Hey, that's my pew

I'm going to switch to my side of the family for a few weeks. I want to note before moving on that in the early days of our marriage, it seemed as though we couldn't go much of anywhere in Texas without running into someone related to my mother-in-law's side of the family, especially the Lackeys. 

For the accidental reader who knows naught of my background, I served as a pastor in the United Methodist Church in what is known as the Northwest Texas Annual Conference, an area that encompasses all the Texas Panhandle, much of the Southern Rolling Plains and parts of West Texas from Midland east a few towns past Abilene. 

As we served churches in this conference, we would almost inevitably have someone related to my wife appear in church shortly after we began service in a particular church. I, unfortunately had little interest in the family trees of either side and failed to keep in touch with any of them. What a source of information they would have been.

Lots of events and traditions occur in churches. One of the enduring habits of older members of my congregations involved their sitting in pretty much the same spot week after week, year after year. In a couple of the churches we served, the congregations began seeing growth, with younger individuals, some without church backgrounds, visiting and often staying. Inevitably one of these poor souls would sit in a spot normally occupied by a member. 

I'm pretty sure that a couple of times members chased these interlopers off by telling them, "I'm sorry, but that's my spot." More often the newbies would be accommodated, but later on I'd be in a church meeting and some folks would grumble that although they were happy to have new people in church, they weren't particularly happy about losing "their pew."

While looking at tree entries this week, I ran across this notation about Capt. Joseph Little, one of the first of the Littles to be born in America: "Captain Joseph was a very prominent citizen in Newbury. He was the tythingman in 1685, selectman in 1692-3, 1700, 1704-5. He was a member of the established (Congregational) church and when the new building was erected in 1700, he and his wife were given a prominent pew." 

A selectman, you probably know, was a member of the local government in New England towns. A "tythingman," more commonly known as a tithingman, is described on the New England Historical Society website as "the most powerful man in New England."

The tithingman kept discipline in both town and church. The site describes an incident in which a tithingman upbraided George Washington for attempting to travel on a Sunday. In church, the tithingman often carried a pole with something soft attached to one end. 

Unruly children could be walloped with the hard end of the pole, while sleeping male congregants could be prodded with it. They used the soft end to tickle the noses of sleeping women. Some women cleverly avoided such treatment by wearing bonnets or hats with wide brims to hide their faces.

Given that descriptions of Congregational worship of the time included prayers that could last from 15 minutes to an hour and sermons that averaged and hour, along with singing and almsgiving, you can understand why some folks might nod off, especially in warm weather. 

Tithingmen also saw to the biblical education of children and monitored the taverns for drunken behavior. And lastly, they seemed to be in charge of making sure congregants paid their tithes, though the means is not described.

Seating in Congregational churches was strictly regulated. In the early part of the 17th century, women sat together on the minister's left, while the men sat to the pastor's right. (Those of you familiar with the Bible might be tempted to remember the idea that the chosen sit on the right hand of God, and draw a conclusion about the position of women in the church, which I can neither confirm nor deny.) Women sat in the church at the level accorded their husbands. Beginning in the middle of the century, men were allowed to have their wives and children sit with them. I assume the more forward pews were considered the more honored places, but I haven't confirmed that yet.

Children, Africans, Indians and poor people had their own places to sit, and everyone was expected to be in their assigned place. 

Eventually, the matter of where a member sat became a source of contention. Seating would be reassigned every few years to accommodate changes in status, age, wealth, etc. But not everyone accepted their new positions quietly. In the article "Peace, Conflict and Ritual in Puritan Congregations" for The Journal of Interdisciplinary History, E. Brooks Hadfield described how Goodwife Randall of Newbury so disliked her new assignment that she sat in the aisle until a new one was suggested. She showed her approval by climbing over a locked pew door to get to it. Imagine having locked doors on pews. These folks were serious about where they sat. 

Eventually seats were assigned according to how much taxes a member paid, which eventually devolved into a system of selling the seats by auction. No word on how much great-great-to-the-x grandfather Joseph had to pay to keep his prestigious seat. 

Image: Box pews (note the doors) in Old North Church, Boston, From the church's website.