A Language of Reverence (December 9, 2012)

I grew up in a UU church, and my parents gave me the gift of religious freedom. As Nancy Shaffer writes in her poem "A Theology Adequate for Night" in her beautiful UU meditation manual:

Not God as unmoved mover:

One who set the earth in motion

and withdrew. Not the One to thank

When those cherished do not die ---

For providence includes equally

Power to harm. Not a God of exactings,

As if love could be earned or subtracted

But during certain moments freedom from dogma is not enough for me. What I needed as a small child, and what I want today is simply something to get me through the nights when one feels adrift in an infinite universe, and your non-being sits like a chaperon in a dark corner of your bedroom making the big questions of life seem urgent and ever-present.

Shaffer continues:

But-- this may work in the night:
Something that breathes with us, as others
sleep, something that breathes also
those sleeping, so no one is alone.
Something that is the beginning of love,
and also each part of how love is completed,
Something so large, wherever we are,
we are not separate; which teachers again
the way to start over.

Night is the test: when grief lies uncovered,
and longing shows clear; when nothing we do
can hasten earth's turning or delay it.

This may be adequate for the night;
this holding; something that steadfastly
breaths us, which we are also learning to breathe."

This was the comfort I needed and could not find as a child in my UU church: to learn again and again that there is something steadfast in the universe, to learn how to remember it in the dark of the night, and to breathe. And yet I know now that this is absolutely part of our religious tradition, so the question I would like for us to answer together today is why? Why as a child who went to Unitarian Universalist Sunday school every week did I not know this?

When I was in Seminary, everyone was talking about a whole new wave of un-churched folks entering our churches who were hungry for more spirituality. This idea was met with the sound of tens of thousands of UU humanists groaning, as they worried that the rational Unitarian Universalism that had been a refuge and a sanctuary for them would be irrevocably changed forever. Then in 2003 our UUA president Bill Sinkford set off a “firestorm” of reaction by suggesting that:

"I would like to see us become better acquainted with the depths, both so that we are more grounded in our personal faith, and so that we can effectively communicate that faith-and what we believe it demands of us-to others. For this, I think we need to cultivate what UU minister David Bumbaugh calls a 'vocabulary of reverence.' …we need some language that would allow us to capture the possibility of reverence. To name the holy, to talk about human agency in theological terms—the ability of humans to shape and frame our world guided by what we find to be of ultimate importance.”

Now, almost a decade later, I believe this conversation is still relevant. Some folks in the pews and padded chairs of UU congregations sought us out precisely because we did not talk about God. As Rebecca Parker enumerated so beautifully in the open letter you heard read today, “God-talk has often aided and abetted injustice and oppression.”  If a little girl grew up in a religious community where not only was God not female, but the religious leaders could not be female, it stands to reason that as a woman she might abandon such a God. If you went to a church or synagogue where you were told that God judged queer folks, no wonder you would abandon such a God. If you left your childhood faith because you just could not repeat those parts of your church’s creed that did not match your knowing of the world, perhaps you came here and were relieved to be away from that which oppressed your spirit. Perhaps it is a comfort to sit through a whole Sunday morning with your beloved community where no one uses traditional religious language. And yet…

A parent who raised her child UU tells me that on the ride home from church one day her child said “UUs don’t worship god, they worship famous UUs.” This cuts right to the heart of things, doesn’t it? Have we, by avoiding religious language, also avoided the important conversations that  our beloved community is uniquely called to facilitate?  Perhaps because many of us have been oppressed and stifled by religious language, we sometimes miss “the possibility of reverence”?  This astute UU child noticed that instead we tell stories from our history, of role models for living out our humanity.  That child challenges us to wonder-  do we leave ourselves with enough language to discuss those things that are larger than ourselves, the mysteries of life?

In my first year as a religious educator I taught a wonderful 1^st grade curriculum called “Around the Church, Around the Year.” I wanted to apply all I had learned in seminary, so I tried to find the “null curriculum” (which is the fifty cent way of saying “what we teach by what is left out”). I noticed that not once in the whole curriculum did we mention God, or the spirit, or really any theological or spiritual concepts at all. Theology was our Null curriculum, with which we were teaching our children “Church is a place where we never talk about God, or our spiritual lives.” This was quite a shock to me at the time, and now that I am a parent myself,  I ask with even more urgency -- do we give our children a language to confront grief and despair and to feel they are not left alone with only their 2 hands to change this broken world? As Nancy Shaffer writes

“Night is the test: when grief lies uncovered,

and longing shows clear; when nothing we do

Can hasten earth’s turning or delay it”

It is easy for us to inhabit our religious diversity as a congregation by sticking to common ground. Our humanity is part of what binds us together--our belief in reason, in the strength of our human capacities to grow and to heal ourselves and one another. But I think there is more we have in common that we do not often explore together. And I think some of these things that lay unspoken are the very ideas, stories, symbols that comfort us in despair, that help us express our most exalted joy, that help us save and savor life.  I asked my theology class one day in seminary – “why don’t we talk more about our own experiences of the divine, of the transcendent?” and after a silent pause, a classmate answered “because they are private.”

Why don’t we talk about holy things in church? More than one member of my congregation remembers being told explicitly by their Sunday School teacher or other religious leader to “stop asking so many questions!” There wasn’t just a null curriculum suggesting that “we don’t talk about our deepest religious questioning and yearning”, but a full on explicit finger wagging from someone in authority.  I myself remember a time when I preached a sermon on Channing’s use of the word “soul” and had a long-time member of that church say to me “I don’t think you should use words like that in church. I don’t think it is very UU.” So in part we may be reluctant to ask our deepest questions, to talk about theological issues because some explicit, implicit or null curriculum taught us that we were right to be reticent.

And I want to say that I am so sorry for each child who was told to stop asking questions. I am so sorry for each adult who got the impression that their most deeply held beliefs were not a topic of polite conversation. I am so sorry for each of you who has heard words like “God” or “sin” used in a way that felt like a cudgel, a weapon against you or against any person in this world.

