Turning is what people say we need to do as a nation. We have somehow gotten onto the wrong path, and we must turn now to a better way. We have chosen a President who promises change, and surely turning to a better way would be another way of putting that. But what is our relationship now to that choice? Have we done our part of the work by making up or minds and voting? I hope that is not all we little people plan to do.
I'm thinking of our country as a large piece of equipment, a big truck, or a ship, something that takes a lot of energy to turn. And this turning is not even so simple as a change of direction for an earth mover, a truck, or a ship. Besides, the pieces of the turning all seem to be interrelated, and not all the levers that control the parts are in the hands of our new president. He controls some of them, and influences some of them, but not all of them, and as he has carefully reminded us, not yet. We chose, and fell back in amazement at our work, which truly is amazing, but it is not done yet -- he starts work on January 20. The other elected officials we chose at the same time will be working with him, whether as partners in his vision or as loyal opposition. That will certainly help us get pointed toward a different direction, but the change of direction involves other institutions than government.
There is still work for us to do. We need to hold to the vision with its interconnected parts, a vision partly in the hands of government, partly influenced by government, and to some degree outside government control. A new way of doing international relations, lowered reliance on fossil fuels, a better system for access to health care, better public education, and a renewed commitment to protecting the habitability of the planet, these are the major headings of what's involved. First, government will have to deal with the immediate crises in the financial markets and the "real" economy. It's important for us to hold the vision of the changes we need, and to start working on them directly as opportunity presents itself.
Maybe there are new "green" enterprises to be started. Maybe the are ways to promote good health practices, from healthy eating to exercise without getting involved with government programs. Maybe there are ways to lead change with local initiative before they make up their minds at the national level. Maybe there are tiny international efforts at outreach that we can make our own.
People are going to be doing things on a small scale that help direct the change that is starting to happen. Some people will be doing things on a larger scale outside the realm of government. Will they be people who value human dignity and diversity? will they be people who value the use of democratic processes everywhere in society? One way to make sure they will be people who have the values we teach in Unitarian Universalism is for them be members of our faith community -- perhaps you? or someone you know? or someone who hasn't yet found us? We are a larger faith in the sense that we direct our attention to the deep needs of our world here and now, rather than to some imagined other world. And I say we need to be a larger faith in numbers, too, in order to help make this turning happen in the right way, in a way that is good for people in all walks of life and good for all living things, in a way that is good for the Earth.
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Sunday, November 9, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Decisions
So here we are at the end of October, making decisions about how to cast our ballots for president on November 4th. We hope these decisions have everything to do with considering what we value, comparing it to what we think might be delivered, using good judgment about aligning our interests with our candidates.
In some ways, it's an exercise in faith. We have no idea what the candidates will really do when they get elected. Sometimes we hope they will do something a little different than what they have promised. For me, I'm hoping that "clean coal" turns out to be something we can live without, and that promises in that department need not be kept. Sometimes, once they are elected, they just change their minds about what they can or want to do, and there we all are.
So we look deeper. There's that surface level where we can calculate whose health care plan or tax plan looks like a better deal for us, and even which one looks like a better deal in terms of the kind of country we'd like to live in. Who is this person? And who are the people around him? What are the indicators of the qualities of character we look for? Yes, it's about character, but not in the sloganeered way we have known in past campaigns.
Unitarians used to believe that good character itself brought a kind of salvation, and indeed, we spend a lot of energy in our congregations considering how to be good people, people of good character. Our seven principles are guides to character as well as being guides to action in the world. So I suggest as a handy guide to the character of our next president a quick check of our own seven principles:
Does he respect the worth and dignity of every person?
Does he model justice, equity, and compassion in human relations?
Does he accept others and encourage them -- if not to spiritual growth, then to finding their own way to a good life?
Does he pursue a free and responsible search for truth and meaning?
Is his way of working with others a model of democratic process?
Does he reach out in meaningful ways toward a world of peace, liberty, and justice for all?
