“Why I Am a Unitarian Universalist Christian”
The second sermon in an occasional series
by Reverend Charles Blustein Ortman
December 4, 2005
My sermon this morning, “Why I Am a Unitarian Universalist Christian,” is the second in an occasional series being presented throughout the course of this year. The earlier sermon was titled, "Why I am a Unitarian Universalist Spiritual Humanist" (click here to read that sermon). My intention is to view life as a Unitarian Universalist, through a number of theological perspectives, in ways that I hope will be of value to those of us who claim to be religious liberals embracing diversity and freedom of conscience in religious matters. Our faith tradition encourages us to look through different lenses with the hope of seeing larger glimpses of truth.
Since the title of each of these sermons begins with, “Why I am a Unitarian Universalist…” I’ll review here what I said in the first installment. I am a Unitarian Universalist because here I am not told what to believe but am asked what I do believe. And more, I am asked how that belief matters, not only in my own life, but in the world. I am asked here to accept things on faith, but on my faith—not someone else’s. I am a UU because I know my life’s path is a journey and while I don’t know just where it may lead or to what end, I do know that the content of my life consists of the experiences and choices that I make along the way. And I know that the quality of my life's journey is also closely related to the company I keep along the way. I am a Unitarian Universalist because this faith tradition calls me into community to make the most of, to do the best with, and to love the most fully I possibly can with the life I have been given. I am a Unitarian Universalist because I believe in the potential for human beings to learn and grow. And with that potential, I believe in the possibility of a better world, rooted more firmly in the ideals of truth, beauty, love and justice.
Why I am a Unitarian Universalist Christian… For several years I attended a three-day continuing education seminar, the Meadville/Lombard Winter Institute, held each February in Madison, Wisconsin. You have to appreciate the irony involved in this Unitarian Universalist institution choosing, on a permanent basis, one of the coldest, most snowbound locations possible for this annual event. You have to appreciate the irony because the weather itself was consistently not so amusing.
A few years back the theme of the Institute was on world religions; the speaker was Diane Eck, a preeminent scholar on the subject from Yale University. Despite the weather, I was pleased to attend because Dr. Eck's focus was to be on religious tolerance and interfaith cooperation. She began by identifying herself as a Methodist and was pleased to inform us that we UU’s would be comfortable with her approach because she too was a died-in-the-wool, religious liberal.
She then proceeded to introduce the gathering to various world religions that she obviously knew a great deal about: Buddhism, Hinduism and Islam, the Rissho Koseikai, the Jane's and others. She informed us about their customs and their beliefs, and she encouraged us strongly to practice our liberal claims to be tolerant and accepting.
By the mid-morning of the second day, I realized that Dr. Eck didn't have a clue with whom she was speaking. She thought that we were all like her, a group of liberal Christians. I had an opportunity to talk with her that day at lunch. "I'm wondering," I asked... "I'm wondering if we'll have the opportunity to address the biggest challenge that we UU’s have in our efforts toward religious tolerance and interfaith cooperation?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"We don't really have that much trouble," I assured her, "with embracing Buddhism, Hinduism or Islam. We can accept the Rissho Koseikai and the Jane's with usually graceful facility. We are masterful at affirming the esoteric and the exotic. What many of us are sometimes somewhat pathetic at though, is accommodating Christianity as a valid, authentic and worthwhile religious path."
"What do you mean?" she asked again.
"Most of our congregants come out of either a Jewish or a Christian family background," I explained. "Many of our Jewish members have rejected Judaism and many of our former Christian folks have rejected Christianity. What we need to hear about is how to go about accepting as authentic, at least for others, something that so many of us have rejected for ourselves."
I'm not sure if she didn't understand what I was asking or if maybe, from her point of view, she just didn't believe me. Either way, the focus of the seminar did not change, and the questions I'd asked went quite unanswered. But that doesn't mean that those questions weren't, nor that they still, are unimportant ones that we need not engage in answering. Indeed, if we are going to live up to our claim of religious tolerance, what better field is there in which for us to do our work?
