• A Unitarian Universalist Easter

    This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper at First Unitarian Church in New Bedford. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2008 Daniel Harper.

    Story — “The Story of Easter”

    This morning, I’m going to tell the Unitarian Universalist version of the Easter story. If you were here to hear last week’s story, we left Jesus as he was entering the city of Jerusalem, being welcomed by people carrying flowers and waving palm fronds.

    On that first day in Jerusalem, Jesus did little more than look around in the great Temple of Jerusalem — the Temple that was the holiest place for Jesus and for all other Jews. Jesus noticed that there were a number of people selling things in the Temple (for example, there were people selling pigeons), and besides that there were all kinds of comings and goings through the Temple, people carrying all kinds of gear, taking shortcuts by going through the Temple.

    The next day, Jesus returned to the Temple. He walked in, chased out the people selling things, and upset the tables of the moneychangers. Needless to say, he created quite a commotion! and I imagine that a crowd gathered around to see what this stranger, this traveling rabbi, was up to. Once the dust had settled, Jesus turned to the gathered crowd, and quoted from the Hebrew scriptures, the book of Isaiah where God says, “My Temple shall be known as a place of prayer for all nations.” Jesus said it was time that the Temple went back to being a place of prayer — how could you pray when there were people buying and selling things right next to you? How could you pray with all those pigeons cooing?

    I don’t know about you, but I think Jesus did the right thing in chasing the pigeon-dealers, the moneylenders, and the other salespeople out of the Temple. But the way he did managed to annoy the powerful people who ran the Temple. It made them look bad. They didn’t like that.

    In the next few days, Jesus taught and preached all through Jerusalem. We know he quoted the book of Leviticus, where it says, “You are to love your neighbor as yourself.” He encouraged people to be genuinely religious, to help the weak and the poor. Jesus also got into fairly heated discussions with some of Jerusalem’s religious leaders, and he was so good at arguing that once again, he made those powerful people look bad. Once again, they didn’t like that.

    Meanwhile, other things were brewing in Jerusalem. The Romans governed Jerusalem at that time. The Romans were also concerned about Jesus. When Jesus rode into the city, he was welcomed by a crowd of people who treated him as if he were one of the long-lost kings of Israel. That made the Romans worry. Was Jesus planning some kind of secret religious rebellion? How many followers did he have? What was he really up to, anyway?

    Jesus continued his teaching and preaching from Sunday until Thursday evening, when Passover began. Since Jesus and his disciples were all good observant Jews, after sundown on Thursday they celebrated a Passover Seder together. They had the wine, the matzoh, the bitter herbs, all the standard things you have at a Seder. (By the way, if you’ve ever heard of “Maundy Thursday,” which is always the Thursday before Easter Sunday, that’s the commemoration of that last meal; and while not all Bible scholars agree that least meal was in fact a Seder, many scholars do think it was a Seder.)

    After the Seder, Jesus was restless and depressed. He had a strong sense that the Romans or the powerful religious leaders were going to try to arrest him for stirring up trouble, for agitating the people of Jerusalem. He didn’t know how or when it would happen, but he was pretty sure he would be arrested sometime.

    As it happened, Jesus was arrested just a few hours after the Seder. He was given a trial the same night he was arrested, and he was executed the next day. The Romans put him to death using a common but very unpleasant type of execution known as crucifixion. (And the day of Jesus’ execution, the Friday before Easter, is called “Good Friday,” a day when many Christians commemorate Jesus’ death.)

    Because the Jewish sabbath started right at sundown, and Jewish law of the time did not allow you to bury anyone on the Sabbath day, Jesus’ friends couldn’t bury him right away. There were no funeral homes back in those days, so Jesus’ friends put his body in a tomb, which was a sort of cave cut into the side of a hill. There the body would be safe until they could bury it, after the Sabbath was over.

    First thing Sunday morning, some of Jesus’ friends went to the tomb to get the body ready for burial. But to their great surprise, the body was gone, and there was a man there in white robes who talked to them about Jesus!

    When I was a child, my Unitarian Universalist Sunday school teachers would tell me that what had probably happened is that some of Jesus’ other friends had come along, and had already buried the body. You see, there must have been a fair amount of confusion that first Easter morning. Jesus’ friends were upset that he was dead, and they were worried that one or more of them might be arrested, too, or even executed. The burial must have taken place in secret, and probably not everybody got told when and where the burial was. Thus, by the time some of Jesus’ followers had gotten to the tomb, others had already buried his body.

    Some of Jesus’ followers began saying that Jesus had risen from the dead, and following that several people even claimed to have spoken with him. But in our Sunday school, we say that we Unitarian Universalists don’t actually have to believe that Jesus actually arose from the dead. We can choose to believe that his friends were so sad, and missed him so much, that they wanted to believe that he was alive again.

    That’s our Unitarian Universalist version of the Easter story. Now, the children are invited to stay for the whole worship service, and Dan and I believe that it’s good for children to attend an entire worship service once in a while, just so they know what it’s like. There are Easter coloring books at the back of the church, to help children sit quietly through the service.

    Prayer

    Because the children are present this Sunday, I’ll talk briefly about how we Unitarian Universalists do prayer and meditation. When it comes to prayer, there’s only one firm rule for us Unitarian Universalists: you don’t have to pray or meditate if you don’t want to, but you do have to stay quiet so you won’t disturb other people.

    As a Unitarian Universalist child, I learned that when you pray, you just sit comfortably and quietly, with your eyes open and your head up. I learned that the most important thing is to be quiet and peaceful inside yourself. As you get older, you may discover other ways to pray or meditate, but this is a good place to start. So now let’s begin our prayer and meditation time by sitting quietly. If you’re sitting next to someone you love, you can lean up against them, and even put your arm around them if you want.

    Let us join our hearts in the spirit of prayer and mediation, first with spoken words, then with a time of silence, and ending with a musical response.

