Drinking from Deep Wells: A Candlemas Reflection

I was a faithful member of the United Methodist Church from the age of 12 until I was 18 and in college. When I left, for good in my mind, at the age of 19, I told myself that I was a leaving behind a church that condemned me, a religion that left me malnourished, and a God who had forsaken me for eternity. In a period of less than two years, my spiritual journey led me along a path from doubting Christian, to anti-religious atheist, to inquisitive Unitarian Universalist. My dalliance with atheism was short-lived and half-hearted, and my embrace of Unitarian Universalism was initially borne of gratitude for discovering a way to be religious that allowed me to be rid of the Christianity that I’d left behind me. I have now been a Unitarian Universalist for 18 years – at 36 years old that’s half my life so far, following the 18 years I was a professing Christian, and threefold the years I belonged to the United Methodist Church with which I identified for so long. A lot about my theology and my religious outlook has changed in all that time, and I continue to reassess my beliefs as I age and have more life experience.

I remember a class called “The New UU” that I took at the first UU congregation I would join on my new path, which is now called the Unitarian Universalist Congregation at Montclair (NJ). In one of the early sessions, a gay former Catholic got into a heated debate with the minister leading the discussion about the role of ritual in Unitarian Universalism. This man was angry at even the merest suggestion that what would be his newfound faith should in any way resemble the one which had scarred him, which meant that there was absolutely no room for ritual of any sort, or even the word ritual itself. At the time, I thought he was being ridiculous; but in him I recognized the hurt that I, too, was feeling as a gay man ostracized by the faith of my upbringing. Who was I to judge him? Unfortunately, he did not find what he was looking for that evening, so he got up in a huff mid-class and he left. I sometimes wonder where his journey led him after that night. As for me, I decided that religion was still a worthwhile pursuit and I chose to remain.

My early years as a Unitarian Universalist were ones in which I was comfortable being dismissive of Christianity and also being around others who were equally or more dismissive. For a modern movement whose roots lie in two Christian denominations, it bewilders me how much we have come to embrace an overall disdain for our origins. Granted, I appreciated this tendency at first; but my years of study and open encounter with those UU’s who would still follow Jesus, not to mention my separation from the particularist and fundamentalist interpretations of the Bible that I’d fled, rendered me less hostile to the faith of my upbringing than I’d once been. Reading the works of Marcus Borg, whom I declared to be my favorite theologian upon his death just a year ago, was a great influence on my willingness to not disregard and discard all the good that I’d known within Christianity. In my experience, many Unitarian Universalists are open to the wisdom of ABC religion – Anything But Christianity.

Now, I don’t mean to suggest that I have come full circle and consider myself a Christian – I haven’t evolved that far, yet! – nor do I mean to imply that everyone can and should find that the Christian story is of ultimate value to their lives. I’m simply observing that, at some point, we became a faith that is comprised largely of people whose major impulse is to leave behind rather than to move toward. How do we overcome that?

In the eighteen years since I left Christianity behind me, I have attended Christian churches of various denominations only for weddings, funerals, and, after I met my husband and began observing Christmas again, Christmas Eve services. I once attended a Lutheran service on Palm Sunday because a nephew was being baptized. In almost every instance, I felt like an outsider. A welcomed and well-treated outsider, but an outsider nonetheless. Last year on Candlemas, a time of purification, preparation, initiation, and commitment, I decided that my spiritual life was spread too broadly and that I needed to choose the wells from which I would drink more deeply. On that day, I joined both the Unitarian Universalist Christian Fellowship, having decided to stop fighting my background, and the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans, having long ago come to the conclusion that an observance of the natural cycles of the earth, and of life, held great value for me. I’ve spent the year between that Candlemas and this embracing the idea of claiming a narrower path than the one I’ve been taking all these years. I began moving closer to the rhythm of the Christian liturgical cycle during Advent, reflecting on quiet hope in the dark of the year. I continued observance of the rhythm of the pagan wheel of the year, participating once again in my church’s Winter Solstice ritual. In eighteen years, I refused communion at every Christian service I went to where it was offered (except once a year, at most, in my own UU congregation where I could partake in good conscience). On this last Christmas Eve, after ten Christmases in a row of letting my husband and in-laws go up for communion and waiting behind, I led our pew up to the front of the church and partook with them. Just this weekend, I attended the Imbolc ritual of the Baltimore Reclaiming Community, where I honored the lengthening of days, asked a blessing on holy candles, gazed into the ignis purgans, and made a pledge to “live fully now” in the coming year. Next week brings Ash Wednesday... There’s something about these rituals that I’ve been missing in Unitarian Universalism, notwithstanding the sometime belief that there is too much ritual, as espoused by the wounded man I’d met so many years before as a new UU.

