A Unitarian Ten Commandments?

It was not the Biblical 10 commandments that got me thinking about this. In fact, I've always thought that a lot of the Bible's big 10 have become either so obvious or irrelevant or even offensive that they need a great deal of reinterpretation to be at all useful. (George Carlin's dissection of the 10 commandments is always worth revisiting!) A few thoughts on the 10:

• Honour your father and mother - how about honouring everyone? What about abusive parents?
• Have no other gods before me - that's what ALL the gods say!
• Do not take the lord's name in vain - oh, for god's sake...
• Do not make any images or likenesses - has been pretty well ignored from day one
• Do not swear falsely - this is not strictly about lying, only about lying when you swear in god's name...

But it has been discussion in the Introduction to World Religions class I've been leading that has made me think more seriously. In particular, it was the Buddhist take on ethical rules that struck me for it's clarity that the rules are intended for personal transformation. The fact that these come not as commandments from on high, but rather as a system for becoming enlightened raises the interest for me. (I am not saying that there is anything wrong with rules for living in society - I'm a big believer in the importance of laws!) 

This led to an attraction to the idea of a Unitarian set of ethical guidelines - something that the class has begun to discuss at least briefly.

A quick Google search showed me that Rev. Michael McGee of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Arlington VA was way ahead of me with his 2010 sermon series on A Renewed Ten Commandments.

In my proposed list of commandments below, (ten, of course!) I have borrowed and adapted from McGee. I have also taken a cue from the theology of Henry Nelson Wieman, and taken a great deal from my own congregation's input in a recent service where we explored the ethical foundations of our actions in the world and participants wrote their own short suggestions for the underpinnings of their best action.

For discussion, I offer the following. They have not been inscribed in stone tablets. They have no miraculous origin except for the not inconsiderable miracle of the human mind and heart!

A Unitarian Ten Commandments

We will strive to:

1. understand the original experience of others
2. treat each person gently and with respect
3. take care of the earth and its creatures
4. speak the truth with honesty and respect
5. act with and work for justice
6. value meaning over materialism and life over things
7. cultivate appreciation for all of life’s gifts
8. give generously
9. cultivate joy and wonder
10. be slow to anger and quick to forgive

A whole life

If I were to summarize what I understand to be the most faithful way of living, it is to "embrace life whole."  I mean to say that the world is a very messy place - not in any sense the stuff of sit-coms and other fairy tales. 

Our lives are sometimes beautiful and sometimes terrible. Sometimes life treats us with apparent kindness and generosity and other times it seems we can't catch a break. Even so, being complete and living fully means being present to all of this - the joys, the sorrows, the births, the deaths... everything. Holding back from any one aspect of life creates distance - not only from what we wish to avoid - but from everything.

Three weeks ago, my mother died. Hers was not a death that could easily be dismissed with "she suffered so - she is finally at peace."  My mother, though in her late seventies, was vibrant, energetic, mentally sharp, and physically fit - fit except for a heart valve that had leaked for decades and was now becoming worse, leaving her short of breath. It was time to have that repaired so that she could have a shot at another decade or two of the kind of vibrant living to which she was accustomed and committed.  A botched surgical valve replacement led not to a better quality of life, but to her death after three very bad months.

Well, here it is. The storms have come again to my life. The emotions swirl like cows, bicycles, and houses in some enormous Kansas tornado: 

Flying by over there is my sadness - a feeling of loss - an aching in my gut for all the things I will never be able to say, for the phone calls that will never come, for the moments when I think how pleased she will be at some bit of news and realize that I will never be able to share it with her and hear and see her enthusiasm.

And my anger goes whipping past the window now - a surgeon who couldn't be bothered to visit his failing patient in her suffering goes on making his fortune through a rushed series of surgeries that are not always as careful as he advertises. (A subsequent surgeon discovered that the first operation was badly botched in several ways). I want some kind of apology, if not full out vengeance!

Oh no!  There goes my compassion for her husband - my step-father - who is too deep in dementia to be able to cope with this, but sadly, not deep enough to be unaware of the tragedy that has befallen him. He weeps and I comfort him. 

But it is not only the debris of misery swirling around in this great wind. Over here is the love and support I feel from so very many people - people who come and call and write and email and make their care visible. It is a warmth and a sense of connection that has become to feel so much stronger in sorrow than in better times.

And over there is the joy of the deepening of my bonds to my family - the bereaved. I am especially grateful for the way suffering has brought a deeper connection with my beloved sister. Together, we cry and laugh our way through darkness into light.

And there are the memories that float past whenever I take a moment to look... With a sense of any true life after death coming to me only in my most sentimental moments, the life that continues is what we carry in our minds and hearts. My mother brought a tremendous love and energy and connection and beauty to her world. I know that I can carry these wonderful facets of her life with me for the rest of mine.

On and on the harsh and gentle winds of life blow. We spin and swirl. We laugh and cry. We live and die.

Mary Oliver asks "...what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

Live it. Live it fully and wholly. 

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.