And Yet ©

Sermon Preached Sept 11, 2022

Susan A Moran

Religion does not have a good name.  Especially not on a day like today.  For those of you who lost someone on 9/11, I am particularly sorry.  It is terrible to have the loss be so public when the ordeal of grief is so private.  But even if we survived without losing a loved one, all of us lost something on that day.  Our confidence in our country, perhaps, our innocence about the ways of the world, our trust. Some of us stopped believing in G-d.  Some of us stopped respecting religion of any sort.

And yet.

We are here despite our failings. We know the positive force religion can be because we live ours.  We have failed of course, but every day, and every week, every month and every year, we aim for better.

We have cause to celebrate this morning—perhaps even boast–because we offer what most other religions cannot.

Freedom of the mind.  Freedom of the heart.  Freedom of the Spirit.

The congregation of the free spirit is generous and inclusive, accepting and inviting– a refreshment for thirsty spirits.  Our faith is a saving grace and blessing upon this world. We promote peace and justice, individual agency over the body, mind and spirit.  We believe that prophecy is still open; wisdom did not stop with the bible’s completion. Or with Martin Luther, or Martin Luther King.

We are not a grim lot.  Typically optimistic about the future, liberal in our policies and progressive in our values.  We laugh a lot, because life is hard, and why not ease our burdens?

We cannot begin to imagine how rare our ways are.

Perhaps we are not a religion at all, in that we have no creed, no single text, no requirements of obedience, no over-arching myth.

And yet.

We are called a religion and I submit that ours is as significant and more necessary in this day and this age than any other in the world. Especially now.  If nothing else, the pandemic showed us our interconnections and interdependencies.  We are all a bit more fragile, having witnessed how delicate the web of creation has become.  But we are still here.

That Unitarians and Universalists have survived at all is something of a miracle. (We have never been the popular kids.)

Yesterday we had a wonderful Celebration of Life for one of our beloved member’s longtime partner.  I was standing near the entrance in the vestry when I noticed a gentleman, quite immobilized.  I asked him if he was alright and he said, “This is the first time I have been anywhere but a Catholic church (slight pause);

I’m terrified.”

I wondered what I could say to make him comfortable. What a brave act for him to come.  Imagine what he’s been hearing. And not just this year. Later in the service, the deceased’s son in law told a story and was absolutely horrified when the word hell, escaped from his mouth.  He stuttered out a “sorry” looking right at me. (Inside my head I laughed thinking of the words I’ve uttered from our pulpit.)

People have no idea what goes on here.

Our building may look like a typical Christian church. But we are not a typical Christian church.  Even when we could call ourselves Christian,   (which we cannot anymore) we were different.

Unitarian Universalism traces its roots to the biblical traditions of Judaism and Christianity. “The idea of “Unitarianism” that God is one being,” universalism” that God will save all humanity, can be found in the Scriptures of ancient Judaism. For millennia, Jews have declared daily that the Lord is one and cherished the hope that “all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” These beliefs were part of the rich diversity of early Christianity.” (Dan McKannan, from Our Roots, chapter in the UU Guidebook, edited by Peter Morales, p. 77)

In a book on the history of Unitarian Universalism, David Bumbaugh reminds us that after Jesus died and for many years after, “there was no central authority, no commonly accepted scripture, no commonly practiced liturgy, and no orthodox theology.”  (A Narrative History of Unitarian Universalism, by David Bumbaugh, p. 7)

Indeed, the earliest Jesus movement encompasses a diversity of opinions, practices, and belief.…

One of the main theological debates of this period was over the identity of Jesus. On the one hand there was Arius, who affirmed that Jesus was more than human, but denied that “he was equal to or coexisting with God.” (ibid p. 7)

Then there was Athanasius who insisted that Jesus was coequal with God. There were other ideas about Jesus along with these two, but at the Council of Nicea in 325, the Arians lost the debate; some consider Arius the Godfather of Unitarians.

As Bumbaugh writes, this [decision to elevate Jesus to Godhood] “had the effect of shifting the center of Christianity from

an ethical to a credal religion, concerned less with character than with correctness of belief.” (p. 8)   Christianity could have been a religion based on what Jesus taught, what Jesus did, how Jesus handled the authorities. Instead, Christianity became a religion about the divinity of Jesus.  And Christians thus became a lot less concerned with the teachings of Jesus, and his ethical requirements–because he is, after all, a God, and we are merely human.

