Reading        William Ellery Channing

We must shun the spirit of sectarianism as from hell. We must shudder at the thought of shutting up God in any denomination. We must think no one better for belonging to our communion; no one is the worse for belonging to another. We must look with undiminished joy on goodness, though it shine from the most adverse sect. God’s spirit must be equally dear and honored, no matter where manifested. To confine God’s love or God’s good spirit to any party, sect, or name, is to sin against the fundamental law of God’s realm and breaks that living bond with the universal religious community which is one of our chief helps to perfection. What I wish is, that we should learn to regard ourselves as members of that vast spiritual community, as joint-heirs and fellow-worshipers with the goodly company of religious heroes who have gone before us. Our nature delights in this consciousness of vast connection. This tendency manifests itself in the patriotic sentiment, and in the passionate clinging of people to a great religious denomination. But its truest and noblest gratification is found in the deep feeling of a vital, everlasting connection with the universal congregation, with the innumerable multitude of the holy on earth.

Sermon

Becky and I have been talking a lot this year about the ingredients that go into the formation of a clarity of purpose for Emerson. When we returned from our sabbatical we said in that very first sermon that we believed that coming to grips with a clarity of purpose was essential to our future well being as a congregation. If nothing else, a sense of purpose provides a sense of direction. Without that—we will drift along, not ever able to tell if we were ever closer to where we wanted to be. Unitarian Universalism often talks about faith being a “journey.” But if faith is a journey, discerning that one is getting anywhere depends upon having some idea about where you intend to go.

Some in the congregation became enthusiastic about the idea of clarifying our purpose as a congregation. They hoped to see that clarity proclaimed, soon—the sooner the better. Others were worried, perhaps thinking, “What if the proposed purpose is one with which I disagree? What would I do then?” Most have reserved judgment, waiting to see what might come out of the effort to achieve a clarity of purpose.

Part of what lingers around the edges of the talk about clarity of purpose concerns the setting of limitations and boundaries. In the simplest sense, if a congregation intends to go in some direction that means that other destinations are foreclosed. And even though most of us can acknowledge, theoretically, that we can’t go in all directions at once, or go in contradictory directions, the idea of closing off some directions might raise a few eyebrows. Unitarian Universalists as a group tend to like to keep their options open. Clarity of purpose, among other things, means that some options are clearly no longer open to us. So when we hear something along of the lines of clearly choosing one direction over another, we may experience something of a surge of our anti-authoritarian instincts. Some of us might think, “Hey what about freedom to believe? Doesn’t choosing some direction over another mean that some beliefs are clearly second rate?” And what happens if the proposed clarity of purpose is something which makes one uneasy or is a purpose with which one disagrees? Then there is the other side of the coin, the ever present suspicion of “group think.” Indeed, we prize the insight of the individual and can easily imagine that the individuals who choose not to go along with whatever a group decides are the sorts of people that we admire. Here at least we like to think that we can march to the beat of a different drum!

But are we just marching around in random circles? So again, is clarity of purpose possible for us? I think it is. Yet it is important not to underestimate the difficulty of this project. I once heard a story about a rather perceptive kid who, when asked what he wanted for his birthday replied, “I want a magic wand, and I want one that works!” It’s easy to get a magic wand and it’s easy to state a purpose. But getting a purpose that actually works—that’s clearly a tougher case. Thankfully I believe that lifting up a successful purpose is not impossible such as is the case with a magic wand that works. Achieving clarity of purpose is only merely very difficult.

As yet another step on the way of clarifying a sense of purpose I would like to address the matter of being confined, of our ability to reach some level of agreement about anything, which agreement would then mean that some things are beyond the pale of that agreement and were therefore unacceptable to our faith community. I like you, am a great admirer of independence of thought. That, somewhat ironically, is at least something on which we can agree. But I think we can also agree that not all thoughts are equally admirable. And a great source of information for being able to thoughtfully sort out the wheat from the chaff can be found from our history as a faith community. That is, over the centuries of our existence there are some things which we have consistently held in common. These long standing themes are important—and form a foundation without which this religious community could not stand. They have shaped us, whether we acknowledge it or not, and they do confine us, whether we like it or not. And if you found yourself in disagreement with these long standing themes of our religious community, it would be hard to argue that you are still recognizably a Unitarian Universalist. You might be something else, which might be perfectly fine.

