by Rev. Dr. Marilyn Sewell

First Unitarian Church

Portland, Oregon

CALL TO WORSHIP

Good morning!

We come together this morning

To renew our faith in the holiness and beauty of life,

To reaffirm the way of the open mind and generous heart,

To reclaim the vision of an earth made fair,

With all her people one.

Come now, and let us worship together.

You may have heard part of the series “This I Believe” on National Public Radio—these are brief statements by ordinary citizens who share their core beliefs with the radio audience.  On November 7, a young man named Eboo Patel spoke.  He said, in part:

“I am an American Muslim.  I believe in pluralism.  In the Holy Quran, God tells us, ‘I created you into diverse nations and tribes that you may come to know one another.’  I believe America is humanity’s best opportunity to make God’s wish that we come to know one another a reality.  <But> we live in a world where the forces that seek to divide us are strong.  . . . .

“I attended high school in the western suburbs of Chicago.  The group I ate lunch with included a Jew, a Mormon, a Hindu, a Catholic and a Lutheran.  We were all devout to a degree, but we almost never talked about religion.  Somebody would announce at the table that they couldn’t eat a certain kind of food, or any food at all, for a period of time.  We all knew religion hovered behind this, but nobody ever offered any explanation deeper than ‘my mom said,’ and nobody ever asked for one.

“A few years after we graduated, my Jewish friend from the lunchroom reminded me of an experience we both wish had never happened.  A group of thugs in our high school had taken to scrawling anti-Semitic slurs on classroom desks and shouting them in the hallway.

“I did not confront them.  I did not comfort my Jewish friend.  Instead I averted my eyes from their bigotry, and I avoided my friend because I couldn’t stand to face him.

“My friend told me he feared coming to school those days, and he felt abandoned as he watched his close friends do nothing.  Hearing him tell me of his suffering and my complicity is the single most humiliating experience of my life.

“My friend needed more than my silent presence at the lunch table.  I realize now that to believe in pluralism means I need the courage to act on it.  Action is what separates a belief from an opinion.  Beliefs are imprinted through actions.

“In the words of the great American poet Gwendolyn Brooks: ‘We are each other’s business; we are each other’s harvest; we are each other’s magnitude and bond.’” 

This experience changed Patel’s life—he became the founder and executive director of the Interfaith Youth Core, a Chicago-based organization fostering an international interfaith youth movement.  He was a keynote speaker at the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize Forum.

It’s not enough to believe, Patel says—it is action that counts.  Can you stand in the crucible?  Can you witness to your beliefs, in word and in deed?  If not—if our spirituality is just a “feel good” experience, if it’s a kind of “comfort blanket” for adults—then I would say that this is not spirituality at all, and it will let you down when you find yourself in the trenches of life—where you will, I assure you, where you will eventually land, because we all do.  Faith must be made of firmer stuff, harder stuff, you see, if it is to hold up, if it is to be there when we need it. 

So I’m saying if we are to live authentic spiritual lives, it’s not enough to have private convictions—we must be willing to go public.  And if this is true of us as individuals, it is true as well for religious institutions.  It is unfortunate—no, let me use a stronger word—it is disgraceful that mainline religions have by and large been so accepting of systemic evil and so focused instead on personal morality and personal salvation.  Churches are much more likely to speak of adultery than of racism; much more likely to emphasize being a good parent to your own children than to speak of the economic and educational needs of poor children.  Now this is not to say that I am pro-adultery, or that I believe parents shouldn’t care tenderly for their children—but to stop there, with me and mine, is not enough.  To believe that if we try to follow all the rules of virtuous behavior in our personal lives and to ignore the pain and suffering in the larger community—well, that’s a pretty shallow kind of spirituality.

I’ve got to tell you that Christian churches, with the exception of the Black church and some Catholic churches, have not fared very well in this arena of prophetic witness.  And neither have most Unitarian Universalist churches, historically, I am ashamed to say.  During the era of abolition, where were the churches?  Basically on the side of the slave-holders—including most Unitarian churches.  We were “gradualists,” saying, well, slavery yes is a bad thing, but you just can’t take people’s property away, and besides Black people aren’t ready to live independently—slavery will gradually fade out in 50 years or 100 years, and all will be well.  You see, our movement was centered in New England, the home of the garment industry, and we needed the cotton from the South.  It’s interesting how economic concerns can blind us to ethical considerations—both as individuals and as institutions. 

And then during the Viet Nam War, where were churches?  Some Unitarian Universalist congregations were activist. But mainline churches were mainly silent.  The most outspoken clergy were those who did not have to answer to congregations—they were Catholic priests like the Berrigan brothers or the Chaplain at Yale, William Sloan Coffin. 

