Thin End of the Wedge

My last post (about exclusivity, inclusivity and pluralism) was more apposite than I had realised. As some of you already know, I am minister of the Banbury Unitarian Fellowship. Our local paper, the Banbury Guardian, includes a half-page on Church Services every week, giving details of places and times of services, and also a short "Thought for the Day" type column called "Cross Talk". So I submitted a short piece on 'Spring - the season of renewal', which they duly published.

A few days later, I got an apologetic phonecall from a very nice Quaker, who explained that the Cross Talk columns are parcelled out between member churches of Banbury Christians Together, which he coordinates, and that I had inadvertently 'jumped the queue' by submitting a piece independently. Of course I apologised for my blunder, and asked to be added to the list of contributors. He said that so far as he was concerned, he would be happy to add me to the rota, and would consult some other folk about it, and get back to me.

Well, the weeks went by, and I didn't hear anything, so today I gave him a ring. And apparently, there has been a strong adverse reaction to my piece appearing by certain Evangelical Christian members. The inclusion of a piece by a Unitarian is apparently "the thin end of the wedge". Before they know where they are, they'll be letting Just Anyone write a Cross Talk column - Jews, Hindus, Muslims - where would it end? He was very apologetic about it, and agreed with me that this sort of reaction is very un-Christian, to say the least.

It makes me so very sad that Unitarians are regarded as "the thin end of the wedge" because we do not believe that Jesus was the divine Son of God who was crucified to bring humankind back into right relationship with God. And it also makes me sad that no contributions from other faith traditions are permitted, let alone welcomed. Surely we are all human beings, who should be free to follow our own religious hearts, so long as we are not harming anyone else. In the year of the 200th anniversary of the Unitarian Toleration Act, I find it very sad that, in at least one corner of the United Kingdom, Unitarians are very definitely still beyond the pale. I'm not angry, just sad. And in a week when the new Pope is reaching out to atheists, surely these particular Evangelical Christians could learn to be more inclusive. (I am not saying for one moment that all Evangelical Christians would respond like this, just  noting that these particular folk have done so).

 

The Challenges of Pluralism

For the last couple of weeks, I have been listening to a wonderful Great Course called Cultural Literacy for Religion: Everything the Well-Educated Person Should Know. The tutor is Professor Mark Berkson of Hamline University, and it has been fascinating listening.

In the last lecture of the course, Religion Today - Trends, Challenges and Hope, there is a very interesting section  entitled Thinking about Others - Exclusivism, Inclusivism and Pluralism, which is very relevant to Unitarians. Obviously we are not exclusive - we don't believe that our religion is the only truth, and that folk who don't agree with us are destined for eternal hell-fire.

But "inclusive" is a word bandied around quite a lot by Unitarian communities. We pride ourselves on being inclusive and welcoming. So I found his definition of inclusivism quite interesting. He writes: "Inclusivism states that while one's own tradition is the only one that contains complete truth, salvation is still available to those who are outside of the tradition. The grace of God is extended to all human beings, and the saving work of grace can be accomplished even if the individual is not a member of their faith."

And I don't think that's what Unitarianism is about. If we take that definition of inclusivism to be correct, then we are not inclusive; we are pluralist.

Berkson states that pluralism has two forms:

1. "One form of pluralism holds that, despite the outward appearance of difference, at the deepest level, all religions are the same." (emphasis mine) In the lecture, he mentions the much-used metaphor of us all being on the same mountain, but using different paths.

2. "Other pluralists deny the sameness of all religions and argue that if we truly want to respect and appreciate other traditions, we must maintain their distinctiveness and not try to blur the differences.  The latter pluralist approach begins with the notion that ultimate reality - God, the divine - is beyond our ability to completely grasp. We must acknowledge that, as limited human beings, we can never understand divine reality in its entirety ... no religion possesses truth in its entirety. Each tradition possesses its powerful truths, but also its blind spots. The more religious traditions we welcome into the conversation, the more illumination there will be." (emphasis mine)

This is why it is so important for Unitarians to be involved in inter-faith stuff in their communities. If we are truly the second kind of pluralist, (and I think that at our best, we are) then we should welcome the opportunity to engage with other faith traditions and learn more about how they perceive religious truths, both to enrich our own knowledge, and to move into a place of understanding and compassion about people who believe differently to us.

"Oh What A Lovely War!"

Last night, I went to see Oh What A Lovely War, the 1963 play by Joan Littlewood. The programme told me that it was first performed by Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop at the Theatre Royal, Stratford East in London. The programme notes continue: "It recalls the horrors of World War I through the humour and frivolity of a seaside pier show, mixing famous British war songs with gags and dances, and sets hilarious clowning against shocking factual documentation of the war's casualties. Its blatant denunciation of the incompetence of political leaders during World War I, depicting their readiness to sacrifice the common man to achieve their own political ends is shocking in its horrific results."

