Justice

Just as I was heading to bed last night, the news stormed in: Osama bin Laden had been killed. A tired but relieved President Obama insisted that "on nights like this one, we can say to those families who have lost loved ones to al Qaeda’s terror: Justice has been done."

President Obama announces Osama bin Laden's death

I join the President in celebrating the closure that this death may bring to those families still grieving heart-wrenching loss. I celebrate with those government and military officials who feel seen, and valued, for their ongoing commitment to keeping this country safe.


And still we must confess: the line between justice and vengeance is dangerously thin. "Do not gloat when your enemy falls," we read in the Book of Proverbs (24.17), "when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice." These are hard words to accept, especially when we feel like dancing with Miriam. What reaction might they prescribe?


Three trillion dollars and over 5800 casualties later, it is not death that we should celebrate. Justice lies not in what we destroy but in what we create. The timbrels we bang with Miriam mark less the benediction of murderous revenge and more the invocation of our journey into a new life-together.


Blessedly, we have our guides: the Arab youth who have taken liberation into their own hands through democratic revolution. Truly, they do justice every time they reject bin Laden's model of Muslim liberation, predicated on bloodthirsty violence against their own and the West. 


These youth know the truth Lao Tse once uttered: "War summons hunger." Yet, they have chosen the manna of rightful empowerment over the gluttony of righteous power. 


Might they have something to teach us?


Please: continue the conversation. 

Weeping

This past Sunday, Parisa introduced evil back into our Universalist campaign for an outloving Love. She referenced a memorable anecdote about an elderly gentleman who approached her years ago in the receiving line with the words: 'It's good to be reminded of evil from time to time.' The privilege of having to be reminded!

Do you have to be reminded? Or are you reminded in more regular intervals?


A quick scan of the New York Times renders evil into sharp relief: a bloated budget, continual rocket fire, rampant nuclear contamination, vicious immigration woes, the list goes on. Some of us may confront evil in more immediate and personal ways, on the job, in the streets, by word of mouth. I imagine that for most, evil rears its head in masked forms, hiding in cultures and institutions of which we are a part.


Liberal religion has always struggled to strike an adequate balance between the divine and the demonic. Our affirmation of human goodness has at times dangerously sidestepped the truth of human badness. Distancing ourselves from the original sin of the Fall, we have neglected to admit and atone for the many Falls we make in our daily lives.


In the words of poet Anne Porter:

We're still in Babylon but

We do not weep

Why should we weep?

We have forgotten

How to weep



We must not forget to weep. And we must not forget that weeping can be one of the holiest responses to evil. Yes, we should stand up, speak out, overturn. But deep healing begins with shedding tears: allowing ourselves feel the waves of anger and sorrow and fear wash over us, even purify us, and then let them go.


"My tears are my food day and night" (Psalm 42:3).


Please: continue the conversation.

Universalism Against Fear

Upon further reflection, I realize that I may have let us off the hook a bit too easily this past Sunday. Undoubtedly, it was important to emphasize the Universalist Gospel of our inherent savedness. But if we are to spiritually overthrow the pervasive fear that grips our nation, we must recognize the necessity of working together, and above all, holding one another accountable. 


On Sunday, I used the wilderness story of Exodus (16:13-20) as a touchstone, recalling the stench that proceeded nightfall and the Israelite decision to hoard food:

My beloved religious companions: do you smell something in the air? Now that night is retreating; now that the stock market is once again sputtering; do you smell something in the air? As the rubble of earthquakes and oil spills and armed uprisings is cleared away, do you smell something in the air of these United States of America? Because I do. I can smell the stench of fear. I can smell the stench of selfishness. And like Moses, I’m getting angry.

I’m angry that the persistence of the American Dream depends on the perpetuation of the American Nightmare. Some enjoy the best healthcare in the world because others have none. Some enjoy generous corporate bonuses year after year because others work three jobs just to survive. Some enjoy top schooling and safe neighborhoods and large homes because others have been pushed to the further side of the Avenue.