The Civil Rights movement—same thing.  Most churches did not want “to get involved,” and so in the name of keeping the peace in our congregations, we let our black brothers and sisters go before the fire hoses and the attack dogs, with not a word of protest.  I think one of our greatest moments in Unitarian Universalism came on in March of 1965, when Martin Luther King, Jr., called for clergy to join him in a protest march in Selma, AL, where law enforcement officers had been attacking marchers with billy clubs, hoses, and tear gas.  On March 9, King led a march, joined by 450 clergy.  That night white demonstrators attacked Rev. James Reeb, a white UU minister.  Reeb died on March 11, and two days later, the UUA Board of Trustees adjourned its meeting in Boston and traveled to Selma to join the march.  On March 21, 1965, more than three thousand marchers left Selma for Montgomery.  Of the estimated 500 white clergy then in Selma, over 200 were Unitarian Universalist.

One reason churches fail to witness is that they are mainly populated with middle-class people who are pretty comfortable, and are not interested in rocking the boat.  Charity, yes, but justice no.  It’s easy to open a soup kitchen—it’s not so easy to ask, “Why are there so many hungry people?” and then act to make a change.  And churches by and large are not interested in introducing political issues into their religious life because this will no doubt cause controversy within the institution—conflict will arise, and some people may even decide to leave the church in protest.  The institution will become unstable, people fear.  Yes, that’s true, it could happen—but then the Holy Spirit was never on the side of stability.   

And now there is another reason for churches to be afraid to speak out on social and political issues—they may be threatened by the Internal Revenue Service and in danger of losing their tax exempt status.  Some of you may have heard about the All Saint’s Church in Pasadena, CA—the church received a letter from the IRS stating: “Because a reasonable belief exists that you may not be tax-exempt as a church under IRC section 501 (a) or that you may be liable for tax, this letter is notice of the beginning of a church tax inquiry . . . .”

The concerns of the IRS, the letter goes on to say are based on a Nov. 1, 2004, newspaper article in the LA Times concerning a sermon preached at All Saint’s by their former minister, Rev. George Regas.  The sermon was entitled, “If Jesus Debated Senator Kerry and President Bush.”  Now I happen to have the entire text of that sermon, and I happen to know Regas personally, and I will tell you what I know.  First of all, there is nothing partisan in that sermon—as a matter of fact, Regas states explicitly at the beginning of his sermon, “I don’t intend to tell you how to vote.”  Then he goes on to give a searing indictment of the policies of the Bush administration, based on the values that he sees articulated by Jesus of the New Testament.

George Regas led a weekend workshop at one of our large church minister’s conferences in Santa Barbara, CA, a few years ago.  He is a powerful prophetic voice, and at the same time a man of great humility.  He simply tells it like it is.  He has retired now, but over his years of service, this church has grown to be one of the largest Presbyterian churches in the nation, with over 3,000 members.  When this missive from the IRS hit the news, he was besieged by reporters from newspapers, radio and television.  When he was asked if he had any regrets about his sermon, he said, “No regrets.  I only wish I had preached it with greater intensity.”

Later, in a written statement, Regas declared: “An IRS audit will not diminish the prophetic ministry of All Saint’s Church.  Peace and the alleviation of poverty are core values of the congregation.  If we were to allow the IRS to silence us, we would lose our integrity and the very soul of our ministry.  That will not happen.”  Regas goes on to say that the threats from the IRS may have a chilling effect on other churches that would like to speak out, and I agree with him, that that is the danger—intimidation. It would be easier just to play it safe, rather than risk an encounter with the IRS.  But let me borrow his language for a moment to tell you my position:  “An IRS audit will not diminish the prophetic ministry of the First Unitarian Church of Portland, Oregon.  Peace and the alleviation of poverty are core values of this congregation. We will not be silenced.”

Now let’s reflect for a few moments about the core values of Unitarian Universalism, the theological values that undergird our faith.  Who are we, as people of faith?  Where is our prophetic message grounded? 

As Unitarian Universalists, we say “We affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person.”  That word “inherent” is the important one here—inherent, meaning “built in,” “there from the beginning”—it doesn’t have to be earned.  This statement rests upon the theological principle of Universalism—there is no hell, there is no damnation, all are saved.  Does this mean all are good, all are equally righteous?  Does this mean one truth is as good as any other?  No.  It simply means that we worship a God of love and mercy, and we do not believe such a God condemns anyone to eternity in hellfire.  That would be anyone.  Period.  Also, this First Principle—the “inherent worth and dignity of all”—reminds us that each of us carries within ourselves that spark of Divinity, and so each must be treated as a person of value, must be treated with dignity.  It is here that our justice work is grounded.  Unitarian Universalists are not trying to get to heaven—we’re not piling up points for entrance to the kingdom; we are already forgiven, even before we think to ask—but it is incumbent upon us if we are in relationship with the Holy, to love as we have been loved.  We are called to bring the Kingdom of God to fruition on this earth, now, so that the lamb will indeed lie down with the lion, and peace will be among us.  And hell?  Hell is when a suicide bomber blows up women and children at a wedding feast; hell is when some mother’s sweet 19-year-old son gets his leg blown off in Iraq, or worse.  To quote a famous general, “War is hell.”

We are a free religious faith.  This is what truly sets us apart from all other religious groups.  As a Unitarian Universalist, you are free to pursue your own truth, with nothing—no tradition, no authority, no scripture—more authoritative than your own conscience.  I am not saying that it doesn’t matter what you believe—I’m saying it matters so much what you believe that you need to pursue that truth for all it’s worth, that you dare not just accept another’s truth, unexamined, as your own.  And because we claim the right to our own truth, we give others the right to theirs.  We believe that there is truth in every religious tradition, and we draw from time to time from various ones of these.  Unitarian: we believe that God is one.  Is the Muslim God different from the Jewish God different from the Christian God?  We don’t think so.

Unitarian Universalist ministers have what is referred to as freedom of the pulpit—that means I may say whatever I wish from this pulpit without fear of the Board or any higher authority from our headquarters in Boston telling me not to say it.  I may say what I wish in public witness in the newspaper or on radio or TV, without fear of recrimination.  Because of our freedom of expression and congregational polity, Unitarian Universalist churches can and do witness in ways that other churches cannot or will not.  We put up a banner on our building saying “We Support the Freedom to Marry” when no other church in town felt they could do so.

The down side to all this freedom is that each congregation absolutely supports itself financially.  Nobody from headquarters sends us money—in fact, we send them quite a chunk of money.  Today you are being asked to pledge your support to this institution for this coming year.  We need that support from each and every one of you.  You are asked to give in proportion to how you have been blessed.  I would be remiss if I did not share with you my own decision in this matter of giving.  I believe in the “liberal tithe”—that is, 5% of my before-tax income to the church, and 5% to other worthy organizations.  In my case, I have decided on 6% to the church, and something over 4% to other groups—I try to give a little more each year.  What I’ve noticed is that the more generous I have become the freer and happier I have become.  I simply have the funds taken out of my check each month, and I live on what’s left.  And I know that Tom does the same thing, and he would want me to share that with you.  Naturally, if you are in financial straits, or out of work, you cannot pledge at this level—but it’s important that you do what you can, for your own sense of self.  We have at least one person who is on Social Security who is tithing, out of an income of $12,000 a year.  That’s a pretty amazing witness and an example for the rest of us.

I want to take us back to the words of Gwendolyn Brooks: “We are each other’s business, we are each other’s harvest.”  This morning as you decide upon your pledge amount—consider what this institution means to you personally, but also consider what it means to the larger community.  This is a critical time in the history of our nation, a time when we need to speak and to act.  History will not look back upon us with kindness if we are lukewarm in response to the systemic evils that have been set loose in this society.  Can you believe that Congress just voted another tax cut for the rich, and at the same time cut services to the neediest among us?  Can you believe that we have a Vice President who is lobbying for torture?  This country is in crisis, and we cannot hold back—we must speak, and encourage others to speak.  The tide is turning against the war—and that is because of one thing, and one thing only—public opinion.  Our public witness, our educational efforts in this church, count.  We’ve been part of getting the word out, and truth is beginning to seep in. 

I ask you this morning to give as you are able; give not one dime out of guilt, but give rather out of a generous spirit, that the values you cherish in this church might have life, both in you and in your family, and that those values might take strong root in this country, that this country so wounded of heart and spirit might begin the long road to healing.  So be it.  Amen.

PRAYER

Spirit of Life, hear our prayers.  We would be better than we are, more courageous than we are, more generous than we are.  But we are often afraid.  We look into an uncertain future and we question, “Will we have enough?”  And yet we know we have been greatly blessed in our lives.  We know that as we have been able to give, so we have received.  Give us, then, the confidence of a thankful heart and a generous spirit.  Amen.

BENEDICTION

“We are each other’s business, we are each other’s harvest.”  Go now, and bless the world.  Go always in love and in peace.  Amen.

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