Religion in society – Page 3 – Dan Harper

Is It Religion? (part four) — Christmas

Readings

The first reading is titled “Jingle Coins.” It’s a parody of “Jingle Bells” which Dan learned from the San Francisco Rocking Solidarity Labor Chorus:

Dashing through the mall, I’m spending all the way,
I’ve got to buy more gifts, it’s almost Christmas day!
And then I go online and buy more useless stuff;
I have no self-esteem which means I’ll never buy enough.

Jingle coins, jingle coins, credit cards from banks,
Retailers are in the black, and so we all give thanks;
Jingle coins, jingle coins, money in their tills,
Oh, what fun it is to shop, and to call it all good will!

The junk I buy all comes from China and Hong Kong,
Where there’s no overtime, workdays are twelve hours long;
They get so little pay they almost work for free,
So I can buy cheap ornaments to dangle from my tree.

And when I get the bill, I’ll find out what I spent,
Twelve thousand seven hundred bucks and fifty-seven cents.
Who cares if I’m in debt, it doesn’t bother me,
As long as I’ve got heaps of junk to stash under the tree.

The second reading comes from the Christian scriptures, the Gospel according to Luke, chapter 18. This translation is by Robert W. Funk, Roy W. Hoover, and the Jesus Seminar.

Someone from the ruling class asked Jesus, “Good teacher, what do I have to do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You are not to commit adultery; you must not murder, or steal, and you are not to give false testimony; you are to honor your father and mother.’”

And [the man] said, “I have observed these since I was a child.”

When Jesus heard this, he said, “You are still short one thing. Sell everything you have and distribute the proceeds among the poor, and you will heave treasure in heaven. And then come, follow me.”

But when [the man] heard this, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich.

When Jesus observed that he had become sad, he said, “How difficult it is for those with real money to enter God’s domain! It’s easier for a camel to squeeze through a needle’s eye than for a wealthy person to get into God’s domain.”

Sermon — “Is it Religion, pt. 4: Christmas”

Back in 2010, I sang for a short time with the San Francisco Labor Chorus, and in the first reading you heard the words to “Jingle Coins,” a parody song they used to sing. I may not have remembered the words exactly right, but the opening lines went: “Dashing through the mall, I’m spending all the way, / I’ve got to buy more gifts, it’s almost Christmas day!”

It’s easy to parody Christmas. It’s easy to see Christmas as just an excuse for buying lots of useless stuff, an excuse for consumerism. Honestly, that interpretation is not exactly wrong. Businesses do in fact see Christmas as an opportunity for selling more stuff to all of us. And equally honestly, it’s fun shopping for other people; it’s fun buying Christmas trees and holiday ornaments. It’s a cheerful thing to do.

Christmas shopping is so fun and cheerful that American consumers are projected to spend a total of $1.2 trillion dollars on holiday shopping (see end note). Admittedly, holiday shopping also includes Hannukah spending and Kwanzaa spending and Diwali spending; but let’s be honest, in the United States nearly all of the spending is on Christmas.

If we translate that into billions of dollars, that’s 1,200 billion dollars. If we look at the other top three holidays for total spending, Mother’s Day is in second place with total spending of 36 billion dollars, while Valentines Day and Easter are tied for third place with 24 billion dollars each. Total Father’s Day spending reaches about 23 billion; Super Bowl spending about 15 billion; Halloween spending about $10 billion; Independence Day about 9 billion; and St. Patrick’s Day is a measly 6 billion. I wasn’t able to find any information on the spending habits of other holidays, so presumably those other holidays have so little spending that it’s lost in the noise.

Now, if you add together the non-Christmas holiday shopping events, the grand total comes to roughly 150 billion dollars. Compare that to 1,200 billion dollars spent for the winter holidays. We Americans spend eight times as much during the winter holiday shopping season as we do in all the other lesser holidays combined. We Americans spend an astonishing amount of money on Christmas.

Every year, we’ll hear from devout Christians who tell us that this is A Bad Thing. These devout Christians will tell us: Christmas is supposed to be a religious holiday, not a consumer holiday. The most sincere among them might even refer to our reading from the Christian scriptures, reminding us that wealth may prevent us from living a truly Christian life.

Every year, we’ll also hear from devout atheists who also tell us that all this Christmas spending is A Bad Thing. The devout atheists have a different explanation for why Christmas spending is A Bad Thing. They will point out that ours is supposed to be a secular society, and a religious holiday should not result in the biggest consumer spending event of the year.

