The Chalice and the Circle (and the Cross) [redux]

I delivered this sermon at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the Peninsula in August 2012, and the statistics gathered by WordPress tell me that it’s been viewed more than anything else I’ve posted, often as a result of somebody searching the Web for a phrase like “cross in a circle”.  In that time, however, most of the links I had used for examples of flaming chalice symbols have stopped working, and this month the Fellowship is running a competition to create our own symbol, so I’m bringing back this post to show those examples.  (I believe that they’ve been shared on-line for general use, but if that’s not the case, or if I have mis-attributed any of them, please let me know.)

In today’s Unitarian Universalist congregations it’s not hard to find chalices.  They’re lit at the beginning of our Sunday services, just as we did this morning, but we also light chalices to open Religious Education classes, our Fellowship Circle sessions and even our committee meetings, where a chalice-lighting helps to remind us that we are not a social group or a debating club or a political party but a religious community.  You’ll find flaming chalice symbols in print, on websites and made into jewelry.  As shown in the gallery below, you’ll also find them in many different designs: enclosed in a circle or a sunburst; with a stylized flame or a realistic flame or a rainbow-colored flame; made up of letters that spell out a word or including a peace sign, a recycling logo or a question mark; recognizing the importance of reaching out to Unitarian Universalists who serve in our nation’s armed forces.  Not only is the flaming chalice ubiquitous, a widely loved symbol of Unitarian Universalism, but lighting it is the single-most recognized ritual our faith embraces.

Now while the flaming chalice symbol goes back over seventy years, it’s only become a widely accepted part of our congregational life in the last twenty or thirty years.  There were no chalice lightings in Hymns for the Celebration of Life, the 1964 hymn book.  The flaming chalice appeared for the first time on an official Unitarian Universalist Association document only in 1976.  And our current hymn book, Singing the Living Tradition published in 1993, has only nine chalice lightings, but there are many more than that in use today.  So, you can see that in the last couple of decades the flaming chalice has caught on in a really big way!

What’s more, as these various examples show, the chalice symbol is, more often than not, enclosed in some sort of circle, or sometimes two overlapping circles, which are usually taken to represent the coming together of Unitarianism and Universalism.  This morning I’m going to reflect on the origins of these symbols — the chalice from Unitarianism and the circle from Universalism — as well as a third symbol that dropped out along the way.

Many of you have probably heard the story of the flaming chalice, but it’s a good story that bears repeating from time to time.  This is how Unitarian Universalist minister Dan Hotchkiss tells that story:

The chalice and the flame were brought together to make a symbol for Unitarian use by an Austrian artist named Hans Deutsch.  Living in Paris during the 1930s, Deutsch drew political cartoons that were critical of Adolf Hitler, so when the Nazis invaded Paris in 1940, Deutsch abandoned all he had and fled.  That was probably the right move!  He went first to the south of France, and then he went to Spain.  Finally, with an altered passport, Deutsch made it into Portugal, where Lisbon was the only open port remaining in Europe.

In Portugal, Deutsch met the Reverend Charles Joy, commissioner for Europe of the newly founded Unitarian Service Committee.  The Service Committee — a forerunner of today’s Unitarian Universalist Service Committee — had been founded in Boston to assist Eastern Europeans, including Unitarians and Jews, as well as artists, intellectuals and dissidents, to escape Nazi persecution.  From his headquarters in Lisbon, Joy oversaw a secret network of couriers and agents, helping to provide identification papers and travel documents that would allow refugees to escape to freedom.

Now Deutsch was most impressed with the work of the Unitarian Service Committee and was soon working for Joy.  Deutsch had never seen a Unitarian — or, for that matter, a Universalist — church, but what he had seen was faith in action, with Joy and the other members of the Service Committee willing to risk everything for others in a time of urgent need.  Deutsch wanted to help.

In 1940, the Unitarian Service Committee was an unknown organization.  That put them at a disadvantage in the war-time environment, when establishing trust across barriers of language, nationality and faith would mean life instead of death. So Joy asked Deutsch to create a symbol for the papers issued by the Service Committee, to make them look official, dignifying them while also symbolizing the spirit of the work.  Joy wrote, “When a document may keep a man out of jail, give him standing with governments and police, it is important that it look important.”

Thus, Hans Deutsch made his lasting contribution to the Unitarian Service Committee and, as it turned out, to Unitarian Universalism.  With pencil and ink, he drew a chalice with a flame rising from it.  The design was made into a seal for papers and a badge for agents moving refugees to freedom.  Unitarian Service Committee logoReporting to Boston, Charles Joy wrote:

“It represents, as you see, […] the kind of chalice which the Greeks and Romans put on their altars.  The holy oil burning in it is a symbol of helpfulness and sacrifice.  In ancient and medieval art this chalice is frequently found, and the design itself, modernized and stylized though it is, reminds one of the signs seen on the old monastic manuscripts.  This was in the mind of the artist.  The fact, however, that it remotely suggests a cross was not in his mind, but to me this also has its merit.  We do not limit our work to Christians.  Indeed, at the present moment, our work is nine-tenths for the Jews, yet we do stem from the Christian tradition, and the cross does symbolize Christianity and its central theme of sacrificial love.”

Let’s move from the Unitarian side of the story to the Universalist side.

Back in the United States in the 1940s, the Universalist Church of America was struggling with its religious identity.  At stake was whether Universalism was genuinely a Christian denomination or whether it was (or should be) something more, something larger, something truly universal.  In truth, the Universalist Church had struggled with its sense of identity for most of its existence, and had just been denied membership — twice — in the Federal Council of Churches: the council decided that the Universalists were, first, not sufficiently Christian and, second, too much like the Unitarians!

