• Question Box Service

    On April 27, we had a “Question Box Service,” where people in the congregation asked questions of me, and of Kate Sullivan, our Director of Religious Education. Kate and I addressed address as many of your questions as we could during the service. But we didn’t have time to consider every question. And for the questions we did address, we didn’t have time enough to give full and thoughtful replies. So next fall, I’m going to devote a series of sermons to consider your questions in more depth.

    Here are the questions you gave to Kate and me on April 27. The questions appear within quotation marks. I’ve added comments in square brackets, like this: [ ] .

    [I’ve grouped the following three questions together, because they all concern the future of our congregation. On Oct. 21, I’ll give a sermon titled ‘What Are Our Visions for the Future?”’]

    “What will happen to the church after the older people can no longer come?”

    “Where do you see our church in 15 years, and how will we get to that vision?”

    “How do we connect better / attract new members?”

    “How have you created this spectacular inclusive environment in our congregation?” [I interpret the “you” in this question to be in the plural, for it is everyone in the congregation who has created an inclusive environment.]

    “Can we become a Green Congregation again?” [The Green Sanctuary program of the Unitarian Universalist Association is a certification showing a congregation has adopted best practices for environmental sustainability in its operations.]

    “Yesterday I attended a United Church of Christ memorial service. The message of a better life after this one and rejoining loved ones after death is very appealing. What is the Unitarian Universalist answer to that?” [On Nov. 2, I’ll give a sermon titled ‘What about the Afterlife?’]

    “How to deal with loss and unrelenting grief?” [On Sept. 28, I’ll give a sermon titled ‘What Do You Do with Grief?’]

    [I’ve grouped the next two questions together, and on Jan. 25, 2026, I’ll give a sermon titled ‘Faith, Hope, and Kindness.’]

    “Is it enough to have hope and be kind?”

    “Your thoughts on faith — What is it? Is it religious?”

    “Dan, when did you know that you were ‘called’ to ministry? Was it a journey — how purposeful, spiritual, challenging? Were there times when you were tempted to leave that journey?” [I don’t have a traditional calling like Christian ministers, and I hate talking about myself, so I have difficulty answering this question as asked. But I think there’s a broader issue here. In the past, many Protestant Christians believed that every single person has a calling. I think that would be great, if it could work in the real world. So on Aug. 31 — Labor Day weekend — I’ll give a sermon titled ‘Your Job as a Calling (No, Really).’]

    “What’s a brief theological history of First Parish? It’s got to be an interesting story, going from a Puritan church to the non-creedal church we know and love today.” [On Nov. 30, I’ll give a sermon on exactly this topic.]

    “When kids come home with questions about god/God, what should we say? How should we respond?” [On Oct. 26, I’ll give a sermon titled ‘What Do We Tell Kids about God, Death, etc.?’ Because she’s a developmental psychologist, Kate has a unique perspective on this, and I’ll try to figure out how she can address this topic with me.]

    “What can we do about the reality that there is so much injustice and inequality in the world while we are surrounded by such abundance?” [This is a big huge question. I had already planned a sermon on homelessness on Sept. 24, and a sermon on White poverty on Oct. 5. Those two sermons will begin to address this big huge question.]

    “The great truths of the teachings of Jesus that are common to all major religions in the world.” [This is another big huge question that I can’t possibly cover in just one sermon. But I’ll try to address this question on the Sunday before Christmas, in a sermon titled “Jesus, the Solstice, Diwali, and Hanukkah.”]

    [The following two questions both address the question of what our worship services are the way they are — and how our worship services compare with those of other Unitarian Universalist congregations, as well as those of other religious groups. I’ll talk about this question in the Jan. 4, 2026, service, in a sermon titled ‘Alike and Unalike.’]

    “In the Baha’i faith, there would be a spiritual talk and after the talk the leader would ask people to give their perspectives on the topic.”

    “What about our service is most similar to other Unitarian Universalist congregations?”