You will notice that we do not hear these kinds of arguments for any other holiday. Nobody thinks Mother’s Day or Valentine’s Day are religious holidays. A few devout Christians believe Halloween has religious implications, but they simply find their own ways to celebrate. Everyone acknowledges that Easter is a religious holiday, but it’s easy to ignore Easter if you want to.

But you can’t escape Christmas. We see Christmas decorations in almost every store. We find Christmas logos on almost every online shopping site. Social media gets clogged with Christmas-themed memes. People start wearing red and green clothing and put reindeer antlers on their vehicles. The Town of Cohasset puts up lights around the Common, which no doubt are officially called “holiday lights,” but most people are going to think of them as Christmas lights. Christmas is everywhere. It has become an inescapable part of American popular culture.

Thus, the question of whether Christmas is religion or not is actually quite important. What if the devout Christians and the devout atheists are correct, and Christmas is in fact religious? If that’s correct, then America is in fact a Christian nation — or at least we’re a Christian nation from Thanksgiving to Christmas. And if America is a Christian nation, that may make the devout Christians and the Christian nationalists very happy, but it will make the rest of us very uncomfortable.

On the other hand, what if Christmas is not religious? What if Christmas actually has little or nothing to do with religion? That will make the devout Christians very unhappy, but it will also leave the rest of us felling a bit strange. If Christmas is not religious, if it’s actually a secular holiday, then why do we have these references to Jesus Christ, who is clearly a religious personage? Why do we talk about St. Nick, who is a saint, and who is therefore clearly a religious personage?

Here in America, we have arrived at a majority agreement that Christmas is both religious, and it is not religious. While this is a majority agreement, it is not an absolute consensus that everyone agrees with. Most obviously, the devout Christians say Christmas is not religious enough, while the devout atheists say that Christmas is far too religious. Less obviously, but more importantly, a small but increasing number of Americans follow a non-Christian religion; from the point of view of a Muslim, or a Jew, or a Hindu, Christmas does indeed look religious. For people who belong to non-Christian religions, it might even seem dishonest to try and claim that Christmas is somehow not religious.

Nevertheless, we still think of Christmas as both religious, and not religious. To be more precise, Christmas is based on a major Christian holiday. We cannot escape the fact that Christmas celebrates the birth of someone named Jesus, a religious prophet whom Christians consider the founder of their religion, and more, whom most Christians consider to be one of the personages of the triune God. At the same time, Christmas is 1.2 trillion dollars of consumer spending and parties and gift-giving and concerts and too many calories and too much drinking and classic movies and decorations and visiting family members and many other things that have nothing to do with Jesus or religion. Like it or not, Christmas both is, and is not, religious.

The fact that Christmas is both religious and non-religious can lead to cultural conflict. Andrew Torba, a Christian Nationalist and ultraconservative, recently devoted an episode of his “Parallel Christian Society Podcast” to his anti-Semitic conspiracy theories about how people are trying to remove Christianity form Christmas. Torba is all bent out of shape because he found out that many of our favorite Christmas songs were — get ready to gasp in horror — written by Jews. I didn’t have the stomach to listen to listen to his podcast myself, but according to Religion News Service, a generally reliable source, Torba claims that this is all part of a conspiracy to turn Christmas into a winter holiday that Jews could also celebrate. Torba then said to his listeners, “Knowing this, how could you allow your household to be filled with this music?” (For the record, I know this, and I’m happy to fill my household with this music.)

It’s distrubing that Torba is looking in all the wrong places for a conspiracy that’s trying to take Christianity out of Christmas. There is such a conspiracy, and it’s not a secret conspiracy to take Christianity out of Christmas, it’s an open conspiracy to turn Christmas into profits. The guilty party is consumerism. Businesses that produce consumer goods actually do want us to go dashing through the mall, spending all the way, and then to pretend what we’re doing is in the name of holiday good will. These businesses really would like it best if they could take the religion out of Christmas, because that would allow them to expand their markets even more, and maximize their sales. Jeff Bezos, the former CEO of Amazon, knows he can get more consumers to spend more money if he can convince them that Christmas is really a winter holiday that non-Christians should also celebrate — and they should celebrate by spending money on the Amazon website. How could Torba miss the fact that the real threat to a religious Christmas is actually consumerism?

As it happens, Andrew Torba is the CEO of an alt-right social media site called Gab. He is, in other words, the owner of a consumer-oriented business. Torba is targeting the small market niche of alt-right ultraconservative Christian comsumers. This is how he makes his money. When you realize this, you also realize that his podcast might actually be a pretty good marketing strategy for promoting more people to use his company’s services. So of course he’s not going to point out how consumerism is a far bigger threat to Christmas than is singing “White Christmas” or “Let It Snow.”

