"Unitarian Universalism Then and Now "

READING

William Ellery Channing lived from 1780 to 1842 and for forty of those years he was minister of the Arlington Street Church in Boston. He called himself a Unitarian - and gave that name to the growing liberal religious movement of his day. Channing had much to say - about human potential, about Christianity and the bible, about reason and tolerance; he had a strong sense of democracy and social justice; and preached that religion evolved along with knowledge and understanding.

I read a couple of short excerpts from his writings to give you a sense of his message; here, about humanity:

In every [human] mind and life all other minds and lives are more or less represented and wrapped up. To study other things, I must go into the outward world, and perhaps go far. To study the science of spirit, I must come home and enter my own soul. The profoundest books that have ever been written do nothing more than bring out, place in clear light, what is passing in each of your minds. So near you, so within you, is the grandest truth.

And about the church:

Indeed it seems to us utterly repugnant to the idea of a universal religion, intended for all ages and nations, and for all the progressive states of society to the end of the world, to suppose that in its infancy it established an order of worship, instruction, and discipline, which was to remain inviolable in all future times.

The fact is that the church, from its beginning, had been imperfect in knowledge and practice, and our business is not to rest in the past, but to use it as a means of a purer and brighter futurity . . . .

SERMON

You may wonder why I say, when I welcome everyone to our service each week, "Unitarian Universalism is an historic faith, rooted in the beginnings of American democracy and in movements for religious freedom all over the world." You've heard it all before - many times, unless you happen to be here for the first time. What I want everyone to know, even the most casual visitor, is that our tradition goes back many years; and while it is distinctly American, it shares a lineage with liberal religions elsewhere.

We hear our story in the words of Francis David, the Unitarian from Transylvania who won the debate over religious freedom. "You do not need to think alike to love alike," he argued, convincingly. The Unitarians of Eastern Europe were isolated and had little direct impact on the faith tradition that developed in this country. Yet they share a kinship with us, for our similarities are compelling.

It was William Ellery Channing, speaking as the leader of the liberal wing of American Christianity, who applied the Unitarian name to the movement here. Invoking its heretical claim for the unity of God and rejecting the divinity of Jesus, Channing appropriated the Unitarian identity for religious liberals. The name stuck, even while the theology kept moving.

Both Unitarians and Universalists have lively histories immersed in theological debates about the nature of God and the salvation of humankind. You might conclude from these beginnings that Unitarian Universalists today should concern ourselves primarily with theology. But we rarely do - at least, I don't. From time to time we receive an invitation to review our theological diversity or renew our language of reverence, to mention two initiatives from UU headquarters. But I find myself wanting to simplify these issues, not dwell on them. And I think I am not alone.

How did I get that way? It has to do with our history. We are not in the same place where we once began. And neither am I.

William Ellery Channing pointed out that religion should change. It should open itself to new understandings. "Our business is not to rest in the past," he wrote.

Channing was immensely hopeful, confident in the human potential to grow and change, and committed to reason and education. He fully expected that those who followed him would know more and revise their faith accordingly. Although he died nearly twenty years before Charles Darwin published his theory of evolution, one can't help but sense that Channing held a similar theory about religion. Everything changes. And if you are as confident and hopeful as Channing, you expect it to change for the better.

When I was learning Unitarian Universalism as a child, certain ideas affected me deeply. I caught the confidence and hope of Channing. I acquired a faith in people and what they could accomplish; a faith in science and the importance of reason. I didn't acquire a theology. Though I had many questions myself, I felt nurtured in my church community, and that was enough. Questions about the existence of God or the divinity of Jesus were simply questions - perhaps others had their answers, but I didn't. I could see that the answers divided people.

I have to admit, I sometimes felt something was lacking. I had no catechism class after school, no Hebrew language to learn. Other children were busy absorbing ancient rituals and beliefs, and I wasn't. I was learning something else, which didn't have the same currency on the playground, although now I know just how valuable it is.

