"Our Faith Today, Part II"

Unitarian Universalism is a faith tradition 

        that is truly open to learning from others,

                as generations of children 

                        who have taken their religious education with us

                                can remember and attest.

They have observed religious rituals on field trips to temples and mosques,

        they can speak authoritatively about Divali and Ramadan,

                and they are almost as familiar with stories from the Bhagavad Gita

                        as they are from Doctor Seuss.

We have sought to nurture open minds

        and teach tolerance in our young

                by immersing them in religious pluralism.

We have prepared them well 

        to grasp the complex issues      

                that challenge the world every day.

 

What we have not done so well

        is to teach them our own tradition.

We correctly assume that our values of openness and tolerance

        are implicit in these explorations,

                and we trust that they will guide them safely back home.

But we rarely point out that just as other religions 

        have their spiritual practices,

                ours does too,

                        and we might be hard pressed to say 

                                what our spiritual practices actually are.

Just this week I attended an interfaith meeting

        in which a Protestant pastor spoke disparagingly 

                of the "tour bus" approach to experiencing religious diversity.

"On this side, we have Hanukkah,

        and on that side, Christmas,

                and look – coming right up, there's Kwanzaa!" 

                        she joked.

She wasn't referring to Unitarian Universalism (I'm fairly certain),

        but I had to suppress the impulse

                to speak out in defense

                        of what people think we are all about!

Sometimes this is what we think 

        we are all about, too.

 

And yet, we do have practices of our own,

        deeply rooted disciplines that constitute 

                a Unitarian Universalist spiritual life.

They are distinctive because they are grounded

        in an approach to faith

                that emphasizes ethics and character,

                        rather than creeds and belief.

They teach us how to live in the world,

        grow in character,

                learn from each other,

                        and make a positive contribution to life 

                                as it evolves and changes.

Yet we are so accustomed to seeing ourselves

        the way others sometimes do,

                that we tend to minimize the work,

                        the struggle,

                                and the discipline required to be a Unitarian Universalist.

Our spiritual tradition owes a lot to the Transcendentalists,

        Unitarian renegades who brought passion and originality

                to nineteenth century thought and literature.

One Transcendentalist, Henry David Thoreau, 

        captured the ethos of Unitarianism 

                in a characteristically succinct quip

                        attributed to him on his deathbed.

When someone attending Thoreau as he lay dying

        asked him if he could see the "other side,"

                Thoreau responded, "One world at a time."

 

For all of their interest in the many worlds of religious ideas –

        and the Transcendentalists were the first 

                to introduce a pluralistic world view into our tradition –

                        they consistently grounded themselves

                                in the here and now.

"I wish to live deep," wrote Thoreau.

And he did.

 

We Unitarian Universalists wish to live deep too,

        one world at a time,

                with minds open enough to appreciate new experiences

                        and nimble enough to keep growing.

And that is not all.

We also wish to have full hearts –

        capable of giving and receiving love,

                and of feeling the bonds of human care.

We all wish that our lives 

        could make a positive difference in some way –

                and that when we die, 

                        we can rest knowing our work is done.

Our yearnings for transcendence take on diverse shapes,

        from a belief in God

                to a passion for science;

                        we all yearn, 

                                in one way or another.

Traditional spiritual practices, 

        such as meditation or contemplative prayer,

                have given many of us a way to center ourselves

                        within the vast and mysterious experience 

                                of being alive.

But some of us have no affinity for formal practice;

        and life itself is the practice for us all.

 

And that is where we all must begin.

In Walden, Henry David Thoreau takes on all the different ways

        in which we make life too complicated

                and difficult for ourselves.

He advocates voluntary simplicity in many areas –

        work, economy, consumption –

                and even in spirituality.

"I think we may safely trust

        a good deal more than we do,"

                Thoreau observes.

 

That simple statement of faith guides us 

        to a spiritual practice

                that is embedded in our tradition.

We trust life.

We do not turn to belief to tell us 

        exactly what we may trust 

                or what benefits will come to us if we do.

We go it alone, 

        unencumbered by dogma.

We have our freedom,

        but not the security afforded by a tidy closed system.

This is the hard and open path,

        which takes courage.

 

Sometimes it takes everything we have to keep up our courage.

We do it every day – several times a day.

Ask anyone in this room.

It takes courage to trust life,

        but that is what we do.

 

Trusting life is more than overriding our fear of the unknown.

It is also an attitude of appreciation

        towards the gift of life we have received

                and the world in which we have our being.