My seminary was full of long-time UUs who knew this pain. My classmates asked again and again “Can we use words like “god” and “prayer” in a congregation where we KNOW that beloved members sitting in the pews still have bruised places, muscles that clench in defense against such language? Can we talk about Jesus when we know that folks who heard his story about separating the sheep from the goats felt like they must be the goats?” And the answer always was the same; the job of the beloved community is not only to be a sanctuary for people’s tender places, but also to challenge. We must be a  loving, compassionate community that listens so deeply that we can sit with and love one another, especially  through those difficult places into deeper healing and understanding.

I’m sure some of you are thinking- “why bother?” Why even bother to reclaim or reconstruct all this old fashioned religious language so piled with baggage that each use carries with it thousands of years of misunderstanding and hurt? Because for thousands of years people just like you and I have tried to express something larger than their own daily worries and troubles and tedium; we as a human species have created this language to try to communicate to ourselves and to one another. 

There was a wonderful study done by a cognitive psychologist at Harvard called Elizabeth Spelke showing that having language actually allows certain functions of the brain, actually allows certain kinds of concepts, like space and color to be connected, allows us to have thoughts like “left of the blue wall.” And in fact adults who have their language capacity temporarily disabled loose their ability to think certain thoughts. [i]

Now I’m going to make a huge leap here, because my field is applied theology, not science, and say that since we know language itself helps us solve certain problems, helps us synthesize information, I wonder… could we be handicapping ourselves by avoiding using certain words? My old theology professor Rebecca Parker pointed out that when you go to the index of your UU hymnal, you won’t find the word “God.” Instead you find “Transcending Mystery and Wonder.” You won’t find the word “salvation” though there is an entry for “hope.” And I wonder, are there thoughts we could have, are there links we could make with the word “God” or “divine” that we can’t make with the words “Transcending Mystery and Wonder” or “spirit of life”? Are their literally thoughts we can’t have without certain words?

I also think it’s important to remember that these words allow us to talk across traditions, (I don’t think you will find “Transcending Mystery and Wonder” in our neighbor’s hymnals) and allow us to follow the evolution of concepts across time. We were cleaning out the church library this fall and came across a worship resource for lent. We had been pretty mercilessly pruning the library so that all the books piled on the floor would fit on shelves, but we wanted to keep anything that would help us preserve our UU history. We agreed that our current worship team would probably not use a book on lent very often. Then a volunteer noticed that this was a Universalist publication! We had allowed the word “Lent” to turn us away from a conversation with Universalists from just 50 years ago. Universalist theologians have done some really important thinking about things like “sin” and “evil” and “salvation” and “hell” --thinking that lead the way for other American religions. If we refuse to engage with those words we lose all that theological heritage.

These are not “other people’s words.” Our library is full of these words. I will be the first to agree that when I say “Soul” I probably mean something different than that preacher on the Family Life network does. I guarantee that how  I define “sin” is different than his. But those words belong to all of us. No one gets to define what they mean for me. Our theological history is one that has, for over 400 years, challenged our neighbors’  understanding of these ideas.

But if we are going to use these powerful, dangerous words overlaid with centuries of meaning, we have to be ready to listen. Really listen to one another. If our brothers and sisters are going to talk about that which comforts them when “grief lies uncovered.” We must promise to listen to one another with open hearts. When our sisters tell us how the spirit moved in their lives, or when our brothers and tell us how the word “spirit” grates against a tender place, we must listen ever more deeply.

Finally, we must remember that we are talking about things that often defy words, things that are ineffable, that no words can do justice to: the pain of childbirth, and the inexpressible mystery of seeing a new life enter the world. The pit of despair and the embracing love that calls us back to life,

 “What wondrous love is this, o my soul, what wondrous love is this that brings my heart such bliss, and takes away the pain of my soul?”[ii]

Our deepest feelings, our most profound experiences can make words seem small and petty. Theologians have always grappled with and confessed the audacity of using words to describe things no words can every really contain. In even beginning a conversation about those things most precious, most (if you will) holy to us, we must admit that we are merely fumbling in the dark. 

As you gather in this your beloved community, I challenge you to think about those difficult words so overlaid with meaning that sometimes they mean nothing at all. I challenge you to reclaiming the words that may be, and finding new words when the old ones fail. I challenge you to talk about the words that are difficult for us, and just be present in that discomfort with one another. But ultimately this must not be a conversation about words. Let it be instead an opening of our hearts to one another, fumbling and gesturing wildly to express whatever gets us through the night, to express our gratitude when this sun rises again.

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[i] Radio Lab does a wonderful presentation of this here: http://www.radiolab.org/2010/aug/09/words-that-change-the-world/ starting around 11’30”

[ii] -lyrics Connie Campbell Hart “What Wondrous Love”

Loyalty (November 11, 2012)

As this year’s strident political debates have swirled around us, I have often wondered –why is it that liberals and conservatives have come to such different conclusions about what is important? Moral psychologist Jonathan Haidt has surveyed tens of thousands of persons and found a reliable difference in which values were more important to folks who identified as liberals, and which were most important to those who self identified as conservatives. Of 5 foundational moral values  the  values of Compassion and fairness were considered most important by liberals, while conservatives felt that the other three values -- respect for authority, loyalty and purity were just as important.[i] I was fascinated when I saw Haidt interviewed by Bill Moyers recently, because his research gives a valuable insight into why liberals and conservatives have so much trouble understanding one another, so much trouble seeing the world through one another’s eyes.

As a self-identified liberal, it didn’t rock my sense of who I am too much to see compassion and fairness elevated over respect for authority and purity. But seeing Loyalty there as conservative value and not a liberal one… that bothered me. It made me wonder… could we Unitarian Universalists, both liberal and conservative, get behind loyalty as a value? The psychologists who designed the test describe the value this way “Loyalty/betrayal: This foundation is related to our long history as tribal creatures able to form shifting coalitions. It underlies virtues of patriotism and self-sacrifice for the group. It is active anytime people feel that it's ‘one for all, and all for one’."

