Opening Words:
As a people—a people of faith—that say we are committed to justice, compassion, and equity. As a faith that says we are committed to the inherent worth and dignity of all people. As a faith that says we are committed to respect for the interdependent web of all life—we have a critical role to play in this time.
Two things that are absolutely clear. #1—This is no time for a casual commitment to your faith, your community, and your values, and
#2—this is not time to think we are in this alone.
Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray, from her sermon, “No Time for a Casual Faith,”
delivered at the 2018 General Assembly Sunday service
Sermon: “Here We Have Gathered”
It is not uncommon to hear people talk about being “cultural Christians.” They are acknowledging that there is something Christian-ish about them, but don’t mistake them for strong adherents of the faith; these are not what you might call “committed Christians.” The scholar of comparative religion, Winston Smith, was once asked why, after he’d studied the great religions of the world and incorporated into his own life many of the spiritual understandings and practices he’d encountered, why he still referred to himself as a Methodist. He replied, without skipping a beat, “ancestor worship.” He had been born into the Methodist tradition, and he continued to claim it long after it’d had ceased to have any claim on him. (This is true in all religious traditions – there are “cultural” Jews, and Buddhists, and Hindus, and, for that matter, Atheists. People for whom their relationship with the spiritual/religious tradition they claim has little or no claim on them; people who we might say are “casual” in their religious affiliations.)
Leia, our Director of Faith Development, and I once ran a two-day training for staff teams – ordained ministers and the professional religious educators with whom they worked. One of the exercises that we’d borrowed from some place began with participants calling out things that the congregation they served did that they were particularly proud of. “Our monthly food pantry!” one said. “Our collaboration with other faith communities to provide housing for the homeless during the coldest months of the year,” said another. “The work we do to keep the vision of the United Nations alive in the minds of our congregation.” “Our ministry with, for, and by young adults.” Someone said, “Our religious education programming,” with someone else quickly adding, “especially our youth!” “Meaningful worship.” (That came from one of the clergy people present.) “Our covenant groups that bring small groups together in powerful ways.” “Our support of the Movement for Black Lives.” “Having become a Green Sanctuary.” Having become a Welcoming Congregation.” “Our program to bring food to members of the congregation when they are sick.” “Our practice of raising money monthly for non-profits doing meaningful work in our wider community.”
I could go on. They certainly did. They had no problem listing program after program, project after project, one after another, of which they were proud. (The list I just read, by the way, didn’t come from my notes after that weekend: they’re all things we do here that I’m proud of.)
Like I said, this group had no problem coming up with a long list of things the congregations they served were doing that were making a difference in the lives of their members and their wider communities. It was the second part of the exercise that we tough. Participants were asked to read together an item from that list beginning with the words, “We do …” and ending with, “. . . because we’re Unitarian Universalists.”
- We have a monthly food pantry because we’re Unitarian Universalists.
- We collaborate with other faith communities to provide housing for the homeless during the coldest months of the year because we’re Unitarian Universalists.
- We have a ministry with, for, and by young adults because we’re Unitarian Universalists
- We bring food to members of the congregation who are sick because we’re Unitarian Universalists.
- We became a Green Sanctuary and a Welcoming Congregation because we’re Unitarian Universalists
Not everyone had a hard time with this, but a lot of the people there found it really hard to say that they and the congregations they served do the good and important things they do because they are Unitarian Universalists. They would have felt comfortable saying that they did them because they were good people, because they cared about each other and the world, because they were the right things to do. But to say that they did them because of being Unitarian Universalists, because our faith traditions compels them to, because as Unitarian Universalists they felt a mandate to make the world a better place … well … a lot of the folks in that workshop weren’t all that comfortable saying that. And these were religious professionals!
Last week during the annual “Questions & Responses” service I was asked what I found most frustrating about Unitarian Universalism (and, by extension, I’d think, “about Unitarian Universalists”). In addition to the things I mentioned then, I’d add this – the number of people who are, for lack of a better phrase, cultural, or casual, UUs. Oh we’re good-hearted people, just as are most “cultural Christians.” If asked, we will claim our connection to this Unitarian Universalist tradition, yet if we’re being really honest, it has little to no claim on us. It isn’t truly a part of our identity – our core identity. It’s what we do, where we go on Sunday mornings (and a few other times during the week), yet it’s not really who we are.