It’s not entirely fair of me to pick on Andrew Torba. His tiny little social media company is not in the same league as Amazon. Yet Andrew Torba and Jeff Bezos and all the other CEOs of consumer businesses all make money by manipulating the religiosity of Christmas in order to serve their own ends. Andrew Torba and Jeff Bezos and all the other CEOs of consumer businesses seem more motivated by profits than anything else.

So the real question we are faced with is not whether Christmas is religious or not. If Christmas were just a simple religious holiday, instead of a holiday season worth 1.2 trillion dollars of spending, I would not be preaching this sermon. Think about it this way. There are three main holidays in the Christian calendar: Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. There is no consumer spending associated with Pentecost. Therefore, there is no cultural conflict associated with Pentecost. As for Easter, even though there’s significant consumer spending on that Christian holiday, it’s an order of magnitude less than consumer spending at Christmas. As a result, there’s not much cultural conflict associated with Easter.

It should be obvious that I’m not telling anyone that you should spend no money at Christmas. Go ahead and spend money on Christmas if you wish (as long as you’re responsible and keep your spending within your financial means); or don’t spend money on Christmas; that’s entirely up to you. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. Rather, I’m trying to make an observation about Christmas as a whole.

The only reason that we’re even talking about whether Christmas is religious or not is that there’s so much riding on the question. Businesses that depend on Christmas for much of their profit want to have it both ways. When their customers celebrate Christmas as a Christian religious holiday, these businesses are only too happy to call it religion. If their customers celebrate Christmas as a cultural holiday, then these businesses are quite willing to go along with that interpretation. With the non-Christian population in the United States is rising, which is to say with an increasing number of people for whom Christmas holds no interest as either a religious holiday or a cultural holiday, these businesses are also quite willing to call the period from Thanksgiving to Christmas the “holiday shopping season.”

Consumerism has put us into this odd situation where Christmas is both a secular cultural phenomenon, and a religious phenomenon, and an economic phenomenon. As a result, Christmas can make atheists and Jews and other non-Christians can sometimes feel as though Christians are forcing their religion on everyone else. Yet at the same time, some religious Christians (not Andrew Torba, but genuinely devout Christians) can sometimes feel as though the business of Christmas is forcing the religious aspects of Christmas to the sidelines. No wonder the culture wars have spilled over into Christmas.

As for the rest of us, all this can make Christmas feel a bit overwhelming at times. It is not pleasant to watch the culture wars play out in Christmas. Couple that with the subtle pressure businesses put on us to spend more money at Christmas, it is no wonder that Christmas can sometimes feel overwhelming.

I don’t have a solution to all this, but I do have a suggestion. In the weeks leading up the Christmas, let’s remember to be gentle with one other. When we talk with non-Christians who feel that someone else’s religion is being forced on them, of course we’ll have the sensitivity to not talk about Christmas. When we talk with devout Christians who feel that Christmas is being turned into something they do no like, of course we’ll try to be equally gentle with them. And when we talk with the people who feel overwhelmed by Christmas but who can’t escape it because it’s everywhere — in the supermarket, on Cohasset Common, on TV and all over social media — we can be equally gentle with them.

And we should remember to be gentle with ourselves, too. As Unitarian Universalists, we might fit into any one of these categories — non-Christians, devout Christians, people overwhelmed by Christmas — and, being flexible Unitarian Universalists, we could even fit into all three of these categories at once. So let’s be gentle with ourselves. If you celebrate Christmas, take it at a pace that feels comfortable to you. If you don’t celebrate Christmas, find ways to escape from the pressure. If you ever feel overwhelmed, take care of yourself and find some way to relax. To paraphrase a famous Christmas song written by a Jewish songwriter, may you find some way to be happy tonight, perhaps with some beautiful sights, or just dreaming by the fire.

End note:

As pointed out by several who heard this sermon, the figure of 1.2 trillion in Christmas spending is a projection. Others have projected lesser amounts will be spent in the 2023 Christmas season. But all the estimates I’ve seen hover around one trillion dollars.