This week the citizens of 3 states, gay marriage in Maine, Maryland and Washington state. , voted to recognize same-sex marriage. UUs have long been leaders in this movement through the Standing ont eh Side of Love campaign and efforts since 1984 when the General Assembly passed a Business Resolution affirming the practice of UUA clergy performing Services of Union between same-gender couples, and requesting that the Department of Ministerial and Congregational Services develop and distribute supporting materials.[ii] And in 1996 we passed  Resolution of Immediate Witness in Support of the Right to Marry for Same-Sex Couples. Which reads in part: “BE IT finally resolved that the 1996 General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association urges the member congregations to proclaim the worth of marriage between any two committed persons and to make this position known in their home communities.”[iii]

When Unitarian Universalism comes out year after year as a very public voice for marriage equality, I think most folks look at their message first and foremost as a pro-equality movement, but I also want to lift up that this is a pro-marriage movement, a pro-loyalty movement. If we didn’t believe in marriage, why would we embrace this particular inequality? Ours is not a religious tradition that says everyone must be married, but I do think it is important to name loyalty as a religious value, and to stand on the side of commitment and loyalty.

 The 2009 Census showed marriages are now at an all time low.  Only 52 percent of adults 18 and over reported themselves as married, compared with 57 percent in 2000.[iv]  This reduction in marriages is both folks who have never been married and folks who are divorced or widowed.

Initially when divorce became more possible in our culture, I know there were some women and men for whom this was literally  life saving. Folks trapped in abusive or oppressive relationships could see no way out. The option of never marrying is a blessing for new generations of men and women who would have been forced into un-wanted marriage out of social convention. But I propose that the pendulum has now swung too far to the other direction. Today the media often portrays marriage and romance much like any other consumer activity, shopping around for the best sweater or TV set, and relying on the return policy if the sweater no longer fits, or if the TV needs un upgrade.

I know that in this room there are folks who don’t buy into that cultural image of marriage as one more consumer good for sale in the marketplace. There are folks here who have been married for decades, who live loyalty day by day, who have stood by their partners through mental or physical illness, through disputes over the dishes, through conflicting career aspirations, through nights with colicky babies, or arguments about whether to have children.My premarital counseling professor once told us that some of his couples wanted to promise to stay together “for as long as we both shall love” instead of “for as long as we both shall live.” He would refuse – “That’s not really a marriage” he said. Because there is something about knowing that a union is a forever promise, that it doesn’t come with a gift receipt so you can return your partner if they don’t do their share of the dishes, or if a newer fancier model comes along later. Such a promise changes fundamentally the nature of the relationship-- to covenant “for richer for poorer, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health.” Such a promise is a foundation you can build your lives on.

I think as a denomination, we have been reluctant to speak too strongly about the value of marriage in particular, because we know there are folks who build their lives on a different foundation. They chose not to be in a life partnership, and instead have strong bonds with friends, with parents or siblings, with extended family. There are folks for whom heartbreak has crumbled those very foundations they used to depend on, and those whose lives are more solitary. But I think it is the job of your beloved community to value connection, and to stand by those connections. 

The biblical story of Ruth and Naomi is a wonderful illustration of how loyalty can take unexpected forms. Some of you will remember that in this story Naomi’s husband dies, and not long after her two adult sons. She says to her two recently widowed daughters-in-law

⁸ “Go, return each of you to her mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you as you have dealt with the dead and with me. 9 May the Lord grant that you may find rest, each in the house of her husband.” Then she kissed them, and they lifted up their voices and wept.

One daughter in law, Oprah, chooses to go back to her mother’s household, (remember this was a matriarchal lineage) but the other, Ruth says to her

¹⁶ “Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. ¹⁷ Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus may the Lord do to me, and worse, if anything but death parts you and me.” ¹⁸ When she saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.

Ruth is elevated throughout the Judeo-Christian tradition as a standard-bearer for Loyalty.  Legally, she owed nothing to her Mother in law, but she made this vow of loyalty, and as the story reveals, is true to her vow.

Certainly loyalty has a shadow side, which is betrayal and abuse. For years religious leaders have told women or men trapped in abusive relationships that this is their cross to bear. That they must remain true to their promises and “try to work things out.” Untold damage and harm has been done with such admonitions. I attended a clergy training about domestic abuse over at the Guthrie medical center, and one of my evangelical colleagues stood to respond to this traditional dialogue and said “A woman who leaves an abusive relationship is not breaking her covenant. The man broke the covenant when he abused her.” The shadow side of loyalty is that it sometimes compels us into staying in an abusive situation past the time when the covenant is broken. Sometimes the most loyal thing we can do is name the truth, is uphold the boundaries of our covenant. If we are in an abusive marriage,  it is not un-loyal to leave. If we see democracy erode in our great democratic nation, it is not un-loyal to speak up and say “we can be better than this, I know we can.”

I went to the website “yourmorals.org” and took the survey, and one of the questions stuck out to me: “should you give help to a member of your family even if they do something wrong?” I like to think that I would. I believe that there must be some network, some community looking out for each and every person, even those who commit grievous errors. Now, let’s be clear that one must also put up boundaries. This is not disloyal. One should think carefully about giving money to a cousin you know is a heroine addict. We must keep our children protected from relatives or friends who have transgressed sexual boundaries. Keeping those boundaries is part of loyalty.

Here’s a question that often pits liberals against conservatives: “should you be loyal to your country even if you think it has done something wrong?” Remember the old rallying cry: “America: love it or leave it?” I want to challenge that old chestnut and say that this is not really loyalty. I think real loyalty sounds more like “America: love it… or work to make it a great country for all.” I want folks who think critically about government to reclaim the word “loyal.” Do you believe that those folks out shivering in the cold in an Occupy tent city are disloyal? I don’t believe they are. I think it takes a tremendous amount of loyalty to speak truth. And I have to say the same thing about those standing on tired cold feet at Tea Party protests. To me it is more loyal to stage a protest than to just give up on the democratic process and stop voting, stop paying attention, stop caring. To me political loyalty is not a passive thing, but an active one. We show our loyalty by showing up, by paying attention, and by hanging in there on good days and on bad.

