Sermon by Rev. Alan Taylor
Preached at Unity Temple Unitarian Universalist Congregation
October 30, 2005
Sermon:
When Robert Bly spoke at our Coffee House last
weekend for a poetry reading, he invoked the image of the shadow in an
intriguing way. Jungian psychology posits the existence in every person’s psyche
of the shadow where lurks all the aspects of oneself that one does not
consciously acknowledge. Bly, in explaining the shadow, says that the shadow
functions as a bag that drags behind us, preventing us from being the people we
are called to be. When we are young, we have a 360 degree personality. But
during our childhood, beginning at a very early age, we begin repressing those
aspects of ourselves that our parents don’t like. They may say, “Can’t you be
still?!?” or “Don’t get angry with your brother or sister. Be nice.” To keep
our parents’ love, we put in the bag those things our parents don’t like,
anything that doesn’t conform to their expectations of us. But that’s only the
beginning. Then, when in school, we tended to hide all those aspects of
ourselves that other kids make fun of: “Don’t be a crybaby!” “You’re so slow.”
Most boys will do whatever it takes to avoid being told, “You act like a girl.”
Many girls get deluged with messages about who they should be, especially about
beauty. In fact, these messages most often come from other girls. And once in
the confusion of adolescence, for both males and females, entire chunks of
one’s self get thrown into the bag.
Different eras and different cultures promote different
shadows. In the early 1800’s, child psychologists called upon parents to put
exuberance into the bag. The expression of overt emotion was held suspect by
many, including our Unitarian forbears. In art history, one can see children
were painted as little adults—because that is what they were expected to be. I
know of a Chinese woman who says her father must never see the photo of her
laughing with her mouth open. It is always easier to identify what is in someone
else’s bag than one’s own. Yet, what we threw into the bag when we were very
young, that which was banished to the shadow of our psyche, much of it would
help us move toward psychic health and wholeness.
We all end up throwing some of our better selves into our
shadow without even realizing it. I think Bly is right: during the first twenty
years of life, we put all sorts of things into it, and then we spend the rest of
our lives finding ways to take things out. Sometimes it feels impossible to get
some things out of the bag, as if it were sealed, even when one intellectually
believes it would be helpful to bring aspects of ourselves into the light. Deep
seated fears block access, until we pay enough attention or engage in honest
self-examination in a safe place where one is in authentic relationship with
others. Then can the contents of the shadow be identified, removed, brought out
into the light, and put into the service of healing.
Because this process takes a lot of chewing, Bly says we
move things out of our bag when we eat our shadow. But if we don’t engage in
such chewing we don’t grow but instead are haunted by that which remains
unconscious. The same goes for a congregation. Today, I want to address what I
believe lies in the shadow of our faith community as well as how this
congregation has chewed on its shadow in the relatively recent past.
Most congregations have a deep-seated fear of change that
prevents meaningful growth and effective ministry. Not so here at Unity Temple.
This congregation has a recent history of dealing with change in healthy ways.
When Beacon Unitarian merged with the UU Church of Oak Park here at Unity Temple
thirteen years ago, the congregation here not only changed its name but agreed
to change the way things were done. It wasn’t easy. Some people left. There were
hurt feelings. But the end result was a renewed congregation with a stronger
vision for the future. Then, six years ago, this congregation undertook what is
the most difficult change for any growing church. It moved to two services. That
was hard, too. No longer was the congregation meeting as one happy family. But
it made space for so many more people who sought a religious community that
affirms the individual search for truth and meaning in a congregation welcoming
of all types of people.
A year and a half ago, I preached a sermon on the morning
of the installation ceremony that formally installed me as minister of this
congregation. That sermon was called “Looking Forward.” In it, I promised to
keep asking the question, “What is the dream here? What are we called to
become?” I acknowledged that when a congregation reaches a critical mass, and
this congregation has reached it, then what is possible is extraordinary; the
community as a whole is greater than the individuals put together. However,
while we here at Unity Temple are there in numbers, I don’t believe we are quite
there yet in practice. This congregation still has yet to break out of certain
habits that constrain it, fears that fetter, preventing us from being what we
are called to become.
