Comfort ye, my people
Unitarian Universalists ought to be paying attention to what is happening in mainline Protestant denominations in the United States these days. This may seem counterintuitive to some; our religion has a Protestant heritage, of course, but the content and focus of much of Unitarian Universalist religious life ceased a long time ago to have Christianity at its center. We are a small religious minority in this country, not obviously part of any kind of “mainline.” Nevertheless, it’s worth recognizing that while we are theologically distinct from mainline Protestant denominations, there are a number of things we have in common socially and culturally: both Unitarian Universalists and mainline Protestants tend toward liberalism in theology, emphasizing a faithful life rather than any “one true way”; in both Unitarian Universalism and mainline Protestantism we see women in leadership roles, and we both tend toward progressive positions on social issues like civil rights and equality for women; Unitarian Universalism has the Welcoming Congregation program to affirm the rights and dignity of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender persons, and we find analogous stances in the Protestant mainline, such as the Open and Affirming congregations in the United Church of Christ, the Reconciling in Christ program of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and of course openly gay leaders like V. Gene Robinson have gained prominence in the Episcopal Church. Like Unitarian Universalists, mainline Protestants tend to worship in white-majority congregations; we both have historically been socially, economically, culturally and politically prominent in American society; our congregations tend to feature a prominent representation of educated, middle-class or affluent persons.
Another thing we have in common with the Protestant mainline in America is that we are declining in numbers. In terms of the sheer number of people belonging to congregations, Unitarian Universalists are not in the precipitous numerical free-fall of some mainline Protestant denominations, but neither Unitarian Universalists nor mainline Protestants are numerically growing. Given all these commonalities, religious liberals such as ourselves ought to be paying attention to the so-called “mainline,” whether or not we ourselves consider ourselves a part of it.
Finley Peter Dunn’s memorable aphorism about a newspaper’s role of comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable has also been applied to other realms of human endeavor, including the religious enterprise. There are ways in which both Unitarian Universalists and mainline Protestants might fit someone’s definition of “comfortable.” The idea that every mainline Protestant and every Unitarian Universalist is well-educated and middle-class or affluent is patently false, and even if it were true, it is a monstrous absurdity to think that material wealth equals happiness — given that, say, cancer, domestic violence, alcoholism, or bipolar disorder are no respecters of socio-economic status. At the same time, it would be irresponsible not to at least ponder the possibility that it is not difficult to find persons in a Unitarian Universalist or mainline Protestant congregation who are individuals of means and influence, and/or people whose anxieties do not necessarily include wondering where their next meal is coming from.
I can’t speak for any other religious communities, but my experience of Unitarian Universalist congregations is that we are often motivated by a strong desire to be comfortable. There is some insight (and perhaps even a tiny bit of truth?) to the old joke: “Why are UU congregations sing hymns so badly? Because they’re all scanning ahead to make sure they agree with the words.” It is almost axiomatic in some of our congregations that some of our people are going to become discernibly upset if they hear something they don’t agree with. Our familiar tensions around, say, “the G-word” are emblematic of this. For me this raises a broader question: why are we attending a worship service in the hope of being comfortable? If we truly wish to plumb the depths of life’s meaning and death’s truth, won’t that necessarily involve some discomfort?
I am increasingly persuaded of the possibility that between the phenomenon of stagnant or declining numbers and the desire for comfort there exists a causative correlation. Everything in my experience persuades me that human beings yearn for environments of challenge in which we can grow. Such challenges can’t be demanding beyond our capability, or threatening beyond what we can endure, but they do need to extend beyond our comfort zones. We shouldn’t necessarily be surprised that our denomination is not growing numerically if we make comfort a primary goal. Whether or not we are indeed doing that remains an unanswered question, which is uncomfortable in and of itself.
Where we are most vital as a people of faith often seems to be in the places where we aren’t looking to be comfortable. The aforementioned Welcoming Congregation program, one of many things that makes me a proud adherent of this beautiful, flawed, human faith of ours, is a sterling example. It isn’t necessarily comfortable to confront the prejudices and injustices of our world and take a stand that some segments of our society condemn. Yet do we not feel called to this as our holy work?