After I realized that I was never going to be a professional opera singer and before I knew that I wanted to be a minister, I went to work for a company called Clendenin Brothers Inc. They made non-ferrous fasteners, and had been doing so since the 1865, because a port town like Baltimore needs rivets for ship-building and repair. Almost everyone in the front office had started in one of two jobs- the switchboard operator (my job) was the entry level job in the accounting department, and from there folks  advanced to biller, then to accounts receivable, then payables. The Sales intern usually became a sales person, and in fact the head of sales had been the sales intern almost 50 years back. I didn’t understand the politics as well in the factory, which was right there in the same building, but I knew that many of those who worked in the factory had been with the company for a long time. The company was loyal to its employees. If you were hired at Clendenin Brothers and worked hard, you could spend your life there, and each year the boss would stand in the loading dock handing out Christmas Turkeys and Hams.

When I spilled soda on the switchboard, a mistake that cost the company over $1000, I wasn’t fired, I got a very serious talking to by my boss, the comptroller. I confess I made a number of mistakes on that job, and each time, quietly, patiently, my boss and I talked about what changes I could make so that those mistakes wouldn’t happen again. Hardly anyone ever got fired, and hardly anyone ever quit.

One of my jobs as the switchboard operator was to interface with the vending machine guy. Being the kind of entrepreneurial young woman I was, when we received a proposal for a new vending machine contract, I presented it to my boss. I had heard enough complaints at the front desk about moldy food in the machines that I thought it was time to make a change. My boss said, “We have to think really carefully about this. We never leave a vendor lightly. Try to work it out with the current guy first, then we’ll talk about it.” This was a company that was loyal to its employees, to its vendors and to its customers. And I know that at least the employees in the front office were very loyal in return.

Is loyalty a Unitarian Universalist value? And if it is, do we believe that Unitarian Universalism is something we could trust with our loyalty? This, I think, is a question we struggle with mightily. Because so many of us grew up in other faith traditions, we often speak most loudly about the importance of “Our chosen faith” …of choosing. We value so highly the wisdom of diverse religious traditions that in my Athens Congregation we just spent 18 months teaching our teens about those neighboring faiths, and visiting those traditions as they gather in worship. But we have to be careful not to let loyalty to this faith become the null curriculum, that is, what we teach by what we leave out. Instead, let us fearlessly say to our children, if it is our truth, this is a good faith, and one that will walk with you all your life as you search for meaning and try to live lives that are compassionate and just.

Let us not forget to tell our children that if they choose to commit to this Unitarian Universalist tradition, it will be there for them in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.  When we speak of “our chosen faith”, I encourage us to think of choosing in the same way that we may choose to enter into a marriage, rather than the way we choose a new TV at the electronics store. Because when you new get your TV home that first day and you’ve figured out the remote, that is about the best that relationship is ever going to be. But when you enter into relationship with a faith tradition, with a particular beloved community, that relationship has the potential to get deeper and richer and closer year after year as life itself changes and grows. Perhaps loyalty is like putting down roots- which takes time. The deeper the roots, the more the tree is able to weather storm and drought, the more channels of communication and sharing are open between and among the trees and other life forms in a grove.

As Olympia Brown, the first Ordained woman preacher in America, preached to her Racine congregation in 1920:

 “Stand by this faith. Work for it and sacrifice for it. There is nothing in all the world so important as to be loyal to this faith which has placed before us the loftiest ideals, which has comforted us in sorrow, strengthened us for noble duty and made the world beautiful.”

Loyalty takes many forms: loyalty to country, to a partner, to friends, to family, to employer or employee. Loyalty sometimes runs in the face of  the cultural patterning that we should always crave something better, something more, as if the next friend, the next partner, the next job will be better than what we have now. When we claim Loyalty as an important value we are remembering that some things grow slowly with time and commitment, and that these things are of profound and satisfying value, even when they are hard, even when exciting new things sparkle in the distance. Loyalty is about giving relationships time to put down roots, to spread their branches, and to blossom and bear fruit

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[i] http://billmoyers.com/content/what-do-your-morals-say-about-your-politics/

[ii] http://www.uua.org/statements/statements/19935.shtml

[iii] http://www.uua.org/statements/statements/14251.shtml

[iv] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/25/united-states-divorce-rat_n_935938.html

The Great Awakening (October 14, 2012)

Usually when I tell a story of the struggle between the establishment and the radical underdogs working to breathe new life and freedom of expression into stale traditions, we Unitarian Universalists identify with the radicals. But at the time when the first great awakening swept New England beginning in 1734 our Unitarian roots were sunk into the  Boston Establishment. Folks stirred by the Great Awakening felt that the established religion of the day had strayed from Puritanism. One of these was Charles Whitefield who wrote in his journal that: “It has the form of religion kept up, but has lost much of it’s [sic] power. I have not heard of any remarkable stir for many years… There is much of the pride of life to be seen in their assemblies. Jewels, patches, and gay apparel are commonly worn by the female sex. The little infants who were brought to baptism were wrapped up in such fine things, and so much pains taken to dress them, that one would think they were brought thither to be initiated into, rather than to renounce the pomps and vanities of this wicked world.” [i]

It was not just the worldliness and “lack of stirring” that concerned Whitefield; he was disturbed by the theology emerging among the established churches.  Whitefield wrote that “Bad books are becoming fashionable among tutors and students.” By this he meant a growing tendency towards “Arminianism” which suggested that people are born with both the capacity for sin and for righteousness.  This would mean that God’s will was not the final factor; we could chose God’s grace, or we could choose to sin. These ideas were contrary to Calvinism, which taught that God’s will was sovereign, that only God could decide whether we were and part of the elect or we were sinners. The idea that we were free to choose whether to choose sin or salvation became popular among Baptists, Methodists, and Congregationalists. It was those Congregationalist churches, that would one day be some of the first Unitarian churches; by the early 19th century, Unitarianism had converted 9 of Boston’s original 13 orthodox Congregational churches.

