A Faith for Tough Times

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

“How is it, we ask, that a world which just a little while ago was confident and happy has suddenly turned grim and hideous?”

These words come from Unitarian minister, the Rev. A Powell Davies, who served two prominent Unitarian Congregations from 1933 until 1957 when he died at the age of 55. Davies had seen his congregations through tough and frightening times: the Great Depression, World War II and the use of atomic weapons, race riots, and the beginning of the Cold War. He described himself as an “unrepentant liberal,” and he offered his congregations a faith that stood up to tough times. The line I’ve quoted to you comes from a sermon entitled “Joy and Sorrow.” It’s clearly meant for a time like ours, a time when so much of what we counted on has been shaken to the very foundations. The glory days of human progress seem to have morphed into a nightmare of unintended consequences that threaten to change our planet and life as we know it. The way out, for we know there is no way back, is uncertain at best. In Davies’ words,

“Our world has changed. Human experience has changed. What was born for the eternal youth of joy has suddenly grown old in sorrow.”

I came across these words a few days ago, and I was struck by how apt they seemed for our time. Like Davies’ readers, many of us can recall a time when the threats and fears that we live with today were, at best, distant clouds on the horizon. Environmental issues were a concern, but we weren’t yet watching the Arctic ice cap shrink month by month. There was conflict in the Middle East, but no one lived in fear of an attack by “Islamic Fundamentalists” on American soil. The stock market seemed like a smart place to put those retirement or college savings, and the rising values of our homes gave us an extra sense of security. Life seemed pretty rosy, and the future was looking good.

The past eight years have been a very different time, and today many of us wonder what calamity the next week might bring. Our sense of security has been badly shaken at every level of our lives, from the individual to the global. I find myself gripped by feelings of anger, betrayal, and anxiety that are hard to put aside. So much feels out of control. Please don’t think for a moment that I’m implying blame on any one person or political party. The issues are far too complex for such simplistic thinking. Is there anything to rely on? Anything to offer comfort and hope when the future seems so uncertain? The human response has been and still is a simple four-letter word: “Faith.”

And what might that mean! This little word is loaded up with meanings and experiences that we Unitarian Univeralists reject! So let me offer you some thoughts about faith that might help to reframe this word so that it has meaning for you.

I’ll begin with some ideas offered by Catholic theologian Richard P. McBrian in an essay published in Commonweal in 1974. He writes that faith is a way of perceiving reality. Faith is a precognitive stance that comes before thinking, analysis, or concrete ideas. It is the fundamental attitude of the heart that is the basis for our understanding of life, the nature of the world, other people, and the mystery of all that is. We infer our faith from our experiences of relationships and our own lives. For this Catholic scholar, faith is fundamentally personal

The Unitarian theologian James Luther Adams offers a similar view. He tells us that as human beings, we are “fated to be free” and “fated to choose our faith.” Faith is the ground that gives our lives meaning and direction. We can place our faith in something good or something evil, something lasting or something trivial and insecure. But “we have no choice but to be free in the choice of our faith.” He also warns us that “an unexamined faith is not worth having.”

UU minister the Rev. Mark De Wolfe offers his own understanding of faith when he writes that

“. . . faith is as simple as the decision to get of bed in the morning. It is a positive response to existence, which underlies our thinking and our doing. It is saying “yes” to life at the very core of our beings.”

I’ve been thinking in the past few days on the words of my friend and colleague the Rev. Craig Roshaven who serves the Unitarian Universalist congregation in Fort Worth Texas. Craig says that the proof of a true and sturdy faith is that it sees us through the tough times of life: great loss, unexpected and difficult change, grave uncertainties that threaten our hopes and dreams.

What wondrous faith is this that keeps us going in the tough times? I suspect that each of us would have a unique answer to that question. This morning, I’d like to share some of my faith with you in the understanding that your faith may be very different from mine. This is what diversity looks like! But I’d be willing to bet that as you listen to what I have to offer, you’ll find a few “faith statements” that resonate with you. If so, feel free to give me an “amen!”— it can get a little lonely up here!

My first faith statement is that the world we live in is a place of goodness and beauty; a place where miracles abound! What are these miracles? I stand with all those poets, sages, and scientists who look with awe and wonder at the universe, our planet, and the variety of forms that express the life force on our planet in such an amazing array. To feel deeply the mystery that surrounds us everywhere at every moment is to know that our lives are touched by the miraculous, the holy. As Emerson wrote,

“The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.”

This sense of the miraculous does not require a belief in a supernatural creative force, although for some of us it may include that concept. Even someone schooled in the hard sciences can detect miracles in everyday life. Biologist Ursula Goodenough proclaims that emergence, while explainable by chemistry, is nonetheless miraculous in her eyes and offers joy in the countless miracles that surround us through this on-going process.

Even death has a place in the miraculous. Rev. Mark DeWolf reminds us that the interdependent web of life that we are a part of depends on both life and death for it’s continued existence. In his imagined vision of the great web, there is an endless twinkling of beings, planets, stars, and galaxies, as every part of the universe is born and dies. On the human level, he sees that the reality of death is essential in the work of making meaning in our lives.