But into the mixture of voices calling, on the one hand, for a stronger Christian witness and, on the other, for a transformation of Universalism to a more truly universal religion, there came a new voice.  It came from a small group of recent graduates of the Crane Theological School at Tufts University, and it proved to be a major force pushing the Universalist Church beyond Christianity.

The graduates took their name from a medieval religious order, the Humiliati.  The name means “the humble ones”, though few people thought the members of this new order were particularly humble!  The group was originally formed so that its members could continue to enjoy the friendship, intellectual stimulation and spiritual growth they had enjoyed as seminarians; they held annual retreats during the 1940s and 50s at which they discussed theology, worship and liturgy.

Committing themselves to the renewal of their denomination as a universalized Universalism, the Humiliati adopted the symbol of a small, off-center cross enclosed by a larger circle.Humiliati symbol  The circle was intended to represent the all-embracing nature of Universalism; the off-center cross, of course, recognized Universalism’s Christian roots while at the same time implying that Christianity was no longer necessarily central to the faith.  When the symbol first appeared at the ordination of one of the Humiliati, it created something of a stir; then another member of the group caused a bigger dispute when he insisted on being ordained to the Universalist ministry rather than to the Christian ministry.  Although the Humiliati’s theological and liturgical innovations were by no means widely embraced, the idea of a universalized Universalism took hold and the symbol of the circle enclosing an off-center cross came to be widely used in Universalist churches.

It was at about the same time in the 1940s and 50s that the Universalist Church of America and the American Unitarian Association were once again talking about the possibility of combining their organizations and resources, a conversation that had been going, off and on, for almost a century.  The Unitarians had worked through the humanist–theist controversy of the 1920s and 30s and now, thanks in no small part to the Humiliati, the Universalists were moving beyond an exclusively Christian orientation.  The talks finally culminated, of course, in the legal consolidation that in 1961 formed the Unitarian Universalist Association.  And, a couple of years after that, the Unitarian Service Committee and the Universalist Service Committee merged to form the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee, which continued to use the flaming chalice in its documents.

Like our faith itself, the flaming chalice symbol has evolved over time.  Some years ago the UUA changed its logo to convey the idea of illumination emanating from the flame; more recently the UUSC changed its logo to hold the chalice in a pair of hands.Unitarian Universalist Service Committee logo  More often, the placing of the Unitarian chalice within the Universalist circle is a starting point for all sorts of  variations in design.  As Charles Joy noted almost seventy years ago, the shape of the chalice can be suggestive of a cross, but in some designs the cross is more explicit.  One painting, commissioned by First Unitarian in Albuquerque from New Mexico artist Robert P. Hooton, features a cross within a circle to the left and a chalice within a circle to the right.  Here together are the three symbols we’ve been considering: the chalice, the circle and the cross.

sketch for painting by Robert P. Hooton, featuring a cross within a circle to the left and a chalice within a circle to the right

sketch for painting by Robert P. Hooton

The flaming chalice combines two archetypes — a drinking cup and a flame — that have been used in religious symbolism for as long as there’s been such a thing as religion.  From the wine cup of the Passover seder to the Holy Grail of medieval legend, the chalice represents community, sustenance, fertility.  The flame is an even older symbol, of course, and soon we’ll be in that season featuring a number of holidays involving candles, in Advent wreaths, Hanukkah menorahs and Kwanzaa kinaras, where the flames represent hope, courage, witness.  With this wealth of meanings, it’s perhaps not surprising that the flaming chalice caught on within Unitarian Universalism and that it’s become so near and dear to our hearts.

Now there’s a joke that tells of a Catholic church, a Baptist church and a Unitarian Universalist church next to one another; one stormy night there’s a lightning strike and soon all three churches are on fire.  Some of the more dedicated church members risk their lives to save the church’s most prized possessions: the Catholics run in to save the communion host; the Baptists run in to save the Bible; and the UUs run in to save the coffee pot!  But the very next thing most UUs would try to save would be the chalice.

(Our own chalice has its own story, of course, which also involves a church fire, but that’s a story for another time.)

For me, the flaming chalice represents the relationship between the individual and the community.  The community holds the individual just as the chalice holds the flame, providing it with a home, a place to be, sheltering it from the winds that would extinguish it.  The individual, on the other hand, illuminates the community, just as the flame illuminates the chalice, shining its light, sharing its wisdom and warming with its love.  Last Sunday I introduced the word “autokoenony” from the Greek meaning “the self engaged in a group whose members have something in common”, and that describes what the flaming chalice represents to me.  In this interpretation, in fact, it teach us two simple lessons: without the community, there would be no place for the individual to stand; and without the individual, the community would go without illumination.

Another archetypal symbol is the circle.  With no beginning and no end, a circle goes on forever.  What most of us think of as the traditional wedding ceremony includes the custom of exchanging rings as a sign of our hope — even in this day and age — for everlasting love.  And yet a ring wouldn’t be a ring were it not for the empty space in the middle through which one’s finger passes, and a circle wouldn’t be a circle without the empty space in the center.  If the circle, in the symbology we inherit from the Universalists, represents the universe of existence, then perhaps the empty space in the center represents the mystery at the heart of existence.  We place our flaming chalice within the circle, but it doesn’t fill the circle: there’s still plenty of room for mystery.

symbols of the religions of the world design based on the Rehnberg Memorial Window at the UU Church of Rockford

design based on the Rehnberg Memorial Window at the UU Church of Rockford

And then we come to the cross.  Many Unitarian Universalists have some difficulty accepting the cross as one of our religious symbols, I’ve noticed.  Including it as just another symbol along with the Jewish Star of David, the Hindu Om, the Taoist Yin–Yang, and so on is okay, but most Unitarian Universalists would rather not focus on the cross, if we can help it.  We might object to it on the grounds that the cross was, after all, an instrument of torture and death used by the Roman Empire against those it particularly despised.  We might object to it on the grounds that the cross became a symbol justifying colonialism and oppression by Europeans against Africans and Native Americans.  We might object to it on the grounds that the whole emphasis on the crucifixion came, in any case, from the Apostle Paul and doesn’t really have anything to do with the ethical teachings of the human Jesus.