    As we do each week in this time of war, we think of all those in Iraq and Afghanistan. March 20 marked the fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq. On this Easter Sunday, when we think of Jesus who is called the prince of Peace, we pray for peace in the Middle East.

    Thursday marked the date of the spring equinox, when daytime and nighttime are of equal length. May we take the time to enjoy the lengthening days; may we take the time to look for signs of spring, the return of life after the long winter.

    May we also take time to think of all those in our immediate community who are suffering. May those who are troubled in mind and spirit find comfort and healing; may those who need it find peace; may those who need help find it.

    Readings

    The first reading is Our Kind of Story:

    What comes to mind when Jesus is mentioned? Where to begin?

    Jesus was a Galilean Jew. Most men had beards at the time. Many men wore their hair long in a braid down their backs — maybe that’s what Jesus did. He would have eaten with his hands from a common bowl. He no doubt wore his clothes many days in a row. He would not have brushed his teeth.
    We have no reason to believe that Jesus thought himself to be the Messiah, or believed in heaven, or in angels. These were ideas later ascribed to him by his followers.

    Most Unitarian Universalists find it easy to imagine this kind of human Jesus.

    But at this time of year, we don’t get off quite so easily, because the resurrection shows up on our calendars on Easter Day.

    What are we to do? We might take a look at the Book of Mark, written 70 years after Jesus’ birth. It’s a compilation of the oral tradition that already existed about Jesus. In Mark, Jesus is crucified, and after the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene and Mary set off to find his body to anoint it.

    But the body isn’t there. Scholars agree that the original book of Mark ends with the women fleeing in terror. The two Marys don’t tell a soul, and Jesus never shows up again.

    Wow! Imagine if the early Christians had let that story stay in print as it was first told, ending as it did in a frightened failure of nerve. It took a couple hundred years, but finally someone did add a new ending to the Book of Mark. Now, at the end of the story, Jesus appears again as if he were not dead.

    Some people think that resurrection has to be about the resuscitation of a corpse. Of course not. Dead people don’t come back to life. At least that’s not our kind of story.

    For us, it’s like this: We know that when something as wonderful as the message of Jesus comes along, in real life it does not die forever. The message comes back to life. We know that when goodness, and righteousness, and love emerge in the midst of humanity, they continue to rise up and come back to us.

    We know that hope does not die. Hope comes back to life.

    [Adapted from a sermon by Rev. Jane Rzpeka published in the April, 2006, issue of Quest. Available online here.

    Offertory — We are a free church, and no ecclesiastical hierarchy, and no governmental agency, has any authority over us. We maintain our status as a free church by accepting no money from any outside source. In addition to their annual pledges, our members and friends may choose to give an additional donation during our Sunday worship service as a public witness that we are and shall remain a free church. If you are a visitor or a newcomer you may let the collection boxes pass with a clear conscience.

    The second reading comes from the Christian scriptures, the gospel of Mark.

    When evening came, since it was the preparation day (that is to say, the day before the Sabbath), Joseph of Arimathea, a distinguished councillor, arrived who was also himself awaiting the Kingdom of God. He ventured to go to Pilate and ask for the body of Jesus. Pilate was surprised that he had died so quickly, and having sent for the centurion asked if he was already dead. When the centurion confirmed it, Pilate granted Joseph the corpse. After purchasing a linen winding sheet Joseph took Jesus down, swathed him in the linen, and laid him in a tomb quarried out of the rock: he then rolled a boulder against the entrance of the tomb. Mary of Magdala and Mary mother of Jesus observed where he was laid.

    When the sabbath day was ended, Mary of Magdala, Mary mother of James, and Salome brought spices in order to go and anoint him. And very early in the morning of the day after the sabbath they came to the tomb as soon as the sun was up. “Who is going to roll away the boulder for us from the entrance of the tomb?” (it was very massive) they asked themselves. But when they came to look they saw that the boulder had been rolled aside.

    On entering the tomb they were startled to see a young man sitting on the right side clad in a flowing white robe. “Do not be alarmed,” he said to them. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene who was crucified. He has risen. He is not here. Look, here is the place where he was laid. Go now and tell his disciples, and Peter particularly, he is preceding you to Galilee. You will se him there just as I told you.”

    They fled from the tomb, for they were trembling and unnerved. And they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

    [Mark 15.42 – 16.8.]

    Sermon

    Unitarian Universalism was born in May, 1961, when two long-time religious groups, the Universalist Church of America and the American Unitarian Association, consolidated and became the brand-new Unitarian Universalist Association. Thus the Unitarian Universalist Association will be forty-seven years old this May.

    I would argue that when the Unitarians and the Universalists formally voted to consolidate and become a new legal entity, they also became a new religious entity. We’re not really Unitarians and more, and we’re not really Universalists; we’re Unitarian Universalists which is something quite different. And as religious groups go, we’re still relatively young. Yes, we can trace our Universalist churches in North America back into the 1760s, and yes King’s Chapel in Boston was calling itself Unitarian as early as 1785. And yes, if you go to Europe you can find Unitarians in the 1400s; and yes, there were people preaching unitarian and universalist doctrines not long after Jesus died. But this amalgamation called Unitarian Universalism — that’s something new and different.

    What makes us different? Right off the top of my head, I can name three things that make us different. First, when the feminist revolution started in the 1960s, we were ready for it and we adopted feminist theology wholeheartedly; so that now half our ministers are women, and our principles and purposes reflect feminist theology and gender-neutral language. Second, we have made the decision that we are going to be a truly multicultural religion, in a country where most religious groups are racially divided; and in 2001 we became the first historically white denomination in the United States to elect a person of color as our president. Third, we can only be described as a post-Christian religion; for while many of us would call ourselves Christians, more than half of us would not.

    And this brings us to Easter, and leads us to ask ourselves how it is that we Unitarian Universalists understand Easter. The old Unitarians had a pretty straightforward interpretation of Easter:– they knew that Jesus wasn’t God, which meant Easter became a more human drama. The old Universalists had a pretty straightforward interpretation of Easter:– they knew that hell doesn’t exist, which meant everyone gets to go to heaven, which meant that Jesus didn’t “die for our sins”. But what about us Unitarian Universalists — how is it that we understand Easter? Here’s one way we might tell the Easter story.