Whitefield criticized the puritan style churches of his day saying that Many Bostonians “rest in head-knowledge, are close to Pharisees”[ii] In contrast, this radical new movement, the Great Awakening, was characterized by “Great fervor and emotion in prayer”. Whitefield had grown up in England, and came to America in 1739 to evangelize. He worked here as an Itinerant Methodist preacher (traveling town to town) and is considered to be a central figure of the Great Awakening. Whitefield had a powerful preaching style that was quite new to his puritan audiences. He was known to preach out of doors, in part because he commanded crowds of thousands which couldn’t fit into the local churches but certainly also because in England the traditional churches would not allow him to preach within their walls. News reports of the day say that he would preach in a field, on tree stumps, or even, one report said, on a horse. This was a movement that appealed to working folks, who felt that the establishment churches did not speak to them. Whitefield even preached to slaves, which scandalized many in the traditional churches. Evangelicals today believe that the Great Awakening fostered such revolutionary sentiment that it fomented the Revolutionary war.

Whitefield was a preacher who could engender great feelings in his audiences.  David Garrick, then the most famous actor in Britain said of his preaching: "I would give a hundred guineas," he said, "if I could say 'Oh' like Mr. Whitefield." Jonathan Edwards's wife, Sarah, remarked, "He makes less of the doctrines than our American preachers generally do and aims more at affecting the heart. He is a born orator. A prejudiced person, I know, might say that this is all theatrical artifice and display, but not so will anyone think who has seen and known him."

The opposition looked on this with suspicion. One of the folks at the center of that opposition was Charles Chauncy (1705-1787) minister of the First Church Boston (Congregationalist). He championed the role of reason in religion, and was suspicious of all these expressions of emotion. Chauncey wrote:

 “The next thing I shall take Notice of, as what I can’t but think of dangerous Tendency, is that Terror so many have been the Subjects of; Expressing itself in strange Effects upon the Body, such as swooning away and falling to the Ground, where Persons have lain, for a Time, speechless and motionless; bitter Shriekings and Screamings; Convulsion-like Tremblings and Agitations, Strugglings and Tumblings, which, in some Instances, have been attended with Indecencies I shan’t Mention; None of which Effects seem to have been … peculiar to some particular Places or Constitutions; but have been common all over the Land…” [iii]

Though Whitefield may have been a particularly skilled orator, the emotional and spiritual passions of participants in services during the Great awakening movement, including visions and trances, seem to have been wide spread. The preachers would stress the sinful nature of humans and their utter incapacity to overcome this nature without the direct action of the grace of God working through the Holy Spirit. There was a focus, in these services, on the necessity of Conversion or “new birth.”  This conversion would be not a new understand of ideas, but a visceral, emotional, spiritual, transformative experience.

Another hallmark of this movement was the role of Itinerant preachers (often without formal ministerial training). Chauncey retorts:  “Some of these Itinerants, ‘tis evident, have traveled about the Country preaching under the full persuasion of an immediate Call form God; and as to most of them, it may be feared, the grand Excitement, at the Bottom, has been, an overfond Opinion of themselves and an unchristian one of their brethren. It has, therefore been their practice, too commonly , not only to boast of their own superior Goodness, wherever they have gone; but to insinuate suspicions against the fixed pastors, if not to preach against them, and pray for them, as poor, carnal unconverted men.” [Parke p. 52] Chauncey worried about a preacher who “mistakes the workings of his own passions for the divine communications, and fancies himself immediately inspired by the SPIRIT OF GOD, when all the while he is under no other influence than that of an over-heated imagination.” [Robinson p. 12] Ironically one of those Chauncey mentions with suspicion was “A stranger who has of himself assumed the character of a preacher.” This stranger was John Murray, the founder of the first Universalist church in America.

Another important preacher of the Great Awakening was Jonathan Edwards, a Congregational minister in Northampton, Mass. He had Studied at Yale, where he read Newton and Locke. He lost the church he served as their minister by stating that “a public profession of saving faith based on the candidate's religious experiences as a qualification not only for Holy Communion but also for church membership.” Dismissed from his church in 1750, got job in Indian mission at Stockbridge. Eventually he became President of the College of New Jersey (now Princeton) in 1757. He died young from side effects of small pox inoculation. [iv]

What is important about Edwards is his Influence on Congregational and Presbyterian theology. Being a learned man, he was able to put together a Defense of determinism (Calvinism)-- a sort of neo-orthodoxy. He postulated that the notion of Free will undermines god’s sovereignty. He said in his famous sermon "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God:"

The world of misery, the lake of burning brimstone, is extended abroad under you...Hell’s gaping mouth [is] wide open, and you have nothing to stand upon or take hold of...It is only the power and mere pleasure of God that holds you up...The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you. You have offended him...0 Sinner! You hang by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it, and ready every moment to singe...and burn it asunder. You have nothing to lay hold of to save yourself. There is nothing that you have ever done, nothing that you can do, to induce God to spare you one moment. [v]

Another who spoke out in opposition to the Great Awakening was Jonathan Mayhew (1720-1766). He was the minister of the West Church in Boston (congregational) and was a proponent of that Armenian Liberalism. Said Mayhew “God is a ‘Wise and infinitely gracious being’” by reason “we resemble God Himself.” He preached that Man can choose right and wrong (the central doctrine of Arminianism) and of the Trustworthiness of reason and conscience (a founding principle of American Democracy). Generally the tenants that held together that opposition to the Great Awakening were important tenants for Unitarians throughout our history: The belief in Human goodness and free will, the Unity of God and the importance of using Reason in studying scripture.

Rationalism, Biblicism and moral aspiration- these were the early response to 1^st great awakening. Perhaps for some the cool light of reason was a relief set alongside the heated passion of the revival meetings. For some the use of reason in interpreting the bible restored sure footing in a time when itinerant preachers teaching out of a personal sense of call, imbued with the spirit. And Moral Aspiration- the idea that we could of our own free will choose to do right, is it any wonder that this idea grew in response to the hopelessness of feeling oneself held over a fiery pit on a slender thread “There is nothing that you have ever done, nothing that you can do, to induce God to spare you one moment.”