It was performed by our local village drama group, Group Eight, and they really surpassed themselves. Usually, they do either a comedy of manners or a detective story at this time of year, and it was inspiring to see how they rose to the challenge of doing something deeper and darker. I found it incredibly moving. The set was fairly simple, and the action took place either side of and in front of a screen, on which was projected the horrifying statistics of the actual war. It was very effective.

People's view of war changes over time. When World War I ended, the official view, according to Reg Grant, author of Armistice 1918, "was that it had been a tragic experience, but also one steeped with heroism and a sense of noble duty fulfilled ... This view did not exclude a recognition of the horrors suffered by the men at the front, but saw the suffering as justified by a high purpose."

There is nothing like a common cause to pull people together, and to bring out the best in them. Look at the saturation bombing during World War II. Its purpose, according to Sir Arthur 'Bomber' Harris was "to scourge the Third Reich from end to end. We are bombing Germany city by city and ever more terribly in order to make it impossible for her to go on with the war. That is our object, and we shall pursue it relentlessly." The Third Reich had similar ideas about Britain.

And did it work? Of course not. Everyone was united in diversity and became even more determined to hang on and beat the enemy. Morale was high, in spite of rationing and propaganda. The government-controlled media made sure that their messages would stiffen people's resolve to endure. The situation is much the same in Afghanistan today.

In times of peace, the views of the majority can be very different. For example, in the late 1920s and early 1930s, there was a wave of anti-war feeling, and the "Great War" came to be seen as a senseless waste of human life, (as was shown so graphically in the play last night) rather than heroic sacrifice. In 1933, the Oxford Union voted overwhelmingly in favour of the proposal that "this House will not fight for King and Country." This caused a great stir, because Oxford students were an elite in Britain, and were the sort of people who would be expected to form the officer class in time of war. Which of course, six years later, they did.

Like most people nowadays, I believe that World War I was so much futile slaughter, and that most of the wars since World War II have been fought on immoral grounds. But World War II is more difficult to decide about. Most people would say "Well Hitler had to be stopped, didn't he?" Yes, but would the Nazi party have come to power if the Treaty of Versailles hadn't been such a short-sighted and vengeful document? I do sometimes wonder whether we would have been any better if we had had to endure the appalling conditions the Germans did in the decade after the First World War ended.

The common humanity of humankind should be an overarching bond that prevents war. After the terrible events of 9/11, we saw this in action - people all over the world of whatever political complexion were united in horror at the toll of death and damage. We just need to be reminded of our common humanity. Often.

Surely there are better ways of resisting evil? Look at the Norwegians and their non-violent resistance during World War II. Look at Mahatma Gandhi. Look at modern day prisoners of conscience. Look at the women of Northern Ireland. Look at the women of Greenham Common. Look at Nelson Mandela. Look at pressure groups such as Global Zero, which is campaigning for the abolition of all nuclear weapons. If only enough people would take the trouble to think for themselves and to see past the accepted Government line, I am sure that the world could become a more peaceful place. But it seems that retribution is seen to be more important than peace in most people's minds. Why are revenge  and the need for reparation the first things that anyone thinks of if they are injured? Or is it me? Am I just an idealistic fool?

The thing that the play last night really brought home to me is that it is the responsibility of the living to make meaningful the sacrifices of the dead. It is the job of anyone who is horrified by the futility and slaughter of war to attempt to influence their government and fellow citizens to work towards a more peaceful, happier world, in which war would no longer be necessary. And I know that faith groups and peace organisations the world over are trying to do this - we just all need to work together, and to keep at it, until humankind finally realises that peace is so much better than war, for everyone.

Most wars are allegedly fought to bring peace - a most ingenious paradox! We should remember the dead, but also pledge ourselves to make our world a better place - to end all wars, to relieve world debt (which would be so much easier if we weren't spending all that money on weaponry), to feed the hungry, to find cures for diseases such as cancer and AIDS, to stop destroying our environment. It is still a beautiful planet, or it could be, if we could only learn to live together in peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the Spirit Moves Me

I love the words of Quaker Stephen Allott: "It was this Spirit of God which breathed into our human clay to make us living souls." This is something I have come to believe in the past eighteen months or so, through reading the works of the great Celtic poet and theologian John O'Donohue. He wrote, and I have come to believe (because it makes sense to me) that our souls come from elsewhere, and inhabit our human bodies, our "clay", and go elsewhere after death. Our souls are animated by the Spirit - it is the Spirit that enables us to respond to the Divine in the world.

One of the most obvious ways in which the Spirit works within us (at least to me) is when we respond to something beautiful. Who has not felt their heart lift and their level of joy soar when contemplating a majestic mountain, or the endlessly changing sea, or the intricacies of a flower, or a man-made work of art, or the face of someone you love? Who has not thrilled to the sound of uplifting music or the songs of birds in the springtime, or the sound of a beloved voice? I believe that this is the Spirit within us recognising and responding to the beauty of the world all around us.