    So on Good Friday, Jesus of Nazareth was put to death, and since his followers were Jewish, they didn’t want to bury him on the Sabbath day, which lasted through Saturday night. First thing on Sunday morning, then, two people who were particularly close to him, two women named Mary who were particularly important leaders in the little group of followers, went to reclaim Jesus’s body. But the body was gone — maybe the Romans took it away to discourage Jesus’s followers, maybe there was miscommunication among Jesus’s followers, who knows what happened — but the body was gone.

    Looking back two thousand years later, we can understand why some people wanted to say that Jesus rose from the dead; that’s a very easy way to explain away his body’s disappearance. But as feminists, we might want to tell the story differently. Yes, someone took the body away — if it was due to political or religious skulduggery, then we say, A pox upon those who perpetrated such an evil deed. But we also admire those women for having the presence of mind to leave the tomb as quickly as possible so that they wouldn’t get arrested — as feminists, we know that sometimes you have to save your own body from destruction so that you can take care of the next generation.

    And so those women went back to the other followers of Jesus, and the followers of Jesus organized themselves, and began to spread out over the countryside, forming new little communities throughout the ancient Near East. Within a generation after the death of Jesus, we know that there were many strong women leaders in those early Christian communities — we know, because we read about them in Paul’s letters. They had formed communities so that they could pass on the wisdom of Jesus to succeeding generations — they made sure that their children would be raised with the highest moral and ethical ideals.

    That’s one way that we Unitarian Universalists would tell the story of Easter, based on our understanding of feminist theology. Here’s another way we might tell the story:

    Jesus managed to transcend cultural and ethnic barriers. That the story he told of the Good Samaritan? — that was a story of how someone from one ethnic minority, a Samaritan, was willing to help someone from another ethnic minority, a Jew, in a time of trouble. Jesus taught that we should love our neighbors as we love ourselves — and he said that we had to do this across ethnic and racial boundaries.

    Now this kind of teaching was troubling for the authorities of the Roman Empire. The Romans had united a huge empire through military force, and they kept their empire together by forcing everyone to conform to Roman religion, Roman standards, and Roman laws. The Romans ruled, not by loving their neighbors, but by dominating their neighbors.

    So when, in the obscure province of Judea, there was a crazy religious prophet named Jesus who preached the radical doctrine that all peoples could learn to live together in harmony, the local officials determined that he was a possible threat to Roman rule, and for the purposes of internal Roman security he had to be arrested and put to death.

    But although they managed to execute Jesus of Nazareth, they were completely unable to kill off his high ideals. His body might have died, but his teaching lived on:– that we can learn to love our neighbors, even though they may be a different racial or ethnic group than we are; that we can learn how to united and create a truly just and peaceful world, even as people around us try to exploit racial divisions to divide us.

    That might be another way we Unitarian Universalists tell the story of Easter, based on our understanding of multicultural ideals. And there’s another way we might tell the story. As a post-Christian faith, we find we are not limited by the old Christian dogmas of Easter, and we are open to multiple points of view, and multiple personal interpretations of Easter. So we could even tell the Easter story like this:

    So Jesus was a Jewish preacher and social activist who demanded justice for all persons, no matter what their ethnic background, no matter what economic status. In his fight for human rights and social justice, he ran afoul of powerful political figures and religious leaders in a Jerusalem that was dominated by the Roman Empire. He was arrested on trumped-up charges, and sentenced to death in a trial that proceeded without any sense of true justice. He was publicly executed using a particularly violent form of execution to serve as an example to everyone else that they had better just sit down, shut up, and toe the Roman line. And when several of his closest associates went to claim his body for burial, it was gone. But, his followers decided, what mattered wasn’t the physical body of Jesus. What truly mattered was the life of justice that Jesus lived. What truly mattered was what he taught. What truly mattered was to carry his work forward into the future, so that future generations might live better lives. In this post-Christian telling of the Easter story, we discover that we do not have to believe in some miraculous resurrection in order to believe in what Jesus taught — there are many ways to believe in Jesus

    The story of Easter does matter for us. We may not understand Easter the way the older, more traditional Christian groups understand it. We may not even understand Easter quite in the same way that the older Unitarian and Universalist groups understood Easter. We may even have differing points of view about Easter among ourselves — individually we may range from liberal Christians to atheists, we might have pagan, Jewish, or Buddhist viewpoints. But we can all understand Easter as a story of how one man, Jesus of Nazareth, was executed for teaching justice and love — and we can all celebrate how the truth he taught lived on even after his death.

  • Why Go to Church?

    This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper at First Unitarian Church in New Bedford. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2008 Daniel Harper.

    Readings

    The first reading is from the journals of Lucy Maud Montgomery, the entry dated August 23, 1901:

    “I sometimes ask myself why, after all, I go to church so regularly. Well, I go for a jumble of reasons, some of which are very good, and others very flimsy and ashamed of themselves. It’s the respectable thing to do — this is one of the flimsy ones — and I would be branded a black sheep if I didn’t go. Then, in this quiet uneventful land, church is really a social function and the only regular one we have. We get out, see our friends and are seen of them, and air our best clothes which otherwise would be left for the most part to the tender mercies of moth and rust.

    “Oh, you miserable reasons! Now for a few better ones!

    “I go to church because I think it well to shut the world out from my soul now and then and look my spiritual self squarely in the face. I go because I think it well to search for truth everywhere, even if we never find it in its entirety; and finally I go because all the associations of the church and service make for good and bring the best that is in me to the surface — the memories of old days, old friends, childish aspirations for the beautiful and sacred. All these come back, like the dew of some spiritual benediction — and so I go to church.”