    “Where does honest dialogue begin in a time of such deep division?” [Another big huge topic. No, I don’t have the final answer. But in the service on Dec. 28, I’ll have us take a look at some practical tips for opening the door to honest dialogue.]

    “Which came first, the chicken or the egg? (metaphorically)” [My metaphorical answer is: Yes. Actually, I can’t figure out how to address this question in a sermon. If I think of a way to do it, I’ll add it to the schedule of next year’s services.]

  • Another View of Easter

    Sermon copyright (c) 2025 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation. The text below has typographical errors, missing words, etc.

    Easter is one of those holidays that has spread out beyond its original religious setting. For Christians, Easter is the culmination of Holy Week, a week of religious observance. Holy week begins with Palm Sunday, which commemorates the arrival of Jesus of Nazareth into Jerusalem to celebrate Pesach, or Passover (remember they were all observant Jews). Then there’s Maundy Thursday, which according to tradition was when Jesus and his followers had a Seder. Good Friday is a solemn observance of when the Romans executed Jesus. Then Easter Sunday is the joyous celebration of the resurrection of Jesus.

    Now all this was confusing to me as a Unitarian Universalist child. By the rigid religious divisions that existed in Massachusetts back then, Unitarians were called Protestants. But — just like here in Cohasset — the Unitarian congregation I grew up in started out as a Puritan church. For those who inherited the Puritan tradition, there was only one holy day, and that was Sunday; any other holiday was considered to be mere superstition. As a result, when I was a child I didn’t understand Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and all the rest. Even today, I have to admit I still default to the Puritan tradition that says Sunday is the only holy day.

    Some years ago, I was the Director of Religious Education at First Parish in Lexington, which like our congregation started out as a Puritan church. One year, just like this year, Easter happened to fall on the Sunday closest to April 19 or Patriots Day. Most of you probably think of Patriots Day — if you think of it at all — as that three day weekend in April when they run the Boston Marathon. But if you live in Lexington or Concord, you quickly learn that Patriots Day is when all good Americans celebrate the Battle of Lexington and Concord.

    Now as the oldest church in Lexington, First Parish in Lexington was the church of the Minutemen. On the Sunday closest to Patriots Day, there would always be men dressed up in Minuteman costumes, and women wearing 18th century dresses. In my recollection, the Sunday nearest Patriots Day was also the only Sunday during the year when they celebrated communion. In the Unitarian tradition, communion typically is a simple commemoration of the Last Supper. But in First Parish in Lexington, it became more than a commemoration of the Last Supper; with the men and women in 18th century garb, and with the congregation’s 18th century communion silver making its annual appearance, communion also become a sort of historical reenactment of 18th century communion services. Then when Patriots Day fell close to Easter, there would also be an Easter celebration layered on top of all that.

    While this may sound weird and confusing, this is actually the way most religions operate. Pop culture, local history, and religious traditions get all mushed together, making a glorious celebratory mash-up. The fundamentalist Christians and the hard-core atheists are both highly critical of this kind of cultural mash-up, because (as they rightly point out) it does not make rational sense. This is why atheists and conservative Christians criticize Easter eggs, and the Easter Bunny, and Minutemen at Easter services in Lexington. But for the rest of us, cultural mash-ups are loads of fun. We eat our chocolate eggs, we don’t worry about the contradictions, and we welcome the Minutemen on Easter.

    One reason I happen to be thinking about all this is because yesterday was the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord, and today is Easter. I went to the celebration in Concord yesterday, and there is something inside me fully expecting someone to walk through the door of our 18th century meetinghouse, all dressed up in 18th century garb.

