Seeking Sanctuary

In my experience, when people are asked why they became Unitarian Universalists, or why they remain Unitarian Universalists, one of the reasons most often cited is community.  We seek groups of people who are like-minded, or who have similar values, with whom we can connect and to which we might belong. It’s a perfectly human desire, and Unitarian Universalist congregations provide that home that many of us need, especially when we feel that we would not be comfortable or would not be wholly accepted in any other of the spheres we inhabit in our lives.

When I first became a UU, now half my life ago, I, too, sought community. I sought a place where I could be me – a black, gay, young man, raised a Christian but seeking…something. I sought a place where I could pose questions about God, where I could ask “why?” without fear of reprisal, where I could confidently assert “I don’t believe that!” without fear of rejection. And I believe I found that place.

But community is noisy. Community is different people coming together with all their joys and all their hurts, their assuredness and their confusion. Community of the people by the people and for the people is an exercise in controlled chaos at times. Community means serving on committees, task forces, councils and boards in the interest of perpetuating said community. Community is busy, and loud, and satisfying, and depleting, and beautiful, and replenishing, and rough. Community is competing wants and needs seeking resolution. Community is strength and community is effacement. Community is multivalent – as many different things as the people within it, and much more.

And although community is very important to me, it has never been my primary reason for joining or remaining a member of a church. My answers to that question about becoming a UU usually sound like “exploring my spirituality” or “cultivating my theology”. My answers about remaining a UU usually sound similar, with the added component of a deep love for this faith I found all those years ago. Having benefitted from community for so long, I have come to a place in my life where what I need more even than the community I found is sanctuary.

Seder table set on the chancel in the sanctuary of the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore (Universalist & Unitarian), April 2010

Sanctuary is stillness. Sanctuary is safe vulnerability; sanctuary is comfort. Sanctuary is holiness, set apart from the mundane. Sanctuary is oneness of breath, oneness of purpose, oneness of intention. Sanctuary is showing up, sitting in a pew, and being nourished. Sanctuary is allowing others to do the hard raucous work of community, for a time. Sanctuary is self-care. Sanctuary is Sabbath rest - the opportunity just to be and not to do. Sanctuary is the quiet harmony of everything which is nothing which is within everything and nothing. Sanctuary is wholeness. Sanctuary is peace.

Community and sanctuary are not of necessity at odds with one another; they can both exist in the same space and at the same time. Somehow. One of the things I’ve discovered while exploring my spirituality and cultivating my theology, all within the framework of my UU community, is that God more often than not resides in the mystery of paradox. Sanctuary means being able to find an answer to “why?” and being able to say “I do believe this” without fear of reprisal or rejection.

Sanctuary is quiet silence. Today I seek the quiet.


#UULent reflection for Day 3: Quiet 

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...

May 17

I have been married for one week and one day.

On May 17, 2014, exactly two months ahead of the nine-year anniversary of the day I fell in love with my partner, we were finally, beautifully, joyously, and legally married at the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore, surrounded by about 250 of the people we most care about and who love us with a boundless love. It was miraculous — a dream come true, and just perfect, despite a few hiccups along the way. We are so happy.

Photo Credit: A.N.G.R. Photography

Over the course of these nine years, I have (on several occasions) fantasized about getting married on many different dates, for various reasons. I don't really know much about numerology and the like, but for some reason I wanted to choose a wedding date that was significant. All of the dates I'd chosen came and went, and we remained unwed; we've felt ourselves to be married for quite a few years now, and settled on telling people that we were getting "wedding'd", although I can't describe the sense of legitimacy and finality we've at last been allowed to experience now that marriage equality is the law of the land, at least here in Maryland and a handful of other states.

During the summer of 2013, we'd finally agreed that it was time, and decided we would like to get married in the spring of 2014. Because Joel comes from a family of farmers, we understood that this would be a difficult time to schedule a wedding, due to the uncertainty of the weather for planting season in Western Pennsylvania. However, we decided that sometime in May might work best for our families to travel to Baltimore from the various states where they live.

May 3 ended up being too early, and because the Sunday closest to May 5, "Union Sunday", is a kind of High Holy Day in our congregation, we didn't want to take that weekend. May 10 was Mother's Day Weekend...so, no. May 17 seemed like a good date.. And May 24 — this weekend — is Memorial Day Weekend, so we didn't want it now. Next weekend, May 31, would have been much too late. So May 17 it was.

Curious to know what "significance" May 17 might have, I looked up historical events that took place on that date:

On May 17, 1536, the marriage of Henry VIII of England to Anne Boleyn was annulled. Hmm...no.

On May 17, 1875, Aristides, a thoroughbred chestnut colt, won the first Kentucky Derby. Great, but not so significant to married life, and I wouldn't realize any connection until much later...

On May 17, 1954, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously decided Brown v. Board of Education, allowing for racial integration and declaring that separate is inherently unequal. A-ha! Something of import for a racially mixed gay couple! May 17 seemed like a good date after all!

On May 17, 1990, when I was a hurting, depressed, and moody eleven-year-old boy generally unaware of such external goings-on, the General Assembly of the World Health Organisation (WHO) eliminated homosexuality from its list of psychiatric diseases. Being gay was no longer considered to be a mental and emotional deficiency! HALLELUJAH! May 17 seemed like a GREAT date!

And on May 17, 2004, after the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled in Goodrich v. Department of Public Health that barring same-sex couples from marriage was unconstitutional, couples in that state began marrying. In this number were the seven couples from the court case, all of whom were wed at the Arlington Street Church (Unitarian Universalist). JACKPOT! Joel and I would be wed on the 10th Anniversary of the very first same-sex marriages in these United States of America. And since May 17, 2005, this day has been celebrated as the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia (IDAHO, or IDAHOT since the 2009 inclusion of Transphobia in the title). We couldn't have landed a more perfect date!

