Sermon by Rev. Alan Taylor
Preached at Unity Temple Unitarian Universalist Congregation
October 24, 2004
Sermon:
"Perhaps he did not invent
dialogue, which was originally a Sicilian mime or puppet play, but [Socrates]
introduced the idea that individuals could not be intelligent on their own, that
they needed someone else to stimulate them.” Theodore Zeldin, in his lovely
book, An Intimate History of Humanity says, “Before [Socrates], the model
for all speech was the monologue: the wise man or the god spoke and the rest
listened. But Socrates had been through the trauma of studying science and had
been left with the feeling that he would never know what to believe. His
brilliant idea was that if two unsure individuals were put together, they could
achieve what they could not do separately: they could discover the truth, their
own truth, for themselves. By questioning each other and examining their
prejudices, dividing each one of these into many parts, finding the flaws, never
attacking or insulting, but always seeking what they could agree between them,
moving in small steps from one agreement to another, they would gradually learn
what the purpose of life was. Wandering through Athens, through the markets and
meeting places, Socrates demonstrated how dialogue worked, accosting artisans
and politicians and people of all callings, questioning them about their work
and opinions. Whatever they happened to be doing at the moment, they must have a
reason, they must think it was right, or just, or beautiful; and so he led the
discussion to what those words meant. He argued that it was inadequate simply to
repeat what others said, to borrow beliefs. One had to work them out for
oneself. He was a teacher such as had never existed before, who refused to
teach, who refused to be paid, insisting that he was as ignorant as the pupil,
and that the way to find a reason for living was to engage in a conversation."
Conversation gets a bad rap when connected with Unitarian
Universalist circles. You probably have heard the joke whether a UU would prefer
to go to heaven or to a conversation about heaven. Conversation plays a big role
in the practice of our faith tradition. And I’m not taking about chit-chat. I’m
talking about genuine conversation when two or more people engage in creative
interchange from two distinct vantage points. For genuine conversation happens
not when people assent to everything the other says but when two people’s point
of view converge, mingle, and are enhanced by one another. Disagreement is a
natural, healthy state of affairs in any relationship. Disagreements, even those
that reach the level of conflicts pose opportunities for growth if one is open
to conversation.
In the state of Montana, there are only five Unitarian
Universalist congregations, not one of them large enough to afford a full time
minister. But, nine years ago, they all agreed to participate in Ministry
Sunday, a national stewardship project to raise money for scholarships and
retired ministers without pensions. The congregations in Missoula and Kalispell,
albeit two and a half hours away from one another, held a joint service in
Kalispell. As an eager seminarian, I was asked to conduct the service and flew
out there that early November. I don’t remember what all I said. But I remember
vividly the first person to speak with me after the service. He was a large man
sitting in the back. Yet, he somehow managed to be the first person to approach
me up front. He said, “I've got a bone to pick with you, we are not a religious
community. We are a spiritual community.” I asked him what he meant. For him,
“religious” communities are faith organizations that tell people what to
believe, whereas, a spiritual community puts the authority in the individual.
Given how individualistic Montana folks are, you might think Unitarian
Universalism would thrive out there! It was only after this conversation that I
honed my own thinking and realized our liberal religious heritage ultimately
looks to something larger than the individual for religious authority. I call a
congregation a religious community not because of teachings about God or morals,
for we have plenty of people who are not theistic. We are a religious community
because religious authority in our faith tradition ultimately rests not with the
individual but with the congregation. We are a religious people not because we
all believe the same thing—we don’t—but because we agree to walk together for
the sake of cultivating lives of deeper purpose and meaning.
The Hebrew prophet Amos asked simply: “Can two walk
together except they be agreed?” What distinguishes our faith tradition from
orthodoxy is how we answer that ancient yet poignantly relevant question. Most
orthodox traditions respond “No. If we are not agreed on doctrine, we cannot
walk together.” Such orthodox communities often are exclusive. If you agree to
their doctrine, you’re in, if you don’t you’re out. Some of my fellow clergy go
so far to claim that voting for someone who condones abortion is a sin, and that
publicly support a woman’s right to choose warrants exclusion from the beloved
community.
The free church tradition responds differently to Amos’
question whether we can walk together if we don’t agree on issues of God, sin,
and salvation. Of course. Why not? To be sure, we need some agreement on how we
will be together. As Unitarian Universalists, we agree to be respectful of one
another, to affirm the dignity of all regardless of religious belief. Indeed, we
agree to disagree theologically. Or as 16th century Transylvanian Unitarian,
Francis David said so simply, “We need not think alike to love alike."
It’s one thing to disagree with people among our religious
community. It can be quite another to disagree with people beyond these walls.
Here we share a common covenant that provides the space to disagree, to
respectfully engage, and to learn from one another through dialog. Outside, we
periodically deal with the anger and resentment that some people express when
their ideas are challenged. I suppose that happens intermittently within these
walls as well.
