I left here last Sunday thinking, “Oh my. How am I going to preach every Sunday in that space?” It’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong. This stained glass is spectacular. Were I an Episcopalian priest, I would be thrilled to occupy such a dignified church. But, I’m UU and I’m used to spaces that are more religiously generic. UU churches are nominally adorned. This space does a very good job of reflecting the theology of the people who worship here. Because UUs have different theologies, our churches are minimalistic, allowing a variety of ideas and paths and cultures to find room.
So, I left here last week wondering how I can embrace my own theology and how I can help all of you find yourselves in a space that might not reflect your faith experience, even as we worship here. And, we’ll be here for a while. Our contract is for 2 years. That’s not too long, but we don’t know exactly when we’ll find our new home and it’s certainly long enough for us to need to figure out how we reconcile who we are with where we are.
But, of course, who we are varies quite a lot.
For instance, some of you love the formality of our services or even want more, and some wish for something less formal. Some of you want more lay involvement and some say if that happens, you’ll be going somewhere elsewhere. Some of you love classical music and come here almost exclusively for that while others of you long for contemporary or show tunes or gospel music. Some are so grateful for the addition of the pastoral prayer and some wish we had even more prayer during our service while others are repelled even by the word “prayer”. Some of you have told me you’re here for the sermon and the rest is just padding and some have said you could do without it altogether. And what kinds of sermons you want also varies. Some want sermons to be long and intellectual while others prefer something shorter and more heart-centered.
This isn’t unusual for a UU congregation. Part of the agreement in joining a UU church is that we’ll all make room for each other. This is even more true in a Community Church founded intentionally to be open to the many needs and paths of the people in the community. The term coined to describe this church by Rev. John Haynes Holmes is one I’ve used often; we are a house of prayer for all people.
Unitarian Universalism has changed a lot since our founding, but the spirit of inclusion has been a consistent insight and defining characteristic. As early as 1568, Frances David said, “There is no greater piece of folly than to try to exercise power over conscience and soul; both are subject only to their own creator.” While the Inquisition was using every tool in their belt to ensure uniformity, Unitarians were preaching theological diversity. Of course, for them, it was entirely within the Christian framework, which has changed for us, but the spirit was part of our foundation on which we’ve built our church.
Aside from moving away from our decidedly Christian roots, we’ve been defined by significant cultural shifts as well. Much of that history is embodied in our own history here at Community Church. Without going through it all, I’ll jump to the history in some of your memories.
In the 1950s and 60s, there was a wave of atheistic humanists sometimes accompanied by a Death of God theology. This was generally in response to religious options that seemed narrow and limiting. The God of power and might was gone in the wake of WWII. The century had seen the depth of evil and great technological advances, both of which clarified God’s uselessness. Many people converted to Unitarianism, seeking a religious forum to explore their atheism. In the late 60s and 70s, much of American culture was reimaging God as Liberator, and rereading the Bible with political eyes. Some UUs were doing the same thing, although God was useful only as a justification for social change. Atheism was still the norm in many UU congregations. In the 90s, there was a shift. We see Yoga and Buddhist meditation and other forms of spiritual practice, none of which had Christian roots which helped people not feel obliged to an external, anthropomorphic god. At the turn of this century, studies reported that we had reached a state of real diversity. Our congregations were claiming Christians and Humanists, Buddhists and Eco-Spiritualists, Pagans and Jews. And today we’re seeing a significant shift away from atheism toward theism of some brand.
We’ve even codified our religious diversity in the bylaws of the Unitarian Universalist Association, of which we are members. We claim six sources of truth: the Judeo-Christian tradition, Earth-Centered traditions, Humanism, the world’s religions (which is weirdly vague, but that’s what it says), words and deeds of prophetic, justice-seeking people, and my favorite, direct experience. We are intentionally seeking wisdom from the ancients, from our contemporaries, and from ourselves, also wise, also worth trusting. And in our midst are people who are drawn more to one than another of these sources. That focus does not create division. It brings us depth.
Let’s think about this for a moment. In our Sanctuary at any given time, we are likely to have an atheist. Atheists use reason to understand the world. They take life exactly as it appears, free from superstition, available to reality as it is. Unafraid of punishment in the afterlife, they are motivated by an internal sense of what’s right and wrong. Atheists often have a sense of liberation, of having been set free from an unreasonable system the dictates of which were oppressive. They strive for intellectual honesty and an ability to enjoy and even stand in awe of the mystery of the universe as it is in all its magnificence. UU Atheists call us to heightened use of our reason.
On any given Sunday in our Sanctuary, we are likely to have a Humanist. Humanists have faith in the human condition. Their theology begins with the human experience. They search for knowledge of humans and their duties toward other people. They are deeply relational focusing their energy on the people around them. Humanism and atheism are not the same, although in our circles they are often conflated. UU Humanists call us to be radically present to the human condition, and start all their seeking from that vantage point.