Religious life should always be comforting: it should give us patience, strength and hope in our sorrow and pain. Being comforted and being comfortable are not the same thing.
Being Good for Nothing
I suppose I shouldn’t have said anything. But letting these things slide is, shall we say, not my strong suit. So when a Facebook friend posted a picture of a gun mounted under a car’s steering 
wheel with a caption about it being an “an anti-carjacking device,” accompanied by her wish that this were legal, I just had to put in my $.02 worth. I suggested that, given the prevalence of road rage, maybe more guns in cars might not be such a good thing. Only maybe there was the tiniest bit of sarcastic edge to the way I phrased it.
And, as these Facebook conversations go, someone else responded: “Wouldn’t you be more polite if you knew everyone else had a gun?” I don’t know whether the conversation got more serious for the other folks viewing the exchange at that point, but it certainly did for me. We had just entered the realm of religion. Here’s the thing. No, I’m not polite because I’m afraid of people around me with guns. I’m polite (at least I’m generally polite) because I just think people should be nice to one another. I’m happier, they’re happier, the world in general is happier if people are nice to one another. It’s a basic religious principle. Like, you know, the Golden Rule.
But there are plenty of folks in the world who believe that we need the guns in order to make people behave. Deterrence is at the heart of their theology. They figure that the sure knowledge of hellfire and damnation is the only thing that can keep people on the straight and narrow. Without the threat of hell, surely utter licentiousness would prevail and we would be sucked down into a whirlpool of degradation.
It’s a point of view to which they are entitled, but a) there’s no particular evidence that the threat of guns or the threat of hell actually makes people behave better on the average and b) really, how depressing can you get? Would you rather live in a world in which people are polite out of terror for their lives or souls, or would you rather be part of a community of people who cared for one another because love is the great sustaining principle? Isn’t it better, really, to be “good for nothing,” to be good without hope of reward or punishment other than the pleasure of doing what is right, kind, honoring of our connections?
Sure, there are people who do terrible things, who break the bonds of community in devastating ways. Carjackings do happen. But is the world a better place when we assume that any person on the corner is a potential threat, or if we assume that the folks we see outside our windows are neighbors, human beings with worth and dignity equal to our own? Which perspective is likely to make you feel safe? Which perspective is likely to bring you joy? Which perspective is one worthy of sitting at the heart of your religion? Me, I’ll go with the love every time.
It Could Have Been Otherwise
We spent the Fourth of July like many others do. We got together with family and friends, we had a cookout with way too much food, and we set off some fireworks once it got dark. The family fireworks are always a highlight of the day, and we all anticipated a great show this year. What we didn’t bargain for was the near-disaster they turned into.
As dusk fell the men (family tradition dictates that it’s always the men who prepare and set off the fireworks) brought out boxes and boxes of pyrotechnics (all legal, here in New Hampshire). We sorted through the stash, prepared the fuses, and decided what order we’d shoot them off. The rest of the family, including children, enjoyed blueberry pie and ice cream on the deck overlooking the “launch site.” The first several displays went off without a hitch. And they were met with appropriate “oooh’s” and “aaah’s” from the friendly crowd. As we try to do every year, we started off small, building up to the “big stuff” toward the end.
About halfway through our show, we had a little glitch. As rockets went soaring skyward, a couple, for unknown reasons, shot off to the side. One came buzzing by those of us standing near the pile of un-ignited fireworks. We laughed it off as an abberation and kept going, bringing out the “big guns” as we neared the end of our show. Then, right in the middle of one of the biggest displays we had, the entire thing blew up. It was a massive explosion that sent red-hot rockets sizzling in every direction. Including several that aimed right at the crowd. People dove for cover and ran in every direction. Once the smoke cleared, we took a headcount. Everyone was accounted for and safe. No one was injured by the blast. Never, in all the years of setting off family fireworks, had we had such a close call. (It wasn’t until the next day that we learned that another family suffered a similar malfunction that seriously injured several small children.)
Fortunately, my wife and daughter missed this whole incident. They had decided to drive our grandson home before the show began. But they had a close call of their own. As they rounded a bend in the road, my daughter noticed a large shadow looming off to the left. She slammed on her brakes just as a bull moose, standing as tall as her SUV, loped across the road right in front of them. Her quick reactions averted a disaster that could have led to their serious injury or worse.