And by his actions does he show respect for the interdependence of all life on our Planet?
If he passes the UU Principles Character Test in addition to promising policies and actions you approve, I say, the choice will be clear. If your deep intuition still tells you something else, I say, examine the sources of your deep intuition. This year's election is not just about getting on with our same way of being a country. It's about finding another way. Character can help us find the leader for that vitally important task.
In some ways, it's an exercise in faith. We have no idea what the candidates will really do when they get elected. Sometimes we hope they will do something a little different than what they have promised. For me, I'm hoping that "clean coal" turns out to be something we can live without, and that promises in that department need not be kept. Sometimes, once they are elected, they just change their minds about what they can or want to do, and there we all are.
So we look deeper. There's that surface level where we can calculate whose health care plan or tax plan looks like a better deal for us, and even which one looks like a better deal in terms of the kind of country we'd like to live in. Who is this person? And who are the people around him? What are the indicators of the qualities of character we look for? Yes, it's about character, but not in the sloganeered way we have known in past campaigns.
Unitarians used to believe that good character itself brought a kind of salvation, and indeed, we spend a lot of energy in our congregations considering how to be good people, people of good character. Our seven principles are guides to character as well as being guides to action in the world. So I suggest as a handy guide to the character of our next president a quick check of our own seven principles:
Does he respect the worth and dignity of every person?
Does he model justice, equity, and compassion in human relations?
Does he accept others and encourage them -- if not to spiritual growth, then to finding their own way to a good life?
Does he pursue a free and responsible search for truth and meaning?
Is his way of working with others a model of democratic process?
Does he reach out in meaningful ways toward a world of peace, liberty, and justice for all?
And by his actions does he show respect for the interdependence of all life on our Planet?
If he passes the UU Principles Character Test in addition to promising policies and actions you approve, I say, the choice will be clear. If your deep intuition still tells you something else, I say, examine the sources of your deep intuition. This year's election is not just about getting on with our same way of being a country. It's about finding another way. Character can help us find the leader for that vitally important task.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Intensive Beach
I had signed up to take an intensive class in Unitarian Spiritual Practice as a student at large at Meadville Lombard Theological School, a week of intensive immersion in learning the spiritual practices of our Unitarian ancestors, mainly the Transcendentalists. Rev. Rob Hardies was going to be teaching it, And it was going to be at Ferry Beach, on the coast of Maine. This was a double attraction, important learning and agreeable location, so I was sure it would be worth the rather astonishing cost.
Now I can report that it was a good choice. Seventeen of us gathered six hours a day for five days in a large room normally used for things involving yoga mats and exercise balls. We had read a large number of books and articles and signed up to do presentations on others that not all of us were reading. (I was part of the Theodore Parker team). I confess, I had not been as well prepared as I intended to be, but I was able to hang onto the thread of the conversation throughout.
The practice of self-culture was at the center of Transcendentalist spirituality, a practice that owed a lot to the way the Puritans had done things before, but also reached across the Atlantic to the German and English Romantics. It had everything to do with starting your day intending to become a better person, examining yourself on a daily basis through keeping a journal and reflecting prayerfully, and consecrating your life to the good of all. In their hands, at that time in the development of American culture, it became a powerful tool for social change. It can be argued that echoes of self-culture still echo down the years in our culture today. As a particularly poignant example, we listened together to Barak Obama's acceptance speech and heard them.
And all week we had a succession of the kind of sweet summer days that make people come back to the Maine coast year after year. Sunshine, a little breeze, cool at night and warm in the day. Not too hot. The water, of course, was too cold for real swimming, which was just as well, since we were not really free during the prime beach hours. There was plenty of walking on the beach, enjoying the porch facing the sea, listening to the waves, smelling the air, and imbibing the sense of peace that comes with all this beachiness. How could we keep on being up tight in a place designed to let go, surrounded by others doing much less stressful things than taking a graduate level Seminary class.
