Sermon copyright (c) 2024 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation. The text below may have typographical errors, missing words, etc., because I didn’t have time to make corrections.
Readings
The first reading was a short poem by Unitarian poet Celia Thaxter:
The waves of Time may devastate our lives,
The frosts of age may check our failing breath,
They shall not touch the spirit that survives
Triumphant over doubt and pain and death.
The second reading was from an essay titled “What Do Unitarian Universalists Believe?” by Duncan Howlett, written in 1967 while he was the minister of All Souls Unitarian Universalist Church in Washington, D.C.
In the first place, we reject all doctrines and creeds and theologies if they pretend to any finality. We think the fabrication of such systems valuable, but we do not believe one or another of them. But a Unitarian Universalist is not an unbeliever. In fact, a Unitarian Universalist believes a great deal. Our beliefs are of a different order, but they are nonetheless real.
We believe in humanity, that human beings are endowed with the power to move toward truth.
We believe that human beings are endowed with the discrimination by which to tell the difference between truth and falsehood and error. Yet we know human beings are fallible. We know that individuals make mistakes.
We believe humanity is to be trusted — not each human being, but humankind taken together, with the testimony of each checked against each.
We believe that humankind can find truth, know the right, and do good — again, not each individual, but taken together, with each checked against all the rest.
We believe human life has meaning, that the high purposes of humanity may be achieved and the spiritual nature of humanity indicates something about humankind and the cosmos as well.
We believe in the freedom we need if we are to find a sense of selfhood and if we are to find what is the truth for us. We believe in the faculties we possess and in those possessed by others also, for we must believe in our own fallibility, too.
We believe in the power of love to conquer hate and strife and in its power to suffuse our lives with the glory and the sense of reality that love alone can give.
In this faith we live, by it we labor, and through it we find the courage to carry on amidst all the tragedy, misery, and stupidity of life.
The third and final reading was a “found poem” noted by Everett Hoagland at the First Unitarian Church in New Bedford, Oct. 2006, titled “So Bet It” (not available online due to copyright restrictions).
Sermon: “Jetpig!”
Way back in 1887, William Channing Gannett, minister of the Unitarian church in St. Paul, Minnesota, was trying to come up with a way to unify the Unitarians of his day. This was not an easy task. Gannet was part of the so-called Western Unitarian Conference of the Midwest and the Plains states, a conference which encompassed a great diversity of belief. There were Christian Unitarians who believed in God, loved the Bible, and found their greatest inspiration in the life of Jesus. There were post-Christians who didn’t place much importance in belief in the Christian God, who read sacred texts from many different religions, and who were inspired by Jesus but also by Confucius, Buddha, Muhammad, and other spiritual leaders. And there were even a few proto-humanists as well. Among the ministers, there were men like William Greenleaf Eliot, from an elite East Coast family and with a graduate degree from Harvard. But there were also women like Mary Safford, from a Midwestern farm family and with only one year at the University of Iowa.
William Channing Gannett saw all this diversity, and tried to formulate a statement that would bring them together so they could work more effectively together. In an essay titled “Things Common Believed Today Among Us” tried to point out the commonalities among people in the Western Unitarian Conference. In that essay, he made an observation which still holds true today. He said:
“Because we have no ‘creed’ which we impose as a condition of fellowship, specific statements of belief abound among us, always somewhat differing, always largely agreeing.”
This remains true for us Unitarian Universalists today, with one small caveat. Some of us today no longer want to use the word “belief,” because the concept of “belief” is so central to Christianity; and we want to be even more inclusive. Today, we might rephrase Gannet’s words like this: “Because we have no ‘creed’ which we impose on others, statements of religious identity abound among us, always somewhat differing, always largely agreeing.”
Gannett was a Unitarian. The Universalist side of our heritage also refused to impose a creed on anyone. They avoided some of the chaos that confronted Gannett by adopting what they called a “profession of faith.” The Universalist professions of faith were agreed upon through a democratic process, and voted on by the delegates to the annual Universalist General Conference. I knew some older Universalists who still remembered the Washington Declaration of 1935, which said in part:
“…We avow our faith in God as Eternal and All-conquering Love, in the spiritual leadership of Jesus, in the supreme worth of every human personality, in the authority of truth known or to be known, and in the power of men of good-will and sacrificial spirit to overcome evil and progressively establish the Kingdom of God. Neither this nor any other statement shall be imposed as a creedal test, provided that the faith thus indicated be professed.”
That last sentence, often referred to as the “liberty clause,” is a crucial part of Universalist professions of faith. The liberty clause meant that even though individuals had to be in rough agreement with the sentiments behind the profession of faith, no individual had to agree in every detail. There was a great deal of room for interpretation. This was especially important in the mid-twentieth century, when a growing number of Universalists became humanists. Because of the liberty clause, the humanists did not have to conform to a literal interpretation of the Washington Declaration. The humanists could affirm the spirit of the Washington Declaration — they could affirm their faith in eternal and all-conquering love, while not having to believe in God.
The Universalist professions of faith had one big advantage over the chaos of Unitarianism: they gave individuals something to hang on to. I’ll give you one example of what I mean. Wells Behee was born in 1925, was raised as a Universalist and in adulthood became a Universalist minister. As a young man, Wells served in the Second World War. When he died in 2011, his friend and colleague Derek Parker wrote:
“During World War II, Wells served in the Navy. His military service included both the Atlantic and Pacific theaters of combat, including the Battle of Iwo Jima. Later in life Wells would frequently comment that the only thing which kept his sanity at Iwo Jima were his repeated praying of the Washington [Declaration].” (1) From Wells Behee’s experience at Iwo Jima, you can see how a profession of faith can be a powerful spiritual tool in times of crisis.