Religious tolerance for many of us is most challenging close to home. It is up close where so many of us are personally challenged and where most of us often feel oppressed by the dominant tradition in our country's religious culture. This is especially true when the predominant expression of that tradition is as fundamentalist as it is today. But it is still true for many of us in relation to more liberal varieties of Christianity.
I won't be asking anyone to convert to Christianity today, not even as a Unitarian Universalist. I am asking you to embrace open-mindedness though, as we explore a topic that may be uncomfortable for some of us here. As Jesus said, in the Book of Matthew, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." And as he said in the Book of Mark, "Where your treasure lies, your heart will lie there, too.” Our task is to seek peace and to put our hearts where we would find the treasures that the world needs to claim. And so, today our theme is, "Why I am a Unitarian Universalist Christian."
I have to say that I often have something of an aversion to the use of labels altogether. But sometimes they’re valuable in providing us with a framework upon which to stretch our thinking. I also have to admit that I don't ordinarily consider myself to be a Christian, but mostly that's because of what I think that other people might think when they think about the word Christian. If I'm going to be honest though, I really am – at least to some extent – a UU Christian.
I'm the one responsible for defining what that means of course. I'm not at the mercy of those who would impose their definition upon me, not even yours. And the definition of Christianity that I would opt for is one that I think might be very similar to a definition Jesus might have come up with himself – a religion of Jesus, not a religion about Jesus. The religion that he sought to live out with his life and to teach with his parables was the religion of love your neighbor as yourself; the religion of the kingdom of heaven is within; the religion of if your enemies are hungry feed them, if they are thirsty, give them drink. His religion was one of community, of compassion and of bold action. It was a religion of oneness with self, with each other and with the world.
To me, these are the essence of Christianity. I have to think that Jesus would be sickened by the bastardization of his teachings through the deification of his life. He preached against idolatry. What a sad irony that he should become the object of it, that he should become deified and thus separated from the rest of humanity, when it was his complete oneness with humanity that was at the very core of his life and his teachings.
Jesus was a very good man, a great man. His message was simple, "Why can't we all just get along?" I don't suppose we'd deify Rodney King, and yet at least for one moment, Rodney King did speak out of the very same spirit from which Jesus had lived his life.
Let's take a crack then at defining or redefining, or even reclaiming the term Christianity or Christ spirit. A few weeks ago, I was with a few folks who'd gathered for one of the New UU adult religious education classes. One of the class members talked about being an agnostic, quite ambivalent about the need for or the existence of any kind of personal God. He said that he believed there was some kind of unifying spirit in the universe of which everything is a part, but that it was part of all things, not separate from ourselves or anything else, and certainly not a granter of wishes.
"That's not the way it is for me," said another member of the group. "I believe that we are all part of the same spirit," she agreed. "But when I'm struggling with my health or with other significant issues in my life, I pray to Jesus just like I did when I was a child. You can believe it or not, but I can assure you that he brings me comfort. I pray to Jesus for help... and what I get… is help. You can't tell me that Jesus doesn't exist," she insisted. "He's made an incredible difference in my life."
"So, how can it be?" They posed the question to me, "How could it be that this church can provide a place where two such diverse theological views can be at home?"
I told them that here, each of us is responsible for our own theologies. However, we might define them; that we tend to agree that we are part of something much larger than ourselves and to that something larger – whatever we might call it – we owe our awe, our gratitude and our service. I told them that, as a community, more important to us than what we believe, is what we do about and with our beliefs. And I told them that I didn't really see, from my own theological perspective, that their beliefs were at all mutually exclusive; different emphasis, yes, but not exclusive.
The universe exists; life exists. It doesn't have to, but it does. We could claim that that was an accident, but not even science supports such a claim. The laws of physics tell us that objects at rest tend to remain at rest. Nothingness – absolute nothingness – would, by this law remain nothing for... well… at least for eternity. And yet here we are; here everything is. We don't know what moved things along from nothingness into being. For a moment, let's call whatever it was, whatever it is, mystery.
Since before the beginning of time, some kind of mystery has caused and sustained life. Amazing! We may have an idea of what life is. We may even speculate how life continues. But we are never likely to know why life is. It is… we are… utterly amazing!
