Rev. Kendyl Gibbons
First Unitarian Society of Minneapolis
November 10, 2002
The Authentic Community
First of all, let's get one thing straight; this is not the end of the world. Some folks are here today suffering a profound sense of disappointment and frustration and even fear over the outcome of Tuesday's elections. I own to some share of that myself. But rarely are these kinds of crises as bad in reality as our imaginations like to paint them. Remember the king who asked the great philosophers of his renowned academy to inscribe all the wisdom he needed in order to govern rightly within the circumference of a ring that he could wear always? What did the ring say? "This, too, shall pass."
At this moment, it seems to me that we need to do two very important things. One, we need to reaffirm, even now when it may be most difficult, our genuine faith in democracy. We need to acknowledge that, comforting though the thought may be, it is probably not the case that the majority of our fellow citizens are all selfish, thoughtless, heartless, ignorant dupes of slick media, manipulative politicians, and manufactured fear. If we are going to say to the world, and teach our children, that we believe in the democratic process, then that means that we have an obligation to respect the expression of collective opinion, even when we may not agree with it. And this includes the recognition that there are people within this congregation whose reason, experience, compassion and best judgment lead them to satisfaction with some or all of the recent election results. If we are to honor diversity and individual dignity as we claim to do, these people should not be coming to me, as more than one of them has done already, in pain about how they and their views are treated within their own religious community. If there is value to us in understanding how a Muslim woman in Afghanistan thinks; if I have something to learn from my sixteen year old neighbor with blue hair and a pierced tongue, then it is also quite likely that there is something I need to hear from a Norm Coleman supporter as well. And I know of no political situation that has ever been improved by the practice of mutual demonization. Let those of us who would have wished it otherwise at least aspire to an attitude of curiosity and humility for the near future - it will become us far better in the long run than arrogant and offended righteousness.
The second important thing that we need to do now is to redouble our vigilance and commitment to those values we have always believed in. The leaders and representatives just elected are now our leaders and representatives; let us keep them informed of our concerns, and hold them accountable for their leadership. Let us be quick to praise their dedication and congratulate their wisdom whenever we see it displayed, and let us be reluctant to drag matters of purely personal pain into the public spotlight. But let us expect and demand from them that they exercise the power that has been conferred upon them for the public good as best we may come to understand what that is. We need not canonize the dead - St. Paul is a city, not a senator - but if we have learned from past example the qualities of integrity and statesmanship, we can call for those same qualities to inform the work of those who now take up the mantles of leadership for our shared future.
It is worth asking about those who would offer us their leadership and ask for our loyalty, what church they really go to. I don't mean the building they frequent or the institution they support, but rather the philosophy that guides them, as indicated by their ideas and their actions. This is a question we might ask about anyone; we might even ask it about ourselves. I know of several very popular churches that have no street address, and no meeting times, but they have many devoted followers. There is, for instance, the church of public opinion, which practices unhesitating obedience to every popular notion and fad; the latest polls are its gospel, and the spin masters are its priests. I have also encountered many members of the church of perpetual indignation; these folks are constantly angry with the world, and feel that somebody owes them for the way life has treated them. Their creed is, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore," even though they have often experienced less genuine suffering than a lot of other people. There is the church of blameless misfortune, whose adherents tumble from one unhappy mess to another in their lives, always believing that it was all someone else's fault, and proclaiming their own powerlessness. There is the church of instant gratification, whose dogmas are impulse and sensation, whose sacraments are sensory pleasure and adrenaline rush. There is, of course, always the church of insatiable power and prestige, which commands its members to gain control of everything and everyone in their lives; money is its idol, but no one has ever reached salvation in its terms. Even so, it always has a crowd of eager applicants. It also has a spin-off, in the church of being right about everything; members of this congregation may not control their world, but they are smarter than everybody else, their opinions and judgments are the only reasonable ones, and they know all the answers. All of these congregations are easy to join, and they are comfortably filled with like-minded people. They don't tolerate diversity of thought, however, and they certainly never reach out past their own familiar ideas and practices to minister to anyone else.