“Remembering that life is short reminds us that is precious and worth fighting for.”

My faith in the goodness of life allows me to accept death as something natural and necessary. My deepest hope is not for a place in some otherworldly realm upon my death, but that those who knew me will take the very best of my attributes and carry them forward in new and creative expressions.

My second faith statement is that every person has within them a spark of goodness that is waiting to be kindled. Unitarian minister William Ellery Channing, who was a founder of the American Unitarian movement in the early 1800s, proclaimed that every one of us carries within us a divine seed, and that the purpose of life is to grow that divine seed in order to offer ourselves in service to others.

This claim of essential goodness of life or our inborn human capacity for goodness cannot and does not ignore the terrible suffering that also abounds on our planet and in our own community, whether that suffering is caused by human actions or by nature. We must never turn our heads or, as Bob Dylan admonished, pretend that we just don’t see the suffering of others. Our love and joy in life should compel us to do whatever we can — whenever we can — to confront injustice, to heal the injuries, and to reach out to face oppression and misery. Our appreciation and love for the planet must motivate us to protect the environment and to grant the right to life to other species that share our blue-green home. We may feel that our efforts are small, and that in the face of the enormity of the needs and the complexity of the problems, we can’t make a difference. I would ask you to look into the eyes of a child you love and then determine if you can turn your back on the work that you are called to do. For while I understand the sentiment of John Mayer’s song, “Waiting on the World to Change,” I have to say that I can’t wait for the world to change.

Just yesterday, I was reminded of how much the world still needs to change when I learned that cardboard effigies of black men were found in two small towns in Maine on election night hanging from telephone lines. This may have been a prank or an expression of hatred, but it is a reminder to me that I can’t take the election of an African American man as President as a sign that our nation has achieved racial harmony and respect. The world will change, no doubt about it. I want to be involved in creating that change, because I believe that as a UU I’m called to help make our values of inclusion, equity and justice to be a vital part of the coming change.

I believe that we need to pay more attention to what the people of Bhutan call the “Gross National Happiness” (GNH) than to the “Gross National Consumption of Stuff We Don’t Need.” I first heard of GNH while listening to the radio a few mornings ago, and my ears pricked up: What could this mean? I’ve been learning more about GNH and the “post-consumerism” movement via the Internet, and I’d like to share some of what I’m learning with you in a future service.

Investing in GNH will call for some significant changes in our life style that will affect every part of our lives. Re-imagining our national economy in light of the current collapse won’t be easy. The ripple effect of such a massive change is always far-reaching, and for people who are caught up in the worst of the turbulence, the results can be catastrophic. I know how frightening this is, because I’ve been there. I’ve had to rely on the generosity of friends and family for basic needs, and it was a frightening time. I’d suggest that our commitment to Ethical Eating means that we need to provide food to our local agencies on a weekly basis, not just once or twice a year. Those of us who are able to do so should consider upping our contributions to the fourth Sunday collections in support of local agencies that are facing ever-increasing demands for services. These are a couple of simple ways to increase our GNH right way. I know that my Personal Gross Happiness went way up when it was announced that our recent Service Auction did so well, and that we were able to contribute more than we’d promised to the Food Pantry and the Re-Habitat program. I’ll bet that yours did too.

I believe that we all need a community of like-mind and hearts that will encourage us in tough times, whether we’re facing a national crisis or something personal. Please don’t take the words “of like heart and mind” to mean that we have to hold the same views on life, the universe, and all manner of subjects in between. As UUs we hold fast to the words of a 16^th century Unitarian preacher who proclaimed that we do not need to think alike to love alike. We need is to hold one another in compassion and respect. In this light, we can engage together to us to examine and question our assumptions, our values, and our personal faiths. We can do this work in our small groups, during the AfterWord discussions on the first Sunday of the month, or in new ways that we haven’t yet invented. I see this work as one of the most important functions of any Unitarian Universalist congregation — and one that we don’t always manage to do as well as we could.

You might be wondering how my faith has seen me through the tough times in my life — and yes I have known tough times from my childhood on through my adult years. I would say that my faith pulls me out of myself and my small world. Even in times of personal crisis, I can look at the beauty around me and feel peace. I can give time and energy to the needs of another person and build a web of caring and connection that sustains all of us. This doesn’t mean that I’ve never struggled with fear, grief, or despair; I have just as each one of you has. I’ve had to acknowledge that I don’t run the show called “my life,” but I can bring my own interpretation to the script that life hands me.

There is always more that I could say, but I hope I’ve given you an overview of my faith. I hope that I’ve inspired you to examine your faith and how your life expresses your faith. I also hope that I’ve opened a door so that we, as a community of faith, can engage more fully in the work of sharing, growing, and deepening our personal faith — and then finding ways of making our faith visible for all to see.

May it be so.