There is an ironic comparison that could be made about religion. Religion is very simple, it’s the people that make it complicated. Religion is simple, it’s the people that make it complicated. As a way of lifting up what I mean by religion’s simplicity I want to read to you a definition of religion that was written by one of our newest members of the congregation, Richard Loftin. “Religion is a way to organize and focus people on a continuing conversation about truth, justice and love in order to foster the spiritual development of the individual and community as a whole.”

Does any one here find they are in disagreement with this definition? I myself find it pretty unassailable. Now because we are Unitarian Universalists we might want to argue about it as a matter of principle. But I really don’t think that religion itself is all that complicated. Perhaps you might want to restate for yourself Richard’s words but I don’t think they would be all that radically different. I suppose someone could base a religion, not on truth, justice and love but instead on superstition, cruelty and suspicion. Oh wait a minute, you might think, some religions are like that!

Well, that’s not really true. Someone’s ardent truth is someone else’s superstition. And human beings have sometimes determined that the love of God required cruelty to fellow human beings. And suspicion of the “unclean,” the “unsaved,” the “infidel,” or t he “heretic” is often a badge of honor sign signifying devotion to one’s co-religionists. Bill Moyers tells this instructive tale about his own religious community, American Baptists.

There is a man about to jump off a bridge when another man runs up to him, crying: “Stop. Stop. Stop. Don’t do it.”
The man on the bridge looks down and asks, “Why not?”
“Well, there’s much to live for.”
“Like what?”
“Well, your faith. Are you religious?”
“Yes.”
“Me, too. Christian or Buddhist?”
“Christian.”
“Me, too. Are you Catholic or Protestant?”
“Protestant.”
“Me, too. Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist?”
“Baptist.”
“Me, too. Are you original Baptist Church of God or Reformed Baptist Church of God?”
“Reformed Baptist Church of God.”
“Me, too. Are you Reformed Baptist Church of God Reformation of 1820, or Reformed Baptist Church of God Reformation of 1912?”
“1912.”
Whereupon the second fellow turned red in the face, shouted, “Die, you heretic scum,” and pushed him off the bridge.
(plenary address by Bill Moyers, National Conference on Media Reform, Memphis, TN. Jan 12, 2007)

This is actually a very serious concern. As we recently witnessed events in Mumbai, religion can sometimes be a very deadly source of the opposite of what we hope it proclaims. Everyone imagines that religion should be about truth, justice and love. But you will find in the founding texts of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam words which support peace among all people and texts which suggest that those with the wrong kind of faith are not to be tolerated. Even Jesus, who is most often thought of as a pretty meek and mild, loving to the max kind of prophet, is described as agreeing with Isaiah’s prediction that the Temple of Jerusalem would be destroyed and that the unfaithful would be tormented harshly by God in the end of times. You might sometimes suggest to those who speak in dripping tones about the family values of the New Testament remind them of the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 8, verse 21 in which a disciple asks Jesus’ permission for a leave of absence so he can bury his father. Jesus replies, “Follow me and leave the dead to bury their own dead.” That’s a little harsh. Or consider Chapter 10, verse 34 through 36. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and a man’s foes will be those of his own household.” Come to think of it, there are some families that do practice those values.

Of course, very few Christians kill gays and lesbians out of faith—but a few do. And very few Jews kill Palestinians as an act of faith—but a few do. And very few Muslims kill Americans as an act of faith—but a few do. An important question for us—is there something intrinsic about religion that inevitably leads to these forms of violence or are such terrible episodes examples of some kind of mental error that spoils what would otherwise be a force for good? If it is intrinsic then I would be the first among you to insist that we stop having anything to do with religion. But I’m pretty sure that the error is not intrinsic. No one has been able to make the case that religion inevitably leads its followers to commit acts of violence. Yet because the violence persists we need to understand how the error is made. Human beings are not going to stop practicing religion any time soon and the opportunities for friction between different religions traditions are only going to increase as our populations grow and our isolation from each other disappears in the increasingly interconnected and interdependent world.

