"To Comfort the Afflicted?"

A sermon by Colleen McDonald

delivered at

The Unitarian Universalist Church

Rockford, Illinois

3/5/06

Values can be such inconvenient propositions! Challenges pop up where we least expect them, and often one value conflicts with another...

We like to say that Unitarian Universalism has a long history of advocating for the rights and dignity of gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, and transgender people... [but] there was a time when openly gay ministers would not have been recommended for settlement in UU congregations, and when it would have been understood as appropriate for a congregation to fire a minister if they discovered that he or she was a practicing homosexual. The early efforts of gay and lesbian people to challenge and change these attitudes were initially met with incredulity, hostility, and ridicule. It was only through a process of carefully examining our core values around human sexuality, and comparing them to cultural assumptions, that we began as a movement to recognize the potential integrity of gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender relationships and lifestyles.

The creation of the UUA’s office of GLBT concerns (in 1973) was a hotly debated move; there were people who were incensed that our Association could consider dignifying what they referred to as perversion with this kind of institutional support.

When I contemplate this history, I find little justification for an out of hand condemnation of the organization of UU’s for Polyamory Awareness... Polyamory is the potential for loving more than one person within a given period of time, defining love as a serious, intimate, romantic, stable, affectionate bond which a person has with another person or group of people. Responsible nonmonagomy is another way of saying polyamory, and it is used to distinguish polyamory from cheating...

Looking at a wide range of human history and culture, it is clear that nuclear families and monogamy are not the only relationship structures in which people can be nurtured and find happiness... At the very least, courageous people who man to raise questions about such customs ought to be heard with respect and candor, not dismissed with opprobrium.

Each of us is entitled to formulate our own opinion. Yet part of the function of a faith in freedom, reason, and growing light is to call us from time to time to re-evaluation of conventional wisdom, in the service of greater understanding and larger truth. I should be sorry to think that we had reached some culturally prescribed limit to that possibility in our Association.

Preface: Last fall I wrote a leader criticizing an advertisement for a play at one of our local theaters. The director’s response gave me some food for thought and the idea for this morning’s sermon. Here is an excerpt from his letter:

“Religion and theater are concerned with the same thing, I think-- finding the truth. I spend... countless hours... trying to insure that the product we put on stage is in line with my exacting sense of reality and truth...

Religion and theater are also centered on conflict... You deal with fighting the darkness with light, fighting evil with good, and fighting lies with truth... Conflict requires something to be wrong between people, and that ‘something wrong’ is usually caused by someone being wrong...

Marketing, unlike religion and drama, is not concerned with whole truths, but with giving the viewer a ‘snapshot’ of the whole... In theater we approach marketing in a way that is diametrically different from the way most religion is marketed. Church marketing doesn’t usually speak of conflict but of the peace and joy to be found after the fight for faith. It sells resolution. People come to you for resolution, not to seek more conflict.”

“You know what I hate to hear?” Charlie Brown says to Violet in an old Peanuts cartoon strip. “I hate to hear someone say, ‘Go on home!’ That really gets to me.” “The one that gets me,” replies Violet, “is ‘You’re too young!’ That just infuriates me!” Finally, Snoopy the dog weighs in. “They’re both wrong. The most obnoxious phrase of all is, ‘Here, kitty kitty!’”

We all have our linguistic hot buttons– commonplace expressions that have the same effect on our personal nervous system as fingernails dragging across a blackboard. Unitarian Universalist ministers, for example, tend to cringe whenever we hear a church member telling a newcomer, “Unitarian Universalists can believe anything we want.”

In our 4-week Fireside course for prospective members, Dave and I devote one of the sessions to UU theology. We are a non-creedal church, we explain, but that doesn’t mean that we arrive at our beliefs as casually as we might choose a chocolate mousse, for example, because it’s the item on the dessert cart that we find most appealing. In the Fireside class, we ask participants to begin articulating what they believe at this time, how they determine what is true and right, and why some of their beliefs have changed over time.