    [The Selected Journals of L. M. Montgomery: Volume I: 1889-1910, ed. Mary Rubio and Elizabeth Waterston (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1985), p. 262]

    The second reading is from A Black Theology of Liberation by James Cone:

    “Because the church knows that the world is where human beings are dehumanized, it can neither retreat from the world nor embrace it. Retreating is tantamount to a denial of its calling to share in divine liberation….

    “…There is no place for sheltered piety. Who can “pray” when all hell has broken loose and human existence is being trampled underfoot by evil forces? Prayer takes on new meaning. It has nothing to do with those Bible verses that rulers utter before eating their steaks, in order to remind themselves that they are religious and have not mistreated anybody. Who can thank God for food when we know that our brothers and sisters are starving as we dine like kings?

    “Prayer is not kneeling morning, noon, and evening. This is a tradition that is characteristic of whites; they use it to reinforce the rightness of their destruction of blacks. Prayer is the spirit that is evident in all oppressed communities when they know that they have a job to do. It is the communication with the divine that makes them know that they have very little to lose in the fight against evil and a lot to gain…. To retreat from the world is to lose one’s life and become what others say we are.

    “Embracing the world is also a denial of the gospel. The history of traditional Christianity… show the danger of this procedure. Identifying the rise of nationalism with Christianity, capitalism with the gospel, or exploration of outer space with the advancement of the kingdom of God serves only to enhance the oppression of the weak….

    “The difficulty of defining the meaning of the church and it involvement in the world stems from the unchurchly behavior of institutional white churches. They have given the word “church” a bad reputation for those interested in fighting against human suffering. Because of the unchristian behavior of persons who say they are Christians, “church” in America may very well refer to respectable murderers, who destroy human dignity while “worshipping” God and feeling no guilt about it.”

    [pp. 132-134]

    Sermon

    This morning, I had planned to preach a sermon titled “Spirit of the Sea”; it was to be a sermon on Buddhism, but I realized I needed to do more reading and study before I could pull it off. And then I found myself tangled up in what felt to me to be a more urgent question. That more urgent question was quite simple: Why go to church? Although attendance at Unitarian Universalist churches has been slowly creeping upwards for the pat twenty-five years, generally speaking here in the United States we have been seeing a trend of declining church attendance. And declining church attendance is only one manifestation of the wider social phenomenon of general civic disengagement. Here in the United States, people are pulling back from all organized groups, not just churches.

    The effect of all this is straightforward and personal. Those of us who do go to church have to deal with friends and family members who ask us: So — why do you go to church?

    Perhaps if we were traditional Christians, we’d have an easy traditional answer: We’d say, We go to church to worship God and to acknowledge (what is the traditional formula?) Jesus as our Lord and Savior — that’s what we might say if we happened to be traditional Christians. In fact, there are some Unitarian Universalists who are fairly traditional Christians, and who might in fact give that answer for themselves. But if we’re going to speak more generally, we have to recognize that the majority of us Unitarian Universalists do not believe in a traditional Christian God, and so we do not say that the reason to go to a Unitarian Universalist church to worship God.

    So why do we go to church?

    1. In the late 19th C., it would have been easier for us to answer this question. Not that we would have given the traditional Christian answer. Here in First Unitarian, there were already a significant number of people who did not believe in a traditional Christian God by the middle of the 19th C. John Weiss, minister here from 1847-1859, was a radical Transcendentalist — the scholar Gary Dorrien has called him an advocate of “post-Christian” religion. Weiss’s successor here, William Potter, who finally retired in 1892 was almost as radical as Weiss. Thus, by the mid-19th C., you would not say that people came to this church was to worship God — because many of them, including the ministers, did not.

    But in the 19th C., it was unlikely that anyone would ask you why you went to church. There were many more reasons to go to church than there are now. We heard some of those reasons in the first reading. You went to church because in a small, quiet city like this one, church was one of the only regular social functions. In a history of this church written in 1938, William Emery spoke of this when he recalled what it was like to attend church when he was a boy in the late 19th C.: “And then those late Sunday night vespers! Held in an era when the world was not full of diversions that kept people away from the evening service, vespers were always a center of attraction, for the young people as well as the elders. High School boys might have gone chiefly for the especial purpose of escorting the girls home — the stag line formed on the sidewalk — but they went, and the church was filled.” Thus it was that in the youth of William Emery, people went to church because it was a social function: they went to see their friends, to show off their best clothes, perhaps to flirt a little bit. We have so many leisure-time activities now that the old social function of church is no longer so important; but once it was very important.

    In the first reading this morning, we heard another reason why people went to church: because it was the respectable thing to do. This reason continued to be in force right the middle part of the 20th C. My Unitarian mother once told me that she had been brought up with the dictum that once she grew up, she would be expected to attend the nearest Unitarian church whether she liked it or not. And in the 1950’s, when she got a teaching job in Wilmington, Delaware, she went to the Wilmington Unitarian church, and when she was asked to teach Sunday school, she did so — because that was what one did. Many people went to church in the 1950’s, simply because it was the respectable thing to do. I once heard someone describe it this way: in the 1950’s, it was as if a dump truck backed up to the front door of your church and delivered a whole batch of newcomers every week. You didn’t have to be all that welcoming, you didn’t have to advertise — in the 1950’s, people showed up at your church because that’s what people did in the 1950’s. This was true throughout society. The decade of the 1950’s was a high point of civic engagement in the United States: you went to church, you joined a bowling league, you did volunteer work, you belonged to social clubs. Nobody asked why you went to church: you went because everybody went, and it was the respectable thing to do.

    The late 19th C. and the 1950’s represent high points of church membership and attendance here at First Unitarian. Almost nobody asked why you went to church, because it was taken as a given in the wider society that people just went to church. But now we are in a time when fewer and fewer people actually do go to church. According to polls taken in the last decade, maybe two fifths of the United States population go to church once a month or more. Maybe one fifth of the United States population goes to church every week. We know from sociological studies like the book Bowling Alone that this is part of a wider pattern of civic disengagement. And so nowadays we find ourselves having to answer the question: Why do you go to church?

