Filed under: Adult Enrichment and Group Meetings, Family Ministry, Inspiration, Reflections | Tags: agnostic prayer, faith and growth, family prayer, gratitude prayer, non-theistic prayer, prayer, religious education in the home
A friend based this structure on workshops by the Rev. John Westerhoff. Try this format all by yourself, with kids in the family for a nightly ritual, or in a group of church friends.
You can do it in writing, or just sit in silence for a few minutes.
Go around and have one person at a time read all their answers. Or go around the circle several times, just answering one of the questions at a time until everyone has completed that round.
Wow! I’m grateful for…
I’m amazed by…
I’m humbled by…
I give thanks for…
Oops! I’m sorry I…
I messed up…
I regret…
Gimme! I need…
I want…
I long for…
I want to align myself with…
I Remember! I am thinking of…
I send love to…
I am remembering what is important and dear…
Amen! So may it be.
Filed under: Books (includes sermons based on books), Family Ministry, Inspiration, Sermon Archives and Excerpts, Trends in Religion | Tags: amyg, Arinna Weisman, conflict, covenant, family therapy, healthy congregations, meditaiton, mindfulness, non-violence, organizational consulting, peace, Peter Steinke, spiritual practice, systems theory
Sunday, March 18m 2012
Unitarian Universalist Society, Sacramento
Hymns: Wake Now, My Senses; Spirit of Life/Fuente de Amor; Blessed Spirit of My Life.
Prayer: by Harry Meserve
Singing the Living Tradition #496
From arrogance, pompousness, and from thinking ourselves more important than we are, may some saving sense of humor liberate us. For allowing ourselves to ridicule the faith of others, may we be forgiven. From making war and calling it peace, special privilege and calling it justice, indifference and calling it tolerance, pollution and calling it progress, may we be cured. From telling ourselves and others that evil is inevitable while good is impossible, may we stand corrected. God of our mixed up, tragic, aspiring, doubting, and insurgent lives, help us to be as good as in our hearts we have always wanted to be. Amen.
Sermon
Sometimes when I read an article about politics on a website, I scroll down and look at the reader comments. Big mistake! The lack of respectful conversation–or any true conversation–stuns me. Many who disagree with the writer or dislike the subject will say unfair things about the people involved or the writer. When their opinion is the opposite of mine, their hateful comments can make my blood boil. If their position is one I agree with, then a cheap shot will embarrass and dishearten me: “Wait, I’m on the same side of the issue, but I can’t bear to be associated with such mean-spirited people.” The back-and-forth attacks really upset me. And bad spelling makes it worse.
Yet I must confess, when I’m reading my email, if I feel impatient, hurt, misunderstood, or angry, I have an urge to fire off a righteous retort or a defensive blast. It’s so easy to vent by hitting the send button, and then regret it later. Of course, the internet didn’t give birth to potshots and hurtful or
hateful words, it only gives them a powerful platform, always at the ready.
We live in an age of anxiety and quick anger. It’s easy to take offense, and then hang on to it. Reactivity and righteousness spill over into all our relationships: family, friends, groups and organizations.
Even though it can be destructive, such behavior is based in our survival instincts. It comes from the ancient part of our brain—the reptilian part. The stimulus for survival takes place in a part of our head where brain activity is automatic. Consider: when a reptile sees another being, it does not ask, “Can I eat it?” or, “Will it eat me?” Its brain just reacts automatically. It does not reflect. From this reptile brain comes our so-called “fight or flight” response. There is no rationalizing, just an impulse. We have impulses of which we are not conscious.
Joseph LeDoux, a neuroscientist at New York University, writes: “Contrary to popular belief, conscious feelings are not required to produce emotional responses. [Our feelings] . . . involve unconscious processing mechanisms.”[i] These are primitive circuits, he says. Through evolution, they have been passed along to all mammals, including us.
Even so, what makes humans different from other animals is our ability to think about the future, assess alternatives, make plans. We can reflect on the consequences of our actions. Unless, of course, the reptile brain leads us to react, without reflecting first.
Yet it’s not always easy to reflect. The part of our brain known as the amygdala “can activate [our] arousal system,” if it senses danger, according to LeDoux. This can affect how our nervous system will process experiences in the future. The body’s responses to pain can affect the thinking parts of the brain. In other words, our mental and physical memory of painful events can lead us to react in fearful ways, even when there is no current threat. Panic disorders come to mind, as does post-traumatic stress. Things that objectively should not seem threatening can stimulate a given fear and generate a “fight or flight” reaction.
Few things annoy me more than to be told I am overreacting! However, I can see that a reaction out of proportion to a perceived harm or threat could be a habit of mine, or at least a habit of my nervous system. We can manage our habits for the better, or we can make habits worse.
Because I work and study in the field of religion, I’ve learned a lot about the damage done to congregations by people and groups who let their reptile brains lead their actions. Peter Steinke is a family therapist, Lutheran pastor, and organizational consultant. He studies and works with churches in painful conflicts, and this keeps him busy. At a workshop I attended some years ago, Steinke said, “Not only is church conflict a growth industry, it is getting meaner and nastier.”[ii] In just a few years, his work with congregations in distress had grown by 200%. In many conflicts, some people can be very mean. They do things to one another or say things about one another in contradiction to their stated religious principles.
But churches are not unique. All kinds of organizations have conflicts, some of them in violation of their stated principles and ethics. In corporations, clubs, charities and schools; in committed couples and in families, humans have disagreements and stress. It is part of being in relationship. What matters is how we manage ourselves in the midst of conflict, and how we settle our differences.
In Steinke’s view, most conflicts have to do with anxiety in the system.
Anxiety, of course, is normal. It is our longtime companion. Steinke said: If you don’t have some anxiety, you’ll never make any changes. Just as the pain felt when you touch a hot stove burner can make you pull your hand away, anxiety can serve you in good ways. For example, the anxiety of loneliness can provoke a person to search for a place of community, for friends, or for a partner. Problems in society can provoke the anxiety of sadness, frustration, or outrage. These feelings may lead a person to get involved in making a difference.