    Another reason I happen to be thinking about all this is because over the last century or so, liberal Christians have been thinking about Easter and Holy Week in new ways. The Christian tradition makes it clear that Jesus and his followers went into Jerusalem to celebrate Pesach, or Passover. Pesach celebrates the Exodus, when the ancient Israelites escaped from the bondage and political oppression they experienced in Egypt. In the time of Jesus, Jews no longer lived in Egypt, but they were once again oppressed, this time by the Roman Empire. In an essay published last week in the New York Times, Episcopal priest Andrew Thayer wrote that Palm Sunday celebrations “often miss an uncomfortable truth about Jesus’ procession: At the time, it was a deliberate act of theological and political confrontation. It wasn’t just pageantry; it was protest.”(1)

    In this interpretation of the Easter story, Jesus came, not just to save souls for heaven, but also to push back against the economic policies of the Roman Empire that kept so many Jews living in poverty. Jesus may have wanted to get people into heaven after they died, but he was also seriously concerned about the well-being of people here and now, while they were still alive.

    If we think about Palm Sunday in this way, we might think about Easter differently, too. Instead of making a theological point about the salvation of individuals, we could also think of Easter as a holiday that celebrates the resilience of an entire community. Although it sometimes gets obscured, the central purpose of Christianity is to be a community with the goal to take care of all who are poor and downtrodden. The Romans could kill Jesus, but they could not kill an entire movement devoted to taking care of those who are less fortunate.

    When we think about the Easter story in this way, then it doesn’t seem quite so odd that First Parish in Lexington sometimes had men in Minuteman suits show up on Easter Sunday. Even thought the political situation at the time of the American Revolution was very different from the political situation in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus — even though the underlying philosophies of the Jesus movement and the American Revolution had important differences — nevertheless, both Jesus’s followers, and the architects of the American republic, had a sense that each and every human personality was something to be cherished. When the founders of the United States said that “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights,” they were drawing on an ethical tradition that goes back to Jesus; that tradition goes even further back, to the book of Leviticus in the Hebrew Bible, where it says: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (2). This is the ethical tradition of the Golden Rule: do unto others as you would have them do to you; and this same idea is not exclusive to Judaism and Christianity, but appears in somewhat different forms in nearly every human culture throughout history.

    We live in a time when there are deep divisions in our country. I think most Americans still profess devotion to the Golden Rule — whether we use the words of Leviticus, or one of the other great ethical and religious traditions where the same principle is articulated. But we are deeply divided about how to apply this principle in real life. Does the Golden Rule apply to LGBTQ people? Does the Golden Rule apply to people who are poor? Does the Golden Rule apply to immigrants? Does the Golden Rule apply to both Republicans and Democrats?

    While most Americans seem to agree that we should love our neighbors as we love ourselves, we currently have bitter disagreements on how this might play out politically. And in our bitter disagreements, some of us have been descending into outright hatred. Sometimes we seem to forget that the Golden Rule applies not just to people who share our religion and our politics, but also to the people of other religions, and to people from other countries, and even to people who belong to a different political party.

    This country experienced similar deep divisions back in the 1960s and 1970s. I was a child and teenager in those decades, and I remember listening to the news on television and hearing about the assassinations, the bombings, and the people throwing rocks at school buses right here in eastern Massachusetts.

    Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., captured the feeling of that era in his 1968 speech at Grosse Point High School, when he retold the story of the Good Samaritan. This is the story, as you may remember, of the man who was going over the dangerous mountain road from Jerusalem to Jericho. This man was attacked by robbers, severely beaten, and left to die by the side of the road. A priest and a Levite — both solid upstanding citizens — walked by, saw the man lying there, and hurried away; King says that no doubt they both worried that this was a trap set by robbers to lure them in so that they would be robbed. Then a Samaritan — a member of a despised religious minority — came by, but he stopped to help. King concluded the story by saying: “…the first question that the Levite asked was, ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?’”(3)

    By telling this story, Dr. King revealed an essential problem of human ethics. We know from the Golden Rule that we are called upon to help others; but over and over again, we think only of what will happen to us. Considering just our own country, we have seen this happen again and again in American history: over and over again, we have forgotten this high ideals of the American Revolution, and we have reverted back to a primitive selfishness. In a sermon he gave in 1967, Dr. King said that over and over again Jesus tried to show human beings how to follow the Golden Rule, but that over and over again we turn away from the truth — just as the priest and the Levite turned away from the man who had been beaten and left lying by the side of the road — just as the Roman Empire turned away from the truth of the golden Rule when they executed Jesus on trumped-up political charges. But although too often we turn away from the Golden Rule, we also feel that there is another way. Dr. King put it this way: “[People] love darkness rather than the light, and they crucified [Jesus], and there on Good Friday [when Jesus died] it was still dark, but the Easter came, and Easter is an eternal reminder of the fact that the truth crushed [to] earth will rise again.”(4)