Well, those are valid objections.  However, there are two reasons why we ought to be okay with the cross as a symbol representing Christianity at its best.  First, both Unitarianism and Universalism evolved out of “traditional” Christianity.  As the Unitarian Universalist Association’s own Commission on Appraisal made clear:

“Unitarian Universalism is rooted in two religious heritages.  Both are grounded on thousands of years of Jewish and Christian teachings, traditions and experiences.  The Unitarian heritage has affirmed that we need not think alike to love alike and that God is one.  The Universalist heritage has preached not hell but hope and courage, and the kindness and love of God.  Contemporary Unitarian Universalists have reaped the benefits of a legacy of prophetic words and deeds.”

Second, given that heritage, we have a right to own the meanings of that heritage, to speak in favor of religion based on love rather than fear, to use the cross as a symbol for our purposes rather than let it be used against us.  We may not subscribe to the theology it is usually taken to represent and we may object to its history as a tool of conquest and subjugation, but strip away the distinctly un-Christian abuses of the cross and trim back the elaborate mystification surrounding it, and what we find is a simple call to love and to be loved.

The chalice, the circle and the cross, in fact, are reminders to us of those who went before us in our faith.  Let us remember those who were willing to risk everything, even their lives, to help others escape persecution.  Let us remember those who advocated for a larger faith, embracing freedom of belief and service to the whole.  And let us affirm our heritage in oneness and wholeness, carrying forward the symbols of our faith as we fill our lives with hope and courage, kindness and love.

So may it be.

Leave a Comment

Why?

Originally posted on UU Fellowship of the Peninsula:

For all that is our life! by Rev. Andrew Clive MillardRev. Andrew Clive Millard

Many parents dread that age when their child starts asking “Why?”  Not because they don’t want their child to be curious, but because whatever the answer, it usually leads to another “Why?” until the final answer, out of frustration, is something like “Because I said so!”  (The theological problem that answer represents is a topic for another time…)  Olivia hasn’t reached that phase yet, but she certainly asks plenty of other questions and I know it’s just a matter of time!

While it’s a phase that’s usually outgrown within a few years, the question still sticks with us throughout our lives.  And “why” is distinct from the other question words: “what”, “where”, “when” and “who” often have concrete answers, and in fact the rule of thumb for announcing an event is to include those answers as the most important details.  Even “how”, though more…

View original 570 more words

Leave a Comment

Doing What We Say We Are Here To Do

Originally posted on UU Fellowship of the Peninsula:

For all that is our life! by Rev. Andrew Clive Millard

I’m thrilled that after two months of wandering in the wilderness, so to speak, we’ll be back in our own Sanctuary this coming Sunday morning!  A huge amount of work has gone into repairing the building following February’s burst pipe, and with the new flooring and upgrades to the kitchen, it looks fantastic!  We owe great thanks to the Building Restoration Task Force for all of the time and effort they devoted to making this possible!

Of course, if we had to hold services somewhere other than in our own space, we couldn’t have asked for a place better than Sandy Bottom State Park.  It’s certainly been a beautiful setting for us to meet, with large windows looking out over the lake and through the trees, allowing us watch the Earth come to life as Winter gave way…

View original 514 more words

Leave a Comment

The Meaning of Membership

(I preached this sermon at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the Peninsula on September 7th 2014.)

For many congregations, today is known as “Ingathering Sunday” or “Back to Church Sunday”.  Well, this week has been “Back to School”, it’s true, with public schools at least here in Virginia and other places on the East Coast waiting to start until after Labor Day.  But I can’t say that we’re now “Back to Church” with any sincerity, given that we’ve been here all Summer, going strong with a full slate of worship services and religious exploration programs every Sunday throughout July and August.  After all, we can’t come back if we didn’t go away.

What’s more, we weren’t just here in August: we were busy in August.  We’ve had lots of newcomers, many of them families with children, doing their Summer “church shopping” before the busy-ness of the school year starts.  A good number of you who are here this morning, in fact, came to services for the first time one Sunday last month, and I’m so glad that you made the choice to keep coming back.  And naturally, many of you who are newcomers have had questions, about the congregation, about our programs, about becoming a member.

That, of course, is the natural progression.  A first-time visitor enjoys what they experienced or likes the people they met — hopefully both! — and plans to come again.  That makes them a newcomer, when they get to know the place a bit more and figure out if this is where they feel they can belong.  And, in time, they receive a letter from me, inviting them to a Membership Orientation, like the one we have planned for late October.  That’s where we talk about what it means to be a member, what’s involved in joining us in creating a dynamic community that celebrates life and searches for truths, and why that matters.  (For those who cannot attend an orientation given their schedules, there’s also the option of meeting with me.)  And then for those who choose to become members, who have made the decision to embrace the rights and responsibilities that come with that commitment, they demonstrate that by signing the membership book.

Now joining a congregation is rather different from joining almost anything else.  It’s not like being part of a book discussion group that meets at Barnes and Noble.  It’s not like being on a mailing list or Facebook.  It’s not like going to talks offered by the Sierra Club nor is it like sending a nominal contribution to the World Wildlife Fund and getting a newsletter.  It’s not like dropping children off at an after-school program at the Y nor is it like being part of a life-long learning course at CNU.  It’s not like having dinner or coffee with friends nor is it like getting together to watch a TV show and then talk about it.  It has aspects of all of those things, of course, but it’s rather different from all of them, and with more and more of the people who find themselves here never having had much prior church experience, we’ve found ourselves being very intentional, when it comes to membership orientations, to explain what it really means to be a member.

I want to give you a couple of perspectives on why this matters.  Here’s the first.