Part of what we as Unitarian Universalists value in religious life is the “encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations”, and we promote the “direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life”. I have come to a point in my life where that means I must dig more deeply and draw from the wells that I have chosen for myself. The words of what some view as the Unitarian Universalist’s most sacred hymn plead “roots hold me close, wings set me free”. For the year ahead, I intend to explore ways in which I might be held close by my Christian roots and set free by Pagan wings. I will continue to be nourished from other wells, as they offer me their resources; but I will tend to my own at this time, and I will pray that this anchoring and expanding might continue to be held within my chosen faith community. Spirit of Life, come to me…come to me.

Should all Unitarian Universalists embrace a neutral humanism?

This morning I received a message from a friend who recently joined a Unitarian Universalist congregation for the first time a little under a year ago. The message asked for my take on an article posted on the Huffington Post titled "Welcoming Unitarian Universalists Home to Humanism", by the executive director of the American Humanist Association, Roy Speckhardt. At the time, I thought that the article was freshly written and posted - I now see that it was originally posted on that site in 2013. Nevertheless, I enjoy receiving such queries from friends and gave my friend a rather wordy response, essentially stating that I disagree with much of the author's premise, and explained why using just the first sentence of the article. I will respond to the content of the rest of the article in as many posts as necessary, and I hope to continue the many great conversations I have been having with UUs and others about the past, current, and future state of affairs among Unitarian Universalist worldviews.

And now that I've piqued your curiosity and you've read the article (seriously, read that first), what follows is a version of the response I sent to the friend who asked my opinion. I invite your opinions in the comments. I welcome constructive criticism and debate. I do not tolerate abusive language or mean-spirited diatribe. Here we go!

Adrian

Note: There has been discussion over the appropriate use of the word "humanism", and the differences between various forms it takes, such as religious humanism, secular humanism, etc. What I understood from the word's use in the article and the meaning that I ascribe to it below is probably more accurately termed "nontheism", or "antitheism", as the case may be.

What an interesting article! Thank you for sharing it with me. My take on it, for the most part, is that I disagree with him almost in entirety. Starting with the first sentence, which reads in part that a humanist approach has been viewed as "the appropriate neutral philosophical place for all UUs to convene". Full disclosure - I am a theist, not a humanist, but I will try to be as unbiased as I can in my response. By and large, I don't believe that UUs should be neutral in our outlook, philosophy, faith, or other positions, whenever a strong opinion is preferable to neutrality. I also oppose the insinuation that "all UUs" must have the same position on the nontheist-theist continuum. That misses the larger point of Unitarian Universalism altogether.

From among our Six Sources (listed here with our Seven Principles), the one drawn from humanism itself reads:

"Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science, and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit;"

One of the major influences humanism has had on Unitarian Universalist thought is that we cannot and ought not allow any one "idolatry" overtake us. Note, too, that it says "of the mind and spirit". We should no more idolize the supremacy of reason than we should allow theism to be the only valid stand that a Unitarian Universalist may choose. Sure, humanism has held a high position of power and influence in the UU world for decades now, but it certainly should not be the place where we all "convene". Rather, I believe that we each forge our paths, along with others on similar paths, and we convene together with our differences and learn one from another. "God talk" may be uncomfortable from time to time for those who don't find such language useful, or even believe it to be harmful. The lack of such "spiritual" language is distressing for those of us who are not humanists. Church should be a place where we work through our discomforts, together, not a place where everyone toes the same line.

All that from just the first sentence! 

Humanism is a vital and necessary part of Unitarian Universalism...but it is only a part, not the whole.

I now ask self-identified humanists who read this article: What is your take on it? Do you feel threatened by shifts in language or tone in your congregation? Would an increase in "god talk" in your congregation, if not to the exclusion of more "neutral" language, be a deal-breaker for you? My observation is that this same argument — that one or the other group within the broad tent of Unitarian Universalism is falling victim to some position ostensibly hostile toward it — is being made from all sides. Many UU Christians and other theists have written similarly about how humanism threatens the historical dominance of theistic thinking in our earlier history. This is not a new conversation, but the tide seems indeed to have swung some, which is what I imagine spawned this article. I hope we can find our way to a place where people feel validated, secure in their views, and unthreatened by those who don't share their theological/philosophical stances. 