Humanism for Such a Time as This

Readings

The first reading is by Russell Moore, an evangelical Christian who forced out of the Southern Baptist Conference for speaking out against Donald Trump’s morals, calling out white nationalism as sinful, and demanding ethical accountability for clergy sexual misconduct. In an interview on NPR< Moore said:

“…Multiple pastors tell me, essentially, the same story about quoting the Sermon on the Mount… in their preaching — ‘turn the other cheek’ — to have someone come up after to say, ‘Where did you get those liberal talking points?’ And what was alarming to me is that in most of these scenarios, when the pastor would say, ‘I’m literally quoting Jesus Christ,’ the response would not be, ‘I apologize.’ The response would be, ‘Yes, but that doesn’t work anymore. That’s weak.’ And when we get to the point where the teachings of Jesus himself are seen as subversive to us [evangelicals], then we’re in a crisis….”

The second reading comes from: “Anybody There? Reflections on African American Humanism,” by Anthony B. Pinn, published in the UU Humanist Association Journal in 1997:

I argue for the possibility of a humanist theology, a theology that holds community rather than God as the center of life-altering questions, accompanied by an understanding of religion and theology as centered on the problem of evil, or theodicy. Christian theology as done within African American communities is premised upon a sense of redemptive suffering as the best response to moral evil in the world. Furthermore, this theological stance is intimately tied to the Christian tradition, complete with a God who is concerned for and working on behalf of the oppressed. It continues to be my belief that, although important in many ways, this theological stance and its narrow perception of religion may not be the best means of achieving the social transformation or liberation sought by the African American community. I conclude that a theological stance on moral evil requires an alternate religious system — African American humanism. This is not meant to dismiss Christian approaches out of hand, rather, to broaden the possibilities, the religious terrain, and to foster conversation concerning liberating ways of addressing the problem of evil.

Sermon — “Humanism for Such a Time as This”

Since I want to talk with you this morning about humanism, perhaps I should begin be defining “humanism.” Like many terms that have to do with religious conviction, different individuals and different organizations are going to define “humanism” in different ways. Some conservative Christians, for example, probably lump humanism together with atheism; those conservative Christians would probably define humanism as just another name for the heresy of not believing in their God. And some fundamentalist atheists would no doubt define humanism as “atheism lite,” by analogy with lite beer — half the calories and half the flavor, and why not just drink the real thing.

In contrast with these derogatory definitions, I choose to define humanism as a positive and valid religious outlook that does not include belief in God. I would call humanism a religious outlook, although I also understand that some followers of humanism would prefer not to be considered religious. After all, these days religion in American popular culture is often equated with narrow-minded conservative Christianity. Nevertheless, I’m going to say that humanism is religious.

As its name implies, humanism puts human beings at the center of religion. The African American humanist theologian William R. Jones calls this “humano-centric” religion. Jones says this is quite different from traditional Christian religion, which — using his terminology — is “theo-centric.” That is to say, conservative Christianity puts God at the center of things, and therefore God has the primary responsibility to solve problems. Humano-centric religion tells us that we human beings are responsible for our own actions; humano-centric religion tells us that if we humans see something wrong with the world, it is up to us to try to repair it and make it better.

Humanism is not unique in teaching us to take responsibility for our own actions. Liberal Christianity, liberal Judaism, engaged Buddhism, and similar groups are also humano-centric religions; that is, each of these groups teaches us humans to take primary responsibility for our own actions. But humanism is different because it says there’s nothing beyond human beings and this present world. Humanists say there is no God, except whatever human-made gods and goddesses we might choose to invent. Humanists teach that there is no supernatural world — no heaven, no nirvana, no karma, no holy beings or holy persons — there is just this world.

I’m not a humanist myself — my current religious self-identity is Haven’t-figured-it-out-ism. However, in this current political and social moment, I find myself both inspired by and grateful to humanism. A certain kind of conservative Christianity has become very emboldened here in the United States. These conservative Christians are giving Christianity a bad reputation. No, more than that, these conservative Christians are giving all of religion a bad reputation. And this type of emboldened conservative Christians is epitomized for me in the story told by Russell Moore, which we heard in the first reading this morning. Let me remind you of this story.

A Christian pastor preaches a sermon based on Matthew 5:38-39. That’s where Jesus is preaching the so-called Sermon on the Mount. During the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” So this Christian pastor preaches on this classic text from the Christian scriptures, and after the sermon he is confronted by an angry parishioner who demands to know why the pastor is preaching those liberal talking points. The pastor informs the angry parishioner that, according to their Christian beliefs, those words were spoken by Jesus Christ, which is to say, those words were actually spoken by God himself. The angry parishioner says, “That doesn’t work any more”; in essence saying that the Word of God is outdated.

