Metaphors matter

Human beings need images to think about complex things. We need to simplify and compare and picture in order to hold a multifaceted concept and we need these images even more if we are to successfully communicate such concepts to others.

Peter Bowden, a Unitarian Universalist congregational growth guru, recently started a fascinating thread in the UU Growth Lab on FaceBook by asking about metaphors for Unitarian/Unitarian Universalist congregations. The question is not about how to market our faith - it is much deeper than that. It asks about the essence of our congregations. What images most closely captures the central purpose and identities of the transformative communities of faith that we aim to create and sustain.

Over the years, I have heard many congregational metaphors tossed about: A "safe harbour" is a common one that emphasizes shelter and protection - a sense of withdrawal from a difficult world into a safe place. Certainly part of the answer, but only one part.

Abigail Van Buren famously proclaimed "A church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints", capturing another important aspect of congregational life: we are not here to create congregations of perfect people; we must recognize that each of us is wounded and in need of healing and transformation. Only when we come together in our vulnerability and acceptance can we be transformed. 

Other congregational metaphors speak to our acceptance of diverse ways of thinking and believing: we are a "mosaic" of many colors, shapes and textures but come together to create something of great beauty - to create an image that we can not see in our separateness. We are a "house" where we understand that the light of the sacred is the same no matter which of many windows it shines through.

"Family" is a commonly raised metaphor, although we should always remember how hard it is to enter a family! Does anyone really want to be the new brother-in-law that nobody trusts for the first 20 or 30 years?

There were many other responses in the Growth Lab which I won't repeat here as they may be original and I have not asked permission. Suffice it to say that they variously reflect the experimental, educational, and energetic natures of a congregation.

How about this: The ideal congregation is "a base camp for life's expedition." 

I understand Unitarian congregation at their best to be places for rest and for equipping and organizing the journey to the heights of justice and spirit.

Yes, there are times when we are exhausted and hurt and maybe ill, and our congregations must be places for rest and restoration. They must be a places where we can tend to one another in pursuit of healing.

But a congregation must be much more than a refuge. It must be a place that prepares us for the true work of our lives - the mountains we must climb to become increasingly full and whole souls. These are mountains of self discovery - of spirit and love and depth. And they are mountains of outer work - the work that we do to help make our world a place that is more accepting, more compassionate, and more just.

Come into the base camp. Whether you are sore and tired and need of rest or fully ready for the climb. We will tend to one another's needs. We will journey together. With dedication, compassion, commitment, and love, we will ascend life's summits.

How crazy is that?

I received yet another notice today about a group where I can use past-life regression to explore my previous existences so I can better understand how to live well and happily in this life.

I declined the invitation. I'll work on one life at a time, thanks.

But while I do want to decline, I don't want to do so derisively - with a scornful laugh at "those foolish New-Agers." I find myself torn between having that dismissive reaction and wanting to keep myself open to all kinds of ways of thinking, believing, and practicing.

I am not surprised at all that the traditional religionists are ready to dismiss the New Agey stuff without a second thought. They don't have to wrestle with such questions. For them, it is either part of the accepted dogma or it is nonsense.

Now, let's recognise here that if anyone came to you with a modern day story of a god walking around the earth, getting executed as a criminal, and then coming back to life - and that believing the right stories will guarantee you a place in heaven - you would be at least as dismissive as many of the people who believe that story are of the healing power of crystals.

Just as the great age of a story should not make it more credible, neither should the newness or unfamiliarity of a story or belief make it incredible.

What is an open-minded Unitarian to do? By what standards are we to evaluate beliefs and practices, whether old or new?

Unitarianism has long placed a strong emphasis on the use of reason, but while this has been interpreted by many as a requirement that beliefs be scientifically and logically sound, this is neither historically accurate nor - I would argue - a spiritually helpful stance. Spirituality and religion are about having faith - about holding onto hope - about working for justice even when these positions are plainly irrational. We believe in love not because it is about to break out in the world and break in to our lives, but because we faithfully cling to our conviction that this is what the world needs and that we will do our part whether or not it is rational to do so.

In the UK, about five-fold more people say they are "spiritual but not religious" than attend any kind of traditional religious observances. Because they are exploring beyond the bounds of western tradition, some of us are ready to mock and dismiss them. If so, then we are the ones who will be relegated to history's vast dustbin.

The "spiritual but religious" are doing what human beings have always done - seeking new ways to make meaning in their lives. We ignore them at the risk of our own increasing irrelevance.

Let's return to the question I posed above: By what standards are we to evaluate beliefs and practices?

