Sermon by Rev. Alan Taylor
Preached at Unity Temple Unitarian Universalist Congregation
November 7, 2004
There is nowhere else I would like to be at this
time than here with you. It is good to come together on this glorious day even
though the winds of politics take many of us into uncharted waters. These are
uncertain times. We are among a nation divided. Every four years, roughly half
the nation is jubilant with success and half is disappointed and dismayed about
the future. But this time around, the disappointment and dismay are so profound
among many, that despair threatens to descend. During the past few days, so many
of you asked me to address the election this morning. How can I not? The theme
for today’s service, “Bridging the Divide,” refers to what I naively thought I
could set out to do with this sermon.
This past July, The Christian Science Monitor ran a
series of articles about the political divide in America, exploring the changing
trends of Republican and Democrat strongholds. One article focused on Oak Park.
It was about people who choose to live where others have similar viewpoints and
worldviews. Oak Park is a good example of an inner-ring suburb where people with
liberal politics converge. The article says Chicagoans think of this village as
“The People’s Republic of Oak Park.” Here at Unity Temple, we are a liberal
religious congregation in a liberal-leaning village. I trust that I will not
offend many people if I assume the vast majority here today are upset, if not
profoundly disturbed, about the presidential election. By no means is Oak Park,
or even this congregation, all Democrats, but I believe we have an especially
high proportion of largely left-leaning liberals. And so today, I want to
address those among us who are blue.
This past Tuesday, I was, like many of you, filled with
hope and anticipation. And, on Wednesday, I felt powerless and demoralized.
Since then I have been passing through the stages of grief. The enormous
outpouring of time, energy, and money by so many people to get out the vote
fueled my faith about this election unlike any other. And then, as the results
came in, I empathized with so many of you who feel like the world we live in is
totally alien from the one in which half of the voting public lives. After it
was all over, Thomas Friedman opened his New York Times editorial, “As
Grandma used to say, at least I have my health.” Then he said what many of us
feel and fear: that Bush voters don’t just disagree with us about America’s
policies, domestic and foreign, but they disagree about what America is.
Morris Fiorina, a political scientist from Stanford, takes
issue with this view. In his new book, Culture Wars? The Myth of a Polarized
America, he argues there is a strong and vital center that gets overshadowed
in the ideological positioning of the two parties. He urges us to remember that
at times of national election, the nation is supposed to appear polarized when
two distinct ideological positions square off.
I agree with him up to a point. My greatest concern is how
this country is becoming ever more divided between those who view the world
through religious lenses and those who view it through secular lenses. This
country was founded on enlightenment ideals. Gary Wills in another recent New
York Times editorial asks, “Can a people that believes more fervently in the
Virgin Birth than in evolution still be called an Enlightened nation?” This
depends on how the government governs.
Democracy is messy and yet it is an especially good
political system to deal with a nation divided. In times like these, I find it
helpful to re-acquaint myself with history. In 1796, John Adams and Thomas
Jefferson vied for the presidency. It was a vicious election with the
Federalists claiming that a Jefferson presidency would incite murder, rape, and
incest. Although the two candidates didn’t get into the fray, the two sides
heaped insults on the other that make current advertisements sound like
lullabies. In that vitriolic election, the runner-up, Jefferson, was made vice
president! The following election, in 1800, Adams and Jefferson again ran
against each other, this time with their own vice-president running mates—and
with even more vicious attacks. It was clear Adams lost, but a glitch in the
electoral system gave both Thomas Jefferson and his running mate, Aaron Burr,
the same number of electoral votes. The Federalist supporters of Adams sought to
elect Burr as the lesser of two evils. And Burr, the self-opportunist he was,
went with the scheme. The House of Representatives voted 35 times over three
weeks without either Burr or Jefferson getting the necessary majority. Finally
Jefferson was selected following the most acrimonious and uncertain election in
our nation’s history.