The first clue to understanding what may be the source of the error is derived from the fact that religion, as it is practiced, is not solely focused on the matter of supporting truth, justice, and love. That is, there are other goals or needs which religion sometimes serves. And it could be the case that these other human needs make religious practice infinitely more complicated and muddy the waters. Perhaps such complications can sometimes divert the faithful’s attention away from the matters of truth, justice, and love. At the very least it seems clear that many different mental states can greatly color the lens that people use in expressing their faith. Anger, fear, and envy have been known to turn every beautiful sentiment of religion into its evil twin, contorting compassion and affection into resentment and judgment.

This is the point at which we might think, “Well, all we have to do is to get other people to stop making these kinds of errors and then we can have a world at peace.” And indeed, it has been common for Unitarian Universalists to imagine that if religion could be purified of such contaminating elements then we would be good to go. But as central as this insight may be we have to be extremely cautious. Unless we are very careful we may end up unintentionally perpetuating the very same error which we wish to expunge. One way of thinking about the men on the bridge in Bill Moyers’ amusing anecdote is that they too may be counted among those who seek to remove error from their expression of truth, justice and love. That is, proponents of the Baptist Reformation of 1912 must have thought they were removing errors from the Reformation of 1820. I know that many of you are reluctant to think of your faith as being comparable to that of any Reformed or unreformed Baptists—which may well prove my point.

There is another way of looking at how the waters may become muddied when it comes to living out a dream of truth, justice, and love. Imagine the following conversation over the breakfast table. “Hey sweetie, how about we finally start focusing on those tough existential issues of truth, justice and love?”

“Well sure, honey. How do we do that?”

“I think we can get to work on those right now by attending Emerson Unitarian Universalist Church right here in Houston.”

That is not a very likely conversation. It might strike you as a little overblown to think that you, yes you, can usher in a world more easily characterized by truth, justice, and love. Most of us are a wee bit more modest and perhaps more concrete in our expectations. We may have children to raise and imagine that a religious community could help with that. Do we do that here? To quote someone recently famous, “Yes we can!” You might feel a little isolated, stuck in some lonely ruts and imagine that at the very least a religious community can offer friendship. And again the congregation replies, “Yes we can!” Or you might have experienced some tough transition in life and feel that it might be helpful to navigate those waters with good company. And again the congregation replies, “Yes we can!” Or you might imagine that the material things of your life are no longer quite as fascinating as you once thought they would be, that there’s a kind of emptiness of meaning in your life that seeks a greater sense of fulfillment and that maybe a religious community could help with that. And again, the congregation replies. “Yes we can!”

A congregation has to be attentive to these realities but by themselves are problematic definitions of what a church should be about. And where exactly is the problem? You might think that a church should be about satisfying these very understandable human needs. Well of course. But if we stop there we are in for some trouble, some major muddiment of the waters. Why?

Let’s say that after you feel some degree of comfort you agree to volunteer for something. Such a step seems reasonable. But this is what you will experience when you volunteer for something. You will discover that it is very hard to see how the volunteering connects with the things that brought you here in the first place. And the greater the degree of responsibility you take on, the more remote seems to be the connections. Volunteering for something involves taking on an obligation that will not always help you raise your children, will not always help you make friends, will not always provide the company you need, will not always help reduce the feelings of emptiness inside. Sometimes volunteering is not much more than a pain in the rear. Sometimes volunteering makes you feel worse—not better. Sometimes volunteering is a perfect means of helping you feel even more guilty than you already do. Sometimes some of your fellow volunteers will be a royal pain in the rear. Sometimes you will think, “Why did I ever agree to do this, like my life wasn’t already complicated enough!”

This is the point in the sermon where I hope to God the nominating committee has already found all of its nominees for next year’s elected positions. But I will not end this on this honest yet somewhat discouraging note. You see, even though that imaginary conversation about truth, justice and love I described earlier is extremely unlikely, truth, justice, and love form the raison d’etre for the congregation. In fact, everything that we do around here serves this raison d’etre. Yes, we are helping you find companions, yes we are helping you address the feelings of meaningless in your own life, yes, we are helping you raise your children—but what we are really doing is deepening and expanding—creating the realm of truth, justice and love. The promotion of these three is the real reason why this church is here. A worship service is not constructed to serve as a kind of therapy session. Our classes for children youth and adults are not created simply to make you smarter. All of these address our very real situations in life so that we may each more capably help expand the realm of truth, justice, and love. And what each of us need to understand is that our success and failure as a congregation do not depend primarily on whether we are friendly enough or have enough good programs to help you make it through your life. Our success and failure as a congregation is really measured by whether or not the realm or truth, justice, and love has expanded or contracted—on our watch.

