"The Glorious Golden City"

READING

 

Social ethicist and theologian James Luther Adams was one of the most important Unitarian

Universalist thinkers of our time. His life spanned nearly the entire twentieth century. Deeply

influenced by the tragedy of the holocaust, Adams saw the church as a covenantal community - a

community of people who were willing to be a little uncomfortable at times in the effort to

move faithfully towards justice. He used biblical references with wisdom and imagination, as he

does in his essay titled "Covenants of Strength and Love." He writes about the covenant of the

Hebrew people with their god.

 

". . . Notice," [he wrote], "what is implicit in this conception of covenant. . . . If we

define religion as loyalty to that which is considered ultimately reliable - to that which is

considered ultimately worthy of our loyalty - then here we have a historical religion of unique

quality. . . .

 

"The ultimately reliable object of devotion in this religion is the power that delivers from

slavery - not only slavery in Egypt, but also from slavery to the monarch, to the social

conventions, or to the prevailing religion of the age. It is devotion to that power which gives

unity of ethical purpose to the people. This people, as a community, is responsible to this

power, it is covenanted to achieve righteousness and justice, fearful of the catastrophe that

comes from idolatry and injustice.

 

"Every human being, regardless of whether one has a theology or not, regardless of whether one

rejects God as commonly understood or not, holds something to be dependable, or sacred, or

sovereign. So we may say that the covenant religion of Israel calls that "God," or "divine,"

which brings into being and maintains a community that is consciously dedicated to achieving

righteousness in the community at large." 

 

 

SERMON:

 

"Every human being," writes James Luther Adams,

        "regardless of whether one has a theology or not,

                regardless of whether one rejects God 

                        as commonly understood or not,

                                holds something to be dependable,

                                        or sacred,

                                                or sovereign."

We require a sense of ultimacy 

        to orient us amid the ambiguities of life

                and give meaning and direction to our days.

And loyalty to what is ultimately reliable

        is the foundation of every faith.

 

As varied as our images of ultimacy might be,

        we cannot resist generating them.

They inspire narratives and lessons

        that teach us who we are 

                and where we are going

                        and why it matters.

They show us something worthy of our struggle and our work.

 

We Unitarian Universalists have chosen 

        not to limit our image of ultimacy

                to a single name or process –

                        God, evolution, spirit of life, love, justice –

                                for words themselves are not adequate. 

Instead, we try to live our lives

        loyal to that which has no single name,

                but is dependable, powerful and transforming all the same.

We have a hard time talking about our faith,

        but we are faithful to a way of life.

What is ultimate to us

        is the sum total of every choice,

                every struggle,

                        every risk,

                                and every effort

                                        we have ever made.

We live as if it matters – 

        ultimately –

                what we do.

 

The little Japanese story I told earlier in the service

        illustrates beautifully how such faith works.

A young man named Shobei converts the casual encounter

        with a worthless thing,

                a straw,

                        into a series of objects of increasing value,

                                until he shares his good fortune 

                                        with all the people of his land.

Some greater force is at work along the way –

        or is it just the random motion

                from one event to another –

                        that leads him to the final happy conclusion?

 

Even casual encounters can lead to great endings.

And worthless objects grow in value

        when they are the bearers of greater meaning.

What makes the difference

        is the value and sincerity we bring to the process.

Shobei's generous spirit accrued

        along with his good fortune.

 

Today is the day we set aside to reflect together

        on the work of our church.

At our Annual Meeting, 

        we take stock of where we have been

                and we consider where we are going.

Our work as a community may seem insignificant

        in the larger scheme of the cosmos,

                but it is work that matters – ultimately –

                        to us and to our world.

 

In one sense,

        the work of the church is symbolic.

It stands for the ultimate value of any effort

        that we make in the service of principle.

The intensity we feel about how we make decisions,

        or allocate our resources,

                reflects this symbolic quality.

 

In another sense, 

        the work of the church makes explicit 

                our covenant to bond ourselves to each other

                        and to the foundation of our faith.

That is why the covenant we read together 

        at the opening of the service

                offers a statement of the values 

                        we affirm as a community:

love,

        truth,

                peace,

                        knowledge,

                                freedom,

                                        service,

                                                and fellowship.

It is not meant to be binding or exhaustive,

        but rather descriptive of the spirit

                in which we gather and work together.

It omits any reference to God,

        although original versions of this affirmation

                did once contain it.

Ours leaves unspoken what we can only debate.

