All of Us Are Responsible

It is General Election week. Next Thursday, the population of the United Kingdom will be voting in its next government. 

I believe very strongly that we have a moral responsibility to stand up and be counted. The system of democracy which we have in this country may not be the best, the most effective, but it is what we have, and the right of everyone over the age of 18 to cast their vote is a precious one, which has only been in place in comparatively recent times. I did a bit of digging, and discovered that it was only in 1918, with the passing of the Representation of the People Act, that all men over the age of 21 and all women over the age of 30, were given the right to vote. That playing field was only levelled ten years later, in 1928. So, less than one hundred years ago.

And yet, the voter turn-out in the 2019 General Election was only 67.3%... in other words, nearly one-third of the UK’s eligible voters decided not to bother. I find this baffling – why wouldn’t you? Even if you have little (or no) faith that your vote will make a difference (for example, if you live in a “safe seat” constituency long held by the party you disagree with); if you are disillusioned with the current system (and honestly, why wouldn’t you be?); or if you genuinely can’t make up your mind between rival candidates; you should Still Vote. Even if you choose to spoil your paper, as my father did once, scrawling “A plague on both your houses” across it, you are still exercising your democratic right to vote and that vote will still be counted.

Voting is about caring what happens in our society. We may “vote with our feet”, as the popular saying goes, by choosing any number of ways to make our opinions known. As Unitarian minister Cliff Reed once wrote, “This means, for some, active involvement in campaigns, marches, and demonstrations. It may mean lobbying politicians and making legislators aware of Unitarian concerns in particular areas of policy. It means using one’s democratic rights responsibly and purposefully for the common good. It means focusing on political and social issues in worship in order to explore their spiritual implications.”

What I’m saying is, that as conscious human beings, we are in a unique position to influence the world around us. In fact, we have a responsibility to do so – to strive to make a positive difference, so that we leave our society, our planet, in a better state than we found them. What we do, or don’t do, matters, at a fundamental level. It is in our power as human beings to answer the prayers of the struggling and grieving world – to feed the hungry, heal the sick, look after the marginalised, strike against oppression, care for our planet. Or not.

 We Are Responsible.

And even if the vote on Thursday doesn’t go the way we hope, we are *still* responsible. It is no good if we simply shrug our shoulders at a policy we don’t agree with, saying “Well, I didn’t vote for them.” I believe that as responsible human beings, who care about the future of the Earth and its myriad inhabitants, we need to stand up and be counted. We need to be active, not passive. And I believe that is a spiritual position, as well as a political one.

We are all responsible for making up our own minds about the social and ethical issues of the day. And the tools we have to do this are our hearts, our minds, and our souls. We may discuss our decisions with others, but ultimately, only we can decide, as individuals.

May we at least decide to exercise our democratic rights, and vote on Thursday. Because each of us is responsible for the outcome, one way or another. 

 

At Midsummer

I love this time of year - the long days, the blue skies, the sunny weather. (Apologies to any readers who are suffering under less clement circumstances!). Today is Midsummer Day, and the photo below is of St John's Wort in a neighbour's garden, a true representative of the season.

Perhaps it is difficult for us to truly understand how important this time of year was to our ancient ancestors, living as we do in a world in which (if we have the money) we can buy any vegetable, any fruit throughout the year. As Unitarian author Cliff Reed, wrote, “We live too far apart from the turning seasons, / the earth’s rhythm and nature’s lessons. / We forget our dependence on the plenty / that we take for granted – few of us plant the seeds, / watch growth and ripening, reap the harvest.” 

But in those times, the ancients celebrated the time of the triumph of the light with great bonfires, when the whole community would gather on the hilltops to celebrate life through feasting, dance, ritual and song, rejoicing in the sun at the height of its power. And perhaps also to pray that it would not decline too soon, because a poor summer meant a poor harvest, which in turn could lead to starvation in the long cold winter months. And yet, the urge to celebrate the middle of summer still lingers. 

When I was a small child at primary school, we learned that beautiful Middle English round, Sumer is icumen in. Walking through the woods this morning, I found myself singing the first few lines: 

“Sumer is icumen in 

Lhude sing cuccu 

Groweth seed and bloweth mead 

and spring the woods anew. 