    2. Lucy Maud Montgomery offers three more reasons why we might go to church. Even though she was writing more than a hundred years ago, I find her reasons still hold up today. She says:

    “[1] I go to church because I think it well to shut the world out from my soul now and then and look my spiritual self squarely in the face. [2] I go because I think it well to search for truth everywhere, even if we never find it in its entirety; … [3] I go because all the associations of the church and service make for good and bring the best that is in me to the surface.”

    We can group these three reasons together under the general heading of “Personal Reasons”. You will notice that Lucy Maud Montgomery does not mention anything about worshipping God, or accepting Jesus as some sort of personal savior. Nor does she say that by going to church she is going to somehow make the world a better place. Instead, she gives three reasons that have to do with her own self. Let’s consider each of these reasons.

    First, she says she goes to church to shut out the outside world for a short time and look her spiritual self in the face. She does not pretend that she could do this entirely on her own; she is wise and knows that it’s very easy to fool yourself about your personal spiritual progress. All the major world religions have a strong communal component to them, because we human beings seem to need the presence of other human beings to be entirely truthful with ourselves. I know I find it easy to tell myself what a great guy I am. But then I go to church, a community where we talk about the highest standards of moral conduct and spiritual progress, and I find that I fall quite short of being a great guy; I may be a great guy in one or two places in my life, but in many more I do not live up to the highest moral standards nor the highest standards of spiritual progress. So, like Lucy Maud Montgomery, I go to church so that I can have a good honest look at who I really am. Mind you, this isn’t about feeling guilty, it’s about being honest with yourself. It’s not always pleasant, but I have found it to be better than deluding myself.

    Second, Lucy Maud Montgomery says she goes to church because she thinks it well to search for truth, even if we never quite find truth in its entirety. She does not think that she can do this on her own, even though she was a writer and a particularly thoughtful person; when she says that she goes to church to search for truth, she is saying that the search for truth must be a communal affair. Scientists and scholars tell us the same thing: science and scholarship depend on having communities of inquirers investigating questions together. Not that churches are meant to investigate scientific or scholarly truths; churches are places where we investigate what it means for you and me to be human; churches are places where we investigate big issues of morality and reality; churches are places where we link the big truths to our own personal lives. This may not be true for you, but personally I’d say this is my chief personal reason for going to church: to search for truth.

    Lucy Maud Montgomery’s third personal reason for going to church is because the service brings out the best in her. I have my own ideas why I think this is so. According to the sociologist Mark Chaves, in his comprehensive 2004 study Congregations in America, “whether or not worshippers know it, and whether or not people generally come to congregations and worship services in search of art or beauty, a substantial amount of artistic activity in fact occurs in congregations, and congregations both inside and outside of worship thereby expose large numbers of people to art.” [p. 179] Chaves goes on to say that churches are one of the primary venues for the arts in United States culture today. So art is a part of churches.

    For me, the whole purpose of art is to bring out the best in persons; at least, I seek out art as a way of reminding myself of the best that is in me. In our congregation, we emphasize art quite a bit. In our church, we get to hear the finest church musicians I have had the pleasure of working with, and we also have other excellent musicians and a Folk Choir that continues to impress me; we have a really quite extraordinary building, and this fine Tiffany mosaic behind me; I try to make an effort to include excellent poetry and prose and the greatest religious literature in our worship services, church being one of the few venues where you get to hear great literature read aloud. Spoken word, visual art and architecture, music — and maybe someday we’ll include occasional bits of drama and dance. The arts are central to who we are as a congregation; and the appreciation of the arts brings out the best that is in us.

    These, then, are three personal reasons for going to church: to take a good honest look at our spiritual selves; to seek together after truth; and to bring out the best in our selves. If someone asks you why you go to church, you could give any one of these answers. Or you could even simply say that you go to church to save your soul — although you would mean something utterly different than the traditional Christian sense of saving souls; you would mean to be the best person you can.

    3. The second reading this morning, from the book A Black Theology of Liberation by the African American theologian James Cone, offers yet another powerful reason for going to church. He says we go to church to fight human suffering. I think he would be a little impatient with the three personal reasons for going to church that we have just heard. He is certainly critical of praying morning, noon, and night — something he says that white churches do as a way of reinforcing their destruction of other people. He says: “There is no place for sheltered piety. Who can ‘pray’ when all hell has broken loose and human existence is being trampled underfoot by evil forces? Prayer takes on new meaning.”

    James Cone is right to take some churches to task for ignoring racism and the oppression of people of color. And after he wrote his book, back in 1970, he was himself taken to task by feminists, both black and white, for leaving women out of his book; for women might equally well ask, Who can ‘pray’ when all hell has broken loose and women, of all skin colors, are being trampled underfoot by evil forces? Later James Cone came to agree with this point, and he wrote: “Black theology is not only a force against racism but also against sexism and any evil done in the name of God and humanity.” Here is this church, we might add a few other evils done in the name of God and humanity. We might talk about the evil that is done in the name of God and humanity against gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender persons. We might talk about the evil that is done in the name of God and humanity against poor people — and let’s face it, these days the evil that is done against working class and middle class people as well. Or the evil done against people with different physical and mental abilities. Here in the United States, racism deserves our special attention, and we must acknowledge that; but as religious persons, we also want to be sure to extend James Cones’s theology of liberation to anybody who is being trampled underfoot by evil forces.

    All this leads us to another reason why we go to church:–

    James Cone tells us that a church that takes liberation seriously does not withdraw from the world; neither does that church embrace the world. We go to church to be in the world, but not entirely of the world. If all we cared about was our own personal spiritual and religious progress, we could remove ourselves from the world and go to those wonderful weekend spiritual retreats, way off in one of those countryside retreat centers, where you get to do personal spiritual practices to your heart’s content. Or if all we cared about was engaging with the world and doing social justice, we wouldn’t waste our time in church, we’d just go off and do social justice on Sunday mornings.

