In Translation
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We are people of the word. Or, better said, people of words, many words. Words are one of the most important ways that we “know” things.
But words, to quote Henry Adams, are “slippery things,” and words mean different things to different people. Take the word “freedom.” To the privileged early Unitarians, freedom meant freedom of thought. To the African American community, however, it meant freedom from slavery and freedom from oppression. The two groups had a hard time talking.
For a recent church auction I offered to preach on the topic of the highest bidder’s choice, and the winning couple considered themselves to be on the humanist/atheist side of the big theological tent that we pitch. Here is what they asked me to speak about:
It’s difficult for us to translate religious language into something that makes sense to us. We end up tripping over words like God and prayer. Why are we always the ones who have to translate? Strip down that language to its core.
I shared with them this short description for their sermon: “The words we use to talk about the holy can close more doors than they open.” One of them responded: “I tripped over the word ‘holy’ a bit. ‘Holy’ can be one of my cringe words in the sanctuary, [especially] when it is followed by the word ‘one,’ rather than the word ‘cow.’”
Holy Cow!
After all, I was the one, as UUA President, who had called for a Language of Reverence and asked if our avoidance of traditional religious language was making it harder for us to connect with our deepest yearnings and most profound connections. In our association, I am the poster child for reclaiming the use of those words that require some of us to translate.
“Why are we always the ones who have to translate?” What I heard in that inquiry, more than anything else, was weariness. Because translation is work and having to translate can be a barrier to belonging.
When I was elected President of the UUA in 2001, I gave the benediction at that year’s General Assembly closing celebration. I tried to call our faith community to witness for justice and ended with a paraphrase of the prophet Isaiah (6:8): Here we are, Lord; send us.
I received several letters from women leaders, irate that I had used the term Lord. “I hope I never hear you use that word again. I thought we had put that patriarchal language behind us.” That was some of the gentler language.
One approach to dealing with language that no longer reflects our common assumptions or values is simply to discard it. Another approach is to search for and use only a kind of “least common denominator” language that the fewest of us will have to translate.
The sermon winners said: “For people like us who are atheists/humanists, we can still be excited about the wonder of the world, the flowers, the babies—without calling it ‘holy.’ Wouldn’t it be great if the religious people could translate ‘wonder’ into ‘miracle’—rather than our always having to translate religious language into what works for us?”
So what would that language sound like? Well, using congregation, perhaps, rather than church; meditation rather than prayer; message rather than sermon; spiritual rather than religious; yes rather than amen. (That is the original translation of “amen” after all. Just “yes.”)
And what about that biggest of words, the word that more folks react to, both positively and negatively, than any other—that word God? Perhaps the least worst way to talk about God is as Mystery. The mystery at the heart of things. I know, even that may sound like creeping theism: the mystery at the heart of things. I hope it doesn’t, but don’t we need some language that acknowledges that there is something beyond our own intellects and egos?
Each week when I pray, or invite the congregation into meditation together, I usually begin: “Spirit of Life. Spirit of Love. Dear God.” Three names—I know, not very Unitarian.
My hope is that however you name the mystery at the heart of things, or even if you choose not to name it, you will be able to find a handhold. By using many names I’m trying to convey that no one name holds absolute truth.
Spirit of Life, known by many names and no name. Allah. Buddha-nature. Power of Human Possibility. Yahweh. Brahma. Nature and its Cycles. God of Love.
But that becomes quite a mouthful. And I’m sure that some of us would trip over one or more of the names on that list.
Stripping away, leaving behind words that carry with them histories of being used to exclude, histories of being used to limit our spirits or even punish us, is one approach to this dilemma. But I would hate for us to move toward a list of forbidden words. The auction winners were not asking for that. They just don’t want to have to work so hard and translate so much. It tires them out.
How do we deal, in practical terms, with the religious diversity in this house of Unitarian Universalism?