Sing cuccu!

Ewe now bleateth after lamb 

Loweth after calf the cu.” 

Because it summed up how I was feeling. For the past few days, I have been entranced by the sound of a cuckoo in Salcey Forest. I walk in there most mornings of the year. We are so very blessed to live where we do, five minutes' walk from the edge of the Forest. At the time I went out – at seven in the morning – I had the place pretty much to myself, apart from the birds, who were filling the air with their song, and I was filled with wonder at the beauties of God's creation. The cow parsley still lines the path, its heady scent filling my nostrils, and there are dandelions and buttercups, pink and white clover, cow parsley, elderflower, and many waving grasses, as well as the ubiquitous nettles. Also some gorgeous pink and white wild roses. And of course, the trees themselves. Too many shades of green to name. Glory, glory, glory!

#feelingblessed

To Have the Truth

This week's quotation is from Liji, also known as The Book of Rites, one of the five classics of the traditional Confucian canon. It reads, "To have the truth is the way of heaven, to seek is the way of man."

I'm not sure I agree... I'm not convinced that it is possible for anyone to "have the truth", if having the truth means being 100% certain that what we believe is right and true at all times. As I wrote back in February, "Truth (somewhat ironically) is a slippery word, with various shades of meaning."

I know that for the adherents of some religious / faith traditions, it is an essential part of being a Christian / Muslim / whatever, to accept certain truths as absolute. For example, most Christians believe that Jesus is the Divine Son of God, second Person of the Trinity, whose death on the cross brought humankind back into right relationship with God the Father. They would argue that if someone doesn't believe that, they cannot call themselves a Christian. If you "have" that truth, you are a Christian, if you don't, you're not. Simple as that. 

Whereas, for people like Unitarians, truth has a far more nebulous quality. We seek it, for sure, but, as I wrote in February, "we are open to discovering new truths, which may (indeed, should) influence our beliefs and behaviour... Our whole lives are a quest for truth, which we must uncover / discover step by step."

If this is the "way of man", then I am happy to follow it. It is more difficult than resting on "inalienable" truths, but I believe it can be far more rewarding. It means being "open to new Light", as the Quakers would say: new truths which can illuminate our lives and change them for the better. The tricky part is letting go of long-held "truths" which we come to understand are false, in the light of new knowledge and experiences. It takes a certain amount of spiritual gumption to do this, and to keep on doing it, over and over again. Yet if we are to grow into our best selves, I believe it is necessary.

How We Experience Life

Anton Wilhelm Amo was a Nzema philosopher who lived in the first half of the 18th century. He was brought to Germany from Axim (Dutch Gold Coast, now Ghana) at the age of four and, according to Wikipedia, "presented as a gift to Dukes Augustus Wilhelm and Ludwig Rudolf of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, being treated as a member of the family by their father, Anthony Ulrich."

He became a doctor of philosopy at Wittenberg University in 1734 and his thesis, On the Absence of Sensation in the Human Mind and its Presence in our Organic and Living Body, from which I suspect this week's quotation came, "argued in favour of a broadly dualist approach of the person. Specifically, he argues that it is correct to talk of a mind and a body, but that it is the body rather than the mind that perceives and feels."

The specific quote reads, "The person does not sense material things from his soul, but from his living, organic body." 

Yes, I agree, up to a point. It is through our five senses, sight, hearing, smell, touch and taste, that we access the material world. As I have written before, "I am so grateful for eyes to see, ears to hear, a nose to smell, a mouth to taste, skin to touch." Yet I also believe that our heart and soul are necessary to fully interpret what our senses bring to our attention. It is our senses which bring the glory of Creation into our experience, and our hearts and souls which enable us to be ready to receive and appreciate it.

If I stand outside in front of a tree, for example, I can see the beauty of its trunk and branches and leaves; I can hear the sound of the wind blowing through and around it, of birds singing in its branches; I can smell (almost) the greenness of its leaves, the sap flowing through its heart; and I can touch the smoothness of the leaves, the velvety furriness of new rhus branches, or the roughness of an oak's bark. All these are accessible to my "living organic body", as Amo says. 