The word anxiety comes from a Latin word which means to strangle or choke. That describes the physical sensation of being in a state of high anxiety. And, just as we don’t get enough air if we’re being choked, if we’re highly anxious we have less ability to give attention to the options we can choose when facing a challenge. Anxiety can cloud our awareness the way muddy water clouds a pond. It can keep us from seeing clearly.
Steinke identified several triggers of anxiety in congregations. These triggers include the issues of theology, authority, music, money, leadership styles, worship styles, and staff changes. Anxiety in church life can be provoked by any change between something old and something new. Fast changes can be disconcerting, yet the slowness of change can be frustrating. Growth can trigger anxiety in churches, but so can numerical decline. Sexuality is a charged issue as well. Imagine all the anxiety in those denominations and churches still unresolved on the status of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender church members or the credentialing of gay ministers.
Issues having to do with property, buildings and space are also triggers for stress in a system. Steinke said this is understandable, for building issues are territory issues. Territory is a matter of survival for all animals, including us. Territory—maybe this is why moving is a big source of stress, as well as kitchen and bathroom renovations.
So it seems, a church is a minefield of human stressors—but so is any relationship of importance. In any setting, anxiety-triggers have to do with our sense belonging and safety, with identity and inclusion. We want to be connected to others in meaningful ways. At the same time, we want to assert our identity and be recognized as individuals. In human evolution, identity and belonging have been matters of protection and survival. Even if we can understand the origins of stress and conflict, this doesn’t make it hurt any less.
In all social institutions, Steinke said, there’s been a trend of conflicts with more secrecy, deceit, lying, and self-righteousness. Some groups not only want to get their way, they want to be seen as right. They not only want to be right, they want to punish the losers. I’ve been here for four years, and I think our congregation shows healthy habits, has good skills to engage in disagreement and to respond well in times of challenge and anxiety.
Yet in the country at large, we find ourselves in another big election year. Self-righteousness is on the rise, perhaps more than ever. On television, radio and the internet, all the shouting and interruptions, the attacks and accusations, appeal to the combativeness of our reptilian brain. Yet even as they excite us, they raise our anxiety. They don’t bring us together, they separate us.
In a family system or in an organizational one, anxiety can spread. It can be contagious. According to Peter Steinke, when a group experiences anxiety, there is “an automatic shift of attention and energy” away from reflection and into action. Under stress we are less clear about all the options available to us. The more a group feels the grip of its anxiety, the less available the group’s values will be for it to draw upon. This is often why people in organizations can commit acts that violate the group’s own ethical values. They do not respond, they react. Sometimes individuals, sometimes whole communities, just react.
However, anxiety is a normal emotion. Sometimes it can help us. The question is not how to repress it, but what to do about it when it emerges. If we recognize anxiety—and respect it—we might keep anxiety from ratcheting up, feeding on itself, tightening its grip.
There are steps we can take, as individuals or by group agreement. For example, I mentioned how tempting it is to put my anxiety into an email. For this reason, I try to avoid having important conversations by email. It’s too easy for my words to be taken in a way I did not intend, and easy for me to take another’s words wrong. If, as happens now and then, I decide I will write an email about an issue of some tension or confusion, I try to write a draft and save it for a day, to sleep on it before sending it. This practice lets me vent my feelings, and it lets me reflect. I may revise an email after sleeping on it. Or I may delete it, and pick up the telephone instead.
Steinke gives the same advice to families having troubles that he does to leaders of churches in conflict. This is to maintain clear boundaries between yourself and others. First, be aware that you need not own another’s anxiety, and need not take responsibility for it. Second, learn to recognize your own feelings of anxiety. Own your anxiety, but not that of others.
One way that families and groups avoid inflaming tensions is by the use of I-statements. For example, “I believe that…” is better than “Everybody agrees…” or “It’s clear for anyone to see that….”
In a stressful conversation or disagreement, Steinke advised, don’t label others or question their motives. Instead, say how you feel, where you are coming from, what your intentions are. Rather than make accusations about another’s motives, one can say, “I feel….” or “My intention is….” Rather than demanding, one can say, “I would like this…” or “I am making a request that….”
Rather than attacking another person for making a demand we don’t like, we can say “I am not able to do that,” or, if necessary, “I am not willing to do that….” The emphasis is on I and me, not on judging or labeling the other. By using I-statements, we assert our own needs and set our limits without raising the stakes by accusing others.
It’s good to remember that we have no control over what other people do or say; we have a choice only about what we do. In case of a verbal attack, it can be tempting to fire back a counter attack. Steinke suggested more “I statements,” such as “I feel as if I’m under attack and I don’t like it. I am not able to respond right now.” Sometimes when I’ve heard hurtful words—about someone else or directed right at me—I’ll say “Ouch!” That’s my I-statement.
Leaders can be lightening rods for anxiety—leaders of a country, or a congregation, or a family. For example, a parent is in a leadership role with children. It takes practice to keep from taking a child’s outburst personally, and to keep from reacting in ways that ratchet up the anxiety. In whatever setting you might provide leadership, it can hurt to be a lightening rod. Yet in moments of anxiety, the most important influence we can have on a group is the choice of our own words and behaviors.
We shouldn’t take responsibility for another’s anxiety, but we should accept our own. We can do this by being aware of our own feelings and experiences. No need to repress feelings. Not helpful to take them out on others. We can recognize our emotions without reacting. This calls for building our skills of self-awareness.
One way to do cultivate awareness is to sit quietly to be with our feelings, or go for a walk. The poet Wallace Stevens wrote: “Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.”
A meditation teacher of mine has compared the practice of mindfulness to waiting for muddy water in a pond to settle. The particles of mud ease to the bottom of the pond, and the water becomes clear. So can it be with our minds. This teacher has practiced mindfulness meditation for decades, yet even her mind can play tricks on her. For such an esteemed person, many of her habitual thoughts and feelings are less than flattering.
