Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

The German theologian, Martin Luther, who famously nailed his Ninety Five Theses to the doors of All Saints Church in Wittenberg in 1517, thereby starting the Protestant Reformation, has some good advice for us: "For we must ascend gradually, on a flight of stairs to other stages, no-one becomes the first in one fell swoop."

This is good advice not only for life in general, but also for the spiritual journey.  At least, for Unitarians. I understand that some Christians have a profound conversion experience and make the huge step from non-belief to accepting Jesus as their Lord and Saviour in "one fell swoop" as Luther said.

But we Unitarians tend to be more cautious. Our faith is based on what our reason and conscience tell us is right and true. And that may change over time. What I believe now, in my early sixties, is very different to what I believed in my twenties. As the 19th century Unitarian minister Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, " What we are is God's gift to us. What we become is our gift to God." And this becoming is often not a straight road, with no diversions, no backsliding. Which is why most of us only manage to move two steps forward, one step back at a time.

There are many lovely quotations about the spiritual journey in Stephen Lingwood's anthology, The Unitarian Life:  Voices from the Past and Present. Michaela von Britzke wrote, "A spiritually growing person - like a spiritually growing congegation - is developing awareness and a capacity to pay ttention to what is at hand in daily tasks and encounters, as a template for understanding and filling a place in the wider scheme of things." 

That is what why I agree with Martin Luther's quote about doing the journey step by step, stage by stage. 

And yet, as UU Sarah York wrote in Singing the Living Tradition, "We receive fragments of holiness, glimpses of eternity, brief moments of insight. Let us gather them up for the precious gifts that they are and, renewed by their grace, move boldly into the unknown."

These "fragments of holiness, glimpses of eternity" can help us on our journeys, enabling us to move onto the next step and "into the unknown." But we often need the help of others to be aware enough, attentive enough, to see them for what they are. And what these fragments and glimpses mean to one person may not speak to the condition of another (to use the Quaker phrase).

Which is what being part of a Unitarian religious and spiritual community means. Being able to talk to other people about our own spiritual journeys and to hear about theirs is so precious.

Food, Faith, and Fellowship

I came home from our General Assembly of Unitarian & Free Christian Churches Annual Meetings on Saturday, feeling quite uplifted. The Meetings are a wonderful opportunity to see "Unitarians at their best" - to meet old friends, make new ones, and learn more about our beloved Uncommon Denomination.

When you get 300+ Unitarians together all in one space, there are bound to be differences of opinion (come to think of it, this happens when there are 3!) but this year, there seemed to be a spirit of tolerance and respect around, which was lovely to experience and behold.

The title of the Anniversary Service summed up these Meetings for me - it was a Feast of the Heart. A feast of good food, vibrant faith, and good fellowship. From the Peace Fellowship's Opening Celebration to the investment of Dot Hewerdine as our new President, it was a very special few days.

I know that our numbers are dwindling at an alarming rate, but I refuse to give  up hope. I believe that what Unitarianism has to offer is so special that we need to positively articulate what we *do* believe in - freedom from subscription to a particular set of beliefs; an opportunity to share our spiritual journeys in the company of like-hearted folk, a broad, inclusive, welcoming community, and compassion and respect for those different to ourselves. What's not to like?

Respecting Others' Boundaries

On the eve of our Unitarian General Assembly meetings, a timely post popped up on Facebook. It was written by Ramon Selove, a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Shenandoah Valley,
who is also autistic.

In it, he explains some of the issues he has with meeting people, touching people and with general noise levels. It is "stressful for me to be in the presence of a large number of people and it is much worse when many conversations are going on at the same time." The link to the full article is below.

Another issue is being touched by people. I was surprised to learn recently, from a fairly extrovert friend, that the kiss on the cheek with which I customarily greeted her was not really welcome. I was distressed that I had unwittingly disrespected her boundaries. Selove covers the "welcome levels of touch" issue in some detail, and suggests icons on name badges to indicate what an individual is comfortable with. For example "hugs welcome" or "handshake only" or "no kissing".

He concludes: "There is, of course, a much simpler approach: encourage everyone to 'ask first'."

So as we greet old friends and make new ones at our meetings, maybe we should bear all this in mind. I am certainly going to try.

http://callandresponse.blogs.uua.org/preventable-suffering-a-uu-with-autism-confronts-coffee-hour/

Honesty - always the best policy?