Russell Moore, who tells this story, has impeccable conservative Christian credentials. He was a very powerful figure in the Southern Baptist Convention. He taught at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. He was the chairman of the board for an evangelical Christian nonprofit called the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood. In this latter role, he would have been diametrically opposed to our Unitarian Universalist notion of the full equality of men and women and other genders. We here in this room would find many areas of disagreement with Russell Moore.

Yet there are several key issues where we would agree with Russell Moore. For example, in 2016 Moore condemned Donald Trump’s derogatory comments about women and his alleged sexual misconduct. But Moore was forced to recant by Southern Baptist leaders and say he had been unnecessarily harsh. At about that time, Moore made a public statement saying the Confederate flag was not compatible with Christianity. Once again, some influential Southern Baptists took him to task for standing up for the dignity of African Americans. Then a few years later, Moore began calling on his co-religionists to face up to the serious clergy sexual abuse crisis among Southern Baptist churches. Once again he faced bitter backlash from other Southern Baptists for taking a moral stance. He finally grew tired of being forced to apologize for taking moral stances that he felt were based in the Bible. In 2021, Moore left his post as president of the Southern Baptist Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, and left the Southern Baptist Convention entirely.

Unfortunately, this is what American conservative Christianity has come to — Christians rejecting the teachings of Jesus, Christians ignoring sexual misconduct in politicians and in their own pastors, White Christians refusing to deal with racism. A growing number of people don’t want to be associated with the excesses of conservative American Christianity — the clergy sexual abuse crisis, the blatant introduction of partisan politics into religion, the Confederate flags in churches. And the reality is that American conservative Christianity has become the paradigm for all religion in the United States. As a result, a growing number of people don’t want to be involved with any kind of religion at all.

And so it is that humanism has a lot to offer in this current moment of history. In a time when the conservative Christian God appears to be a deity which is sexist, racist, and homophobic, many people are ready to reject all religion. Humanism provide an alternative to conservative Christianity that can help Americans see new possibilities for religion.

And we actually do want people to be part of organized religion. Sociological studies have shown that religion is good for people. This apparently has little to do with belief or lack of belief. After reading some of these sociological studies, and comparing them with my own observations, I would say religion is good for us in large part because we participate in a community of shared values. The shared values I’m talking about are not abstract theology like: do you believe in the Trinity or not; I’m talking about more basic shared values like: being kind to one another; helping one another; working with other people to make the world a better place.

Humanism can help us see this truth about religion. It doesn’t much matter whether everyone believes in God. It does matter that we attempt to lead moral lives, that to the best of our ability we treat all human beings with respect. If someone becomes disillusioned with God, they may feel compelled to leave all organized religion behind, thus cutting them off from the benefits of a religious community. Humanism offers the opportunity of having a religious community without the perceived hypocrisy of today’s American religion.

Humanism can also serve as a healthy challenge to those who may not be humanists, by insisting that we human beings are responsible for our own actions. Humanists teach us that when we see something wrong with the world, it’s up to us to repair it. By contrast, conservative Christianity promotes a kind of passivity — everything is up to God; it’s God’s will if you live or die; all you need to do is pray. As an example of this kind of thinking, some conservative Christian pastors right now are saying we should not strive for peace in Israel and Gaza, because they believe the war there is a sign of the End Times when Jesus comes back to earth. God has decreed this — so these conservative Christian pastors say — and so we should let the warring parties do whatever they want. If the war escalates, then so be it, that’s what God wants. Humanists help us understand why these conservative Christian pastors are so wrong. Humanists teach us that when human society goes wrong it’s up to us to fix it. Progressive Christians, progressive Jews, and progressive Muslims might word this a bit differently; they might say God has given humans freedom to act, or something similar. But it comes down to the same basic principle: the war in Gaza and Israel was started by humans, it is being fought by humans, and therefore it’s up to us humans to put an end to the fighting and violence.

Humanists apply this principle to many other contemporary social problems. In the second reading this morning, Anthony Pinn, an African American humanist, argues that humanism offers the best hope for repairing the evils of racism. In his opinion, the Black churches have responded to racism based on “a sense of redemptive suffering as the best response to moral evil in the world.” Pinn rejects the notion of redemptive suffering — in Pinn’s view, suffering the evils of racism is not going to redeem anyone. Instead, Pinn argues that a religious outlook focused on the problem of evil, a religious outlook which relies on community rather than God to address the evil of racism, is what we need. No more redemptive suffering, let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work.

Once again, I don’t think that humanism is all that different from progressive Christianity or engaged Buddhism or progressive Judaism. The main difference I can see is that humanism doesn’t have a central personage like Jesus or God or the Buddha. Yet all these religious outlooks are similar in placing a very high importance on community. God, or Jesus, or Buddha remains important, but human community is also critically important.

