Religion: Doleful State

A mighty man of God was the Reverend Samuel Moody.* From 1698 until his death in 1747, his warnings of hell fire kept the fireless meeting house at York Village, Maine, warm on even the coldest Sundays. Generous to a fault, he once gave away his wife's only pair of shoes. Sturdy, he declined a salary, lived on "faith in his Divine Master" supplemented by the voluntary gifts of his flock. Paternal, he was called Father Moody, an appellation rare among Congregationalists. Intolerant as his era, he took along an ax when at 70 he sailed as chaplain of the 1745 expedition against Louisbourg, smashed the altars and images in that French fortress.

Garbed in flowing gown, full-fashioned wig, black skullcap and white neckerchief, "Father Moody" will appear this Sunday at the meeting house built the year he died. As of yore, his congregation will be drummed to meeting, the tithing man will tickle the drowsy with a rod tipped by a rabbit's foot, the precentor line out the psalms and lead the singing with a pitch pipe. The sermon will be "The Doleful State of the Damned," which Samuel Moody first preached on August 21, 1710. He will pray that Queen Anne's reign continue happy and glorious, "that this place and all other places be not bothered by Indians during the coming week."

Impersonator of Father Moody will be York Village's present Congregational pastor, the Rev. Walter H. Millinger. Earnest, antiquarian Parson Millinger held his first Father Moody Sunday in 1936 after running across his predecessor's fiery sermon. The idea has spread; now all Maine is digging up old sermons, redelivering them with period fixings. But even Pastor Millinger has yet to re-enact one custom of Father Moody's time: those who did not spend Sunday in church spent Monday in the stocks.