The themes of this foundation are taken from the reading from William Ellery Channing, champion of Unitarianism in the early 1800's. Sectarianism was, from Channing’s point of view, a failure of religious imagination. Taking a cue from the German philosopher Immanuel Kant, he believed that in some way or another religion had to be universal. That is, if a religion cannot be true for all people, then it is not true enough. Channing believed in something he called the “universal church” whose precepts and insights where just that—universal. Somehow or other, people, he imagined, must come to some understanding about their commonality. This did not mean that everyone was the same. But it did mean that underneath all the distinctions there existed something called “human nature” which was true whether you lived in Cambridge, Kampala, or Karachi.

Of course, Channing’s horizon was considerably more limited than is ours today. He was probably more comfortable in thinking that the people of Canton and Cambridge, two towns in Eastern Massachusetts, shared a universal humanity. But his mistaken geography is not a mistake in theology. We might think it was a comparatively easy task to speak about a common human nature in the nineteenth century and that today we are instead surrounded by an increasingly virulent sense of distinction. But the fact that the apparent differences among human beings are so much more apparent today only serves as compelling evidence of how greatly increased is the necessity of lifting up some sense of what is universal about human beings. Right now we as a species are experiencing grave difficulties because it is increasingly important that we all be able to cooperate. But what we find instead is that competition is furiously outpacing cooperation. As long as a sense of the universal eludes our understanding, we will not be able to forge a sense of what interests all human beings mutually hold, what interests form a common interest.

Of course, many religions that have begun in the last several thousand years believe that they are the true universal religion. And thus they each make some effort to claim their natural prerogative as a superior faith and in some cases make great efforts to convert the unconvinced. You may have noticed this past week that a Christian soldier in Iraq profoundly irritated some Iraqis by handing out little coins that reminded the recipient that there was no salvation without Christ. And you may have noticed a letter to the editor this past week extolling the virtues of the Koran as the only perfect revelation of God. H’mm. Exactly how can anyone persuade two competing universals to find some common ground? Does one side keep reminding the other party that he or she is basically wrong, clueless, destined for a bad outcome and wait for them to come around? That is just not going to work. Could we instead try to mute the differences, lift up what seem like areas of agreement? But human beings have known for centuries that such areas of common agreement exist yet such knowledge has not brought about a renaissance in relations between the competing universals. All religions profess some version of the golden rule, for instance. Yet there is little capacity to easily use the rule across religious boundaries. The more common result, the one we too frequently see, is that communities of people become more rigid, not less, when they encounter those of a different faith.

Channing, even though he thought of himself as a Christian, had a rather different approach. He claimed, much to the consternation of his fellow Christians in New England, that universal Christianity itself was beholden to yet an even higher authority. In a sense he actually favored two higher authorities by which religious faith should be deemed worthy of emulation or not. You could further deduce from his concepts the notion that all religions, not just Christianity, must also accept these higher authorities.

The first standard which Channing lifted up was reason. He shocked the religious community of his day by openly insisting that if something in the Bible didn’t make rational sense it was wrong—no ifs, ands or buts about it. And actually, his views about the Bible at the time were not his alone. Thomas Jefferson liked the Bible but thought some of it violated what seemed to him the standards of reason. He edited the New Testament to form the Jefferson Bible, deleting, for instance, all the miracle stories.

Of course, we in this era do not have nearly the confidence in the utility of reason as did these forebears of our faith. At the very least we know so much more about the entire human psyche and know that reason by itself addresses only a portion of how human beings interact with the world and each other. And reason by itself can perform horribly evil deeds which can be rationalized—but are still insanely evil. Think Stalin—think Hitler. Both were cunningly reasonable—and despicable. Think about how reason was used to come up with convincing rationales for slaughtering the Native Americans. Think about how that champion of reason, Mr. Jefferson, kept slaves.

So reason by itself is insufficient. But insufficiency does not mean it is unnecessary. It is still a very important tool for helping us distinguish degrees of credibility. So reason remains very important, even if not solely important, to Unitarian Universalists. We still hold that religious claims cannot completely disregard all the canons of evidence and logic. Indeed, we are distinguished from the other faith communities in the degree to which we readily embrace the continuing discoveries of science. We are hungry for good solid reliable evidence.

The second higher standard of great importance to Channing was personal conduct. From his perspective religious belief should be judged by how it was lived. In a very important sense he reversed the customary terms of religion. Instead of asking, “Am I Christian enough, or Buddhist enough, or Islamic enough?” Channing would want us to ask, “Am I living a positive life, and if not, what does that say about what I believe?” Belief was very important but daily life was its judge. Here, as with reason, the actions of human beings held a status as being more authoritative than any scripture, more authoritative than any doctrine, more authoritative than any priest. From this perspective Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, agnostic, atheist, et al, are all on a level playing field. Someone who does acts of charity and kindness is to be regarded as equally worthy of praise no matter the source of inspiration. Someone who commits murder and theft—it does not matter whether they are Buddhist or Christian. What counts is that they did something bad. In some ways this could be understood as the old simple rule that how you live your life counts more than what you say you believe. But it is a little bit more complicated than that.