This morning, as we pursue our conversation with Mike Durall, our congregational consultant for the study of identity and stewardship planning in which we have agreed to participate, I would like to inform that process with some thinking about contemporary religious community from the mega-church movement. It has been claimed, and several scholars in the field have agreed, that the only congregations that are going to be viable by the end of this century are those which are now very large, and very small. The small congregations will survive through their family and personal friendship networks, as one-celled organizations that will not be able to afford much either in the way of a building or paid professional ministry. The very large congregations will thrive through their ability to offer great diversity of opportunities for ministry and service by their participants. Mid-size congregations, that did not embrace the stresses of growth, but wanted to maintain their real estate and their paid staff, will find it increasingly difficult and ultimately impossible to make ends meet, either financially or in volunteer energy. This is a cultural and demographic trend, which applies regardless of theological orientation, and regardless of how well those mid-size congregations are run. It is premised on the observation that fewer and fewer people find personal energy and satisfaction in the labor of institutional church management. Most of us do not join religious communities because we have an insatiable appetite for committee meetings! We join churches, I believe, for two connected reasons; we want the world to be different, and we want our lives to be different. And the congregations that are thriving, and will be thriving fifty and a hundred years from now, recognize this. They know that the first responsibility of a religious community is to give people ways to make a difference in the world - because it is quite impossible to be a person who changes the world, without being changed by that experience yourself.
Now I want to be very clear that this is not just talking about 'social action' as Unitarian Universalists have been accustomed to understand that phrase. It is talking about a larger concept, that may include specific work with issues of political and social justice, but is properly understood as a bigger proposition, namely ministry. Not all of us are cut out to be social activists, but the claim is that all of us, in one form or another, can be and should be ministers. Some analysts talk about this concept as 'abolishing the laity'. Ministry in this sense is a very broad concept; educating children is ministry; feeding the hungry is ministry; cleaning up the trash in a park is ministry; making tea with a lonely older person is ministry; designing solar ovens for fuel-scarce countries is ministry; leading people in song is ministry; protesting war is also ministry, of course - anything that takes your passion and your gifts and makes them fruitful in service to the wider world. Most of us do not need to be convinced that the world of our lifetimes is filled with hurt and injustice; indeed, how often do we turn away, unable to bear any more news, any more images, any more awareness of suffering? We seldom question the need; what we all too often question is our own ability to do anything meaningful in response. We are cautious of our own comfort, doubtful of our capacity for risk, uncertain that anything we can do would actually make any difference. Well, that is where the community of faith comes in. The church should be a place where we can come with the brokenness of our own lives, and with the horrors of the world around us, and be helped to find a path toward wholeness.
Once upon a time, theologians used to talk about the brokenness of peoples' lives, their fears and frustrations and failures, with the word 'sin'. Then that word got connected with guilt and judgment and self-righteousness, and it ceased to be useful to anyone except as a blunt object to beat each other up with, so most of us stopped using it. But that didn't mean that the suffering of the world or the brokenness of lives went away; they aren't the kind of things that go away because you stop talking about them. Today we speak more easily about the addictions of our current culture; not only the traditional addictions to mind-bending chemicals like opiates or alcohol, but all the attempted escapes and dead ends by which we try to avoid growing up, and evade the genuine demands of life and the claims of others upon us. We are addicted to achievement, to consumption, to money and power, to a fast pace and instant gratification, to constant noise and stimulation, to infinite choices, to comfort and self-indulgence and entertainment - you know the list. Call them addictions, or sins, or whatever you want; the result is the same. Our lives are disjointed, lacking the peace, the purpose, the integrity, that we would give much to find. We may be rich in things, but not so rich in love, joy, and satisfaction; the pace and complexity often feels unsustainable. And despite all the resources at our disposal, we feel powerless to heal the hurt of the world around us.
Into this vortex of confusion and pain, the religious community must lift up a testimony to the possibility of transformation. This Society, if it is to be true to its mission, must bear witness to the reality of another way to live, in this community and in this world. We must not only say, and believe, we must also demonstrate, that meaning and purpose and freedom, satisfaction and connection, integrity and sustainability and peace have become available to us through our participation in this covenant body. Many people will say that this new way of being for them had its roots in a transforming relationship with Jesus, or an encounter with God. I have little interest in arguing with them; if that is the vocabulary that describes their experience as they understand it, let be. But here is what I do have; I do have an interest in the assertion that Jesus and God are not the only way of describing or accessing that new possibility. I want to make and prove the claim that the Humanist message of intellectual honesty, personal responsibility and mutual compassion, rightly understood and practiced, has the same power to transform lives - nay, a greater power even. For if that is not true - dearly beloved, if we don't have a message of that kind of hope for people - then what right have we to stand in the way of those who do? Because people are transformed in religious community; it happens all the time. The lost find a path, and the guidance of friends; the broken find healing and new dignity; the hungry find sustenance and the weary, hope; the frightened discover their inner strength, and receive encouragement. I don't believe it has anything to do with God or Jesus, but I do believe it happens. I believe that it happens because of what human beings are and can be; I believe it happens because we call it forth in one another, because when we risk ourselves in connection and in service, we enlarge something within ourselves that is wiser than knowledge and stronger than sentiment and more abiding than all our addictions - and that is what authentic religious community is for.
