Transformation vs. Acceptance
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Transformation is part and parcel of most religious groups. The work of a faith community is to build a better world and to help each other become better people, to be open to the grace of God in our lives.
But it is right around here that I start to stumble a bit. I am a big fan of grace. I talk about grace a lot. I don’t insist that we all see it as “the grace of God,” but I do call us to see grace as a power that can bring out the best in us and help us through the hard times. That’s not the part that makes me stumble. What gives me pause is when the full meaning of that word transformation finally catches up with me.
Let me give you an example. During one of my first years with my congregation I was struggling to imagine what to say on a Stewardship Sunday. I’d figured out I couldn’t just talk about money—I knew that much already. So I was looking for an angle to speak about how important the congregation is to its people. I wanted to hear about what this place means. So I started asking for stories of transformation: “How has this congregation transformed you?” And you know what? That question really didn’t get us anywhere.
I found person after person saying, “I don’t know that I’ve been transformed here, I don’t think that’s the right word.” People would talk about how the community helped them live out their values, encouraged them to be better people, gave them support in justice issues they cared about or just support to get through another week in their hectic lives. One person finally hit the nail on the head for me when she pulled me aside and said, “No I don’t feel transformed by this congregation. What I feel is accepted, and that makes all the difference.”
And I knew that. But I get hooked by the shiny side of transformation. I get caught by the thought that our community can build a better world, that it does change lives and truly makes a difference for people. But all of that can happen without it needing to be transformation. I know that. Because when I sit back and really think about it, transformation is major stuff. It’s about a complete overhaul.
In a sermon at a UU ministers’ convocation in Asilomar, California, Rev. Jane Rzepka said something that has shaped my thoughts on transformation ever since. She told us ministers gathered there:
But I have to tell you the truth. When it comes to your complete personal Transformation, I’m wary. The thing is, I pretty much like all of you to begin with. I like who you are, what you look like, who you’ve chosen to love, how you do ministry, how you’re motivated to grow. I like that you have your own trajectory, your own background, I like that you have a theology unique to yourself, and I like that you have your quirks. I like that you look like yourself and act like yourself—in fact generally speaking, my own theology calls for promoting your being who you are. And if by Friday you have each transformed yourselves into an auditorium full of different colleagues, I’m going to be feeling mighty discombobulated and a little disappointed.
Personal Transformation is a big deal. It’s more than being changed. You are not the old person at all; you are a whole new person. Those of you who have been through it speak of a crushing, transformative illness or accident, or grappling with addiction or a destructive relationship, or the devastating loss of someone you loved, or the painful yet life-saving coming-to-grips with who you really are, the lifting of burdens. I don’t hear so much about ecstatic Transformation born of wonder, but some among you may have had that experience. Whatever the case, personal transformation blasts you right off the horse and leaves you dazed and blind for a few days at the very least. Nothing to trifle with. Nothing to promise on our church Websites as an every Sunday experience, 52 Sundays a year.
We’re not talking about small self-improvements here, we’re not talking about losing ten pounds, or getting involved at the Islamic center, or having a new insight about prison reform. Sure, go ahead and learn to be more patient or generous or open or welcoming, make a new commitment to political work in Nigeria or your latest writing project, find more room for joy, move toward healing in therapy or through love or by feeling the rhythms of the Pacific—I’m all for it, don’t get me wrong. Each of us needs to make some changes. But Transformation!
Transformation means complete and total metamorphosis. Caterpillar to butterfly, solid to liquid, man into beast, bread into wine. And certainly some of us may be ready to embrace that. But I’m not sure I want all four hundred of us to sign up for it without giving it some serious thought. I would, of course, like to be a better person, and if I make some progress in that direction between now and Friday, that would be welcome.
But I think that most weeks I am like a lot of our parishioners—not all, but most—when I say that I’m not looking for a religion that tells me from the get-go that I need a complete overhaul. I’m looking for a religion that first and foremost welcomes me as I am, a busy, flawed, often bewildered person who is doing her best in a complicated world.
If I were sitting in your pew-chairs this evening, about now I’d be muttering, oh, she’s quibbling, it’s all just semantics. But no, we’re not talking semantics here; we’re talking about a foundational theological statement: Are you good enough to walk into Unitarian Universalism as you are, or do we need you to change into something other than you are? Do we lead with acceptance and an embrace, or do we tell you that you need to be transformed? Can’t have it both ways.