I have been brought up to believe that honesty is the best policy. It was drummed into me as a child that one should always tell the truth, and that telling lies or acting dishonestly was wrong. The Quaker Advice no. 37 asks:

"Are you honest and truthful in all you say and do? Do you maintain strict integrity in business transactions and in your dealings with individuals and organisations? Do you use money and information entrusted to you with discretion and responsibility?"

And Alfred Hall, in Beliefs of a Unitarian, writes: "Unitarianism is not a system of creeds or beliefs. It is more than anything else an attitude of mind. It is a fresh way of looking at life and religion. ... Its method is that of appeal to reason, conscience and experience generally, and above all to elemental principles of truth and right which are implanted in the human heart at its nobles and embedded in the universe."

So not much room for equivocation then.

I wonder. Perhaps being honest and truthful is generally the best policy, but sometimes, just sometimes, telling a white lie, or even a whopping, great black lie may be the right thing to do. To cite just one example, look at the Dutch, German and other citizens during the Second World War, who hid and protected Jews, and saved their lives, by lying to and deceiving the Nazis.

And I honestly (there's that word again) do believe that sometimes telling a white lie in order to avoid hurting someone's feelings is definitely the best policy. Perhaps the key to knowing when to bend the truth is to use your reason and conscience, and to put what you believe to be right over the simple yes/no of telling a lie or telling the truth. I can see the dangers of this - if we do this, we are having to judge what is right or wrong in each individual case, and sometimes, we don't have enough information at our disposal to make the best decision (or what turns out to be the best decision in the long run).

I don't have any answers. Perhaps the best that any of us can do is to follow the best that we know, and to hope and pray that we will be guided to do and say what is right. May it be so.

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 for liberal religions

One of the highlights for me of the recent General Assembly of Unitarian & Free Christian Churches Annual Meetings was the keynote speech by Paul Parker, Recording Clerk of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) in Britain. He spoke movingly about the future of liberal religions from a Quaker perspective. I would guess that most of those present could identify strongly with the challenges he spoke about:

Paul Parker (photo by John Fitzgerald)

• to try to understand what is going on with our membershhip, in terms of age distribution etc
• being confident about who we are and what we offer and being able to talk about it to others
• how to answer the question "I'm a Quaker [Unitarian] - ask me why" in language accessible to new people
• living up to what we say and believe - putting our faith into action
• how do people know we exist - how to raise visibility
• making sure that people can find us, and that they feel welcome when they do
• being vibrant, effective communities
• recognising the variety of ministries within the Quaker [Unitarian] community - acknowledging what gifts people bring and the service they offer

Like the Unitarians, Quakers are a minority faith in the United Kingdom, but have a wonderful and important message to share with many spiritual seekers who are looking for just such a faith. So dealing with these challenges is vital for our future.

Walking the Talk

[written during the Annual Meetings of the General Assembly of Unitarians & Free Christians]

Being at the Unitarian General Assembly Annual Meetings is a bit like living inside a bubble. For these few days, spent with 300 or so fellow Unitarians, I am immersed in matters Unitarian, morning, noon and night. Is this a good thing, or a bad thing?

On the good side, it is an annual opportunity for spiritual nourishment, and a chance to catch up with old friends, and perhaps make new ones. It is so good to spend time with like-minded people, talking and learning about things I care for passionately, and enjoying the deep cameraderie and fellowship that is GA at its best. The opportunity to worship in a large group is particularly rich.

And yet, and yet. In the world outside - the real world - anything may have happened. We are cocooned in our Unitarian bubble, and I have no computer, and hence no access to what is going on.

This year, for the first time, this worries  me. I feel as though we are perhaps too inward looking, maybe even a little self-obsessed, rather than being concerned with how we can make a positive difference to the world in which we live.

Maybe that is a bit unfair. Several of our motions, about which there were passionate debate, were very much concerned with that same outside world. And I have seen and heard some marvellous examples of Unitarian social action this week - Send A Child to Hucklow, the new social justice initiative in Bethnal Green - the list goes on. During these meetings, I have heard over and over again the wish that we might have a higher profile, so that our marvellous Unitarian message of welcome and inclusivity and spiritual & religious liberty could nourish the lives of other spiritual seekers.