Our aching souls are the symptoms of a system at its breaking point. I hear the world crying out for us to stop: ‘Stop living for yourselves at the expense of others. Stop being so selfish. Let go of what is not yours to take.’ [...]

Broken systems reflect broken spirits. And I have to believe that underneath the abuses of self-interest lurk the wounds of self-doubt. Between nightfall and daybreak, fear set in. We have become distrustful of ourselves.

I then invoked our Universalist heritage as a powerful spiritual antidote to self-fear and self-hatred:

So here’s the short of it: I want you to know that you are outloved.

In the face of self-fear, Universalism has the audacity to declare that each and every one of us is already loved beyond measure. Each and every one of us is worthy of salvation. Just by being you, you have already passed the test. You see: our ancestors knew that you will experience more love in your lifetime than you can possibly author with the pen of your own heart. Even in the longest hours of loneliness, the Source of your soul rejoices within your breast. You are outloved. What a terribly beautiful truth. Overwhelming in fact. Hard to believe. Taken on faith. Even in the longest hours of loneliness, when the world feels like it’s falling apart, you are being held in a greater love. The Divine believes in you. [...]

To be saved, I think, is to be oriented towards what is Ultimate. To be rooted. To be seen. It’s finding your place in the world, knowing your purpose, answering the call to deliver the bread of life. To be saved is to be lovely. And to be loveable. And to be loving.

The message is an important one to hear over and over again. It reminds us that individually, we are worthy. What was missing was the reminder that collectively, we are responsible. Even when scared, even in the thick of darkness, we have to call one another to our better selves. And we have to name the times we fall short of the salvation at hand. 

In the wilderness, we may need someone to step in - someone to call us out on our hoarding and call us back to the Good News of our collective fate. What if, instead of retreating to their private tents, the Israelites had drawn together in the commons, listening deeply and supporting one another amidst the onset of fear? 

Please: continue the conversation. 

Churching

This past Sunday, Parisa reminded us that living Good News does not always equate to enjoying good times. Being in community is both wondrously fulfilling and deeply challenging. It asks us to step forward and lead, as well as to step back and follow; to privilege the common need over the personal want; to risk failure and be willing to grant forgiveness. Doing church is truly counter-cultural.


When announcing the offering, I hazarded: what would it mean to think of church as a verb, not a noun? Together we are churching. Church is not a place we go or an institution to which we contribute, separate from our own lives. Rather, church is an active movement towards the realm of God that beckons. It is indistinguishable from the coins we drop in a homeless person's hat, the prayer of gratitude we whisper before turning off the lights, the meal we cook for a fellow parishioner who recently gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. We church in our daily lives. Even though we may not all be gathered in a meetinghouse or committee meeting, we nevertheless carry the values and connections of our togetherness into the many spaces of our individual lives.


In a letter to Jane Tuckerman dated 1838, Margaret Fuller describes a powerful religious experience that transformed living into churching: “In the evening I went into the church-yard: the moon sailed above the rosy clouds. That crescent moon rose above the heavenward-pointing spire. At that hour a vision came upon my soul, whose final scene last month interpreted. The rosy clouds of illusion are all vanished, the moon has waxed to full. May my life be a church, full of devout thoughts, and solemn music.”


What does it mean to you to church?


Please: continue the conversation.

The Universalist Bell Tolls

As the buzz over the Rev. Rob Bell's (apparently blasphemous) universalism grows louder, I thought I might devote this week's reflection to measuring the noise. Admittedly, I have not been able to get my hands on a copy of his controversial tract. So I must proceed with great caution. However, there are a number of early reviews that shed light on Bell's theological positioning.


Here's what I have been able to ascertain to date:


1) Bell's approach to theology is question-driven. In fact, it sounds like most of the book consists of unanswered, rhetorical questions. An interesting way to do theology (and one, I imagine, many Unitarian Universalists would endorse). To my mind, one especially compelling string of inquiry reads: If salvation is a free gift that "we cannot earn by our own efforts, works, or good deeds - and all we have to do is accept and confess and believe, aren’t those verbs? And aren’t verbs actions? Accepting, confessing, believing-those are things we do. Does that mean, then, that going to heaven is dependent on something I do? How is any of that grace? How is that a gift? How is that good news?" As evident here, Bell digs below the popular Evangelical speak to uncover, and then investigate, hidden commitments and assumptions.


