And I have felt
a presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth . . .
William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey, 93-105 (1798)
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In 1863, Joseph Worcester was a young graduate from Harvard College, whose chronic poor health led to a trip out West where the fresh air and salutary climate might restore his weak constitution to a more robust health. He might also have been seeking another kind of strengthening: some kind of inner direction or conviction as to his future. All of the most promising men for three generations in his family had gone to Harvard and become Swedenborgian pastors and theologians, forming the most powerful family in the early decades of this striking Christian sect. Though he held a deep love for the ideas contained in Swedenborg's revolutionary insights, young Joseph was most drawn to art and architecture. And it was to be his health trip out West that began the solution of bringing together his two loves: theology and architecture.
During his half-year of convalescence, the artistic theologue fell in love with the romance of Northern California. Staying in Yosemite for some weeks with family friends, he met and began an intriguing friendship with the naturalist, John Muir. They had in common a reverential view of nature.
Though Muir's vision was never so theological as Worcester's, many volumes of Swedenborg with Worcester's name inscribed in them are in Muir's personal library, now kept at the John Muir Center at the University of the Pacific.
There are in Muir's private writings indications that he found Worcester's theosophy of nature challenging and that he wrestled with ideas presented to him through his Worcester-Swedenborg connection.
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After experiencing this spiritual resonance with John Muir, Worcester went on to San Francisco. He discovered an attraction to this newly sprawling town, creating itself, as it seemed, on the edge of the world. A new world was being made, and leading citizens were striving to make a civilized environment in a cultural atmosphere that was often very rough and crude.
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Key figures apparently took a strong liking to this educated, soft-spoken but clearly visionary young man, who was searching out and discovering his life's calling. There was already a Swedenborgian congregation being led by a New York attorney who had not had proper theological training. Several somewhat disaffected members urged young Worcester to return East and complete his theological studies needed beyond his Harvard degree, and they vowed that if he would then return to San Francisco they would serve as a loyal foundation for a new congregation and would support the Swedenborgian cause to their full extent.
So in 1867, Worcester returned, against the strong wishes of his family, and with such stalwart parishioners as Capt. Eldridge, Catherine Marshall, and eventually Bruce Porter, Mary Curtis Richardson, Judge Timothy Riordan, and William Keith, Joseph Worcester shepherded what would become a particularly artistic pilgrimage. As this congregation felt called to be a part of the growing and artistically-inclined congregation, they began to think of building a church together, and plans began in earnest.
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