Never was our nation more divided than in 1860 at the
outset of the Civil War. The issue of slavery tore the nation apart. Brothers
and friends took up arms against each other. Many believed it impossible to
transcend a division so ferocious that it claimed the lives of well over a
half-million lives. Yet this nation endured. It bridged its differences, albeit
imperfectly, in the direction of justice.
The nation was divided time and again. In 1964, the divide
was about civil rights to all people regardless of race. When Lyndon Johnson
signed his controversial legislation into law, he knew the country would
polarize in new ways. Until then, the south was a stronghold of the Democratic
Party. Johnson correctly predicted that the civil rights platform would push the
south into the Republican Party.
Now here we are in 2004, with nearly half of the nation
shocked and the other half affirmed that more voters prefer what could be called
the religiously-based leadership of George Bush to the reason-based approach of
John Kerry. It apparently came down to fear of terrorism and “traditional moral
values.”
On three separate occasions this past week, gay or lesbian
members of our congregation shared with me how awful it is to hear that gay
marriage played a determining role in the election’s outcome. To make matters
worse, nine states voted to ban same-sex marriage, and the bans passed, in many
cases by huge margins. Many voters in swing states cited “traditional moral
values” as their reason for voting for the incumbent. A Senator from a state
that has sanctioned civil unions was too much for middle America. Gay people are
being made to feel either blamed or at the least their humanity sidestepped by
folks who are grieving Kerry’s loss and wishing there was a way that could have
prevented it. And so we hear from many different sources that liberals rushed
too quickly on legalizing same-sex marriages.
I beg to differ. There is never a politically opportune
time to move toward justice but when the opportunity presents itself. In 1964,
when this country was divided, President Johnson acted from conscience, just as
the Massachusetts Supreme Court did this past year legalizing civil unions.
There was plenty of backlash and polarization then, just as there is now.
Clearly, we religious liberals have work to do. There are
three ways I urge you to be faithful to the values that we hold dear (borrowed
from Rev. James Kubal-Komoto). First, have faith in yourselves and your ability
to make a difference in the world, and acknowledge the necessity for all of us
to do so. Some religious traditions teach that only God can save the world. Our
tradition teaches that God saves the world through human beings. It is through
our hearts and minds and hands that God makes a difference in the world.
So, as Miguel de Unamuno
in today’s reading states, [condensed from “Throw Yourself Like Seed”]:
Shake off this sadness, and recover your spirit;
sluggish you will never see the wheel of fate
that brushes your heel as it turns going by,
the one who wants to live is the one in whom life is abundant
the only thing which lasts is the work; start then, turn to the work.
Throw yourself like seed as you walk,
and do not let the past weigh down your motion
from your work you will be able one day to gather yourself.
Second, remember where we have influence. Presidential
elections distort the perception of our own power by focusing our attention
where we have the least control—on the national level. On the local level, most
people grossly underestimate their influence. Writing letters to politicians and
newspapers does make a difference. Even dialoging with people in your own
community makes a difference. John Passacantando, Executive Director of
Greenpeace, wrote his supporters this week, “When you feel like your government
doesn’t represent you, savor that feeling. Before Gandhi, King, Lewis, Parks,
Muir and Thoreau went on to do great things, they all felt that way. … Now it’s
our turn.”
Third, hold faith in democracy and in the American people.
This isn’t easy, especially when the majority of the voting public appears to us
as either ignorant or unwilling to think critically. Our Unitarian Universalist
tradition challenges us to have faith in people and our ability to choose our
own leaders. Unitarian minister Theodore Parker coined the phrase, later
borrowed by Lincoln, “A government of the people, by the people, and for the
people.”
Vaclav Havel, the Czech dissident, speaks of the importance
of hope. “The kind of hope I often think about,” he says, “(especially in
situations that are particularly hopeless, such as prison) I understand above
all as a state of mind, not a state of the world. Either we have hope within us
or we don't; it is a dimension of the soul; it's not essentially dependent of
some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation. Hope is
not prognostication. It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the
heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored
somewhere beyond its horizons.