Back at the beginning of May, I began my sermon on the topic of understanding ourselves in relation to those around us by reflecting on how many non-members benefit from the presence, here on the Peninsula, of this congregation.  Between those who pledge their financial support as if they were members without actually being members, those who participate in programs and put money into the offering basket but have made no formal commitment otherwise, those who might only come to special services such as on Christmas Eve or to special events like the Luau, as well as those who might simply visit in the course of a year, there are, by one estimate, something like four hundred non-members as compared to some 160 members.

Beyond that, of course, if we guesstimate the number of people we serve at St. Paul’s or PORT, the number of people we impact through our Share-the-Basket partners like LINK, and the number of people we reach through other outreach efforts, we may well be talking about a few thousand people whose lives benefit from the presence of this Fellowship, from what this congregation is and from what it does.  That’s something in which we should all feel quite a bit of pride.

So here’s the obvious question:  If it’s possible to be almost as much a part of the life of the Fellowship as a member without actually being a member, if it’s possible to be connected to or supported by the congregation without even being here in person, then what does it mean to be a member?

Here’s another perspective on why this matters.  Whenever I’m at another Unitarian Universalist church, whether to preach or just to be part of their services, I like to check out the materials they give to visitors.  I know I’m not alone in this.  One such item I came across recently was this bookmark, produced by the Unitarian Universalist Association and sold to congregations in packs of twenty-five to hand out to newcomers.  It’s entitled “Ten Good Reasons for Joining a Unitarian Universalist Congregation”, and I was intrigued to see what those were.  Here are some of those reasons.

Because here we join with open hearts and minds to worship together, seeking what is sacred among us.

Because here we honor our Jewish and Christian roots, and also reach out to know the great truths found in other religious expressions.

Because here we nurture our children’s enthusiasms and encourage their questions.

Because here we join our strength with others to create a more just society.

Because here we encourage each other to be true to ourselves.

Now, without doubt, those are all good reasons to participate in the life of a Unitarian Universalist congregation.  They’re all great reasons, for that matter, why such things as UU churches should exist.  But reasons for joining a congregation as a member?  Compelling, necessary reasons?  I’m not so sure.  Again we come back to the obvious question:  If we welcome non-members to come to worship services, to learn about our tradition as well as other religions, to give our children a religious education, to work with others to make a better world, even to help one another become our best selves, if we welcome non-members to all of that, and we do, then what does it mean to be a member?

Now some might say that the reason to be a member is to pay for those services and benefits.  That’s a reasonable claim, particularly since that’s the way our culture works as a whole.  After all, in almost all other areas of modern life, it’s the case that you get what you pay for.  So let’s think about that for a moment.

In any other setting than a church, what would you pay, if you’re a parent, for someone to not only look after your child for an hour, but to teach them about what it means to have an open mind, a loving heart and a helping hand?  Even if it were just baby-sitting, it might be ten dollars for the hour, probably more for actual teaching, and more still for youth.  For Sunday school over the course of a year, then, and assuming all but one Sunday each month, that’s at least four-hundred dollars a year.  That’s probably a good ballpark figure for an hour or so a week of quality adult programming, too, such as the Sunday Morning Forum that takes place over in the Office Building.  For comparison, registration in the LifeLong Learning Society at Christopher Newport University is $235, and that’s with CNU’s own subsidies and the sponsorship of some local businesses.

Or what about coffee or tea plus assorted snacks, sandwiches, cakes, fruit and other food?  Well, those are unlimited here as part of hospitality, and though some places might offer free refills, go to Panera or Starbucks for coffee and a brownie and you’d pay $5 or more.  Again, consider being here more often than not each month and that adds up to a couple of hundred dollars each year.  And what about the price of Sunday service?  Well for the music alone, a professional musician could reasonably expect to be paid, so Robin has told me in the past, at least a hundred dollars per service.  And the going rate for a professional speaker, according to the Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association, is somewhat more than that, making it in all, again, a couple of hundred dollars per person each year.  Add it all up, for the average person, and we’re talking about something like a thousand dollars each year if you went somewhere else and paid for what we offer here, freely to everyone and gladly to everyone, every single Sunday morning.

Now for those of you checking your calendars, no, it’s not pledge drive time, and no, this is not the Sermon on the Amount.  I’m simply offering you these back-of-the-envelope numbers to show you that the idea that someone become a member in order to pay for the services and benefits they receive, well that idea is hogwash.  We’re not here as consumers, and in most cases we’re not getting what we pay for: we’re actually getting much more than we pay for.

So if someone isn’t a member because they must be a member in order to participate in our services and programs, and if they’re not a member in order to simply pay for those services and programs, then what does it mean to be a member?

Well I put it to you that being a member means wanting this to be a place where those services and programs are and will always be available, not only to members but to everyone.  It means a commitment to this congregation so that it can be a place where, member or not, anyone can join in seeking the sacred, in learning about religion, in nurturing our children’s souls, in striving to make the world a better place, and in encouraging one another’s authenticity.  It means promising to make that possible through the direct contribution of volunteer hours and, yes, volunteer dollars.  It means investing one’s mind, one’s body and one’s spirit in the vision of this congregation as a safe place for spiritual diversity and individual growth through lifelong religious education and service to the wider community.

That’s no small order, of course.  As I say on those occasions when we welcome our newest members of this Fellowship, “joining is easy, but membership is not”.  Joining is, after all, a matter of attending an orientation, or otherwise meeting with me in person, and then signing the membership book.  Sure, the orientation is three hours long and takes up a whole Saturday morning, but we feed you a great breakfast!  And there are plenty of congregations out there that have a much more involved process of joining, in one case that I know taking one whole year to be accepted as a new member.  But if joining only takes a Saturday morning, membership takes a lifetime.  We do expect our members to actively participate in the life of the Fellowship, in whatever ways are appropriate, and to contribute financially, to whatever extent is reasonable.  That’s the easy part, though: something else that I say when we recognize new members is that “a member accepts responsibility for continuing and sharing the faith journey that brought them to this place, and also covenants to live in community with others whose journeys may be different.”  And that is the work of a lifetime, because it’s what life is actually about.

