Reverend Dr. Marilyn Sewell

First Unitarian Church
Portland, Oregon

September 15, 1996

"This is the true joy in life--that of being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. . . . . I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die. . . . . I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It's a sort of splendid torch which I've got to hold up for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations."
--George Bernard Shaw

I read a story recently about a Unitarian Universalist who found herself in a restaurant one Sunday, a small establishment with tables close together, so she could not help but overhear the talk at a nearby table. Two people were talking about their unhappiness with the church they attended, and were speculating about where else they might attend. One of them asked, "Well, what about the Unitarians? What do they believe in?" Without a pause, the other said, "Recycling!"

We are known for our acting in the world. And I'm glad that's the sense people have of us. When I do orientations for prospective new members, I am struck that there are two reasons people give over and over again, as to why they've come to our church. First they say, "I want to grow spiritually," and second, "I want to be a part of a church that cares about social justice, that wants to make a difference in the community." I'm pleased that people are seeing these two themes in this church, because I think that is what I hope our church is all about--our own spiritual deepening and our caring action in the world.

Furthermore, I believe that these two ends are inevitably and absolutely joined to each other in a kind of circle of growing and giving. In other words, in a church you really can't have one without the other. But wait a minute--surely we can care without being political. Surely we can be good people without the burden of civic life. Well, can we? I don't think so. Because after all, what is politics about? It is about how we order our lives together. It is about power. It is about resources--financial resources and the resources of this planet: oil and timber and water and soil and air. In theological terms, it is about ultimate questions like, "Am I my brother's keeper?" and "What is the purpose of my life?" It is about compassion, it is about justice. Insofar as we are interested in these issues, we must be interested in politics.

There are people who disagree with me about this. There are folks who do not want to dirty their hands with politics--they are just too pure and ethereal. But perhaps in reality they are essentially cynics who reject their own deepest longings, in order to feel safe from the pain. To them, the spiritual life is an escape from life. There are others who feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the problems we face as a democracy, and since they can't save the whole world, they have decided not to save any little piece of it. Again, a kind of purist attitude. I can't do it all, so I'll do nothing. And there are still others who are entirely caught up in their own personal development. They spend a lot of time going to self-help groups and reading books about self-improvement. For them, spiritual development is tantamount to overcoming the effects of a bad childhood. But when they at last evolve to a "perfect self" (as if that were possible!)--when they have forgiven their parents and have arrived at the perfect weight and have found the lover of their dreams, then what? Can they live at peace in a world that is violent and conflicted and unjust?

I know all these excuses. I've indulged in every one of them. And I'm here to tell you today that they don't work. If you really want to grow spiritually, as a number of you say you do, you'll need at some point to involve yourself in the pain of the world, and you'll need to contribute in your own way to the redemption of that pain.

It appears easy enough for many of us to think of our religious lives and our political lives as two separate and fundamentally different realms. I'm reminded of a telephone call that I got a few weeks ago from one of my relatives who is a deeply religious fundamentalist Christian. He said, "God has blessed us. He sent us an Hispanic woman who will clean our house and also teach the children Spanish--and she's willing to work for minimum wage." Does he really think that God--whoever, whatever God is--wants him and his wife to exploit this woman? That God is somehow blessing this arrangement? That God is running some kind of celestial Temp Agency in the Sky?

But are we Unitarian Universalists always politically conscious ourselves? There are these awkward contradictions, you see, when we work to preserve our own advantage--a tax law that benefits us, for example--and yet our religious values call for us to be a justice-seeking people, and we know that that same tax may be a regressive tax and may penalize the poor. Then we just want to separate prayer and politics. But they will not be separated. Our deepest values just keep coming back to haunt us, and if our own bottom line is not financial, but moral, then we will feel disquieted and uneasy.

This is not to say that the culture itself gives us much help with these matters--in fact, one might ask, to what extent is post-modern corporate capitalism capable of compassion? Are the terms capitalism and compassion mutually exclusive? When I taught in England some years ago, I tried out an interesting experiment with my students. I was assigned to teach religion and economics--never mind that I was an English major. Since I had no formal training in either discipline, I had to "wing it." Cleverly, I decided to combine the two subjects in one assignment. I told my 24 students to go out and interview business owners in Liverpool and ask them a single question, "Can you be a Christian and a successful businessman?" And can you guess how many of them came back with a "yes" answer? One. One out of 24. I wonder if it's any better now, twenty-five years later, in corporate America.

The rationale for many of the excesses and injustices in the business world today--for treating workers as expendable, for lack of health care, for the exploitation of third-world workers, for companies that market poisonous cigarettes to teenagers--the rationale is that "we have to be competitive. . . we owe it to our stockholders." Competitive at what cost? At what human cost? And at what cost to the soul and spirit of those who do the exploiting? At what cost spiritually to those of who buy the $100 tennis shoes that some teenage girl in Indonesia was paid 15 cents an hour to produce? At what cost to those of us whose stock portfolios grow fat from investments with these companies? What part does politics play in all of this?