It turns out there were 4 “great awakenings” all together, and I think the Second Great Awakening (1825-35) had the most direct impact on Universalism. This great awakening was another revival movement that emerged during the early 1800s, This second great awakening was a reaction against rationalism and desire for a church that served the needs of common people. The theology of the second great awakening embodied a transition between Calvinism and Arminianism, expressing a movement from god’s absolute sovereignty to god as “moral governor.” In this theological movement sin is seen now as a result of human action rather than predetermination by an all powerful God. There is still the immanent threat of Hellfire and damnation (which once again figured powerfully in the sermons of this second great awakening) but now the response to this knowledge is for humans to “repent.” It was called “New Haven” theology because of influence of Yale. Once again it was characterized by a  personal, emotional response to god. In Kentucky and Tennessee folks held interdenominational 4 day events called “camp meetings” which attracted thousands of people. The Camp meetings emphasized conversion with singing and shouting and dancing, and  folk style music. And once again Unitarians criticized the emotional displays of the revivals and argued that goodness sprang from gradual character building, not sudden emotional conversion.[vi]

One of the leaders of this movement was Charles Grandison Finney (August 29, 1792 – August 16, 1875) who has been called The Father of Modern Revivalism. He was an extemporaneous preacher, known for his innovations in preaching and religious meetings. For example, he  developed the "anxious seat", a place where those considering becoming Christians could come to receive prayer, and he lead public prayer for people by name. He also bucked the establishment by having women pray in public meetings of mixed gender. Finney was also an abolitionist. Perhaps it’s not surprising that a movement where both women and black persons participated, and a movement where folks were responsible for their own moral choices  would spark social action in areas like temperance and abolitionism. This was something I hadn’t realized -- I hadn’t realized that abolition was an area where liberal and evangelical theologies came together to create change. It makes me wonder how many other times liberals and evangelicals have stood shoulder to shoulder in the struggle for social change. I wonder if it could serve as an important model for us today.

This was not the only powerful religious movement of the day that swept through Western New York in particular. It is because of this period of religious fervor that the area between Albany and Lake Erie is called the “burned over” region of New York. The term was coined during second great awakening by Charles Grandison Finney, one of those 19^th century evangelicals, who had said that “the area had been so heavily evangelized as to have no "fuel" (unconverted population) left over to "burn" (convert).”

Universalism became a major antagonist of the Second Great Awakening and evangelical culture under the leadership of the great Universalist preacher Hosea Ballou. By articulating a doctrine of universal salvation, we pointed out and challenged the Protestant drift away from traditional Calvinist orthodoxy because this idea of repentance actually challenges god’s sovereignty. So in a way, the Universalists were the orthodox Calvinists during this period, because they believed that God was still all powerful, but had a loving, rather than a judgmental character.[vii] Between the first and second Great Awakenings, that “stranger” John Murray spread his radical idea through itinerant preaching, and we saw the settlement of the first Universalist churches (including the church of the Restoration in Philadelphia and later UUCAS) Now during the time of the second Great Awakening, Universalism grew from the radical fringe to be the 6^th largest denomination in the country, as folks were hungry for an alternative to hellfire preaching. It was during this period that many of the rural Universalist churches in Pennsylvania and New York.

As 21^st century UUs, we sometimes look at the passion and drama of the revival movements, those “great awakenings” from the vantage point of cool reason. We are proud to bring our rational minds into those most important questions- of who we are, of how we are to live, of how we are saved, and for what we are saved. It feels good to know that we can figure out with our own minds the important truths of life.  But sometimes we look at the passion and inspiration of these evangelical services, both in history and in our neighboring churches, wishing we could have that much heart, that much spirit in our Sunday worship.  A few years back I was teaching a class on “religion and the media” and we showed the clip of a revival meeting from a popular movie. When the clip was over, a number of us said things like “I wish I could feel the spirit like that in worship” but one of our older members who had been a child in Germany at the time of the second world war said “Oh, I don’t like it, it reminds me of the Nazi rallies during the war.” 

This is, perhaps, the natural ebb and flow of religion. We become tired of the old established ways, which seem to them boring, stale, and bereft of inspiration. We worry that we and our neighbors are following their religions teachings in name only, that “one would think they were brought thither to be initiated into, rather than to renounce the pomps and vanities of this wicked world.” Long to wake up from this spiritual sleepiness, we  long for revival. So we shake off the head-bound sermons of the learned clergy, and sing and dance and yell in a field or on a tree stump.

Sometimes this divide between those who let the heart rule and those who are ruled by the mind, the reason, can be  the deepest divide in religion, perhaps deeper than that of theological conflicts. If we understand and explore both kinds of knowledge, both kinds of spiritual truth, we increase not only our own spiritual wisdom but also our capacity to understand the spirituality, the theology of our neighbors. Our UU faith is more than the cool reason of our enlightenment forefathers. We have also in our history the passionate preaching of our itinerant Universalist forbearers. In fact, the congregation I serve in Athens started out as a Baptist church. And the old histories say that when an itinerant preacher called Noah Murray began  preaching in the twin tiers he drew such crowds that the Rev. Moses Park (minister of the Baptist church in Athens) went to debate with him but was himself  converted and soon his congregation with him.

This morning’s service seems kind of rooted in the head. We sang kind of old timey hymns and talked about our history, (except joys and concerns, which many call the heart of our service) but those were hymns of the great awakening. The words of John Edwards of dangling over hellfire seem strange to us now, but that same preaching sent folks into visions and trances. Yes sometimes, we are rooted in our heads, but also in our hearts and in the spirit of life. But I know this congregation has danced around a May Pole out in the field.  So Awakening, reviving is not something that can be done once, but is something which must be done again and again, each time we fall into rote routine, each time we fall out of balance whether that be as individuals, as a congregation, or as Unitarian Universalism. Let us always be awakening.