And I take the side of welcoming you as you are. You know the Mary Oliver thing, “You do not have to be good./ You do not have to walk on your knees/ for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.” Well you don’t. That’s the Unitarian Universalist theological position, the non-Calvinist-no-original-sin religion I was born into, and I’m still drawn to it. Inherent dignity. Inherent worth.Our theology says you need not be transformed first. Come as you are and be blessed.
Two of my favorite stories about our 19th century forebear Hosea Ballou make this point through his Universalist theology. The first is something of a parable. He responded with this image when someone questioned his Universalist beliefs:
Your child has fallen into the mire, and her body and her garments are defiled. You cleanse her, and array her in clean robes. The query is: Do you love your child because you have washed her? Or did you wash her because you love her?
And another story comes as he was visiting a member of the town and saw her sweeping the kitchen floor. He asked: Did you require someone to sweep the floor clean before you would sweep it, good woman? You can imagine her response: What a ridiculous question, of course not. Ballou’s point was: So it is with God. You need not have already been cleansed before God will accept you and make you clean.
Our theology says you need not be transformed first. Come as you are and be blessed. Yet it must be some foible of my own that keeps me looking to that shiny idea of transformation. I am drawn to stories of how people have overcome despair and struggle to come out the other side. But when I relax I can see the truth of it. We are a place of acceptance, and that in itself is powerful and rare and allows us to be an amazing community of grace in our own unique and authentic style.
Being accepted is major stuff. And as Carl Rogers says:, “It wasn’t until I accepted myself just as I was in this moment, that I was free to change.” A pre-condition to true transformation, then, is to accept ourselves in the moment.
So maybe one way Unitarian Universalism can find an authentic way into the idea of transformation is to start with acceptance. Maybe we can hear the call for transformation not as a hint that we are somehow not good enough as we are, that we are flawed and unacceptable as we begin.
Maybe, instead, we can hear it the way a Zen Buddhist master once put it: “You are perfect just the way you are…and you could use some improvement.” You are acceptable, even perfect. You are who you are and it is beautiful. But don’t stop! Keep growing, keep improving, keep getting better.
Maybe the call to transformation is a call to continue to grow, not because who you are now is not good enough, but rather because who you yet can be is still more amazing! It is not static. Nothing is. Change is a constant, and what is transformation but the most extreme form of change? But change in itself is not good or bad; it just is.
Consider the song we sing from our hymnal (#188) with words by Rumi:
Come, come, whoever you are, wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. Ours is no caravan of despair. Come, yet again, come.
It doesn’t say:
Welcome to the place where we sit down at the end. It says: Welcome to the journey, welcome into the caravan. Let’s move.
Perhaps our work in Unitarian Universalism is not to help anyone transform, but to get us through a transformation should one arrive. Our call may be to help build up community support and strength of spirit to sustain us through a transformation should we find ourselves in one.
Our work here is acceptance first. And in accepting, may we provide the resources for each of us to also be more accepting of each other, and of the unfolding of life. As we create this community of support and acceptance, may we also build the capacity for each of us to weather our storms, and be transformed.
Changes have been made in this piece, so that Jane Rzepka’s exact words have been substituted for paraphrasing by Douglas Taylor.
An Apology
by Douglas Taylor
In the January 2015 “Transformation” edition of Quest, I had a sermon titled “Transformation vs. Acceptance.” In that sermon I gave passing mention to Jane Rzepka for the concepts I was writing about. I failed to indicate the extent to which my thinking, and indeed my words, were borrowed from Jane’s work.
This failure resulted in plagiarism on my part. The fourth point listed in our UUMA Code of Conduct is: “I will honor the intellectual property of others, assuring that appropriate attribution is given to avoid intentionally creating the impression that the work of others is my own.” I dishonored (Jane) by giving the impression that they were my insights.
It is my hope that my mistake will not block me from the deep collegiality I need to do my ministry in our movement. And I hope that these amends I offer will open others to see more clearly the importance of our relationships and how we can best show our respect and honor to one another.
- An Apology - March 1, 2016
- Transformation vs. Acceptance - January 1, 2015