Politics is about power and resources--and therefore is about people, real flesh and blood people, not just about figures on paper. It's not so much about saving money and reducing spending, no matter what some politicians would have you think. It's about redistributing resources. It's about cutting AFDC, the main support of poor women and children virtually in half from 1970 to 1990, and increasing money for the Pentagon, and a booming arms industry. Now 1/4 of our children live in poverty in this country, but we are well stocked to continue the Cold War. (I thought the Berlin Wall went down.) It's about cutting money for education and putting more money into jails: even though the crime rate hasn't changed for about twenty years, the prison population tripled during the Reagan years and is going up even faster now. And when children grow up hungry and in poverty and with poor education and with desperate parents who can't find jobs, you better believe we'll all reap the results of that deprivation. There will be no community if all cannot be a part of that community. There will be no protection for the one from the pain of the many.

Is capitalism antithetical to compassion? As it is presently practiced, mostly yes. But does it have to be that way? No, I believe not. I believe there is such a thing as an enlightened capitalism in which workers are respected and adequately compensated; in which those who are able to work have avenues for their gifts; in which those who cannot work because of health or circumstance will not be abandoned to the streets. Right now, we seem to be getting little enlightenment from either political party--they are saying what they think they need to say. The fact is that both parties are bought and sold by wealthy special interests. We need electoral reform, perhaps more than any other sort of reform, right now.

But what does all this political talk have to do with spirituality? you may say. Besides, you're preaching to the choir. Am I? How do we act on our beliefs? And how is our action informed by our spiritual life?

First of all, let's talk about our corporate spiritual life, here in our church. Historically, churches are not known for speaking out against societal evil. They are essentially establishment organizations. That is not true of Black churches, I might say, but it is mainly true of white churches. Take the example recently of the Southern Baptist Convention apologizing for racism. The Southern Baptists of course split with the Northern Baptists over the issue of slavery, and they are just now deciding that, well, maybe they were on the wrong side of that issue.

And what were the Unitarians doing during this same tragic time in our country's history? I'd like to tell you we were all abolitionists, but I can't do that. The Reverend Samuel J. May, who was an abolitionist, tells us that many individual Unitarians performed honorable service in the cause of antislavery, but the record of the denomination, as such, was "discreditable." The Unitarians in their corporate actions, he insisted, were anything but courageous or Christian in their dealings with the issue. It appears that no Unitarian minister--save one in New Orleans--defended slavery from the pulpit, but the desire of Unitarians to be just, rational, and open-minded caused them to seem neutral, and many openly disapproved of the extreme measures of the abolitionists.

How will history see us 100 years from now? Do we stand strongly against the evils of our day? Or will we be seen as comfortable apologists for the status quo? What should we be saying right now, that we are not saying? What actions that may seem radical to us now, will seem obvious to our descendents? Will our children and our children's children and our children's children's children be proud of how we behaved here, at First Unitarian Church, in regard to the social ills of our day?

And we are called to act personally, too, as well as corporately. We are called to make a difference. This difference can be a small thing like acknowledging a street person instead of walking past like he doesn't exist. Yes, that is a political act--the personal really is political: awareness is the first step, and awareness is always concrete, sensory, physical. You don't have to begin with a major project. You begin wherever you can. I would suggest beginning where you feel the pain, where your heart picks you up and sets you down and says, "Pay attention here !" There are people at this church working passionately for racial justice, others concentrating on the environment, still others building a home for a family who otherwise would not have one. And on and on. They are helping others, yes, but they are saving themselves. Not because they are earning a ticket to heaven, but because they are becoming one with heaven, one with the holy.

The last time somebody said to me, "I want to develop spiritually," I answered, "Well, you'll find that your life will change." She didn't believe me. That's a warning I want all of you to hear. Start praying, and that's when the trouble will begin. Meditate, and you'll make different choices. Write letters in your journal to God, and God will sent letters back, some of them C.O.D. You will enter into a larger order of truth than you have known, and you will feel obliged to change both your friends and your investment practices. And conversely your action for justice in the world will change you spiritually, will deepen your sensibilities, will strengthen your resources. I invite you to consider taking this path--not that it is easy or uncomplicated or clear--but just start, start somewhere. Starting will put you in touch with your deepest yearnings, with your goodness, with your purity, and with your beauty. It will allow you to experience the generosity that lies latent in your heart and finally will give you the peace that passes all understanding. So be it. Amen.


PRAYER
O Holy One, we ask with some fear and trepidation that you open our eyes, that you give us courage to see injustice for what it is, and what part we ourselves play in allowing it to continue. Help us to regard our own power, and to use it well, for we are accountable, not only to present days and present pain, but to the future and to our children and grandchildren. We ask again, still in fear but out of our deepest longing, open our eyes--and, oh yes, O Holy One, soften our hearts. Amen.

Copyright © 2000, Reverend Dr. Marilyn Sewell. All rights reserved.