Our religion has always denied this.  We may not agree with everything Jesus says; for some of us, he isn’t even important, but we have never shied away from aspiring to ethical living.

Our rebellion against Jesus as God naturally extended to a different view of humanity itself.

“In the book of Common prayer there is the general confession which states: we have done those things we ought not to have done and left undone those things that we ought to have done.“  This is a large part of the truth, and you have heard me sometimes complain that we don’t spend enough time on our flaws, our faults, our evil doings.  But we are not just sinners. A Powell Davies wrote, the confession contains “not all of the truth.… And the final clause of that confession, which says that “there is no health in us,“ is just a mean-spirited lie. There is health in us and our hope is not in a miracle from the skies, but in the health that is in us.” (“How Sin will be Conquered” by A Powell Davies, from Without Apology, edited by Forrest Church, p. 14)

Our religion celebrates the greatness of humanity while acknowledging just how difficult it is to be a good person.  Our emphasis on the goodness of humanity runs deep.

Our Universalist history also goes back thousands of years.  In the New Testament writings there were murmerings of the universal love of God.  One of the early church fathers, Origen wrote that in the fullness of time, “all creation would be restored to God.”

During the Protestant reformation, one of our forefathers was burned at the stake for his insistence that there was no biblical basis for the Trinity.  It may not be that dangerous to call ourselves UU in 2022, but our heritage is of risktakers, and rebels.

Over the hundreds of years since the Reformation, the Unitarians and the Universalists fought for their right to exist.  As you know, as the years have gone by, our theology has broadened beyond liberal Christianity to include teachings from all of the great religious and wisdom traditions.

What we emphasize is at the core of most of these traditions: we are connected to one another, and the earth; thus we need to take care of our earth and of all Earth’s creatures.

We need to learn to live well together.   We are open to learning from Buddha and Confucious, from Jesus and indigenous wisdom from around the world, Mohammed and the earliest writers of the Vedas. Whether we read religious scripture, or the poets, we know that love is the foundation, love is the answer, love is the solution.

We are not like other religions.  We don’t need you to subscribe to a creed though it would be great if everyone knew the Seven Principles.

We are not like other religions. What brings us together is not a shared theology or ritual like communion, but a need to be called to our best selves, to learn what the sages in all times and places have taught about good living.  We need to be in the midst of an encouraging and supportive community.

We come here because we need to put our belief in love and connection into action.  Sometimes that action looks like talking at coffee hour to the newcomer standing alone. Sometimes it looks like making sandwiches for the Action Homeless shelter.  Sometimes it looks like a contentious meeting.  Don’t be frightened! We practice democracy in this religion.  We trust one another enough to be honest and direct.  We know we all walk or ride down the same dusty rutted road of life, we may as well help each other..

Our belief in our interconnectedness is why UUs are often at the forefront of major justice initiatives in this country.

Yes, any fool can see that our goals of equality, freedom, peace and adequate health care have not been met.

And yet.

I submit that we have made, and will continue to make progress.  None of us can live long enough to enjoy the fruits of all our labors but most of us have lived long enough to see that some of our work has shown results.  Things are a little better for a few more people.  And that’s all we can do friends.  Better. That’s all we need to do.  Just a little better today than yesterday.

The world can be a scary place, not just when events like 9/11 occur.

But our religion of freedom and tolerance and love can be like the moon at midnight, showing us where to go.  We can offer each other glimmers in the dark.  When feeling lost, we can remind you of who you are.

I can’t promise you a rose garden, or really any darn thing.

People we love will get sick. People we love will decide they don’t like us anymore. Or they will move. Or they will die.

Our families will suffer through crises that we cannot even imagine, just as our ancestors did.

And yet.

We will still be here to support you and care for you and love you.

We will be here to engage in justice work, and in service to one another and the wider world.

No matter how dark it gets, one of us will find a candle.

In the Invocation we read this morning, the good minister reminds us of why we come: (Robert Lee Hill, Invocation, from Restoring Faith, ed by Forrest Church 2001)

“To be reminded of what will be,

What can be,

What is truly worthy.”

The UU minister Barbara Pescan also gave us reasons to come and worship:

“Here we learn how we can live,

to remember who we are,

and to create how we will be.”

Welcome home to this congregation of spiritual seekers and justice makers.  May you find what you need, and may you need what you find here.

May it be so and Amen.

SAM 9/11/22