We come hoping for, yearning for, so much. We come looking for affirmation of who we are, seeking more depth and meaning than we find walking in the ways of the world. We come hoping to be reminded of how we want to live. We come to celebrate the passages of our lives and to find support and consolation through life’s troubles. We come wanting so much and with such diverse histories.
What do we share?
What I know is this: we are all humanists in the broadest and (for me) most important understanding of that term. We know that if the Beloved Community is to be built, we will be the builders. Atheists and theists, humanists and pagans, Buddhists, Christians, Jews, those who resist any label—all of us, regardless of our particular theological beliefs, cultural heritage or current practices, agree on that core theological point of view.
If we are going to thrive as a vibrant pluralistic religious movement, the question of translation becomes critical. Because if we are going to use language that is evocative, language that leads us to depth, drawn from many traditions and sources, then we need to be mindful that each and every one who hears our words will be translating. All of us are hearing those words through our own life lenses, bringing our own meanings to the experience of being together.
Traditional religious words do have resonance. They remind us that across the centuries people have been gathering in churches and synagogues, in temples and mosques, around Seder tables and around solstice bonfires. They remind us that people have been gathering to seek affirmation, to find their place in the order of things, to search for meaning and direction in their lives that is deeper, more centered and grounded than the meaning we find today on concrete sidewalks that lead to the mall.
The resonance I hope we can find in the words we use is that history of longing and of hope, not the way those words have been used to justify violence and limit the human spirit. Those abuses are true, without a doubt, but so are the need and the hope that have been present at each of those gatherings.
So much can be lost in translation. Words are imperfect tools we use to tell our story, to know our truth. If we remember their limits, perhaps we can use them to greater benefit. If we remember that we are all and always translating, listening for the words beneath the words, then perhaps we will make more time and more space to listen and even to hear. Perhaps we can come to remember and understand not just the challenge, but also the gift of our being together, and the possibility for wholeness that gift can open for us.
There is also a role for silence in our being together. Silence with no words to trip over, no words to struggle with, just silence and the honesty it invites.
Wherever you are, whatever surrounds you at the moment, will you enter with me that space of silence and honesty, known by many names?
Spirit of Life and of Love. Mystery at the heart of things. May we find what we yearn for: Meaning, Direction, Acceptance and Love.
May we create a community where love guides us, helping us hear words under the words, helping us speak from our hearts in language that opens us to life, rather than closing us down. And may what we share be strong enough so that the community we create can sustain us all.
Alone, our vision is too limited to see all that must be seen and our strength too limited to do all that must be done. Together, there is more hope, and more help for us all on this small blue planet.
Yes.
Bill, as he prefers to be called, is well known for his service as President of the Unitarian Universalist Association (2001-2009). His tenure was marked by strong public witness for social justice and support for marginalized communities, commitments he continues here in Portland.
Bill’s commitment to liberal religion dates to his teenage years, when he was an active member of the First Unitarian Church of Cincinnati, Ohio. He served as the president of Liberal Religious Youth, the continental Unitarian Universalist (UU) youth organization. He had a successful career in the corporate world and ran his own business in the housing field. In later years he returned to Cincinnati and served his home church as a lay leader until he answered the call to ministry in 1992.
After completing his Master of Divinity degree at Starr King School for the Ministry in 1995, Bill joined the UUA staff where he served until he was elected to the Presidency. Bill earned his B.A. from Harvard in 1968 and also holds honorary doctorates from Tufts University and Meadville/Lombard Theological School.
During his years of service to the denomination (“a seventeen year detour,” as he describes it), Bill never lost his goal of being a pastor to a congregation. “My service at First Church fulfills my calling to ministry. I am finally able to preach to congregants whose stories I know, whose children I’ve dedicated and whose elders I have memorialized.”
Bill was the first African American to lead any traditionally white denomination, and was named one of the ten most influential Black religious leaders in the US in both 2005 and 2006. He and his wife Maria have four adult children, and one grandchild, William Rider Sinkford, born in July 2008.
- Rise in Body or in Spirit - February 1, 2017
- In Translation - September 1, 2014
- Finding the Blessing - March 1, 2011