We also ask them to complete the sentence: “I would like to believe...” Here are a few responses from the Winter Fireside group: “I would like to believe that all will be well and a loving God presides.” “I would like to believe that people who do good will be rewarded, and those that do evil will be punished.” “I would like to believe that some day I will be reunited with my loved ones who have died.” We would like to believe all kinds of things that would give us peace of mind in an imperfect and unpredictable world-- or that could satisfy our conservative friends and relatives enough to stop praying for us– but wishing doesn’t make it so. If you are looking for a religion that tells you you don’t need to worry about a thing, as long as you [fill in the blank]..., then Unitarian Universalism is not for you.

There are plenty of people who consider Unitarian Universalism to be a rather hard-boiled religion that is of little comfort. But is religion supposed to comfort us...?

I would like to believe that it was feelings of gratitude for the awesome beauty and the goodness of life that led to the first religious impulses long, long, ago; but as I imagine what life characterized by survival of the fittest must have been like for our pre-historic ancestors, it seems to me that fear must have been a significant motivating factor. Human power as measured against wild and dangerous beasts, natural disasters and climatic extremes, and the movements of the solar system must have seemed rather puny indeed. And so, perhaps, our early forebears felt a need to align themselves with a force or forces that could offer them protection and provide for the well-being of their people. But what were they to make of the fact that the prescribed dances, sounds, or rituals didn’t always bring the rain, or save the child? And what did it mean for them to discover that other tribes worshiped altogether different deities? Across time, there have always been people who have put on blinders–and promoted religious conformity-- as a way of preserving their sense of security about the Truth... while others, of a more liberal stripe, have remained open to an increasingly complicated and evolving understanding of truth and thus sacrificed a measure of comfort in their own, or in any, religious perspective.

It is hard for me to understand why anyone would want to believe in a religion that likely doomed them to Hell-- along with just about every other human being-- but the Calvinist preachers of the 18th and 19th century attracted a significant number of converts, especially during the period in American history known as the Great Awakening (or the “Great Nightmare,” as Universalist historian Elmo Robinson has named it). Their goal was hardly to comfort the pioneering settlers of the frontier, the vast majority of whom had fallen away from the church and its authority, but to goad them out of their complacency. A famous image from a sermon of that time comes from Jonathan Edwards’ “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” which compares the human condition to that of a nasty and repulsive spider being dangled over a fire pit.

P.T. Barnum, who would claim a liberal faith in adulthood, had this to say about his religious upbringing: “When I was from ten to fourteen years of age I attended prayer meetings where I could almost feel the burning waves and smell of sulphurous fumes. I remember the shrieks and groans of suffering children and parents and even aged grandparents. I would return to my home and with the utmost sincerity ask God to take me out of the world if He would only save me from hell.”

Noted educator Horace Mann, another of our UU forebears, shared similar memories about his own childhood experience in an orthodox church: “A certain number of souls were to be forever lost... for [God] had sworn... to get eternal glory out of their eternal torment. But perhaps I might not be one of the lost! But my little sister might be, my mother might be, or others whom I loved. And I felt that, if they were in hell, it would make a hell of whatever other part of the universe I might inhabit; for I could never get a glimpse of consolation from the idea that my own nature could be so transformed, and become so like what God’s was said to be, that I could rejoice in their sufferings.”

While the strictest Calvinists asserted that God had pre-ordained damnation for most of the human race, and that there was nothing one could do to change one’s fate, the revivalist preachers offered the faint hope that going to church would give one a ghost of a chance for salvation. Theirs was a faith which suggested that the devout should live in fear; but more liberal thinkers had other ideas.

Like P.T. Barnum and Horace Mann, the Rev. William Ellery Channing recalled being terrified, as a boy, by the dire warnings of a revivalist preacher. One Sunday, as he and his father rode home from church in silence, Channing imagined that his father, too, had taken the sermon to heart and would soon be gathering the family in prayer to prepare for the Day of Judgement, as the preacher had advised. Instead, much to Channing’s amazement, his father began to whistle, and when they got home, calmly opened up his newspaper and otherwise went about his business as usual. “William was not slow to grasp the explanation for his father’s conduct,” writes biographer Arthur Brown. “What he had heard was not true! The sense of relief was gratifying; but it was soon succeeded by a feeling of anger, for he felt he had been imposed upon. He resolved never to be fooled again by... [eloquent] words.”