    One extreme is to retreat from the world; the other extreme is to plunge completely into the world. But we follow a middle way. Yes, we stay in touch with that which is highest in best in humanity, which some of us call God: the arts help us to do that, taking the time to seek after truth helps us to do that, taking a good honest look at our spiritual selves helps us to do that. And we also engage the world, we take those insights out into the world and fight evil and human suffering.

    So we try to find a balance between retreat and engagement. We are a church, and that is different from being a non-profit social justice organization that efficiently delivers social services or efficiently engages in affecting public policy. We are a churchy, and that is different from being a spiritual retreat center. We attempt to maintain a balance between doing social justice on the one hand, and staying in touch with what is highest and best in humanity on the other hand. And it’s a balance — we’ll always be teetering to one side or the other, we’re never going to get it exactly right, and it will always be a little bit different for every individual among us.

    Yet notice that there are concrete things we do right now to fight injustice. Our church is a training ground for leadership and organization — churches are one of the best places to learn the leadership and organizational skills necessary in non-profits or to affect public policy. Our church is a place where we combine our individual voices into one voice big enough (we hope) to affect public policy; as we did recently during the fight to retain the right to same sex marriage here in the state of Massachusetts. And our church can be a conduit for helping to provide direct social services to those in need, as we do with the thrift shop in the basement, and our soup kitchen crew, and the food pantry box, and the money we periodically collect for non-profit agencies. Each of these is a concrete way that we remain engaged — while staying apart from, and critical of, the world.

    So it is that when someone asks you why you go to church, one valid response you can give is this: I go to church to save the world.

    And now that we are almost done, I think this counts as my annual sermon about why we should support our church financially, since the reasons I go to church are the same reasons I give two and one half percent of my gross annual income to the church.

    Why do we go to church? In our society, as fewer people do go to church, we find ourselves having to answer this question. Why do we go to church? We go to church to see our friends, and maybe some of us go to church because it is the respectable thing to do. We go to church for personal reasons: to look honestly at our spiritual selves, to seek together after truth, and to bring out the best in our selves. We go to church to gain perspective while remaining engaged with the world, remaining engaged in the fight to end human suffering.

    We go to church to save our own selves, and we go to church to save the world. That’s why I go to church.

  • African Wisdom

    This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper at First Unitarian Church in New Bedford. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2008 Daniel Harper.

    The first reading is from Cornel West’s 2004 book Democracy Matters. West is professor of religion at Princeton University. In the chapter titled “The Crisis of Christian Identity in America,” West writes:

    “The religious threats to democratic practices abroad are much easier to talk about that those at home. Just as demagogic and antidemocratic fundamentalisms have gained too much prominence in both Israel and the Islamic world, so too has a fundamentalist strain of Christianity gained far too much power in our political system, and in the hearts and minds of citizens. This Christian fundamentalism is exercising and undue influence over our government policies, both in the Middle East crisis and in the domestic sphere, and is violating fundamental principles enshrined in the Constitution; it is also providing support and ‘cover’ for the imperialist aims of empire. The three dogmas that are leading to the imperial devouring of democracy in America — free-market fundamentalism, aggressive militarism, and escalating authoritarianism — are often justified by the religious rhetoric of this Christian fundamentalism. And perhaps most ironically — and sadly — this fundamentalism is subverting the most profound, seminal teachings of Christianity, those being that we should live with humility, love our neighbors, and do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Therefore, even as we turn a critical eye on the fundamentalisms at play in the Middle East, the genuine and democratic Christians among us must unite in opposition to this hypocritical, antidemocratic fundamentalism at home. The battle for the soul of American democracy is, in large part, a battle for the soul of American Christianity, because the dominant forms of Christian fundamentalism are a threat to the tolerance and openness necessary for sustaining any democracy. Yet the best of American Christianity has contributed greatly to preserving and expanding American democracy. The basic distinction between Constantinian Christianity and prophetic Christianity is crucial for the future of American democracy….”

    [pp.]

    The second reading is from a speech titled “Protect Human Rights, Protect Planetary Rights,” which was given by Wangari Maathai at the initial meeting of the United Nations Human Rights Council, in Geneva, Switzerland on June 19, 2006. Ms. Maathai was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004 for her work in protecting the environment in Kenya. In her speech, Ms. Maathai said in part:

    “The Nobel Peace Prize in 2004 was… historic because it emphasized, for the first time, the need for the world: to rethink peace and security vis-à-vis the environment, to recognize the close linkage between sustainable management of resources, good governance and peace.

    “You will remember that some people wondered aloud, ‘What is the relationship between peace and trees or peace and the environment?’ That was the challenge! To reflect and discover the linkage between our ability to maintain peace, respect for human rights, and the way we govern ourselves and manage our limited resources. Unless we understood this linkage, we would continue to deal with symptoms of war and conflicts. Yet the root cause of most conflicts is the desire to access and control the limited resources on our planet earth. We find many justifications for our actions because we are not willing to say upfront what drives our willingness to violate the rights of other human beings. We often argue that our actions are for the good of our victims. We know better what is good for them. Sometimes we many even claim that the divine have been in touch with us and has entrusted us with the power to decide the destiny of others.

    “Therefore, to pre-empt conflict we must consciously and deliberately manage resources more sustainably, responsibly and accountably. We also need to share these resources more equitably both at the national level and at the global level. The only way we can do so is if we practise good governance.”

    Sermon

    Originally, I had planned to preach a sermon titled “African Souls” this Sunday. I decided to preach a political sermon instead. No, I’m not going to endorse a presidential candidate; the Board of Trustees would prefer that I don’t endanger the tax-exempt status of our congregation. Rather, I’m going to preach about the absence of morals and religious values in American politics — that is, the absence of morals and religious values with which I feel comfortable — and I’m going to suggest that we might turn to some overlooked sources to find morals and religious values that we religious liberals could inject into American political life.