    And that is my Easter hope for you. Even though the deep divisions in our country are crushing the truth of the Golden Rule at the moment — even though the hatred that exists in our country is crushing the truth of this ancient teaching from the Hebrew Bible that we should love our neighbors as we love ourselves — despite everything that’s going on around us, Easter is an eternal reminder that the truth crushed to earth will rise again.

    Notes

    (1) Andrew Thayer, “Palm Sunday Was a Protest, Not a Procession,” New York Times, 13 April 2025.
    (2) Leviticus 19:18.
    (3) Martin Luther King, Jr., “The Other America,” speech at Grosse Point (Mich.) High School, 14 March 1968. In the opening sentence of this speech, King recognized the minister of the Unitarian Universalist church in Grosse Point, Rev. Harry Meserve; Meserve had served as the minister of First Parish in Cohasset in the late 1930s. Text from the Grosse Point Historical Society website: https://www.gphistorical.org/mlk/mlkspeech/index.htm accessed 19 April 2025.
    (4) Martin Luther King, Jr., “A Christmas Sermon,” Ebenezer Baptist Church, Atlanta, Georgia, 24 December 1967.

  • “WWWD”

    Sermon copyright (c) 2025 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation. The text below has typographical errors, missing words, etc.

    Readings

    The first reading was from The History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell:

    “Scientific technique requires the co-operation of a large number of individuals organized under a single direction. Its tendency, therefore, is against anarchism and even individualism, since it demands a well-knit social structure. Unlike religion, it is ethically neutral: it assures us that we can perform wonders, but does not tell us what wonders to perform. In this way it is incomplete. In practice, the purposes to which scientific skill will be devoted depend largely on chance. The men at the head of the vast organizations which it necessitates can, within limits, turn it this way or that as they please. The power impulse thuswahas a scope which it never had before. The philosophies that have been inspired by scientific technique [as opposed to scientific theory] are power philosophies…. Ends are no longer considered; only the skilfulness of the process is valued. This is a form of madness. It is, in our day, the most dangerous form [of madness].”

    The second reading is “Eagle Poem” by Joy Harjo.

    Sermon: “WWWD”

    When I start to think about ethical issues raised by immigration, my thoughts often turn to the earliest immigrants to southeastern Massachusetts, the Pilgrims, and how they were received by the Wampanaog Indians. That’s where the title of this sermon comes from: “WWWD” stands for “What Would the Wampanoags Do?” And I ask that question, not because I think the Wampanoags are some kind of special moral and ethical exemplars, but because the Wampanoags had to confront the challenging question of what to do when your society is faced by a wave of immigration. Looking past the myths that have grown up around the Pilgrims and the Wampanoags, it seems to me that in 1620, the Wampanoags dealt with the Pilgrims with a salutary mixture of common sense and compromise. And I think their actions offer an interesting insight into immigration.

    The story of the Wampanoags is often told like this: The Pilgrims show up in the middle of winter. That first winter, the Wampanoags kindly share food with them so they don’t all starve. In the spring, the Wampanoags show the Pilgrims how to grow corn. Then in the autumn, the Pilgrims and the Wampanoags sit down together for the first Thanksgiving dinner.

    But that’s an oversimplified version of the story. The real story was a lot more complex. For one thing, the real story began well before 1620. Europeans had been landing on the coast of southeastern New England for a century or more before the Pilgrims arrived. Some of those first Europeans were decent people who treated the Wampanoags well. Others engaged in random acts of violence, like the Englishman who abducted a young Wampanoag named Tisquantum and sold him into slavery in Spain; Tisquantum eventually made it back to his homeland and became known to the Pilgrims as Squanto. So when the Pilgrims arrived in 1620, the Wampanoags had good reason to distrust them, and even treat them as potential adversaries. Why then did the Wampanoags treat the Pilgrims as well as they did?

