wealthy landowner and his wife hoped to build a new city, a common practice at the time. They sent out a decree that all beliefs would be tolerated on their land.
And the people came. They came from Poland, Moravia and elsewhere. Many were Italians who had been inspired by humanism and a rejection of the Trinity. Some had been inspired by the writings of Michael Servetus, the Unitarian martyr burned at the stake by John Calvin. They saw Jesus as human, not God, and they wanted to follow his teachings that God was a loving God and that the meek would inherit the earth. They attempted to build a utopia, where all wealth was held in common and pacifism was absolute.
For the first three years of the city’s existence, the people of Raków were engaged in perpetual debate. How utopian should they be?
At first, they abolished the professional clergy, saying that anyone could be divinely inspired to preach, and everyone should labour to work the land together.
In the end, they gave up on the idea of common property. They decided that while peace
was preferable, there were times when war was acceptable. They complained that they were bored by the preaching of cobblers and farmers, and reinstated their ministers and built a church. They referred to themselves as “the Polish Brethren, also known as the Unitarians.” They tolerated and even encouraged a diversity of belief. They established a printing press and built an academy that became the centre of Unitarian thought in Europe.
Raków, the first truly Unitarian utopian settlement, lasted for nearly 70 years, until the city was destroyed by political forces and the Roman Catholic Church reasserted itself. Centuries later, the Jewish population that had co-existed with the Unitarians would be exterminated by the Nazis. Today, Raków is a small town, unknown to most Poles.
Two hundred years later, in the 1840s, the Unitarian minister George Ripley and his wife Sophia founded a utopian community called Brook Farm, in Massachusetts, based on some of the same ideals that were held in the early days of Raków. Members of Brook Farm pooled their wealth. Everyone, including women, was paid equally, and each person was encouraged to pursue the work that most inspired them. Whether a farmer, a baker or an intellectual, they worked the land together. They ran a successful school based on transcendentalist ideals and welcomed visitors.
But after six years, Brook Farm went bankrupt, partially due to a devastating fire. The commune could no longer sustain itself, and its members reintegrated into their former lives. Yet despite its closure, many members of Brook Farm felt the experiment had been a success. They had shown the world that “industry without drudgery” and true equality were possible.
Then there was Fruitlands, another 19th-century utopian experiment in Massachusetts. It had an even shorter life. Begun by the Unitarian transcendentalists Bronson Alcott and Charles Lane, it lasted only seven months. They built their commune on a beautiful expanse of farmland that is a park and museum today. Bronson Alcott’s daughter Louisa May Alcott, author of Little Women, would later write a book about the experience.
Property was held communally. They were early vegans: they ate no animal products and used no animals for farm labour. They bathed in cold water. The men debated philosophy while their wives and daughters cooked, cleaned and managed much of the farming. As the story goes, it was Mrs. Alcott who, in the freezing cold of December, finally said she’d had enough and took the family back to the civilized town of Concord. The men of Fruitlands had noble aspirations to connect with transcending nature, but they were unable to relinquish their own patriarchy or their urban ways.
Each of these Unitarian utopian communities had its successes and its failures. But as
much as they tried to live their values in isolation, old habits and the realities of the surrounding world could not be avoided.
I recently came across the suggestion that radical political thought can be divided between two conflicting ideas. The first is a utopian belief that we can create a good and moral life outside of the confines of the surrounding society. In other words, you can’t change the dominant culture, but you can change yourself by the way you choose to live with others — and with time, this could change the surrounding society.
The other belief is that society can only be changed by an external, apocalyptic event that will sweep away the existing world order to create a new one. In other words, only God, revolution or a cataclysm can bring about true social change.
Think about climate change and the cataclysmic possibilities that lie before us. Is the fear of planetary destruction enough to make us change course before it’s too late? Though we often carry on as usual, we recognize that our individual behaviour contributes to the crisis. We also know that individual action alone is not enough, that only a fully global response will save us. We are living between fears of apocalypse and dreams of utopia.
Some of our forebears chose to isolate themselves from the dominant culture. They dreamed of living by their highest ideals. Their utopian spirit produced inspiring writings that both lifted up their values and dared to explore their own failings. They found a place to reflect that enabled them to influence future generations. After all, utopian ideals often inspire human progress.
In such times as these, we can’t afford to live in isolation. To create our own private utopias may serve ourselves, but it will not heal a wounded world. Even so, we cannot afford to lose our utopian spirit. We cannot stop dreaming that it’s possible to live by our highest ideals.
We still live in a world of great possibility, and the utopian in me wants to offer you a clear “Go forth and do this…”
So, perhaps, in light of the upcoming provincial elections, I can say that even if we may be feeling a certain apathy, separating ourselves from the larger society ultimately helps no one. Analysts say, for example, that if a majority of young adults were to register and vote their conscience, real change would be possible. (By the way, you can still register to vote until 2:00 p.m. on Thursday, September 29.) Together, we could be the ones to save us from the apocalypse.
So, I offer you this charge: Go forth — and vote —with your brightest Unitarian, utopian spirit.
Amen.