What I imagine about that mystery is that it was some kind of universal and want to be, a want so strong that nothingness gave way to all that is and all that is becoming. So, this mystery, this want, this spirit, fractured – BANG, BIG BANG – and became a part of all that is. Science can’t tell us why, but it does indicate that evidence of this spirit can be observed on every level of life, from the micro to the macro, to the cosmic. Every living cell, every living being and every living system constantly adjusts to inner and outer conditions in order to balance the forces of life so that life can continue.
Science tells us that life and the systems of life will always respond in a manner that promotes the continuation of life. Folk singer Mary Chapin Carpenter sings, "... life goes on, when given the slightest chance." Martin Luther King, Jr. referred to the same phenomenon when he said, "The moral arc of the universe is long, [and] it bends toward justice."
From time immemorial, which in the scheme of things is not very long, humankind has struggled to be in relationship with this mystery, this Spirit of Life. Individuals, communities and entire cultures have given it names and have affixed it to images. And then we have sought to be in close relationship with it; we have sought to be in the presence of this mystery through the portals that we have created with the names and images that we have used to define it. If Jesus provides entry to this Spirit of Love, this universal spirit of healing and wholeness for the woman who was in the New UU class, who am I or who are any of us to question the validity of that spiritual claim?
And why not Jesus? What greater, prophetic manifestation of the Spirit of Life and Love might we look to for comfort, for learning, for example, or for inspiration? Certainly there have been others, but very few who have left us so much. Jesus lived and taught about love and mercy, about justice and right relationship, about forgiveness, sacrifice and redemption. He was an inspiration to those around him. He continues to inspire the world, despite those who claim godly knowledge of his divinity and then go on to act in self-serving ways that are antithetical to everything he stood for.
There's an interesting theological side-point here that I would be remiss to omit. For many Christians, especially many liberal Christians, there is a distinction between Jesus the person and the Christ. Jesus was the very human being who led the daring and prophetic life that ended with his death on the cross. Christ was the spirit – no longer humanly embodied – that rose up from the tomb on Easter.
The Christ spirit was (and according to that tradition still is) composed of the idealization of all the virtues and principles Jesus had lived by and had taught. The Christ spirit carried with it all the hopes and aspirations of humankind, all of our greatest longings for wholeness and unity. In the terms I was using just a moment ago, no longer bound by physical limitations, the Christ spirit had become a principle conduit to that healing, loving, sustaining, mysterious energy that has held us in being throughout time.
While I believe in the same or a very similar religion to what I think Jesus believed in, and while – even though it may not be my first choice – I have no problem accepting the use of the word Christ to invoke the mystery that brought and has held us in being. Where I have to draw a boundary line in my definition of Christianity though, is where it comes to the issue of exclusivity. While, by my own definition (yet perhaps no one else's) I may be Christian, I can't begin to find value for myself in the notion that this is the only or even the best path for spiritual fulfillment or the intentional life. A valuable path? Yes, but not the only one. I'll save my fidelity for that which holds the possibility for the greatest unity and the widest universality.
And what of my relationship with those for whom Jesus is THE WAY, the one true light? Far be it from me to assume that I have found the answers to the questions that have mystified humanity from our earliest awakenings. Jesus was here to promote the possibilities of goodness. I can be right there with Christians who live lives inspired by his high ideals and compassionate mercy. There are more important considerations to spend our life energy on than splitting theological hairs. We have too much work to do.
We need to heal the sick and bind up the wounded. We need to visit those in prison, not kill them. We need to recognize that every man, woman and child is our neighbor, to love our neighbor as ourselves, to learn how to make peace, not war, with all our neighbors. We need to care for those less fortunate than ourselves. We need to learn how to give and how to forgive. We need to learn that love is a gift, not to be judged by others, but to be cherished by all. We need to recognize that the Earth is our body and our blood, that we need to learn how to poison ourselves no longer.
"The reign of God is not coming as you hope to catch sight of it,” reads the Book of Luke. “No one will say, ‘here it is’ or ‘there it is,’ for the reign of God is in your midst..." Our task is to find the reign of God, to find the possibilities of goodness, to find whatever means wholeness and life-giving to each of us, to find it and to promote it. And where we do not find it, our task is to create it. That's what Jesus did. That is what is here for us to do.
|