Judgments about belief based on how they affect behavior tend to suggest that private morality is the principal focus of religion. From this perspective religion seems to be primarily concerned with how you live your life, how your actions reflect your beliefs. Obviously that is important—but it is incomplete. Unfortunately, most of the really bad actors in any society do not attend any particular religious community. So do they get a free pass? Let’s say you were leaving Minute Maid Park after a thrilling ninth inning victory by the Astros. As you walk towards your car two young men approach you and inform you that a fitting end to the evening’s festivities would involve your handing over your wallet and other valuables on your person. You could ask them whether or not they believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, you could ask them if they are acting in ways that would make their mother or father proud. But these appeals to their private sense of morality would have, I feel quite confident, little effect on the outcome. No, what your are going to do is hand over your wallet and other valuables and hope and pray they have no intention of shooting you.

It turns out that our largest dilemmas in regards to morality are more of a public than a private nature. Most of you, most of the time are going to do nothing but good things for the well being of the world. But what about everyone else? Do we just throw up our hands and say, “Oh well!” Are we helpless? Should we just check out? But clearly all of us are not insulated from the chaos of the world out there. We are a part of it. If nothing else, we are all obligated to pay our fair share for keeping the peace—and are you willing to quietly allow the authorities to spend your tax dollars on public responses to bad behavior when you become convinced that some of those responses are ineffective or even worse, contribute to public mayhem? I swear if I hear yet another public effort called a “war on...” fill in the blank, I think my brain will hemorrhage. I know. Let’s really go for it and have a “WAR ON WAR!”

Almost all religions express some interest in public morality. But perhaps it is not surprising, if not distressing, how much of that spiritual wattage is used up being focused on who is sleeping with whom and how individuals are conducting themselves during those moments. Our Unitarian Universalist forebears have been by contrast almost always focused on very different subjects.

A few nights ago I was at a meeting of the Stewardship Committee. This is the committee that is responsible for conducting the annual fund drive by which device we ask everyone to think about how they can financially contribute to Emerson so that we can create the coming year’s program. One of the committee members mentioned that, as per usual, we will have to respond to the comment, “All you people ever want from me is my money!” I had one of those visceral reactions, which I hardly ever have, and said, “That’s all we want from you? That’s all? Hah—that’s just the beginning of what we want from you. The money part is the easy part.” You learn what nifty things the congregation is planning to get done, figure out what you can afford to help those nifty things get done and write the check—or checks over the course of a year. That’s it. Like John Madden says, “Boom, you’re done.” That’s the easy part. But what we really want from you? What we really want is for you to take your freedom responsibly. We want you to take risks, emotional risks and intellectual risks. We want you to go on an uncharted journey. We want you to be a part of a company of people who are working hard, and having some fun I should add, but working hard at really taking seriously what it means to affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person. We want you to put aside all the subtle put downs, all the little cuts and jabs human beings typically use to prove their own worth at the expense of others. We want you to take the risk of, well, if not outright loving yourself, at least liking yourself enough so that you feel no urge to make other people feel badly. We want you to learn how to forgive when forgiving is hard. We want you to learn how to forgive yourself when that forgiving is hard. We want you to be brave in the face of danger. We want you to be able to talk civilly and respectfully with people with whom you disagree. We want you to notice and then argue for justice, not only for the obvious cases but for the cases that most everyone else overlooks because it’s, well, easier to pass that injustice by. We want you to overlook the petty distinctions of class, race and sexual preference. We want you to honor men and women equally. And so you say that all we want from you is money? Hah. No, what we want is for you to live your life with all the compassion and integrity and freedom that you can possibly muster. That, Channing would say, is what religion is for. Curiously, the purpose of religion is not to make you religious. The purpose of religion is to help you be vibrant, alive, and generous in thought, spirit and deed. And if your religion is not helping you do that, well Channing, would ask, then what in heaven’s name are you doing with your time here on this good earth? You think you’re going to get another shot at this? Well good luck with that.

So here you have it. A clarity of purpose in a Unitarian Universalist congregation would include these things. 1. A dedication to something called a universal human nature. 2. Whatever we claim about that nature must make sense, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. And 3. Our claims also are to be made manifest in how we conduct our lives for the well being, not just of ourselves, but all that lives on this good green earth of ours. When we get these three things right, well, then, we not only have religion, but we have a religion that works.