It wasn't until we began trying to block hotel rooms for out-of-state guests that we learned that May 17, 2014, would also be the date for the Preakness Stakes, the second leg of U.S. horseracing's triple crown. Oh well, we weren't going to change the date now! We'd just have to make do with sharing our day with the Preakness, and we did. And it was such a glorious day.

I often joke about having CDO, which is like obsessive-compulsive disorder except with the letters in the right order [insert LOL here]. I'm not sure why it was so important to me that we be married on a date with some oomph to it...but I'm so happy that we did! We have the rest of our lives to celebrate, together with the world, the power of love to overcome obstacles, and to win over the hearts of humankind.

I'm so in love, I don't think this glow will ever go away...

Photo Credit: Amy Genevieve Kozak

Unitarian Universalists Believe What We Must

I'm tired of people claiming that Unitarian Universalists don't believe anything, or that we are just a social—or worse yet, political—club. Where does the notion come from, and why is it so easily perpetuated? Every Unitarian Universalist that I have ever met has either known precisely what they believe in, or have been somewhere on the path of discernment, discovering just which beliefs resonate with them and which do not. Mainly we are both of these types at the same time. I know this is just a shade of difference from that latter type of person, but I don't know anyone who believes in nothing. Who believes in nothing? How does one believe in nothing? Everyone believes something about the nature of reality and our existence in it, right?

I am also weary of people claiming that Unitarian Universalists can believe anything we want to. Although I find this to be a slightly less offensive position than the first, I find it to be equally untrue...or at the very least, ambiguous enough to warrant serious doubts. Unitarian Universalists don't believe just anything. True, we believe many different things, but is that really saying the same thing? There are other non-credal faiths out there. What makes us the ones that people just don't get? Let me try to explain non-credal: we are not required by any institution to accept any theological position as true and binding which does not resonate with and originate within our own spirit. Non-credal doesn't mean non-belief, and it doesn't mean belief in any- and everything. It means that Unitarian Universalists believe what we each must believe.

Yes, I believe what I must believe. I believe that God is present within everything that exists, and that we all exist within God. I believe that God is not a person, but that I am personally connected to, related to, indebted to, enamored with, and dependent on God. I believe that everyone else is, too, but that we each speak from our own experience and background, and thus use the words of our own language to describe what we can only describe very poorly, perhaps ineffectually. I believe that I, with God, can make a difference in people's lives, including and perhaps especially my own. I believe that many Unitarian Universalists who are not me will not believe any of the things I just listed and may bristle at all the "God-talk". I believe that that's OK. I believe that how we treat one another is more important — and a better indicator of the presence of God in our lives — than the differing beliefs we hold and the words we choose and use to express them.

Do I believe these things because I want to? No. I believe them because I have to. Life simply does not make sense to me if I don't believe these things. I would be in perpetual despair if these things were not true, because every fiber of my being tells me that they are. If I could believe in whatever I wanted, I would believe that Jesus Christ is the only begotten Son of God the Father Almighty up in Heaven, that He is my Lord and Savior, and that He came to Earth, suffered, died for my sins, and rose from the dead to offer me eternal sanctuary with Him now and at the end of days. Why would I want to believe these things? Because that's what most of my family believes; and because I don't like conflict, I don't always enjoy being on the outside of the in-group (it gets lonesome here), and life in the United States of America might just be a little less rife with tension if I believed as many others claim to believe. Yes, I would believe these things if I could believe whatever I wanted. But I don't believe these things. And not just because I don't want to, but because I can't. My beliefs are not a matter of desire or volition.

Being a Unitarian Universalist is a tough job. We have to figure out what we must believe, many of us by learning from what others believe and sifting out the things that don't evoke in our spirits a sense of the Divine, while retaining those things that do. Our institutions do not determine or proscribe what those precise things might be, but we collectively share guidelines to help us along the way. We agree to walk with one another on the journey, in love. Sometimes that walk is exciting and filled with joyous discovery and revelation. Sometimes it can be boring and dull as anything—but the point is that we do it together. My boring jaunt on any given day with other souls might provide that life-changing and life-affirming moment that they need to make their own connection to the Divine. Who am I to deny them that opportunity? Who am I to deny it to myself?

Unitarian Universalism is a saving faith. The more ways and opportunities we have to connect to the Divine, the better. Hallelujah!

So no, we do not believe in nothing, and we do not believe in everything. Each of us struggles to uncover what it is that we absolutely must believe. How do we put an end to the perception that we are "just a club"? How can I stop being annoyed by these misconceptions?

Multicultural Ministries Sharing Project

I just finished taking this survey put out by the UUA's Racial Justice and Multicultural Ministries. It was looooong, but I think your input could be very informative and helpful. Besides, they are asking for help getting the word out for the survey, and here I go spreading the word!

SO - if you self-identify as a Unitarian Universalist who is "historically marginalized by ability (including chemical sensitivity and food allergies), sexual orientation, gender identity/expression, race, and/or ethnicity", I encourage you also to participate in this project.

You must be over the age of 13 to participate, and the new deadline is November 30, 2013.

Please participate!

http://www.uua.org/multiculturalism/287941.shtml

THANKS!

Union Sunday 2013

Are you in the Baltimore area? Come to the Union Sunday service at the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore tomorrow morning, May 5, 2013 at 11AM!

This special service commemorates the sermon given in 1819 by William Ellery Channing at the ordination of our first minister, Jared Sparks. The sermon, titled "Unitarian Christianity" and popularly know as the Baltimore Sermon, was essentially the first public declaration of Unitarianism as a distinct thread of Christian thought in the United States.