After the smoke cleared from the fireworks malfunction and we found out everyone was all right, and later when I heard of my daughter and wife’s close call with the moose, I breathed a sigh of relief and uttered a silent “thank you” to the Universe that our family was intact, safe and sound. In both cases, it could so easily have been otherwise.
Close calls and near misses remind us of how precious, and how precarious, our lives are. And gratitude is the appropriate response to these reminders. It doesn’t matter to whom or what you pray your prayer of thanksgiving, or that you even call it a prayer at all. Whether or not you believe that it is “God’s will” that you or a loved one avoided tipping over into the abyss, or that it was fate, or plain, old dumb luck, we can’t help but give thanks that we and our loved ones are here to greet another sunrise.
The writer Jane Kenyon expresses this sentiment in her poem “Otherwise.”
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birchwood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
On the Fourth of July it could so easily have been otherwise. Someday it will be so, for me and mine, and for you and yours. For all the days until it is, let us experience and express our gratitude.
Peace,
Peter
Going to the Movies
“What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow: our life is the creation of the mind.” the DHAMMAPADA
This summer, I decided to use contemporary movies as the “texts” for the worship services at my congregation. Partly, this was because I hadn’t been to any movies for several months and this gave me an excuse to go to the movies in these hot summer months. But more than that it is because of the importance of stories, and movies are our contemporary shared stories.
Since humans have had consciousness and language, we have been telling stories. We all have stories; in some ways, we are stories. They are our memories; they are our dreams. Stories are how we share what is important and meaningful to us. They are how we tell each other who we are. Indeed, stories are how we tell ourselves who we are.
Some stories intrigue or entertain us and other stories distress or bore us. The first human stories were told, heard, remembered and re-told. Then the stories were written and collected. Some of those stories became sacred through re-telling. They gave communities identity and meaning. The stories explained the world, life and death. Some of those story collections came to be called scriptures which is a word that means writings. People still think about and learn from these old stories. We still tell, remember, write and read stories. But now a primary way of telling and receiving stories is through television and movies. We think about, talk about and learn from what we watch as well as what we hear. Film can be powerful and emotional. So, I decided this summer to talk about current movies, to see what we can learn from these films. What are the messages in these contemporary stories?
Of course, there can be many messages even in one movie, and as we watch a film, our own experience influences the message we receive. One theme that I experienced in the three movies that I have seen so far may well be part of every movie. The movies are The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, The Kid With A Bike and The Intouchables. In many ways, these are three quite different films, but all three show how we are transformed in relationships, especially in caring relationships. The movies’ stories are about love, courage and transformation, and because they are stories about life, they are also stories about loss and acceptance.
Authentic, open hearted and mutual relationships allow us to accept our sorrows and our joys and to become more of our own true selves. Even brief encounters if honest and open to the other can change us, and movies, too, have the potential to change us. Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, the brothers who made The Kid With A Bike, said of their films, “The moral imagination or the capacity to put oneself in the place of another. That’s a little bit of what our films demand of the spectator.” When we are our best selves, that “capacity to put oneself in the place of another” is the gift we give each other.
May your stories be heard and may you be open to others’ stories.
On Being a Murphyist
I have spent the last seven years in the occasional study of a religious system that I believe has
always existed, but has never been academically defined (except perhaps in secret by some graduate engineering students). My interest in this religious system is that my wife is an adherent, and in order to better understand her I needed to have a deeper understanding of her religious faith. Through that study, I have come to realize my wife is far from alone… that tens of thousands, if not millions of people believe, either explicitly or implicitly, as she does.
The name we have arrived at for this religious system (and a quick search of the internet shows we are not alone in this either) is Murphyism. At its core, it is the religious belief that the principle known as “Murphy’s Law” (Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong) is the guiding and unifying principle of the universe.
