You might consider this sermon to be Bill Pugh’s fault. Well, not exactly, but it did start with an email he sent last spring. I have Bill’s permission to quote:
“A lot of UUs tend to assume that Unitarian Universalism is superior to many other religious traditions, and that many other people would become UUs if only they understood Unitarian Universalism better. But in this marketplace of ideas, UU has done fairly poorly over the centuries, with no sign of any recent changes . . . Perhaps [this tradition] doesn’t serve most people well. If we take this proposition seriously, what does this say about us and Unitarian Universalism?”
Umm. Yes. Well, I sat with this for a while. What are you going to do?
Bill cites columnist David Brooks, whose balanced perspective I’ve come to respect over the years:
The religions that grow, succor and motivate people to perform heroic acts of service are usually theologically rigorous, arduous in practice and definite in their convictions about what is True and False.
Well, that’s depressing.
Except, when you consider the non-growth of Unitarian Universalism over the past decades . . . when you realize that, with a few notable exceptions, our congregations are at best holding their own . . . when you note that overall enrollment in our religious education programs has declined . . . and then remember the general doldrums that characterize “main line” religions . . . well, okay . . . it’s depressing.
It would be so much easier to turn our backs on Brooks’ argument. To spin explanations out of on demographics or sociology. My colleague, the Rev. Judith Walker-Riggs, once said that the besetting sin of Unitarian Universalism was triumphalism.
The absolute certainty that the world has it wrong, and in matters of religion, we’re the ones who are right. But what are we missing? Are we really just rearranging our deck chairs the Titanic of our faith?
Not wise, folks. Any living organism must adapt in order to thrive.
You may have heard about the visitor to one of our congregations, who kept calling out during the sermon: “Amen!” “Preach it, sister!” By the time she got to “Hallelujah!” one of the ushers was right there, touched her arm. “Are you all right, ma’am?” “I’m fine, brother! I’ve just got religion!” “Well, good God, lady,” said the usher, “You didn’t get it here.”
You didn’t get it here. And yet we, some of us, we say we want to grow. Or if we don’t want that, we want to see more young families. Or more diversity. Or at the very least, we want to plug the membership decline. And we’d like to get there, most of us, without having to change.
It’s a view that shows up in one of my favorite movies, the one about the highly gifted pig called “Babe.” With the advent of an eager and intelligent porker, it’s clear that change is in the air. Some animals, like the duck, are ready. But far more echo the complacency of the cow who insists, “The way things are, is the way things are.”
In UU congregations, I’ve sometimes heard this said, “the way things are, is the way things have to be.” Like that cow, we forget -- any living organism must adapt in order to thrive.
Change, of course, is unnerving, at least for most of us. But it’s said that one definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. If we want a different outcome . . . if we want to thrive in the coming decades, then Unitarian Universalism – and this congregation – needs to think carefully about what we’re willing to change.
And it doesn’t hurt to look at what’s working for other folks along the way.
Take Evangelicalism, for example. Incredibly fast growing. Attracting young families like bears to a honey tree. We, most of us, don’t share their theology. We sometimes get really cross with the ways they try to impact the world. But by any measures you can use, Evangelical Christianity is a success story. And it’s not just about their theology.
Consider this. You got up this morning. You went through whatever easy or difficult process you needed to get ready to leave. You got here, most of you, okay. You’re sitting here in these almost-straight rows of chairs. And I’m up here on what I call the chancel and some prefer to call the “stage.” But anyway, I’m up here and you’re out there, sort of an audience-and-performance kind of thing.
And it makes me wonder. Does what happens here engage you? . . . Does it stir your heart and inspire your mind? . . . Does it connect you more deeply to your values? Give you solace? . . . . . . Courage to deal with the complexities of your days?
Do the activities here help you make sense of the world and what you believe?
Do you go home feeling stronger, more ready to try to be a positive force for justice and change?
I say to you that these – more than the specifics of theology – these are the defining marks of a dynamic religious community. People come together with a sense of passionate engagement. . . There’s a cross-generational energy that shows up in deep and enduring ways . . . People feel valued. They’re are willing to be bold -- to stand up and be public about what they believe and what they value . . . about who the congregation is, and what it does in the world.
But even SAYING “evangelicalism” makes most of us nervous. As I mentioned at the congregational retreat, there’s good reason that Unitarian Universalists are included under the rubric of “God’s frozen people.”
Let’s face it, the majority of us are “come outers.” We’ve come to UU from another or from no other faith tradition. As my colleague Barbara ten Hove, a birthright UU, notes with some acerbity, our general story has been one of exodus, the metaphor of leaving. In words from a Dierks Bentley song, “free and easy down the road we go,” and we give the message that, for us, religion is something to be left behind.