Yet it is my heart and soul that glory in their beauty, that rise in appreciation of their wonder. My senses enable, my heart and soul interpret. That's as close as I can get to the duality which Amo speaks of, and which I think is not quite what he meant by it...

Small Pleasures

More than a decade ago, I came across a blog called Three Beautiful Things by a woman called Clare Law. It has the tagline "Every day I want to record three things that have given me pleasure." I blogged about it here. I have been grateful to her ever since, for introducing me to the wonderfully nourishing spiritual practice of gratitude, which I have blogged about many times.

These days, I record what I call 'Small Pleasures' each evening before I go to bed. Sometimes, they are HUGE, such as the joy which flooded my heart when I saw my son cradling his newborn son in his arms last November, but generally they are less spectacular.

The photos above are from our holiday last week in mid-Wales with my dear husband, my son and his family, and my daughter and her fiancé. It was a week of love and relaxation and fun, with so many small (and HUGE) pleasures, such as:

• finding another pair of lovely earrings at the market stall in Barmouth.
• S paddling in the sea at Benar Beach.
• all of us visiting Dolgoch Falls (my spiritual home) together.
• finding S's lost tooth in a puddle, so that he could put it under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy.
• playing Articulate! with my daughter and her fiancé.
  
• eating all together.
• having a go on a swing and flying high!
• completing the Nana's Hug blanket for my daughter's unborn son.

The trick of gratitude, I have found, is sacred living - weaving moments of attention into our lives, so that we are aware of all the lovely things happening around us. As I have written before, "Through sacred living, we will come to realise that God's grace is everywhere. Sacred living is about living with a new level of awareness. It is about going through our days paying attention to what is happening at 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. Sacred living is about truly appreciating what we have."

I have found over time that actively keeping a record of the many small pleasures in my life has exponentially increased my general level of happiness. Even when I've had a fairly crappy day, I can still be grateful for having got through it.... And on less good days, I sometimes read back through old 'Small Pleasures' to remind myself how very lucky and blessed I am.

Why not give it a try?

How Important is 'Right Belief'?

In the sixteen years I have served the Midland Unitarian Association, I have travelled many thousands of miles. I have criss-crossed the District in my car, visiting congregations and individuals, and attending meetings (this last far less often since 2020, when we all discovered Zoom!). And during my Presidential year, I drove even greater distances, all around England and into South Wales.

And my favourite way of beguiling the time is to listen; either to music, or to one of the Teaching Company's Great Courses. Over the years, I have built up a fine collection of the latter, owning most of their Religion and Theology and Writing courses. I've listened to all of them at least once, and to some of them repeatedly. Each course comprises between 12 and 36 half-hour lectures, the most common length being 24.

In recent weeks, I have been listening to one of my favourites, The History of Christian Theology, a comprehensive and erudite 36-lecture course, taught by Professor Philip Cary. He has the ability to explain the most intricate and abstruse aspects of Christian belief and doctrine with great clarity and objectivity. It has been a real education to listen to him explain the intricate ins and outs of complicated Christian doctrines like the Trinity, Incarnation and Grace. Because even before the Great Schism of 1054 or the Protestant Reformation of the early 16th century, there was still plenty of opportunity for debate, and fierce dissension within the so-called "Catholic" church (Catholic means 'universal').

The lectures cover the whole history and evolution of Christian theology, from the earliest days right up to the present - or at least, up to 2008, when the course was written. And the thing which has fascinated me the most is the central importance of orthodoxy "right belief" to Christians. Over the centuries, there have been endless arguments and fierce divisions over the minutiae of nuances in Christian beliefs and doctrine. Right from the mid-1st century CE, when Paul spent much of his time earnestly writing to his scattered flock about what they *ought* to believe. And getting exasperated when they didn't get it. For example, in the first chapter of his First Letter to the Corinthians, he writes, "I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought."

Professor Cary explains in his first lecture, "Christian theology is a tradition of critical reasoning about Christian doctrine, that is, about what should be taught in church about Jesus Christ and life in him. Christian theology focuses on doctrine rather than law, because Christianity is a faith more than a way of life, so the question of what people should be taught to believe is of the essence. Unlike other religions, Christianity is essentially a faith because it is not fundamentally about how to live but about the life of another person, Jesus Christ... In Christian theology, even the crucial theme of Jesus's own teaching, the Kingdom of God, is subordinated to teaching about who Jesus is - the Christ, which means the king in the Kingdom of God."