---

[i] Robinson. p. 10- from Whitefield’s journal

[ii] Robinson. p. 11- from Whitefield’s journal

[iii] From Chauncy ”Seasonal thoughts on the state of Religion in New England” cited in  Epic of Unitarianism p. 53

[iv] http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/edwards/

[v] http://www.ccel.org/ccel/edwards/sermons.sinners.html

[vi] http://www.sparknotes.com/testprep/books/sat2/history/chapter9section1.rhtml

[vii] [From The Universalist Movement in America, 1770-1880 by Ann Lee Bressler (Religion in America: Oxford University Press) http://www.wordtrade.com/religion/christianity/universalismR.htm]

Direct Experience of that Transcending Mysetry and Wonder (May 13, 2012)

Because I am a Universalist, I believe that everyone has the capacity for a spiritual life -- that everyone is on a spiritual journey. In fact, because I am a Universalist, I believe there is no part of our lives that happens outside of our spiritual journey; it is the nature of life. So I preach about washing the dishes, because this is part of our spiritual journey. I preach about social justice, because this is one of the main spiritual practices of Unitarian Universalism. But a longing to know spirit in its distilled form is part of our tradition as well. This Unitarian Universalist faith tradition holds, as the very first source of our living tradition “Direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life.” We believe that each person has the capacity to experience directly the forces that create and uphold life, to experience directly that transcending mystery. We don’t ask religious authority to mediate our relationship with the divine. We believe, with the humanist Curtis Reese “that every age must achieve its own faith.”

The Muslim tradition teaches that Mohamad was the last of the prophets and in Judaism it is said to be Malachai. Both traditions hold that with these prophets revelation was sealed. But traditionally Unitarian Universalists don’t believe this. We believe that revelation is ongoing, we, like the younger siblings in a large family, don’t want to settle for a “hand-me-down” revelation. We want to be pioneers and explorers ourselves. We, with the Psalmist, want to “Taste and see” (Psalm 34:8)

But part of the reason we talk about washing the dishes and working for justice as a way of seeking the spiritual life instead of talking about climbing to the proverbial mountain top is that not everyone feels called to climb that mountain. Some folks pursue wisdom and insight through the stories and writings of the great prophets and teachers, others by doing good work in the world. Right at this moment, that’s all I want. A quiet moment of reflection now and again, a thought provoking story, and good work to do. But when I was in seminary I wanted to taste for myself. I felt a deep seated desire to know more. Last month I talked about how those early humanists did not deny the existence of God, but “were in a distinctly anti-metaphysical mood.” Well, this month we are talking about the exact opposite impulse. For me the hunger that drove me to seek direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder was a hunger to know God.

I had spent already a couple of years in graduate school trying to know God through the intellectual search, reading and studying theology and all the other things folks need to know for the ministry. I had spent some time trying (and mostly it seemed like I was failing) to learn to meditate. But at some point I wanted more than to write and think about the divine, I wanted to know for myself. When I was studying in Berkeley, there was then as there are now a group of teachers who lead “Satsang” which means “being in the presence of truth.” One of those teachers talked about this hunger, this craving to experience spiritual truth, and she said that this hunger is the prerequisite for this kind of seeking. Without this hunger, one cannot experience the truth.

I went to see one of my professors- Prof. Yielbanzie Charles Johnson, one of the only professors who talked explicitly about the life of the spirit. He had said often enough in class “If you want to have spirit in your life, you need to invite spirit into your life.” Even so, I felt a little crazy asking him my questions- both about how to invite spirit into my life, and how to ground that search to keep from drifting off into the ether. I was worried that most of the esoteric spiritual practices come from outside our UU tradition, but Yielbanzie reminded me that being deeply present with the natural world is one path that has been part of our UU tradition for generations. Immersing oneself in nature, listening and emptying and being filled in a forest or in a desert like the girl in this morning’s story, these are part of our own heritage.

All of the major religions traditions have seekers of direct experience, they are called mystics. (Some of our best known UU mystics are the transcendentalists.) If you read some of the poetry or writings of mystics from very different traditions you will notice tremendous similarities in what they describe. For example, many traditions suggest that one needs a teacher of some kind, a guide. Many recommend a community of learners. Because if you go on this journey you are specifically seeking something beyond your understanding, you are seeking something powerful. It is good to have people to talk with and keep you company on the way, to keep you on the right path.

I have found that the practice of grounding is critical- right from the start. I often visualize my own body putting down roots into the earth whenever I want to invite the spirit into my life. But this grounding can take many forms. It is important for every person to have their own anchor, and to be conscious of it, especially when coming into encounter with something new. Parts of this anchor might be your sense of right and wrong, your knowledge of who you truly are, your religious tradition, or your connections to the web of community and life all around you.

Most traditions emphasize that one important grounding practice which must be taken up before one goes deeper is living an ethical life. For example, in the 8 limbed path of yoga, the first limb is “Yama” which means ethical living. If you are going on a journey up the spiritual mountain, you don’t want to be carrying a lot of baggage. If you are stealing from your boss and cheating on your wife, this is the very first thing that is going to jump out at you on your journey – the demons of not being right with yourself and with your community.

It is also recommended that one have some kind of spiritual practice, or discipline. When I was at the University of Creation Spirituality on my sabbatical, we would have a seminar each morning, then for 3 hours each afternoon we would have “art as meditation.” During one of our intensives I studied chanting and meditation with Russill Paul who called this the “technology of ecstasy.” He reminded us that this is not a new search; there are helpful guideposts and teachings passed down to us for generations.

One could spend one’s whole life following these practices and noticing different energetic sensations and trance states not usually found in the ordinary experience. But as the Buddha and so many spiritual teachers have pointed out, there are any number of traps and detours on the way to pure experience. For example, I practice Hatha yoga. This is only one part of the 8-limbed path. It would be easy to get trapped in trying to do poses perfectly, or in accomplishing that cool pose on the cover of Yoga Journal, but the actual goal of yoga is “Samadhi” or union with the divine. Any path you take has the risk of sidetracking you from your real journey. For example, I heard a student of meditation explain that after practicing for years he finally reached a state of pure bliss. He rushed to his teacher to share the good news and the teacher gaves them a good whack on the head, because bliss is not the goal- pure awareness is the goal. So when we get off track, our spiritual practice, our teachers, our community can help ground us.