Years later, when I decided to become a Unitarian Universalist minister, my education exposed me to the religious culture I thought I had missed: the catechisms and languages, rituals, and beliefs, of other peoples' faith. Harvard Divinity School - even though it was once the province of the Channing liberals and the Unitarians who came after him - is a diverse interfaith environment in modern times. I studied with evangelicals, Catholics, feminist New Testament scholars, aspiring ministers of many denominations, and representatives of every world religion. My experience was similar to what our sixth and seventh graders learn in their class called "Neighboring Faiths." I got to know people who were very different from me in many ways, and because I knew them, I felt affection and respect for them, whatever their beliefs.

I remember someone who wrote every term paper as if it were a sermon, and ended each paper with an "Amen" as well as endnotes. He planned to be a missionary in Central America. I had Southern Baptist friends who were bucking the system by grabbing a few years of liberal education - and Red Sox games - before ordination and life in a small town somewhere. Because I cared about these people, I felt protective and non-judgmental about their faith.

And I studied theology. (I sat next to our affiliate minister, Silvio Nardoni, in Theology 101.) I learned the words and ways of talking about God. I read the work of theologians, who struggled to reconcile the suffering of existence with the existence of an all-powerful Creator; and who sought to make their faith intellectually grounded and real. I entered a new realm and I liked it. Here was where we addressed the deepest concerns and anxieties of being alive: why are we here? where did we come from? what happens after we die? And here was where fine and faithful minds applied themselves to the seeking of answers. I felt a kinship with all those seekers, especially the ones who spoke of anxiety.

I learned appreciation for all the ways people have struggled for meaning. I grew in tolerance and respect for the effort. I saw how all scripture, approached with an open mind, could yield wisdom for the reader. Most of all, I learned that Francis David's bold affirmation that you do not need to think alike to love alike contained a valuable insight.

Peoples' beliefs may differ, but how different are we in our humanity? We love alike. We might even discover, as Channing and after him, the Transcendentalists, believed, that deep inside ourselves there is a universal spirit - a common truth - that belongs to everyone. "To study the science of spirit," Channing writes, "I must come home and enter my own soul. The profoundest books that have ever been written do nothing more than bring out, place in clear light, what is passing in each of your minds. So near you, so within you, is the grandest truth."

Studying the diversity of religious experience led me to conclude that we are more alike than we are different. These days, when beliefs cause not only misunderstanding and alienation but hatred and violence, it sounds terribly naïve. Our differences are scary. The theological systems that humans have constructed to give justification for our faith are elaborate walls that keep us apart. Sad to say, the creative work of theology and religious imagination has not lived up to its task of responding to our anxiety and questions about our existence so that we might live better lives. I think it is better to live without answers.

In a way, I have come full circle, back to the simple affirmations of the Unitarian Universalism of my childhood: that we should try to seek the good in everyone, that all people can grow and learn, and make the world a better place. And perhaps - and I hope this is true - we are more alike deep down than we will ever know. This hope depends on how well we secure the conditions of freedom and tolerance that give each of us the right to think for ourselves. Just as it did, more than four hundred years ago, when King John of Transylvania gave his people the right to worship as they wished. Francis David said that we need not think alike to love alike. Perhaps the human capacity to love also depends on how well we look beyond differences to seek a common truth within us.

William Ellery Channing never despaired about humanity. "There is an infinity of resource in the human soul," he wrote. "It breaks out suddenly into new and unexpected forms. . . . In such a world, who shall set limits to change and revolution?"

Channing's genius and charm came from his great confidence and his hope in the future. He fully expected religion to evolve, theology to change, and the church of his day to be something altogether different in our day. Though the questions remain and the anxiety mounts, perhaps the best response is not to seek answers, but courage: to trust life and to trust ourselves to bring out the best - perhaps even against all the odds - so that future generations will be free to love alike, and free to think for themselves; in a world where tolerance and respect will keep everyone safe.

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Sources used to prepare this sermon include: William Ellery Channing, "Channing Day by Day," compiled by Jose Chapiro (Boston: Beacon Press, 1948); David E. Bumbaugh, "Unitarian Universalism: A Narrative History" (Chicago:Meadville Lombard Press, 2000).