Now you might think, “Ouch. Can’t I just be an usher?” Or, “Don’t look at me—I’m just a member of the choir. I’m not an expander of truth, justice and love. I’m a singer.” Or, “I’m just a teacher in religious education,” or, “I’m just pulling weeds on the side yard,” or “I’m just a member of the Board of Trustees,” or “I’m just chair of the Membership committee, a greeter, a webmaster, on the personnel committee, the adult education committee. I’m on the Finance Committee, the Stewardship Committee. No, don’t look at me. I’m not really responsible for expanding the realm of truth, justice and love—uh, uh not me.”

Oh yes you are. Yes you are. And you do create that expansion when you lend a hand. Your only error was not recognizing that all these details must be accomplished so that truth, justice, and love may flourish and not dissipate under the entropy of our ordinary lives.

Those of you who have volunteered might not recognize the real nature of your task. You who have volunteered might be far more acquainted with the limitations and the frustrations than with what might seem like airy fairy stuff. But there is a very simple explanation why volunteering in a Unitarian Universalist congregation is no guarantee that your life will suddenly become filled with sweetness and light. This is the very fine print that is on the back of the membership contract. Expanding the realm of truth justice and love is precisely the hardest work you will ever encounter. It is harder than being a rocket scientist. It is harder than raising children, it is harder than being in a committed relationship. And I should not neglect to mention, the hours are lousy and the pay stinks. And I should also mention, as an aside that expanding the realm of truth, justice and love is harder than discovering the correct belief about God, (ranging from “does” to “does not” exist), or devising the near perfect theological formula. Such traditional efforts are spiritual shortcuts that, well, don’t work. Expanding the realm of truth, justice, and love takes more work than that kind of mental heavy lifting.

Considering the working conditions I can see why many neglect to identify the real nature of the task but that is in fact is exactly what you are doing. Yes we each can get lost in the details of what we have become committed to do. It requires an act of discipline to keep foremost in your consciousness the awareness of your true volunteer position—defender and promoter of truth, justice, and love.

The two readings this morning lead to my final point. First, when we become acquainted with the work of the spiritual giants in our past we may feel a little extra feeling of pride welling up within us. You look over our past and you noticed that the decades are choked with geniuses. This congregation is named after one of them. Ralph Waldo Emerson. What an amazing person! What glorious insights he described. What bravery of spirit he displayed as he took on the demagogues and dogmatists of his day. Why he was even part of the underground railroad. Amazing. But you see, he would be the very first person to assert that it is not really important that we be named after him. What he would insist upon is that we be like him. His name on our buildings should not be source of comfort but a source of challenge.

I can see how relieved you are, “Oh, that’s all I have to do, be like Emerson. Hah, hah, hah.” You look at your own life and think, “Really! Are you out of your mind, preacher Mark?” Well, you don’t have to become a world class lecturer. You don’t have to completely reformulate western religious tradition. But there is one quality of his which you must emulate if you are to be a part of this religious community. In fact, it is the quality which has distinguished our religious movement from its inception right down to this very day. Through the ages Unitarian Universalists have always repeated, “If ever I said in grief or pride, I tired of honest things, I lied.” Honest things have always been the touchstone of our faith. We may not always be perfect in this Indeed no one can be. Real and useful honesty is very hard work and surprising in its complexity. We will tire from time to time. But two things are probably true. First, you undoubtedly over-estimate your talents for disguising your doubts, concerns, hopes and dreams. And it is not unusual, in this regard, for “truth” to be a disguised form of some other unrecognized doubt, concern, hope, or dream. Second, and this is absolutely certain, it does no good whatsoever to try and fool the universe with any kind of pretension or mental trickery.

Unitarian Universalists have always felt that of all the arenas of life, religion is the one where it is necessary to be as honest as you can stand to be. Dishonesty creates meaninglessness, creates injustice, creates false affection, creates despair, creates unreality. Honesty does the opposite. So that’s the one simple thing we ask of you. Be honest with yourself, with others. Do that, and you will be counted among those who take up that long long task of building up the realm of truth, justice, and love.