How can we learn to listen to the Spirit, and to recognise her at work in the world and in our hearts? I think that this may be attempted by what I would call 'sacred living' - recognising that God / the Spirit / the Divine Other is present everywhere, all the time. Sacred living is about weaving moments of attention into your everyday life, and recognising the sacred there. it is about living with a new level of awareness. It is about going through our days paying attention to what is happening in each passing moment. It is about noticing the presence of the divine, the numinous, everywhere, in the natural world, in other people, in ourselves and in things that happen to us. Sacred living is about rediscovering our sense of wonder, and living our lives in response to that.

 

 

 

 

Taking It As It Comes

Each day is a new day, an opportunity for growth. As it says in Rumi's wonderful poem, The Guesthouse,  "This being human is a guesthouse, Every morning a new arrival." And this is so true.

Yesterday was a good example. In the morning, I conducted a funeral - it went very well, and the family were happy with what I had done. One of the congregation made a complimentary remark about my voice, and I felt very happy.

Then I got home to find that a book I had been working on for the past eighteen months had been turned down by the publisher. The e-mail was kind and regretful, and contained some good advice, but the feelings of hurt and rejection were real.

So I have to find a balance. I have to learn to embrace each "new arrival" - to celebrate the good, and to learn from the bad, so that I can grow. I am truly grateful for all the good things in my life - family, friends, my work as a minister, the beauties of nature around me, and need to learn to be likewise grateful for any setbacks, so that I can learn from my mistakes, and maybe, one day, produce a piece of work that is worthy of publication.

May it be so.

The Commonwealth of God

Like many people, I have been horrified by the bomb attack at the Boston Marathon earlier this week, and feel so sad about this renewed evidence of violence and hatred in the world.

I have been reading Forrest Church's The Cathedral of the World: A Universalist Theology this week. One passage in it really hit home. He writes:

"Members in the Commonwealth of God are not bound together by the specifics of their religion, for the nature of our interdependence does not require this. Rather we are bound by the shared recognition that when one person suffers, all suffer; when we violate one life, all lives are violated; when we pollute the earth, all living things are stained; when one nation threatens the security of another, it, too, becomes less secure; when we place the planet in mortal danger, we hazard the future of our own children as well as the children of our enemies.

Competitive virtues elevate winners by diminishing losers. This is especially hazardous in competition between countries. In the age of the global village and the global economy, while the balance may be tipped temporarily in one side's favor, if sustained such imbalances set up the possibility of a tidal wave of terrifying proportion, which may start all the way on the other side of the world, and end up crashing down on our own shores.

Given human nature and history, to propose a relational, cooperative, and fraternal, or kinship-based, ethic fashioned to strengthen the interdependent web of being may seem idealistic and naïve. In fact, it is desperately realistic. Interrelatedness is not simply a theological concept; it is a new truth."

Amen, amen.

The Devotion of Friends

I have just been re-reading Vera Brittain's two volumes of autobiography - Testament of Youth and Testament of Experience. It has made me reflect on the nature of true friendship.

There is something very special about devoted friendship - the best marriages are based on it, for example. Such loyalty and devotion between two people is rare and precious, whether it occurs between a man and a woman, or between two people of the same sex. The relationship between Vera Brittain and Winifred Holtby is a beautiful example of a very strong same-sex devoted friendship. They met at Oxford after the First World War, and after a rocky start, became the best of friends. In her wonderful tribute to Winifred, Testament of Friendship, Vera writes of her time with Winifred in London before her (Vera's) marriage:

"Those years with Winifred taught me that the type of friendship which reaches its apotheosis in the story of David and Jonathan is not a monopoly of the masculine sex ... After a year or two of constant companionship, our response to each other's needs and emotions had become so instinctive that in our correspondence one of us often replied to some statement or request made by the other before the letter which contained it had arrived."

Winifred's love and loyalty to Vera were complete and absolute. After Vera's marriage to George Catlin, the friendship between the two women is as strong as ever; indeed for some years, Winifred shared a house with the Brittain-Catlins. She wrote a typically rueful letter to Vera shortly after the latter's marriage and subsequent removal to America for a year: "I am happy. In a way I suppose I miss you, but that does not make me less happy ... When a person that one loves is in the world and alive and well, and pleased to be in the world, then to miss them is only a new flavour, a salt sharpness in experience." When she died at the tragically early age of 37, Vera was devastated.

Every human being needs at least one deep, true friend, who, in the words of the Arabian proverb "is one to whom one may pour out all the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away. This is the sort of friendship that can, with luck and care, grow between people of all kinds.

Today is Golden Rule Day, on which we are exhorted to do unto others as we would wish to have done to ourselves, and to refrain from doing to others that which would give us pain. Every time we obey this, we are putting out a small tendril of friendship towards another person - who knows where it might lead?