    Partly, it boils down to politics. Prior to 1619, the Wampanoag had been decimated by an epidemic — literally decimated, since in some areas 10% of the population survived the unknown disease.(3) As a result of their greatly reduced population, the Wampanoag grew worried about the military threat posed by their historical antagonists, the Narragansetts, who lived just to the west and who did not experience the same epidemic. From Tisquantum’s personal knowledge, and from other sources, the Wampanoags knew about the Europeans’ impressive military capabilities. Thus it may have made political sense for the Wampanoag to try to build a military alliance with the Europeans.(4) Even though the Wampanoags knew first-hand of the dangers posed by Europeans, the benefits of a military alliance seem to have have outweighed those dangers.

    But while politics were clearly involved, there was also an ethical side to the Wampanoag actions: they helped the Pilgrims because it was the right thing to do. This is a perfect example of what we New Englanders call “enlightened self-interest.” We take care of our self-interest, but we do it in such a way that we take into account the needs and concerns of other people. New Englanders talk about “doing well by doing good”: that’s enlightened self-interest. When New England small business owners pay their employees a decent wage, partly because it’s the right thing to do, but it’s also self-interest because their employees are potential customers: this again is enlightened self-interest. Indeed, sometimes I wonder if the New England concept of enlightened self-interest has its roots in the way the Wampanoags treated the Pilgrims.

    While enlightened self-interest still exists here in New England, another pattern of behavior is also widespread. Today, our world is dominated by what Bertrand Russell calls “scientific technique,” or technical science as opposed to theoretical science. (This is what we heard about in the first reading this morning.) A society based on “scientific technique” — that is, on technology — requires large numbers of human beings cooperating together under the direction of a single authority. Both capitalism and communism arise from this same principle, the difference being that in capitalism, the coordination of a large group is mostly under the authority of the handful of persons who run large corporations; while in communism, the coordination of large groups is entirely under the authority of the handful of persons who control the Communist Party. These large groups, whether corporations or communists, are ethically neutral, which means that the handful of people in charge of these vast organizations can direct them to whatever ends they please. As a result, said Bertrand Russell, “The power impulse thus has a scope which it never had before.” To this he adds: “Ends are no longer considered; only the skilfulness of the process is valued. This is a form of madness.”(5)

    Russell wrote these words in 1943, while the Second World War was going on. Clearly he had the madness of fascism in mind while he was writing. But he was also aware of the dangers of the power impulse inherent in any society dominated by complex technology, because there are no widely-accepted ethical guidelines to determine societal goals.

    In today’s American society, quite a few people actually agree with Bertrand Russell that we lack ethical guidelines. Because of this, many right-wing Christians genuinely believe that they need to inject their own ethical principles into American society. I happen to disagree with the ethical principles of right-wing Christianity, and I have no use for those who use right-wing Christianity as a cover for naked grabs at power — but I respect the desire of the genuinely ethical right-wing Christians to attempt to articulate ethical principles which they sincerely believe would help direct the goals of our society. I can also respect the secular progressives who sincerely champion diversity, equity, and inclusion policies based on their ethical grounding in natural law and human rights. Again, I have no use for anyone who uses DEI as a way to grab power for themselves — but I respect the desire of the genuinely ethical political progressives to try to articulate ethical principles which they sincerely believe could help direct the goals of our society.

    Neither the right-wing Christians nor the proponents of diversity, equity, and inclusion have been able to convince a majority of Americans that their ethical framework should be central to our society. Nor has anyone else been able to propose an ethical framework that attracts broad-based support. This has left us vulnerable to persons with no firm ethical principles, who seek power simply for the sake of seeking power.