The Unitarians also had what amounted to professions of faith, statements which they used much like a profession of faith. In the twentieth century, many Unitarian children learned James Freeman Clarke’s “Five Points of a New Theology,” and some of you who have been Unitarians since the mid-twentieth century will remember “the fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of man, the leadership of Jesus, salvation by character, and progress onwards and upwards forever.” Those were Clarke’s “Five Points,” and they functioned as a kind of profession of faith. However, unlike the Universalist professions of faith, the Unitarian statements of faith were not developed through democratic process.
When the Unitarian and the Universalists joined forces in 1961, one of the things they decided to do was to come up with a statement that could help unify these two different movements. So a committee came together and came up with six principles that served as a unifying statement, and these six principles were made official by placing them in the bylaws of the new Unitarian Universalist Association. The six principles were a kind of profession of faith. But while they were worthy and high-minded sentiments, they were not especially memorable. I don’t remember ever hearing about them when I was a child.
Then in 1985, those old “six principles” were revised to remove sexist language, and they became the “seven principles.” The seven principles were expressed better than the six principles; the prose was livelier, the ideas more interesting . Because of this, the seven principles began to function as a kind of profession of faith. Personally, however, I always found them to be a bit too intellectual and dry, and not something that would give me much comfort and support in times of stress or trouble.
And this brings me to “Jet Pig.” In the Moment for All Ages today, you heard from the Sunday school about Jet Pig. Jet Pig is an acronym that stands for Justice, Equity, Transformation, Pluralism, Interdependence, and Generosity. These are the six shared values that were added to the “Principles and Purposes” section of the bylaws of the Unitarian Universalist Association this past June, during the Association’s annual business meeting. These new six shared values replace the former seven principles.
When the democratic process to revise the “seven principles” began three years ago, I was pretty skeptical. The first drafts of the revised principles and purposes were even more wordy than the “seven principles,” and (to my mind, anyway) even less memorable. Considered as an addition to the bylaws of the Unitarian Universalist association, I found the new revised principles and purposes to be fascinating. But as a spiritual resource, they seemed empty and boring.
As the democratic process continued over the next three years, more and more got added into the revised principles and purposes. Each time they were amended through the democratic process, they became longer, and wordier, and more painfully earnest. When it came time to vote on them — and I was one of this congregation’s delegates at the meeting in June — I wound up voting for the new revision. But because they were so boring and so convoluted and so painfully earnest, I assumed that they would be mostly ignored.
I did not take into account the creativity of the religious educators. Someone noticed that the six values articulated in the new revision formed the acronym “jet pig.” Religious educators picked up on this idea, and created Jet Pig characters to make these shared values seem fun and interesting and relevant. The humor of the Jet Pig character helped leaven the painful earnestness of the actual bylaws. I also appreciated that Jet Pig is memorable. I have a poor memory, and I spent nearly forty years not being able to remember the old seven principles. Now, because of Jet Pig, I can actually remember justice, equity, transformation, pluralism, interdependence, and … wait, what does “g” stand for? But even if I can’t remember every element of the Jet Pig acronym, I can easily remember the most important thing — love is at the center. Because that’s what the new principles and purposes say: that love is at the center.
In short, I like Jet Pig. I also like the fact that even if I can’t remember all six things that Jet Pig stands for, I can always remember that love is the central value. These strike me as positive developments in the wider Unitarian Universalist community. We have some shared values that we can articulate quickly and easily, and thanks to Jet Pig we can even have a sense of humor when we do so.
But I also remember what William Channing Gannett pointed out back in 1887. We don’t impose any creed or statement of belief, we don’t impose any profession of faith, upon individuals. In 1887, Gannett said, “specific statements of belief abound among us, always somewhat differing, always largely agreeing.” This continues to be true today. We allow, and even encourage, individuals to come up with their own statements of religious identity. In May, teens from our Coming of Age class will present their statements of religious identity during a Sunday service, and you’ll get to hear how they differ and how they agree. The rest of us can do the same thing: we can, and should, develop our own personal sense of religious identity.
For me personally, however, I need something more than a personal statement of religious identity. I want a communal sense of identity. The new principles and purposes in the bylaws of the Unitarian Universalist Association provide part of that communal sense of identity, but honestly I can’t see myself turning to them in times of personal trouble. Speaking entirely personally, I find more meaning in some of the words we heard this morning in readings.
I am moved by Duncan Howlett when he said, “I believe in the power of love to conquer hate and strife and in its power to suffuse our lives with the glory and the sense of reality that love alone can give.” That’s something I can hang onto in times of trouble.
I am moved by Celia Thaxter’s short poem that says:
The waves of Time may devastate our lives,
The frosts of age may check our failing breath,
They shall not touch the spirit that survives
Triumphant over doubt and pain and death.
Again, that’s something I can hang onto in times of trouble.
And I often find myself reciting Edwin Markham’s poem “Outwitted” to myself:
They drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout;
But love and I had the wit to win,
We drew a circle that took them in.
This poem has helped me through some rough spots in my personal life. And Edward Everett Hale’s little poem has been one of my constant companions:
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.
These words have helped me get through those times when I felt overwhelmed by all that needed to be done.
So it is that while Jet Pig (with love at the center) is proving to be a good way to articulate our shared values as a wider community, it is not sufficient. We each need to articulate our own personal sense of religious identity. And beyond that, each of us can choose whatever words or poetry work best for us, to help lift us up when we are down — to, as Everett Hoagland says in his short and humorous poem, lift us beyond belief.
Note
(1) Derek Parker, “In Memoriam: Mary and Wells Behee,” Dec. 17, 2011, posted on Rev. Scott Wells’s blog https://www.revscottwells.com/2011/12/17/in-memoriam-mary-and-wells-behee/