Years later, Channing-- and other liberal Christians who would shape the identity of early American Unitarianism-- came to believe that the Calvinist view of God and the human condition was immoral and irrational, as well as inconsistent with their scholarly interpretations of the Bible. They argued that the purpose of religion was to inspire the best in human nature and that the divine plan, rather than requiring the damnation of most of the human race, held out the promise of reunion with God, in the next life, for all people; this belief in universal salvation-- the idea that everyone would ultimately join God in heaven-- was, of course, the cornerstone of the other religious movement that constitutes our dual heritage, Universalism.

Universalist minister John Murray’s attitude in the pulpit was “Give them not Hell, but hope.” In the context of widespread fire and brimstone preaching, it is easy to imagine what a relief it must have been to many churchgoers to hear the good news of Unitarian and Universalist theology. The pews of these more liberal churches began filling up, even as there were undoubtedly other worshipers who wanted to believe Channing and Murray but found they could not. Then, as now, liberal theology was comforting to some and alarming to others; in this case, orthodox believers worried that their neighbors with a so-called guaranteed ticket to heaven would lose their incentive for moral behavior. To the contrary, Unitarians and Universalists demonstrated that freedom from fear of the next world enabled them to devote themselves to this world and to the goal of creating heaven on earth. But that shared attitude and purpose did not mean that Unitarianism and Universalism became static, any more than our current Unitarian Universalist Association exists with no growing edges.

Hundreds of years ago, members of one of our oldest New England churches covenanted to “walk together in the truth, known and to be known.” Today, in our statement of UU Principles and Purposes, we speak of the “living tradition” which inspires us to “deepen our understanding and expand our vision.” This attitude that “revelation is not sealed”and that we have the right and the lifelong responsibility to seek truth is more reminiscent of a burr than it is of bedrock, for it suggests that we– as individuals and as a denomination-- will be moving, in our beliefs, rather than setting up camp in one, permanent, spot. “We must not be content with inherited religious forms and doctrines,” writes Unitarian historian Conrad Wright, “or satisfied with a traditional definition of our powers and potentialities. New light may still break forth, and we are not now what we yet may be.”

Unitarian Universalists are called to question, take the answers of the past with a grain of salt, recognize gaps and flaws in our thinking, and keep our eyes, ears, and minds open. And so we live with both the stress and the stimulation that come with embracing doubt, ambivalence, and even crisis in our personal theological search, and valuing controversy, diversity, and debate within our religious Association and faith communities.

Which brings me back to the question of whether religion is supposed to comfort us.

“Church marketing does not usually speak of conflict,” wrote my correspondent last fall, “but of the peace and joy to be found after the fight for faith. It sells resolution. People come to you for resolution, not to seek more conflict.”

Those words motivated me to review our UU headquarters’ most recent advertising materials, which are being offered in connection with the slogan, “Unitarian Universalism: The UnCommon Denomination.” Clicking on to the relevant section of the UUA website, I found ads and pamphlets and bumper stickers which urged their audience to “Imagine a Religion...” “Imagine a Religion... Where People with Different Beliefs Worship as One Faith.” “Imagine a Religion: Where Inspiration Comes From Not One but Many Spiritual Sources.” “Imagine a Religion: For People Who Simply Can't Accept What They've Always Been Asked to Believe.” And, “Imagine a Religion: Where All Are Welcome.” Do these advertisements “sell resolution?”

On the surface, for they suggest that, “If you are looking for a religion where you can be a theological nonconformist, where you don’t have to believe in the Bible or in traditional religion, where you can question authority, where you are accepted for who you are, then your search is over.”

At the same time, the search for truth does not end with finding a religious community-- at least, according to us-- and a newcomer reading between the lines of these words of welcome might be tempted to ask questions like these: How much diversity can a liberal denomination or congregation encompass? Where are the boundaries? What is the essence of UUism that satisfies and connects humanists, theists, New Agers, atheists, pagans, liberal Christians, and so on? How does one build community and establish leadership in a C/church filled with free spirits? What does it mean to welcome everyone– is there anyone who is not welcome in this Church, and if the answer is yes, what is the reasoning?

These questions are, in fact, perennial within our movement-- they are part of the process of truth seeking we engage in as a denomination, as well as as individual members-- and they are likely to stick in our craw for many years to come. Rather than promising us a thornless bed of roses, this is a church home that invites us to get between the sheets of a lumpy mattress.