2) Bell advocates a Restorationist Universalism. In other words, God may temporarily punish individuals after death for the sin of disbelief, but will not condemn anyone to eternal torment. This strand of Universalism can be traced back to James Relly, John Murray and, most notably, Edward Turner. It contrasts with the Ultra-Universalism of Caleb Rich and Hosea Ballou, according to which punishment is immediately imposed at the moment of sinning in the form of alienation from God and the righteous life. Again, Bell seems to land in the former camp: "No matter how painful, brutal, oppresive, no matter how far people find themselves from home because of their sin, indifference, and rejection, there’s always the assurance that it won’t be this way forever." Elsewhere, Bell takes up the unsettling verse from Matthew: "And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life"(25:36). Bell analyzes the Greek (aion) to show that "Jesus isn’t talking about forever as we think of forever."


3) Bell's Universalism remains Christocentric. He won't let go of Jesus, to the point of sounding a lot like Karl Rahner's "Anonymous Christianity." Drawing on the portrayal of Jesus in Colossians as being "before all things" (1:17), Bell insists that Jesus is "bigger than any one religion. He didn’t come to start a new religion, and he continually disrupted whatever conventions or systems or establishments that existed in his day. He will always transcend whatever cages and labels are created to contain and name him, especially the one called ‘Christianity.’" Has Bell expanded the concept of Universalism to include the universal scope of Jesus as well? It sure sounds like it: "Jesus is supracultural. He is present within all cultures, and yet outside of all cultures. He is for all people, and yet he refuses to be co-opted or owned by any one culture." For Bell, Jesus remains the only key to the Kingdom, but a key (often unknowingly) hanging on everyone's keychain: "whatever God is doing in the world to know and redeem and love and restore the world is happening through him [i.e. Jesus]." Put differently: “he, and he alone is saving everybody.”


I want to close by diffusing any rigidity implied by the aforementioned categorization. From what we know of Bell, theological descriptors are of less importance than theological discussion. I don't think Bell is trying to box himself into a particular school of thought as much as he is attempting to step back from and gain perspective on such boxes. All the same, it is helpful to have a sense of Bell's own commitments vis-a-vis larger soteriological debates.


It's an exciting time to be a Unitarian Universalist. After all, our denomination's very nomenclature testifies to the relevancy of this media-blitzed theological exchange. How might we respond?


I pray we will:


1) Come to appreciate the unique significance of our own religious heritage. In so doing, we will hopefully reconnect with our history and summon the guidance of our Universalist cloud of witnesses.


2) Recognize the power of Jewish and Christian scriptures. Bell and his critics rely heavily on biblical prooftexting. While I have great reservations about this approach, I also acknowledge that a level of biblical fluency is required for us to compellingly engage ongoing conversation. Besides, as the Rev. David Parke reminds us: "So diverse is Scripture, so apt, so vivid, so profound, so consoling, that those who deny themselves its benefits diminish only themselves."


3) Leverage our denominational track record. One of the most popular critiques leveled against Universalism during its formative years was that the belief promoted moral laxity. If you're guaranteed salvation, why do good? I wager that the last two centuries, while far from spotless, nevertheless testify to the good works accomplished by faith communities gathered in the name of a universally loving God.


4) Speak up for silenced theological voices. How much richer this conversation would be with Ultra-Universalists. And for that matter, with theocentrics (as opposed to Christocentrics). In my opinion, Bell's arguments brush uncomfortably close to hoisting Jesus onto an altar he never claimed. Is Jesus the destination, or is Jesus the direction? Can we imagine a religion that holds true to Love's ultimate triumph without cloaking that Love in specific garb? Might Unitarian Universalism occupy that important religious space?


5) Reimagine Universalism for contemporary Unitarian Universalists. This conversation opens up a pregnant opportunity to take up the theological heavy lifting we have ignored for so long. The late Rev. Forrest Church leaves us with a compelling gesture towards reconceiving Universalism in our time. More must be done. Let's respond to his invitation.  