She admits that her mind and body go through reactions all the time. Everyone’s mind has its habitual thoughts, she says. Mine does. How about your mind? She says that her habitual thoughts and feelings include boredom, irritation, resentment, grief, and judgment. Funny, I thought those were my habits.
Even when going for a walk, or sitting calmly, watching the breath or eating a meal, her attention wanders. The attention jumps to habitual thoughts, especially those of self-blame or self-criticism. But when she notices the mind doing this, she tries to be kind about it. Rather than judging herself for habitual thinking, she just recognizes it. She nods and smiles and takes a breath.
In fact, she regards her habits of mind as her longtime companions, never to leave her. When irritation, self-blame, arrogance or any other unpleasant thought arises in her mind, she greets it: “Hello, judgmentalism, my old friend.” She does not try to fight it off, she just sees it and feels it.
“Ah, resentment there you are again. Welcome!”
“Ah, craving, here you are. Welcome back!”
“Hello, self-loathing, my old pal. I recognize you. I bow down to you.”
She does not fight the feeling. She allows it a moment in the spotlight, but then she lets it be. She gives it a bit of space in the corner of her awareness, but not the whole room.[iii]
I’ve tried her approach in my own practice—and haven’t often been successful. Yet by this stage in life, I am unlikely to discard all of my stubborn mental habits. Rather than despair, I’ll try to see my habitual thoughts and reactions as my longtime companions. They’re along for the journey, but not in charge of it.
Whatever feelings might arise, they are merely our companions; they need not be our drivers. Perhaps we can try to put this idea into practice. When anxiety that comes up—notice it, look at it, even smile at it. Take a breath.
It’s not necessary to do the first thing that any impulse tells us to do. Our anxiety may not have all the truth about a situation we’re in. Especially if it’s hot or strong, our anxiety may need us to take it for a walk around the lake.
Perhaps the practice of awareness is a way to peace—within ourselves, in our communities, in the world. We can aware of what we’re feeling. We can own our feelings and recognize the feelings of others. We can practice patience.
Let us keep a little place for the reptile in our heads. Let us give it good care. But a reptile shouldn’t run our lives. With courage and kindness, let us accept our emotional experiences, and notice our habits of mind. With courage and kindness, let us practice the ways of peace. May it be so. Amen, and blessed be.
[i] “Emotion Circuits in the Brain.” Joseph E. LeDoux. Annual Review of Neuroscience. 23:155–184 (2000). See http://www.annualreviews.org/doi/abs/10.1146/annurev.neuro.23.1.155?prevSearch=leDoux&searchHistoryKey=
[ii] Notes from attendance at a workshop and conversation with Peter Steinke, at Grace Lutheran Church, Palo Alto, CA, 2005. See his books at http://www.alban.org/bookdetails.aspx?id=2830. For consultant resources: http://www.healthycongregations.com/
[iii]Remembrances from a dharma talk by Arinna Weisman, at a retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center, Woodacre, CA, 2005. Her book is A Beginner’s Guide to Insight Meditation. Find her blog, videos, etc. at http://arinnaweisman.org/
Filed under: Becoming and Being Part of a UU Congregation, Church Finances and Stewardship, Family Ministry, Inspiration, Rituals, Prayers, Elements of Worship Services, Stewardship & Finances, UU Denomination and Pacific Central District News and Views | Tags: financial commitment, generosity, money in church, pledge drive, pledging, stewardship
Every Sunday in February a member or pledging friend gives a reflection on what this UU congregation means to them and how they think about their commitment of financial support to the congregation.
Today’s was very engaging, and brought Irwin spontaneous applause.
Good Morning.
My name is Irwin and I’ve been attending services here with my wife, Abby, and my daughter, Lily, who turns thirteen in two weeks, for about three years.
“Value.” “Value” is an interesting word. The heiress’ ring is of great value. When Bel-Air offers two-for-one half-gallons of ice cream…that’s a good value. I value my family more than anything else in the world. It describes the expensive, the bargain and the priceless. And in the midst of that stew of definitions, it has another meaning, doesn’t it? Just think of the plural form, add that “s” to get “values” and something else entirely comes to mind.
I’m Jewish and was raised with a Reform congregation here in Sacramento. I learned Hebrew, had my Bar Mitzvah, went to camps and religious school, learned wonderful stories and traditions and celebrated the holidays. Reflecting on that experience, and as I think today about what it means to me to be Jewish, I see it being about my connection to that long, rich, intellectual, artistic and comedic heritage. The values I connect with as a Jew are indivisible from my connection to that heritage.
I also went to a Catholic high school. The Jewish population of my class consisted wholly of me and one other kid—Sam. While there, I had a fantastic theology teacher. I’ll never forget the way he described the essence of Catholicism. Remember the movie from the 70’s – Oh God!? George Burns, embodying God, comes to Earth to pester the John Denver character into spreading the word. Struggling with this unfathomable turn of events, he asks God for proof. George Burns hands him a business card. The card is plain white with small black letters in the center that reads, in simple type, “God.” My teacher loved this because he said it captured faith perfectly. He said not to look for burning bushes, healers or water walkers. That the values of Catholicism come from faith, specifically faith in God.
Fast forward years later and I find myself here, testifying in church on a Sunday morning. Even as I stand here, looking out at all of you, it’s hard for me to believe. But what draws me here each Sunday, and what compelled me to accept the request to testify, is the beauty of the core value of this community: a belief in the goodness in everyone. Like mathematical postulates, which are accepted as being true without proof, and which serve as the foundation of theorems and equations that are used to explain everything from the movement of electrons to the attraction of galaxies, the belief in the goodness in everyone serves as a building block that guides the principles and actions of this community. Hey, if you are going to build a philosophy from a core value, a belief in the goodness in everyone seems like a pretty good choice to me. And I see that here each Sunday, when I talk with the members, when I participate in events. And when my daughter attends Religious Education, or OWL sexuality classes, or MUGS retreats, I know that the people I entrust her with act from a belief in that core value. And with that value as a starting point, and some money, this community will be able to share its beacon of love and justice for the coming year.