Where did we miss the fact that the very word, RELIGION comes from “re-ligio,” to bind or connect to the roots. The roots of what is important, my friends – and for the human species, what is important is what is shared.
Unitarian Universalists have institutionalized the Enlightenment premise that religion is too personal to discuss . . . In the name of privacy and individualism, we’ve laced our collective spirits into a corset . . . But like the dancing ladies of an earlier era, that which is too tightly bound is ultimately liable to faint. What poet Anne Sexton said about joy works for faith as well -- the beliefs that are not shared are likely to die young.
But, like stubborn weeds, our prejudices abide. Sharing beliefs, we say, is easy for Evangelicals They’ve got creeds, and a single scripture whereas UUs, as the minister said a couple of weeks ago, we are intentionally creedless. True, but my point is that, whether or not it’s easier, every Evangelical Christian knows and can articulate exactly what he or she believes. And those beliefs give them energy for engagement with life. Whether we like it or not, human values are tempered and deepened in cauldron of community. In fact, it can be easy to give difficult concepts a miss if you never have to say anything out loud. We can get away with not knowing what we believe, past maybe a headline or three. We can certainly sidestep the hard work of pondering why, or how, our beliefs connect with our work, or our lives.
Let me ask – on some of life’s harder issues, not just on politics . . . can you say, briefly and clearly, what you believe? Issues like dying . . . and evil . . . and forgiveness . . . Can you explain why?
* Have you lifted your convictions into the light of day and figured out what, if anything needs to change?
* Have you talked with others about how our UU principles affect the way you go about your days?
* Or, and I say this with great gentleness – is it easier for you to talk, even talk at length, about what you do not believe?
In case I haven’t been clear enough, let me summarize: One reason Evangelicalism is thriving is because people are expected to be clear on, and willing to share about, this whole business of what they believe. This kind of personal risk-taking deepens the spirit, builds community, and sends off a tremendous message of attraction to those who are considering being involved.
Our tradition, on the other hand, has spiritually constrained itself for generations – and, at least partly in consequence, ours has achieved an increasingly small faith footprint, a far less influential place, in the world.
I’m saying that it’s time for a change.
I’m saying it’s time, not just for the minister up here in the pulpit, but for you, and you, and you . . . to take the risk of being vulnerable. The risk of saying to someone you respect, someone you care about, someone you’d like to know better . . . THIS is what I believe about x.
Then the most important thing, as you appreciate this other person in his or her uniqueness. You ask without expecting agreement, “My friend, how about you?”
I wonder: What creative outcome would be born if, from the midst of our diversity, we agreed, “Hey, maybe this is something we could do?”
PAUSE
Another aspect, what I want to call our BUSY-NESS. Those of you who’ve been here any length of time, I can hear you thinking. BUSY-NESS. River Road has that nailed. Layers and layers and layers of congenital busy-ness.
Hands up everyone who over the past 12 months has served on the board . . . on a committee . . . taught RE? sang in the choir? . . . attended a social event . . .worked on the Fellowship dinner? participated in a worship service . . . or a social justice project? Attended CC&C?
Have you ever got so busy that you just kind of threw up your hands when someone tried to suggest something new? [I have.}
Constraining busy-ness is one of the things for which we need red tape. And at the same time, it can be that being incredibly busy is just another way of keeping innovation at bay.
I wonder: How often do we stop and ask, what is this for?
WHAT IS THE LARGER PURPOSE SERVED BY OUR BUSY-NESS?
· Let me be clear – the question is not why should I work for justice – but how does this particular task connect with our values and principles?
· How does my assignment for this committee connect with the purpose of this faith community?
· What’s the why behind teaching religious education . . . pulling weeds in the garden . . . straightening closets . . . making a banner . . . working the Bazaar . . .
WHY DO WE DO THIS? What larger purpose is being served?
I can’t help wondering – is it possible that some of the things we do are really just getting in our way? It’s true – the most powerful correlate of organizational stuck-ness is a single sentence: “BECAUSE WE’VE ALWAYS DONE IT THAT WAY.”
People in thriving churches are PASSIONATE.
PASSION is the ability to look at anything you are doing – or that you ask someone else to do – and be clear about WHY.
PASSION, you see, is activity connected to purpose.
PASSION IS WHAT COMES FROM BEING CLEAR AND TRULY LIVING WHAT YOU BELIEVE.
Do we dare? If the frozen people started to thaw, what energy would be released?
What if we – what if this congregation – were to embrace a little chaos, to realize that the doors of tomorrow are open only for those willing to change.
Thanks, Bill, for the challenge. And oh, for you who who’ve been wondering: the twitter version of this sermon - 13 words: CLARITY, CONNECTION, & PASSION. Risks worth taking, in UU and for the world.
That's it. Amen and Blessed be.