    To begin with, let me see if I can be more precise about this absence of morals and religious values in American politics. Many politicians do talk about morals and religious values, and they often couch this talk in terms of moderate or conservative Christianity. However, they typically seem to profess the curious form of Christianity known as “prosperity Christianity,” whose adherents seriously believe that “God desires Christians to be prosperous” [Partridge 2004, 91]; many of our politicians seem to seriously believe that the mark of a good Christian is being rich, whereas it’s a moral failure to be poor or even middle-class. I’m not making this up, as Dave Barry is wont to say: prosperity Christianity really does exist, and scholars tell us that in liberal, free-market economies, the prosperity gospel actually promotes church growth.

    But for someone like me, the accumulation of money and wealth, while pleasant enough, does not tell me much about the ultimate meaning of life; nor does it represent an adequate moral framework. If our only purpose in life is to accumulate wealth and protect free-market economics, then I would say that we Americans no longer seem to have a larger purpose in life; our only purpose is to get lots of money. We see this tendency in our politicians: it is a commonplace to say that American politicians are beholden to the moneyed interests that elected them, which is another way of saying they really don’t believe in anything at all, except money.

    Of course this is an age-old problem, arising from an age-old question: Do we hold ourselves to some sort of higher value system, or is the only true value political expediency? In the Western religious tradition of which we are a part, this problem goes back at least to the time of the Roman Emperor Constantine, who converted to Christianity, and who incorporated Christianity into the political life of the Roman Empire by watering down its more radical teachings. As Cornel West says, “The Roman emperor Constantine’s incorporation of Christianity within the empire gave Christianity legitimacy and respectability but robbed it of the prophetic fervor of Jesus.” [West 2004, 147] The early prophetic Christians had striven towards the timeless values of living in humility, loving your neighbor, and doing to others as you would have them do to you; whereas Constantinian Christians were willing to compromise these values in order to gain political power and protection. This tension exists as well among religious folk who aren’t Christians: do you take a prophetic stance and declare your deepest values despite the inevitable political cost of doing so? — or do you find political expediency more important than clinging mindlessly to certain values? — or is there some middle ground between these extremes?

    I take this question very seriously. How do we balance our highest moral and religious values with political expediency? Sadly, I find that the mainstream political writers in this country do not help me answer this question as a religious person — because in today’s United States, most of the religious folk who write about politics are either political conservatives who are also conservative Christians (you know who they are); or politically liberals who are moderate-to-conservative Christians (people like Jim Wallis of Sojourners magazine); but neither group offers me much religious inspiration. Thus I find myself looking outside the American political mainstream for inspiration. And, appropriately enough for Black History month, recently I have been most inspired by contemporary Africans and people of African descent. So in order to explore this question of how we balance our moral and religious values with political expediency, I’m going to tell you three stories of Black history — not Black history from decades ago, but Black history being made right now.

     

    I’d like to begin with Wangari Maathai, the Kenyan citizen who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004. Wangari Maathai is a truly remarkable woman on many counts. She was the first woman in East and Central Africa to receive a doctoral degree; after receiving her master’s degree at the University of Pittsburgh in the United States, in 1971 she was awarded a Ph.D. in biology by the University College of Nairobi. She worked as a professor of veterinary anatomy at the University of Nairobi for many years. She was elected to the Parliament of Kenya, and served as Assistant Minister for Environment and Natural Resources from 2003 to 2007.

    But the most remarkable thing that Wangari Maathai did was to found an organization called the Green Belt Movement back in 1977. Dr. Maathai became aware that the countryside of Kenya was undergoing significant environmental degradation [Maathai 2006, 121]. Being a trained scientist, she couldn’t help wondering about the causes of these changes in the environment: what had lead to this deforestation, devegetation, and unsustainable agriculture that she observed? She decided that part of the problem lay in practices imported by the European powers who colonized Africa. She said,

    “Many aspects of the cultures of our ancestors had protected Kenya’s environment. Before the Europeans arrived, the peoples of Kenya did not look at trees and see timber, or at elephants and see commercial ivory stock, or at cheetahs and see beautiful skins for sale. But when Kenya was colonized and we encountered Europeans, with their knowledge, technology, understanding, religion, and culture — all of it new — we converted our values into a cash economy like theirs. Everything was now perceived as having a monetary value. As we were to learn, if you can sell it, you can forget about protecting it.” [Maathai, Unbowed: A Memoir, (New York: Knopf, 2006), p. 175]

    Thus, Dr. Maathai began to question the free market values. Using free market values, what is most important is whether or not you can sell something: if you can, it has value, but its value lies in how much money you can get for it. However, she saw this was a questionable kind of moral value scheme.

    In one of the most famous incidents from her career as a social activist, in 1989 she became aware that the government of Kenya was preparing to sell off Nairobi’s Uhuru Park. Remember that in 1989, the government of Kenya was a one-party state run by the corrupt political regime of President Daniel Arap Moi. Dr. Maathai already knew that this corrupt regime did things like clear-cutting forests that were supposed to be protected. But the proposed destruction of Uhuru Park was too blatant to be dismissed: President Moi was going to illegally turn over the land of this national park to some of his close business associates so that they could build a 60-story skyscraper that was of questionable economic benefit to anyone. So Dr. Maathai notified the press, wrote letters to the international community, and generally stirred up questions about the proposed development. The government slandered her, calling her a “wayward” woman. But Dr. Maathai persevered, and continued to make efforts to work with the government to resolve the problem. In the end, she won her point: the government decided to abandon their plans to develop Uhuru Park.

    In this story of Uhuru Park, we can see how Dr. Maathai made connections between democratic principles, sustainability and environmentalism, and larger moral issues. She made it clear that democratic principles require openness and transparency in all government dealings; she held the government to the highest standards of fair governance. She made it clear it was not acceptable to destroy a park in the middle of Nairobi just so that some people could profit under free-market principles. She was able to show the women of Kenya that a woman could have power and influence; indeed, within a decade, Dr. Maathai herself had been elected a member of Parliament.

