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Corinna and Dale Whitaker-Lewis

February 28, 2010

Readings:

Dale: We have two short readings. The first is from William Butler Yeats…

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

Are full of passionate intensity

Corinna: And this, from the instructions on a box of cards..

Fluxx, a perfectly simple card game for 2-6 players.  Simple? Fluxx has but one rule: “Draw 1 card and then play 1 card.” What cards could you play?  Well, you could play Time, or War, or perhaps Love. I shall play Chocolate. It is a fine thing to have Chocolate.  What’s this? You have played the card “Play 2.” Well, then, play a second card!  Don’t you know the rule of Fluxx? It is this: “Draw 1 card and then play 2 cards.” Well, that’s what it is NOW.  Perfectly simple.  The goal of the game?  Oh, I’m terribly sorry. No one has played a Goal card yet.  Enter the World of Looney Labs Games.” (Now that’s a fitting name, isn’t it?)

Corinna: Good morning everyone!  My name is Corinna Whiteaker-Lewis,

Dale: and I’m Dale Whiteaker-Lewis, and we have been coming to this church for almost 20 years.

Corinna: We have two daughters who delight and challenge us every day, Audrey who you just heard reading the children’s story, she’s 13, and Bridget’s here as well, and she’s 10.

We hope we will live up to Janet’s expectations today –we are very honored she asked us to speak, and also quite a bit daunted! Please forgive our need to read quite a bit of what we will say to you today.

We have reflected much over the years on this church, this congregation, this religion called Unitarian Universalism.  Having been raised without a religious tradition, this church is the only one I’ve ever known, so it’s all new to me.  We found this church in 1991 because we wanted someone to marry us, but leaving it at just that felt wrong.  We needed to make a connection here, and we did – we made good friends and have left sermons feeling recharged for the week ahead.

Dale: I grew up attending an Irish Catholic church in Cedar Falls, Iowa.  I didn’t connect strongly with the faith or rituals of my parents, and came to hate being forced to attend.  Millions of people have gained purpose and direction from that religion.  But, I came away as a teen bitter and—except for my love of a good hymn—feeling like I had escaped something unpleasant.  When we started coming here in ’91, I overcame my childhood resentment with a bargain.  I would be OK attending church if I: A. Don’t have to dress up –and— B.  Don’t have to “remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.” I could miss a week or two.

Corinna: And for a while, that was all we needed—inspiring sermons, a casual dress code and no truancy policy. But, our family’s participation in the life of this church has also really waxed and waned, waned and waxed over these last 18 years.  Some years, we maybe came to service once a month. The old bargain didn’t make our church life meaningful by itself.  But seeing that you all accepted our approach made this a safe spiritual environment for us.  In the vocabulary of logic, this was a necessary condition of our growth, but not a sufficient one.

Dale: We sometimes fell back on that basic bargain, but over time both our involvement and our unconscious expectations grew. Over the years we have taught in summer camps, chaired the Social Action Committee, helped form an Amnesty International group, served on the Board of Trustees and worked on the church’s computer network.  My resentment of religion faded, and we enjoyed most of our church activities.

Without thinking about it, though, our expectations grew: for a cleaner RE wing, for support of our personal causes, for a well-oiled volunteer process, and the like.  So, our minimum requirements for church life expanded, but I can’t say that we ever spelled out the new bargains clearly, even to ourselves.  At the same time, we often didn’t know what the church and its members expected of us, and so we weren’t always very engaged.

Corinna: Looking back, the inconsistency of our attendance seems strange to me.  I guess there were reasons why we didn’t come much some years: newborns, new houses, new jobs. So, while I think an expressed tolerance and acceptance drew us to this place, the absence of a request for commitment kept us from making one. Asking for a commitment would have meant this church would have to know itself, and be able to describe that to us.  And then tell us what our role, as church members, would be.  Because to ask us to figure out what this place meant to us was waayy too much work, I mean that’s just waayy too many choices.

Does that mean we were lazy? Does that mean we were not good UU material? I mean, this is all about everyone finding their own truths, right? I think it’s a lot to ask someone new to our church to do on their own, though. I mean, it’s just the kind of work you join a church to do together with others–developing relationships and, dare I say, some rules. I am one of those who work better with constraints than without, and I wonder if that doesn’t have something to do with it. I mentioned this to my friend Natalie, and she talked about how some of the most creative costumes she’d ever seen were for the black and white ball in San Francisco.