On any given Sunday in our Sanctuary, we are likely to have a Christian. UU Christians freely follow Jesus. They recognize Jesus as a holy man, as the one who first understood himself to participate in what it means to be god, as one who knows we are all god. Jesus’ life is a powerful example of love and sacrifice and UU Christians use that life as a way of understanding the world. They hear and heed the message about serving the poor and healing the sick and visiting the imprisoned. They read Christian Scripture for inspiration and find comfort in being part of a 2,000 year old tradition. UU Christians call us to love each other profoundly and to find god in every one of us.
On any given Sunday in our Sanctuary, we are likely to find a UU Jew. Some of our members were born into families that had been Jewish for millennia. Some speak Hebrew and many celebrate Jewish holidays even as they raise their children in our Sunday School. Judaism has a rich heritage and culture and a rhythm to the year. Fall is the new year, the time for renewal and reflection, something we have institutionalized in our liturgical calendar. Spring is when we celebrate liberation. The home is the holiest place and the family is the primary system. Jews teach us how to search for meaning in history, in creation, in morality, in humanity, in suffering.
On any given Sunday, we are likely to have a pagan in our Sanctuary. Pagans know Earth alive with the divine. They come from many ancient lines, some celebrate the coming of the spring with Maypole and some honor the darkness of the winter by lighting the Yule Log. Some chant at the full moon and drum into the night. For so many pagans, divinity is immanent and they rejoice in the power of the feminine, bringing balance to a world that has often revered the masculine. Pagans move out of their heads and into their bodies, bringing us into an embodied faith. UU Pagans call us to revel in the magnificence of the natural world and to know all of Earth is holy.
On any given Sunday, it is likely we have a Buddhist in our sanctuary. UU Buddhists follow the path of mindfulness. While there are many ways to embrace Buddhism, most use meditation as a primary spiritual practice. UU Buddhists often use Siddartha Gautama’s life as a model for right living, seeking a middle way between hedonism and austerity. Embracing non-violence, they call us into mindfulness, into non-attachment and to a life of compassion.
On any given Sunday, we might have a Hindu in our sanctuary. UU Hindus know that the ground of being is singular and that we all live in an illusion of separation. Knowing our profound and unbreakable connection, they remind us that every action we take affects all other beings, beings who are equal in stature and of one spirit with each of us. UU Hindus remind us of our interdependence.
On any given Sunday in our sanctuary we might have a Muslim, a person who has embraced the principle of spiritual surrender, who lives in radical welcome to the stranger, who freely shares what they have with those in need. And in our sanctuary we might find UU Sufis, out of this tradition, bringing us the message of melting into god, of dancing and breaking down the boundaries of self that we might better know the divine.
On any given Sunday in our Sanctuary, we are likely to have a panentheist who knows that we are greater than the sum of our parts, who celebrates the divinity that has penetrated the natural world and timelessly has extended beyond it. And we are likely to have a process theologian who knows god, like the Earth, to be becoming, to be affected and profoundly connected to evolution. On any given Sunday in our Sanctuary we are likely to find an agnostic who just isn’t sure what she believes and we are likely to have people in our Sanctuary who are more than one of these things, who identify as a UU Jew who is also a Humanist, or a UU Christian who practices Zen meditation.
Rev. Tom Owen-Towle, a UU minister in San Diego once said “I am a mystical humanist with naturalistic leanings and receptivity to disclosures of the divine. I meander comfortably amid the Judeo-Christian motifs and stories of my heritage. My religious vision is tempered by existentialism, grounded in earth-centered spiritualties, aligned with the wisdoms of Asian tradition, especially Taoism, and bathed in trustful agnosticism. In short, as Walt Whitman, a Unitarian mused, “Do I contradict myself?” Yes, I contain multitudes.”
A report on theological diversity done by the Commission on Appraisal some years ago taught me an interesting thing. Our theological landscape is so diverse, everyone feels marginalized. UU pagans, UU Jews, UU Buddhists, UU Christians, 12-step UUs, spiritual UUs, everyone feels marginalized with the Humanists and Atheists reporting less marginalization than the others, but one that’s increasing slowly. I suppose that’s a reality we have to live with. If we are going to stand by our commitment to creedlessness, we’re going to open our doors to many different ways of knowing and interacting with truth and the more different ways there are, the less likely there will be a center. It might be uncomfortable, but I think it’s simply part of the theological and ecclesiastical experiment that is Unitarian Universalism.
And yet, with all that said, with all the many ways and paths and the intentional decentering, Community Church remains a House of Prayer for All People. We incorporate a variety of spiritual paths into our shared religious life. We begin our year with Rosh Hashanah, recognize All Soul’s with our remembering, celebrate advent, Hanukkah, Winter Solstice, Christmas and Kwanza every December, make room for Passover and Easter in the spring, sprinkle American holidays through the year, and end every church year with Flower Communion, most distinctly ours. We do our best to ensure that everyone finds a home here, and that everyone learns how to make room for everyone else.
So, here I stand, a panentheist and UU preacher, from a Jewish mother, baptized Catholic, standing at a reimagined pulpit in a spectacular Episcopalian church. I don’t know what I was worried about; we’re gonna be just fine.