I will say from the outset that this article is a little tongue-in-cheek, but only a little. Perhaps because I am not a Murphyist I cannot fully grasp the seriousness with which the adherents of this faith take it. I know how serious it is, because I have seen it in this woman who has been my friend for 17 years, and partner for the last 10. So, I will attempt to place my own misguided lightheartedness aside, other than to say that if you find this article ridiculous, then you are not a Murphyist… but if it seems ironic to you, then you just might be a Murphyist…
I will also mention that this article has been approved by my wife, the Murphyist…
If you ever find yourself making backup plans for your backup plans… you might be a Murphyist. If you have ever dated someone because you think they might be “lucky”… you might be a Murphyist. If you are really interested in the results of crash tests when buying a car… you might be a Murphyist. If you set more than one alarm clock when you go to sleep at night… you might be a Murphyist. If the first thing you notice about a new room is the number of fire exits… you might be a Murphyist. If you look at a glass and see it not as half-full (optimist) or half-empty (pessimist) but as something that might spill on you… you might be a Murphyist. If you have thought up new things that you do that could fit within this paragraph… then you might just be a Murphyist. I’d love to hear those new “You might be a Murphyist if…” one-liners.
As with many religions, the origins of this one are shrouded in myth and mystery. The modern wording of this “truth” goes back at least 150 years, although there is evidence that it was old even in that time. Its initial modern codifications began in the fraught-filled field of military engineering, and some have traced the initial prophet Murphy to an Air Force Engineer in 1949… but even this is shrouded in mystery and controversy. As best as I can decipher the legend, it was the colleagues of an Air Force Captain named Ed Murphy who first noticed that he had an inherent penchant for disaster… and named the law appropriately.
At the core of this religious faith rests the immutable law “Anything that Can Go Wrong, Will Go Wrong”. This however is just the beginning of the religion, for from this center flows an entire theology. I have identified two separate branches of Murphyists: Secular/Rational Murphyists and Religious/Mystical Murphyists.
Secular/Rational Murphyists are those who believe that the workings of this law can be demonstrably shown to be an inherent part of the universe through observation and the scientific method. They do not perceive their Murphyism as a religious system, and often do not perceive themselves as religious at all. They can often be found in engineering and the physical sciences. The scientific method, with all of its checking, double checking, verified and reproducible results, is a comfort for them, yet they are not surprised when it does not work. They believe that Murphy’s Law itself exists and operates independently of any being or intelligence. Like gravity, it is a fact of existence. Its universality is a comfort for them, for they are able to say that, also like gravity, the law operates equally among all people… and any perception they might have that they seem to have worse “luck” than others must just be perception, not reality.
For the Religious/Mystical Murphyist, nothing could be further from the truth. They are deeply aware that the “Law” does not apply to all people equally. The experiences of their lives have convinced them that some people are more prone to the effects of this “Law” than others, and they sense a mischievous divine intelligence behind this fact. They look to past religious traditions that name “trickster” gods such as “Loki” and “Coyote” for their ancient sourcing. Put simply, the Religious/Mystical Murphyist believes that they are the “chosen” of the God Murphy, and often feel like a small mouse that a cat plays with. The God Murphy is a fickle, trickster God who cannot be appeased, only mitigated and suffered.
The Rational/Secular Murphyist believes that:
Murphy’s Law is the primary, guiding law of the Universe.
Murphy’s Law applies to all situations and all people equally, though humans may not always perceive its workings.
Systems such as the Scientific Method have been developed to allow humanity as a whole to mitigate the effects of this law upon progress.
Everything in human life should be checked at least three times by two or more people before it can be trusted, and then that trust should only be provisional.
When systems such as the scientific method and other checks are used and things still go wrong, there is no guilt or fault that attaches, because the universe is designed to go wrong (Chaos theory). You just find out how it went wrong this time, correct for that, and try again.
The Religious/Mystical Murphyist believes:
Murphy’s Law is the primary, guiding law of the Universe.
Murphy’s Law is manifested by a trickster God, named Murphy.
The effects of Murphy’s Law are not manifested equally throughout the universe. The God Murphy has chosen some human beings to be his “favorites”. They experience the effects of the law more profoundly than others.
The God Murphy cannot be appeased… only mitigated.
Some human beings, often termed “lucky” are mostly ignored by the God Murphy. Though this is unfair, it is simply the way things are.