Although we are no longer predominantly or nominally Christian per se as a body, each year on the first Sunday in May, we invite a distinguished Unitarian Universalist to challenge us in a manner that pays homage to the way Channing's original sermon challenged the orthodoxy of his day (and ours?).

This year's speaker, from the Unitarian Church of All Souls in New York City, is Rev. Galen Guengrich, preaching on "A Departure from the Course Generally Followed".

All area Unitarian Universalists are invited for this wonderful service, and as usual you are welcome to join us! It's going to be packed, so come early to find a good seat. See you there!

Click here to read Reverend Channing's "Unitarian Christianity".

Click here to see the facebook event for May 5, 2013.

Stealing Jesus: to claim, or not to claim, my Christian heritage?

So - working in a synagogue has given me new perspective on the value of scripture, heritage and tradition. Although I briefly thought of myself as an atheist after leaving the United Methodist Church I was raised in, God has never really been far from my heart, and certainly has never been far from my mind - I'm for all intents and purposes obsessed with theological reflection. I once had a conversation with a fellow member in my home Unitarian Universalist congregation, where I must have asked him something along the lines of "why do you stick with Christianity", although I can't remember exactly what either of us said. Even though the words of his answer are lost to my memory, what I understood him to be communicating to me was that he remains a Christian because he has to. Because that's who he is.


At the time, I didn't quite get what he meant. But learning about the yearly cycle of festivals and observances, of weekly Torah readings and study, and all the trappings of what it means to be a Jew - all of that is leading me to realize that I, too, cannot escape who I am. As a Unitarian Universalist, it is incumbent upon me to learn from any and every faith tradition that provides meaning for me and to apply what I've learned to my life. But no amount of respect and study of the Mahabharata will make me a Hindu. No amount of study of the Tripitaka will make me a Buddhist. Although I appreciate Judaism and learned more about it in the past six months than I realized I didn't know...I will never be a Jew.


I have come to the realization - or decision - that I can study and appreciate any of these faiths and more, but that I cannot adopt them as my own. I can learn from them, but I am unable to fully embrace them. The Judeo-Christian Bible and its stories, its legacies, are ingrained in me by way of my upbringing in a way that is more immediate and comprehensible to me than any other tradition has a hope of becoming, by the mere fact that I was raised with it. It's a part of me. And whether I agree or disagree with Christianity as it has become in our society, I have to admit that, as an American with my background, it's still the first lens through which I understand the universe.


So why not claim my heritage, make it my own, and run with it? Because I still have baggage. I cannot, I will not, call myself a Christian unless and until I can deal with the baggage that comes along with that for me. However, I can stop fighting it. I believe I already have stopped fighting it; but saying it out loud should make it easier to let go. Rev. Rolenz' sermon helped me to see that I don't have to accept other people's understanding of Jesus' message - which has been morphed over the millenia into the myriad churches we have today. I am also reading Marcus Borg's Reading the Bible Again for the First Time, which, after reading his book The God We Never Knew, is allowing me to feel more comfortable with my history, and by extension with my future. Can I be a Jesusite without Christianity? Can I call myself a Christian without all the Jesus stuff? Can I, like so many of my Jewish friends, just put secular in front of Christian and be happy with that, ignoring whatever (temporary?) cognitive dissonance it creates in my mind? Hm...


So yeah - that's a lot of babbling. And I'm not sure it came out coherently. Watch the sermon, maybe that will help.


For now, I will continue to reflect on harmonious ways to claim my inherited Christian tradition, melded with my pagan a.k.a. nature-based spirituality. I'm blessed to have a home in Unitarian Universalism, my chosen faith, that provides me the space to do so.

Sports and Spirituality, or "GO RAVENS!"

I am not much of a sports fan. And although basketball - and to a slightly lesser extent, football - played a role in my youth, I have always been more of an "arts & humanities" lover than a sports fan. As a kid, I would almost always prefer to play than to watch a sport. In school, kickball was the most popular game, and I was pretty good at it! My father played basketball, and I think my brother inherited most of his athletic interests. Still, I can enjoy a good game when the mood strikes.

This fall will mark ten years in Baltimore for me. To this point, I haven't paid much attention to our sports teams. Of course, I know that our baseball team is the Orioles, our football team is the Ravens - I even know that we have a soccer team called the Blast. I recognize some of the names when I hear them: Tejada. Rice. Markakis. Lewis. I have been to a few O's games, but never to any other professional sporting event since moving to Maryland. I wouldn't know any players by face, except for Joe Flacco and Brendon Ayanbadejo, the latter primarily due to his outspoken stance in favor of marriage equality rather than his athleticism.

And yet, I live in Baltimore and so I root (if at all) for our teams. Especially when visiting my partner's family in rural western Pennsylvania, outside of Pittsburgh. Especially when the Ravens are up against the Steelers. Especially then!

Now, there is little to no chance that I am going to morph into a sports nut overnight. But when I heard that the Ravens defeated the New England Patriots and were heading to the Super Bowl, well, that felt good. All of Baltimore (and even some Redskins fans down the road in DC) felt good, excited, hopeful. And boy is it nice to see the city decked out in purple - my favorite color! Some folks have insinuated that people like me are fair-weather fans, and charges of "jumping on the bandwagon" have been leveled, to which I respond no, I am not a fair-weather fan. Although the joy of a game is indeed easier to perceive on a bright and sunny day, I generally just don't care much about professional sports.

Right?

The reason most often cited in Unitarian Universalist circles for belonging to a religious community is the satisfaction of the desire for just that - community. As spiritual beings, we yearn for the intimacy of belonging - of being known and valued, of knowing and valuing others, of knowing that we are really real and that we actually do matter. "Roots hold me close" go the words of Carolyn McDade's Spirit of Life, arguably the best known piece of music sung (frequently) in our congregations. There is a safety and security in being rooted to a community of ultimacy, where we explore together what it means to exist. But beyond all that, it actually feels good to belong, to not be alone, to know one's tribe.