In another passage from Thoreau's Walden,

        he recounts a rainy day when he was feeling depressed.

"I was suddenly sensible of such sweet and beneficent society in Nature,"

        he writes,

                "in the very pattering of the drops,

                        and in every sound around my house,

                                an infinite and unaccountable friendliness all at once

                                        like an atmosphere sustaining me."

 

Even though we face many difficult times,

        we always return to the awareness that life is good.

We work to hold on to that awareness,

        even when bitterness threatens to overcome us

                or despair throws us a nasty curve.

If life is our practice,

        our spiritual discipline is the will to trust 

                that life is good.

 

Another spiritual practice – 

        is the discipline of individual growth 

                or self-improvement.

This practice is also rooted in our tradition.

The liberal preacher and mentor to the Transcendentalists,

        William Ellery Channing, 

                spoke of  it as "self-culture,"

                        in an address he gave to thousands of people

                                who packed a downtown Boston hall 

                                        in September, 1838.

The human capacity for self-searching belongs to our nature,

        Channing declared,

                but the fact that we are also "self-forming"

                        is the "ground of human responsibility."

We have the capacity and the responsibility

        to make ourselves better people.

Not only that,

        but "there is more of divinity in it,"

                according to Channing,

                        "than in the force which impels the outward universe;

                                and yet how little we comprehend it!"

 

Unitarian Universalists today still live our lives by this insight.

We understand that life has given us a gift to be developed.

The work it takes to grow in so many ways –

        emotionally and intellectually –

                is spiritual work for us.

There is a moral dimension to development,

        a responsibility to actualize this divine power 

                and use it to make our contribution to the world.

Much of what we might call holy

        is the strength we find to grow and to change

                in constructive and healing directions.

 

Our spiritual practices are not all solitary.

Having the courage to trust life

        and the wish to grow

                are individual efforts,

                        but another important practice is rooted

                                in community.

To participate in a Unitarian Universalist church

        is to undertake the spiritual discipline of democracy.

 

The democratic process is a rigorous 

        and sometimes wrenching exercise

                in accepting the decisions and directions

                        the majority elect.

And while most of us see our church

        as a community of likeminded souls,

                real differences do exist

                        and require us to make choices as a group.

How to live with these choices

        and with each other is the spiritual practice of our community.

 

Anyone who has been involved here,

        or in any other Unitarian Universalist church

                for any length of time,  

                        learns the challenges of this practice.

We see it here, 

        in decisions we make about our building,

                our budget,

                        and our leadership.

We recently made a collective decision

        about the display of the American flag on our property.

For every decision we make,

        some will disagree.

Conflict can be painful.

 

But our practice of democracy challenges us to stay in community

        even when a decision does not reflect our preference.

We learn to yield our individual position

        to the will of the majority.

We move on together.

This is very hard work,

        and not everyone will choose to do it.

But those who do 

        have made an extraordinary personal contribution

                to the common good

                        and deepened our spiritual life as a community.

 

The spiritual discipline of democracy teaches us

        about the very real interdependence in all life.

Unitarian Universalism is a relational practice.

Implicit in it is the assumption

        that we "live deep," to use Thoreau’s expression,

                through our bonds with one another.

These bonds are infinitely deep,

        renewable and transforming.

They are the spiritual reward of our common faith.

Whether individual or collective,

        Unitarian Universalism asks us to be present to life:

                our practice is simple, 

                        immediate 

                                and real.

We take the challenges and the possibilities 

        we meet in each and every day

                and use them to shape our souls

                        and our faith.

The religious diversity we see in the world

        and in ourselves stimulates and sharpens our sense

                of the work to do:

                        the need to know ourselves 

                                by living deep.

 

This Unitarian Universalist practice is rooted in our history,

        but it chooses the present over the past –

                and even that choice is rooted in our history.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote,

        "Why should not we enjoy 

                an original relation to the universe?

Why should not we have a poetry and philosophy 

        of insight and not of tradition,

                and a religion by revelation to us,

                        and not a history of theirs?

The sun shines also today.

There are new lands,

        new men and women,

                new thoughts.

Let us demand our own works and law and worship."

 

We have close at hand everything we need

        to live deep:

                open minds,

                        yearning spirits,

                                full hearts.

We have a community to encourage us

        and challenge us in the way of freedom.

By this practice and on this path together,

        our souls will grow.

References used to prepare this sermon include: Walden, by Henry David Thoreau (Boston: Beacon Press, 1997), Self-Culture, by William Ellery Channing (Boston, 1838), and Selections from Ralph Waldo Emerson (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1957)