Those of us who continue to cherish the memory of Paul Wellstone recall his use of a phrase from Gandhi; "be the change you believe in." Don't wait until you have persuaded everybody to agree with you; don't wait for your favorite candidate to be elected. You live out of your conviction, right now, and change the world by that increment. Being the change you believe in is ministry; it is giving our ideals hands and feet and voices amid the dust and din of the world's great needs. It is also integrity and authenticity; demonstrating our convictions with action, not just explanation. You would think it would be simple, but the truth is that it is very hard work - and that is why we need religious communities. We need the companionship, the encouragement, the witness of possibility when we falter - and we need to be the companionship, and the encouragement, and the witness to others, and thus our victories are not ours alone, but light the path for those who follow. Ship wrecked lives are all around us, and the tide is rising. If you have been there yourself, then you have a valuable gift to offer others; our ministries often lie in the valleys of our own tribulations. You can be a witness and a guide, a beacon of survival that keeps another floundering soul afloat. And what if you yourself have been lucky, and sailed in calmer waters with no ship wreck of your own? Why, then it is to be hoped that you can spare some time and energy and resources out of that good fortune, to share with those whose vessels have foundered on the rocks that you passed safely by. Either way, the function of the religious community is not to make us comfortable in our ideas and convictions, but to make our ideas and convictions fruitful in the world - not only because our ministries are needed, but also because it is in the healing of the world that our own lives are made complete.
We humanists have a saving message for the world, and we must be the change we believe in. It is a message that the transformation of our lives depends upon reason, imagination, compassion, and justice, not upon the personality of a long-dead teacher or the authority of those who have made an idol of his name. This Society can be a shaping force in releasing the ministry of transformed, empowered people into this city, if we choose to pursue that risky and ever-changing work as the foundation of our authentic community. This will require of us creativity and trust, generosity and mutual encouragement. We will need to sing songs, and dream dreams with one another; we will need to walk in the rain together, and come to know each others' minds - and hearts, and hopes as well. We will need to bring hope to one another, in those times when hope is hard to find; to tell again the stories of how our lives have been changed by the ministries we do to heal the world. Let this be our song of love to the human family and our home, the earth, and we shall find roses of joy along our journey - meaning, and deep connections, and peace - even in the winter of our lives, in every season.
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Opening Words:
Welcome to this place of re-connection and renewal;
Welcome to this returning hour, set aside from the urgencies of the world and life's demands,
Dedicated to the pondering of purpose, and to reflection on that which is timeless.
Welcome, after this week of intense feeling and weighty choices,
On this day dedicated to the memory of heroism and sacrifice.
Today we must know ourselves as the heirs of a precious legacy;
How many times, in the two and a quarter centuries of our nation's history,
Have young men, urgent to live, laid down their lives
That we might dwell today in safety and freedom?
Let us consider, in this morning's daylight, that we owe to our veterans a three-fold debt.
First, we owe them our memory; let their sacrifices not be forgotten,
But kept in sad remembrance and enduring honor.
Second, we owe them our vigilance, that the freedom they gave themselves to preserve
May not be lightly held, nor surrendered by our cowardice to oppression in the name of patriotism.
Third, we owe them our pledge, that we shall do better by future generations,
And have the wisdom not to swell their tragic ranks with the bodies of their sons and grandsons,
Whose bright future they died to secure.
Today, we must know ourselves as the authors of an uncertain future;
Citizens of a world that grows ever smaller and more tightly interwoven,
Ever more in need of mutual understanding, and compassion, and the capacity for shared wonder.
This morning we honor the young people of this community,
as they claim their place in our covenant,
And become guardians of the light that is our heritage to them and to all who will come after us.
In this hour of centering and celebration, may we lift up our spirits,
And claim once again the faithful flame that is the light of truth, the warmth of kinship,
And the fire of commitment, carried in our hearts wherever we go.
Together now, may we be comforted, strengthened and inspired,
And may that flame so shine in our lives, as to illuminate the world.