Please: continue the conversation.

Giving Up

My grandfather recently passed along the aphorism: "Many people want to serve God, but only as advisors." Parisa's sermon this past Sunday exposed the hubris of this popular position, which often takes the shape of our stubborn insistence on things working out exactly the way we envision. Success looks like this. Happiness like that. Everything else amounts to failure. Sound familiar? 

Sohan Qadri: #2076

When we let go of what we think life should look like, we are better able to see what life really is, and find therein an abundance. In Parisa's words: "We look to one another for help in letting go of what we think things should be like in order to let the good, to let God, work through us." The good life has as much to do with receiving gratefully as it does with producing tirelessly. Often, leaning into reality requires more courage and resolve than unceasingly building fantasy.


Last week, Punjabi artist and poet Sohan Singh Barhing, popularly known as Sohan Qadri, passed away. Both his spiritual and artistic temperament typified the "let go, let God" way of being in the world. When asked about his painting technique, Qadri responded: "For me to paint a picture is more of a ritual, it reaches somewhat further than mere painting. It is a way to call forth the powers that are hidden in the emptiness of the canvas...[I]f you don’t feed this canvas with something, then you will never get a picture painted. You are the food, the artist is the food, He must let himself be completely swallowed." For Qadri, the first step towards creation is the destruction of assumed or perceived form. As we read in the Rig Veda: "Break the form and reach the essential."


How, then, do we strike the balance between letting go and giving up? Or perhaps more accurately, what do we need to proximately give up so that we don't ultimately give up, or give in?


Please: continue the conversation.

Suffering

A recent satirical article featured alternative titles for Western literary classics. For example, Plato's "The Trial and Death of Socrates" became: "Athens Kills Its Best Unemployed Wise Ass." I love it.

Plato

When not being rebranded, Plato finds himself being misattributed. Turns out it was Philo of Alexandria, not Plato, who once uttered: "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle." Regardless of its correct author, I wager this sentiment rings true for all of its hearers. It certainly speaks to the moving lay-led service this past Sunday, which showcased personal testimony about the emotional complexity of compassion. Amy Kavadlo probed: how do we extend compassion to the inconsiderate? Joe Ayoub added: what happens when compassion leads us to murder? And Jennifer Mulqueen exhorted listeners to find spaces in their life to openly share and collectively hold their great battles.

American pragmatist philosopher Cornel West writes that the condition of truth is to allow suffering to speak. Just as the jazz musician leans into the minor keys, so too the truth-teller must attend to the great battles that all of us wage deep within.

Others would dispute this claim, however, citing its fetish for the tragic. How often I have encountered the warning: don't release negative energy into the universe. Positive thinking, we're told, can serve as a powerful prescription, even if merely a placebo.

What role does suffering play in your worldview? Please: continue the conversation.

 

Immigrants

Arizona's infamous immigration law is but a symptom of our society's increasingly hostile attitude towards immigrants more generally. While pundits leverage arguments about immigrant groups breaking 'the law,' Parisa reminded us last Sunday of the contradiction built into that defense. How legal was the founding of this country, after all? Are we not heirs to "illegal immigrants"?

In 2009, Glenn Beck described the Pilgrims' march towards "freedom" as follows: "They fled their oppressive government in favor of sailing dangerous waters across a vast, largely unknown ocean in hopes of finding a new land and then not being killed by the American Indians." America celebrates this heroic journey every year during Thanksgiving. Rarely, though, do we stop to consider the Pilgrims of present day: those immigrants fleeing their own oppression in hopes of finding a new land, and a new life.

So how do we as Unitarian Universalists respond? Some lobby government, others supply water to individuals crossing the dusty borderland.

Please: continue the conversation.

Valentine

I always enjoy hearing bad pick-up lines, preferably not in action. And in February they seem to blossom into full absurdity. Some are unapologetically offensive; but some can be rather clever, or at minimum entertaining. Recently, I overheard the following (unsuccessful) attempt: "Excuse me - I seem to have lost my phone number, could I borrow yours?" An instant classic.