And I find that frustrating – and more than a little sad, frankly – because our Unitarian Universalist faith is something. Our tradition has a history, and an identity, and a power that is different than the history, identity, and power of other religious traditions or civic groups. Unitarian Universalism is more than, as one joke at our expense puts it, “halfway between the Methodists and the golf course.” Yet when we don’t feel, don’t know ourselves to be part of something larger than ourselves, larger than the congregation we happen to go to when we think there’ll be something interesting to us, it is so easy to become focused on our own congregation and what’s happening there right now. This is true in and about Unitarian Universalist congregations wherever we’ve set up shop, and whatever is, or that we might think isn’t, happening in them at any particular moment. (And how we feel about it.)
When we become so isolated and insular, we cut ourselves off from the power of our association, and I’m not talking about our institutional Association, but the reality that our congregations are associated with one another, connected with one another, can draw strength from and offer support to one another. When we lose sight of the fact that we are part of something larger than merely the group of people who gather at 717 Rugby Road in Charlottesville, or 351 Boylston Street in Boston, or 2952 South Peoria Avenue in Tulsa, or online through the Church of the Larger Ministry, then we all too often also lose sight of the fact that we are a part of an association of several hundred thousand people, over 1,600 congregations, and a faith that, in the United States, can trace its roots back to the founding of the Universalist Church of America in 1793. Our Unitarian Universalist tradition is something, and we lose something when we don’t fully recognize, acknowledge, and own that as a part of who we are. We lose something, and our congregations, and our wider Association loses much when we are just “cultural UUs” or, “casual” about our Unitarian Universalism.
In the sermon I quoted from as our Opening Words, the Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray also said,
“Friends, this is no time to go it alone—we as Unitarian Universalists can’t go it alone. We as individual congregations cannot be in this struggle alone.
[…]
This time we are living in is one of tremendous opportunity and needed change—and the health and strength of our communities and our commitment to our values, to this theology of love and interdependence is crucial”
And she said,
“This is no time for a casual faith. As Unitarian Universalists, we are first and foremost religious communities, religious communities that practice love as our foundation—and we are living in times of heartbreak, violence, struggle, and pain. In this time, we need communities that remind us of our humanity in this very inhumane time.”
And these are very “inhumane” times, indeed.
Hate crimes “more than doubled the day after the 2016 election, with a 92 percent spike in average daily hate crimes in the two weeks following the election compared to the daily average from the beginning of the year. Crimes against Latinos increased by the greatest percent, followed by Muslims and Arabs and African-Americans.” (I quoted that from an article co-authored by the Director of the Center for the Study of Hate & Extremism at California State University San Bernardino.)
These are inhumane times
This past Thursday the Justice Department issued a legal brief arguing that federal civil rights law does not ban discrimination on sexual orientation. In April the administration rewrote a federal rule that had bared discrimination in health care due to “gender identity,” and the State Department reportedly has been, “retroactively revoking passports for transgender women, forcing them to provide proof of their gender.” Some in the EPA have come out and said that under Trump their mission is changing, “from protecting human health and the environment to protecting industry.”
These are inhumane times.
All this, and I haven’t yet mentioned that, according to U.S. District Judge Dana Sabraw, the administration is responsible for “losing several hundred parents” of the more than 2,700 children forcible separated at the U.S. boarder since October of last year, nor that, as a recent article in New York magazine put it, it seems increasingly plausible that “Trump has been a Russian asset since 1987.”
These are inhumane times indeed. Frightening times. Dangerous times. And times that call on us to work, perhaps harder than we’ve ever worked before, to both stem and then reverse the rising tide of hatred. These are times that call on us as Unitarian Universalists to do this work, because as Unitarian Universalists we have something rare and unique to offer. We know more about interfaith collaboration than just about anyone, because every Sunday in every UU sanctuary is something of an interfaith service. We know a lot about working for justice as an expression of our spirituality, because the work of justice has been at the core of our Unitarian Universalist faith and the Unitarian and Universalist faiths which preceded it. We know so much about inclusion, for it has been a principle around which we have rallied since the beginning that every person has inherent worth and dignity.