Bet you weren't expecting an essay! But there you have it, my take. Or the beginning of it, anyway.

To be continued...

#tigers4love

During the work week, I usually set my alarm for 5:30 a.m. My commute is a rather long one, generally lasting at least 90 minutes, but more often than not around 2 hours or more. Each way. I try to use all of this travel time productively—by reading, listening to interesting podcasts, meditating, writing, learning new languages...it's time well spent! And I love my job, so it's all good. In any case, I usually hit snooze several times before I actually drag myself out of bed and get going. But today was different.

Last night, I went ahead and set my alarm for 5:30 and realized that I would really have to get up when it went off. Why? Because I was made aware that members of the Westboro Baptist Church would be traveling to Tenleytown to protest at Wilson High School, a school that I pass almost every day on my way to work in nearby Chevy Chase, and I wanted to show up in support of them in their loving counter-protest. So at 5:30 this morning I forced myself out of bed, showered and dressed, and headed to DC.

I had intended to wear one of my yellow "Standing On the Side of Love" t-shirts because the student organizers asked that people representing others groups and organizations wear identifiable (and hopefully colorful!) clothing, and also because it's become sort of a habit for us Unitarian Universalists to wear this uniform when demonstrating for a cause. However, my brain was not quite awake when I left the house, and I left the t-shirt at home. Oops. Once I finally arrived in Tenleytown I did indeed see some "love people", and I went over to them and introduced myself. I was happy to note that there were other people of different faiths present as well, witnessing to the reality that love really is greater and broader than the hate espoused by the WBC.

But the most amazing thing of all, and the most inspiring, and the most hopeful, is that this significant event was organized by and realized through the efforts of students at the high school. The high school version of me from the mid-90s could not possibly have imagined a world in which not only would it be possible to be out about my sexuality, but that I would have the support of my school, my neighborhood, and my broader community as a gay young man deserving of respect and of love. But this is the reality for the teenagers who attend Wilson High School (and their principal!), and for students in others schools with GSAs—including my alma mater, which I hear has begun a group in the past few years. When I recall the dark depressive moods I would endure, obsessed with thoughts of suicide but never willing to attempt it (thank God), my inner teenager weeps with joy for the possibilities available to high school students these days. That younger me didn't think I would ever make it past the age of 20, much less that I would grow into a happy, loved adult, and that I would be able to marry the love of my life legally. These kids don't have to wonder as much. For them, the possibility of future and present happiness is very real, and they know it. It truly is amazing how much the world has changed in this relatively short time.

And in the midst of all the chanting and the cheering and the general merry-making, there was one young lady with a simple sign that read "Christian values equal LOVE!" So simple. And so not the message of vitriolic hatefulness promoted by the Westboro Baptist Church. I'd choose the message of the students at Wilson over the WBC any day. These students get it. They can teach the world a thing or two.

#tigers4love

"Christian values equal Love!"

Palm Sunday in the ELCA

Yesterday, on Palm Sunday, I attended a service at a Lutheran Church for the baptism of my partner's and my newest nephew. Over the years that I have been with my partner I have changed a lot, and my feelings about Christianity have evolved and broadened. Still, the only times I set foot in Christian churches for a service over the past decade have been for weddings, funerals, and for the past eight Christmas Eves with my partner's family at their Lutheran Church. Every year, my internal dialog leading into Christmas revolves around whether or not to take communion. So far, my resolve has been not to participate, both because I respect the rite for what it means to the community in which I am a guest, and also because I respect that the rite in that format doesn't mean much to me. After all this time, I figure that folks in the congregation have grown accustomed to my stepping aside and observing while they line up rather than joining them up at the altar. Going to a service, in the daylight, at the start of the holiest week in the Christian liturgical year...that was going to be something different altogether!

Except, that it wasn't. Despite my admittedly small anxiety over the question of communion, I wondered what my reaction would be to doctrine around the last few days of Jesus' life and his pending resurrection. I wondered what my reaction would be to the sacrament of baptism, understood in most Christian communities as an initiation into the Christian fold. Would I bristle at the exclusivity of it all? Would I find the tone of the service arrogant and condescending? Would I hold my breath and pray for it to be over so we could take pictures and go back to the farm for lunch with family?