The consequences of differing beliefs between various factions have, on occasions, been world-changing. Heretics have been variously excommunicated, burned at the stake, or shunned, for  theological disagreements over what I as a Unitarian (so probably an arch-heretic) see as almost frivolously minute differences in theology. In the mid-eleventh century, for example, the Great Schism between the Eastern Orthodox and Catholic churches happened on account of a single Latin word, filioque. As Professor Cary explains, this means "and of the Son" and is "from a clause in the Western version of the Nicene Creed saying that the Holy Spirit 'proceeds from the Father and the Son'. This doctrine of 'double procession' is rejected by the Eastern Orthodox and became the cause of the schism between the Eastern and Western churches in 1054, resulting in the formal separation of Eastern Orthodox from Roman Catholic." Okay, there was probably more to it than that, and the filioque issue was probably the "straw that broke the camel's back", but really?

Perhaps the most well-known and far-reaching example was, of course, Martin Luther, who famously nailed his 95 Theses to the door of Wittenberg Cathedral in October 1517. As Professor Cary explains, "He criticised the sale of indulgences because they detracted from true inward penance of the heart.... These criticisms were meant as an invitation for disputation." Luther originally had no idea of leading a secession from the Catholic Church - he was both a monk and a theology professor. Yet the upshot of his act was the Protestant Reformation. In the 500 years since then, countless denominations have sprung up, each convinced of the unique "rightness" of their own particular brand of Christianity.

So much bitter argument. So much self-righteous justification. So much persecution of those who did not / do not share your beliefs. So much willingness to pronounce that anyone who does not believe exactly as you do is bound for eternal damnation in the fires of Hell.

I cannot help wondering what Jesus, that first century Jewish rabbi, would have made of it all... The man who allegedly told his followers: 

"Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat, do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you. 

    If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

    Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven; give and it will be given to you."(Luke 6:27-38)

The difference between these teachings of Jesus and Christian theology are striking. Arguments over what to outsiders seem to be minor nuances in Christian doctrine have, over the centuries, involved thousands of people and whole countries (sometimes even the entire continent of Europe) in war and persecution and terror.

Even my own denomination, Unitarianism, which is supposed to be inclusive and tolerant and welcoming of people with diverse beliefs, has its factions and its politics; its bitter arguments and its disagreements...

I find it baffling. For me, right behaviour, such as Jesus tells us to do, trumps right belief every time...

  

The Power of Lies

"The more successfully someone lies, and the more people he convinces, the more chance he will end up believing in his own lies." These are the words of Hannah Arendt, who, according to Wikipedia,  was "a German-American historian and philosopher... one of the most influential political theorists of the 20th century." 

She died in 1975, not long after the Watergate scandal in the US. I cannot help wondering what she would have thought of the political scene today, not only in the US, but also over here. Because I can think of two particular blond-haired politicians, about whom her words are prescient...

According to my Concise Oxford Dictionary, the meaning of the word "politics" is "the science and art of government" and a "politician" is defined as "One skilled in politics, statesman; one interested or engaged in politics, esp. as profession." 

When I was a small child, sixty years ago, it seemed that most politicians were in politics for what they could give, not only for what they could get. They were required to have certain ethical standards, and if scandal attached to them, they were expected to resign. And I am sure that this is still true of some politicians - certainly a lot of good work gets done by House of Lords and House of Commons committees.

Yet sadly, it is a long time since I have trusted the word of most politicians. Many today, it seems, believe their own lies wholeheartedly. Take the climate change crisis as an example: the Paris Agreement was signed by most nations of the world in 2015 and yet, nine years later, we are little closer to doing anything much to mitigate the effects of our polluting, wasteful ways.

It can be hard to believe in the goodness of people sometimes, when so much evil is being done in our names. And when it seems we have little power or influence over the people who are supposed to be running the country "for us". I guess the least that any of us can do is to stand in our own integrity, stand up against the lies that many politicians tell, actively campaign for change, and try to make a positive difference in our own small corners of the world.