Watching yesterday's Super Bowl match between the Baltimore Ravens and the San Francisco 49ers was a religious experience. No, I don't believe that there was any divine intervention and that God favored one team over the other. However, the palpable excitement - and even the tension and anxiety - served to bring an entire city together, if only for a few hours' time. After a decade in Maryland, I only recently stopped hemming and hawing when someone asked me if I was "from" Baltimore, preferring instead to tell folks I am "from" the NYC Metro Area but "live in" Baltimore.

Yes, indeed, there is something basic in human nature that yearns for that intense tribal experience - that visceral high and rush of adrenaline only brought about by the elation of a team coming through together to victory, whatever its pursuit.

Unitarian Universalists can be so intently focused on the spiritual advancement of the individual, notwithstanding our social justice bent that focuses on the betterment of society at large. What would our congregations look like if, even some of the time, we allowed ourselves to experience the wild wanton passion - the ecstatic joy - of collective worship, in a way that taps into our root-chakra primal selves? What would that be like? How might we do that? I have heard stories of summer institutes and retreats that do this for people. The closest I've come is General Assembly...which I guess is a Super Bowl of sorts in this faith tradition.

Would it make the experience less extraordinary if we had a Super Bowl every week? Is the fact that it happens so infrequently part of its allure? Perhaps. But it doesn't hurt to dream of a world where so many people experience so much joy together more often.

Go Ravens!

What's a Uvangelist?

Uvangelism is a word I first saw online maybe a decade ago on a Unitarian Universalist website called UniUniques (see http://www.uniuniques.com/Uvangelist/Uvangelism.htm). It's usually spelled UUvangelism, due to the quaint habit we UU's have of doubling the letter U in funny acronyms etc.

In any case, the original word is evangel, which comes from the Greek 'εὐαγγέλιον' whose roots mean "true/good" and "message/news"; so evangel means "true message" or "good news". An evangelist is a person who carries/spreads the good news (e.g. about their faith).

So...by extension, a Uvangelist is a UU evangelist. In other words, a Unitarian Universalist who believes that the "good news" of their Unitarian Universalist faith is worth sharing with other people.

Unfortunately, the word evangelism is often confused in the U.S. with the word proselytism (which means "to make a proselyte", proselyte meaning "one who has converted", from the Greek 'πρόςηλυτος', or "went toward" i.e. converted). Thus, a proselytizer is someone who is trying to convert another to his/her faith, whereas an evangelist is simply sharing his/her faith with people. Uvangelism is an attempt by UUs like myself to enhance the meaning of evangelism (by proudly bearing the title "Uvangelist" and spreading the Good News!), while at the same time avoiding the negative connotations of proselytizing. Of course, if one believes that their news is worth sharing one would also hope that others will share this belief...but such belief cannot and should not be compulsory or forced.

Ask me anything cultural, especially about language, music, sexuality, religion and faith.

The role of religion in my life

Years ago, I was a very active member of a community of Unitarian Universalists on the popular website beliefnet.com Participating there actually helped me on my journey into Unitarian Universalism, and provided a virtual community that I sorely needed at that time. In the decade or so since I first joined, Beliefnet has gone through many changes...many of which I did not appreciate, and therefore my participation in whatever community may remain there has become nonexistent.

However, the memory of what once was occasionally draws me back to the site, and I sometimes find little gems of conversation that spark more thoughts in me about my spiritual journey.

Today I happened to catch a tweet (@beliefnet) that led me to the site, where a user posed the question "What role does religion play in your life?", followed by a series of illustrative questions to elicit responses. Most folks answered the questions individually, and so that's what I did. Here is my response, with questions included:

What role does religion play in your life?
Religion is pretty central to my life, and everything I am and do is an expression of that.

Do you believe in the absolute historical accuracy and authority of your religious text(s)?

I believe that all religious texts are representations of a people’s attempt to understand themselves and the universe they inhabit. They are true inasmuch as any story illustrates its truth, and need not be literal in order to have meaning. In this sense, the text has only as much authority as is given it by the reader, who must find some resonance with it. The question of “absolute historical accuracy” is therefore moot.

Is it just a cultural thing for you, something you were raised with and identify yourself as, but otherwise don't care much about?

No. I actually “converted” in my late teens/early twenties, and my religious identity is very important to me.

Do you participate in your religion because it gives you comfort and strength? Or maybe a sense of community and belonging?

Both. It also provides me with opportunities to fulfill my own human potential, a challenge to help others fulfill their potential, and a safe framework within which to struggle with “the big questions”.

Do you feel like you're fulfilling a destiny of some kind by carrying out the teachings of your religion?

I feel like am doing the best I can to comprehend existence and to improve our experience of it. If that moving toward wholeness and holiness is “destiny”, then I must answer yes. If by destiny you mean something like “the inevitability of fate”, then I would say no.

I welcome you to state your religion when answering, if you feel comfortable doing so.

I am a Unitarian Universalist.

UUA.org

More questions? Feel free to ask me anything cultural - especially about language, music, sexuality, religion and faith - by clicking here. Account not required; anonymous questions allowed.

formspring question: If everyone goes to Heaven, as Universalists traditionally believe, whats the reward for doing good works over doing bad works?

Universalists have understood the concepts of Heaven and Hell in different ways over the centuries. Few (if any) modern Universalists within the Unitarian Universalist movement believe in Heaven or Hell as a literal place-destination. If they find the idea theologically useful at all, it is more likely that these terms will refer to frames of mind and states of being.
When Christians refer to “building the Kingdom of God”, this usually means creating a world that is just and at peace in the here-and-now, rather than designating any otherworldly heaven in the afterlife. I would wager that for most Universalists, Christian or otherwise, creating such a world is the only way to “get to Heaven” right here on Earth, and that in itself is enough motivation for doing good.
As for rewards, I’m not sure Universalists seek any…but if the consequence of doing bad works is living a personal hell, then I’d say that’s deterrent enough to live as best a life as one can.