I just hope that the people here (myself included) will take this to heart, and go back to our congregations and our lives inspired to spread the Unitarian message through our words and our actions, so that we may indeed become a force for good in our complicated 21st century world.

A Dormouse in Search of a Teapot

I am currently at Unitarian Summer School at the Nightingale Centre, our conference centre in Great Hucklow, in the Derbyshire Peak District. I am spending a week in the company of forty or so fellow Unitarians - both old friends and new - and having a marvellous time. The workshop I am attending is both stimulating and spiritually nourishing, and the optional activities in the afternoons and evenings likewise.

Even the weather (never predictable in this part of the world) is cooperating, and has been warm and sunny. Who could ask for more?

Then, last night, after a substantial and delicious dinner, during which I had a really interesting conversation with some dear friends, the balance shifted.

I don't know whether I've been trying to cram too much into this summer (OK, I'm lying, I know fine well that I have) but it is as though somebody has flicked a switch inside me, and suddenly I become like the dormouse in Alice in Wonderland, tiredly in search of a teapot. I crave solitude and sleep and time to creep away and re-group.

The Dormouse (from the Disney film Alice in Wonderland)

The temptation at these large Unitarian events, such as Summer School and our General Assembly annual meetings, is to participate in everything, because it is all so fascinating, and stimulating and nourishing, and I don't want to miss out on anything, and I love spending time with my fellow Unitarians.

And yet I know that for my body's sake (and my soul's), I need to balance this craving with a bit of downtime - some periods alone, to think, to meditate, to pray, perhaps just to take a deep breath and relax. We are complex organisms, and need to pay attention when our bodies crave rest. The alternative is over-stimulation and eventual burnout.

So, like the dormouse, I said good-night, and went in search of my teapot.

The Spice of Life

It was the 18th century poet and hymn writer William Cowper who wrote "Variety's the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavour." This has been brought home to me for the umpteenth time in the last 24 hours.

Yesterday afternoon and evening, I travelled up to Friargate Unitarian Chapel Derby for the last service of my student pastorate (which has been going on since last October). I've been running an engagement group called Building Beloved Community, and the half-dozen faithful attenders have entered wholeheartedly into the process; some wonderful deep sharing has taken place. During this last session, we all had a go at formulating a covenant for our congregations, which was both fascinating and challenging.

This was followed by the service at 6 pm. I was feeling kinda sad, because I have grown very fond of the Derby (and Mansfield and Hinckley) folk. I was just about to announce the last hymn when Elaine (Derby's Secretary) took the wind out of my sails completely by presenting me with a beautiful bunch of tulips and a book-token. I had been expecting nothing of the kind, and was totally blown away by their appreciation - it had been both a pleasure and a privilege to get to know them all and to serve them.

The journey back down the M1 in the rain went in a flash. I was riding on a tide of euphoria, feeling so very blessed and lucky. Drank a glass of wine and went to bed feeling very good.

Came downstairs this morning and went into the kitchen, or should I say bombsite? OK, I exaggerate slightly, it was only in its usual post-weekend mess - the dishwasher needed emptying; there was stuff all over the sides, and the floor needed sweeping. The bubble burst. I sighed and set to work, and in a few minutes, all was (relatively) pristine again (or at least clean and tidy enough to pass muster).

The thing that I find irritating (and am trying to rise above) is that it will all need doing again tonight, and tomorrow and tomorrow. Repetitive housework is seriously not my thing - it comes about number 576 on my list of priorities, and I'm pretty good at sitting at the computer surrounded by chaos, up to a certain point. Then it all gets to me, and I have to have a blitz. I envy people like my friend Ali, who seems to really enjoy housework, and whose house is always immaculate. But here's the thing: I'm not prepared to put in the work to make this possible, which must mean something. It's about finding a balance, I think.

So as I was standing with my arms up to the elbows in washing up, I consciously tried (again) to count my blessings - that I was able to use hot, soapy water to wash up with, which was available by simply turning on a tap; that I owned all these things that needed washing, so that meal preparation is an easy task; and yes, that variety is the very spice of life. Last night, the goodwill and connection I felt with the Unitarians at Derby was wonderful. But I couldn't live on those heights all the time - it is good to be brought back down to earth by a spot of domesticity.