What do we want? The Ultimate and the Intimate

A sermon delivered at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation (Blacksburg, VA), May 18, 2008, by the Reverend Christine Brownlie.

A few months ago, a member of our congregation gave me a copy of New Science magazine. He thought that I would be interested in one of the articles, “What Good Is ‘God’?”. There was a short blurb on the cover that asked the burning central question: “If morality is hard wired in the brain, what’s the point of religion?”.

The article cites a number of studies that suggest a variety of reasons for what seems to be our human need for religion: reinforcing moral behavior, giving permission for violence against outsiders, a means of social control and group bonding, or a way of experiencing a sense of elevation about our own lives through serving a “higher purpose” than our own self-interests. Every now and then, we read the results of a study that seems to tell us that people who are “religious” and who are involved in some kind of religious organization seem to be happier and healthier. But I’m not persuaded that this is really why we human beings are “wired” for religion. I think there’s something much more profound going on.

I believe that we are wired for religion because we are also wired for “Why?”. As a species, we are driven to discover workings and reasons for everything that we experience, from the Earth under our feet to the stars we see in the sky. We want to understand the workings of our bodies and our psyches, as well as the bodies and psyches of others. We want to understand how to make the forces of nature work for us so that we can use them to make our lives more comfortable, easier, longer, more certain — and more enjoyable.

There’s another set of questions that are just as engaging, but which lead us down a very different path. These questions can’t be answered by observing the natural world or through the trial-and-error method of science. We want to know why we are here. Why is there something instead of nothing? We want to know if there is a reason for suffering and evil, and how to increase the possibility for good — whatever that may be. Finally, given that we are finite beings, what is it that we can believe in that allows us to live with a sense of meaning and purpose in the face of loss and death? If our days are numbered, is there anything of value that we can devote them to? Is there anything in what we do that will continue beyond our brief lives and be of value?

These are philosophical/theological concerns that have haunted human beings from time before time. We find them in the ancient writings of philosophers and poets. James Luther Adams, a Unitarian ethicist and theologian, says that this concern for meaning and purpose is an inescapable and universal concern for humankind. It is also THE essential concern of true religion.

We might call this concern for meaning the basis for the quest for the ultimate value of life. What is that unique and compelling something that you or I could devote our lives to with the belief that this “good” is worthy of our most profound love and confidence? This something is of such profound importance that once we find it, we will defend it says Adams, “to the very last ditch.” He calls this object of trust and devotion our “god” with a small “g.”

This is a word that for a UU audience is likely to raise some eyebrows and maybe even some hackles. So let me assure you that Adam’s idea of god is nothing like what you learned about in Sunday School or Hebrew School. It is our personal motivating force, and it is encompassed in a much larger “god” with a capital “G.” Adams understands this overarching “God” as “the reality that works upon us and through us, always seeking righteousness.” He says that we recognize this god because, “When we are in accord with this reality, we are able to discern truth, goodness, and beauty.” We discover this reality at work in nature, in history, and in human thought. Adams sees this reality as the essential ingredient that must be present if human good is to be found in human community.

So where do we find this god that is our personal “ultimacy”? Adams tell us that it is located in anything that brings us to the truth about realities of our own being and experiences, and which gives us a sense of what we want to become — perhaps even what we are destined to become. We find it in science, history, literature, music, the visual arts, as well as in the struggle for justice and the rights of all human beings everywhere. We find this god in relationships that call us to our best selves, connected in love and hope to the best selves of those who share our work and our dreams for the future. We find this god in the commitments that give our lives identity and purpose — and, I would say, hope and joy.

If true religion is the quest for meaning and purpose, and if that meaning and purpose is found in that which gives our lives meaning, reality, and identity, it follows that what we want when we come to this place is a chance to consider what it is that we hold in such high regard — and then to test it. Is our god worthy of our devotion? Is our god a reliable source of purpose and meaning and truth? Or, is our god simply a shadow that beckons to us with promises of ego gratification, false security, short-lived pleasures, and the admiration of others who are equally deluded?

Every religion warns us against the terrible folly of false gods. How many novels, plays, and movies are based on the tragic human tendency to worship at the altar of wealth, pleasure, fame, physical beauty, ego aggrandizement, and the race to see who can collect the most toys before leaving the planet? And I will not leave out the great god of the workplace that seems to have many of us bowing before it as we sacrifice so much of what we claim to value to its demands.

Even if we become convinced that the god we serve is worthy of our devotion, we can’t expect that life will be free from struggles and doubts. It may be just the opposite. How many artists have faithfully given their lives to their art only to die without any recognition of their talent or creativity? How many scientists have spent their careers on a theory only to find that someone has beat them to the publications or that their life’s work has not brought them to the great discovery they hoped for? How many of those who served some human cause, come to the end with a sense of having accomplished very little? I think of those who struggled for human rights and justice but did not live to see the day of victory — if that day ever arrived at all.

