More than Bricks

A sermon delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation (Blacksburg, VA), March 9, 2008, by the Reverend Christine Brownlie.

Four-year-old Bethany had left her treasured doll in her Sunday school classroom, and her parents had called me to ask if I’d meet them at the church building so they could retrieve it. When they entered the quiet building, Bethany was obviously troubled. “Where are all the people?” she asked.

Her parents and I were startled by her question and her distress, but we quickly realized that in this little girl’s imagination the building that she called “church” was always filled with the familiar faces and sounds of the congregation that gathered on Sunday. Without the presence of other human beings, the building was nothing more than an empty shell, not the lively happy place that she knew. We explained to her that just like her own family, everyone went home after the service. But this didn’t satisfy her. She insisted on walking through the building, calling “Peoples! Peoples!” The words rang through the room, the child’s distress and surprise magnified by the empty space.

After checking nearly every room, she was convinced that no one else was in the building, but she wasn’t consoled and tearfully demanded to be taken to the family car. Whatever this place might be, it wasn’t what she’d expected and she was most unhappy.

I understand. A building might be called a church or a synagogue or a mosque, but we’d all agree that the empty building is not what we envision when someone says that they’re going to “church.” You’ve heard me say many times that when I look at the building expansion that’s growing and evolving week by week before our eyes, I see people in that space. I’ve even begun to have dreams about the Sunday services and the people who will be sitting in the 200+ chairs that will fill the meeting hall. It’s reassuring to me, that in my dreams the room is always full. I take this as a good omen for our future, but I’m very aware that a room full of people — even nice friendly people — doesn’t constitute a “church” or, to use our preferred terminology, a “congregation.”

Those of you who heard Dr. Carter Turner speak last Sunday might recall his premise that for many Americans, watching a beloved team play a game can be a “religious experience” that he described as a feeling of deep connection to fellow fans and to the team as an object of admiration and love. Some of you might recognize, as I did, that it’s not just sports teams that arouse this kind of emotional state. I’d suggest that people have the same type of experience at a music concert or the opera, at a political rally, or even a slap-down wresting event at the Salem Civic Center. Our emotions and, in some cases, our intellect are engaged, and we are caught up in something that feels very powerful. We somehow belong to the group, even though we don’t know the individuals around us. For the duration of the gathering, we are bound together as people who share the same hopes and fears and even a sense of adoration for a special performer or sports star.

But I would maintain that despite these similarities, a group of people who have gathered to watch a game or a performance is a very different sort of group than a congregation. What we create here each Sunday has a far greater meaning and value for our lives and our community. The purpose of a congregation is much deeper and broader than cheering the Hokies to victory or experiencing the sense of triumph when our favorite tenor nails that high note in a difficult aria.

Most of us don’t come here looking the kind of “feel good” connections that stir us up for a couple of hours and then evaporate. We’re more likely to be looking for connections with people who want to know us for who we are and for who we are becoming. Some of us have these connections with family and friends — and maybe even co-workers. We’re here because we know how wonderful it is to share that kind of loving acceptance within a group. For many of us, this need to have a place where we can be our truest, best and most authentic self is rare. Some of us are worn out with pretending and politely nodding and biting our tongue for fear that our family or co-workers or the person sitting next to us on Sunday will be shocked and offended by what we really think. Finding a safe and loving haven is a tremendous gift. A few years ago, we celebrated Valentine’s Day by creating heart-shaped love-notes to the Congregation, telling the group what it was that we loved about our relationship with this Congregation. Many people said that it was the freedom to be who they were and to feel accepted by others that they treasured the most.

It’s also what will keep folks coming back as they continue to grow and change. I would propose that the reality and inevitability of change and the transformation of our lives is a powerful reason to be connected to a religious community. Life will deal every one of us hard blows that will change us forever. I believe we can face these painful events with greater courage because here we have found caring people who will stand with us in the tough times and support us when we find it difficult to face the future.

I’m sure that many of you who were part of this congregation last April found solace and strength through the many opportunities you had to gather, to grieve together, and to comfort each other. Our team of “friendly visitors” made it a priority to be in touch with people who might be feeling isolated or overwhelmed. I’ve heard again and again from many people what it meant to have this Congregation to lean on during those sad days. If there was a lesson that came out of that time, it was that we could give up the illusion of “I can take care of myself” and move to a better model of “We can take care of each other — and we will.”

Tough times and joyful times fill us with emotions and questions and maybe even with a sense of connection with something much larger than ourselves. Our small individual self-focus is challenged as we recognize that our sorrow and our happiness are experiences that are common to all people everywhere. We look beyond our individual lives and into the lives of those around us, and we know that we are not isolated beings. This is one of the reasons that we value our time of joys and concerns.

This is also one of the reasons that congregations take on the work called “social action” in the larger community. Through this work we can have the rare and wonderful opportunity of making our dreams of a just and fair world come true. We can also have the rare and transforming opportunity of seeing a glimpse of the world through a very different set of eyes, with perhaps a very different lens, or paradigm, that awakens us to our own assumptions and prejudices.