Multiple choices tend to stymie me, and I don’t think I am alone in this.  Dr. Barry Schwartz, in his book, “The Paradox of Choice, Why More Is Less” argues that too many choices can erode our psychological well being. He cites a study where shoppers will buy more jam when offered fewer varieties. He argues that after thousands of years working towards the simplification of providing for the necessities of life, the trend is reversing back to foraging behavior, as we are forced to sift for ourselves through more and more options in every aspect of life. I know that after shopping exclusively at little Wheatsville for a while, entering an HEB can feel like climbing Mt. Everest.

Dale: Fast forward to February of 2006, when our minister delivered the only sermon we’ve ever walked out of, about the responsibility for the 9/11 attacks.   The experience helped reveal hidden assumptions and expectations we had.  And, understanding those new expectations matters more to us now than what was said, or how it made us feel.  We had made new bargains and had new, necessary conditions for our church life.  We had strong expectations that weren’t being met, about what other church members believed or would accept.

I have been an alcoholic in recovery for nearly my whole adult life—I spent my 20^th birthday in rehab.  The lessons of sobriety have shaped my whole life, including church.  I have been taught that, when I have resentments, it helps to look relentlessly at my own part in the matter.  This serves two main purposes, first to take the focus off the offender, since I’m never going to change them.  Second, it helps me see where—to quote recovery literature—I’ve made decisions based on self which later put me in a position to be hurt.

Corinna: After 2006 and through the dismissal to this year, we have thought a lot about our role in the hardship we now face together.   In the example of the 9/11 sermon, Dale and I found we had developed unspoken assumptions about how others must support us, about the type of sanctuary you were required to maintain for us here.  We had built the walls of our sanctuary well inside the walls of the church, and left a lot that we didn’t like outside those walls.  We both feel now that for our church to heal, we must come to see not just a part of the church as our sanctuary, but the whole church body.  Not doing so sets us up for disillusionment.

For example, if you are very in touch with the music program, or the RE program, or the Forum program, and that changes suddenly and drasticly, will you still find peace of mind and sanctuary here?  We were convinced that we personally needed to expand our concept of sanctuary, but we weren’t sure how to accomplish that.  So, we were both relieved and excited when Janet started emphasizing covenant, especially developing something like a “covenant of right relation”.   It seemed to provide an opportunity for us to look at our relationship to the church as a whole.

Dale: To us, it seems like creating a good covenant is a lot like deciding on how to play certain games among friends.   Preparing to play a game might start with months of training for a marathon, or a casual invitation to play cards.  Just so, our activities at church might be well-planned or impulsive.  In each case, though, a lot about what happens and how we experience it depends on the rules of the game.  The rules might all be agreed and well-known ahead of time, as with the marathon.  Or, they might be last-minute, the way kids often make up new rules for each backyard game.  More likely, there are some of each: “standard” rules and “house” rules.

Standard rules to tell us things like which of the 100’s of card games we’re playing with that same old deck.  And House rules to fit the game to the players or circumstance.   Maybe we have younger or inexperienced players that need a break, or less than the usual time to play, or maybe we just think our rules will be more fun, just as we might spice up an old recipe.  If we don’t agree on some rules, though, can we even play a game together?  Or, are we just in the same place at the same time?  Think of that tense feeling we all know from childhood, when a player tries to change the rules to his or her favor in the middle of the game.

Corinna: Our family has always enjoyed playing games together.  In BK times, before kids, we had a lot of fun playing the video game Myst with our friends Karen and Michael, Rod and Carol.  We also had way too much fun with a free CD of Boggle that we got off a box of Cheerios. (Geeks that we are.) The girls started out on these cooperative board games where no one actually loses.  Harvest Time! Let’s all help each other bring in our crops!  But there’s one thing we always do, and that’s set up some house rules.  Do-overs might be allowed.  You can start your turn before amassing 30 points.  Sometimes there are very strict time limits on (some player’s) turns!  Or, you can have all the time you want.