The standard must not be scientific. And even though there is some truth to the notion that better systems survive the test of time, there are some truly awful beliefs and practices that have done so.

I would begin by looking at the organisations promulgating a particular path. Have they made themselves wealthy? Do they use coercion to keep people "in the fold"? Do they condemn those who believe differently? If yes, then run - do not walk - in the opposite direction.

My test has more to do with how a belief or practice leads its adherents to live. If the path makes its followers more loving, more connected, more respectful, and more ready to seek justice for all beings, then I'm ready to take a closer look.

Past-life regression fails many of these tests, but I will not assume that everything new is bad. And that - quite simply - is a part of my faith.

A liberal congregation grows in London

For the past four and a half years, I have been fortunate enough to be the minister - first student and then fully fledged - of the Newington Green and Islington Unitarians in north London. Each year over those years, I've had the pleasure of marking and celebrating the growth of this rapidly-growing congregation. The time for that tallying is always at the beginning of the New Year, when we honour and celebrate those who became members of the congregation over the previous year. So, here we are again!

I was sure that this year our growth would finally slow down. A month ago, it looked like it would, but a late swell of new members meant that we grew faster than ever before! Four and a half years ago, there were thirty-five members. This year, we are welcoming twenty-eight new members. After adding in the new members and removing a few inactive members from the roles - we have decisively broken the one-hundred barrier and reached 106 members. This is a congregation where - when my predecessor began some ten years ago - the total membership was about one dozen.

Each year, as we grew, we have heard comments from outside the congregation that the growth can not and will not continue. We have heard that our success is simply due to being in a good location. And most sadly, we have heard that with growth like that, we must not be 'authentic Unitarians.' Fortunately, that latter view comes from a small minority of very discouraged people.

Well, the growth has certainly continued. If I'm not mistaken, we are now the second largest Unitarian congregation in England as measured by membership.

Why have we grown? And why is our membership so young (we are at least half young adults, despite the minister being a decidedly middle-aged adult!)

As always, explaining congregational growth is extremely difficult - it is the result of so many factors. Some are the things we're doing right and others are simply the traps we've managed not to fall into.

Here are the factors I think explain our growth:

• Our services are not bad... They could be a whole lot better (and they will be!) but they are good enough not to repel visitors!
• We handle conflict reasonably well - people don't sense a lot of anger or hostility when they come in
• We are visible in the world - with signs, articles in the local paper, our web site, Twitter, Facebook, etc. we make sure that people can find us easily.
• We know what we're here for. My predecessor laid the ground work and a clear mission has emerged of a justice-seeking congregation that welcomes, accepts, loves, and thereby heals. 
• We are not afraid. We've taken controversial stands on social justice issues and let the chips fall as they will.
• We have good lay leadership. Our committee members and other volunteers understand our mission and put that ahead of their personal preferences.
• We have focused on the people who need Unitarianism and are not yet among us. We strive to be conscious of their interests, tastes, needs, and ways of thinking. We have reached out to them with programming that addresses their life issues and interests.
• We set goals and then keep our eyes on them and work to meet them. 
• Continuous improvement - we never cease to ask how we could be doing something better
• We are not afraid to fail - we fail often and know that this is the cost of trying new things. Experimentation is good!

This is the best I can do at this point in time. I hope it is helpful to others. 

I would just ask us all to remember that it is not only religiously conservative congregations that can grow. If we reach out to the millions who share the open-minded, open-hearted, justice-seeking perspective of Unitarianism, we will experience dramatic growth, we will transform lives, and we will make a better, more tolerant, more justice, more peaceful, and more loving world.

A prayer/meditation for the sacredness of community

I've never posted a prayer here before, and I thought I'd give it a try. If it flies like a lead balloon, it will be the first and last at the same time! (If you want to use/adapt these words, feel free! Permission granted!)

Let’s settle into our selves now for a moment, allowing the time and space we need to reconnect with the wisdom within, with the sacred as we understand it. 

Each day of our lives, we contend with challenges and we encounter wonders. We have our deep sorrows and our enlivening joys. And most of the time, we face life in our essential aloneness. 

We join together in community because we have come to know somehow that our aloneness is not enough. We have learned that the myths of individual self-sufficiency are false and toxic. We have learned that independence weakens us and our world while interdependence strengthens us all. 

Alone, we struggle to find the strength to cope with hard realities. We cast about for answers with nothing to hold on to. Alone, we fail to be present to life’s wonders and to know the deep satisfaction that comes of appreciation and gratitude. Alone, our perspective narrows until we can see little more than the inside of our own eyelids and our immediate frustrations. 