Those who are the “chosen favorites” of the God Murphy have developed ways of living their lives that mitigate the effects of being the “chosen” of the God Murphy. Some of these strategies include always having multiple backup plans, utilizing all possible safety equipment, and spending time with (and sometimes becoming life-partners with) those that they perceive to be “lucky”, hoping for some balancing effect.
When things go wrong, Religious/Mystical Murphyists realize that is it probably not their fault. Fault only attaches if they can identify some precaution that they could have reasonably taken that they did not. If they took all reasonable precautions and things still went wrong, then the Religious/Mystical Murphyist remembers the God Murphy and seeks to mitigate any and all effects.
Each of these religious systems begins and ends in the same place… and in this beginning and ending lies the strength of each of these systems that I wish to hold up to close this article. I look forward to hearing from the Murphyists out there as to how well I have captured a snapshot of your religious system, as I am one of those “lucky” one’s that a Murphyist has married to seek some kind of cosmic balance. I freely admit that I am only seeing part of it, having not lived the reality myself.
The strength in each of these religious system is that they begin with a firm ideological foundation (Anything that can go wrong will go wrong) and the end with a way to place the fault for things going wrong on something besides the self, so long as one has done the hard work of precautions and testing that is the spiritual practice of the Murphyist. Thus, taking precautions, developing backup plans, testing possible results, cushioning consequences, purchasing safety equipment, etc… all of these become an intimate and intricate dance in the life of the Murphyist, be they religious or secular, rational or mystical. The Murphyist is called to live a life of preparation, knowing that all preparation will ultimately fail. However, if they can prepare well enough, then the God Murphy can shoulder any blame. The true Murphyist becomes an expert at “picking up the pieces” of that failure and trying again. It is all they can do.
As I believe that all good theology should have a Science Fiction analogue, I have found such an analogue for the Murphyist. If you reach deep into Science Fiction you will find, within the Universe inspired by Larry Niven, a race of beings known as the Puppeteers. They live on a world with no hard edges, no corners, and no surfaces that are not cushioned. They prepare constantly for any danger, mitigate any threat, and seek safety as their primary purpose. Any Puppeteer who seeks adventure is declared criminally insane, and immediately exiled. When they sensed the impending energy-death of the Universe, they moved their entire solar-system to an area of the universe that would last longer than others.
If such a world appeals to you… then you might just be a Murphyist.
Yours in faith,
David
Looking Back to Look Forward
Last week, the Unitarian Universalist Association became only the second national religious body to repudiate the Doctrine of Discovery, the 15th century papal doctrine that declared that when Christian Europeans landed in a place inhabited by non-Christian people, the Europeans could claim to have “discovered” the land, and had the right to possess it and the people on it.
The Doctrine of Discovery became the theological justification for European colonialism, slavery, genocide and many atrocities of history. In 1823, it also, thanks to Chief Justice John Marshall and the US Supreme Court, became the legal justification for the United States’ treatment of the indigenous peoples of our continent. According to this doctrine, the native peoples who were here before the arrival of Europeans in North America have no right to own their traditional lands, to practice their traditional religion on those lands, or to self-determination.
If this were just a horrible chapter of history, however, there would be little need to engage entire denominations in the process of repudiating it. We could read about it in a book and move on. The Doctrine of Discovery, however, is living amongst us today.
The Supreme Court still refers to it, believe it or not, most recently in City of Sherrill v. Oneida Indian Nation (2005), in which the court ruled that the Oneida Nation was not entitled to the sovereignty granted it in treaties with New York State even if they purchased the land seized from them in violation of that treaty on the open real estate market. Writing for the 8-member majority, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg cited the Doctrine of Discovery as legal basis for nullifying the Oneida’s treaty rights.
We tell the truth about our history so that we can do better in the future, and our nation can and must do better.
What can we do?
First, the United States can fully implement the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Adopted in 2007, this declaration asks UN member nations to negotiate, in full faith and with honor and mutuality, right relationship with the indigenous peoples among them. It says something that the United States was one of only 4 nations in the world to vote no. Since then, President Obama has declared his intention to follow the declaration, but his promise has not been acted upon. We can ask him to.
Second, the US can act to restore the rights of indigenous peoples to their lands and their religions. Native Hawai’ian people are prevented from practicing their ancient faith because their sacred sites are “owned” by the Federal government. That can and should be changed.