This past Sunday, I closed my sermon with an invitation to reconsider what it means to have, or be, a Valentine.

Compassion answers the question, “are we not of interest to each other?” with a bold: Yes. Yes, we are of interest to each other. Yes, our interests are of interest to each other. Compassion is about celebrating the things we love, more than sacrificing for the things we lament. The passion of suffering initiates, what only the passion of devotion can consummate.

This Valentine’s Day, pay attention to...the people who have come alive, and you with them. These are your saints. These are your Saint Valentines. Let them know.

And be warned: with enough compassion, you may soon be canonized by someone you don’t yet know.

You can watch the full sermon here.


How would you describe your Valentine? Please: continue the conversation.

Inspiring our Aspiring

In her annual "sermon on the amount" this past Sunday, Parisa called on all of us to bring our full presence, full passion and full commitment to First Parish. This church community would be little more than a coffee shop with weekly open-mic sessions were it not for the faithful witness, grand vision and deep contribution that members, friends and visitors bring to this historic place. 


Where two or three are gathered, there the Spirit descends; where two or three hundred are aligned in common purpose, there the Spirit takes flight.

I am reminded of one of my favorite lines from Goethe's poem "Divinity":

Let him be a model

For those beings whom he surmises.

In other words: let us be an inspiration for our greatest aspiration. Let us not only stretch ourselves into the serving souls we want to become. Let us stretch ourselves into their role models. Let us outgrow our own growth.

Can we do it? What is holding us back?

Please: continue the conversation.

Message

In the preface to their mid-seventeenth century catechism, the Polish Unitarians stated humbly: “We do not think that we ought to be ashamed if in some respect our church improves.” This openness to self-transformation and self-transcendence represents one of the greatest strengths of our Living Faith, in my opinion.

Theodore Parker

This past Sunday, I leaned heavily into its spirit, taking up Theodore Parker's infamous distinction between the transient and the permanent. While Parker's Truth (Jesus' Great Commandment) has since withered in Unitarian Universalist circles, his Technique persists. Unitarian Universalism's method of enlightened individualism ("the oracle God places in the breast"), I argued, has become its message. And while this method saves us, we require something more: a message that saves us from ourselves. Else, as Eric Hoffer warns, we risk devolving into “homeless hitchhiker[s] on the highways of the world thumbing a ride on any eternal cause that rolls by.”

Our message, as rooted in the testimonies of our ancestors, is on my view this: 

We are all of One Source and destined to One Salvation.

You can listen to the sermon in full here.

I am curious to hear your response to my polemics. Would you agree that our method has become our message? If so, are we in need of a supplemental message? How would you describe our message?

Please continue the conversation.

Bullying

I was sorry to miss the Youth Service today (on account of preaching responsibilities elsewhere). That being said, I had the pleasure of helping our youth practice last week - the "dress rehearsal," of sorts. It was especially powerful to watch them pledge their eyes, ears and hearts to curtailing teenage harassment. They saw themselves as anchors amidst the storms of peer pressure. They felt called to stand up, and speak out, for what they know, deeply, is right.


Much has been made of school bullying in recent months. Lawmakers, policy analysts and concerned citizens have offered a wide array of suggestions for how to curtail provocation and victimization. From closely monitoring a child's online activity to empowering teachers as safe allies, most every "solution" sounds reasonable, and seems welcomed. Heidi Saxton lists nine helpful tips for parents of bullied children.


All the same, I cannot help but wonder: is the ageless phenomenon of bullying as much a spiritual issue as it is a policy issue? Can we ever fully control a bully's actions without ministering to the emotional insecurities that prompt such behavior?


If, indeed, bullying has as much to do with how our children are, as how our children act, then what is our role as people of faith?


Please: continue the conversation.

Radical Welcome

This past Sunday, Jamez challenged our community to live into and up to its pledge of radical welcome. To open our doors to others, exactly as and who they are, is to open our hearts to difference and to open ourselves to change. We will be transformed in the very act of offering others religious transformation.