I am heading home refreshed and inspired, ready to start the church year with the spirit of those New England ancestors who loved Nature, loved one another, and loved the Spirit.
Now I can report that it was a good choice. Seventeen of us gathered six hours a day for five days in a large room normally used for things involving yoga mats and exercise balls. We had read a large number of books and articles and signed up to do presentations on others that not all of us were reading. (I was part of the Theodore Parker team). I confess, I had not been as well prepared as I intended to be, but I was able to hang onto the thread of the conversation throughout.
The practice of self-culture was at the center of Transcendentalist spirituality, a practice that owed a lot to the way the Puritans had done things before, but also reached across the Atlantic to the German and English Romantics. It had everything to do with starting your day intending to become a better person, examining yourself on a daily basis through keeping a journal and reflecting prayerfully, and consecrating your life to the good of all. In their hands, at that time in the development of American culture, it became a powerful tool for social change. It can be argued that echoes of self-culture still echo down the years in our culture today. As a particularly poignant example, we listened together to Barak Obama's acceptance speech and heard them.
And all week we had a succession of the kind of sweet summer days that make people come back to the Maine coast year after year. Sunshine, a little breeze, cool at night and warm in the day. Not too hot. The water, of course, was too cold for real swimming, which was just as well, since we were not really free during the prime beach hours. There was plenty of walking on the beach, enjoying the porch facing the sea, listening to the waves, smelling the air, and imbibing the sense of peace that comes with all this beachiness. How could we keep on being up tight in a place designed to let go, surrounded by others doing much less stressful things than taking a graduate level Seminary class.
I am heading home refreshed and inspired, ready to start the church year with the spirit of those New England ancestors who loved Nature, loved one another, and loved the Spirit.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Spiritual but not religious
When I read that there are more people out there in the world who claim to be Unitarian or Unitarian Universalist than there are members of our congregations, I am really confident that we have quite a congregation out there of folks who say they are "spiritual but not religious". True, some of those self-described Unitarian Universalists who don't attend our congregations are more skeptical than spiritual, but there are those who really do think they can be spiritual on their own.
To some extent, it's possible. Many of us prefer the church of nature, taking time out on weekends to go hiking or cross-country skiing or birding or whatever. This is good. Nature can be spiritually nourishing. Our spiritual ancestor, Henry David Thoreau, turned to nature for spirituality more than to other humans. But his friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson, chided him for being too often alone, and urged him to take someone else along on his rambles. Emerson thought there could be no spirituality without human companionship, it seems. Others of us just live our lives, reading books that remind us of the spirit, Conversations With God, Tuesdays with Morrie, books by Thich Nhat Hanh or the Dalai Lama, and contemplating life in what we hope is a spiritual way. But what is spirituality if it does not require anything of you beyond reading books? The spirituality based on books --even the spirituality based on attending occasional weekend workshops -- this is also incomplete without people with whom to talk it over, without the challenge to actually put the spirituality into practice.
Being "religious" can get to be a problem, though. You go someplace where people all believe some things in common, and what if you don't agree? I'm thinking there really are only a couple of things we believe in Unitarian Universalism, when it comes right down to it:
We believe in welcoming. We believe in trying to find our own spiritual paths. We believe in testing our experiences of the source of meaning and guidance through sharing with others as well as thinking it over for ourselves. And we believe in reaching out to help others, no matter where we or they are on our spiritual journeys. And that's about it.
Is it a religion? We think so. But you don't have to be "religious" to be part of it.
To some extent, it's possible. Many of us prefer the church of nature, taking time out on weekends to go hiking or cross-country skiing or birding or whatever. This is good. Nature can be spiritually nourishing. Our spiritual ancestor, Henry David Thoreau, turned to nature for spirituality more than to other humans. But his friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson, chided him for being too often alone, and urged him to take someone else along on his rambles. Emerson thought there could be no spirituality without human companionship, it seems. Others of us just live our lives, reading books that remind us of the spirit, Conversations With God, Tuesdays with Morrie, books by Thich Nhat Hanh or the Dalai Lama, and contemplating life in what we hope is a spiritual way. But what is spirituality if it does not require anything of you beyond reading books? The spirituality based on books --even the spirituality based on attending occasional weekend workshops -- this is also incomplete without people with whom to talk it over, without the challenge to actually put the spirituality into practice.