What are we scared of? What habits are preventing us from
manifesting our potential as a faith community to be a place of influence and a
locus of transformation for individuals and the wider community? Let me answer
that by identifying a longstanding part of the shadow of Unitarian Universalism
of the last 40 years. As a denomination, we have promoted a low commitment
faith, with appallingly low expectations of our members. In addition, many of
our congregations banished or marginalized all language of faith, thus promoting
a low commitment non-faith. Of all the religious sects in North America, the
Unitarian Universalists rank dead last in giving levels relative to income—for
every year of the last thirty years. And this congregation has not been spared
by this sense of low expectations. A part of our congregational system goes back
several decades when Rev. Robert Rice gave back his salary to the church because
his wife was independently wealthy. This congregation looked to its members for
very little, and it was no surprise that for many years, this congregation
constantly languished in a budget crunch. For a long stretch, there were many
people who didn’t give anything. It was so bad, that a bar of $104 a year was
created to discern members from non-members. For the large majority of
households in this community, that is a nominal sum, a sum that amounts to no
more than dues to belong to a sub-standard social club. Heck the gyms here in
Oak Park have long charged much more than that! But a dues mentality serves to
promote a consumer mentality of a congregation. This approach isn’t good enough
for what we are about. It doesn’t serve either our members or our congregation
as a whole.
I have heard it secondhand that we should not hold high
expectations for new members, because new members won’t join. Well, it largely
depends what kind of new members we want to attract. If we want people who feel
like they don’t really need to give that much to be a part of this institution,
then, sure, we should convey that. But I regret to inform you, I have no
interest in serving a congregation that wants to perpetuate low expectations. As
your spiritual leader, please understand, I expect high levels of generosity and
participation by not only new members but longer term members as well.
I know in your heart of hearts that is what most of you
want as well. That’s why I am here. And what’s more, the majority of the people
who walk through our doors and are looking for a spiritual community to become a
part of, they aren’t looking for a social club; they aren’t looking for a place
that asks little from them. They are looking for a community of depth and
meaning. They are looking for a place that will challenge them, challenge them
so deeply that they will be changed and transformed. As we become a
high-commitment faith community, we will live out our values in ways that will
bless us and bless the wider community.
Isn’t that something you want to be a part of? Isn’t that
something you want to make possible for as many people as are longing to be a
part of a community that is committed to fostering transformation on the
individual, family, and communal levels?
This is an exciting time in the life of our congregation,
as we reflect this year on the future direction of our faith community. I hope
all members present today have read the report and recommendations that Mike
Durall provided us. I am struck by how different his report is from that of
those for three other congregations he has worked with. He has put his finger on
a number of significant issues for us. During the congregational retreat, I know
that twenty core members chewed on the report for hours, finding it full of
exciting possibilities. I also know that others are wary of some of the
recommended changes. But for the most part, it’s been awfully quiet out there,
as I check in with our leaders. It doesn’t bother me if you disagree with
recommendations or if our leadership makes other choices. What matters is that
all who are invested in this congregation participate in this process of
identifying how we will move forward.
To what extent do you all want to be more than simply a
groovy place to hang out? To answer that question, we must ask: What are the
consequences of being a vital faith community? What kind of people are we, here
at Unity Temple, what kind of people are we called to become? What do we want
for the future of our congregation? I challenge all members to chew upon these
questions. Chew with zest, chew with passion, chew with hope! Lets bring out of
the shadow all that we are called to become. Share with each other. Share with
your board members. Share with me. Come next Sunday for the public discussion
following the second service.
We are on a journey together. We have this extraordinary
building, a fortress-like building that provides a sense of solidity and
grounding, a building that has a sanctuary that calls us to be in community. And
yet this fabulous building plays into another shadow that haunts this
congregation. The hymn we just sang has for its original title “Prayer for This
House.” I chose it because of this congregation’s ambivalent relationship with
the building. During the weekend when Mike Durall was with us, the greatest
anxiety to bubble up among us revolved around our building and how we do or
don’t adequately care for it. When I first came here to Unity Temple, I
frequently heard people say that we can’t do all that much because we’ve got to
care for this building. I looked into it, and I hate to burst those bubbles, but
this is a myth. Over the last two decades, this congregation has dedicated less
money from the annual fund drive towards the building than other congregations
have toward their own. The building is an easy scapegoat for those who have
little faith in just what all is possible for our congregation. Sure, our
ministry needs to extend well beyond the shadow of our famous building, but
unless we care for the building that provides the crucible for our community,
our stinginess will bind us to being caterpillars who never transform into
butterflies. And here I have some personal experience. I have shepherded a
congregation through the building of their church home. I know what real anxiety
is like and the faith that comes with moving through that anxiety. I can assure
you that the challenges here, both for this historic building and the future
religious education building, are well within our reach.