And here is where we find the main distinction between religious humanism and organized atheism. Both atheists and humanists do not believe in God, or in any divinity. But the most important thing for organized atheists is their disbelief in God. By contrast, the most important thing for religious humanists is that they come together in community to try to solve the problems facing the world. Thus, the well-known atheist Richard Dawkins spends much of his time trying to convince others that God is a delusion. By contrast, humanist Anthony Pinn is mostly concerned with addressing society’s problems, and he brings up his disbelief in God only because he feels it can get in the way of fighting evil. Theoretical physicist Peter Higgs — who predicted the existence of the Higgs boson — once quipped in an interview that “Dawkins in a way is almost a fundamentalist himself, of another kind.” I think there’s some truth in that. Just as the conservative Christians feel they have to defend the purity of their belief, atheists like Dawkins feel they have to defend the purity of their disbelief. Whereas atheists like Anthony Pinn don’t spend much time on purity of belief or disbelief. Humanists believe that instead of spending so much time on purity of belief, we should be spending most of our time on ending racism, or on promoting world peace, or addressing any number of other social evils.

I already told you that I’m not a humanist myself, that I’m what you might call a Haven’t-figured-it-out-ist. Yet as a stalwart proponent of Haven’t-figured-it-out-ism, I find myself inspired by humanism, and by humanists like Anthony Pinn. I admit that I really enjoy talking about abstract issues like the nature of God, the requirements of the Dharma, and the ways the rabbis have interpreted the Torah. (I have an undergraduate degree in philosophy and a graduate degree in theology, of course I like talking about such things!) But I feel Anthony Pinn is correct. It’s more important, as he says, “to foster conversation concerning liberating ways of addressing the problem of evil.”

In other words, what I learn from humanist is that our top priority as a religious community should be ending racism, sexism, homophobia, war, and so on. What each of happens to believe or disbelieve about God, or Dharma, or Allah, or any of those abstract religious questions, deserves less of our energy at this particular historical moment. Let’s take care of racism first. Let’s end hunger and poverty first. Let’s solve the looming environmental crisis first. Let’s focus on the human problems that human beings can solve. Once we have those problems taken care of, then we can find the time to argue about the existence or non-existence of God.

Why I’m a Mystic (But Maybe You Shouldn’t Be)

Readings

From the essay “Nature” by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear. In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, — no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, — my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances, — master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty.

From Louisa May Alcott’s satire on Transcendentalism, “Transcendental Wild Oats”:

“Each member [of the community] is to perform the work for which experience, strength, and taste best fit him,” continued Dictator Lion. “Thus drudgery and disorder will be avoided and harmony prevail. We shall rise at dawn, begin the day by bathing, followed by music, and then a chaste repast of fruit and bread. Each one finds congenial occupation till the meridian meal; when some deep-searching conversation gives rest to the body and development to the mind. Healthful labor again engages us till the last meal, when we assemble in social communion, prolonged till sunset, when we retire to sweet repose, ready for the next day’s activity.”

“What part of the work do you incline to yourself?” asked Sister Hope, with a humorous glimmer in her keen eyes.

“I shall wait till it is made clear to me. Being in preference to doing is the great aim, and this comes to us rather by a resigned willingness than a wilful activity, which is a check to all divine growth,” responded Brother Timon.

“I thought so.” And Mrs. Lamb sighed audibly, for during the year he had spent in her family Brother Timon had so faithfully carried out his idea of “being, not doing,” that she had found his “divine growth” both an expensive and unsatisfactory process.

Sermon: “Why I’m a Mystic (But Maybe You Shouldn’t Be)”

When I was 16, the summer camp I worked for sent me to a weekend workshop led by Steve van Matre, an environmental educator. Steve van Matre was an observant educator. After several years of working with kids, he noticed that conventional environmental education, with its emphasis on teaching identification skills and intellectual concepts, didn’t wind up producing environmentalists. So he, and the other environmental educators with whom he worked, began developing activities that would — to use his words — “turn people on to Nature.”

One group of these new activities was called “solitude enhancing activities.” Van Matre felt that most of the time when we are supposedly in solitude, we are actually listening to a little internal voice that is constantly talking. Van Matre called this voice “the little reprobate in the attic of your mind,” and he said that it was a dangerous voice in some ways, because it keeps us from living in the present. (1)

When he said this, for the first time I became aware of that little voice in my own head. And that little reprobate in the attic of my mind did in fact talk on and on with no respite. Once I noticed it, I couldn’t un-notice it: it was constantly talking, on and on and on, and saying (if I were to be honest with myself) little or nothing of interest.