Being "religious" can get to be a problem, though. You go someplace where people all believe some things in common, and what if you don't agree? I'm thinking there really are only a couple of things we believe in Unitarian Universalism, when it comes right down to it:
We believe in welcoming. We believe in trying to find our own spiritual paths. We believe in testing our experiences of the source of meaning and guidance through sharing with others as well as thinking it over for ourselves. And we believe in reaching out to help others, no matter where we or they are on our spiritual journeys. And that's about it.
Is it a religion? We think so. But you don't have to be "religious" to be part of it.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sadness and Fear
We still don't really know why he did it. But he did, and apparently he was a person who hated everything we stand for. That was enough to trigger a moment not only of sadness and prayer for the people directly involved, but also of fear for ourselves. I'm sure Manchester, New Hampshire, is not the only conservative place with a Unitarian Universalist Church, so my thoughts and prayers go out to my sisters and brothers in those other places, places where it's not inconceivable that some gun toting, disgruntled desperado could choose killing us as a form of self expression.
Our congregation's history includes an episode of terrible vandalism, a crime never solved, when the whole interior of the church was systematically trashed. Was it a hate crime? No one knows, but for the people who were there, it sure felt like it. Personal histories of our members include hateful encounters-- people who were fired from jobs because of their sexual orientation, people who were threatened, even actually attacked, for traveling in the company of someone of the same gender. My own history stretches back in time and across the miles to my childhood in Northern Virginia where my parents were threatened for being "n-er lovers" and all kinds of liberals were referred to as "communists", a time when I learned to be very cautious about expressing my views.
The tree of fear has real roots, and this event has watered them with blood. Let us use it as an opportunity to remember the bad old days and to notice the badness of today, sure, but let us also use this as a time to resolve again that our views have importance in the world, importance that is worth a calculated risk. These risks need to be acknowledged. But let us reflect on them and use those reflections develop the courage we need to stand for what is right in ways that can reach out effectively to our surrounding communities.
Our congregation's history includes an episode of terrible vandalism, a crime never solved, when the whole interior of the church was systematically trashed. Was it a hate crime? No one knows, but for the people who were there, it sure felt like it. Personal histories of our members include hateful encounters-- people who were fired from jobs because of their sexual orientation, people who were threatened, even actually attacked, for traveling in the company of someone of the same gender. My own history stretches back in time and across the miles to my childhood in Northern Virginia where my parents were threatened for being "n-er lovers" and all kinds of liberals were referred to as "communists", a time when I learned to be very cautious about expressing my views.
The tree of fear has real roots, and this event has watered them with blood. Let us use it as an opportunity to remember the bad old days and to notice the badness of today, sure, but let us also use this as a time to resolve again that our views have importance in the world, importance that is worth a calculated risk. These risks need to be acknowledged. But let us reflect on them and use those reflections develop the courage we need to stand for what is right in ways that can reach out effectively to our surrounding communities.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Visions from Chautauqua
It's not like anything else, this gated village on a lake in the not-so wilds of far western New York State. Families come and stay there for a day, a weekend, a week, or all summer, where a feast of cultural opportunities is spread before them. I got up early for Zen meditation with a senior teacher from a well-known Zen center. Others got up early to go sailing or play tennis. Still others slept late in the blissful quiet of this mostly car-free environment. Worship services, lectures, conversations, book signings, concerts, recitals, every hour had another cultural temptation to absorb. Some of the cottages are quite grand, while others are modest. There are hotels and condos catering to most budgets (no campground, though -- there is a definitely higher-than-average-income feel about the place), and really, they are quite interested in making sure there is not a lot of driving of cars. That's what got my attention.
We had paid over $4.00 per gallon the last time we filled the tank on our way over there from New England, so it's not surprising that fuel was on my mind. So here's the deal. There's a little "downtown" area with the library, some shops, a post office, and a grocery store at the center of the place. The other places to go are within walking distance, though there is a trolley service of sorts, and a bus, both making the rounds on a regular basis. Out by the main gate there's an early morning farmers' market for fresh local produce. You can almost just go there and stay all summer without going "off campus" as they say. It's true, there's not a lot of privacy, because the lots are all small and everyone is always out on the front porch.
I spoke with a woman who said she had been coming for over twenty years, arriving from New York City with her carry-on bag, gathering up the things she would have stored from the last season, settling into the same room in the same residence year after year. And in all this time, she has not brought a car with her. I actually didn't ask if she owned one, which maybe she doesn't, since she lives in The City. It seems she wrote a book a long time ago that is still used in schools, that still brings her a dependable stream of cash that makes this vacation possible. But adjustments have to be made. This year, she will have to have someone drive her out to the pharmacy in town, because the delivery service has been changed from the drug store she always had used to a different one, and she hadn't gotten around to changing her prescription. About once a week, someone drives her to town so she can do a few errands, visit the "big" grocery store, and so forth. Otherwise, she walks or takes the trolley or the bus. There's plenty to do, and people she knows who either stay all summer themselves or drift through by the week.
I couldn't help thinking our regular neighborhoods could be more like this. There's Boys' and Girls' Club for the younger set every week day. There are electric carts for people with mobility issues. One payment includes all the culture you can absorb. And while you actually are able to leave at any time, there's not much need. Why not get out of our cars and start walking and biking and taking public transportation? Get to know our neighbors as we walk past one another's porches? I'm sure we wouldn't be living the way we are if there hadn't been some big drawbacks to this old-timey way of doing things, but this glimpse of it made me think that what is old might just become new again. I say, let's take our vision from Chautauqua, and invent a new kind of neighborhood that works without having to drive so much.
We had paid over $4.00 per gallon the last time we filled the tank on our way over there from New England, so it's not surprising that fuel was on my mind. So here's the deal. There's a little "downtown" area with the library, some shops, a post office, and a grocery store at the center of the place. The other places to go are within walking distance, though there is a trolley service of sorts, and a bus, both making the rounds on a regular basis. Out by the main gate there's an early morning farmers' market for fresh local produce. You can almost just go there and stay all summer without going "off campus" as they say. It's true, there's not a lot of privacy, because the lots are all small and everyone is always out on the front porch.
I spoke with a woman who said she had been coming for over twenty years, arriving from New York City with her carry-on bag, gathering up the things she would have stored from the last season, settling into the same room in the same residence year after year. And in all this time, she has not brought a car with her. I actually didn't ask if she owned one, which maybe she doesn't, since she lives in The City. It seems she wrote a book a long time ago that is still used in schools, that still brings her a dependable stream of cash that makes this vacation possible. But adjustments have to be made. This year, she will have to have someone drive her out to the pharmacy in town, because the delivery service has been changed from the drug store she always had used to a different one, and she hadn't gotten around to changing her prescription. About once a week, someone drives her to town so she can do a few errands, visit the "big" grocery store, and so forth. Otherwise, she walks or takes the trolley or the bus. There's plenty to do, and people she knows who either stay all summer themselves or drift through by the week.
I couldn't help thinking our regular neighborhoods could be more like this. There's Boys' and Girls' Club for the younger set every week day. There are electric carts for people with mobility issues. One payment includes all the culture you can absorb. And while you actually are able to leave at any time, there's not much need. Why not get out of our cars and start walking and biking and taking public transportation? Get to know our neighbors as we walk past one another's porches? I'm sure we wouldn't be living the way we are if there hadn't been some big drawbacks to this old-timey way of doing things, but this glimpse of it made me think that what is old might just become new again. I say, let's take our vision from Chautauqua, and invent a new kind of neighborhood that works without having to drive so much.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Florida in June
The General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association gathered in Fort Lauderdale towards the end of June, giving me yet another chance to celebrate my birthday in an exotic location without my family anywhere around. It's generally worth it, as it was this time in ways that I am still sorting out in my head, producing an untidy flood of documents that I am still sorting out on my desk. But going to South Florida in June left me with one very clear impression: people should not be living in such numbers on this hot, fragile, wet, beautiful, sandy shore.
So there we were, gathered into a neat, security-checked corner of this place, one that could be made to appear much like any other convention center, air conditioned into not having to go outside, offered food much like any other convention food, so we could pretend that humans were in fact supposed to be here. For the Haitian cab drivers, it seemed like home. And for us, too, it seemed like home, the home we re-create every year so we can celebrate our milestones, have our conversations about theology and practice, argue about how to do the social justice we want to do, and just generally get into our way of being together -- worship of words and songs and music and artistic ambiance, shopping and schmoozing in the exhibit hall, listening in the plenary sessions, participating in workshops. We might as well be on another planet, and our Planet Convention is in South Florida this year.
I find it difficult to do General Assembly, so this sense that people ought not to live here, ought not to visit here, this sense of wrongness fit right in with my mood. But by limiting the amount I did, by focusing on reconnecting with colleagues, I was actually able to enjoy the time I spent on Planet Convention. I met new friends at the International Council of Unitarian Universalists' booth and related activities. I met old friends at the Andover Newton Theological School event. I hung out with the women of E-Meetinghouse, people with whom I share an electronic fellowship but do not see, especially in groups, unless I come here. My workshop on "Eight Spiritual Practices to Save The World" went well, and I made new friends around that.
I found one friend who also has a General Assembly birthday and had dinner with him. I discovered another friend has a General Assembly birthday, so I had dinner with her the next night. I came away with tasks to do to follow up on new and old connections, and with a sense that I actually look forward to General Assembly next year.
Maybe now that I have conquered the thought that people ought not go to places like that, I can persuade members of the congregation I serve that they, too, should visit Planet Convention, wherever it happens, to make new friends, learn new ways, and celebrate with thousands of others like us.
So there we were, gathered into a neat, security-checked corner of this place, one that could be made to appear much like any other convention center, air conditioned into not having to go outside, offered food much like any other convention food, so we could pretend that humans were in fact supposed to be here. For the Haitian cab drivers, it seemed like home. And for us, too, it seemed like home, the home we re-create every year so we can celebrate our milestones, have our conversations about theology and practice, argue about how to do the social justice we want to do, and just generally get into our way of being together -- worship of words and songs and music and artistic ambiance, shopping and schmoozing in the exhibit hall, listening in the plenary sessions, participating in workshops. We might as well be on another planet, and our Planet Convention is in South Florida this year.
I find it difficult to do General Assembly, so this sense that people ought not to live here, ought not to visit here, this sense of wrongness fit right in with my mood. But by limiting the amount I did, by focusing on reconnecting with colleagues, I was actually able to enjoy the time I spent on Planet Convention. I met new friends at the International Council of Unitarian Universalists' booth and related activities. I met old friends at the Andover Newton Theological School event. I hung out with the women of E-Meetinghouse, people with whom I share an electronic fellowship but do not see, especially in groups, unless I come here. My workshop on "Eight Spiritual Practices to Save The World" went well, and I made new friends around that.
I found one friend who also has a General Assembly birthday and had dinner with him. I discovered another friend has a General Assembly birthday, so I had dinner with her the next night. I came away with tasks to do to follow up on new and old connections, and with a sense that I actually look forward to General Assembly next year.
Maybe now that I have conquered the thought that people ought not go to places like that, I can persuade members of the congregation I serve that they, too, should visit Planet Convention, wherever it happens, to make new friends, learn new ways, and celebrate with thousands of others like us.
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