In full disclosure, my family and I are not official members of this church. But we strongly support what this community is about and what it offers us so, as friends, we are happy to contribute financially and to make our third annual commitment, this year increasing our commitment. We do this because we value this community: we find it of worth. And it’s a good value: we get so much for our contribution. And that belief in the goodness in everyone? Well, most importantly, we value that value.
Please think about what the value of this community is to you and consider an annual commitment that matches the value you derive.
Thank you.
Filed under: Becoming and Being Part of a UU Congregation, Church Finances and Stewardship, Inspiration | Tags: commitment, generosity, pledge drive, stewardship
by Cathy (long time member, Board member, Interweave member, singer, and our current Treasurer
This is Cathy’s written text, but reportedly she was inspired to say more off the cuff about her support of the church.
In 2001, our friend Mary WillAllen became the Music Director here at UUSS. She told us of the new minister, Doug Kraft, and the welcoming congregation. It sounded like a good match for us and we started attending the service and singing in the church choir.
We became members in 2002. Linda became one of the Lay Ministers and I served as a Worship leader and as board member for the past three years.
We have discovered as we become more involved in church activities, the more we receive in return. We are happy to be a part of a congregation that respects the dignity and worth of all people and is supportive of our relationship.
We are proud to be Fair Share supporters of UUSS.
Filed under: Becoming and Being Part of a UU Congregation, Comparative Religion, Inspiration, Religious Studies: History, Sermon Archives and Excerpts, UU Denomination and Pacific Central District News and Views
January 22, 2012 Sacramento, CA
Hymns: We Are Children of the Earth, Spirit of Life/Fuente de Amor, We Would Be One.
Reading: #444, This House, by Kenneth L. Patton.
Choral Music: Love Is the Spirit of this Church, James Vila Blake & Jason Shelton.
Sermon
Online computer dating sites invite you to identify your faith, as well as listing your occupation, income, hobbies, hair color, height and weight. In the religion category of the sites I have seen, the most commonly used label is not a denomination’s name, and not Christian, Catholic or Protestant. It’s “Spiritual but Not Religious.” Many people say this also in casual conversation–“I’m spiritual but not religious.” There is no authoritative definition of what people mean by this. I have not read of any study or survey. My guess is that they wish to identify as having a spiritual outlook on life, or a spiritual practice, or a relationship with God. Perhaps they feel humility toward life, or an attitude of gratitude for the gifts of life. Maybe it means they like to hike in the mountains, read poetry, sing gospel songs, hear Bach’s Mass in B Minor, or visit old cathedrals—just not when there’s a church service going on.
When people say “I’m not religious,” they may be thinking of dogmas and creeds; rules and commandments; lifeless theologizing; hypocrisy and abuses of power, and preaching that’s dull. And let us not forget religious intolerance, repression and violence. Religions have done terrible things. People have done terrible things, acting in the names of religions.
Living in the fourteenth century, Hafiz was an Islamic poet of the Sufi tradition. He wrote this:
The
Great religions are the
Ships,
Poets the life
Boats.
Every sane person I know has jumped
Overboard.[i]
A friend of mine is retired from the Christian ministry in a Mainline, moderate denomination. He’s a radical environmentalist and a veteran of Civil Rights demonstrations. He’s respectful of other faiths and knowledgeable about them. And he has no patience for the phrase “spiritual but not religious.” To hold this attitude, he says, is to cut yourself off from history, to be rootless, to be unaware of the source of the modes of spirituality that you hasten to claim. It is to risk falling for the newest fads and latest fashions, he says, to see spirituality as a catalogue item instead of a heritage. My friend writes:
[A man tells me] that he attended a Baptist revival once when he was thirteen and didn’t like all the shouting about sin so he never again has had anything to do with Christianity. Well, once I attended a junior high art show when I was thirteen and didn’t like the pictures there, so I never again have looked at art. [He goes on, asking whether he should] stop having anything to do with any college or university because six hundred years ago all their astronomy faculties taught that the sun revolved around the earth, and one hundred years ago all their anthropology faculties taught that blacks were genetically inferior [to whites], and fifty years ago almost all … were segregated. What enlightened person wants to be associated with such institutions?
My friend can recount the bad stories from religious history, as well as the contributions made by religions. He notes that religious traditions can change, evolve, and even improve. Those of us who choose to identify with a faith tradition have a duty to make it better, to reform and revive it. We have a duty to embody the values and virtues our tradition espouses.
American Unitarians of the nineteenth century took on this duty. I’d like to tell you about three of them. In fact, our big three: William Ellery Channing, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Theodore Parker. You could say they were the inventors of “spiritual but not religious.” To them, religion was not a set of creeds and rules to follow, it was your way of life.
The first generation of Unitarian ministers in the United States were liberal Christians in Boston-area Congregationalist churches. Their faith was Bible-based, yet they said we should use our God-given ability to reason when studying Scriptures. To them, “reason was the friend, not the enemy of faith.”[ii] Their leader was William Ellery Channing. You can see a statue of him in Boston’s Public Garden, across from the church he served.
Orthodox Calvinists believed that all human beings were depraved and fallen, and could do nothing to avoid the fire-y fate in hell that awaited all but an elect few. Channing and the liberals said no. They believed that all people are created in the likeness of God. Hence, all could grow toward God’s goodness and perfection, as Jesus had modeled for us. Channing did not want to fight over points of theology with conservative ministers. That was a distraction from teaching religion as a way of life. Yet as the orthodox ministers continued attacking them as heretics, the Unitarians stood up for themselves. Channing led the charge, giving a sermon as the manifesto of Unitarian Christianity in 1819.
