Chalice Lighting:
Unless you call out, who will open the door? - Ethiopian Proverb
Sermon:
“I do not ask for this faith because I shrink from paying the great debt of nature. But I ask for it that I may have respect for myself
—that I may feel life is worth living—
that good is worth striving for above and beyond its mere return of earth.
And above all else, I ask for that faith because it makes life grand,
and gives to us sublime possibilities. And further,
it gives a substance of joy and bliss which nothing earthly ever gave,
and which nothing of earth can take away.”
-Eunice Waite Cobb
Eunice Waite Cobb was a 19th century Universalist.
I chose this quote from her for this morning because I think it invites us into some bit of discomfort, and self-reflection.
Mrs. Cobb does not take her faith as the default position, as the lowest common denominator, as the easy thing. She challenges herself, and her reader, to strive, to work for their beliefs. And she also lays out an expected reward for her labor. Her life will be made grand by her faith, and a joy that nothing on earth can give or take away will be hers.
We rarely make statements of faith like this anymore.
And I fear that it’s starting to show.
Recently I was in an interview for a Chaplain Residency and one of the interviewers, a Jewish pastoral care person, said to me “I know that Unitarian Universalists have difficulty with theology and God. How do you deal with this problem? To whom do you turn when you need help?”
When the co-interviewer behind the desk, an American Baptist, nodded his head in agreement, I was a little embarrassed. He then asked me: “Do you pray?”
This? This is our reputation among our clergy colleagues?
While working through an answer, I was able to articulate the following:
“I desire from Divinity not salvation, but a companion on the Journey of Life. I don’t need to be saved by a Loving God, I need to be reminded to be radically loving.”
My faith is not about accepting the easiest answer, a relativistic stance of believing in all things and no things at once. Like Eunice Cobb, I embrace this faith for both its work and our promise of a life made better by that work….and by something unstated above: grace.
As Unitarian Universalists, I’ve noticed that we don’t speak much about things like grace, do we? We like to think of ourselves as being the directors of our own success and happiness. I’m comfortable in that theology. If I work hard and am a good person, my life will have meaning and that shall be my reward.
Except there are a lot of people who work hard who don’t get the same sorts of benefits that I’ve gotten. That we’ve gotten.
Like the actions of the three goddesses called the Graces in Ancient Greece, we can’t see what life offers us. Sometimes we get more than we deserve and sometimes less, seemingly at random, out of our control. I prefer to think of grace as a gift, a generosity from what many may call God.
Perhaps if we engage our faith more strongly, having greater intent with that Unknown Component of Grace we might be more willing to see our fellow humans with greater charity in our hearts. We might be less ready to pathologize them, and have a ready-made solution to their problems.
I’m not suggesting that this pathologizing is born from a place of cruelty. Part of human development is learning to categorize things. Ask any toddler who’s just learning to talk, and you’ll find out that what’s known as a dog to them might be a dog, or a kitten, or a cow. Eventually that child will be able to discern patterns and realize that a dog is only one of many four-legged creatures with whom we share our world.
But also as we grow, we begin to lump things and people into categories, and unless we’re careful, we may over look important details which distinguish one thing from another. We might mistake a white youngster with dreads for a homeless person, or one young person of color as a member of the Hotel staff.
There are others who have worked as hard, if not harder, than we have, who will likely never see the benefits we have now.
This has been a hard realization for me. My parents are laborers. I was a laborer for most of my working career to date. But that’s all changing for me, and I now find myself in a different part of the map. My employability is no longer about how many words a minute I can type, or how much I can lift, or how many tables I can serve effectively.
And suddenly I find myself the guy who doesn’t operate the copy machine or take out the trash from the church office, because that’s no longer “required” of me. It’s no longer in my job description. I’m not blind, however, to the reality that there are going to be times when I am typing, making copies, answering phones and yes, even taking out the trash.
Yes, I worked hard to get here, and I’m pretty sure we’ve all worked hard.
But what about grace? What part does grace play in our successes? Why do we tend to omit grace from our own reflections, not as individuals, but as a whole faith?
Is it because to focus on grace would cause us to focus on the things we can’t control? That which will not respond solely to labor and reason; the things that our sheer force of will, and planning have seemingly no effect on? Is it because to focus on grace would cause us to focus on the other-worldly?
I have heard over and over that Unitarian Universalism doesn’t deal well with tragedy, loss and the more difficult sides of life. Focusing on grace more often might help us to do that.
Once we know in our bones, and can admit freely, that we are not in complete control of our lives, we can begin to really know that others are not as well. Hopefully, we can then move away from a patrician model of charity and into real relationships with the people who aren’t as fortunate as we and from whom we can learn a lot about being in the world.
We are not bad people, and I hope you won’t think for a moment that I’m suggesting that we don’t try to make the world a better place.
I do, however, think with grace as our focus, we could approach our justice work from a different position. One where we continue to recognize that the Spirit is loving and by seeking the companionship of the Divine, we may become as radically loving as our best selves hope to be.
May we be so bold.
