Summary:
In previous columns I described a series of coincidences that guided me to participate in a workshop called “Reclaiming the Ancient Dreamways,” led by Robert Moss. Each coincidence became a steppingstone, leading me deeper and deeper into relationship with my ancestors and their tragic, yet hopeful, story.
A wise man once said to me, “Ancestors are not only our blood relations; they are all of the people who walked the earth before us.” This story is dedicated to my blood lineage, especially my British Isles ancestors who risked their lives to travel from Wales and England in search of freedom and a new home. It is also dedicated to my American Indian ancestors whose lives were stolen from them through a bloody battle to defend their lives and land. Their dust is in our bones; the air they breathed is the air we breathe. Our lives are intermingled, and where they end, we begin.
My ancestral story is old, but it touches on themes we grapple with as interfaith ministers. It is the story of a group of people looking for religious freedom. It is the story of an entire community who lost their lives defending their beliefs and their land.
Perhaps one of the reasons the story continues to express itself is because we have not fully grieved and lay to rest the bones of those who walked before us. We have not learned from their trials and tribulations. If there is one thing that is certain, though, it is that their story is my story, and my story is yours. So I share this story with you to help minister to the needs of our collective ancestral wounds, wounds that laid the foundation of the greater American culture.
My ancestral story first revealed itself to me in 1991 with a series of dreams and waking life experiences, but none of it made sense until I participated in a “Reclaiming the Ancient Dreamways” workshop in January 2007. During that time, I had many unexpected experiences regarding my British Isles ancestors. One of them entailed a shamanic dream journey during which I met Jonathan Padelford, my eleventh great-grandfather. This connection sprung a leak in an ancient well of grief that had no conscious meaning to me. I felt overwhelmed by sorrow, and tears flooded from a deeply seated reservoir.
As the workshop drew to a close, I realized I had much research to do when I returned home. Through investigation of my dream and daily journals, ancestral records, and my best friend “Google”, I was able to unearth a legacy of devastation so vast, I am certain it has touched every generation that has followed in its footsteps.
In the beginning, sometime during the pilgrim’s migration, my ancestors traveled from England to Massachusetts in search of a new home. I imagine they were nervous, but hopeful, at the prospects of religious freedom and a meaningful new existence. Unfortunately, life does not always follow our carefully laid out plans. Jonathan Padelford died in 1669, leaving his wife Mary and children behind.
The Wampanoag Native Peoples, the red-painted American Indians who were killed in my “Thanksgiving Day Massacre” dream in 1991 (see Part IV), were native to the lands that neighbored my ancestors’ new home. The dream seemed to refer to a horrific battle called the King Philip’s War, which began in 1675.
King Philip, a Wampanoag leader whose real name was Metacom, led his people in a war that resulted in a bloody battle between the Wampanoag, neighboring tribes and the colonialists. According to the Pilgrim Hall Museum, “The King Philip’s War was one of the bloodiest and most costly in the history of America.”
During this war my ancestor Padelford’s wife Mary and nine of her children were slain by Wampanoag and neighboring tribes. Only two children were known to have survived the massacre. The youngest living son, Zachariah never married, nor did he have any children. I am the direct descendent of the only Padelford who survived and had children: Jonathan Padelford II.
The coincidences that led me to this finely woven tapestry of ancestral grief and sorrow were many: the red fox, the red-tailed hawk, Robert Moss’ book Dreamways of the Iroquois, the "Thanksgiving Day Massacre" dream from 1991, my trip to the Mohawk reserve in 1991, my journey with Aubrey into the Lutheran seminary where she saw my ancestors having a healing Pow-wow with American Indians, and the final journey where I met my ancestor Jonathan Padelford and Mishquois.
War, even wars nearly forgotten, leaves a residue of grief that touches the lives of each succeeding generation. Unless we minister to our ancestors and help heal the wounds inflicted on them during their lives, we carry with us all of their unresolved conflicts, pains and sorrows.
What contemporary Westerners can learn from American Indian heritage and the indigenous wisdom of most Earth-centered peoples is that our ancestors are not far from us; they are as close as our breathing. When we minister to their needs, through portals such as dreams and dream journeys, ceremony and ritual, we honor their lives and the sacred interconnectedness of all living beings.
A few days ago it was Samhain, the Celtic New Year — a time when my British Isles ancestors might have celebrated the fall harvest and the lives of their ancestors. It is said that during this time the wall between worlds, between the living and the dead, is the thinnest; but I believe that we always have access to the whisper of our ancestors. We do not need to wait until next year to listen to or share their story. We can easily build ancestral altars in our homes by simply displaying an ancestral painting, photo or family heirloom on a dresser or shelf. When friends come to visit and ask, "Who is this?" instead of saying, "My 11th great grandfather," I say, "My ancestor, Jonathan Padelford. He was a pioneer who risked his life to make his dreams come true. He died in the process and a lot of other people lost their lives. But, he left behind hundreds of granchildren, including abololitionist Seth Padelford who became Lieutenant Governor and then Governor of Massacheusetts during the Civil War. It was Seth who compiled the extensive Padelford family tree to help preserve the legacy of those who took a leap of faith and journeyed bravely into the great mystery of life.
We are all called to remember, to listen deeply with our hearts and learn from our collective past. We can reflect on the wars our ancestors battled, whether they were the European pioneers or the Wampanoag Warriors, and know that what they sought was a place to call home, a place to share love, a place to give gratitude for this blessed existence. By reflecting on the rich history that they left us perhaps we can learn from the past so that in the future we may have these things without the war, without the bloodshed.