I’m going to give the last words here to the Rev. Olympia Brown who, among other things, was the first woman ordained in the United States with the full support and backing of a denomination. In a well-known passage from her writings (included in the back of our hymnal at #569) she said,
Stand by this faith. Work for it and sacrifice for it. There is nothing in all the world so important as to be loyal to this faith which has placed before us the loftiest ideals, which has comforted us in sorrow, strengthened us for noble duty and made the world beautiful. Do not demand immediate results but rejoice that we are worthy to be entrusted with this great message, that you are strong enough to work for a great true principle without counting the cost.
Parting Words
For our Parting Words I will once again return to Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray’s GA sermon:
The promise of our faith means liberating ourselves from the systems of dominance and exploitation we all suffer under. The promise of our faith means making compassion a way of being, it means creating a collective sense of both community and responsibility. It holds the vision of a yet to be realized future where our collective survival, our liberation, and a practice of the fullness of our theology is possible.
[…]
Theologically, our Universalism tells us that no one is outside the circle of love. However, we must understand that in our lives, in the context of oppression and discrimination, that the circle has never been drawn wider from the center. It has always grown wider because of the vision, leadership and organizing of people living on the margins who truly understand the limits and costs of oppressive policies—and what liberation means.
This time we are living in is one of tremendous opportunity and needed change—and the health and strength of our communities and our commitment to our values, to this theology of love and interdependence is crucial. I know this work is calling more from us, but I also know that we have been readying for it. And I know it will change us, but I also see that day when we will look back and see the measurable change in our hearts, in our communities, in our faith and in our society that were nurtured by our struggles and our courageous love today.
Now this change won’t come through optimistic hope or casual practice. It will take a greater commitment and generosity to communities that sustain courage, love, hope and resiliency. It will mean new ways of living our faith and reaching out more boldly, lovingly and faithfully with others for justice. And it will take each of us finding our work, our place—where our gifts help call something new—something life giving—into this world.
Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray
Benediction
Instead of our usual benediction, this morning I offer the words with which Susan concluded her sermon:
May the spiritual community that we practice strengthen all of our hearts, may it give us courage, may we not be silent or shrink back from the demands of love. May we hold one another in love as we follow new pathways of joy, of community, of change, of risk and of joy. And may we all be held the practice of agape love that leads us to the liberation we all need—until all are free.
Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray
Introduction to the Closing Hymn
These are the words Jason Shelton spoke at the 2017 General Assembly when he premiered the updated lyrics for his beloved song, “Standing on the Side of Love” (now “Answering the Call of Love”). This morning was the first time we sang the new words, so we shared Jason’s introduction:
Sometimes we build a barrier to keep love tightly bound.
Sometimes our words themselves are the barriers.
The metaphors we use for the work of justice matter.
If we are called to be in this work together, then we have to understand when our words become barriers to full participation.
What does love call us to do? For some, it’s standing on the side of love. For some, standing is not an option. And the continued use of that metaphor is a painful reminder of the barriers to full inclusion of people with disabilities in our congregations and at our General Assemblies.
What is my responsibility as an artist when awareness of this pain comes to my consciousness?
I am clear that the SSL metaphor — as I intended it — has nothing to do with the physical act of standing. It’s about aligning ourselves with what love calls us to do. But I am also clear that intent is not the same thing is impact, and the impact of this metaphor has become a barrier for some among us.
Friends, when love calls, it sometimes asks us to let go of our attachments, and maybe even our t-shirts. I’m not sure what to do about those t-shirts, but I do know that love is calling us to a new and deeper awareness, and I can do something about the song that I wrote.
So I ask you to rise not in body, but truly to rise in spirit — mindful of all that might mean for you — and join me in Answering the Call of Love.
