Strongly influenced by the rational empiricism of Locke, New England Unitarians rejected the orthodox position on original sin, grace, and revelation. For example, Channing, one of the most eloquent and outspoken of the Boston Unitarians, insisted that “revelation is addressed to us as rational beings” and condemned those who claimed to preach from divine inspiration. In “Unitarian Christianity” he wrote, “We cannot sacrifice our reason to the reputation of zeal. We owe it to truth and religion to maintain that fanaticism, partial insanity, sudden impressions, and ungovernable transports are anything rather than piety.” Grounding religion on a strict rationalism, however, had its drawbacks for students of Emerson’s generation. A religion devoid of emotional enthusiasm seemed to many lifeless—“corpse-cold” in Emerson’s phrase. At the same time, though, the Unitarian insistence on reason helped liberate Emerson and his peers-in ways more radical than their teachers imagined—from the hide-bound strictures of doctrine. If scripture was not divine revelation, but written in the language of men, as Channing claimed, then why not write a new scripture suitable for today, instead of simply repeating the words of past generations?

Emerson found a model for such an endeavor in a book written by one of his peers, Sampson Reed’s Observations on the Growth of the Mind, which Emerson read just before his departure for Florida. Only two years his senior, Reed received his M.A. the year Emerson graduated from Harvard, and Emerson heard him read his “Oration on Genius” as part of the commencement ceremonies that year. Observations on the Growth of the Mind was an expanded treatment of the same subject—namely, that the mind contains within itself “the germ of every science” and that nature exists “to draw forth and mature” these “latent energies of the soul.” The emphasis Reed placed on the mind’s organic capacity for growth and development challenged the mechanistic view of Lock ean rationalism and gave new importance to human creativity. “Syllogistic reasoning is passing away,” he proclaimed, “in the progress of moral improvement, the imagination (which is called the creative power of man) shall coincide with the actively creative power of God.” Reed’s Observations helped fill the void in Emerson’s training for the ministry. What frustrated Emerson most with the Divinity School curriculum was the amount of time spent studying the history of Christian doctrine. Elated with Reed, Emerson wrote to his Aunt Mary Moody, who had long been his confidant in matters relating to his spiritual life: “It is one of the feelings of modern philosophy, that it is wrong to regard ourselves so much in a historical light as we do, putting time between God & us; and that it were fitter to account every moment of the existence of the Universe as a new Creation and all as a revelation proceeding every moment from the Divinity to the mind of the observer” (Letters, vol. 1, p. 174). This insight would remain central to Emerson’s thinking, and would provide the foundation for his philosophy of self-reliance.

Emerson returned from Florida having recovered his health, but his ambitions for the ministry had been tempered. He settled into a routine of preaching, but unlike his classmates from the Divinity School, he did not take a permanent position in a congregation. Instead he served as substitute or replacement preacher, first in Boston and then throughout New England. Emerson was invited to join a number of congregations but declined out of concern for his health. Because he was not constrained to meet the expectations of the same congregation week in and week out, he had the freedom to experiment with rhetorical devices and develop his own interpretations of scripture and doctrine. In the weeks between his stints preaching, he pursued his interests in philosophy, literary criticism, and the natural sciences. Emerson had started keeping a journal during his sophomore year in college, a practice he maintained throughout his life, and now his journals became the forum in which he debated with himself the competing truth claims of the scientists, theologians, philosophers, and poets he encountered in his copious reading.

During this time he met his first wife, Ellen Tucker, while preaching in Concord, New Hampshire. Like Emerson, she was an aspiring poet, and as their correspondence shows, they fell deeply in love with one another. Tragically, she already had been diagnosed with tuberculosis. Her brother had died of the disease, and she knew it was likely to claim her life, too, at a young age. Nevertheless she and Emerson found great joy in their marriage, and when they returned to Boston, Emerson accepted a permanent position as a minister of Boston’s Second Church. “My history has had its important days,” he wrote in his journal. “Whilst I enjoy the luxury of an unmeasured affection for an object so deserving of it all & who requites it all,—I am called by an ancient & respectable church to be its pastor” (Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks, vol. 3, p. 149).