Below is an excerpt from an evening worship service led by Dan Harper at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Berkeley, in Kensington, California. As usual, the text below is a reading text. The actual worship service contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Story copyright (c) 2003 Daniel Harper.
Song
“Consensus” by Beth Corrigan, adapted by Dan Harper
1. Consensus…
consensus…
consensus…,
You sit around and talk about it,
sit around, talk about it,
sit around and talk about it…,
Trying — to reach —
2. Consensus…
consensus…
consensus…,
You sit around and talk about it,
sit around, talk about it,
sit around and talk about it…,
Trying — to reach —
3. But if you dig in your heels,
and stick to your guns,
and don’t budge an inch —
You don’t — have to reach —
Yadda yadda, yadd yadda yadda, yadd
yadda yadda, yadd yadda yadda, yadd
yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda….
Yadda yadda [ad lib and fade]
[Note: Beth wrote this song at a Unitarian Universalist young adult conference in Watertown, Massachusetts, February, 1997, after a couple of interminable business meetings where we failed to reach consensus.]
A short story
For some reason, many Unitarian Universalists have this interesting idea that our congregations should be run by consensus decision-making. But if we’re going to try to use consensus to make decisions, we better understand what exactly consensus is. So here’s a story about consensus….
Back in the winter of 1992, I was working for a carpenter. Business was not good that winter — the economy in Massachusetts where I was living and working was in pretty bad shape. We were down to working three days a week, and my boss was making noises about laying me off entirely for a while.
Just then I got called for jury duty, and put on a jury for a murder trial. I felt fortunate because once I was on a jury the state paid me fifty dollars a day, so my boss wouldn’t have to lay me off for the duration of the trial.
It was a pretty gruesome trial, and maybe some other time I can tell you all the gory details. But at last all the evidence was given, and we on the jury were charged by the judge to reach a decision. Was the defendant guilty of first degree murder with extreme atrocity and cruelty, of first degree murder, or of second degree murder — or was the defendant innocent? The judge instructed us in the law, and sent us to the jury room with a cart full of evidence (blood-stained clothes and all). All twelve of us had to agree on the final verdict.
We sat around the table in the jury room and began talking about it. We talked, and we talked, and we talked. Four or five of us were in favor of finding the defendant guilty of first degree murder with extreme atrocity and cruelty. Most of us were in favor of finding the defendant guilty of simple first degree murder. And one woman felt that while the defendant had done wrong, we could not find him guilty even of second-degree murder.
So we sat around and talked about it some more. We reviewed all the evidence. We went over all the facts several times. And fianlly, after two days of this, we got to the point where we were sharing our emotional reactions with each other. A few of us were shocked and overwhelmed at the sheer brutality of murder, let alone this particularly bloody murder. Some of us had a less violent emotional reaction, but we still felt the defendant had to go to prison for life (there is no death penalty in Massachusetts). And there was still that lone woman holding out for innocence, or at least second degree murder.
We sat around and talked about it. We ate lunch. We sat around and talked about it some more. Eleven of us finally were able to agree that the defendant was guilty of first degree murder. The lone woman was still holding out for second degree murder. We sat around and talked with her. Could she live with first degree murder? He wasn’t going to be put to death in Massachusetts, the only difference between first and second degree murder was that he could never get parole. Suddenly she gave in — she could live our decision — finally, we all agreed.
That kind of experience can permanently affect you. My experience certainly has affected how I see consensus decision-making in church. First of all, reaching consensus doesn’t mean perfect agreement, it doesn’t mean you have to like the final decision. In the murder trial, I was one of the ones holding out for first degree murder with extreme atrocity and cruelty, and I did not like our final decision — but I could live with it.
Second, consensus takes lots and lots of time. The case I just told you about was pretty straighforward, but it still took three whole days to reach complete agreement. In our congregation, we usually don’t have that kind of time. And the more people you add, the longer it will take to reach a decision. Not too long ago, I was reading about a Quaker meeting which finally reached consensus about declaring themselves an open and affirming congregation, that is a congregation which welcomed all persons regardless of sexual orientation. They had less than a hundred members, but it took them seven years to reach consensus about declaring themselves an open and affirming congregation. Seven years! That implies that in our five-hundred-and-fifty member congregation, we had better be prepared to spend at least a decade if we’re going to try to reach consensus on anything.
Finally, consensus requires open conflict. You have to be willing to have open conflict, you have to be willing to listen carefully to others, to argue with others, to bare your own soul to others in order to reach consensus. Consensus is not easy, it is not comfortable, it can be emotionally painful. My belief is that if we’re scared of being hurt and scared of conflict, we will never reach consensus.
I’m just no longer sure that reaching consensus is all that important. If we build ourselves into the lives of others, we can have those strong connections that we crave without having to agree with everyone on everything. Our fortunes are fused with the welfare of humanity, but humanity has always lived with a riotous beauty of diversity. Our diversity — our divergent beliefs and understandigns — carry us forward. What truly matters is that we love humanity, that we find strength in each other, and so it is that we acheive some immortality.
Consensus among twelve, or a hundred, or five hundred and fifty, is but partial agreement anyway, when we think about the fate of the entire human race.