And we’ve been making steps in the right direction—just
look around at our sanctuary—our building looks better than it has for decades,
with our ugly basement bathrooms soon to undergo extreme makeover. There’s no
question whether we will renovate the bathrooms in the coming months, it is a
question of how we shall pay for it. I appreciate the spirit of a grassroots
movement to pay for them up front rather than cover them with our line of
credit. If one hundred households were to give $600, that would cover the
bathroom project. I know very well, for some this is too much, that this is
nearly 5% of some people’s income here—and you’re already pledging it. But for
most of us, it is a mere portion of our disposable income. Angie and I are
willing to be one of those households that pledge $600, on top of our
significant pledge. How about you? How about you?
Early this week a vision came to me, a vision of the heart
and soul of this congregation. As I wrote this sermon, I debated whether I
should share it, because it’s bizarre. But then I remembered this sermon is
about facing fears that fetter. Sharing with you, seeking to strip myself of
pretension, is practicing what I preach. When I get to a quiet place and
consider the essence of this congregation, an image emerges of a pulsing green
mass that is half insect like a praying mantis and half fern unfurling its
tendrils both upward and downward, a life form that is not only being born but
is moving on its own with the anticipation of stretching its limbs out beyond
the shell that has made possible its birth. This alien figure is more
frightening than anything in any horror film I’ve seen. This pulsing mass of a
congregation is alive. It is beyond any one person’s control and has a life of
its own that is fed by the faith and trust put into it. It is an embodiment of
Spirit. Yet looking upon it is so scary, nearly impossible, not unlike Moses
encountering the burning bush. It is so fantastic. In its presence, all my fears
pale—only the fear of God does not subside, the fear of that life-giving force
that provides the source for all grace and transformation, that source of life
that is being reborn again and again.
At the root of this image is something I need to say to
you: I am committed to you—it has become suddenly clear: I am willing to die
for what we are doing here together. It’s that extraordinary. And I invite you,
I challenge you to open yourself to what you are called. Over time, this
congregation metamorphoses. It has been growing for the past three decades and
we have reached a critical mass. Now, I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I
will share with you my faith, my faith in this community, and the calling that
ever deepens among us.
And this brings me to the final thing we need to bring out
of our shadow: a resonant faith for today. It has long been the challenge of
Unitarian Universalist congregations to face the fear of the inexplicable which
keeps us bound to the irritable longing for certainty. Too often we focus our
efforts on the merely measurable. But what is life-giving and life-transforming
does not lend itself to measurement. Instead it calls for embodying our
over-arching values. It calls for faith. Faith is learning to move in an
uncertain world. We hone our faith when we decide to commit ourselves to
something larger than ourselves. Faith is tough—faith is opening our hearts with
no guarantees. Faith is the act of showing up fully without knowing what will
come next.
I am committed to leading this congregation to a depth of
relationship where we can live out our collective calling. We are called to a
life beyond our imagining. It’s terrifying to say it, and to say it so bluntly,
but I truly believe it: we are called to be more than we are today. By turning
toward that fear, we bring forth our light. This congregation provides you the
sanctuary to face those fears that fetter and to discern for what you are
willing to die.
And so I ask of you, my congregation, “What is truly
important?” Is it catering to the lowest common denominator among us? Is it
seeking not to offend anyone? Or is it something so much more? Is it giving our
lives to what we truly believe in? Is it cultivating a faith that makes a real
difference in people’s lives?
If we believe that our faith community here at Unity Temple
is capable of moving mountains and transforming lives, what is preventing us
from prioritizing this faith community ahead of other activities on Sunday
mornings. What is preventing us from approaching this community not where we pay
our dues but tithe?
I know you people—you are better, so much better than the
expectations set so long ago. Come out from behind the shadow of low
expectations. If you say you want systemic change, then let’s go. Be a part of
this change. Make a change with your life. Deepen your faith. Open yourself to
transformation.
Blessed be. Amen.
© Copyright 2005 Rev.
Alan Taylor, All Rights Reserved.