Those liberal ministers got organized in 1825. They grew in number and influence. To them, to be religious was to live sincerely and virtuously. To be religious meant examining your own heart–not for evil, but for the goodness that lives there. It meant showing the goodness in your actions, words, and commitments. Those early Unitarians believed every one of us can cultivate our divine potential. The term used for this approach then was “self-culture.” Nowadays people call this “spiritual growth.”
Sitting in the pews of Channing’s church, and nourished by his preaching, was Ralph Waldo Emerson, a young man whose father had been a Unitarian minister. Waldo’s parents had died when he was a child, and he was shaped intellectually and spiritually by his aunt, Mary Moody Emerson. Channing tutored Waldo privately before the young man entered Harvard’s divinity school. For its day, it was a liberal school, as Unitarians had already taken over its faculty. But for Emerson, the divinity school was lifeless.
He entered parish ministry but didn’t enjoy it. After his first wife died of tuberculosis, at age 19, he withdrew from his colleagues. Then he resigned his pulpit. The stated reason was that he did not wish to officiate at the Lord’s Supper, or communion. He saw it to be an empty ritual. But for him the whole church thing was empty and cold.
Emerson began lecturing and writing essays. He was on fire, and brimming with inspiration. Around him gathered an intellectual circle known as the Transcendentalists. Most of these people were Unitarians, or had been. They said it is not necessary to be Christian to be religious. It isn’t necessary to believe in a supernatural deity to be religious. They emphasized the use of reason, but they celebrated personal intuition more. They tossed out the Holy Bible, or tossed out the idea that the Bible was the primary source of religious truth. The primary sources must be your personal experience, your own soul, and the world around you. They said the word of God is too plentiful and fresh to be bound in one book for all time.
Emerson preached not a religion of the church, but “religion of the soul,” in the words of my colleague Jay Deacon. Instead of a remote God, Emerson felt and imagined a Power that connects us all, and which comes from within each of us. He said that in each of us is “the wise silence, the universal beauty, to which every part and particle equally related; the eternal One.”[iii]
In 1838 the graduating divinity school class at Harvard invited Emerson to give the commencement address, and he accepted. To these new ministers, the ex-minister recounted the corruptions of the Christian church over the centuries, and those of their own church. Conventional Unitarians still accepted the New Testament accounts of the miracles of Jesus as true—to them the miracles were evidence that Jesus was a messenger of God. Emerson condemned this as a monstrous idea. Supernatural tricks have nothing to do with miracle. A miracle is a flower blowing in the wind, or the roaring ocean waves.
Emerson said we can’t rely on others to tell us what God is, or who we are. Everyone must get acquainted “first hand” with the Spirit of Life. He urged the students: Have your own experience of God, and be brave enough to tell your congregations about it. Preach a new message, speak your own gospel. Don’t rely on old ways or old words of theologians and preachers, even the ones you admire.
He meant only to challenge the complacency of the students and their professors. According to scholar Gary Dorrien, Emerson meant to light a fire. Instead he caused a “firestorm.” One Harvard professor called his address “the latest form of infidelity.” The scandal of it gave orthodox critics one more weapon with which to attack the Unitarians.
Emerson was not invited back to speak at Harvard for 27 years. Yet he continued to shape the religious life of the Unitarian churches—and of the nation–as “students, and ministers and throngs of laypeople were reading his essays and going to hear his lectures.”[iv]
Sitting in the audience for the Divinity School Address was the new graduate Theodore Parker. In his journal that night, he wrote that Emerson’s “picture of the faults of the church” was “so beautiful, so just, so true.” Parker took from Emerson the call to a wider circle of religious concern, and he took it further. Parker is famous in our history for his radical abolitionism against American slavery and his opposition to the Mexican War and the government’s mistreatment of Native American tribes.[v]
In his day, Parker became infamous after giving an address called “The Transient and Permanent in Christianity.” This was 1840, 11 years after Emerson’s address, and 21 years after Channing’s Unitarian Christianity sermon. Emerson had celebrated Jesus as a spiritual teacher, just not the only spiritual teacher. Parker now said that Jesus was a great soul, to be sure. But what mattered was not Jesus himself, but the lessons he taught, the spiritual and moral principles he embodied. Those principles are timeless. They would be just as good if they had come from a mathematician in Athens as from Jesus of Nazareth.
We need no church, we need no Jesus, to tell us what is good. We know from our intuition and reason what values are true and lasting, Parker said. The rituals and forms of Christianity are transient; they will fall apart. The true spirit will persist. Rebellious words, for Boston in 1840!
Since Channing’s day, conservatives had been calling the Unitarian church “a halfway house to infidelity.” Now, orthodox ministers used Parker’s heresy to embarrass the Unitarians. Under this pressure, many of Parker’s colleagues avoided him, refusing pulpit exchanges with him, some not even speaking to him.[vi]
Consider a Unitarian Universalist congregation as a halfway house now. What’s our program? What do we offer? I think as a halfway house we try to show the way beyond separateness and spiritual isolation, the way to true connection, authentic fellowship, and a sense of belonging. We encourage every person to self-knowledge and self-expression. We strive to offer, and we seek to receive, the courage to find our personal calling and purpose in the world, and the courage to live out that purpose.
Ralph Waldo Emerson compared each human life to a ship starting on a journey. He asked: “Why should each new soul that is launched out of God into Nature be wrecked at the beginning of the voyage by following the charts of its mates instead [of] the compass, the stars, and the continents?”
For Emerson’s time of stale conformity, rigid social rules and unoriginal thinking, it was good advice. It still is good advice. Yet looking at my own life as a journey on the sea, I wonder what I’d be without the wisdom of other people’s experience from their journeys. Where would I be without the friends who taught the stars to me, the mentors who showed me how to use a compass, the travelers who brought news of continents worth exploring. Where would I be without, the sailboat skipper who said, “Here, take the wheel,” and then stood by me as I tried it out? Where and who would I be without them?