Dale: Amazingly, as you heard in the reading, you don’t need to know the goal to start playing the card game Fluxx! The goal comes in somewhere along the way, and often changes.  What makes it playable is that people sit down together and agree on a single rule, just to start with.  People walked in the door of this church.  It’s reasonable for a person to first experience this sanctuary and our services when they start coming here.  But it’s a church,we are the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin, so we don’t think of this place as a lecture hall.  It is a sacred space, for inspiration, for meditation, for transformation. And much of that transformation happens in the relationships between each other, as a people sitting here together, sharing life.

Corinna: I don’t think I was looking for spiritual growth, really, when I started coming here. I was just looking for a group of people who shared my beliefs, so I could feel good and comfortable about having those beliefs. I was tired of being the outsider, the one who isn’t like everyone else.  At 6’2”, as a lifelong vegetarian, as a liberal in Texas, I’ve been in the minority often enough.  Being different was something I long had turned into a strength and used as a defense mechanism.

It served me well for quite a long time, but ultimately it was an easy out, with no opportunity for change.  My spiritual journey now is to be the best person I can be, while contributing to something bigger than myself.  Something that is meaningful, uplifting, and a catalyst for good. So, I make a commitment to this community.  But to adhere to a commitment you make to other people is hard work, and you have to work at it.  It is not easy, but from that hard work comes growth.

Dale: To my mind, the most important rules for a covenant of right relation are the most minimal.  What standard of behavior can I, on my worst day, still commit to uphold.  If some morning I didn’t have time for breakfast, and I just found out a loved one was ill, and my shoes don’t fit right and my car is acting up and I’m late to church and you stop me in the hall to ask me about a problem with a church computer.  Then, what behavior should I tell you to expect of me?   That minimum standard of behavior says:  if I don’t meet even this, you are right to be concerned for me, and it is OK to be upset with me.   You should expect better, and you can and should help me to do better.   I may not be pleasantly receptive to your correction, but the heart of the covenant is that, even on those occasions where I miss the mark, I commit to stay engaged while I try to get my behavior back in line.

Corinna: When you are in community with other people, when you’ve shared a covenant on how to behave, the hardest thing is to call someone on not honoring it.  The fact that we don’t have a covenant yet makes it even harder, since we don’t even know if we agree on what’s acceptable.  I experienced this just recently. I had an exchange with someone here at church that made me feel uncomfortable and maybe even a little bit threatened. This person spoke very judgingly, told me I was wrong, raised her voice, and seemed very irritated and exasperated with me.  I remained calm, and restated my point of view, but ultimately did not let this person know how she was making me feel. I then turned around and talked to someone else about had happened!

Fortunately, my confidant gently let me know that my silence only allowed this person to think that the way she treated me was ok.  And on top of that, I was developing a negative opinion of this person without giving her any chance to explain herself. So, while I upheld a personal commitment to be polite, I also have the harder job of standing up for that value with someone who may not share it. This is the very difficult part of living honestly with other people, of being in community.  But, this experience would have been easier for me if I had known that we both agreed to a covenant, as members of this church, to be caring toward one another.

A covenant of right relation, or some agreed-upon house rules, allows us to leave our suspicions at the door, and have meaningful experiences in an environment that may strain or break our expectations about things that matter to us.  Having that commitment to each other about a minimum standard of my own behavior and yours, even helps me tolerate situations where the commitment is breached, because we have a standard to get back to that is a community standard that we can remind each other of.  Bringing this out of the realm of the implicit helps expose assumptions we have about “normal” or “acceptable” behavior.  And I make the promise here and now, before you all, that I will get up the nerve to speak to this person!

Dale: And, just to give you an idea of how disciplined we were in preparing for this sermon, a very timely article came in yesterday’s UU World magazine.  Written by a consultant with the Alban Institute, Dan Hotchkiss, it talks about covenant, mission, and vision.  When discussing who the board of a church must serve, he says they must serve, quote, “the congregation’s mission, the covenant the congregation has set its heart to and the piece of the Divine Spirit that belongs to it.” He then goes on to ask and what is the mission?  “The great management consultant Peter Drucker wrote that the core product of all social-sector organizations is “a changed human being.” A congregation’s mission is its unique answer to the question, “Whose lives do we intend to change and in what way?” …. Growth, expanding budgets, building programs, and such trappings of success matter only if they reflect positive transformation in the lives of the people touched by the congregation’s work,” unquote.

Corinna: You know, what we have here is such an incredible opportunity.  There are not many chances for a group of people to get together and determine for themselves how they want to be with another.  Like the children in Roxaboxen found, this is a freedom.  But it won’t happen; we can’t be healthy here, unless we are willing to be vulnerable and say that we’re not perfect and would like to change.We must start with ourselves.  And then dare to think that we might know what we would like to be, and that with each other’s help and love, we can get there.

Dale: In the meantime, come play some games with us! The Open Minds Covenant Group is hosting an all ages Games Night in Howson Hall this coming Saturday night at 7 p.m. Snacks. Drinks. Surprises. Childcare provided in the nursery (need to RSVP for that), but there will also be supervised games for kids 5ish and up. But you’ll have to follow the rules, and we know you will! We’ll bring Fluxx…

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Rev. Stefan M Jonasson

UUA Director for larger congregations

January 24, 2010

Text of this sermon is not available. Click the play button to listen.

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First UU Transition Team

Margaret Roberts, Sylvia Pope, Wendy Kuo, Sharon Moore, Nancy Bene, Jim Burson, Michael Kersey

January 17, 2010

Margaret Roberts

Some months ago, I worried that our church would become inactive and even lethargic during the two year transition period between settled ministers.  Fortunately, I had no need for concern.  We have remained a very busy and vibrant congregation.  If you doubt me, I encourage you to check the bulletin boards in the hall adjacent to and across from the office.  There you will see hundreds of photographs documenting many recent church activities.  We have come together to worship, sing, celebrate, play, learn, share ideas, cook, eat, feed and shelter the homeless, and conduct church business.

The timeline exercise which we underwent in October and November confirmed what the photographs of our activities illustrate:  we are a healthy and energetic congregation.  Having read the comments posted by our church membership on the timeline, I believe the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin is experiencing an upswing in attitude and outlook.

Many church members expressed pride in First UU’s long history of participating in works of social justice.  One commenter reminded us that as early as the 1950s, this congregation made efforts to racially integrate Barton Springs.  First UU Church is a longtime supporter of the local chapter of Amnesty International.  Our social action outreach continues today with our sack lunch for the homeless program, our regular assistance at the People’s Community Clinic, and our participation in Hands-on-Housing and Freeze Night sheltering programs.  Did you know that six members of First UU donate 3 hours every week to assist Austin’s North Central Caregivers?  And were you aware that our choir performs at an annual concert each December for the benefit of North Central Caregivers?  In addition to addressing local social issues, our church is responsive to victims of world crises.  We experienced this concern earlier in our service as the collection was taken to help the people of Haiti.

Many comments on the timeline expressed pride in our church community’s ability and willingness to take care of each other through the work of our Congregational Care Committee.  This desire to help each other during times of personal difficulty was evidenced by the generous collections taken during our recent Christmas Eve services.

A number of members expressed pride in the progress of our healing since our minister’s departure 13 months ago.  Almost immediately after Reverend Davidson Loehr’s dismissal, groups were established within the church for people who wished to share their feelings with others.  Outside experts were consulted and workshops scheduled to help us process our grief and rebuild.  Volunteers stepped forward and new leaders emerged to assure that our church life would continue.

Most of us agree that we need to learn to disagree with more civility.  We need to develop methods of arguing with respect.  As UUs, we like to think of ourselves and enlightened and accepting of others who differ from us; we need to practice this acceptance with each other and strive to be open-minded and kind in our interactions with our fellow congregants.

Despite the challenges we have faced during the past 13 months, our members still hold many hopes and dreams for our church.  For example:

1)     We dream of the re-establishment of our warm, loving church environment where members interact with honesty, fair-mindedness and respect, and where we collectively work to promote the interests of our posterity;

2)     We dream of creating a hospitable church community that welcomes new-comers and guests and celebrates diversity of ideas, faith, culture and lifestyle;

3)     We hope for renewed commitment of church members expressed in terms of increased participation in church activities, and increased financial pledges to assure support of our various programs, generous compensation for our staff, and payment of our “fair-share dues” to the Unitarian Universalist Association;

4)     We dream of a super-successful capital campaign so we can remodel and expand our existing building to meet our active congregation’s needs now and in the future;

5)     We dream of having a greater impact on the local, national and international community expressed through more educational outreach and more social action activities; and

6)     We look forward to calling an excellent new minister who fits our church and our local community, and who welcomes a regular professional evaluation as an opportunity to communicate with the church membership.

Some may find this list of hopes and dreams daunting, but I find it encouraging.  Because so many of us have the courage to nurture hopes and dreams for our church, I feel confident that we have a future.  In fact, I believe we have a strong future, because I believe that this transition experience, as tough as it has been, will ultimately prove to strengthen the First UU Church of Austin.

Sylvia Pope

Many of the contributions to the timeline that resonated most for me were those that spoke about our congregation’s commitments to the environment.    As embodiment of our belief in sustaining “the interconnected web of which we are all a part;” we have cultivated native plants on our campus, installed solar panels on our roof, changed to energy-efficient light bulbs and sought to recycle our paper, bottles and cans.  These “green” steps may seem small but they convey our commitment, care and concern for our planet and each other.

Here are some of the thoughts shared on the timeline:

“I am so proud of our church’s environmental efforts – gardens, solar panels, etc.”

Another Proud Moment:  “Garden’s Wildlife Habitat designation and proud of all who worked to make it so.”

Did you know that our landscaping has been certified a Backyard Wildlife Habitat by the National Wildlife Federation?  Thanks for the efforts of Dale and Pat Bulla, Barbara Denny and many others who affectionately toiled to transform a humdrum landscape into something wild, beautiful and beneficial to nature.

The All Ages Playground; a welcoming, nurturing place for youth and adults; is a native landscape showpiece that was conceptualized and brought to life by Elizabeth Gray and Earl ??? and many volunteers.  If you haven’t had the time to sit on one of the benches and enjoy the cool breezes on a sunny afternoon, I highly recommend it!

In the Hopes and Dreams portion of the timeline, our environmental commitment was mentioned directly but I believe that is a part of our collective desire to be a community of vibrancy, inclusion and inspiration!

===================================================================================

A second theme mentioned in the Proud section is the strength of our religious education program.   I share a strong interest in RE and I believe that our collective support of this program and our children has kept us together at times when we felt like falling apart.    Does any church have as dedicated and enthusiastic staff and volunteer corps as we do?  I doubt it!  Examples of their energy and creativity are:  the UU Summer Hogwarts School (a fun, unique and free week of community building for our children),  co-hosting  YRUU rallies, the Halloween Haunted hallway and the Christmas pageant.  New members and visitors bring their children to our church because of the warm, welcoming atmosphere.

Sharon Moore

In your notes you talked about 2 of my big passions regarding our church life. One is the quality of the leadership of our senior staff and one is the importance of small group ministry in our church.

You said we should call no more one trick ponies for minister and that we have looked to ministers to make us whole – to save us.

My experience in 3 UU churches tells me that our ministers generally come with 1 of 3 major talents.

• One is best at administration and strategizing and leads us through all the minutia and vital tasks that make a church run efficiently.
• Another minister is a great orator who leaves the management duties to the executive director and leaves the pastoral care to a second minister or congregational care team. This person’s strongest talent is in inspiring with words.
• The third type is a caregiver, a pastoral person who excels in people skills, loves to counsel, visit the sick, perform weddings and memorial services.

All 3 types bring a different set of skills to keep the church strong. Almost never will 1 person have all 3 gifts in abundance. That would be the perfect person, and no one is perfect.

With our new settled minister, we must pool all of our resources, dream our dreams, and work hard to make them a reality.

Many of your notes dealt with wanting us to strengthen community here.

You said, The covenant groups started and are still part of our community. Yes! You said, In Evensong I formed lasting relationships here.

You talked of the positive impact that groups such as sharing suppers, men’s breakfast, adult ed. Classes, Voyagers, Paradox Players, Circle of Friends, Couples Club, and many more groups and committees have had on your lives.

I believe small groups are the key to really getting to know one another. We all yearn for heart to heart contact, to be listened to, validated, and challenged to grow. We can’t go it alone.

You will have several opportunities in the coming weeks to participate in group discussions, working on our church’s core values, covenant, purpose and mission statements that will all help get our church ready to sail on a wonderful new voyage with all of us buying in to where we are going and how best to get there.

Nancy Bene

We are a community. We are a network. A web of interconnectedness.  What we do and don’t do effects all around us.  On the positive side, we are a safe haven where what we do is respected and encouraged.  Our community has existed for over 50 years here in Austin. Through good times and not- so- good times – just like a family. We’ve talked together, dreamed together, argued, laughed, joked, created, destroyed and cried together.

I’m sure you know that the seeds of our present not-so-good times were sown several years ago.  We lost our way toward the principles we value most.  Instead of growing into the workings of a large congregation, we continued doing what we had always done.

Each step taken to break the old ways was difficult and we are in for a few more difficult steps before we can reach out to a spiritual leader and ask him or her to join with us.  We must step back and take an objective look at where we are and where we want to go and then express in writing – for everyone to see- what it is that we collectively hold sacred.

Many of you who posted sticky notes on the time line were proud of this church.  Many thought we could do better.  Now is the time for you to actively influence the direction this congregation will take in the future.  Tell us how we can heal and become the safe haven for spiritual growth translated into action in our community.  There is and always has been a tremendous creative energy in this church.  We can work together to encourage ourselves and others to become the best we can be. I look forward to working with you, all of you, in discovering what this church, as a whole, finds precious. And then sharing our uniqueness, our preciousness within our community – here and everywhere.

Jim Burson

Talk To Me About Our Church

G – O – O – D MORNING —

My name is Jim —

Today I want to ask you to TALK to ME —

The comments that were posted on the Time Line that stood out most to me were of two types —

One type asked for more TRANSPARENCY by our church board –

The other type asked us to be more FRIENDLY to visitors and

new members —  people that we do not know —

These messages tell me that THE biggest challenge that our church faces is –

Not enough communication –

Y’all need to talk to each other –

Y’all need to talk to me –

The members of this congregation need to talk to each other –

And  not only to the friends we know –

But, more importantly, — talk to people we do not know –

Talk to me –

Each of you  –

Must talk to our minister, —-  Janet Newman —

You must talk to the board members –

And,  — the board members must talk to you –

And, —  of  course  —  the board must talk to the minister –

And,  —

y’all, — must talk to me –

I am personally  going  to seek out people that I do not know –

To talk to them –

And to listen to them –

We must have dialogue  —

Not just talking –

But, —  talking  AND listening –

And —  you must listen more than you talk –

Y’all listen to me.—

If we had been talking and listening to each other for the last ten years –

We would not be in the situation we are in now  —

We would have  fewer complaints about TRANSPARENCY ––

Fewer complaints that we are  AN UNFRIENDLY people —

Y’all stop to talk –

Stop to listen to each other –

I’ll listen to you –

My name is Jim —

Y’all  talk to me —-

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Rev. Dr. David Jones

November 15, 2009

Readings:

Matthew 14:22-33

Exodus 35: 20-29

Sermon: Keep your eyes upon Jesus

On the morning of my senior sermon at Princeton Seminary I was shaving and made the dire mistake of nicking a mole on my neck and it required a serious Band-aid. Preaching professor, Dr. Donald Macleod, a sometimes dour Scot, noticed the obtrusive Band-aid and inquired: “Mr. Jones – what is that thing on your neck?”

“It’s a Band-aid.”

“A Band-aid! On your neck – on the morning of your senior sermon! And how did that get there?”

“Well, Sir, I was thinking about my sermon and I cut my throat.”

He replied: “Well you would have done a wee bit better if you had thought about your throat and cut the sermon.”

I’ll try to be succinct today.

Seven years ago my family and I moved to Austin, TX from a little ocean-front village called Amagansett, NY. The cultural shift from the eastern end of Long Island NY to Texas is ambitious. One morning we had breakfast in a southern diner and the waitress, knowing we were Yankees asked me: “Y’all want to try some grits?” To which I replied: “Well, I’ll have one or two.” Like many towns on the L.I. coast, Amagansett has a rich history of instituting Life Saving Stations. I share this story from the Preface of Dr. Howard Clinebell’s book: Basic Types of Pastoral Counseling.