This topic sparked for me two primary questions: that of serving and that of deserving.


Our first question is this: whom does our radical welcome serve? Is our increased attentiveness to inclusivity a function of our desire to grow, or our desire to grow others? Truly, is this effort about making ourselves feel better, or about reaching out to our neighbors so that we may all make better lives?


Our second question is this: do we deserve to extend a radical welcome? We often take it for granted that others would join our ranks if only we would welcome them properly. But are we deserving of their presence? Does our faith have something to offer this world that other traditions do not? If we cannot answer this challenge in the affirmative with honesty and confidence, perhaps we would do well to focus on deepening our message alongside merely disseminating it.


Please: continue the conversation.

Tucson Tragedy

It is hard to know where to start.


Silence opens the way. Then we plant our prayers, nursing them with the sacred waters of fear and hope. I fear for lives brushing the threshold of death. I hope for families reunited with those they love - if not in body, in holy memory.


In the aftermath, pundits refuse to fly their partisan flags at half-staff. The Left and Right engage in tireless guilt-slinging, uninterruptedly showcased on 24-hour news networks. The alleged shooter is either a Tea Party archetype or a crazed loner. The media influence on his actions was either implicitly obvious or empirically unverifiable. Oh, and guns either always kill people or never do ("individuals do").


I miss the voice, and soul, of our faith. UUA President Peter Morales did issue a statement, calling citizens to help "create a culture where violence has no place." But I think Unitarian Universalism has something deeper to add:


1) The alleged shooter may not be like us, but we are capable of being like him. Our theology teaches that we are all of One Source, after all, and as such we share the human proclivity to fear, anger and violence. We would do well to look inward and take inventory.


2) Morality trumps causality. Whether or not the alleged shooter was directly influenced by extremist broadcasting is of secondary importance. We must insist, above all, that this type of discourse is morally wrong. And that we are implicit in its consumption, whether through Fox News or MSNBC. Our theology counsels that the human story is shared, fated all to One Destination. We would do well to participate in a political dialogue that reflects our salvation.


3) Guns are unity-cleaving tools. Our faith weaves us out of unity and delivers us back into unity. To take a life is to violently unravel a thread, defacing the underlying fabric. We would do well to advocate for both laws and behavior that promote and protect this inherent unity.


How does your Unitarian Universalist faith call you to respond?


Please: continue the conversation.

Heretics

Do we pride ourselves on being heretics?

Michael Servetus

Historian Rev. Mark Harris opens his pamphlet on Unitarian Universalist history with the proud assertion: "Unitarians and Universalists have always been heretics." How 19th century Unitarian visionary Joseph Priestley would have balked! Far from embracing unorthodoxy, most early Unitarians sought to demonstrate, through rigorous historical and scriptural proof, the very orthodoxy of the Unitarian position, often tracing it back to the earliest Church Fathers. So too of many Universalists, who would cite, among others, the Pauline insistence that "For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive."


Today, though, heresy is definitely "in." As Rev. Alison Wohler exhorts: "We remain heretics for yet a while longer, and I say, Blessings on us all." It's hip, admittedly, to go against the religious grain, to swim spiritually upstream. But, as Harris also advises, "we are heretics because we want to choose our faith, not because we desire to be rebellious. Heresy in Greek means choice."


I am reminded of the adage: "Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely." The freedom of choice can be as dangerous as it is emancipatory.


This past Sunday, Robin cautioned against protesting our way entirely out of Christianity, thereby losing our seat at the table and with it: our influence, our identity, our memory. One cannot be a heretic, she argued, without a tradition to push up against, or within which to "choose." And religious dilettantism doesn't count.


Ironically, hers has since become the heretical position within Unitarian Universalism writ large.


I invite your thoughts: do we need more Unitarian Universalist "heretics" choosing to reclaim our Christian heritage and its accompanying symbols, aesthetics and theological richness? What do we lose as a tradition when we protest our way out of Christianity altogether? Or, is this intentional "historical amnesia" a necessary strategy for growing in a new direction?


Either way, let us "choose wisely."


Please: continue the conversation.