    Over the course of her career, Dr. Maathai has consistently stood up for her highest moral values. She is a Christian, the kind of Christian who takes seriously the Christian teaching that we must consider the plight of poor and powerless persons. She acts on behalf of such people as a matter of moral principle. Her deep moral values allow her to see the essential connections between women’s rights, democracy, environmental activism, and sustainable practices. But she is also willing to work with the government — even to work within the government as a member of Parliament — in order to further her highest moral goals.

    We Americans often feel that we ought to be helping out those backward Africans; but here is an example of how we might learn a great deal from an African woman who is more advanced than we are: we can learn from Wangari Maathai’s ability to use morality and ultimate meaning to transform the world around her, creating a sustainable and democratic society.

     

    We don’t have to travel as far as Kenya, however, to find Black history in the making. Dr. Cornel West, a brilliant philosopher who happens to be of African descent, is another person making history now. He has been inspiring me to think in new ways about morality and religious values in a free market world, and about how to balance my religious values with political expediency.

    I have long been interested in Cornel West as a thinker. My undergraduate degree is in philosophy, so I first learned about Dr. West through his work on American pragmatism, particularly his 1989 book The American Evasion of Philosophy.

    But I got interested in Cornel West as a person back in 2001. At that time, Lawrence Summers, then president of Harvard University, reportedly chastised Cornel West for doing things like recording a rap CD and working on political campaigns. Summers apparently thought West should focus on publishing scholarly books; but West said he thought Summers was just being disrespectful. So West left Harvard for Princeton; and I have to say, I don’t blame him. I don’t like this idea that we have to distinguish between scholarly intellectual activity on the one hand, from popular and political action on the other hand. That’s an artificial distinction, akin to the artificial distinction that says religion should not try to change the world.

    In any case, when his book titled Democracy Matters was published in 2004, I bought it immediately. I wanted to hear what this topnotch thinker, and interesting person, had to say about the current state of American democracy.

    Dr. West says that the greatest threats to American democracy “come in the form of… three dominating, antidemocratic dogmas.” As a Unitarian Universalist who hates dogma in any shape or form, that helps me to understand what I find so frustrating about American politics today:– American politics is dominated by dogmas, that is, by beliefs that are taken on faith alone and which cannot be questioned in public without risking censure from those in authority.

    Dr. West names those three dogmas: free-market fundamentalism; aggressive militarism; and escalating authoritarianism. As a religious liberal, I found myself nodding in agreement. Yes, our obsession with free-market economics is a kind of fundamentalism, something we are supposed to believe in literally and without question, just like fundamentalist religion. Yes, our militarism goes far beyond the idea of loving our neighbors. Yes, I do see escalating authoritarianism in the United States, and it reminds me of fundamentalist religions which demand unquestioning obedience.

    In short, Dr. West makes the case that a certain kind of fundamentalist Christianity is dominating American culture, forcing us to think and act as if we are fundamentalists ourselves. For example, when it comes to free-market economics, we are supposed to either accept the concept without question, or reject it completely and be branded as a “pinko” heretic — thus effectively stifling any possible religious objections to free-market principles. No wonder I have been feeling so alienated from the American political scene — as a religious liberal, I am anti-dogmatic and anti-authoritarian, and so I simply cannot feel comfortable in an American political scene that has been shaped in the image of fundamentalist Christianity.

    From his liberal Christian perspective, Dr. West puts it this way: “The battle for the soul of American democracy is, in large part, a battle for the soul of American Christianity, because the dominant forms of Christian fundamentalism are a threat to the tolerance and openness necessary for sustaining any democracy.” I took that statement to heart, and that is one of the reasons I now preach on the Bible so often. The fundamentalists have so much power in our country that they have taken the Bible, a book that is all about how we are supposed to take care of our neighbors and help the poor and oppressed; they have taken the Bible and turned it into an excuse for ignoring the poor, oppressing women, and invading foreign countries. As Cornel West might say, rather than putting religion in service of authoritarianism, it’s time for us to reclaim the prophetic function of religion.

     

    I have one more example of Black history in the making, but this example is very short, because it is so new. Back in 2004, a group of students at Makerere Univeristy in Mampala, Uganda, started small Unitarian Universalist congregation. I have been told that they found out about Unitarian Universalism via the World Wide Web, although I have been able to find very little in the way of solid information about this congregation.

    This small group of students kept meeting, and they have grown until now, four years later, they have 150 members in Kampala, and another 50 members in another region outside the city. Their Web site says that they are mostly English-speaking, that they dress casually, and that their worship services are lively. And, in a statement that reminds me of our own congregation, they say that they welcome all people, no matter what age, sex, culture, or skin color. That’s about all I can tell you about the Unitarian Universalists in Uganda, except to add that a central focus of their congregations is an AIDS outreach program. Small as they are, they have begun an ambitious program to support children with AIDS, and children who are AIDS orphans.

    I am very curious about this four-year-old congregation. How did they grow from nothing to 200 members in two congregations in just four years? This is an especially remarkable achievement given the general religious climate in Uganda is quite conservative — the fastest-growing religious groups are Pentecostals, evangelical mega-churches spouting prosperity gospel, and the like. How has this group of Unitarian Universalists grown as fast as they have? I suspect part of their secret for success is that they reject the idea of a free-market prosperity gospel:– they know you don’t go to church to learn how to become rich, you go to church to live out the timeless values of living in humility, loving your neighbor, and doing to others as you would have them do to you. Expediency is less important to them than actually living out their deepest values.

     

    As I watch the Democrats and the Republicans during the presidential primaries, I am really unsure that either party is going to be able to put political expediency in service of their highest moral values; I worry that they will,, as usual, sacrifice their values to political expediency. So I turn elsewhere for inspiration on how to live out my own values inn the real world — I turn to people like Wangari Maathai, Cornel West, and the Ugandan Unitarian Universalists. These three examples of Black history in the making; these three examples of Africans and African Americans living out their values in the world; these are three examples are inspiring me as I try to live out my moral and religious values in the real world.