Now from time to time, you’ll hear on a Sunday morning a member testimonial.  Though they tend to be associated with the aforementioned pledge drive, for obvious reasons, we ask those members who give testimonials to speak to the same matters regardless of whether they’re doing so at pledge time or not.  We ask them to speak about why this congregation is a special place.  We ask them to speak about what it means to them to be a member.  We ask them to speak about why it’s important for them to be here.  We ask them to speak about how they have been transformed by being part of this Fellowship.  What I’ve noticed is that rarely do any of these members describe membership as a static state, where they joined, met some nice people, liked the music, and they’re done.  Rather — and of course this is particularly noticeable when, over the course of a few years, a member gives more than one testimonial — being a member is a dynamic reality, where there are always opportunities to grow our own souls while also growing the soul of the congregation so that together we may grow the soul of the world.

So if you are one of our many newcomers who first visited over the Summer, or perhaps even before that, and you’re interested in becoming a member here because you’ve found that this is a place where you feel you can belong, then I encourage you to continue asking questions about what it really means to be a member.  Or if you’re one of our newer members, who, within the last few years, attended an orientation and signed the membership book and was welcomed by the congregation one following Sunday morning, then I encourage you to think beyond your current participation in congregation life to consider some of the many ways in which you can get the most out of becoming a member.  And if you’re one of our members who’s been here for some larger span of years, who has served on some committees and taught some classes and led worship from time to time and taken on any of a thousand responsibilities large and small, I thank you for being one of our “long haul people” but I also encourage you to reach out to our new members and to our newcomers, to bring them into the work of making this congregation a spiritual home for our common endeavor.

I’m going to close with a reading I happened to rediscover this week.  Talk about good timing!  It was written by Unitarian Universalist minister Clarke Dewey Wells, and was read right here thirty-four years ago, as part of the service dedicating this very Sanctuary building in 1980.

This is the liberal church:

a place to go where you know you belong;

where the mind is free to soar beyond the coercions and crudities that inevitably beset all orthodoxies;

where the heart is free to extend that larger love to all, unencumbered by notions of dogma, tradition, race, religion, country or class,

where the rights of individual conscience and action are guarded with vigilance, out of belief in the fitness of diversity, the liberty to be different, out of eternal hostility to every form of tyranny;

where the hands are free to work and create for the cause of community and the hope of peace;

where the soul is free to open, stretch, discover, develop, change and grow, always, continuously and progressively;

where human promise is nurtured, supported and blessed, and never cursed, degraded or despaired of;

where people are invited to be themselves in joy, in sorrow, in the struggle of the deeper self to be born, in the resolution of some great issue, in the witnessing to high ideals, in living and dying, seeking, finding and serving.

A place to learn, to grow, to sing, to stand.

A place to encounter, reckon, judge, accept, and be accepted.

A place to be challenged by new insight, and be reminded of what one already knows.

A place to go where you know you belong.

This is the liberal church.

To these words I would add the following:  This is the liberal church that was built by those members who were part of that building dedication service thirty-four years ago.  This is the liberal church that those members here today are building through the dedication of their minds, their bodies and their spirits.  And this is the liberal church that will continue to be built in the years and decades to come, in ways that we expect, in other ways that we may only dimly see, and in some ways that will surprise and delight the world.  This is the meaning of membership: to be the past, the present and the future of the liberal church, a place to go where you know you belong.

So may it be.

Leave a Comment

Embracing Our Identities

Originally posted on UU Fellowship of the Peninsula:

For all that is our life! by Rev. Andrew Clive Millard

This time last year there were a couple of a widely shared articles criticizing Christianized versions of the Passover seder.  In “Why Christians Should Not Host Their Own Passover Seders”, for example, Rebecca Cynamon-Murphy describes how, as a Christian woman married to a Jewish man, she has become a “safe person” for her fellow Christians to ask about Judaism.  As such, she has been approached by Christians who want to hold Passover seders.  “Their logic,” she notes, “is that since Jesus was celebrating Passover during the week when he was arrested, tried, executed and resurrected, in a desire to be more Christ-like, they too should celebrate the holiday.”

While understanding that desire, Cynamon-Murphy goes on to make the case that Christians hosting their own seders do more harm than good, from ignoring thousands of years of persecution of…

View original 736 more words

Leave a Comment

Thank you, Michael Piazza, for restoring my faith in church.

Dear Michael Piazza,*

Thank you for restoring my faith in church.

Oh, I don’t mean “a church”.  I have great confidence in the congregation I serve, after all, and I know there are other good faith communities out there, too.  And I don’t mean “the church”, in the larger sense of organized religion.  Rather, I mean “church”, as short-hand for “the institution of congregational life”.

You restored my faith in the institution of congregational life when I attended your workshop at the Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association’s “Institute” at the beginning of February.  Your title was “Preaching and Worship for the Future Church and the Future of the Church”, and though in the course of our three days together you certainly talked about good preaching and good worship, what came through most clearly was your passion for doing church well.  It was clear that you so dearly want to do congregational life well — and that you sincerely wanted every UU minister in that lecture hall to do like-wise, too — because you believe that congregational life really, really matters.  It was your passion and your heartfelt belief that restored my faith in church.

For anyone following religion news these days, it’s not hard to see and hear a lot of doom and gloom about “the future church and the future of the church”.  Oh, the demographic shifts are real enough, combining the generation-spanning decline in trust of institutions generally with younger generations’ rejection of religion that is judgmental, exclusionary and irrelevant.  And it would certainly be foolish to do church as if credit cards and social media didn’t exist, or with notions of “sacred music” limited to what was written by a few long-dead white men.  But the doom and gloom seem to go beyond noticing that congregations can’t keep pretending it’s the 1950s, to declaring that the congregation as an institution not only has no future but is already on its death-bed.