Together though, we find strength. At our best times, our togetherness brings a courage into our hearts that we could not have expected. It brings a force of love that threatens to burst from our usually tentative hearts. It deepens our longing for justice throughout our world. 

Together, a spirit emerges among us. We understand this spirit in so many different ways and know that no words are adequate – no images accurate – no understandings sufficient. 

And yet we know that the something that becomes present participates with us to recreate our lives and our world. It is to this spirit that we address ourselves now. 

Unnameable spirit, be in us and among us. May we come to open our hearts to all that is. May we be with one another in authenticity and in compassion. May we broaden our view to take in all manner of things without judgement. 

Help us to be a community of spirit – a community where love becomes real, where acceptance is unconditional, and where justice is a necessity. 

Amen

What about God?

To be completely honest, the word "God" does not have a lot to do with my way of being religious - at least not when I consider the word God in a traditional sense. So, when I was asked recently "what is your theology of God?" I fumbled around without a particularly clear answer. The question deserves an answer, even if only because God is the word that plays the central role in most traditional religion.

I find it easy to say what role God does NOT play in my theology. For starters, I am quite convinced that there is no God that controls our lives, unleashes natural disasters, or decides who will "miraculously" survive a terrible plane crash.

I also can not conceive of a God that needs my praise or supplication to encourage God do good in the world. If there is an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God, would this entity really have a delicate ego in need of human strokes?

I feel certain too that God is not an old white guy with a long beard and a golden heavenly throne. In fact, I can't accept any notion of a gendered God and I don't believe that using the kind of language we use to describe human beings is either helpful or appropriate. God is not the sort of thing we can fully describe or understand; after all, if God is beyond our full comprehension - as most traditions assert - it would probably be best if we could stop trying to do just that.

With all of those traditional images around, I'm inclined to say that the word "God" has more often been an impediment to my spiritual growth than a guide in that journey. After all, it is the prevalence of those views of the divine that kept me away from religion for so many years before I found that there are ways to be religious that don't depend on conceptions of the divine that I find so difficult and unpalatable.

But there have also been times when I have come across understandings of God that do indeed speak to me.

One of these is the conception of God as an intangible force or spirit that leads us toward the good. This God is a flow rather than a consciousness - a direction rather than an answer - a "way" rather than a rule-giver.

Another image of God is as a source - an infinite reservoir of hope and love and compassion upon which we can draw when our own stores have been depleted by misfortune, sorrow, and by the seemingly endless needs of a world in pain.

A third way of seeing God that appeals to me is God as action rather than as entity. This view sees God as the inspiration and revelation that come when we open ourselves to one another and expand ourselves and each other through a deep, authentic interchange. This "God event" brings understanding, compassion, and connection to our lives. God is - in this way of thinking - an action in which we can participate. It is a happening that brings love and justice more surely than any bearded, enthroned, divine ruler.

Can I really put together these loose ends to become a coherent answer to "what is your theology of God?" probably not, and in fact, a clear coherent view of what is essentially unknowable may be contrary to the ineffable nature of the divine essence.

But, a question asked awaits a response, if not an "answer." thus, I would say this:

I conceive of God as beyond understanding. God represents that which we can not prove, or grab hold of and which is yet central to living with wholeness and connection. The conception of God can serve us well if we are careful to avoid the trap of personification. With anthropomorphic images, understandings, and analyses set aside, the incomprehensible, intangible God becomes that which brings us back to the ways in which we choose to live faithfully: to reach outward and be filled when we are depleted, to find a way toward goodness when we are lost, and to participate in the expansive, life-embracing action that helps to create a heaven on earth.

A church for atheists?

I am the minister of a church for atheists!!

Of course, it is also a church for theists. It is also a church for all kinds of other "ists."

I was speaking with a member of my congregation yesterday who said her friend wouldn't want to come to church because he's an atheist. I waited for more... yeah? and? Oh, I get it! He thinks that church is not for atheists. He's right of course - usually...

Just about no one who calls him/herself an atheist would expect to be welcome in a "church", much less to find something there to nurture, inspire, and sustain them.

They would be wrong - at least in the case of some Unitarian/Unitarian Universalist congregations, such as mine in north London. [I've heard it said that a Unitarian is an atheist who likes to sing hymns - as long as the words are suitably modified!]