 

The covenant we use 

        is one we can speak with one voice,

                sincerely and unambiguously.

"To dwell together in peace;

        to seek knowledge in freedom;

                to serve humankind;"

                        these aspirations infuse our community with purpose

                                and our work with higher value.

They draw us together and make us a community.

 

These aspirations accrue meaning

        with every action we take,

                and grow in value by the sincerity and generosity

                        we bring to them.

We cannot take them seriously enough.

They are one way we speak of what matters – ultimately – to us all.

The other night, at another annual meeting,

        of Unitarian Universalist congregations in southern California,

                Arizona, and Nevada, 

                        we heard a wonderful talk about the covenant of community.

Rebecca Parker, president of our theological school in Berkeley, 

        the Starr King School for Religious Leadership,

                challenged us to consider the example 

                        of a small church she once served in Seattle.

The congregation was aging 

        and the neighborhood was changing.

It looked as if they might have to close their doors.

But then something started to change.

People started to come to church, she said,

        because they actually wanted to practice the faith

                they heard spoken there.

 

These new people shook things up a bit.

Some of the old-timers left,

        but not too many.

Instead, the church found a new life

        and a new people of faith

                to serve,

                        to comfort,

                                and to inspire.

Rebecca Parker told us 

        that if we were to take ourselves as seriously

                as do the people who come through our doors 

                        for the first time,

                                we would find ourselves living up to a vision

                                        far beyond what we thought possible to achieve.

It matters – ultimately – what we do.

The work of the church is serious 

        in the sense that it expresses our relationship

                to the ultimate 

                        and to all that we hold sacred.

Every time we act       

        as if this is not so,

                we break our covenant with each other

                        and diminish the meaning and the value

                                of what we could become.

Every time we take ourselves as seriously

        as those who need us do,

                we have the power to be the church 

                        our world calls us to be.       

 

The reason for the committees, 

        the meetings,

                the budget, 

                        the reports,

                                the debates,

                                        and the votes is simply this:

To nurture and keep safe the community 

        that is our human response

                to that which we hold ultimate and sacred;

                        and to remember that what we do 

                                matters so much because this is so.

And what we do 

        will take us where we want to go

                if we take our work and each other seriously enough.

 

In the words of the familiar hymn,

        the image of the "glorious, golden city" 

reminds us that what lies at the end of the struggle

        is always worth it,

                and will not perish with the years.

Felix Adler, author of the hymn

        and founder of the Ethical Culture movement,

                used an unlikely source for the image:

                        the book of Revelations,                

                                which proclaims a vision of a New Jerusalem,

                                        a shining city on a hill.

An image that inspires humanists and Pentecostals alike,

        the glorious golden city is also a good one for us,

                for the past year has brought us the question

                        of what should we build too.

Though we don't have all the answers,

        we do know that something good 

                will come of the work

                        if we remember how much it means to us –

                                and how much it means

                                        to those who need to find us.

 

It's a lot of work.

Sometimes it's a struggle.

But it’s worth it.

The work that we are doing 

        affirms that we take ourselves seriously enough

                to extend the hospitality,

                        the vision

                                and the meaning of our faith to others.

How else can we say "we're here"

        to the parents who search 

                for an open, intelligent, life-affirming approach

to religious education for their children?

Or to the young people who realize 

        that something is missing

                and place their longing for a spiritual home at our front step?

Or to the empty nesters, who decide that they finally have the time 

        to put their faith in action?

Or to the newcomers to this vast and impersonal city,

        who won't make it without warmth 

                and a new friend or two?

Or to anyone who is hurt and broken 

        and still believes 

                that a church is a place of comfort and healing?

 

This is the reason for the meetings and debates;

        this is why we work as we do:

                we are the builders of that glorious golden city,

                        and we will make it a powerful and life-transforming force

                                for good in the world.

We believe that it matters –

        and it matters ultimately –

                that when someone needs us,

                        we are here.

We believe this is what the universe requires of us.

Our faith rests ultimately with what we can do.

 

"Hail the glorious golden city" is an honest hymn

        about the realities of building 

                the community of our dreams.

It shines because of the care and the struggle we pour into it,

        not because we are always happy about it

                or always right or blameless, either.

And whoever we are, 

        "humble or exalted,"

                we are called to the task

                        of serving the ultimately reliable

                                and sacred reality

                                        for which this church stands.

Though we will perish,

        it will not;

                and it will carry the meaning, 

                        the loyalty 

                                and the care we give it

                                        and it will matter, ultimately,

                                                that we did.