“Hope,” he says, “in this deep and powerful sense, is not
the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in
enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but, rather, an ability
to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to
succeed.”
Havel suggests that even in countries where people are
imprisoned for their political views and where human rights are trampled on left
and right, there is still room for hope. Although a lot of people feel
disenfranchised by the result of this election, there is plenty of reason to
hold on to hope. There are individuals here among us who can remember when there
were separate water fountains for blacks and whites in this country. There are
people here in this room who remember when women had far fewer opportunities
than they have today. Most of us in can remember when we didn't even talk about
gays and lesbians, let alone gay marriage. When we look to the wider world, most
of us can remember when there was still apartheid in South Africa and when there
was no democracy in Eastern Europe.
A colleague helpfully reminded me this week of the history
of social change in this country and around the world—the labor movement, the
Civil Right's movement, the women's movement, the anti-Vietnam War movement, the
disabled person's movement, the gay and lesbian movement. The history of social
change teaches us that we can change the world. We just can't change it
overnight. We may not even be able to change it within our lifetimes. We should
remember that Moses wasn't allowed to enter the promise land; Susan B. Anthony
didn't live long enough to see women vote; and Martin Luther King Jr.'s life was
cut tragically short so he did not live to see the fruits of his efforts.
If enough of us work together, we can eventually change the
world. As the historian Howard Zinn says, "History…shows that even seemingly
miraculous advances are in fact the result of many people taking small steps
together over a long period of time." When those miraculous advances occur, any
one presidential election will become a mere footnote in history.
I conclude this morning with a personal story. The theme of
today’s sermon was meant to be bridging the divide. It may be more than we can
do presently on a national level, but what about on the local level?
Last spring, Angie and I were invited to a St Patrick’s Day
party. It was just days before the primary, and the house was covered with
political signs, for Jack Ryan. As Angie and I had already met and contributed
generously to Barack Obama and his primary bid, I turned to Angie and said,
“This could be interesting.” She made me agree to refrain from initiating any
political conversation.
We were among the early arrivers to what turned out to be a
large family gathering. Angie and I were the honored guests, invited by the
matriarch of the family. Every time someone came in, I was always introduced as
Alan, the minister of Unity Temple. When asked by the host’s youngest daughter
about my denomination, I told her Unitarian Universalism. She smiled really big,
and made sure her parents heard her say, “Your church affirms gay marriage!” All
eyes were suddenly on me. I stated as matter-of-factly as I could, “Not only do
we believe gay people should be able to marry, we know gay people make good
clergy—in fact, my predecessor is openly gay.”
I thought that would be the beginning of the end. I
misjudged my hosts. It turned out this extended family is split between avid
liberals and avid conservatives—who talk to one another and can’t resist an
opportunity to rib other in good humor. They also engage in heated debate, as I
witnessed that evening. And I left with an appreciation that they love and
respect one another as they oblige each other to consider ideas from many
different angles. The corned beef hash was excellent, and I must confess, I was
never bored and felt warmly embraced. Over the last couple months, their house
is one of those that displays an obnoxiously gigantic Bush-Cheney sign. Whenever
I passed it, I would shake my head in wonder and then I would smile and say to
myself, “I may disagree, even passionately, with their opinion, but I know they
are thoughtful human beings who offer genuine hospitality and a willingness to
dialog.” What more can we ask of ourselves and those who disagree with us than
to be genuine and to throw ourselves like seed as our conscience dictates. As
Thomas Jefferson said, “It is in our lives and not in our words that our
religion must be read.”
May it be so. Blessed be. Amen.
Benediction:
Where do we go from here? This is a great
question to ask. In his speech entitled, “Where Do We Go from Here?” Martin
Luther King Jr. said, “When our days become dreary with low hovering clouds of
despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us
remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working to pull down
the gigantic mountains of evil, a power that is able to make a way out of no way
and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows. Let us realize the arc of
the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.”
© Copyright 2004 Alan C.
Taylor, All Rights Reserved.