I believe the best way to find courage and a sense of connection is by joining with others, joining by our own free will, making our own decision. In community, we practice our values. We find that living by our values can take work. We need support, and the good examples of other good people who come seeking their own purpose and their own sense of connection.
Moral principles and ethical values matter. Yet values must be embodied for them to make a difference in our world. Values need structures and platforms. It is by institutions that values are carried from generation to generation. Such institutions are families, homes and schools; businesses, governments and unions; congregations and voluntary membership associations of all kinds. People do challenge their institutions, call them to account, and reform them. People will even found new institutions to replace the outworn and lifeless ones. Institutions carry values from one generation to the next. For better and for worse, religious institutions also embody values and carry principles forward. Together, here, let us decide to make it for the better. For the better! Amen.
[i] Daniel Ladinsky, The Gift: Poems by Hafiz the Great Sufi Master. New York: Penguin Compass, 1999, p. 177. Quoted and cited by Jay Deacon.
[ii] Gary Dorrien, The Making of American Liberal Theology: Imagining Progressive Religion, 1805-1900. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001, p. 31.
[iii] Jay Deacon, Magnificent Journey: Religion As a Lock on the Past or Engine of Evolution. Westminster, MA: Ground Wave Publishing, 2011, p. 62.
[iv] Deacon, p. 72.
[v] Deacon, p. 65.
[vi] Dorrien, p. 88.
Filed under: Becoming and Being Part of a UU Congregation, Books (includes sermons based on books), Church Finances and Stewardship, Comparative Religion, Graduate Theological school/PSR, Inspiration, Reflections, Stewardship & Finances, Trends in Religion, UU Denomination and Pacific Central District News and Views | Tags: abundance, family feuds, family finances, family issues, generosity, inheritance, money and life, scarcity, stewardship
Hymns:
“Earth Was Given as a Garden,” “Glory, Glory, Hallelujah,” “For the Earth Forever Turning.”
Reading:
Today’s reading comes from an advice column in the newspaper: “Money Manners.” Written by Jeanne Fleming and Leonard Schwarz, it’s in our local paper, and at moneyville.ca. Today’s column (1/8/12) is: “What to do when exchanging gifts with a cheapskate.” This letter won’t rival the epistles of the Apostle Paul, but it is heartfelt. [i]
Dear Jeanne & Leonard:
It happened again this Christmas. Each year my husband and I ask his brother what he and his family of four would like for Christmas, and each year “William” reels off a list of pricey items that end up costing us a couple hundred dollars. In return, he sends us next to nothing — this year, a bargain-basket DVD and some drugstore bubble bath. I can’t stand another year of opening William’s cheap gifts and then getting the credit card bill for the nice things we sent his family. What should we do? By the way, the guy’s not hurting for money. –Nora
Dear Nora:
If you can’t stand playing Santa to William’s Scrooge, stop asking William what’s on his wish list. As it is, you and your husband are putting yourselves in the position of either having to buy the expensive gifts William wants or ignoring his requests. Next year, instead of asking, buy your brother-in-law and his family presents of your choosing, presents you won’t resent having bought when William’s gifts arrive.
Here ends the reading.
Sermon
“Get your finances in order!” says the New Year’s Day headline in the newspaper’s business and money section. The article gives a checklist: reduce debt, watch your spending habits, and get a discipline of saving money. Practical, important help. Yet beneath “getting our finances in order” is everyone’s complicated relationship with money. This is a spiritual issue, and like other spiritual issues it can’t be taken care of by resolutions and checklists alone. It takes practice, patience, and honesty with ourselves.
Nearly every faith tradition has something to say about money, wealth, possessions, resources, and the needs of others. Liberal religious communities affirm the importance of this life, more than a future life. We do not dwell on otherworldly concerns, but on of how we live in the world as it is. As a medium of exchange, money is one way that we connect with the world.
Without giving some attention to our relationship with money, we risk ignoring its power and place in our lives. This is the message of Jacob Needleman, author of Money and the Meaning of Life. We are at risk of confusing money with our self-worth and our sense of possibility. In viewing others, we risk seeing money as a measure of character. In relationships, we risk seeing money—or using it–as a substitute for love or as an expression of our hurt or hostility. We need to pay attention, be honest, have some patience.
Go with me on a visit home, to see relatives back in my home state, two years ago. In the prior year, an aunt has passed away. My uncle—her husband, had died suddenly four decades earlier, when I was about five, the same age as their son. She and my cousin moved far away from us the next year. I hadn’t seen her for years before her death. On this day, I am visiting two cousins and another aunt, in my home town. “Did you get your money?” one of them asks.
I look puzzled. “Didn’t you get the letter from the lawyer?”
“No…?” I say. They tell me all about it.
My late Uncle Roy’s estate included an amount of money for all of his nieces and nephews, to be disbursed if the money remained after his widow would pass away. Now she has. So, every group of children of his brothers and sisters will get $48,000, to be divided among them in equal checks. This means three siblings will share a bequest, getting $16,000 each, and a lucky, only child will get the full $48,000. I express my surprise at this news. They get the letter out for me, and I read it. I look at the list of names. My cousins…my brother… everybody. But not me. “I’m not here,” I say.
“Well, honey, you weren’t born yet!” this aunt says.
“Yes, I was, I say. I am the same age as his own son.” He came into our family by adoption at age three. This boy and I were the youngest of the cousins, both of us with older parents. Surely I was too young for Uncle Roy to decide I was a bad nephew and leave me out of his will on purpose. He just forgot me.
“What are you going to do?” one asks, getting excited and curious.
“Well, I’m not sure. I’ll ask my brother about it. Anyway, it’s only money.” The rest of that visit, we make small talk. But my mind is racing. Let’s see, with my brother, each of us would receive $24,000. But I won’t. I was left out! Did my brother get this letter? He hasn’t said anything since I got here yesterday. Is he hiding this from me? I need to ask him.
The others report to me on a recent phone call from another cousin–the most outwardly accomplished of our generation of the family. In spite of a hefty two-person household income, this successful relative never has any money. This cousin has been in touch with all the others. The demand: Sign the acceptance form and send it to the lawyer soon, so the lawyer will forward the checks. I realize that neither this cousin, nor any others, will feel like including little old me in the calculation to receive some inheritance. The only chance is in my big brother’s hands.
My reaction to this news of a surprise inheritance, a potential inheritance, is like not feeling hungry, and then walking into a dining room with a table of steaming food: suddenly I want some of everything!
I get in the rental car and hit the highway to my brother’s house. We’ve planned a dinner out, just the two of us. I think: I’ll wait and see if he brings it up. No, I need to get it over with.
I worry, because he’s been worried about money, unrealistically so in my opinion. He retired early, but his wife has a great job, their house is paid off and he owns a rental property. However, we’re now in the Great Recession, he has no confidence in the government, and the angry programs on talk radio just add to his anxiety.
Well, I won’t make a big deal out of this, I think. Fights over money can tear a family apart. Before today, I didn’t imagine having any money than my own earnings. I think: If he gives me half, I’ll give most of it away. I’ll make that commitment right now. Yes I will!
In the Bible, in the book of Genesis, the brothers Jacob and Esau fight over their birthright, their inheritance. Esau, as the firstborn son, traditionally has the birthright in the family. Yet, when Esau comes back from a hunting trip empty handed, and very hungry, Jacob offers Esau a bowl of stew from the pot that Jacob has prepared. Esau trades in his future inheritance for the short-term gain of satisfying his appetite, his craving. Later, the younger Jacob impersonates his brother to trick their blind, aged father Isaac into giving the fatherly blessing to him instead of to Esau. In the story, this blessing cannot be taken back or transferred, even after the stealing is exposed. This theft launches a tumultuous future for the Hebrew people and sets a standard of disharmony for the whole human family. The first family feud over inheritance! I don’t want us to end up like those guys. I just want us to share.
I’m in my brother’s kitchen. He’s 12 years older, bigger, and stronger. He’s standing, I’m sitting. “I need to talk to you about something,” I say. I tell him about my discovery today and ask him if he’s received the letter. He says no. “Well, the others have,” I say. “You will.”
I explain the situation, and the humor of being the forgotten one. He doesn’t get it. I avoid asking straight out: Will you give me half of your money? Again I explain: “See, each set of siblings has to share each total amount among themselves. Since there are two of us… , each would get…”
“Oh,” he says. He gets it. He pauses. “Yeah, I’ll give you some of that money… if you’re nice to me.” I want to ask: What do you mean by “SOME”? How big a fraction is that? And: What do you mean by NICE?
As a youth I was not nice to my big brother. Looking back on my childhood, I see I was taking out my rage and frustration on him. I was angry at our parents. One was actively alcoholic. They were distracted parents, unhealthy, older than other kids’ parents, and fragile. I was careful not to be a burden. My big brother was happy, athletic, popular. A safe target for my hostility, and strong enough to take it. And he took a lot of it, from me.
He married a year before finishing college, against our angry father’s wishes. After graduation, he was unemployed. He mowed lawns to make money, and borrowed money from our parents. Dad used this fact as license to make my brother feel bad. Every hundred-dollar loan was an I-told-you-so. On my birthday one year, I got a windfall of cash. Maybe I was mowing lawns by this time as well. In any case, I was feeling flush. Brother came to me and asked for a loan, $100. Understandably, he didn’t want to ask Dad again.
I lent him the money, and confirmed the terms of the loan by mail. At age 11, I really liked using the typewriter, and playing with business documents. He received periodic statements of the debt he owed to me. Then postcards in the mail announcing “Past Due.” I don’t remember if he paid me right away, called me names, cried, or got Mom to make me lay off. It was not a nice way to treat him.
I realize now that in pestering my brother I was trying to make a connection with him—an awkward, hostile, counterproductive, 11-year-old way of connecting. When he moved closer to our home, my brother made money doing small-engine repair. I was his agent, putting ads in the local paper, taking phone calls while he was at work. He paid me a small percentage for this role. I would type up statements for my commission: I took business reply envelopes from our father’s office and used Whiteout to change the name to my own. I’d help him keep track of how much he owed me: $2 here, $3 there.
Now, he doesn’t owe me anything, and there’s a big check waiting for him. He can choose to split it with me or he can, quite legally, choose to keep it all.
Fortunately, my brother, the first-born son, has chosen to ignore my treatment of him, or to grant me forgiveness for it. Will he also grant me a full half his money? He could say he needs to save it for his own two grown children. He does eventually give me a half-share, but seems to drag it out, with two installments in the mail. I don’t send a bill this time.
Money has such pull for us, such power. Of course it does. Society is organized around it; it’s how we interact for the things we need and want and for the talents and work that we have to offer. As a medium of exchange, money simplifies our transactions. Yet because it stands for so much that we need and want and love and fear, money makes life complicated.
Most of us learn our attitudes and habits regarding money from the family culture in which we grow up. Growth and healing from unhelpful attitudes calls for attention, effort, and support. How did an 11-year-old loan shark like me learn a more healthy way with money? Maybe I haven’t! I do have some annoying habits about money, as well as healthier ones. I have my times of avoidance and my frantic moments.
But in many ways, I’ve healed and grown. The support for my growth has come from two sources: my friends and my Unitarian Universalist religious communities. Friends who are generous, no matter their wealth or poverty. Religious communities that remind me of the abundance and goodness of my life.
In a UU community, I am invited to appreciate my blessings, and give thanks. I learn about the needs of the world beyond these walls. I learn about generosity. Over the past 25 years, I’ve learned–from UU ministers and church members–that it’s possible to stretch myself and give, and feel good about it. I can give of my money, talents and time, and feel joy in it, and freedom. I can also feel good about earning money—not only gratitude to have it, but satisfaction that I have something to offer that people like you have chosen to support. Of course, mowing lawns for money can offer that same reward. Moreover, with mowing the results are more certain and visible than in ministry.