In this polarized political season, I imagine most of us
find ourselves in disagreement with family members, colleagues at work, even
fellow parishioners about the election. I know it’s tough—anxiety makes dialog
more difficult. And yet it's all that much more important. I’ve heard about a
shouting match between Unitarians, one a supporter of John Kerry and another of
Ralph Nader. Personally, I have never felt so passionate and anxious about an
election. Until this season, I’ve never displayed a political sign in front of
my house. This morning’s cartoon editorial in the Chicago Tribune shows too men.
One with a Bush/Cheney sign, the other with a Kerry/Edwards sign. They are
fiercely duking it out. A bystander comments to another “I’m beginning to miss
political apathy.” A part of me wonders if I am fueling polarization, especially
given there is no other sign on my block. Such a worry comes from the part of me
that doesn’t like to take issue with others, to induce a scowl upon a neighbor’s
face if they aren’t in agreement with me. I was raised to refrain from
expressing myself in ways that might offend others. I’ve always hated evoking
disagreement. Instead I typically seek tranquility among my relations with
others. But a larger part of me says that this opportunity to express my views
is not only an expression of conscience but the heart of democracy. If people of
conscience don’t clearly express their positions, or, worse, don’t express them
at all for fear of offending another, then everyone loses because those voices
aren’t helping to shape the public square.
Disagreement, especially in matters concerning the public
square or the common life, whether that be in a country, a family, a
congregation, or a community, is essential for clarifying the ideals of the
whole, to determine how to move forward into the future. This value of freedom
of expression, of dissent, of taking issue with leadership is not only a core
aspect of democracy it also is at the heart of our religious tradition.
There is much to be critical of our Puritan past, from
their religious persecution of others to their prudish and somber ways, but we
have the Puritans to thank for the foundation of both our democratic nation and
our free church tradition. When faced with how they would govern themselves and
how the many fledgling churches popping up all over the young Massachusetts Bay
Colony would relate to each other, they drew up a document called the Cambridge
Platform in 1648. John Winthrop along with his fellow Puritan elders, after much
conversation, agreed that each congregation serves as a beacon on a hill for its
own community, and each congregation should be able to determine its own
minister, how to use its resources, and how to embody their faith in the
community. The Cambridge Platform made clear that each congregation would
organize around a covenant, a covenant made real through relationship. This
document of 1648 enumerates five ways of being in relationship with one another:
mutual care, consultation, admonition, participation in the Lord’s table,
meaning that everyone is welcome, and relief and help to the poor. I find one of
these striking and especially pertinent: admonition. By admonition, I don’t mean
punishing or chastising, but expressing dismay or concern when another does
something disturbing.
To be in right relationship with one another in a
democratic institution, we need to learn how to admonish respectfully. As a
public figure, I periodically receive admonishment. I never relish it, but I
find, over time, how valuable it is to listen for the undertones of care and
respect when people express disagreement or concern. I also know how it has hurt
my past ministries when I’ve not heard critical feedback that was meant to be
constructive. Sometimes such feedback really wasn’t helpful, but sometimes, if
only I hadn’t been anxious, there would have been pieces for me to learn. Have
you been admonished lately? If so, you have the opportunity to listen for the
undertones of care and respect and to discern your growing edges. Whether we
like it or not, life is such that we are always given plenty more chances to
learn where it is we need to grow. For our growing edges don’t simply go away
but instead wait for us to see them for what they are and push them forward, so
we can, in the words of William Ellery Channing, grow ever more in the likeness
of God.
We cannot walk together, as a congregation, a community, a
country, if we isolate ourselves from one another. We cannot be in genuine,
effective relationship if we don’t air honest disagreements in a spirit of
respect. Disagreement is a natural part of community life, for there are many
shades of truth. Folks who see the world in black and white absolutes and insist
that you are either with them or against them demonstrate a lack of maturity. To
claim that criticism of the government’s position is tantamount to supporting
terrorism is to claim that the government is above reproach, above humanity,
above God. Such a puerile claim debases democracy and requires respectful
admonishment. Those who openly advocate for a Christian theocracy, for whom
their positions are above reproach because they hold them in the name of their
faith, these people need to be simply resisted by bringing together the majority
of moderates in our country who understand the real spirit of the colors red,
white, and blue.
Here at Unity Temple, critical inquiry is a core religious
value. Critical inquiry is the capacity to look at a situation from many angles,
to acknowledge that there can be different perspectives, and to discern one’s
own perspective. This skill is learned. It is honed by practice. It requires a
willingness to regard disagreements as creative tensions, as opportunities to
explore common ground, where differences lie, and how to move forward with a
respect for those differences.
To know our Unitarian Universalist faith is to practice it,
not unlike how John Winthrop did three and a half centuries ago. Not unlike
Socrates two millennia ago. Unity Temple serves us today as a sanctuary and a
crucible for spiritual growth.
If heaven is a place where there is no disagreement, no
creative tension, no opportunities for growth and fulfillment, I must say, I’d
prefer a conversation about heaven. Of course you can disagree.
May we find ways to listen, to invite dialog, and, when
need be, to admonish in the spirit of love.
Blessed be. Amen.
© Copyright 2004 Alan C.
Taylor, All Rights Reserved.