Van Matre outlined several activities that environmental educators could use to help quiet that “little reprobate in the attic of your mind.” I decided that I wanted to teach those activities to this children I worked with in the summer. Since I was brought up in a family of educators, I knew that if you’re going to teach something, it’s a good idea to try doing it yourself first. So I tried some of van Matre’s solitude enhancing activities.

One of these activities, which called “Seton-Watching,” was to sit outdoors somewhere and do nothing but simply be aware. Van Matre had told us about a time when he did this: He went outdoors, and settled down to stay absolutely still for some lengthy period of time, perhaps half an hour. After sitting absolutely still and in silence for perhaps a quarter of an hour, a hummingbird came along to look at his red hat band. This prompted van Matre to look up, so he could see the hummingbird. The motion of his head startled the bird and it flew away before he could see it, and he concluded he would have been better off remaining motionless, instead of listening to the little voice in his head that told him to look up.

I began trying this “Seton Watching” activity. One afternoon while sitting at the foot of a birch tree, the little reprobate in the attic of my mind finally stopped talking. In that moment, I suddenly became aware of — for want of a better way of describing it — the connectedness of the entire universe. It was quite a sensation. I then discovered that words were not adequate to describe this sensation — it was not in fact a sense of the connectedness of the universe, but something that couldn’t be put into words. Which makes sense, because this sensation only occurred when that little voice in my head stopped talking. Words are very powerful and very useful, but there are other kinds of knowing that have nothing to do with words; and trying to describe those other kinds of knowing with words must obviously be a pointless exercise.

It turns out that experiences like this are fairly common. These experiences have been classed together under the title “mystical experiences.” When the psychologist William James studied mystical experiences, he argued they had two defining features. First, said James, the person who has a mystical experience “immediately says that it defies expression, that no adequate report of its contents can be given in words.” James goes on to add: “It follows from this that its quality must be directly experienced; it cannot be imparted or transferred to others.” Second, James said, mystical states are experienced by those who have them as a kind of knowing: “They are states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect.” James also pointed out that mystical experiences tend to be short-lived and transient, and they are generally passive. (2)

Mystical experiences are fairly common — William James believed that as many as a quarter of all people have them. And that makes me wonder — what good are these experiences? I’m less interested in whether these experiences are useful, but instead I wonder whether these experiences tend to move you towards or away from truth and goodness. To use the language of the Unitarian minister and mystic Theodore Parker: the moral arc of the universe is long, and the question is whether these experiences help bend it towards justice, or not.

I think mystical experiences can lead to justice, but they can also lead to injustice. In my observation, mystical experiences, when supported by the right kind of community, can strengthen individuals to help bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice. However, I’ve also seen how mystical experiences may twist an individual towards psychopathologies like narcissism and delusion, or embolden an individual to abuse their power and indulge their greed.

Here’s what I think causes someone to follow one or the other of these two possible paths. If someone has a mystical experience and they think it makes them special and somehow better than other people, that can prove to be the path to psychopathology or abusiveness. These people tend to have mystical experiences outside of a supportive and critical community. They are hyper-individualists, and the combination of mysticism and individualism can create a toxic brew. On the other hand, if someone has a mystical experience and is part of a community that holds them accountable for their actions, then a mystical experience can help that person bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice. A mystical experience can provide a vision for a better future where Earth shall be fair and all her people one.

In the second reading this morning, the excerpt from “Transcendental Wild Oats,” Louisa May Alcott tells a story of how mysticism can be destructive. “Transcendental Wild Oats” is based on Alcott’s lived experience. When she was a girl, her father moved his family to Fruitlands, a utopian community in Harvard, Massachusetts. The men who started the Fruitlands community were mystics, and their mystical insights informed them — so they said — of how to run the perfect human community. But the Fruitlands community fell apart in seven short months. The male mystics in charge of the community were unable to grow the crops they were depending on, unable to do anything practical, while the women in the community did their best to keep the children safe and feed everyone. Louisa May Alcott’s story “Transcendental Wild Oats” is a thinly disguised satire of the Fruitlands community. Alcott lays bare the sexism and the ignorance of the men whose abuse of their mystical experiences made the lives of other people miserable.

(I should note in passing that Louisa May Alcott was a Unitarian. But hers was not an individualistic religion; hers was a religion of community, connection, and mutual support.)