I can handle the seemingly endless stream of articles with titles such as “Nine Reasons Why People Aren’t Coming To Your Church” or “Seven Ways You’re Repelling Newcomers”; for all that their titles are sensationalistic, the articles themselves do make some valid points.  But I have been disheartened by the apparently exclusive emphasis on other forms of religious group-making, including the earnest promotion of ministry as a vocation that in the future will require either independent wealth or a submission to poverty.  The cynic in me says that we’ve given up trying to find the formula that will magically make congregations perfect, only we did so not by accepting that there are no such things as “magic” or “perfection”, but instead by abandoning the congregation as a viable way of doing religion.

The fact is that it takes hard work for people to actually be in community, particularly religious community.  And when a congregation is doing well, by which I mean when it’s doing community well, then more people will want to be a part of it, which means it will grow, which means it will change, and then it will take more hard work to respond to that change in healthy ways so that the congregation continues to do well as it grows.

Now I’ve spent fifteen years figuring out that simple fact, thanks to my experiences first as a lay church member, then as a seminarian, and now as a minister serving a congregation that really values community and hospitality.  But in the last couple of years, following in particular the publicity around “the rise of the nones”, it increasingly felt like I was being told that I was on a fool’s errand.  I so want to see the congregation I serve thrive and grow and fulfill its considerable potential, but again and again I’ve seen the consultants and the experts gleefully preparing a casket for the idea of church.  (Last year, you may remember, the Alban Institute even shut its doors!)

That’s why I’m thanking you, Michael.  You made it clear to me that what I and my colleagues in parish ministry are doing really does matter.  You made it clear that church really does matter, not because any of us might think we have the right theology or the right music or the right programs, but because congregational life matters.  Church is where we listen to one another and support one another and help one another, where we can respond to the deepest of human needs to know each other and to be known.  The forms and trappings of church may change with the times — and, indeed, they must change — but the core reason for being of the institution of congregational life continues, because our human need for comforting, encouraging, transforming community continues.  Thank you for showing me that I’m not the only one who still believes that.  Thank you for restoring my faith in church.

Yours, in faith and service,

Andrew.

~)<

* Piazza started as a Methodist preacher and then moved to the Metropolitan Community Church when he came out.  In the 1980s, he began serving an MCC congregation in Dallas that was dying.  Literally dying.  It was the height of the AIDS crisis, there was little understanding of what AIDS was or how to treat it, and while gay men were dying across the country, the White House press corps was laughing about it.  Piazza turned that church around, and, as the Cathedral of Hope, it’s now the largest LGBTQ-friendly congregation in the world.  And it’s in Dallas, Texas.

Four years ago, Piazza began serving a United Church of Christ congregation in Atlanta.  It was dying, too, given the age of its members. But in those four years, that congregation has quadrupled in size, and it’s now racially diverse, too.

Comments (2)

What We Bring to It

(I preached this sermon at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the Peninsula on February 23rd 2014.)

I first stood here a little less than four years ago.  It was Candidating Week, the final stage in a months-long process where your Search Committee and I figured out together if you and I were a good match.  It was a process a lot like on-line dating, starting off with sharing profiles through a web site, then moving on to e-mail exchanges, then telephone conversations, then that first “date” known as pre-candidating weekend, and then, when the courtship, as it were, had reached that critical point, I was introduced to the congregation as a whole, to this Fellowship, during Candidating Week.

I remember many positive impressions from that time back in 2010, but this morning I’m going to focus on just one of them.

A Candidating Week typically begins and ends on a Sunday, giving the prospective minister two sets of Sunday services, one at the start and one at the finish.  Preparing for the week, then, I needed to know how services were conducted here.  After all, each Unitarian Universalist congregation has its own way of doing worship, even if just about every place uses the grey hymnal and includes many of the same service elements, from the lighting of a chalice to the preaching of a sermon.  But each congregation does them in its own way, with different words used in different places to introduce, say, the offering.

In some congregations, the offering may be introduced pretty literally:  “In support of the work of this church, we shall now receive the offering.”  Here, by contrast, the introduction to the offering begins with the words you heard just a little while ago:  “All that this Fellowship is and all that this congregation has are what we bring to it: our time, our talents, our capabilities and concerns, and our money.”  Amongst many positive impressions from Candidating Week, those words impressed me very much, because those words, my friends, present a simple yet incredibly profound theology.

Let me explain why that matters.

Cynthia Grant Tucker is a Professor of English at the University of Memphis, but in Unitarian Universalist circles she’s better known for her studies of our history.  One of the books all would-be UU ministers are required to read, for example, is Tucker’s book about the Unitarian women ministers who served on the Iowa frontier during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, about how those women brought the inspiration of Ralph Waldo Emerson and other “Boston Brahmins” to life in mid-Western fire-side parlors.  Indeed, some have said that Iowa becoming the first state outside of New England to recognize marriage equality is part of the legacy of Mary Safford, Eleanor Gordon and the other Unitarian women who formed that Iowa Sisterhood.

And yet Tucker does not passively relate such history in order that we may know our own past, as important as that is.  She also engages with it actively, that we may know our own future.  Writing of “the hunger for greater spirituality and community in the church”, for example, Tucker advises that “preachers [must seek] their texts in the life of the parish, past and present, and build on the theology that they discover among the people.”  Most seminaries, after all, teach would-be ministers how to analyze and interpret and explain texts found in the Bible, and yet they also stress the importance of meeting people where they already are.  What scripture long since frozen to paper could be more relevant, then, than the living text found in the life of the congregation?