Thanks for the question. I hope I’ve done it justice with my response!

Ask me anything cultural, especially about language, music, sexuality, religion and faith.

September 11, 2001, helped solidify my UU faith

I stayed up pretty late on Monday, September 10, 2001. At 22 years old, I was a supervisor at Borders and working the closing shift the next day; there was no reason for me to go to bed early. In all likelihood, I probably went out with friends and partied. After all, that’s what 22 year-olds do, isn’t it?

But I don’t remember much of anything factual about Monday, September 10, 2001. What I do remember is my brother waking me up way too early the following morning with some stupid story about an airplane flying into one of the twin towers. At the time, I felt that my younger siblings were more of an annoyance to me than anything else — a prejudice I was privileged to hold as the eldest of our parents’ three children. So having my sleep interrupted by such an incredible claim, coming from Nemesis No. 1, just made me angry. I was much less forgiving then!

Nevertheless, he was persistent and continued to try and get me out of bed.

My father worked in midtown Manhattan then, my mother in central New Jersey. In our den, we had a decent sized television with DirecTV and a sound system appropriate for a small dance club. Now lying awake in bed, I could hear my brother and sister watching the news downstairs. I still didn’t believe that anything had happened but was curious to know what had gotten them up and watching the news, so I got out of bed and walked down the stairs into the living room.

From there I could clearly see on the screen the faces of people in shock, people in tears, people running, and a building in flames. Shortly after, I watched as the second plane flew into the first building’s twin. Despite witnessing the event, there was still a certain amount of incredulity that kept me from having any real response. It was an unreal scenario, outside the realm of the possible, and it didn’t make any sense.

Then my mother called to tell us that she was coming home from work, and that we should stay there. The phone lines into Manhattan were jammed and we were unable to get in touch with my father. And that was when everything became “for-real real”.

***

I came out to my family in a 1999 letter written specifically to them. My mother bugged me for weeks about what I wanted for my birthday — her firstborn was turning 20. I told her that what I wanted for my birthday was to give my family a gift, and that that was all I needed. It must have been quite a shock when I delivered my five-page letter, but I wasn’t there to witness it because I had left home, anxiety-ridden and with no game plan.

The letter eventually got around to revealing the fact of my sexuality, but the bulk of it served as written catharsis, finally exposing years of depression and religious angst revolving around unanswered questions, questions answered unsatisfactorily, and questions left unasked. Although it felt good to relieve the burden of a hidden sexuality, I still found it difficult to admit that I was unsure of my religious views. Unsatisfied with and even harmed by the dogma of our family’s particular brand of Christianity, and confused by much of its theology, I left the church. The only options for salvation were miserable-now-and-saved-for-eternity or content-for-now-and-damned-to-hell. I decided that I was an atheist, I didn’t need any organized religion, and my choice—my heresy—would seal my fate.

In 2000 I officially became a Unitarian Universalist. Atheism didn’t pan out, and I missed the community and the living religion only found when likeminded folks get together with common purpose. After much research, I landed in a UU church and believed I had found a new religious home. Initially, I took the introductory religious education courses offered, but didn’t really integrate myself too well into the life of the congregation. And then my nuisance of a younger brother woke me up with some story about a plane and the World Trade Center…

After the stresses of the day had waned, all my friends and family who worked in Manhattan were accounted for and I was grateful. My yearnings for the “spiritual food” my aunt insisted I needed a few years earlier began to grow, and I was eager to get more involved in Unitarian Universalism. Returning to the slightly-less-than-omniscient Internet, I stumbled across what was then a thriving group of lively UUs on the popular religion site Beliefnet.com. Using my newly inspired handle “ExPluribusUnum”, I there became acquainted with ChaliceChick, the Socinian, and several other people with whom I have enjoyed (sometimes intense) theological and ethical discussion. It was there that I first encountered the ubiquitous RobinEdgar.

I dove right into this new, exciting religious community, and was hooked. As my moniker suggested, I was convinced that human beings can coexist, and indeed that out of many nations we are one people with the same struggles and possibilities. The “9-11 attacks” were an affront to humanity itself, and in my mind the only spiritually appropriate response was to unite in godly love and combat the hatred that arises out of desperation, as we have forgotten the truth that we are all “God’s children”.

***

As 2002 began, and after a nasty car accident, I began riding New Jersey Transit’s Midtown Direct train into the City and attending services at the Fourth Universalist Society on the island’s Upper West Side. It was there that I met the Reverend Rosemary Bray McNatt, who had just begun her ministry there on Sunday, September 9; and the Reverend Nathan C. Walker, then 4th U’s interim Director of Religious Education, who lead a group for congregants in their 20s and 30s that I found most helpful.

At 30, I have now been a UU for longer than I attended the church of my teens. I love the openness, the community, the breadth of theologies, and especially the freedom (and expectation!) to question things — even God. Years later, now living in Baltimore, I can recall participating in a group at the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore called “Foundations”, in which we discussed what defines today’s Unitarian Universalism. I struggled with the concept of salvation, still carrying the baggage of heaven vs. hell in my spirit. One day, taking a break from work, I stopped to listen to some Bible radio — something I do on occasion to test, question, and strengthen my faith. Listening to the fire and brimstone preaching of this particular program, I remember being totally unattached to the rhetoric and having more of an intellectual curiosity than an emotional response. Eureka! That was the moment I truly stopped believing that God would condemn me to eternal damnation, and all I could feel was pity for the radio host. Universalism more so than (but not independent of) Unitarianism is the part of our heritage that really allows me to feel free, and to be free, awash in God’s love.

We are all one people, sharing the same little blue planet, on a common course through the universe and through history. And every year on September 11, I reflect on all of this personal history, and am convinced that becoming a Unitarian Universalist has saved me.

Eight years later we are stuck in multiple wars; and despite having elected the first Black president, tensions based on difference are heightened around the globe. Differences in race, class, ethnicity, and belief — these all make for a beautiful bouquet that should be honored and celebrated. This is something that Unitarian Universalism can do well, if we work at it.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had this to say:

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Violence and hate do not bring salvation. Only the Spirit of Love and of Life can do that. Unitarian Universalism was open to me when I needed to be loved, and I am forever grateful.

That is what September 11 reminds me every year.

May we share Love and create Peace wherever we go.

Amen.

Keepers of the Hall: Stewardship in a UU Context

This is the text of a talk I gave at my church on February 25, 2007, as part of our Stewardship Speakers Series, itself a part of our annual Canvass.

Some people said they liked it in other places I've posted it...so I figured I'd post it here and see what you think as well.

EPU

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Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the LORD of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.

Malachi 3:10, KJV

When Nola asked me to speak before the congregation as part of this speakers series, I said, "Sure!", having no doubt that I would eventually think of something useful to share with you this afternoon. And then I realized…that I would have to think of something useful to share with you this afternoon! What could I possibly have to tell you about stewardship? Well, what immediately popped into my mind was the verse that I read to you a little while ago, from the Old Testament book of Malachi. This verse was recited in the church of my youth on just about every Sunday, immediately before the offering was taken. In the language of the NIV: "Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the LORD almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it." Not only was there a single offering, but usually there were two—a tithing offering, and a special offering to raise funds for particular purposes. On certain occasions, there may even have been a third offering! Can you imagine a Sunday morning where the offering is taken, counted, and deemed insufficient enough for the minister to call for another round of giving? Right. And then afterwards came the doxology, or hymn of praise to God: Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise Him all creatures here below, praise Him above ye heavenly host, praise Father Son & Holy Ghost! Amen. When Nola approached me last week to ask what my topic today would be, I hadn't fully thought it out, but was haunted by this verse from Malachi, so I told her that I would be talking on Malachi today; but going back to the text, I realized that going over my juvenile understanding of what happened on Sundays in my old church would not be much help in explaining why I support this church today. For this reason, I will briefly touch on what this verse in Malachi meant to me and then move on to sources which have greater resonance in my life today, sharing readings from Sufi mystic Shamsuddin Muhammad (bka Hafiz, which means 'memorizer', and is an honorific bestowed upon those who can recite the entire Qur'an by heart), from the Tao Te Ching, and from our very own UU worship resource, the hymnal "Singing the Living Tradition".

First, let's return to Malachi. Understand first that I am no Biblical scholar, and that the following is simply my understanding of the text coupled with some historical background from the student Bible I used when I was younger. The book of Malachi is a portrait of a people who have grown lax in their faith. Having become well-to-do and comfortable, they have forgotten the origins of their practices and become careless in their worship and ritual. Eventually, their rites became empty, being performed by rote (and with some disdain) because of tradition, and void of any present meaning. In short, they couldn't see the point in what they did, so their heart was not in it. No one would flinch if their neighbor offered their most diseased cattle as an offering – it was no good to them anyway, and what was the point of giving their best to a God whose presence had grown more and more questionable. Why not keep the best, and give the leftovers? Oh, but the God of the Hebrew Bible is a jealous God, and was swift if reprimanding His people. Chapter 3 verses 6-7 says "I the LORD do not change. So you, O descendants of Jacob, are not destroyed. Ever since the time of your forefathers you have turned away form my decrees and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you," says the LORD Almighty. And then the calling for the tithe. A tithe means 1/10 of your possessions. I'm not sure whether verse 10 is some sort of statement of Biblical karma, but essentially God says to his people, "Give! So that I may give you! Go ahead and try it, and see how abundantly you will be blessed in return!"

It was from this context that I got my understanding of what it was to give at church. I actually had this image in mind: God really needed some money. Our job as Christians was to pay God. Every Sunday, we would give our offering, which would then be taken away to the storage room (aka 'storehouse'), where it would sit until God needed to make a withdrawal. Imagine – Donald's uncle, Scrooge McDuck, swimming through his piles of gold coins. And THEN, we got to sing a song thanking Him in his goodness for allowing us to give money that we couldn't afford, and for…God-knows-what purpose. It was such a mystery to me then, as was the whole idea of 'stewardship'. In my church, then, a Steward was one of several people with special ranking in the church. They had their own set of pews in the front near the altar. They all wore white [see note 1]. They had liturgical functions. I didn't know until later that they, or a subset of them, made the financial decisions for the church, or that they had other responsibilities and authorities. Honestly, I still don't know for certain what their exact roles were. They might have functioned in a way similar to our church's Board of Trustees, but I don't know. Ah, the mystery. In any case, the word steward is used rather differently in our Unitarian-Universalist tradition. We tend to see the word in its root meaning of "keeper of the hall", from the Old English stig (akin to the Modern English 'sty') meaning 'hall', and weard (related to ward, warden, guard, and guardian) meaning 'watcher' or 'keeper'. Here, we are all charged with the upkeep not only of our 'hall', this building, but with the upkeep of our community, and supporting it in its work to change the world. As you may have seen, we stewards of the church are encouraged to give a 'UU tithe' which is 5% to the church and 5% to other worthy causes. Personally, I think I've made it to 2% for church and 1% for others. But we are not competing against each other for the wink and nudge of a jealous God, we are here to do the work that is set before us, and each of us does what we can.

Despite my childish ignorance, I had always delighted in being able to give something when the plate was passed by me in churches of my youth. Like the other little children, I brought change (or else I was given some by my parents) that I could toss into the plate as it passed. It wasn't until much later when I began to question the purpose behind everything that I was told to do that I began to ponder the reasons for giving so much money that could be better used, in my opinion, for things other than sitting in a room waiting for God to come get it (what did He need the money for?). Not only did these thoughts occur to me, but I also began to notice what happened when you let the plate pass by you. You felt guilty. Everyone watched, and everyone knew if you didn't give. Giving was compulsory, if only because of the pang of guilt you would feel if you didn't participate. It's amazing to me in hindsight how important my perception of things was in the formation of my beliefs of how they were actually. But my perceptions were all I had, and because I didn't feel comfortable enough to question things openly, and no one was offering satisfactory answers to questions I couldn't pose, I became increasingly uncomfortable in the church. There were many reasons why I later decided to leave the church altogether; but essentially, my discomfort was my motivation.

Here's a short poem by Hafiz:

#198 Damn Thirsty

First the fish needs to say, "Something ain't right about this camel ride—and I'm feeling so damn thirsty."

So this is the point in the story where I realized that I was so damn thirsty. Not only did I then withdraw my giving (of my parents' money, yes, but my giving nonetheless), but I completely removed myself from the community. Upon finding out that I'd stopped going to church, my aunt, a Jehovah's Witness, chastised me. She was dumbfounded. "Adrian? Adrian doesn't go to church?" "Don't you know that you need that weekly spiritual nourishment?" The fact of the matter is that I didn't. As far as I was concerned, church gave me nothing and I repaid church in kind. But I was still so damn thirsty. Eventually I came to understand that there wasn't anything wrong, per se, with the camel ride. But being a fish leaves you ill-equipped, at best, for survival on such a journey. So I left the vast desert in search of a small pond.

Another poem by Hafiz:

#160 Now Is The Time

Now is the time to know that all that you do is sacred. Now, why not consider a lasting truce with yourself and God. Now is the time to understand that all your ideas of right and wrong were just a child's training wheels to be laid aside when you can finally live with veracity and love. Hafiz is a divine envoy whom the Beloved has written a holy message upon. My dear, please tell me, why do you still throw sticks at your heart and God? What is it in that sweet voice inside that incites you to fear? Now is the time for the world to know that every thought and action is sacred. This is the time for you to deeply compute the impossibility that there is anything but Grace. Now is the season to know that everything you do is sacred.

Everything you do is sacred; which brings me to the point of all my rambling storytelling. I, obviously, didn't stay away from church too long. I became a UU! And I occasionally would give…money…to churches I was involved in, yet I still didn't quite get it. Not until I joined FirstUnitarianChurch, right here in Baltimore, Maryland. Talk about finding a spiritual home! Well, I moved to Baltimore with a duffel bag full of clothing and a job waiting for me. Not much money at all; I was going to start over from scratch. After about 4 weeks I found my first apartment. After about 8 weeks here I joined the church. It was a last minute decision – I felt moved during the New Member Ceremony to get up and sign my name; and so I did, going through the Beginnings Class after the fact. I just knew in my gut that this was a community that I wanted to belong to. My very own little pond in which I could swim and grow and be free! I still didn't have much money, and in fact I often had to request assistance from my mother, or friends (maybe one of you…) to make it by from month to month. I gave the church $0. And I didn't feel bad about it. No one was here to judge me. In fact, I actually felt like people wanted me to be here. You all welcomed me in a way that I'd needed to feel welcomed in quite a long time. I quickly joined different classes, discussion groups, COMMITTEES! I began to weave my life into the fabric of the church, and to make the church an integral part of my life. The first live experience I had of a UU church was the Annual Meeting of the Unitarian Church of Montclair, NJ, in the early summer of 1999 I believe. It was such an eye-opener to see the membership of a church working out issues in the open, like electing officers and agreeing on the budget. These functions were out-of-sight, at least to me, in the UnitedMethodistChurch; and episcopal polity is just not considered as a topic for Sunday school, so I was clueless. In the UnitarianChurch (which has congregational polity), however, things were made clear to me. In our Beginnings class here, you learn that the money goes towards things like membership dues, bills, salaries and the like. The offerings are also taken for special projects, like our annual Thanksgivings appeals, and our relatively new Change-for-Change program. We can all see the benefits of our support. And the more support we have, the more we can do. The church benefits from all types of support, and I was as valued as a member before I gave monetary contributions as I am now that I do. I feel as though we are all strengthening the community with our time, talents, and treasures. And that is why I give. Because we are good stewards, we have been able to call a DRE (director of religious education), we have our first Ministerial Intern in years, we are growing in several ways, and there are so many opportunities[see note 2] for you to choose from in deciding what part you want to play. I feel privileged to be present at this exciting time.

How do I know that this is right for me? A reading from the Tao Te Ching:

#54

What is well planted cannot be uprooted. What is well embraced cannot slip away. Your descendants will carry on the ancestral sacrifice for generations without end. Cultivate Virtue in your own person, and it becomes a genuine part of you. Cultivate it in the family, and it will abide. Cultivate it in the community, and it will live and grow. Cultivate it in the state, and it will flourish abundantly. Cultivate it in the world, and it will become universal. Hence, a person must be judged as person; a family as family; a community as community; a state as state; the world as world. How do I know about the world? By what is within me.

How do I know what, or how much, to give? Two short readings from the back of the hymnal:

#457 Edward Everett Hale

I am only one.

But still I am one.

I cannot do everything,

But still I can do something.

And because I cannot do everything

I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

#463 Adrienne Rich

My heart is moved by all I cannot save: So much has been destroyed I have to cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.