In our first reading, another Unitarian, Ralph Waldo Emerson, described one of his own mystical experiences. In a now-famous image, Emerson wrote: “…All mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.” Christopher Cranch, a contemporary of Emerson’s and a fellow Unitarian minister, drew a cartoon making fun of Emerson’s transparent eye-ball: the cartoon shows an eyeball wearing a top hat atop a tiny body with long spindly legs. (3) I think what makes Emerson’s transparent eye-ball image so prone to mockery is the fact that it’s too individualistic. This is my criticism of Emerson’s mysticism: he is too self-centered. Emerson had the opportunity to go out and wander in the fields and become a transparent eye-ball in part because he left all the housework, all the management of their children, to his wife, Lidian. (4) This sounds too much like the mysticism that Louisa May Alcott satirized. If you become a transparent eye-ball while wandering the fields in leisure, that will be quite different from the mystical experiences you might have while caring for children, or mending clothes, or cooking dinner for your family.

And this brings me to another well-known mystic, Henry David Thoreau. Thoreau was raised as a Unitarian, but left in his early twenties because the church in Concord, where he was a member, refused to offer wholehearted support to the abolition of slavery. Thoreau’s most famous descriptions of his own mystical experiences occur in this book Walden. Once again, Thoreau’s mysticism is open to mockery. Critics of Thoreau love to tell the story of how Thoreau didn’t actually lead the life of a mystical hermit at Walden Pond — he went home regularly so his mother could do his laundry and cook him dinner. It’s easy to be a mystic when your mom cooks you dinner.

But I think Thoreau’s critics miss the point. While it is true that Thoreau didn’t break out of the strict gender roles of his time, at least he did much of his own cooking and cleaning while living at Walden. And Thoreau had to go home regularly to help his father run the family business of manufacturing pencils (an appropriate role for his gender in those times). Equally important for our purposes, Thoreau also went home to attend meetings of the anti-slavery group led by his mother. The Thoreau family was part of the Underground Railroad, and Thoreau wrote that his cabin at Walden Pond served as a place to harbor fugitive slaves. And while he lived at Walden Pond, Thoreau spent that famous night in jail because he refused to pay taxes that went to support an unjust war.

We can rightly criticize Thoreau for his sexism, the unquestioned sexism of his time. And it’s easy to make fun of his mysticism. But unlike the mysticism of the organizers of Fruitlands, Thoreau’s mysticism didn’t keep him from successfully growing his own food, and building his own house. And while Emerson’s mysticism can come across as self-indulgent, Thoreau’s mysticism gave him the strength to take courageous action against slavery, and against unjust war.

When I had my own first mystical experience, I lived in Concord, where Louisa May Alcott, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry David Thoreau had all lived. The Concord public schools gave us a heavy dose of the Concord authors, so at age sixteen I knew their stories. I had even started to read Thoreau’s Walden, and liked him the best of all the Concord authors. So when I had my own mystical experience, I had Thoreau’s example to show that mystical experiences could move one towards making the world a better place.

The justification for a mystical experience is to help bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice. This helps explain Martin Luther King’s fascination with Thoreau. I suspect King had his own mystical experiences, which he no doubt understood from within his progressive Christian worldview. King understood how his deeply-felt religious experiences could give him the strength he needed to confront injustice. Nor is he the only one whose mystical experiences helped them bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice. Hildegard de Bingen drew strength from her mysticism to enlarge the role of women within the confines of her medieval European society. Mahatma Gandhi drew on his mystical experiences to help him confront the evils of colonialism in India. And so on.

Just remember that you don’t need to be a mystic in order to help bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice. Some people have mystical experiences, and some people don’t. Having a mystical experience doesn’t make you a better person; what makes you a better person is furthering the cause of truth and justice. But if you are one of those people who happens to have a mystical experience or two, may you use it to strengthen you to help make the world a better place.

Notes

(1) Van Matre’s approach is outlined in his books Acclimatizing, a Personal and Reflective Approach to a Natural Relationship (American Camping Assoc., 1974) and Acclimatization : A S ensory and Conceptual Approach to Ecological Involvement (American Camping Assoc., 1972). The quote comes from my notes of van Matre’s workshop on 6 May 1977.

(2) William James, Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 381.

(3) Here’s Cranch’s cartoon:

A sketch of a transparent eyeball on long spindly legs. — from Wikimedia Commons, public domain image

(4) For an account of busy Lidian’s daily life, see the biography by her daughter, Ellen Tucker Emerson, The Life of Lidian Jackson Emerson, ed. by Delores Bird Carpenter (Boston: Twayne, 1981).