The words we use to introduce the offering every Sunday morning are such a living text.  Now many of you have heard them so many times you probably don’t really listen to them anymore, particularly when you’re looking for a suitable bill in your pocket or trying to find your checkbook.  So listen to them again now, when you don’t have anything to distract you:  “All that this Fellowship is and all that this congregation has are what we bring to it”.  What simple yet profound theology.  So, following Tucker’s advice to preachers, let me build on that theology.

Unitarian Universalist congregations are part of a tradition that is more than three-and-a-half centuries old, in which individual congregations enter into cooperative association with one another for mutual support and encouragement but are otherwise governed independently.  This Fellowship, for instance, elects its own Board, calls its own ministers, hires its own staff, runs its own programs, maintains its own facilities and funds its own budget.  There is no regional bishop nor outside council of elders that does those things for us.

We are associated, for instance, with other congregations in Southeast Virginia, and, in fact, we’re hosting this year’s meeting of the Tidewater Cluster at the end of March; the Unitarian Universalist Association’s new Moderator, Jim Key, is our featured speaker, so you don’t want to miss it.  But while being associated with other UU congregations allows us to do some things together that we wouldn’t be able to do by ourselves, such as the Hampton Roads UU Revival that took place this time last year, it is ultimately the case that this particular congregation, this UU Fellowship of the Peninsula, is precisely what we bring to it, no more and no less.

Before I get to the practical consequences of this, though, let’s consider it from another perspective…

There was once a village that was much the same as villages everywhere.  It had grown up by a ford where the road between distant cities crossed a river.  First there was an inn, since travelers on the road might find that the river could not be safely forded, and an enterprising innkeeper gave them food and a place to stay while they waited.  With a regular clientele, a farrier and a cartwright and a brewer soon set up shop, followed by a blacksmith and a carpenter and a baker.  A mill was built upriver, and a tannery downstream, and soon enough there was a tidy collection of houses within the village, and farms scattered around it.

One afternoon, the owner of one such farm was leaning against a fence where it ran alongside the road into the village.  When she had a quiet moment, the farmer liked to rest here, for there was a good view of the land with the road cresting a gentle hill before heading toward the river.  Sometimes there would be travelers, and she enjoyed exchanging greetings with them as they passed.

And on this particular afternoon, there was a traveler.  He came over to the farmer and, after the usual pleasantries about the weather, asked what the village was like.

“I’m thinking this might be a place I’d like to live,” the traveler said.

“Really?” said the farmer.  “And what was it like where you lived before?” she asked.

“Well,” answered the traveler, “everyone was really friendly and they treated one another well.  I do miss them.”

And the farmer smiled and said, “You’ll enjoy living here, then.  You’ll find that people here are like that, too.”

And the traveler thanked her and continued on into the village.

Only a little while later, another traveler came along the road.  He went over to the farmer and, after further pleasantries about the weather, asked what the village was like.

“I’m thinking this might be a place I’d like to live,” the traveler said.

“Really?” said the farmer.  “And what was it like where you lived before?” she asked.

“Well,” answered the traveler, “everyone was rather unfriendly and they treated one another badly.  I don’t miss them.”

And the farmer frowned and said, “You won’t enjoy living here, then.  You’ll find that people here are like that, too.”

And the traveler thanked her and turned around to go back the way he’d come.

The farmer, of course, knew that the village was much the same as villages everywhere, in that it was simply made up of the people in it.  So she also knew that if those people could see all the good in their lives together, then their lives would be better, whereas if they only saw the bad in their lives together, then their lives would be worse.

Now, if such a bucolic parable isn’t to your taste, how about this modern tale?

In 1979, Pauline Phillips received a letter.  That name might not ring a bell, and that’s because Phillips used the pen name “Abigail van Buren” when she answered such letters in her advice column, “Dear Abby”.  This particular letter, and Phillips’ response back in 1979, were as follows:

“Dear Abby,
Two men who claim to be father and adopted son just bought an old mansion across the street and fixed it up.  We notice a very suspicious mixture of company coming and going at all hours — blacks, whites, Orientals, women who look like men and men who look like women.  This has always been considered one of the finest sections of San Francisco, and these weirdos are giving it a bad name.  How can we improve the neighborhood?
[From,] Nob Hill Residents.”

“Dear Residents,
You could move.”

So what are the practical consequences of this simple yet profound theology, as presented by the words that are part of every Sunday service?  “All that this Fellowship is and all that this congregation has are what we bring to it: our time, our talents, our capabilities and concerns, and our money.”

In this Sanctuary alone, what we experience as a Sunday service is the result of many people’s dedication.  About half of my work week is spent preparing for services, but of course this is hardly a one-man show.  Ahead of each Sunday, your Fellowship Administrator Mary-Elizabeth Cotton compiles and produces the printed Order of Service, for example, while a local janitorial company comes in to clean the building and make sure it’s ready to be used.  The service musicians, whether Nickie or Robin or Cheré or Jeffrey or the UUFP Winds, need to practice ahead of time, and the ChorUUs practices every Thursday evening for those Sundays when they’re singing, too.  The services themselves rely upon lay leaders and ushers to go smoothly, but perhaps even more they rely on all of you to be here and to bring your minds and your hearts and your voices and your hands into this place of worship, too.  So between what you pay staff, and what our member volunteers give of their time and talents, and what all of you give of your whole selves, each of our Sunday services is what we bring to it.

Part of each service, of course, is the Children’s Focus that your Director of Religious Education Joanne Dingus provides, and I know for a fact that the adults here get as much out of what Joanne says to our children as they do, maybe more.  But the rest of the time on Sunday morning, Joanne is to be found either teaching a religious education class herself or moving about our campus assisting and supporting those she and the RE Committee have recruited to teach our children and youth.  There is also our nursery, where Mary-Elizabeth Cotton and Mary Robertson look after our very youngest members, while for our grown-ups — who are still, I hasten to mention, young-at-heart — there are Sunday morning Adult RE programs over in the office building, too.  So, again: between what you pay staff, and what our member volunteers give of their time and talents, and what all of you give when you participate, each of our programs of religious education is what we bring to it.

