Call To Worship

Be ours a religion which,

like sunshine, goes everywhere;

its temple, all space;

its shrine, the good heart;

its creed, all truth;

its ritual, works of love;

its profession of faith, divine living

                                    Theodore Parker  #683

Reading

Jacob was left alone and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.  When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.  Then [the man] said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.”  But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”                                                                                                                               Genesis 32: 24-26

Reading

So [this morning], when we [were] all singing “Amazing Grace,” and we got to that bizarre moment in the first verse where our Unitarian Universalist hymnbook slaps down an asterisk and a choice, what did you do?  Which did you choose to sing: “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me” or “. . . . that saved a soul like me”?

It probably depends on how you are feeling [this morning] . . . , how particularly wretched or soulful.  I know of no other hymnal in print that virtually stops the singing in mid-measure to poll the congregation, to call for a theological debate within the mind and heart of every singer.  And right there, quickly, because the [organist] isn’t going to wait for you, the congregation isn’t going to wait for you, Sunday rolling on its way to Monday isn’t going to wait for you, you have to stake your claim, make your mark, testify—all the while wondering if the person singing next to you will take offense if you confess at the top of your voice your own wretchedness and even our common condition as  a  fallen, faulty species.  Or will your neighbor be annoyed, or maybe shocked, if you stand there warbling on about what a pleasant soul you are, what a nice, well-rounded, fully individuated, sin-free, guilt-free humanist soul?  There [we] stand, frozen in time, and the music plays on while [we all] hastily cobble a theology.

We sing our song in different keys and cadences.  We are on our own to make a faith out of nothing, which is to say, [to make a faith] out of everything we have.  That is daunting, lonely work, demanding and relentless work, the work of a lifetime, and I suspect it is the very scope of it that keeps our tiny movement small.  Not everyone wants to stop singing in the middle of a song and consider once again and all alone the nature of the human soul and God, infinity without and infinity within.

It’s a lot to ask of people on a Sunday morning.

Victoria Safford, Walking Toward Morning, “What Do You Think You Are?” pg 17-18

Sermon

“Each of us tells ourselves some kind of story about who we are and what our life is about,” writes Buddhist teacher and author Sharon Salzberg in her new book, Faith.

 “How we interpret our own experiences gives rise to the narratives to which we dedicate our lives,” she continues.  “Some stories weave the fragments of our experience into a greater whole, in a way that reveals relationship and connection.  Other stories lock us into the fragments, leaving us nowhere to turn.”

Faith, Sharon Salzberg, pg 1

What is your story? 

How successfully have you woven together the many fragments that make up your life?  In what ways are you, are we, still stuck in the fragments of some experiences?

What does this story tell about your life, your journey of faith, cobbled together over many years?

As Victoria reminds us in this morning’s reading:

“We are on our own to make a faith out of nothing, which is to say, [to make a faith] out of everything we have.”

Cobbling a theology is a lot to ask of people on a Sunday morning, but ask it we do, and ask it we must, if we are going to survive and to thrive as individuals, as a church, as a people of faith.  But building a theology is not only a Sunday morning activity, but one we must be engaged in throughout our lives.

Now, coming up with a theology, some idea of what we believe, what we have faith in, what we know to be of ultimate concern and meaning can be difficult in this Unitarian Universalist religious tradition that imposes on us no statement of creed. 

If this were a creedal faith, I suppose we could always point to the creed when asked what we believe and say, “There it is, in black and white. And, if I don’t believe all of it, I can at least say it, and no-one will question me further.”

And when we are in crisis, and can barely handle what life is throwing at us, when the going gets tough, it feels good to have something to point to, something to stand on, whether or not we fully believe what we are saying.  Or does it?

It is different here.  Thing aren’t so nice and neat, just as life isn’t so nice and neat.  Not quite so comfortable as having someone tell us what we have to believe.  Not quite so secure as always knowing where we stand.

It may be a little more scary.  It probably takes a lot more work.  And, for me anyway, it opens the door to a deeper experience and understanding of my life and my connections with other people, my experience of wonder and amazement in the world all around me.  And, I wouldn’t pass that up for anything.

When I was at our General Assembly in June, there was a reading given at the Sunday service from L. B. Fisher who wrote in 1921 that “Universalists are often asked to tell where they stand.  The only true answer to this question,” continues Fisher, “is that we do not stand at all, we move. . . “

There may be some truth to that statement, and yet I also find if uncomfortable.  It sounds a little arrogant, as if the writer is avoiding talking about the things that really matter.  We have often been criticized as a religious movement where you can believe anything you want or nothing at all.  I think this is an unfair characterization.

Just as I don’t want to be given a creedal statement and told that this is what I am expected to believe, I also don’t want to be without any belief at all.  I want to stand somewhere, to find some solid ground, while also being open and welcoming of change and challenge and the deepening of my faith.  I want a faith that recognizes the uncertainty of life yet is strong enough to sustain me through difficult and painful times. 

In the introduction to his book, Faith Without Certainty, Paul Rasor describes it this way:  “Religious liberalism often involves a willingness to affirm faith without certainty.  This is not the same thing as faith without conviction.  It reflects the liberal commitment to open-ended inquiry and the realization that truth is not given once for all time.”

Faith Without Certainty, Paul Rasor, pg ix

According to the Buddhist tradition that Sharon Salzberg practices, our journey of faith begins with what she calls “bright faith,” the discovery of some truth, the experience of something new and vibrant, something that brings a spark of divine awareness to a place that may have been clouded with confusion and doubt.

Often the experience of bright faith is preceded by suffering or a major life transition which causes us to go searching for something to explain what has happened, deal with this crisis, or alleviate our suffering. 

Bright faith can be all consuming and needs to be tested and refined.  We will not be able to sustain ourselves through the next crisis if we haven’t taken the time to look deeply within and to discern what it is that has ultimate meaning in our lives, and who and what we are called to become.

Otherwise the danger is that bright faith will turn into blind faith, a faith “associated with unthinking devotion to a teacher or teaching that is mistakenly seen as the fulfillment of the journey of faith rather than an early step.”                                                                                                                                                              Faith, Sharon Salzberg, pg. 30

When I first went to the Unitarian Universalist Society in Northampton, I was in the midst of an emotional crisis.  The minister, Victoria Safford, also the author of this morning’s reading moved me deeply with her words and her caring ministry.  I idolized her. 

Then one day, I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but one day I realized that she wasn’t perfect, that she was human, and that she made mistakes like the rest of us.  I had to wrestle with that and either withdraw, or claim Unitarian Universalism more deeply for myself.

In the biblical story of Jacob, all of the translations that I have read tell us that Jacob is wrestling with some unknown man.  The legend that has grown up around this story over several millennia tells us that Jacob is wrestling with an angel, wrestling with some entity that is not quite human that may be a dream or a nightmare, that is very real and tangible while also being as mysterious as a shadow.  In religious iconography angelic beings are part of the divine family and they can be our closest companions as well as our greatest dangers.

Like Jacob we also wrestle, with our angels, with our demons, with our hopes and desires, with our values and ideals.  And let me tell you, our desires and ideals are not often the same.

There is a place of desire within each of us, a shadow side that can work against our best interest and the greater good.  This is perhaps the place of wretchedness which conflicts with our more soulful selves.

We wrestle because we must wrestle, because not to wrestle will leave our lives superficial and meaningless, always afraid of anything that will disturb the fragile equilibrium we create when we keep things at bay.

And in this wrestling, if we do not demand a blessing, do not stake our claim, assert our rightful inheritance in the human family, if we do not ask ourselves and each other for some promise, some peaceful coexistence of the different forces that make up our being, or our community, we will be lost, or at least, unable to live with complexity and find meaning.

Without a blessing, without some resolution that honors and affirms us we succumb to the warring factions within and around us, and wrestling becomes the answer rather than being a step on the journey.

This wrestling is the exploration of our faith, is the place where we translate our life experiences into value and meaning.  The essence of our faith “lies in trusting ourselves to discover the deepest truths on which we can rely.”                                                                                                                                                                                Faith, Sharon Salzberg, pg. xiii

“This faith,” according to Salzberg, “is not a commodity we either have or don’t have—it is an inner quality that unfolds as we learn to trust our own deepest experience.”                                                                                                                Faith, Sharon Salzberg, pg. xiv

Our wrestling, our exploration will yield “abiding faith,” a faith that “does not depend on borrowed concepts.  Rather, it is the magnetic force of a bone-deep, lived understanding, one that draws us to realize our ideals, walk our talk, and act in accord with what we know to be true.”                                                  Faith, Sharon Salzberg, pg. 153

Once we come to an understanding of what has meaning and value, we cannot help but act on those beliefs.  Abiding faith is one in which we can say Yes to life and move beyond fear, cynicism, and despair.

One other questions I often ask myself is “Can Unitarian Universalism, support us in our quest, our exploration, our wrestling?  Can this reigious tradition help us to examine what we believe and go deeper and wider in this journey of faith?

I want the answer to be, Yes!

So, I invite you to explore with me some of the “Big Questions” in our lives, questions that include our thoughts about human nature, ultimate reality or God, ethics, and how we make meaning in our lives.  I want to talk with you about evil and sin, truth and salvation, what happens when we die, and the meaning of community. 

The vehicle we will use for this exploration is an adult education curriculum called “Building Your Own Theology.”  This work of exploring our personal theology will be coupled with the exploration of our Unitarian Universalist principles one Sunday per month that I spoke of last week.

Building Your Own Theology will ground us in our faith helping us to discern what it is that we believe at this moment in time and the exploration of the Principles will help move us beyond ourselves into the larger context of our lives and the life of this community.

When I sing Amazing Grace, I don’t sing either the words wretch or soul.  I think it’s important to acknowledge that I am not a perfect being and that grace has a redemptive quality in my life.  But the word wretch seems too far beyond how I see myself.  Soul just doesn’t work for me either.  I sing, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saves and sets me free.”

Victoria Safford reminds us that “We sing our song in different keys and cadences.”  When we have the opportunity to share those songs with each other we build a beautiful chorus, each singing our own part, weaving together the fabric of our voices in the vibrant tapestry of our shared faith.

May it Always be So

Amen and Blessed Be