This leads us to something else that a congregation offers, and something you’re not so likely to find with your football buddies or fellow movie goers, and that’s a place of safety where we can face up to the attitudes, fears, prejudices, and other troublesome aspects of our own personalities that we may want to change.

I know that the sermons, the discussion groups, and the other opportunities that we’ve had within our congregation (such as the anti-racism workshops and the Welcoming Congregation groups) have brought some of us to a point of being able to look at our attitudes and work through some of our stuff. But I think we could be more helpful and honest about our human failings and our need to heal. As Unitarian Universalists, we don’t have a ritual or even a language for confession, repentance, or forgiveness. We don’t like the traditional words: sin, guilt, shame, or “Lord have mercy.” I know that these words and others have hurt some of us in deep places.

But I wonder if our avoidance of these issues is really good for us. So often, it’s easy to be deceived about how our life measures up to the lives of our fellow Sunday Service attendees. Looking around us during coffee hour and seeing all the smiling faces, we imagine that everyone else has it all together. We know that we’re not at all like that. Before long we begin to imagine that we alone are troubled, disappointed, frustrated, lonely, or struggling.

Dear friends, it ain’t so! I promise you. We all need to find a way to recognize our failings and admit them. We need to feel forgiven and supported when we have hurt someone and we’re sorry. We all need to know that we’re still loved, still accepted. I’ve seen this happen over and over again within this congregation. There have been many times when I have been the needy recipient of loving and gracious forgiveness offered by someone I’ve wounded. It’s a rare and precious experience that is not all that common in our everyday too-busy lives.

There is, of course, something else that goes on here that makes us more than a group of people gathered for a lecture, and that is what we are engaged in right now. We worship together. Here again, we have a word that some of us find tricky. So allow me a moment to share my meaning with you. For me, the word worship means the lifting up of those ideals, values, and aspirations that speak to us of the ultimate goodness and deepest meanings that human life and experience and wisdom offers to us.

I believe that when we are engaged in worship, we partake of a quest for what is often called “the holy,” and I would claim that it is this quest that binds us together as a “religious community.” We engage in this quest together, despite our differences of belief or even our non-belief. I very much like the way that the Rev. Tom Owens-Towle describes how this quality of holiness is manifested in our Unitarian Universalist congregations, and I’ve added my own thought to his descriptions of how we engage with the holy. You may have experienced some of these holy moments as you have been involved in a Sunday Service. If not, I’d encourage you to be open to the possibility that you may yet come to such a moment of recognition. Rev. Owen-Towle says that:

Our worship invites us to be still and know that our lives have come into being through and are sustained by a loving Spirit beyond our control, beyond even our comprehension.

Our worship invites to participate in song and appreciation of music as a spiritual expression rather than solely as a performance.

Our worship invites to weave connections to one another through words and physical contact. Through these connections we acknowledge that we walk with others on our odyssey through life and that we are companions to other travelers.

Within our worship community, we are offered comfort when our own hearts are heavy with sorrow, and we are called to be alert when our spirits slumber in indifference or weariness. We too, offer comfort to others who grieve, and rejoice with them acknowledging that life is good and beautiful.

Our worship invites to address the pressing needs of the larger world, recognizing that we are not isolated beings but connected to one another and to every other person in mystery and miracle.

We have gathered here this morning because we have discovered that the quest of the holy is something that we cannot do alone. The vocation of being a free-lance theologian may be fulfilling for a while, but eventually most of us need the company of others who are engaged in this same work of meaning-making. We need others who are willing to point out our blind spots and too-narrow understandings. We require companions who will share their beliefs and deepest convictions, and who will encourage us to continue — even when the cost of following what is true feels too high for us.

Our way of the spirit is not for the faint of heart. We may not claim to be “born again,” but maybe we are born again and again and again and again. We are not just a body of believers, we are also a body of “becomers” as we revisit and renew our convictions about life, the universe, and the meaning of it all again and again; sharing with one another, questioning, challenging, and encouraging as we continue on. As one minister commented, we Unitarian Universalists draw our conclusions in pencil, not indelible ink.

It takes more than bricks to create a congregation. Of course we need a place to gather every week. Having our own home that is a place of memory, hope, and aspiration surely makes our time together more meaningful. To have the gift of a beautiful home that is welcoming, comfortable, and unique is an incredible gift.

Today we are officially launching our annual Stewardship campaign. To me, this is a holy time that we share together every year. I see it as a time to look at my spending habits and how I use my money as a tool to express my ideals and values and deepest convictions. I think about the power of this tool to help create the kind of world that I want to live in, the kind of community that might speak of love and justice and peace to everyone who came to know it.

What you decide to give will depend on your circumstances along with the demands and priorities of your life. If you can, I invite you to stretch a little bit. But whatever you decide, I trust that you will find that your contribution of money and/or time to this congregation will strengthen your experience, your commitment, and your sense of belonging.

May it be so!