Then there’s what happens before and between and after services and RE classes.  Since the Summer, we’ve been implementing a model of Sunday morning hospitality that is based on teams, working together to cover all the necessary tasks from getting the coffee going to setting up food, from greeting newcomers to ushering people into services, from helping with coffee and food to cleaning everything up afterwards.  It’s also a great way to get to know more people here at the Fellowship and make new friends.  There are plenty of volunteer slots still available — you don’t have to be a member to be on a hospitality team, you don’t even have to be here on a Sunday morning for some of the tasks — so if you’re not yet on a team, please see one of the team leaders — Rosalee, Bobbie and [Sarah] — to join one today.  In short, Sunday morning hospitality is definitely what we bring to it.

Then there are a number of programs that take place after services on Sundays, such as Goddess Circle and Second Sunday Lunch and Got Kids? and Fourth Sunday Soup Social as well as presentations and movies here in the Sanctuary.  Between the efforts of our member volunteers to plan and run these programs and your participation in them, each of these is what we bring to it.

There are similarly programs at other times and on other days of the week, such as the Book Club and Fifty and Better and Resist Apathy! and Saturday Game Night and Women’s Drumming.  And there are our outreach programs, such as the third Friday dinner at St. Paul’s and the PORT Winter Shelter.  There are other programs for spiritual development, such as Fellowship Circles and the meditation groups and EarthRising and softball.  (I’m sure Mason would agree with me that softball offers plenty of spiritual development.)

There are all the ways we care for one another, from hospital visits to telephone calls, from going with someone to their court appointment to bringing one another meals following sickness or childbirth.  There are special annual events, such as the auction and the casbah and the yard sale, all of which need lots of volunteers.  There are the buildings and grounds clean-up days.  There are the staff and the volunteers who help to publicize all these ways to be involved.  There are the dedicated committees that plan and run all of these efforts, and maintain our facilities so that we can do them, and raise the money we need for programs and outreach and utilities and maintenance and staffing.  There are the committee chairs and Policy Board members who work with staff to find all of these ways to fulfill our mission.  And, perhaps most importantly, there is each and every one of you, contributing your time, your talents, your capabilities and concerns, and your money.  For every single thing that we do here, every single thing that we can do here, is what we bring to it.

Now I’ve just given you an awfully long list of what it takes to run a thriving, growing congregation like this Fellowship.  I’m sure I didn’t mention a few things that ought to be on that list, too, so if you didn’t hear a program you run or love, I apologize, but please do tell me or e-mail me to let me know that I didn’t mention it.  And it’s easy to see that just about everything on that long list needs volunteers to make it happen.  But it also takes money.

This is a growing congregation that is asking our staff to do more in response to and in support of that growth.  And with a growing number of programs, we’re using our buildings more and using more heat and light and water, too.  The state may not require us to pay taxes, but Dominion certainly expects churches to pay for electricity.  And to run those programs, from bringing in quality preachers for those Sundays when I’m not in the pulpit to obtaining the resources and supplies needed for Religious Education, from completing certain projects in order to become a Green Sanctuary to assisting with some of the costs that our members bear in order to represent us as congregation delegates at General Assembly, well, that takes money, too.

As it says in the brochure in your Order of Service this morning, “All members volunteer in various ways, and that’s crucial in sustaining the Fellowship’s mission and ministry.  However, we cannot function (much less grow) as a congregation without funding for our programs, our staff and our facilities.  There are many congregational functions which require more than volunteerism can provide.”

So this service is officially the start of this year’s Canvass, our pledge drive.  We ask all of our members, as well as those non-members known as “friends”, to pledge financial support to the Fellowship for the coming church year, which starts in July.  We ask members and friends to pledge so that, quite simply, we can create a budget, and we need a budget so that we can plan for programs and outreach and utilities and maintenance and staffing.  Some of what we spend our money on is more fun, or at least more interesting, than some of the other things we spend our money on, of course.  I don’t know of many people outside the Green Sanctuary Committee who get excited about utility bills.  And of course those whom you elect each May to lead the congregation and run these programs in turn pledge to be as wise and conscientious stewards of our collective time, talents and treasure as possible.

But to many ears these are just words.  And spoken words at that.  And there’s really just one word that matters right now.  And perhaps you’re like me and sometimes wish that life came with a great soundtrack, so maybe what we need to do with that one word… is set it… to music!

[“The Pledging Song”, words by Alan Sheeler, set to “The Drinking Song” from The Student Prince by Sigmund Romberg]

Pledge!  Pledge!  Pledge!
Pledge to a cause that is just, we call it the UUFP!
Pledge!  Pledge!  Pledge!
You’ll be helping to fund those wonderful kids in RE!
Here’s to hoping our UUs will shine,
lovingly giving both money and time!

I can foresee a time in May,
the budget made, the FiComm* at play!
Pledge!  Pledge!  Let the bucks start!
May all UUs show heart.
Pledge!  Pledge!  Pledge!
Your Fellowship needs you, so UUs don’t wait!
Let’s pledge!

[* Finance Committee]

So when, in the next few weeks, the time comes for you to pledge, whether that’s at one of the dinners to which everyone is invited, such as the Big Canvass Event on Saturday March 8th, or whether it’s in person with one of our UUFP canvassers, I would ask you to remember that everything we do — from worship services to religious exploration, from community building to public advocacy — is possible only because people like you contribute their time, their skills and their money.  All that this Fellowship is and all that this congregation has are precisely what we bring to it.

May it be so.

Comments (1)

Older Posts »
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 71 other followers

%d bloggers like this: