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Rev. Mark Skrabacz

August 29, 2010

Yesterday was the 47th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have Dream Speech.” He gave his soul-stirring message to 200,000 on the Washington Mall in what has been called the crowning moment of the Civil Rights Movement. It was ranked the top American speech of the 20th century by a 1999 poll of scholars of public address.

I suppose you know that yesterday Fox Network Commentator Glenn Beck held a Tea Party Rally on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Beck says Christians should leave their social justice churches. He says social justice is a code word for communism and nazism. I don’t know if Beck is just strange, or just trying to be controversial, or just trying to make money. But in any case, what he has said attacks the very heart of Dr. King’s message and of the Christian faith, and I wonder how many Christians will express their faith by no longer watching his show, and even decrying his rally, since Beck denies one of the central teachings of the Bible, and Jesus and Dr. King — that of social justice.

Of course Unitarian Universalism is largely a social justice advocacy movement. The fact that we meet as a church and in a church building just might cause many of our neighbors to wonder exactly what it is our church believes. No doubt some of us have searched for ways to express our UU experiences and, hence, I continue to speak about our roots, practices and understandings. No doubt our UU views can appear as disperate as the contrast between Dr. King and Glenn Beck. Today, I’m going to entertain the notion of a controversial topic, that of salvation, salvation from a UU View.

Are you saved? This is a question that is usually only asked by evangelical Christians. What, if anything, might a Unitarian Universalist answer?

If we’re feeling facetious we might be tempted to respond with something like this, “Saved from what? or Saved for what? or Saved by whom, or what? ” But those answers might end the conversation. And if, like me, you believe that Unitarian Universalism has something marvelous to offer a tired and troubled world, you might want the conversation to continue. I would instead offer something like “Yes, I’m saved, but I’m not sure we mean the same thing. What do you mean when you say saved?” And I would ask the person to tell me his or her salvation story. And then I would tell mine.

Because you see, I am saved, just not in the same way fundamentalist Christians mean. That is the reason I am here in this pulpit today, proclaiming with enthusiasm the good news. So what do I, a Unitarian Universalist, mean by salvation?

Well, part of my answer has to do with theology, and goes back to our roots in Universalism and Unitarianism. In America, both began as reactions against the prevailing orthodox Calvinist doctrines of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. These said that human beings were “totally depraved,” with no free will and no ability to make choices that would bring good into the world. The God of Calvin and many Biblical literalists had elected from the beginning of time which humans would be saved and which would be damned to suffer in a fiery hell for all eternity. Jesus was crucified and died in order to pay the penalty for the sins of the elect. The way to know whether a person was one of the elect, who would be saved and resurrected in the new and perfect world that God would create at the end of time, was to read the “signs.” One of these signs had to do with how much material wealth a person had; prosperity was therefore a sign of election. Perhaps this theology describes part of Glenn Beck’s view of what a true Christian should be about? There would be no need for social justice if humans were merely pawns in God’s chess game of life. Besides who could possibly do good and just things for another when only God can effect such goodness?

Two of our best known Universalist preachers were John Murray and Hosea Ballou, in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. They could not accept the Calvinist conception of God. For them, God was a good and loving father. This God would no more condemn any of his creatures to an eternal fiery hell than a loving parent would place a child in an earthly fire. Further, a God who would require the cruel and tortured death of a beloved son as atonement for the sins of some of humanity was not fit for our worship. Ballou argued that God’s purpose was to “happify” people, sending Jesus to teach us by example how to live a happy, healthy and holy life. If we lived in accordance with God’s purposeÑto love God and God’s creation and one another, yes, and practice social justiceÑwe would be happy. If we did notÑif we lived, instead, separated from God and from each otherÑwe would be unhappy. We, ourselves, would create our own heaven and hell here on earth.

Now, here is what I think is the essence of Ballou’s theology, the part that rings as true today as it did two centuries ago. And this very same idea was argued by Unitarians William Ellery Channing and, a generation later, Theodore Parker. It is this: what we need to be saved from is not original sin, and not the fiery pits of hell. What we need to be saved from is the concept of the angry, vengeful God who redeems humanity through violence and divides people into the saved and the damned. Ballou, Channing, and Parker argued that since people model their own behavior on what they imagine God to be, this concept of a wrathful, bloodthirsty God results in earthly hell. It results in the division of people into the worthy and the worthless, and it sanctifies violence against and oppression of those deemed to be worthless. This theology causes people to live in and from fear. A theology of a loving God would enable people to live in and from love.

Ralph Waldo Emerson put it this way: “It behooves us to be careful in what we worship, for what we are worshipping is what we are becoming.” For Ballou, the critical thing was to liberate people from fear so they could live in love. And fear resided in what Ballou called the carnal mind, by which he meant in the body. Fear resided in the body. So Universalist thinking in the nineteenth century made salvation not about where our individual, personal souls go after we dieÑthat was a non-issue. Instead, salvation was a collective enterprise. In both Universalism and Unitarianism, this enterprise meant attending to conditions in the here and now, in this world. If we could liberate people’s bodies from fear of hunger and violence, they could live in love.

We North American UUs can proudly remember the heroes and heroines of our heritage of social justice, like Benjamin Rush and his timely defense of social equality in the late 18th century. And Theodore Parker’s passionate advocacy of abolition in the mid-19th century. We remember Adin Ballou and his critique of the industrial society, and William Ellery Channing with his abhorrence of poverty. Olympia Brown was ordained into the ministry in 1863, the first denominationally ordained woman minister in the US. We remember her along with Red Cross founder Clara Barton, women’s sufferage pioneer Susan B. Anthony, and Dorothea Dix, a social justice activist on behalf of the indigent insane who, through a vigorous program of lobbying state legislatures and the United States Congress, created the first generation of American mental asylums. During the Civil War, she served as Superintendent of Army Nurses.

The UU view of salvation is for life here and now, in love. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “I come that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” Present-day Unitarian Universalism still reverberates with these ideas about salvation. While some of us believe in a personal deity and some do not, we agree in our covenant of seven principles that are underpinned by the following theological notions: the equal belovedness of every person, the importance of caring for this beautiful world here and now, the need to live in love and not fear.

This is part of my explanation of what I mean by salvation, but only part. Why do I say so joyfully that, yes, I am saved?

I grew up as the eldest son in a family whose Catholic roots were generations deep. Our image of God was that portrayed as the rule maker and law enforcer in the sky and of the fear of the final judgment. I began more than 20 years of formal Catholic schooling before I was 5, where I was taught that people are inherently sinful because Adam and Eve disobeyed God at the beginning of creation. Still I tried my best to be good and do everything right, but still I felt that God was angry with me and I was motivated by fear. In order to redeem myself and reach heaven someday, I must do all I could to be like Jesus. I must suffer, and forgive, suffer, and forgive. I was smart, and strong-willed, and I loved earthly things like Nature, and my friends and all things artsy, and it was hard for me to focus on getting to heaven. But I wanted more than anything to be good enough to be loved, so I did my best. I suffered and I forgave. Some fundamentalist Christians would say that this Catholic view of God is inaccurate and that basically all I have to do is accept the sacrifice of Jesus and his Lordship over my life and that all will be well, because God will only see Jesus when looking at me.

Perhaps this next part will sound familiar to many of you because this is your story too, and I have heard it from you many times. When I first began to attend a UU church in Midland during breaks from college I was overwhelmed that people cared enough to listen to me…and I didn’t have to worry about towing the party line. I found I was encouraged to develop my own ideas. This was in the late 60s and I was upset about the conflict in Vietnam and the continuing racial prejudices supposedly righted by integration, yet when I went to the UU church, I could express myself and be heard. That meant a lot to me. Sometimes I’d go to church services and just sit in the back and cry. There was a lot of stuff in my life to process, much of it from my Catholic upbringing. Then I started participating around the edges a little bit, joining demonstrations and small groups to discuss and act on social justice issues.

Finally, years later at the same Midland UU church, after my father’s death in early 1986, I started a men’s group, in which we gathered around and talked with each other and listened to our real stories. When it was my turn, I couldn’t resist being open. The other men had shared deeply, and their stories were riveting. No one had been judged, no one had been rejected. So I told my truth. And instead of turning away from me in disgust, the men leaned in and listened, nodding in recognition of what they heard. It was the first place I had ever been where I felt I could be my whole self, and be accepted for it — truly loved. My community looked into my face and saw light there, and reflected it back tenfold — a hundred fold.

In this way was I saved. Unitarian Universalism taught me that I have inherent worth and dignity, and that I am a beloved member of the interdependent web of all existence. The community that embodied this theology liberated me from fear by gathering around me in love. It gave me the ability to break out of the cycle of codependence and violence in which I was trapped for so long. I finally developed the strength and courage I needed to pursue my dreams and clarify my intentions. I also had the help I needed: my community showed up, with meals, work, rides when my car broke down. People visited me in the hospital when I had surgeries and held my hand when the stuff of life appeared bleak. This was redemptive.

Learning I was inherently lovable helped me to accept the profoundly generous love of others. Knowing all people have inherent worth and dignity helped me share my life in ways that bring me closer with others and to get upset when their freedom is limited. My community helps me create a life that is worth living. This is what I mean by salvation. This religion saves lives. And I think it can help save the world.

At this moment in time we are in the midst of economic, ecological, and political chaos that is unprecedented in our life’s experiences. We know that the sheer scale of change means that nothing will ever be the same again. We have no road map for the future. Some of us have lost many of the securities we were accustomed to. I’ve learned that whenever the human organism is confronted with sudden, potentially life-threatening change, its first response is fear. This is automatic. And right now fear is rampant in our world, as the religious fundamentalists and persons like Glenn Beck and others in many countries and many religions skillfully use apocalyptic rhetoric to manipulate people into acting from their deepest fears rather than from hope or love. This strategy has and is working very well in American debates on health care, immigration and economic reform, as people are manipulated into thinking their individual lives are endangered by changes that may actually benefit the whole.

But shall we have a little compassion for these people who ask us if we are saved? Their God would cast them into the depths of a fiery hell for all eternity if they do not believe just the right thing. They are sore afraid. They are alone and far from home; salvation for them is so individualized, and involves going to a world that is not this one. But we can offer something different in this time of crisis. We can offer real liberation from fear, and a fall into love. We can offer a theology that recognizes our interdependence with each other and with the larger community of life, in which salvation is collective and involves healing this world. We can embody this theology by doing what we do best: gathering together, and listening to each other’s stories. Singing songs, speaking words that matter and making life and art that give us hope and courage. Let’s help each other imagine what might come next. Then, show up to help.

My friends, we have here a religion that could be the salvation of the world, if we will but claim its power and take it to the streets. The stakes are too high for us to hide our light under a bushel. What do we say in the face of a culture that preaches salvation from hell and damnation? We could echo the words of John Murray, “Give them not hell, but hope”

I hope today’s message will encourage you to think, what will you say? I hope today’s message will encourage you to act, what will you do?

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Rev. Mark Skrabacz

August 15, 2010

Elwin Hope Wilson is 73 years old, lives in Rock Hill, South Carolina and suffers from severe diabetes. Last year he became something of a celebrity because, after a lifetime of racist rhetoric and activity, he had a change of heart.

As a young man, Wilson assaulted civil rights Freedom Riders. Later in life he threatened a real estate agent who had sold a nearby home to a black family, and another he time vehemently protested the desegregation of the local cemetery where his parents were interred. On yet another occasion he hung a black doll by the neck in his front yard and dared his neighbors to remove it. He regularly embarrassed his children and grandchildren by loudly repeating racial epithets in restaurants and other public places.

But then, last year, all of that changed. Having decided that his previous behavior had been horribly misguided, Wilson began the painful process of issuing apologies. He traveled to Congressman John Lewis’ Washington DC office to personally apologize for punching and knocking down the former Freedom Rider in 1961. He has visited black churches and offered public declarations of repentance. He has sought reconciliation with black citizens in his community.

Many have greeted Elwin Wilson’s apologies with surprise and pleasure, but others have been more skeptical. As one Freedom Rider allowed: “In the back of my mind I just keep thinking, ‘Why now?'” Why now, indeed. Although it’s always hazardous to render judgments about another person’s motives, one thing is clear: Elwin Hope Wilson, beset with serious health problems, was scared. “I’m going to hell,” he despairingly told a friend, to which his friend replied: “The Bible says that ‘If you truly ask forgiveness and you mean it in your heart, you can be saved.'” At that moment Wilson felt that perhaps he could escape the hellfire he believed was awaiting him.

So, what are we to make of Elwin Wilson’s attempt to reconcile himself to his victims? How legitimate were his apologetic gestures?

There can be no doubt that the man had a great deal to be sorry about and that a sincere and heart-felt apology for his egregious offenses was in order. And there can also be no doubt that Elwin Wilson went the extra mile. Like those medieval penitents who were ordered by Catholic confessors to undertake lengthy, arduous pilgrimages in order to atone for their sins, Wilson has made a strenuous effort to demonstrate remorse in many places and before many people, including members of his own family.

Elwin Wilson’s apologies have made him the object of considerable attention, and now he receives regular requests to speak publically about his conversion Ð a role he doesn’t really relish. He isn’t interested in publicity and, having said he was sorry, just wants to be free of a painful past and gain some measure of hope for the future.

This brings up at least one issue having to do with forgiveness. If the injured party senses that the apology is not an expression of empathy and compassion for their suffering, but only an attempt to assuage the perpetrator’s pain, it may fall on deaf ears. A genuine apology focuses on the feelings of other people rather than how the one who apologizes is going to benefit in the end. The words must communicate the desire not so much to be ‘saved’ but to be in right relationship, which is why Elwin Wilson’s apology to people of color, though powerful, still feels unsatisfying.

“Genuine” or “authentic” apologies include these essential elements:

A clear admission of fault or blameworthiness for specific injuries and, without excuse of justification, an unambiguous acceptance of responsibility; A sincere expression of remorse and regret for the damage our words or actions caused; An appropriate offer of reparation or restitution for said damage; A commitment not to repeat such behavior in the future.

Yet if the apology is half-hearted or seems inauthentic, how might it be reflected? The victim might simply say, “I’m sorry, but I need a better apology than that” which invites the offender to engage in more self-scrutiny and deliver a new message in which all or at least more of the important elements are present.

Now, you can say anything you want to yourself or to other people about forgiveness. But we’ll probably all agree, saying doesn’t necessarily make it so.

True forgiveness requires much more. It requires mourning, transformation and insight — some (as in the Jewish tradition) would add restitution, too. For while forgiveness may be freeing, it isn’t cheap. One way to misconstrue forgiveness is to promote a cheap and easy version of it.

You see, forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. Past experiences and the pain they cause have a great deal to teach us, so that we can try to avoid those patterns, and better yet, change them in the future. For forgiveness to function in a life-enhancing way, it more often requires remembering rather than forgetting.

Forgiveness is not approving or condoning. Forgiving someone often involves making some effort to understand them, but even if we come to fully understand them, we do not thereby conclude that their actions were acceptable. True understanding cannot occur when I in any way deny, minimize, justify, or condone the actions that harmed me.

So let’s be clear about a few givens. Forgiveness is not cheap, it’s not easy. Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting, or condoning, and it is not a form of self-sacrifice.

As we move into considering what forgiveness actually is, I’d like to invite you to get in touch with a situation or a wound that still has a hold on you; that diminishes you. I’d like to move this sermon out of the abstract and into the practical. I’ll give you a moment of silence to go within. (Pause)

What wound still has a hold on you? Some of you may have chosen yourself as a focus. Which brings up a good point: we all need our own forgiveness, for things we have done. And looking at it from another perspective, we need to forgive ourselves also about the situations in which WE have been hurt. We need to forgive ourselves for not having been able to stop whatever happened — for having limits to our control. For not having more information or making different choices. We are often reluctant to admit just how much pain we have and how much our life has been altered. In the aftermath, we have to engage our own feelings of vengeance and so on. This requires bountiful compassion for oneself, even as we hold ourselves accountable for our past actions.

I imagine that some of you chose another person or set of people who hurt you. We are in great need of intra-personal forgiveness. Showing compassion for the perpetrators of injustice or pain is a tall order. It’s a natural human response to ask, “Why should we be concerned about compassion for the perpetrators?” We feel we must focus our efforts on those who have suffered the injustice, not those who’ve caused it. But there’s no such thing as wholeness for me or wholeness for you or wholeness for “The Deserving”. Either there’s wholeness for everyone, or there’s no wholeness. Compassion that has to be earned by good behavior isn’t compassion.

Injustice and lack of forgiveness wounds the perpetrator as well as the target. And our compassion isn’t like some scarce medicine that we have to hoard lest we run out. Compassion begets more compassion. Every time we show compassion, the doors of our hearts swing open wider.

And this is not about condoning oppression or going easy on those who are hurtful. Everyone has to take responsibility for the consequences of his actions. We can insist on that and at the same time show compassion toward the perpetrator.

And I imagine some of you chose a Higher Power, however you experience it. Many of us have anger at the larger structure of things because of unfair personal losses we have experienced. I know that it was this sort of forgiveness that was most on my mind as I wrote this sermon. I remember when I lost my father as a young man. It was almost unbearable, and I was so angry. I wasn’t done with the relationship with my Dad. I cried and raged and cried and raged for a year. Eventually, I got the lesson that I had to forgive. I had to, once again, let go of the way I thought things were supposed to be, how things ought to work. I had to come back into relationship with Life itself. So some of us may haven chosen the Universe itself as what we need to forgive.

We know that letting go is a difficult practice. Yet for those who have let go, isn’t it amazing to know how that experience makes room for something new to show up. We have to let go of something that may be killing us in order for new life to emerge.

As I come to the end of my remarks, I want to emphasize what forgiveness is. Forgiveness is a turning to the good in the face of a wrongdoing or injustice. It is a merciful restraint from dwelling destructively in resentment or in thoughts of vengeance. Not that resentment or thoughts of vengeance are always bad . . . Anger need not vanish for forgiveness to be real; it need only cease to prevail as the main focus of our attention. Forgiveness involves the overcoming of injustice with good. We must come to wish ourselves, or others, or the universe well. In spite of everything, we wish betterment and flourishing of the subject of forgiveness. As we give the gift of forgiveness, we ourselves move toward healing.

Forgiveness is a process. In fact, the Institute for Forgiveness Studies in Madison, Wisconsin, has determined that forgiveness is four-phase process with twenty steps! I won’t go over the twenty steps, but their four phases are actually quite helpful.

The first of the four is the “Uncovering Phase.” In this phase, the individual truly encounters the pain that has resulted from a deep injury. Feelings of anger or even hatred may be present. Confronting these emotions and honestly understanding the injury is emotionally distressing, but it is the beginning of healing. So when we are experiencing the pain of an injury, we are often more assisted by a friend who helps us engage the pain and understand the injury than by one who initially encourages us to forgive.

The second phase is called the “Decision Phase,” and when I think of this stage, I think of an old story from the people of our First Nations. In this one a grandfather is speaking to his grandson. He says, “There are two wolves fighting inside all of us – the wolf of anger and vengeance, and the wolf of compassion and forgiveness.” The grandson asks, “Which one will win?” Grandfather replies, “The one we feed.”

In the Decision Phase, after coming in touch with the pain, the anger and vengeance, the individual realizes that to continue to focus on the injury and the injurer may cause more unnecessary suffering. The individual entertains the idea of forgiveness as a healing strategy. The individual, then, commits to forgiving the injurer who has caused such pain. Complete forgiveness is not yet realized, but the injured individual has decided to explore forgiveness and to take initial steps in the direction of full forgiveness. He starts weaning the wolf of vengeance, and actively nurturing the health of the wolf of compassion and forgiveness. In so doing, the individual enters the “Work Phase.” Feeding the urge toward forgiveness may involve forming new ways of thinking about the perpetrator.

An adult I know who was abused by her mother as a child went from seeing her mother’s abuse as malevolent and powerful to seeing it as weak and pitiful. She strove to understand her mother’s childhood and the suffering of abuse at the hands of her father, and put her own injurious events in context by understanding the context and pressure her mother was under. This new perspective did not excuse her mother, but helped the daughter see her as a member of the wounded human community. Some significant amount of empathy and compassion was generated.

In the “work phase,” this woman also did the work of accepting the pain she bore as a result of her mother’s actions. She had no sense that she deserved the pain, and knew it had been unjustly given. Still, she decided to not pass the pain on to others, nor very importantly to pass it back to her mother. Eventually this woman began to offer goodwill directly to her mother, and there was some reconciliation. In so doing, this woman moved toward growth and toward embracing life again.

The fourth phase is that of “Deepening.” The individual realizes a gain of emotional relief from the process of forgiveness. They may be able to find some kind of meaning that has emerged through their bearing of pain. They may discover a renewed purpose in life and an active concern for others, which they did not fully realize was missing. “Thus, the forgiver discovers the paradox of forgiveness: as we serve others by giving them the gifts of mercy, generosity, and love, we ourselves are healed.” This inspires today’s sermon title: “Forgiveness is for Giving.”

In closing, forgiveness is hard work and a long process. Forgiveness is free, yet it is not cheap. It may be a good idea to visit our injuries and resentments regularly to see if forgiveness is in order. I invite you to choose one area in the coming week in which you’d like to walk a little further on the path toward forgiveness. A sage once prayed, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Indeed, may our trespasses be forgiven by those we have harmed, and may we be the first to do the difficult and whole-making work of forgiveness. May it be so.

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Rev. Mark Skrabacz

July 4, 2010

A Government by the People – Reflections on the responsibilities of our freedom

About patriotism George McGovern said, “The highest patriotism is not a blind acceptance of official policy, but a love of one’s country deep enough to call her to a higher plain.” Thomas Paine’s plea to move beyond the pale of a Sunshine Patriot in “The Crisis” is about as eloquent as it gets. He wrote: “These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated.”

What do we do with our freedom? Many of us question the influence of our liberty at any cost on the world stage. Who here has concerns about our covert and overt operations in our attempts to bring freedom and democracy to countries in areas where we stand to lose our access to natural resources and political clout?

Recent polls declaring our population’s dissatisfaction and distrust of our government are very interesting. I wonder how you feel about our present government and situations that have come to the fore in the last 18 months. How about the 8 years before? Did anyone poll you to ascertain your level of satisfaction and trust? Are you in agreement with these current polls? This distrust in government seems a bit odd given the evidence of people’s disinterest in and lack of knowledge about our system of government. A succession of opinion polls have revealed that a majority of Americans are unable to name a single branch of government – not legislative, not judicial, not executive. Nor can a majority describe the Bill of Rights, which helps explain why the Patriot Act was so easily swallowed by most Americans. More than two-thirds do not know the substance of that landmark Supreme Court case, Roe v. Wade – perhaps the most polarizing judicial decision of the last 40 years. Nearly half of all adult Americans do not know that states have two senators, and three quarters do not know the length of a senate term. More than 50 percent of Americans cannot name their representatives; 40 percent cannot name either of their senators.

American educator and author Mortimer Adler, wrote that citizenship is the highest office in our government. All other offices – president for instance, or chief justice of the Supreme Court – are the instruments by which we, the people, govern ourselves. The government of the United States resides in us, “we, the people.” What resides in Washington D.C. is merely the administration of the government. We recognize this fact when, after a presidential election, we say that we have changed one administration for another. When the administration changes, the government does not change. That’s because the principle rulers of our nation, the citizens, are the permanent rulers, whereas the administration of the government is only temporary.

This is the meaning of our freedom. That “we, the people” have become our own rulers, the power behind the administration of our government. I remember traveling in Europe in Autumn of 2004 at the time leading up to the Presidential election. My European friends continually questioned me as to why I and we Americans were keeping the federal administration in power. In answer to their queries as to how this could be, I could only retort with examples of our two party system gone awry and how politics and lobbying and money had their influences far beyond the pale of the single citizen and his or her one vote. I felt the frustration that perhaps some of you did, especially when November 2 rolled around and the administration was given another 4 years. That motivated me to work during the next few years, attending my precinct caucus in 2008 and personally contributing money and time to elect someone I felt more connected to and whose policies more closely reflected my own.

Regardless of our political preferences, it is sometimes difficult to remember that in our system of government the president is not a dictator, but actually works for the citizens and is limited by the Constitution. Today we must be reminded that we, the people are the ruling class! “Citizen” is the highest office under the U.S. Constitution. All other offices are secondary. Perhaps some of our citizenry are asleep at the wheel when it comes to accountability for what “our government” is doing.

This brings to mind the slogan, “My country right or wrong!” Remember seeing it on bumper stickers and hearing it shouted in the early 70s? This simple phrase was used to polarize a generation during the Vietnam Conflict. History reveals that it was probably first stated as a toast by Commodore Stephen Decatur, Jr., who was an American naval officer notable for his heroism in the Barbary Wars and in the War of 1812. He was the youngest man to reach the rank of captain in the history of the United States Navy, and the first American celebrated as a national military hero who had not played a role in the American Revolution. Decatur said, “Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she always be in the right, but right or wrong, our country!” There’s another saying from Carl Schurz, who was a Union Army general and later served as U.S. Senator from Missouri, and then as Secretary of the Interior. Schurz said, “My country right or wrong: When right to be kept right. When wrong, to be put right!”

As citizen-patriots we love our country, and when the administration is leading the country in the wrong direction, we need the humility to admit it, and the courage to put it right again! As citizens we have the duty to do so.

Citizens come in all shapes and sizes, colors and preferences. One complains that our government officials are proceeding along the worst course of action, flies a flag on all national holidays and sports a “Support Our Troops” ribbon on his car. Another donates to her political party, never passes up an opportunity to vote and sports a “Dissent is the Highest Form of Patriotism” bumper sticker on her car. The relative patriotism of either is pretty much dependent upon your sympathy with their points of view. They have equal claims to patriotismÉ up to a point.

If we hope to gain more out of being an American than patriotic fervor, and seek to be more active Unitarian Universalists, than we must step outside of the “club mentality” and engage in an endeavor Emmanuel Kant emphasized with his students two and a half centuries ago. It was absolutely integral to the development of his philosophical views. Kant said, “Think for yourselves!” “Have the courage to make use of your own understanding.” This speaks to our motivation, that quality which most of us have little ability to understand in others, much less in ourselves.

Let’s look at our two patriots again. Many of us might assume the first gentleman is the worst sort of patriot. But let’s assume he questions the course of action of our government officials because he has been following developments closely from a variety of sources, reading up on specific history and spent a great deal of time agonizing over what the right course of action is, and only after such reflection, he complains.

The second patriot supports her chosen political party and always votes along party lines because that’s the way she’s always done things. It doesn’t matter who is on the ballot so long as she checks off the right box concerning party affiliation. Voting to her is a privilege without any correlating responsibilities.

I don’t want to judge others without some understanding of their motivation. I want to look more deeply and ask what makes them tick.

Beloved community, we may celebrate our freedom today, but there is much to do to fulfill the promise of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. For example, we still have not achieved justice for the First Nations of our land. And we are in the midst of a passionate, yet unofficial, Immigration debate about people who are sometimes referred to as “undocumented workers,” and by others as “illegal aliens.”

And we face another threat – the power of corporations that have all of the rights of “citizens” but apparently none of the limitations. With massive wealth, they are able to purchase “free speech” through the media to such an extent that they have far more power to influence the outcome of elections than real citizens have. Now the Supreme Court, with newly appointed members, has decided that purchased speech is “free speech” and cannot be limited.

The promises of the Declaration of Independence – that all men are created equal, and possess certain inalienable rights – are difficult promises to fulfill. Yet this is the promise of our America. Our government derives its just powers from the consent of the governed. We have, simply because we are human beings, the inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. As citizens, we are the rulers of our nation. We believe today that these promises are not just for white male property owners, as they were at the time of the early American republic. These are promises for all women and men. It is our hope that in time such rights will be seen as the natural rights of all people the world over. In the meantime, we still have work to do to fulfill these promises right here in our own land.

One last thought. In the Declaration of Independence, Jefferson wrote that “the laws of nature and nature’s God” entitled people to these inalienable rights. Jefferson, Washington, Madison, Franklin, Adams all believed in God. The folks on the Religious Right are correct when they remind us of this fact. At the same time, they were not fundamentalist or even orthodox Christians. They were all deists, dissenters, or religious liberals of one sort or another, by the standards of most Americans of their time. A few, like Patrick Henry, were fairly orthodox; a few, like Thomas Paine, were so radical as to be anti-Christian. Jefferson, a deist, declared himself to be a Unitarian. John Adams was a member of a church that became Unitarian during his lifetime, and he is buried in that church, the First Parish Unitarian Universalist in Quincy, Massachusetts – as is his wife, First Lady Abigail Adams, and his son, President John Quincy Adams, and his wife, First Lady Louisa Catherine Adams. Two presidents and two first ladies all buried in a Unitarian Universalist Church – and no other church in the United States can say that. Likewise, Washington, Franklin and Madison also held deist views. They believed in God. But they often preferred terms like “providence,” or the term Jefferson used in the Declaration, “the laws of nature and nature’s God.” That is not a biblical phrase; it is a deist phrase.

Yet the Founders were not as secular as some on the left like to think, and they were not as orthodox as some on the right like to think. As a group its fair to say that they did believe that “the laws of nature and nature’s God” had endowed us with inalienable rights. They thought religious faith was important, that it gave us morals and ethics, and that these things were necessary for good government.

But they did not want a test of faith to be required to hold political office. The Constitution makes this clear. They did not want a national religion – the Bill of Rights makes that clear. And, as the Treaty of Tripoli clearly states – it was negotiated during the Washington administration, signed by President John Adams, and ratified without controversy by the Senate in 1797 – they did not intend the United States to be a Christian nation. Rather, they wanted our nation to be a land of religious liberty and tolerance.

And while they mentioned “the laws of nature and nature’s God” and the “Creator” in the Declaration of Independence, they left God out of the Constitution.

In one of the last letters of his life, Jefferson wrote of America’s hard-won freedom from kings who used church and state together to reign over others, acting as if only monarchs could draw strength from God. On June 24, 1826, 10 days before his death, he wrote, “All eyes are open, or opening, to the rights of man. The general spread of the light of science has already laid open to every view the palpable truth that the mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their backs, nor a favored few booted and spurred, ready to ride them legitimately, by the grace of God.”

For the Founding Fathers, God’s grace was universal, not limited to royal blood. We owe a great debt to our Founders. They were not gods. They were not perfect. They believed in liberty, but many kept slaves. They believed in virtue, but most lived very complex private lives. All believed in the general idea of religion as a force for stability, but most had unconventional faiths.

George Washington refused to kneel to pray, and was not known to take communion – in fact, when a clergyman admonished Washington for not taking communion, Washington responded by ceasing to attend church. Still, he explained the American victory in the Revolution as “the hand of Providence,” going on at great length about how God had defeated the British Empire.

These complex and self-contradictory people laid the groundwork for much good. We hold these truths to be self evident! We have many promises to live up to. May we have the wisdom to fulfill the promise of the Founders, to achieve the blessings of liberty, justice and peace; and may we have the strength to pass on these blessings to future generations.

Being an American can help us live our UU principles and being UU can help us achieve what James Bryce expresses so beautifully. “Our country is not the only thing to which we owe our allegiance. It is also owed to justice and to humanity. Patriotism consists not in waving the flag, but in striving that our country shall be righteous as well as strong.”