On a dangerous sea coast, where shipwrecks occur often, there was once a crude little lifesaving station. The building was only a hut, and there was only one boat, but the few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea. With little thought of themselves they went out day and night diligently searching for the lost. Some of those who were saved, and others in the surrounding area, wanted to become associated with the station and give of their time, money, and effort for the support of its work. New boats were bought–new crews trained. The little lifesaving station grew.

Some members of the station were unhappy that the building was so crude and poorly equipped. They felt that a more “comfortable” place should be provided as the first refuge of those saved from the sea. They replaced the emergency cots with beds, and put better furniture in the enlarged building. Now the lifesaving station became a popular meeting place for its members, and they decorated it beautifully and furnished it exquisitely. Fewer members were now interested in going to sea on lifesaving missions, so they hired life boat crews to do the work for them. The lifesaving motif still prevailed in the club’s decoration, and there was even a liturgical lifeboat the club’s initiations were held.

About this time, a large ship was wrecked off the coast, and the hired crews brought in boat-loads of cold, wet, and half-drowned people. They were dirty and sick. Some of them had black skin, and some yellow skin, and some olive skin. The beautiful new club was in chaos. The property committee immediately had a shower built outside the club where victims of shipwreck could be cleaned up before coming inside.

At the next meeting, there was a split in the club membership. Most of the members wanted to stop the club’s lifesaving activities because they were an unpleasant hindrance to the normal social life of the club. Some members insisted upon lifesaving as their primary purpose and pointed out they were still called a “lifesaving station.” They were voted down and told if they wanted to save lives, they could begin their own lifesaving station down the coast. They did just that.

As the years went by, the new lifesaving station experienced exactly the same changes as the first. It evolved into a club, and yet another lifesaving stations was founded. History continued to repeat itself, and if you visit that sea coast today, you will find a number of exclusive clubs along that shore. Shipwrecks are frequent in those waters but most of the people drown.

Whether or not this story is factually true or not I do not know, but I can tell you it is true because it happens every day in the life of Christ’s church. It is true in the sense that it betrays something about the human condition. It’s a parable about the nature of human beings. The story reveals something about how people once dedicated to the simple and noble vocation of service to others can, and usually do, get side-tracked into serving themselves. Allow me to tell a true story that graphically illustrates this.

It was the summer of 1979. I had just finished my first year of seminary and was hired as a summer-intern by the Presbytery of Utica, NY to work with several rural congregations. I served a church of 15 members in a small, up-state NY, farming community. The population of the town, including the dogs, was about 90. My first weekend there, a couple from the church gave me the grand tour in their pick-up truck. Driving down a country lane, the woman exclaimed, with an edge in her voice: “Oh, there’s Stanley Kellogg!” Walking down the road, minding his own business, was a stocky, ruddy faced, older man, with a fishing pole in one hand and a bait bucket in the other. “All he does is drink beer and fish,” she said. “He’s an alcoholic, ya know. He’s despicable.”

Stanley had lived in Westdale all his life. He grew up poor – dirt poor. His family lived in a little shanty with dirt floors and no plumbing. Stanley became an alcoholic after his first wife died. He married again, and his second wife died soon after. The locals say he never recovered from the loss. For almost twenty years, old Stanley lived by himself in a tiny tag-along trailer out in the woods. Right after I arrived, the land on which Stanley kept his trailer had been sold, and the new owner kicked Stanley off. A town’s women took in Stanley as a boarder.

One day, I came upon the house where Stanley was staying. No one was home but Stanley. After listening to some very interesting country yarns, I realized this was the man I saw walking down the road with the fishing pole.

As the summer progressed a fascinating thing happened, Stanley and I became friends. It was a curious friendship–really – a rough old rough woodsman and a green “preppy” seminary student. One day someone offered me the use of a boat to go fishing. I invited Stanley to join me. We went to buy some bait and Stanley tried to convince me the day would go a lot better if I bought a 12-pack of Budweiser. I respectfully declined, but secretly admired his tenacity.

Once on the lake he said to me: “Ya know, you’re the first preacher that took me fishing.” I asked him if he had ever been to the church in town. “Nope, never been invited.” “Well, I invite you,” I said.