What! Atheists in church and not to be forcibly converted or burned at the stake? I know it's unexpected, but yes, atheists sitting beside monotheists, polytheists, pagans, humanists, agnostics...  all of us trying our best to find meaning in life, to be more deliberate and present in the moment, and to figure out how we can work together to make our world more just and peaceful.

It's important to say that defining "atheism" is almost impossible. It means not believing in God, of course, but that forces us to define God - a nearly impossible task. Within my congregation, definitions of God range all the way from the all-powerful enthroned, bearded 'big daddy in the sky' [this mostly from the people who would say "I don't believe in God"] to a force of love that we draw upon when we are at our best or even to the truest and best self we find within us.

In general "I am an atheist" really means "I am not going to believe the unbelievable supernatural stories that traditional religions present as truth. I have my own mind and I'm going to use it!"  If that's our definition, then I am an atheist too. Do I believe that a personal God literally created the world, that the whole earth shook when the Buddha achieved awakening, or that the Goddess is a personal reality in our lives? Do I believe that praying to God can make something good happen or prevent something bad? Not at all.

I do believe though that when we come together in community with an openness to hear each other's stories and beliefs, and when we deliberately commit to working to grow and be our best selves, that something very worthwhile, sustaining, and inspiring happens. And - for historical reasons - I call the place where this happens "church".

My idea of "church" is a place where we step aside from the hectic lives we lead - lives that are awash in the materialistic, individualistic messages of the world of business. And in this place, we pause to consider who and what we truly are and want to be - what creates meaning and satisfaction in life - what is important to us. We turn to one another and we share the answers we have found and then we ask more questions together and we search some more. It is a place where we care what happens to each other, where we aim higher, where we strive to include everyone. It is a place where we envision the world we want and then we go out and try to create that loving, just world of our dreams.

Atheists - come to this church. You are welcome.

Light a candle for miracles

Don't give up hope! The order of things could turn upside down tomorrow. What would you do then?

I am a Unitarian from a Jewish background. That makes me what is often called either a "Junitarian" or a "Jew-U." I like that because it gives a hint of Unitarianism's openness. On the other hand, it's a bit of a misleading term since my spirituality is informed by so many traditions now. Still, I find that the Jewish traditions continue to offer significant inspiration.

Today is the third day of Hanukkah.  Although Hanukkah has become a very well-known Jewish holiday, it's not traditionally a major celebration. It only expanded in importance when Judaism came into contact with Christianity and Jewish kids felt an understandable envy around the deluge of Christmas presents. Junitarians typically get gifts for both Hanukkah and Christmas - a really good deal.

Hanukkah commemorates the defeat of the powerful armies of Syrian king Antiochus IV by a Jewish guerilla band led by the Maccabees in the second century BCE. The story focuses on that victory but also on the re-purification of the Jerusalem temple after it had been defiled by the occupiers. The so-called 'miracle' of Hanukkah is that a one-day supply of lamp oil  lasted a full eight days - long enough for more consecrated oil to be made ready.

A story like this is all well and good, but it's only powerful and useful if it speaks to our condition today. I want to suggest two important messages.

First, the world that looks so fixed and set against you can change tomorrow in unexpected and often wonderful ways. Five days ago, my mother had heart surgery. She was unconscious. She couldn't even breathe on her own. Today, she's walking the hospital halls faster and faster and looking remarkably well. What might it be in your life? The daughter who is addicted to drugs finally goes into rehab. The tumor shrinks. The love you have been looking for appears as if out of nowhere. You find that affordable flat, that rewarding job, or the purpose that keeps you inspired.

You may want to call them miracles. I call them the generosity and abundance of life. Don't give up hope. Things change in remarkable ways.

And second, our blessings rarely arrive without our participation and our attention. The occupying armies did not simply trot back to Syria out of boredom or because a divine presence blew them that way. The Maccabean Revolt was a very human endeavour - an application of courage, hope, and cleverness in a situation that seemed doomed to failure. Lamp oil did not appear from nowhere. The lamp did not light itself. Just a little bit that had been saved and held precious and that small portion of oil was set ablaze - the very human contribution done with unwarranted hope. Participation is essential.

And much of what comes as a miracle depends on what we are willing to see as a miracle. In the context of the grand parade of biblical miracles, lamp oil lasting a few days longer than expected is really a rather minor miracle. If the Jews had sat watching an unlit lamp, praying for it to light itself without any oil or spark, they would have had nothing but disappointment. Miracles are how we define them and what we watch for an appreciate when it arrives.

For this Hanukkah, find the senseless optimism that we call hope. Expect wonders. Expect relief. Expect joy and expect blessings. And then get in there and help make it happen!