Claiming our Religious Purpose

Opening Words

It is wonderful to be
It is wonderful to be here
It is wonderful to be here together
Let us worship.

Reading

An excerpt of “Why I Come to Church” by A. Powell Davies, from the Skinner House Book Without Apology.

Let me tell you why I come to church. I come to church—and would whether I was a preacher or not—because I fall below my own standards and need to be constantly brought back to them. I am afraid of becoming selfish and indulgent, and my church—my church of the free spirit—brings me back to what I want to be. I could easily despair; doubt and dismay could overwhelm me. My church renews my courage and my hope. It is not enough that I should think about the world and its problems at the level of a newspaper report or a magazine discussion. It could too soon become too low a level. I must have my conscience sharpened—sharpened until it goads me to the most thorough and responsible thinking of which I am capable. I must feel again the love I owe to others. I must not only hear about it but feel it. In church, I do. I am brought toward my best, in every way toward my best.

Sermon

Claiming our Religious Purpose

This past fall, I took a class at Wesley Theological Seminary, a liberal Methodist School in Washington, DC. A significant number of Unitarian Universalists attend Wesley, so they occasionally offer UU-specific courses taught by local UU ministers. The one I took was called Unitarian Universalist Liturgics. Liturgy is defined as the form, or parts, of a public worship service. So the class was about Unitarian Universalist worship—why we do it, what we get from it, how we do it, and so on. Reflecting on these matters deepened my own understanding of worship and religion in profound and unexpected ways.

In fact, I’d say that the class clarified my sense of religious purpose. In my words this morning, I’ll share some of what I learned, and some of my reflections on how we might grow as individuals and as a religious movement.

I credit a number of my realizations to a book by Marva Dawn, entitled “Reaching Out Without Dumbing Down,” in which the author seeks to prevent congregations from being bitterly divided by “worship wars”. “I call them worship wars,” she writes, “because discussions about how to conduct our primary services usually split into two fiercely polarized sides on issues such as ‘traditional’ versus ‘contemporary’ forms of worship.”

Although Dawn’s answers ended up being too Christo-centric for our use, some of the questions she raises are quite helpful—not just for thinking about worship, but for thinking about our religion as well.

What, for example, is the cultural context in which our worship—and our religious community—take place? What forces present obstacles to our coming together with genuine depth and meaning?

Individualism and consumerism, magnified by technology and reinforced by marketing and the media, conditions us all. These forces prepare us to compete, to hurry, to remain superficial—the very opposite of what makes for a good worship or a good religion.

Research shows that the amount of intimate interaction between people, including family members, has been decreasing steadily in recent decades. Individuals spend more time at work, and workplace technology continues to decrease the need for human contact.

Writes Dawn, “As human beings spend less time together with those dearest to them and more time in a wide variety of communities with superficial associations, we lose the opportunity to learn and practice skills of intimacy.”

“Our culture’s loss of intimacy has led to serious consequences,” she continues. “One is that many people turn to [sexual] intimacy because their needs for social intercourse are never met.”

She then goes on to discuss the cultural fascination with talk shows, where people publicly discussed the most private matters, before an audience of emotional voyeurs with whom they are not intimate and to whom they are not accountable for their feelings and actions.

In Dawn’s words again: “Societal and familial loss of intimacy affects the church, too, in many ways. We might know some facts about each other, but we do not actually know who a fellow congregant really is, so we talk about trivia when we gather. We do not know how to share what genuinely matters, how to deal with the real lives and deep hurts or doubts of honest people, or how to speak the truth. Lacking sincere intimacy in congregational fellowship, we often put false pressure on worship to produce feelings of intimacy.”

I know that I have often held worship planners and ministers responsible for services which failed to reach my desired level of intimacy. In reality, part of the responsibility lies with me for having unreasonable expectations, and some lies with the community, or congregation, for not satisfying those needs in other ways. I think that focusing on the depth of our relationships would go far in improving the quality of not only our worship, but our other programming as well.

I am reminded of my experience trying to start a campus group at American University. For most of the school year, the other organizers and I focused on trying to recruit more members: posting flyers, sending emails, making phone calls, etc. A few people came but didn’t stay. Growing was our all-consuming priority, and satisfying our spiritual needs fell by the wayside. So it was no wonder that our visitors didn’t stay—there was nothing there but a sense that we were too small. In subsequent years, quality programming was it’s own outreach and the group grew.

I think that within many congregations, we continue to place too much emphasis on growth as defined by increased membership; that we are consumed by the committees and the administration and the business, leaving the religious aspect of our community to be tacked on later as an afterthought.

To those of you who feel that all work can be religious, I say: I agree completely. My faith is very much intertwined with my work, both professional and volunteer. My legislative work is done from a faith-based perspective, which is particularly helpful because so many members of Congress are possessed by demons. My involvement in campus ministry was similarly grounded in my sense of religious purpose.