    In the middle of the last century, we did arrive at a consensus for an ethical framework. This framework was our ethical commitment to democracy, which included individual rights, the rule of law, and checks and balances in government. All this was derived from the political philosophy of John Locke, a political philosopher who inspired the founders of the United States. But the polarization of the United States in the past half century means we no longer have such a consensus, and so we have descended into an era of power politics.

    Contrast this with the situation in the days of the Wampanoag and the Pilgrims. Both Wampanoag society and Pilgrim society were founded on solid ethical principles. Four centuries on, it’s difficult to put ourselves in the worldview of either the Pilgrims or the Wampanoags. But it appears that the Wampanoag had a strong ethic based on kinship and community; and the concept of kinship probably extended beyond humans to non-human beings.(6) As for the Pilgrims, they believed in subordination: the subordination of the ordinary man to the magistrate, the subordination of woman to man, the subordination of child to father, and above all subordination of man to God.(7) While the ethical principles of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag had radical differences, nevertheless both groups felt the importance of connection between individual and family and community, and between individuals and the transcendent. Thus Pilgrims and Wampanoag had enough common ground in their ethics to be able to establish relations that remained mostly peaceful for four decades. Of course there were conflicts, sometimes violent ones. But for a long time, both groups managed to hold on to their higher ethical commitments. Forty years of peace is no small achievement.

    That was in the early 1600s. Now let’s return to the year 2025. The United States is now a technological society requiring the cooperation of large groups of people under the single direction of a very small number of persons. As the mid-twentieth century ethic of individual rights, the rule of law, and checks and balances has eroded, the power impulse has come to dominate our politics. Fewer and fewer political leaders or corporate leaders practice enlightened self-interest any more; fewer and fewer of our leaders have genuine ethical commitments.

    The lack of ethical commitment leads to a unfortunate result. Our political system is based on the political theories of John Locke. One of the flaws in Locke’s political philosophy is that in certain disputes, there is no good way to judge between the two sides of the dispute, with the result that in these cases decisions can only be made by fighting it out. In noting this weakness in Locke’s system, Bertrand Russell pointed out: “Where such a view is embodied in the Constitution, the only way to avoid occasional civil war is to practise compromise and common sense. But compromise and common sense are habits of the mind, and cannot be embodied in a written constitution.”(7)

    This helps explain what has been going on with immigration policy over the past few decades. Too many of our elected officials have lost the habits of mind of compromise and common sense. The inability to compromise, even when common sense indicates the necessity, is characteristic of power politics. This is not good for anyone.

    How can we return to the habits of compromise and common sense? How can we get back to enlightened self-interest? I found one possible answer coming from a source I had not expected. In his book “White Poverty,” published last year, William J. Barber suggests that confronting White poverty could help Americans of all political persuasions to work together.

    This makes sense to me because I’ve long felt that the most important problem facing America today is the problem of poverty. In 2018, the Federal Reserve — a body that tries to remain non-partisan — issued a report stating that “Four in 10 adults, if faced with an unexpected expense of $400, would either not be able to cover it or would cover it by selling something or borrowing money.”(8) Given what I’ve seen over my years as a minister, this sounds about right. And from what I’ve seen, poverty cuts across racial identity, gender identity, sexual orientation, whether you’re able-bodied, and so on. Even here in Cohasset, despite our picture-postcard-perfect image, too many households are just one medical emergency away from economic disaster. Nor has either political party been able to make much of an impact on poverty. From what I’ve seen as a minister, both the Democrats and the Republicans need to acknowledge that they have not done enough to address the fact that too many people live so close to economic disaster.

    So Barber’s book caught my attention because of his focus on poverty. In addition, Barber is a Black man, yet he says we must deal with White poverty. This shows his common sense, because he’s trying to get past polarization and divisiveness by focusing on an issue where he believes people of all political persuasions can find common cause. This also shows his willingness to compromise, because even though he’s Black he’s willing to focus on White poverty, knowing that if we address White poverty, we will have to address all poverty.(9)

    While it may seem as though I’ve diverged from the topic of immigration, I haven’t. Think about it this way. Four in ten Americans could not cover an emergency expense of $400. One in four Americans skipped necessary medical care in 2017 because they felt they couldn’t afford it. Three out of five non-retired adults say their retirement savings are on track.(10) It is true that compared to the developing world, we Americans have a very comfortable lifestyle; nevertheless, a great many of us do not feel economically secure. If you do not feel economically secure, it would not be surprising if you wondered whether immigrants were going to have an impact on your economic well-being.