What then? Was our god a false god? Was our choice a poor choice? Or is the disappointment based in something other than whatever it is that we took as the ultimate source of meaning, value, and purpose for our lives? It’s so easy to imagine that our devotion is to something grand and glorious, when the truth is that we are simply serving our own longing for recognition or driven by the need to win, to be right, or even to be admired as righteous.

The quest for ultimacy is one part of what we are looking for when we gather in this place. The other side of this coin is intimacy. I believe that we long to have a direct connection to whatever it is that we have found to be ultimate. This longing pulls us into the realm of the mystical, where language becomes as much a burden that limits our experience as it is a tool for the expression of our experiences. But in this moment, language is what we’re stuck with. So I will offer you some reports of these mystical experiences, using the words of a couple of scientists and a beloved poet

The first report comes from physicist Heinz Pagels. He reported a dream that had a powerful and healing connection with his sense of the ultimate:

I often dream of falling. Lately I dreamed that I was clutching at the face of a rock, but it would not hold. Gravel gave way. I grasped for a shrub but it pulled loose, and in cold terror I fell into the abyss. Suddenly, a feeling of pleasure overcame me. I realized that what I embody, the principle of life, cannot be destroyed. . . . As I continued to fall in the dark void, embraced by the vault of heaven, I sang to the beauty of the stars and made my peace with the darkness.

Biologist Ursula Goodenough writes that for her, scientific knowledge leads beyond looking for a point or purpose for creation, and takes her to the “locus of Mystery.” She even develops a sort of trinity to explain her sense of Mystery:

The Mystery of why there is anything at all
The Mystery of where the laws of physics came from
The Mystery of why the universe seems so strange.

She goes on to say that to her Mystery is inherently pointless and inherently shrouded in its own absence of category. She compares her inability to speak of the Mystery that she experiences to, “the clouds passing across the face of the deity in the stained glass images of heaven.” For her the experience of Mystery that arises from her work as a scientist brings a deeper appreciation of what she calls “cosmic and quantum Mystery.” She admits that she may never find the answers to her questions, but this connection to the source of all that is, gives her life meaning and purpose and the desire to delve ever deeper into Mystery,

Let’s hear one more description of the experience of ultimacy and intimacy, this time from the poet Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks and John Moyne:

Water from the Spring
What was in that candle’s light
That opened and consumed me so quickly?
Come back my friend! The form of our love
Is not a created form.
Nothing can help me but that beauty
There was a dawn that I remember
when my soul heard something
from your soul. I drank water
from your spring and felt the current take me.

For myself, I find a revelatory connection with ultimacy through the intimacy of human relationships. This connection is deepest when I hold on to our value that every person contains something of the divine or holy within him or her. Congregations are unique human creations that provide members unique opportunities to do the work of what one UU minister called “growing a soul.” To me, this means the chance to create deep relationships with other people who may not agree with my personal religious beliefs or my political take on the state of the world, yet do agree with the values and aspirations that give my life meaning and purpose. The differences between us, admittedly, can be stoppers — especially if the desire to prove that I’M RIGHT overtakes me. But if I can make space for our differences, and allow our thoughts to mingle and work on each other, then there is a chance that something creative will evolve. What I long for is an accepting and caring relationship that is grounded in respect, appreciation, and a love for that divine seed that bursts through fear and ego, bringing new fruits of our human potential to create ways of being and working together.

I need a sense of ultimacy and intimacy to get me through the day. I need to feel that I’m serving something more than my own physical survival, my ego gratification, my need for human contact, or simply paying the bills. I have found ultimacy in this way of the spirit that we call Unitarian Universalism. I’ve given more that two decades of my life this god with a small “g” and while I have sometimes felt frustrated by the human organizations that purport to support it (the UUA and the congregations I’ve served), I’ve found the values and visions of this faith to be a reliable foundation for my life and worthy of my love. I have found intimacy through my relationships with other UUs over the years as we’ve worked together to strengthen and grow our faith within our own lives and within the larger community. There have been times of frustration and confusion, but even in these experiences I have found moments of love and shared affirmation showing that — despite everything — I was on the right path.

To borrow a phrase from Adams, this is a love that will not let me go. It has a hold on both my intellect and my emotions. It calls me to a level of commitment that is often demanding and, at times, difficult. But I find that it’s worth it.

I’d invite you to consider what is ultimate in your life. How intimate is your relationship with your god? Does it feed your heart and spirit and mind? Does it hold you in a love that will not let you go? These are not easy questions, and it may take a while to find the truthful answers. You may discover that as your commitment to your god grows, so will your love for this beloved community that offers the grounds for our human quest for both ulitmacy and intimacy.

May it be so.