In supporting this community, we help it to reconstitute the world. There need be no guilt, and I can honestly say that it gives me joy to do what I can for this congregation.

It is fitting that today's worship service focused on the telling of stories. Now that I have told you a few of mine, I will end by sharing a story I read in a book called Everyday Spiritual Practice: Simple Pathways for Enriching Your Life. It concludes the chapter on giving, and is a tale from the Jewish Talmud. But before I tell it to you, let's look at the word worship. It comes from Germanic roots meaning 'that condition of being worthy', and in a UU context, worship is what we do when we set aside time to actively assign worth to some idea or activity. As you listen to this story, think about what is most representative of this 'condition of being worthy', and decide for yourselves what type of steward you would like to be.

Time before time, when the world was young, two brothers shared a field and a mill. Each night they divided the grain they had grown together evenly. One brother lived alone, and the other had a large family. Now, the single brother thought to himself one day, "It isn't really fair that we divide the grain evenly. I have only myself to care for, but my brother has children to feed." So each night he secretly took some of his grain and put it in his brother's granary. But the married brother said to himself one day, "It isn't fair that we divide the grain evenly—because I have children to provide for me in my old age, but my brother doesn't." So he began every night to take some of his grain and put it in his brother's granary. Then, one night, they met each other halfway between their two houses, and they realized what had been happening. And then, what could they do but embrace each other in love? The legend is that God witnessed their meeting and proclaimed: "This is a holy place. And here it is that my temple shall be built." And so it was that the first temple was constructed in Jerusalem.

The author goes on to conclude the chapter, saying "If we understand that everyone is brother and sister to us, then we will always want to pour some of our grain into the granary of the world. And when we do—and where we do—that is a holy place".

May we assign worth to our values, to our stated principles, by living them out as these brothers did. May we be so generous in the giving of our gifts as to sustain this holy place, this beacon of hope, social justice and liberal religious values in Baltimore and in the world. I leave you with this thought, again from Hafiz:

#34 The Sun Never Says

Even after all this time the sun never says to the earth, "you owe me." Look what happens with a love like that, it lights the whole sky.

---

[note 1] Actually, they wore black, because they were supposed to be 'in mourning' for the church. I think they only wore white on Sundays that Communion was being taken, which made them stand out even more and which is why I remember them this way. It's been so long now that I can't rightly recall the details.

[note 2] This talk was given during an 'Opportunity Fair', where the church's different committees and groups had set up tables explaining their work, with the goals of increasing awareness and potentially gaining new members as a way to boost involvement.

My Religious Profile

repost from Beliefnet.com
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My religion is Unitarian-Universalist, because it is with this faith that I re-link my mind, body, and spirit, and it is with this faith that I feel whole.

My theology is panentheist, because I believe that everything exists within the divine whole, which is comprised of, and yet greater than everything that is. For example, if you put a bunch of limbs, nerves, organs, bones, etc. into a pile next to a living being, you have the same components, and yet a human being is something more than just a collection of all its parts.

My practice is pagan, in that I feel my most powerful spiritual connections to nature, natural cycles, and my natural human response to "the arts", particularly music and movement.

My beliefs are mystical, having been influenced by the more liberal aspects of the Christianity of my youth, but even moreso by the study of various faith traditions, which I began in my late teens. My thoughts on God and humanity, being intimately and inextricably related one to the other, are expressed very well in the poetry of Sufi mystics, such as Shamsuddin Muhammad ('Hafiz').

So, as you can see, I draw from many sources in my own personal experience. This is why my religion is Unitarian-Universalist. I believe in the unity and universality of experience, albeit with different modes of expression, and my chosen faith allows me to express that in my living.
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What religion did you leave to pursue UUism?
I spent my early childhood in a supposedly “non-denominational” (Christian Union) church, but my family left while I was still young and so I spent several years churchless. Most of my religious experience was with the United Methodist Church, from the time I was about 12 until I left for college at 18. I didn’t officially excommunicate myself until I was 19 or 20.
What do you miss, what don't you miss?
Being Black, the thing that I miss most is the enthusiasm of African-American worship services. The music, the clapping, the singing and shouting (and jumping and running…) of the service is something that I feel could spice up a UU service nicely! I need more kinetic energy; UUs seem (mostly) afraid to move in church. What I don’t miss is the dogma, the doctrines of the UMC, Christian theology being forced on me (I don’t mind it so much now, as long as I can disagree if necessary!), and most of all I don’t miss being closeted. I like being a happy healthy valued individual.
Why did you leave?
When I was in college I finally started my lifelong coming out process (to other people that is, I always knew I was gay so I didn’t have to come out to myself) and this greatly depressed me. Being depressed incapacitates you, so you don’t do much of anything, but that fact gives you lots of time to think. So I thought and thought and thought, and after returning home to attend services where I was told how gay people were sinners destined to the fiery lake, that did it for me. I never went back.
What brought you here (to Beliefnet)?
After a couple of years being a supposed atheist who was vehemently anti-(organized)religion, I began to do a lot of research on different faith traditions and eventually discovered Unitarian Universalism. I “converted” in 1999, and came to Beliefnet in 2001 days after the fall of the World Trade Center in Manhattan (I’m from North Jersey, about 25 miles west of Ground Zero). I needed a community that was accessible 24/7 to keep my mind going, and was pleased with what I found here. I was quite active for several years, but like many began drifting away a few years ago (hey, life comes fast sometimes!). I actually miss the community we had here back then, and now that I have a new computer I hope to post more frequently. I’d love to meet all the new(er) people, and perhaps catch up with some old friends.
Do you think of returning?
To the United Methodist Church? No, I don’t. I’m very happy as a UU, and I think I’d rather spice up the UU worship service than try to rationalize the UMC’s!