And finally, we as people can seek right relationship with the indigenous people of this land and with our common mother, the Earth. Do you know whose ancient territory you sit upon as you read this article? If not, find out. Find out where those people are today. Seek healing with honor and openness.
We learn about the past so that we can do better in the future, and the United States was founded on the principle that when we learn a better way we can make it happen. Let’s work together to fulfill the promise of our nation instead of repeating its ugly past.
“The” Indefinite Article
Do you remember the Schoolhouse Rock cartoons and songs from the 1970s? Even my kids watch them today on DVD and reruns. There was a series about math, about politics, and about grammar. My favorites were “Conjunction junction, what’s your function,” “Interjection,” and “I’m just a bill, sitting here on Capitol Hill.” I think they remain one of the most brilliant television-learning tools ever created. But there was a serious gap in Schoolhouse Rock, for which I think America’s youth have suffered for too long. They never created an episode about the most important part of speech. The article. If Schoolhouse Rock had taught us the difference between the definite and indefinite article, English speakers would be a more enlightened crowd.
Okay, I know you are trying to remember what an article is. “The” is a definite article. “A” and “an” are indefinite articles. “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” has a very different meaning than “I am a way, a truth, and a life,” or even “I am way, truth, and life.” Sometimes there is elegance in the indefinite, or even in the absence of an article.
John 14:6 is used often by Christian fundamentalists as irrefutable truth that Jesus and Christianity are the only path to salvation. I agree that the author of John, who most scholars do not believe would have been the disciple himself, had as his primary objective, making Jesus the Christ. Chapter 20 verses 30 and 31 even say, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book, but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and by believing you may have life in his name.”
And so, it is likely that the author meant exactly what he wrote. In the Greek original, the definite article “ho”, which is in the nominative singular feminine form (in case you were wondering), is clearly present. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” However, there is no other way to say this in Greek. The indefinite article is seldom used and specifically means “one.” No clarification needed here.
Of course, we have no way of knowing whether or not Jesus actually said these words, especially to that specificity. The best guess of modern day biblical scholars is that he did not. The Jesus Seminar, which is a group of scholars who systematically analyze the Christian scriptures toward the goal of determining the authenticity of Jesus’ words, have come to the conclusion that almost none of the words attributed to Jesus in John, were actually uttered. John is a persuasive story toward a specific goal.
For arguments sake, let’s say that Jesus did say something about being way, truth, and life. Jesus may have understood and spoken the Greek that John was written in, the common language of the occupied land. However, his native tongue was almost certainly Aramaic, which is a Semitic language closer to Hebrew, and very different from Greek. There is also the 50-80 year gap of oral tradition between Jesus’ death and the time that John was likely written. But even if Jesus spoke the words, definite articles in Aramaic are even more troublesome. The definite article doesn’t really exist in Aramaic, but is embedded and expressed in the noun itself, which has three forms. A definite article is expressed via the emphatic form of the noun, but is not really so definite as in English. If that isn’t enough, ancient Aramaic and modern Aramaic (like English and most living languages) are different. Noun forms have changed over time. For example, emphatic (definite) nouns are more used in modern Aramaic than they were in biblical Aramaic. Regardless of what, if anything was said, it seems impossible to know definitively how definite Jesus was being here.
It is also interesting to look at languages that have no articles at all, like Latin and Russian. In Russian (which I speak) this passage reads, “Ya yest’ put, i istina, i zhizn’.” Literally “I am way, and truth, and life.” Another interesting aspect of this is that, in Russian, the noun “to be” is usually not voiced in the present tense. If you and I were speaking to each other, I would simply say, “Ya put, i istina, i zhizn”…or “I way, and truth, and life.” The verb form “yest'” (I am) is likely included in the Russian Bible because it is also emphasized in the various Hebrew forms of the Hebrew Scriptures, and expresses more of an existential quality. One might say, “I exist as way, and truth, and life,” but even that wouldn’t be exactly correct.
The point is that, without any articles at all, languages like Russian are actually more robust because meaning cannot be so clearly defined, or misinterpreted, with a single qualifier. Meaning must be derived in other ways like nuance, word order, emphasis, and more in-depth conversation. The meaning of “Ya yest’ put, i istina, i zhizn’,” requires more information to be fully understood.