Still, this work is not all of who I am. I am also a fiancée, a brother, a son, and a friend. Where in the context of my religious community do I talk about my dying grandmother, my ailing mother, or my soon-to-be married brother? Clearly, I will do this with friends on my own time. But those friends may not be the ones with experience or insight in these areas. I could set up an appointment with the minister, but I don’t think I should need to rely on that person alone for listening and advice. I can share it during worship, but what if no one remembers or cares? In such a big group, that could easily happen—especially to people who are new to the community. Sometimes it’s easier to stay silent than risk a terrible let-down.

The point is that by leaving huge, important parts of our lives to be processed only with friends, or alone, rather than with our fellow congregants, we reinforce individualism and undermine the potential power of our faith community. Furthermore, part of being in community is listening to and learning from people who are different—people who we wouldn’t necessarily call friends. True appreciation for diversity—a necessary step on the road to justice—cannot happen without making opportunities for genuine sharing and relationship-building.

This brings up an interesting comparison. The Unitarian Universalist Association is committed to becoming a more anti-racist, anti-oppressive, multicultural organization, which calls us to examine the ways in which our structures and systems privilege some and oppress others. Those involved in this work often speak of needing to develop an anti-oppressive lens, one that helps us to see the problems and the solutions. For example, are all stakeholders represented in the decision-making body? Who has been left out? Have solutions to problems been identified by those in need, those who’ll be served, or have they been prescribed by perhaps well-meaning but probably uninformed others? How do our congregation’s culture or membership policies make people with low incomes, people of color, or young adults feel welcome or excluded?

I think we could use a lens for promoting authentic community and religious depth. We should get in the habit of asking ourselves—where are the opportunities for intimate connection in our programs and events? How does what we’re doing increase our understanding of Unitarian Universalism?

Let me suggest a way of thinking about these issues, and religious purpose generally. It was something that Marva Dawn felt strongly about, and I took it to heart. The source of this inspiration can be traced back to the book of John, chapter 1, verse 10, in the New Testament of the Christian Bible. In this passage the author writes that Jesus was in this world, but not of if. In this world, but not of it. In modern terms, you might say that although we’re in the rat race, we don’t have to be rats.

What does this mean?

It means that we can be engaged in the world, working for justice and helping others; experiencing pleasure and pain, family and friends. Yet we don’t need to be of this world; we don’t need to be individualistic and consumerist; competitive, or petty. With careful reflection and a supportive community, we can chose what we will claim and what we will not. We can chose to be open and honest with each other. We can make time for discussing our great questions. We can refuse to treat other people, animals, and the planet as competition or consumer products.

But without reflection, without a place to look deeply at our individual and collective lives, I believe that we give corporations, technology, and marketing too much power over us. As with any oppression, the more people there are sharing their negative experiences, the more organized resistance there can be. The less sharing that occurs, the more such oppression is internalized, and the more victimized and broken we become. I believe that Unitarian Universalist congregations can be this place of reflection.

I’m sure that you, like me, have at times had difficulty explaining Unitarian Universalism. Previously, I believed that it was largely a question of rehearsal. If everyone would just come up with a few lines and practice them, then we could reach the thousands if not millions out there who would probably be UU if the knew about us.

But now I wonder if we don’t know what to say because we don’t actually know what we believe. And we don’t know what we believe because we don’t make time to talk about it or reflect on it in a structured way. Think of the people you know the best that are here right now. Do they believe in God? Why or why not? What’s the most important thing about Unitarian Universalism to them? How do they define the word faith?

On a final, parting note, let me suggest a simple concrete way to start some interesting dialogue. The idea was inspired by the Rev. Scott Alexander, a minister at River Road Unitarian Church in Bethesda. Alexander—who is known for his preaching—gave a series of sermons on “Topics that UUs are uncomfortable with,” such as God, Jesus, and prayer.

My suggestion is to have structured discussions around words; starting with their culturally understood definitions and moving to their particular, personal meaning. Words like God, Jesus, and prayer, of course, but also ones like faith, religion, good, evil, sin, salvation, accountability, community, family, human rights, patriotism, etc. Language is an incredibly, incredibly powerful force—politicians, activists, and the Religious Right know this well. As the Rev. Barbara Wells of the Paint Branch church likes to say, “we’ve got to take back the good words!” The more we can define our own terms and claim our own definitions, the more words can be our tools rather than our shackles.

So what is our religious purpose? Is it to foster intimacy and genuine depth? Is it to make sure that meeting spiritual needs is a priority? Is it to be in community with a diverse group of people? Is it to seek justice in the world? Is it to be in this world but not of it?

My answer?

Yes.

Closing words

This service has ended, but yours has just begun.
May you go in peace;
Find truth; and
Seek justice.
Amen.