No. None of that happened. In fact, I was actually very pleased with the whole experience. The people were warm and welcoming, as they always have been. The hymn tunes, for the most part, were familiar and comforting. The scripture reading from Isaiah spoke to me, and the gospel reading was touching, if somber. The baby was ever so peaceful and neither cried nor woke during the baptism service. Included in the time for intercessory prayer were words of inclusion which, while affirming the primacy of Christ for the congregation at hand, yet still honored and respected people of differing belief! I was amazed and pleased. And, though I'm not sure of the exact reason (perhaps because of the quiet tenor of anticipation during Holy Week), there was no communion!

As they say in the United Church of Christ, God is still speaking! And I am indeed pleased with strides made of late in the Lutheran Church (ELCA), specifically with regard to attitudes on human sexuality. My assumptions about what Christianity is are biased by my experience of what it has been, and are crumbling in the face of what it is becoming - which is ever-more inclusive and tolerant of diversity, at least in certain corners of the United States.

Here's what I was confronted with on Sunday:

Isaiah 50:4-9(a) {NRSV}

⁴ The Lord God has given me
    the tongue of a teacher,
that I may know how to sustain
    the weary with a word.
Morning by morning he wakens—
    wakens my ear
    to listen as those who are taught.
⁵ The Lord God has opened my ear,
    and I was not rebellious,
    I did not turn backward.
⁶ I gave my back to those who struck me,
    and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;
I did not hide my face
    from insult and spitting.

⁷ The Lord God helps me;
    therefore I have not been disgraced;
therefore I have set my face like flint,
    and I know that I shall not be put to shame;
⁸     he who vindicates me is near.
Who will contend with me?
    Let us stand up together.
Who are my adversaries?
    Let them confront me.
⁹ It is the Lord God who helps me;

who will declare me guilty? 

I listened to the reader, and I heard the still, small voice within me say "God has a use for you". I felt like, yeah, maybe one day I will actually go to seminary. I thought of all the bad experiences I had in the past and into the present with those who profess the love of God while inflicting spiritual harm on anyone who is different than they are, and I heard "you are a child of God, do not be ashamed". I heard the foreshadowing of "they know not what they do", and while I began to feel pity for people who claim Christianity yet do not follow Jesus' command to love, I realized that those pitiful people were not the ones with whom I was worshiping. No, these people were a community of people striving together, struggling together, to be the best people that they could be. These people were Christians the way God intends Christians to be. It was a revelatory moment for me, hearing the scripture read in this context. It wasn't until later that I discovered that, at least according to the program insert provided by the ELCA, these words of the prophet Isaiah were seen as predicting the Messiah and were to be read as though Jesus said them. No matter. God was still speaking through Isaiah's words, and I heard what God wanted to say to me, in my heart.

Later, toward the end of the baptism portion of the service, came the intercessory prayers:

Returning to the Lord with all our heart, let us pray for the whole people of God, the earth, and all who cry out for healing.

{A brief silence.}

Form in the church the mind of Christ, that we may empty ourselves for the sake of the world you love. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Open the ears of civil authorities, that they may hear the voices of those facing insult and degradation, and those who cry out for bread and shelter. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Rescue the earth from abuse and pollution, and bring an end to famine, disease, terror, and bloodshed. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Bless the Jewish people as they celebrate Passover, and grant that the religions of the world may grow in mutual understanding and respect. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Draw near to all who feel abandoned, or who face alienation, death, or illness this holy week {prayers inserted here for local community members}. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Teach us to walk the way of the cross, that we may be a community of forgiveness and mercy. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

{Here other intercessions were offered.}

We remember all the martyrs and saints who at death were commended into your merciful hands (especially Oscar Romero). Bring us, with them, to the joy of the resurrection. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Hear us according to your steadfast love, O God, and in your great compassion bring us to resurrection and rebirth in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen. 

Can you believe it? I hardly could.

At the end of the service, church members came up to this large group of people, mostly out-of-towners just present for the baby's baptism, and sincerely welcomed us, inviting us back for next week's service! The pessimist in me thought "they are a tiny congregation and it must feel nice to have more people present for services", and this is probably true. But the optimist in me thought "these are people of God, behaving in a way that is pleasing to God."

And we all laughed, and smiled, and rejoiced. It didn't hurt that our nephew (like all our other nieces and nephews) is the cutest most adorable most well-behaved kid on the face of the planet*.



*The bias here is all mine, and I'm not ashamed!