Liberal expressions of faith are more like the indefinite article. We are not the way, the truth, and the life. We are more of a way, a truth and a life. But even the singular indefinite article is limiting. Liberal faith can also be lived as faith with no articles at all. And in that absence, I find even more strength. The Bible loses so much of its power if we limit it to a singular and definite meaning. When we say that there is only “the way, and the truth, and the life,” we seal revelation, and there is nothing new to learn. When there is nothing new to learn, put me in my grave. I’m done.
The Unitarian Universalist principles, for example, don’t say that we are have the truth or even a truth. They say, “free and responsible search for truth and meaning—no articles—just truth and meaning. How we define truth and meaning then requires more discussion and explanation and interpretation and even debate. Unitarian Universalism requires nuance, emphasis and more in-depth conversation. I actually believe all religions require this, because I don’t believe any sacred text can be taken at literal face value. Doing so might make it easier on our brains, but would sell the authors short. And Jesus said,
Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.
To be a person of faith who does not take the path of the definite article, one must have some comfort with ambiguity. One must be willing to work out truth and meaning with nuance, emphasis, and more in-depth conversation. Grammar matters.
Reason and Passion in Public Discourse
The Supreme Court decision earlier this week regarding the Affordable Health Care Act is yet another reminder that we can anticipate an election season fraught with intense partisanship. The free exchange of ideas, even radically disparate ones, is essential to a healthy democracy. Yet we also know that discourse in this country is not infrequently more an effort to entertain and titillate than to actually examine complex social and political issues.
It’s fascinating (and occasionally rather unsettling) to observe the intense emotions that characterize some of the rhetoric in the American public square. It can be equally intriguing (and perhaps even more disturbing) to recognize those kinds of intensities within oneself. As a minister of a congregation in Maryland, an issue that I and many of my fellow Unitarian Universalists are keenly focused on is the future of marriage equality in this state. I recently attended an interfaith training that was supported by Marylanders for Marriage Equality, the Lutheran organization ReconcilingWorks, and the Human Rights Campaign in which we were challenged by our very fine presenter, ReconcilngWorks Executive Director Emily Eastwood, to confront opponents of marriage equality not with debate and rational arguments, but by seeking to connect, understand and care — while still advocating for LGBT rights. This is no easy task for a guy like me who has made some very rational, downright academic arguments for marriage equality publicly on more than one occasion. I sometimes wonder if it is as common fallacy among religious liberals that if we could just explain “the facts” to a benighted world, people will come to “the truth” (which usually means that they will agree with us). Referring to marriage equality, Ms. Eastwood pointed out, “This is not a head issue, it’s a heart issue.” People don’t oppose same-sex civil marriage because they have carefully analyzed empirical data and peer-reviewed, double-blind studies about it. They oppose it because something in their innards clenches when the subject comes up. And if I’m honest, I’ll admit that my own intestines squirm when I listen to people grouse about “defending” marriage (and my wife feels the same way).
James Luther Adams, one of the most influential Unitarian theologians of the twentieth century, remarked that “Where our heart is, there our reason will be.” It very often happens that we are not dispassionate and objective even when we think we are. We are both thinking and feeling beings at all times, and we function this way in the most intimate aspects of life as well as in public discourse on matters of import to our communities, our nation and the whole of creation. We are also spiritual beings. The Golden Rule is not, “Thou shalt pedagogically seek to change thy neighbor’s opinion to be more like thyself.” What does it mean for us to put our self-righteousness aside and seek to truly understand a different point of view — even one we will never, ever agree with? To seek honest connection with another human being under such circumstances is the work of a very mature, enlightened being.
A Direction of the Heart
The poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, “Religion is something infinitely simple, ingenious. It is not knowledge, not content of feeling … it is not duty and not renunciation, it is not restriction: but in the infinite extent of the universe it is a direction of the heart.”
