So What's a Nice Humanist, Buddhist,
Christian, Pagan, Hindu, Moslem
Doing in a Place Like This?

A sermon delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the New River Valley, July 27, 2003, by the Reverend Christine Brownlie.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the great privilege of serving as a staff member for the Dwight Brown Leadership Experience, sponsored by the Southwest District. My role was to talk about worship and to encourage the participants to think about what made worship work for them. As we talked about the various congregations and the personal spiritual leanings that were represented by the men and women who were giving a week of their lives to this experience, it became clear to me that our diversity in terms of personal theology is expanding and becoming more important in the life of our congregations.

For some, especially those in larger congregations, this diversity offered richness and opportunities for exploration. But in some of the smaller congregations, conflicts were flaring up as people with “New Age” ideas or a more traditional set of beliefs came into a fairly homogeneous groups. “I just don’t understand why these Christians and Pagans want to be UUs,” someone confided. “Why can’t they find a group that agrees with their spirituality and leave us to ours?” This person wasn’t a religious bigot or basher. There was no meanness in their tone of voice. They were sincerely puzzled.

I’ll be honest: The life and work of a UU minister would be less complex if we were back in the good old days when we could expect that a majority of the members of our congregation were liberal, non-trinitarian Christians, or Humanists. But I recognize that our commitment to individual spiritual growth and our reverence for the many spiritual traditions of the world lead some of us to claim a particular tradition — or several traditions — as important and influential in our own lives. One woman in our group identified herself as an eco-feminist-Humanist-Christian-Pagan. This seems self-contradictory to me, but it works for her.

Some of us turn back to the faith we were raised in, but with a new understanding that allows us to create a more nuanced and deeply layered faith. As Paul of Tarsus wrote in his letter to the Church in Corinth, we put away our childish literalist faith, and now we see more clearly what our own heritage (as Christians or Jews or Muslims or ...) may have to offer us. For others of us, our paths have taken us to places that are new to us, though the traditions themselves may be very old. The ancient religions of the goddess and god of the natural world, the venerable teachings of the Tao, Hinduism, and Buddhism speak to our hearts and souls in a way that our cradle faith never did. We have found a place of rest and refreshment and we want to claim it. And I would not forget those stalwart Humanists who have proclaimed the value of reason, science, and the value of this world — this life, rather than the promises of a “better place” after death. They too claim their spiritual identity with pride.

But even if we have come to a place in our lives where the teachings and practices of one of the world’s religions is meaningful to us, we still make the choice to be Unitarian Universalists with all of the messiness and frustration that comes with being a member of a very diverse religious movement that has no creed or sacrament or saints or practices that binds us together as a religious movement. So the question I want to reflect on this morning is why stay? Why do UU Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Humanists, Pagans, and all the other folks who add the name of another tradition to their spiritual ID put up with feeling marginalized and disrespected, (it seems that everyone in our religious association is feeling marginalized and disrespected these days) and decide to be UUs first and foremost? What does Unitarian Universalism offer that can’t be found in more traditional congregations? Let’s start with our general approach to that human creation called religion.

If I were asked to give a summary of that tradition of free faith, I would say first that we refute the notion that there is one right answer to the big questions that religions try to answer. No one religion has all of the truth. No one savior, no one book is sufficient for all people. When people who are new to our way of the spirit hear these radical ideas, it can be very confusing. I remember sitting with my sisters and their husbands in a restaurant on the eve of my ordination, trying to explain to them what my chosen faith was all about. They all fell silent for a moment and looked bewildered. I thought maybe that second round of Texas-sized Margaritas had hit. But no, they were grappling with a way of thinking about church and religion that was completely foreign to them. Finally one of my sisters said, “Chris, It sounds to me like this is either the church of everything or else the church of nothing.”

I could see us as the church of everything which reminds me of the dreadful idea that we’re the church where you can believe anything you want. But the church of nothing? Was this what I was about to commit my life to? It was a very disturbing idea, one that I set aside for the moment, but couldn’t forget.

Sometime later, I came across an essay by my colleague, the Rev. Sarah Voss, in which she proclaimed the theology of mathematics. Now this seemed like an oxymoron to me, probably because I’ve always found thinking about numbers difficult. But I plunged ahead. In her essay, Voss talks about zero, or nothing, being the “parent of something, anything, and everything.” As I thought about this paradox, it began to make sense. Zero, or nothingness, means that there is a space for something to take seed and grow.

It seems to me that a big part of being a Unitarian Universalist is making and discovering empty places in our own spiritual garden so that something new might take root. If I decide that I no longer believe in something that I was taught as a child because it no longer fits with my adult understanding of how the world works — for example the idea that the world was created in six days —, this makes room for new ideas: the Big Bang and evolution. If I no longer believe in a God who spoke the universe into being, I can see that empty space a fertile soil for a new understanding of the source of creation and all life, or I might come to the conclusion that everything simply is, and that a divine creator is unnecessary and turn from my Christian roots to Buddhism or Humanism.

Those of you who have gone through this process of weeding your spiritual garden can attest that sometimes this process is painful. If you were brought up as I was, to believe that God is Love, then you’ve probably had some hard reckoning to do when terrible and undeserved things happened to you. Death, illness, emotional suffering, disappointments that seems so unfair, and shocking tragedies are simply a part of life and they come to all of us. Stunned, shattered, we look at the wreckage before us and ask how could a God of Love allow this to happen? For some believers, this question moves them to give up all ideas of God and to turn to atheism. Maybe God isn’t a loving father who cares about me and my family. And if God isn’t a God of Love, then I can’t believe in God any more. Others come to a more complex understanding of God and Love, and find a resting place in a theology that allows for mystery and ambiguity.

