In her sermon on Sunday, Parisa exhorted spiritual seekers to push beyond the boundaries of the familiar, even if such journeying crosses through dragon-filled lands.
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| Credit: Sportsosphere |
Our call to venture forth is issued by the enfleshed God - the Holy Voice that invites us into personal relationship. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28). Of course, the rest of which Jesus here speaks need not mean physical sloth, but rather a peace of mind and levity of heart. It is the sense of wholeness we feel when building new friendships that sustain us. And First Parish as a congregation has already embarked on such a trek, cultivating relationships with Morningstar Baptist Church in Mattapan and our mentor congregation in Richmond, Virginia.
Embracing growth is hard enough; actively pursuing it is even more spiritually challenging. Anne McConney writes: "Here the journey begins, and it is long and not for the faint of heart." In her Buddhist practice of meditation, Pema Chodron exhorts practitioners to take their fears seriously. Rather than shrink from the discomfort of fear, we would do well to study our fear - pick it up, turn it around, sit with it. These fears represent our limits, the borders separating who we are now and the person we aspire to be.
Who do we want to be as a church? And what fears are keeping us back? Which dragons must we slay?
Please: continue the conversation.
In my sermon this morning, I took up the theme of Incarnation by revisiting the Christian model of divine enfleshment. The relevance of this model to present-day Unitarian Universalism derives not from its uniqueness in the world (for there are numerous faiths that depict the Holy in human form), but rather from its historical proximity to our religious heritage.
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| Abtei St. Hildegard |
Ever since the Transcendentalists dislodged Unitarianism from its explicitly biblical foundation in the nineteenth century, our tradition has seen a steady decline in interest in the figure of Jesus. Today, in many Unitarian Universalist congregations, the mere mention of Jesus arouses suspicion and disapproval. How the tides of history turn: banished once from the Church for heresy, we now cast out the very figure for whose humanity these heretics risked their lives.
First Parish in Milton, thankfully, blessedly, still extends the hospitality shown to Buddha and the Goddess to the figure of Jesus as well. Equal opportunity inspiration.
That does not mean, of course, that every member needs to find spiritual sustenance in the Jesus story. But she would do well to maintain an open mind and swelling heart. And my sense is that she does.
So, what then of Jesus?
Former Unitarian minister of Boston's Second Street Church, the Rev. Henry Ware Jr., once described Jesus as "the personification of religion." Rev. Francis Greenwood Peabody, former minister of First Unitarian Church in Harvard Square, added this: "The supreme concern of Jesus throughout his ministry was, — it may be unhesitatingly asserted, — not the reorganization of human society, but the disclosure to the human soul of its relation to God. Jesus was, first of all, not a reformer but a revealer; he was not primarily an agitator with a plan, but an idealist with a vision."
This morning, I offered the following gloss:
The story of Jesus is more about us than it is about Jesus. [...] Heaven is not outside this life, but inside of it, concealed. Jesus reveals to us the location of this worldly heaven: it’s inside of you. You are the site of God. Or as we read in the lesser known Gospel of Thomas: 'The Kingdom is within you.' We commonly conceive of the Incarnation as God touching down to earth. Our Unitarian heritage, though, challenges us to see the Incarnation as humanity touching up to God. Jesus lifted us to the heavens by showing us that we already possess everything we need to live divine lives.
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Jesus lived at a time when the smallness of prejudice clouded society’s vision – not all that dissimilar from the present age, unfortunately. The Roman leaders of that world exploited race and class for imperial gain. Military triumph abroad diverted widespread social inequality at home. And yet, somehow, Jesus saw God where others saw danger, fear and disgust. Jesus saw forgiveness where others saw judgment. Jesus saw love where others saw condemnation. Jesus saw God because he knew that God was personal, that each person serves as the site of God. The clarity of his vision was not perfect eye-sight, but wondrous heart-sight. It was 20-20 vision of the soul.
I shouldn't over-state my reverence for Jesus. There are countless episodes in the New Testament when I want to speak out against his actions (or the way his actions were remembered and recorded). Jesus can be a deeply disturbing figure. That said, it is precisely this counter-cultural challenge for which I appreciate Jesus the most. In the words of Rainer Maria Rilke's classic poem, Archaic Torso of Apollo: "You must change your life."
Who is Jesus to you? And do you believe that Unitarian Universalists should spend more or less time with Jesus?
Please: continue the conversation.
One of the most powerful and provocative learnings that Parisa shared with us this past Sunday was that of discipline. In committing herself to, and then training for, a triathlon earlier this year, she developed a physical routine to which she held herself accountable. It is tempting, Parisa admitted, to be lured into endless cross-training, switching exercises on a whim. And certainly, there is something to be said for 'switching it up' from time to time, in order to isolate different muscles. But the tendency to bounce around in an unfocused frenzy can be equally as damaging as falling victim to an overall flakiness - both result in underdeveloped strength and weak stamina.
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| Credit: Mike Baird |
The jump from physical discipline to spiritual discipline is obvious, though often neglected. Growing up as a Unitarian Universalist, I had little difficulty finding someone (usually a family member, friend or coach) to coax me into playing a physical sport. First it was basketball, then soccer, then volleyball. All three demanded rigorous training and intense commitment. But when it came to spiritual exercise, I found myself empty-handed, unhelpfully counseled to 'follow my search for truth and meaning.' I'll follow, I agreed, but I first need to learn how to walk!
Tending to the needs of our spiritual health is vitally important, I believe. I've seen it in my own life. When I'm spiritually disciplined, I feel more centered, more grounded, more alert, more receptive.
Of course, the very idea of discipline can seem off-putting to some - a relapse of that authoritarian religious sentiment we threw off by becoming Unitarian Universalists. Here, French mystic Simone Weil may be of assistance. On her view, we would do well to draw a distinction between externally-imposed and internally-motivated discipline. The former should be avoided, the latter embraced. For self-willed commitment - a personal pledge to spiritual practice - can in fact be liberating. If you think about it, there is something inherently unsettling about the absence of such discipline. Without it, we are little more than slaves to the anarchy of external circumstance. To be spiritually disciplined is to take responsibility for making meaning on our own. It is to receive the world, filter it through our practice, and then live on those spiritual nutrients.
Do you have a spiritual practice? Would you consider yourself disciplined? Should Unitarian Universalists be spiritually disciplined? Why, or why not?
Please: continue the conversation.