While I cannot agree wholeheartedly with this great existentialist poet about what religion is not, I share his sense that, whatever else it may be, religion is a direction of the heart. I mean this in a two-fold sense: any religion worth embracing will, in and of itself, contain an element of emotion which is both inspiring and satisfying. At the same time, any religion worth embracing will be sufficiently reasonable and encourage sufficient spiritual discipline so that it will serve to channel our feelings in positive ways—that is, it will offer direction to our emotions, tempering them when they are out of control and provoking them when they are sublimated in unnecessary or unhealthy ways.
Much of the history of liberal religion, in general—and Unitarian Universalism, in particular—has been devoted to crafting an approach to religion that is more rational, more reasonable, more intellectually coherent, and more congruent with empirical evidence than more traditional belief systems. I celebrate our cultivation of reasonable religion. But the life decisions we make—great or small—rarely lend themselves to purely rational processes. The value judgments we all make on a daily basis—about what we eat, who we love, what we enjoy, what work we undertake—may all lend themselves to attempts at rational explanation by social scientists but arriving at those personal judgments is anything but a purely rational exercise.
What separates the sanctuary from the laboratory, the church from the academy, the congregation from the learned society, is the richness of human feeling that goes into shaping and expressing the values we affirm and promote. And so we strive to find the balance between head and heart, to create a worldview that meets our deepest emotional needs without acquiescing to the ridiculous. A faith which represents a direction of the heart need not be grounded in simplistic sentimentalism or frivolous feeling – although sentiment and feeling will be found within it – perhaps even simplicity and a certain measure of frivolity, but it will esteem love and compassion, kindness and responsibility.
Waldemar Argow warned that, “Religion without emotion is a stunted, ineffectual thing. Religion that is all emotion is a childish and even dangerous force quite incapable of solving the problems we have to deal with. The ideal in religion is to establish the proper balance between mind and emotion, the thinking mind showing us the way we ought to go and the loving heart leading us to walk in that way.”
The New Face of Courage
Courage comes in many forms and it wears many faces. We often think of those who put themselves in harms’ way for the sake of others as being courageous. The firefighter who rushes into a burning building. The soldier who risks life and limb to save a buddy who’s been wounded. The mother who shields her baby from imminent danger.
This past week, I saw another face of courage. It was worn by a young woman who lives in Arizona, whose mother brought her across the border when she was an infant. All her life she lived in fear. In fear of the knock on the door in the middle of the night. In fear of the police who patrol her neighborhood. In fear that when she came home from school her mother would be gone, taken to a detention center to be deported.
This young woman, now in her twenties, has declared her freedom from fear and has become an advocate for the rights of undocumented people just like herself. She has attended and spoken out at immigrant rights’ rallies. She has “bucked the system” and achieved both a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree from Arizona State. She has started a “language exchange” in Phoenix, where undocumented youth from her community can come and teach Spanish, thereby earning a little cash to support themselves while they also learn to speak English from their students. (See the video here: Spanish for Social Justice ) She is, in all aspects of her life, proclaiming her heritage, her identity and her status in the face of frightening, brutal and repressive forces. And she’s doing it with joy and love. The face of courage that I encountered last week wears a big smile, and it is beautiful.
After hearing this woman’s story, I’m called to ask myself where courage comes from. Not the “run into a burning building” courage (which, while certainly admirable, often is more a reaction to circumstance), but the kind that says “I’m in this for the long haul, no matter what.” The kind of courage that enables and empowers us to get out of bed, day after day, to face a world full of risk and danger. I have to believe that this kind of courage is grounded in love. In the love that we receive from others and in the love we have for the world.
We need a community of love around us to provide the foundation for all that we do. Knowing that we are loved, no matter what, by our family and our friends gives us the courage to venture out into a hostile world. It also forms the basis of our self-esteem, the basis of our belief that our lives matter and that we can make a difference. This kind of love empowers us to declare our own worth in the face of those who would deny it.
A love of the world calls us to engage with it, in all its beauty and all its horror. When we love the world, like a parent with a troublesome child, we acknowledge its imperfections, yet we cast our gaze to the horizon of its potential. Love for the world allows us, in the words of Bobby Kennedy, “to dream things that never were, and say, why not?” And it creates in us the commitment to do what we can to make those dreams a reality.
As I move through the days ahead, I will carry the image of this young woman with me. She is, for me, the new face of courage.
Peace,
Peter