But as a fearful young person from a family that fought over money, I didn’t know what it meant, spiritually, to be paid or to pay others, to give or to receive. I didn’t know money from a spiritual perspective. As a boy, I went with my mother to a mainline, moderate Protestant Christian church. I recall they had an annual stewardship campaign, as most churches do. We paid a monthly pledge. But I didn’t hear what stewardship really meant. Back in the 1970s, the church was timid about money and your spiritual life. It was timid about sexuality too, another topic that makes people uncomfortable. Both topics do, even though they are important ones.
As an adult finding Unitarian Universalism, I found a place that looks at serious matters honestly. I learned what stewardship means. What it means to me: taking a good look at what has been handed on to you for your use and your care. Whether it’s the local environment, your neighborhood, your country—it is handed on to you for using, tending, and passing along to
others. Stewardship recognizes that we stand on the shoulders of generations and institutions that existed before we did.
Stewardship recognizes that what we do, how we live, what we give, will affect the lives of others, including those who come after us. We live for a moment in the stream of life, and it flows on. Stewardship is about connectedness and interdependence. It’s about belonging to one another, belonging to the past and the future.
A friend of mine is a Mormon historian. I ask him: “Does everybody there really give away 10 percent of their income to the church?” Yes, he says, most of them do tithe–and they make offerings on top of that. Mormons have the practice of a fast offering, he tells me. (I’ve learned that other traditions practice this a well.) Unless it causes medical problems, they won’t eat for one day a month, and will give away they money they would have spent on food. They give it away so others may eat. He says the idea is that all their bounty comes from God, and to make a tithe or an offering is merely to give some of it back.
As a young adult, I learned from my ministers that there are UUs who have a different idea of God—or the idea that there is no God at all—but who still have a practice of giving. They make a goal of giving away a percentage of their income due to their connection to the community, to people and the earth. From my UU communities, I got the idea to set a target of giving away 10% of my income, and move toward that target over time. I now give about 5% of my yearly income to the congregation and 5% to other organizations that I care about. I didn’t learn to do this from my family. I learned it from people like you.
I’ve read that Peter Singer, the controversial professor of ethics, gives away 20 percent of his income every year to important organizations. He’s an atheist, so he gives not out of the fear of God or for the love of God. He does it because he can, and because his giving can make a big difference in the lives of others.
I am now attending a doctor of ministry program, part time. The seminary is not a UU school, but a progressive, interdenominational seminary. That’s where my share of the money from our uncle’s bequest is now going. This inheritance will cover 2/3 of the cost of the degree, so it helps a lot. I thank my Uncle Roy and my big brother for the money. I love the school, and don’t mind supporting it with my tuition payments. The young, entering ministry students there—in the master’s degree program—give me hope for progressive religion. During the semester, I attend chapel services on Tuesday before lunch. The music is diverse and fun, sermons relevant and helpful. At every service the campus chaplain announces the offering, which goes to a cause chosen by the preacher for that service. I look around and think: Most of the people here are beginning ministry students, living on loans. But I’ve realized that the offering is a lesson for the ministry students. It’s a model about how to ask with grace and honesty, how to show confidence and kindness in asking. The chaplain says people at the school give “out of volition, not coercion.” Free-will, not pressure.
He says: “We ask for your financial support for this work, and for your prayers.” I decide that if they can ask, I can respond, so I participate in the offerings.
Nearly every faith tradition has something to say about money. Not because it’s bad. Not because it’s worthy of worship either. We should not idolize money, nor should we avoid it.
But we can take it seriously. Like most resources, it is limited: like our time, our attention, our talents, our health—it is limited, and important.
However much, or however little, we have of money…how we deal with it is a way to practice and grow in our sense of stewardship. We can practice, and we can strive to gain our money responsibly, receive it with gratitude, lend it or borrow it carefully, spend it thoughtfully, and share it with joy.
Responsible, grateful, careful, thoughtful, joyful. Joyful.
So may it be. Blessed be, and amen.
[i] January 8, 2012. Found at www.moneyville.ca/article/1111131–what-to-do-when-exchanging-gifts-with-a-cheapskate.
Filed under: Becoming and Being Part of a UU Congregation, Comparative Religion, Comparative Religion, Family Ministry, Graduate Theological school/PSR, Inspiration, International, Religious Studies: History, Travels, Trends in Religion, UU Denomination and Pacific Central District News and Views
Appendix II: Partner Church History—UU Church of the Philippines and North America[1]
| Philippine Church Location | Partner Church Relationship | Year |
| Ulay, Negros Occidental | Partnered with UU church in San Mateo, California | 2001 |
| Calapayan, Negros Oriental | Partnered with UU church in Montclair, California | 2007 |
| Caican, Negros Oriental | Partnered with UU church in Honolulu, Hawaii | 2001 |
| Banaybanay, N. Oriental | Partnered with UU church in Appleton, Wisconsin | 2011 |
| Cansayan-Aquino, N. Oriental | Partnered with UU church in Castine, Maine | 2009 |
| Malingin, Negros Occidental | Partnered with UU church San Diego, California | 2007 |
| Doldol, Negros Occidental | Involved with UU women’s group, Annapolis, Maryland | 2006 |
| Nagbinlod, Negros Oriental | Seeking partner; in conversation: Adelaide (Australia) | |
| Nataban, Negros Occidental | Seeking partner; in conversation: Sacramento | |
| Dumaguete City, N. Oriental | Seeking partner | |
| BagongSilang, N. Occidental | Seeking partner | |
| Bicutan, Metro Manila | Seeking partner | |
| Samayao, Negros Oriental | Partnership lapsed in 2007 with Hayward, California | 2001 |
[1] Lee Boeke Burke, UU Partner Church Council, in an email correspondence with author, December 10, 2011.