    In other words, perhaps we can begin to address the immigration crisis by invoking enlightened self-interest. The “enlightened” part of “enlightened self-interest” recognizes that we do have some degree of ethical responsibility for people from elsewhere in the world who show up on our doorstep. The “self-interest” part of “enlightened self-interest” makes sure that we ourselves get taken care of, and also that we’re taking care of people already in America; this includes attending to already existing poverty in this country.

    What would the Wampanoags do? Back in 1620, they followed enlightened self-interest. They were enlightened when they extended a helping hand to the strangers who showed up in their land without invitation. This was also an act of self-interest, since these newcomers were potential allies and supporters. And as is always the case with enlightened self-interest, the Wampanoag used both compromise and by common sense to achieve their ends.

    As for those of us sitting here in the Meetinghouse, I think we can set an example of enlightened self-interest for others; and we can exemplify the habits of compromise and common sense that go along with it. How can we do this? I’ve heard from quite a few of you that you make a real effort to listen respectfully to those with differing political opinions. This is an example of enlightened self-interest; these days, no one wants to listen to opposing political viewpoints, but it is in our self-interest to do so; for by doing so, we set an example of how to restore democracy. This is a small example, but it is something that one person can accomplish by themselves.

    Beyond that, common sense indicates that it makes sense to find some issue that people of many different political affiliations can work on together. Perhaps that issue could be White poverty, although I’m open to compromise and willing to listen to other common sense ideas. However, I would point out that our congregation is already addressing White poverty. The South Shore where we live is roughly 95% White, and we are staunch supporters of anti-poverty initiatives such as the Cohasset Food Pantry, Habitat for Humanity, and the new Cohasset Community Aid Fund. It is true that addressing White poverty doesn’t directly address the issue of immigration. But it does address the underlying issue of needing to strengthen our democracy.

    And with that in mind, I’ll close with a short common sense poem by Unitarian minister Everett Edward Hale:

    I am only one
    But still I am one.
    I cannot do everything,
    But still I can do something,
    And because I cannot do everything
    I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

    Notes

    (3) Scholars still debate what the disease was. For the most recent hypothesis, see J. S. Marr and J. T. Cathey, “New Hypothesis for Cause of Epidemic among Native Americans, New England, 1616–1619,” Emerging Infectious Diseases, vol. 16, no. 2, 2016, pp. 281–286 — this paper reviews some of the earlier hypotheses, and concludes, “The causes of most historical epidemics may never be proven.”
    (4) Many of the historical facts come from Kathleen J. Bragdon, Native People of Southern New England, 1650–1775 (University of Oklahoma, Press, 1996). However, the interpretation of the historical record is mine.
    (5) Bertrand Russell, History of Western Philosophy, Simon & Schuster, 1945/1972.
    (6) Bragdon, chapter 6, “Kinship as Ideology.”
    (7) For a good discussion of this worldview, see Mary Beth Norton, Founding Mothers and Fathers: Gendered Power and the Forming of American Society (Knopf Doubleday, 1997). Norton cites the political philosophy of Sir Robert Filmer as exemplifying this, which she calls a “Filmerian” worldview. (Filmer was one of the thinkers against whom John Locke was arguing.)
    (8) Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System, Report on the Economic Well-Being of U.S. Households in 2017 (Washington, DC, Federal Reserve Board), p. 2.
    (9) For an overview of Barber’s argument, see chapter one in William J. Barber II with Jonathan Wilson-Hargrove, White Poverty: How Exposing the Myths about Race and Class Can Reconstruct American Democracy (W. W. Norton, 2024).
    (10) Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System, pp. 2-3.