Along with the importance of grounding, I want to lift up the role of the heart in this journey. When I was studying Kundalini yoga, we spent time each class meditating on our heart center --literally on this area in our chest, which is also the location of the heart chakra. We would practice centering our attention there and cultivating a certain kind of feeling, or energy. I’m making both a metaphysical and a humanist point here; the heart is the node of the energetic system where the spiritual and the physical meet. But more importantly, it is the seat of compassion. No matter what kind of journey you are no, no matter where you are your journey, always start with your heart, always ground yourself in compassion --compassion for yourself, and compassion for all living beings. Says the great Christian Mystic Teresa of Avila, “if you are not certain about your relationship with God, stop worrying about it, focus on loving your neighbor, and the God-question will take care of itself.” (quoted in Sally McFague “A Climate for Change” p. 154)

And when you are firmly established in your anchor and your heart, my teacher Yielbanzie advised “ask earnestly, pay attention.” Yielbanzie had suggested that I “look for that thing that may not appear to be obvious… your help may come from where you least expect it.” I took his advice seriously. Instead of looking for confirmation of what I already thought I knew, I changed my focus to those things which surprised me, and realized I was thrilled to know there was still something in the nature of our experience that could surprise me. One fellow traveler said “whenever things get really weird or confusing or difficult, you know that you are really in it- you are right there in the mystery.”

I began a habit of listening to everything as if it was that help coming from some place I wouldn’t expect it. And I kept up my practices- I was at this time keeping a journal of my journey, I was keeping a dream journal and participating in a regular dream group, and I was studying Kundalini yoga, which included some very interesting and exciting things and also sometimes just the mind-numbing process of focusing your attention on a single point until you wanted to climb out of your skin. I spent a number of years devoted to this search. I didn’t have children to care for, and my work was preparing for and then beginning to serve the UU ministry, so this kind of search fit very well with the other factors in my life. I am so blessed to have had that time, a time I think of as my climb up that proverbial mountain.

I never did arrive at the top of the mountain -- just high enough to get above the tree line where the air is clear, and where you have a wide view of everything around you. I came away with a feeling that we were all part of something so much bigger than ourselves, and that we were held in love. I finally had answers to some of the questions I had been asking my whole life, and also just became comfortable simply being in the presence of mystery.

Theology, which had seemed so complicated in my systemic theology text books, started to seem simpler and simpler, and eventually it occurred to me that there is no you and I, there is no other to search for because all are one. How far I had to travel to come home to this very Universalist truth. But, as Gangaji says “to hear it, even to understand it, to memorize it, to hope it’s true is not enough. It has to be discovered Directly.”

When Yielbanzie preached at my ordination, he preached about getting lost, because I had taken so fully to heart this idea that if I wanted to find truth I had to follow the spirit even if it lead to strange places. In particular, he told the story of how our seminary class went to do our final ritual at a nature preserve, and when the whole class followed the sign that said “I took the path less traveled by” I assumed that meant I should take the other path, and went tromping deep into the brush by myself. On that very real journey, as on my spiritual journey I eventually realized that if I was ever going to rejoin the community of persons, I was at some point just going to have to turn around and head back-- that eventually I had to go back down the mountain. Some folks are called to be holy men or women living on the side of the mountain, making camp in the desert, but it became clear to me that I had to ground my spiritual life in the daily fabric of living. The 15th century Sufi poet Kabir writes “Be strong then, and enter into your own body; there you have a solid place for your feet. Think about it carefully! Don’t go off somewhere else!”

And so the spiritual journey must begin and end with Grounding. Just as at the close of a pagan circle one grounds the energy raised in the ritual, so ultimately our knowing, our search for the divine must be grounded in our body- in our very particular time and space. In that spirit, my husband and I bought a house, we had a son, I got a full time job, and I committed myself to building a just world. For me such mundane acts as working in the garden, helping my son with homework, cooking – these are right at the heart of spiritual living. Even though I am no longer blinded with the brightness of the spirit within them, I know from my time on an explicitly spiritual journey, from the insights I gained during that part of my life, I know that these things are infused with spirit. I would go so far as to say they are brimming with God. Whereas before I started an intentionally spiritual journey these things may have seemed boring or beside the point, today they seem infused with meaning and purpose. Even on those days where I feel stressed out or uninspired, that knowing lingers. The simplicity of the vision that grew for me on my journey supports me on my path even in the ordinary time when I can’t even see the mountain from under the grove of trees I call my life.

While I was at Satsang one evening, back in Berkeley so long ago, a middle aged man mentioned that when he was young he had experiences of being overwhelmed with the presence of God, the presence of spirit in his life. He had lived in that feeling for a while, but then it had receded and he, all these years later, missed it very much. The teacher said that this was not uncommon to have an intensity of experience as we first come to know God, but that later in a mature part of the journey, we don’t need to be hit over the head, we can listen for the divine in more quiet everyday places.

Because I am a universalist and I believe that everyone has access to that transcending mystery and wonder, I believe that one does not have to follow complicated or esoteric teachings to reach truth. The Buddhists teach that a simple breathing meditation is both appropriate for beginners and is a practice that leads to enlightenment. One of the central teachings of Gangaji is that we can, in any moment, cut through our normal way of thinking and get to the truth of things. It is fine to follow the esoteric teachings, the scenic route through the realms of spirit, but there is always a direct path, a simple path, because there are no elect, no chosen who have the special skills to achieve union with the divine. We are all on the path. I believe that those who hunger can find the spirit, as Lalla Says:

No ritual, No religion, Is needed. Just cry out one Unobstructed cry.”

Everyone is on a spiritual journey all the time. We cannot escape it. The monk on his meditation cushion, the mystic in her cell, the householder at the sink filled with soapy water. Because God, the spirit, the meaning of life, are fully present in the faces of our neighbors, in the quiet of the forest. They are as close as our own breath moving in and out. But if a hunger comes for more, for knowing more closely, for a direct experience of that transcendent mystery and wonder, treasure that hunger, nurture that hunger, and see what new place it might lead.