In both instances, this change in personal belief doesn’t come about because these individuals looked around and thought to themselves, “I want to get rid of this deeply held belief that has meant so much to me in my life.” It’s not like changing the bathroom wallpaper or deciding to bake a different pie for Thanksgiving this year. When I talk with people who have made a serious and thoughtful change in their core beliefs, they tell me it was because they could now do nothing else. They were compelled by experience, reason, and a new understanding of truth to let go of something that they now believed to be false, and to search for a new understanding that seems more reasonable and harmonious with their own lives. I’d add that this change didn’t necessarily make them feel better about themselves or life itself. But they had not other option that offered a sense of spiritual integrity.

As members of a UU congregation, we are part of a community that is dedicated to the free and responsible search for truth. That might be a worn-out phrase, but it is something that sets us apart from other religious traditions. We’re not given a starting place like an approved statement of belief that must be integrated and accepted as a first step on our faith journey. We’re encouraged to begin the quest for truth and meaning from where we are, in the company of others seekers who are eager to grow and to renew their understanding of the world and themselves.

I would guess that every congregation of every other faith sees itself as a community of believers who are seeking union with one another and with the center of their faith. Their motto might be taken from the prophet Amos who asks,

“Can two walk together except that they be agreed?”

Unlike other religions, we’re not trying to maintain a certain order or system of beliefs that can be traced back to ancient roots. We’re not a church that wants to “stamp our minds upon the young” or reign in the doubts and personal quests of those who have “lost their faith” as the unexpected storms of life ravage their tidy collection of beliefs and rituals. In the words of John Alexie Crane,

“Each of our congregations is a community of people who provide stimulation, support and love for each other as, together they seek ever growing understanding of their existence.”

That doesn’t sound like “nothing” to me. Far from it! Our way of the spirit offers a rich, diverse, and exciting opportunity for personal growth, intellectual and spiritual stimulation, and freedom. Within the fold of our unique community, we have the chance to expand our personal worldview so that differences in religious beliefs aren’t seen as thorny problems that have to settle for once and for all — and the heretic be damned. Within this community, we come to know the truth of the words of Francis David, a courageous Unitarian saint who proclaimed that we do not have to think alike to love alike.

We love our personal freedom and we protect it with fierce pride. We also know that community is necessary for a vibrant and authentic religion. When we gather in community on Sunday, we come with the expectation that we will make connections with one another. We want to see familiar faces, share our news, and hear about what’s been going on with other people. We anticipate the joy of sitting with others who care about us, who are glad to see us when we are here and who miss us when we are absent. We long to share times of beauty, discovery and the stirring of deep emotions with people who have our trust. We also want to meet the stranger who has been looking for a place to put down roots, and absorb the warmth that comes with acceptance and sincere welcome.

It’s not important or even desirable for all to us to think and feel the same about the music or the hymns or the sermon. In fact, I think we’d be disappointed if we did — differences of opinion make for a much more interesting time of reflection and conversation at the end of the service. What we do agree on is that our worship services are a time for each of us to recall our deepest longings, values, and commitments, and to renew our intentions to live in the light of out best selves in the coming week. Rather than bowing down in supplication before an all-powerful deity, we lift up the experiences and hopes of our own lives and share them with one another. Rather than listening passively to a sermon that interprets for us the scriptures and rituals that are the basis of authority in other religions, we listen to the readings and the sermon with a critical mind and with the freedom to agree or disagree as our own reason and experience leads us. And (this is important) we also expect that our beliefs and our worldview may be challenged by what we hear from either the minister or from those sitting around us. We know and expect that some Sundays the various parts of the service will speak to our needs and beliefs, and that at other times we won’t respond because our personal way of the spirit, isn’t affirmed all the time. But it is never disrespected or treated as insignificant.

For some of us, the greatest benefit we receive from our community and our messy and inclusive theology is the opportunity to share a multitude of images, symbols, experiences, and ideas about our human struggles, the experience of the holy, and the sources of truth. I believe that the power and richness of this sharing is something that we can’t experience as solitary individuals, and that our hunger and thirst for knowledge and experience beyond our own, is a fundamental human need to grow and renew ourselves. When we have the courage to interact authentically with each other, naming what is valuable to us and responding thoughtfully to the differences among us, then we enter into a process that Henry Wieman calls “creative interchange.” He tells us that this form of human interchange is transforming and enlivening. It brings us to new heights of connection and experience. For Wieman, this form of interchange is sacred and supremely important to individuals, since it helps us to realize our own possibilities for a more fulfilling and creative life. This may not be something that we experience every Sunday, but the potential is always here — dependent only on each one of us and our willingness to engage deeply with one another.

We gather here each Sunday, not in spite of our differences, but because of them. We know that as human beings, we have so much in common that binds us together. But commonality is not all that we, with our restless minds and vagabond hearts are looking for. We come looking for new ideas, new interpretations of old traditions. We ask to be surprised, moved, and sometimes even pushed into new paths that offer us a different view of life that gives us a new perspective on the landscape of our lives. We come not only to be affirmed, but also to be transformed by the experience of sharing ideas and emotions. In that sharing, something new and unexpected emerges. We come to this place as Jews and Christians, Humanists and Pagans, Hindus, Buddhists and followers of Islam. But first and foremost, we come as Unitarian Universalists, looking for the empty places in our own spiritual gardens where something new might take root, ready to pull out the beliefs and ideas that no longer bear fruit. We come to this community willing to listen to new ideas and the wisdom that comes from reflecting on experiences both sweet and bitter. We smile, glad to see one another, again, ready to meet the stranger, offering ourselves to one another as fellow seekers. We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

May it be so

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