Perhaps my correspondent from the theater was right when he said that people do not come to our church looking for more conflict. But I think those of us who stay are looking for challenge. Maybe our liberal church is more about “afflicting the comfortable” than it is about “comforting the afflicted.” And yet comfort and “affliction,” or comfort and challenge, are two sides of the same coin, and they can’t always be separated.

Take declaration number one in our statement of UU Principles and Purposes: We covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person. This affirmation is comforting when it applies to me-- when it gives me the security of knowing I am valued and accepted as I am; and yet it is challenging when it becomes a standard for my relationships with others, particularly those who have hurt me, who push my buttons, or who violate a significant boundary-- like the spouse who has cheated on me, the politician whose views and decisions I can’t stomach, or the Sunday morning visitor on parole for a sex crime who says he’s interested in a church like ours.

Principle number one is closely related to our self-identity as a church that welcomes everyone-- a stance that is also complex in its implications, for promoting oneself as a “big tent” has a way of attracting people who push the envelope.

The diversity within our movement can be seen most vividly at the UU General Assembly, our annual meeting which brings together ministers and lay delegates from our congregations around the country and representatives from affiliated groups of the UUA. If you have never encountered a UU youth who has blue hair and a mohawk, a minister who is transgendered, or a card-carrying member of the Hemlock Society, you can meet up with one at GA.

I’ll never forget the year at GA when I double checked the sign on the door to the bathroom I was about to enter, after spotting two individuals with facial hair, coming out. They were “bearded lesbians,” someone told me later-- a description that might not have been accurate-- but I had never heard of such a thing. At the last couple of General Assemblies, delegates have been surprised by the presence of an advocacy group called “Unitarian Universalists for Polyamory Awareness,” polyamory defined as “the practice of loving or relating intimately to more than one person at a time with honesty and integrity.” In the words of their Mission Statement, “UUPA advocates for any form of relationship or family structure-- whether monogamous or multi-partner-- which is characterized by free and responsible choice, mutual consent of all involved, and sincere adherence to personal philosophical values.” There are some people in our movement who think that acceptance of polyamorous relationships is a logical progression in our championing of civil rights for so-called “sexual minorities.” And there are others who fear that this issue is so far out it will turn off prospective members, weaken our credibility and our denomination’s influence in the public arena, and jeopardize the gains made in legalizing civil unions for gay and lesbian couples.

“Each of us is entitled to formulate our own opinion,” writes Kendyl Gibbons. “Yet part of the function of a faith in freedom, reason, and growing light is to call us from time to time to re-evaluation of conventional wisdom, in the service of greater understanding and larger truth. I should be sorry to think that we had reached some culturally prescribed limit to that possibility in our Association.” UU’s for Polyamory Awareness may or may not succeed in getting our churches and our denomination to embrace their cause. But UU congregations and the UUA will undoubtedly take on many more hot button issues.

Which brings me once more to the question of religion and comfort. I believe religion should comfort as well as challenge us. Because I think that religion is meant, among other things, to bring us back to the good in ourselves when we have done wrong, and to give us hope for the world after all Hell has broken loose. How else can we take on the challenge of living as flawed creatures in an imperfect world and proclaim that life is a blessing?

Unitarian Universalists do not look to religion to solve or resolve the Great Mystery of Life. We contemplate the infinite scheme of things and search for joy, peace, and fulfillment in the midst of our many unanswered and unanswerable questions.

Unitarian Universalism does not offer comfort in the form of taking on all the big questions for you-- of giving out definitive answers meant to satisfy you for a lifetime. But we want you know that we have confidence in your ability to use your own authority and wisdom, and the resources of your church community to guide you in finding the truth by which you can live with integrity. We make no promises that we can get you to paradise in a life hereafter. But we do pledge support and challenge that can enrich your life in the here and now and help you make this world a better place. We do not give you carte blanche to believe anything you want; rather, we ask you to test and refine your ideas, beliefs, and conclusions through education, reasoning, and experience, and we expect you to exercise responsibility in exchange for the privilege of enjoying freedom.

Imagine a church where you will be pushed beyond your comfort zone, and where you will be challenged not matter how mature or educated, accomplished, or self-actualized you become.

If that’s the kind of church you want to be a part of, then, friends, you are in the right place.