Shaking his head, old Stanley got an incredulous grin on his face. He didn’t have to say it because his expression said: “You’re mighty naive young preacher. They don’t want me in that church. I ain’t good enough to go to the Presbyterian Church. Preacher, them folk’s use big words and are different from me.” Remembering the woman’s words I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right.

We shared a wonderful day on the lake, and as we pulled the boat to shore he asked: “What time’s that Bible study you teach tonight?” “7:00,” I answered. “Why?” “Oh, just wondering,” he said.

Later that night as I was leading the Bible Study in Fellowship Hall, who walked in but Stanley Kellogg! He even had an old Bible in his hand. I knew how hard it was for him to come. Thinking I was doing a good thing, I asked Stanley to read a few passages from his Bible. An awkward silence fell over the room. Everyone knew something I didn’t. He looked up and said: “I’d like to preacher, but I can’t read.” He was the first person I ever met who couldn’t read.

Stanley and I became close friends that summer, but he never came back to Bible Study. I can’t say I blame him. He took me to his secret fishing spots that he wouldn’t show anybody else. He continually asked me about the Lord: “Can the Lord really love some old drunk like me?” I saw his faith grow and deepen. Stanley responded to my friendship like parched Texas flowers respond to rain.

You must understand that Stanley was the consummate woodsman – he lived off the land. Most of his food he got from hunting and fishing. He always carried a .22 pistol on his belt – “for snakes” – he said. One day Stanley and I were way out in the wilderness on a dirt road. We had been fishing a very remote trout stream. It was almost getting dark, and he yelled: “Stop the car. Stop the car!” I jammed on the brakes, and Stanley ran out of the car and took his .22 pistol out of its holster, and shot twice in the air.

Two raccoons dropped to the ground and grabbing them by the tails and grinning like a school boy, he brought them to my car. “Can I put these in your trunk?” Just what I needed – two bloody dead raccoons in my trunk! “I can sell their pelts for $25.00 each, and buy a new fishing pole.” He never bought the pole.

The summer passed, and I had to return to Seminary. I was to preach my final sermon and attend a going away party after the service. Everyone was seated and worship was about to begin, when who walks into church–but Stanley Kellogg! He had a haircut and shave, and was wearing a brand new set of clothes! He walked down the aisle and sat in the very front row. He was shaking from nervousness. Although he lived in town all his life, this was the first time he had been in the Presbyterian Church. No one could believe their eyes.

Stanley was at the end of the reception line. “Where’d you get those new clothes Stanley?” “Remember them coons?” he said winking. “I ain’t got no present for you David.” It was the first time he didn’t call me “Preacher.” I said: “Stanley, you just gave me the greatest gift you could ever have given me.” Like the people in Exodus who brought offerings of goods and talents to build the Tabernacle – Stanley’s offerings that day consisted of what little he had – two “coon” pelts, and a bucket of gratitude and friendship.

“I’ll never forget you,” He said. “You got me sober.” “No,” I said – “The Good Lord got you sober.” I have never forgotten the day Stanley Kellogg came to Westdale Presbyterian Church or how he touched the life of a young seminarian. I’ve been telling this story for 29 years.

Some years back, I received a letter saying Stanley had died in his sleep. When I first met Stanley, all he owned were two changes of clothes, a tattered trailer, an old greasy hat with some fishing lures in it, some pots and pans, a .22 pistol, a fishing pole, and the Bible his mother left him. In sixty-five years, that’s all the earthly possessions he accumulated. But by the end of the summer of 1979, Stanley had something else–he had the Lord in his heart. See – his heart got “stirred.” When’s the last time your heart was “stirred.”

I tell this story, not to make Stanley into a saint, because he surely wasn’t, but rather to illustrate how the love of God working through simple human kindness can change people’s lives. Many in that church thought it strange that a seminary student would go fishing with the town drunk. But then didn’t the Pharisees criticize Jesus for eating with tax-collectors and sinners? Didn’t Jesus say: “I didn’t come for those who are well, for they have no need of a doctor.” Stanley was never padlocked out of the church–but he was never warmly invited to participate either. So what’s the difference?

Stanley had built up a lot of resentment towards that church over the years. Some of those good Christian people had watched his mother struggle to feed her children. There were nights they were cold and hungry and the church did nothing. For Stanley Kellogg to come to church he had to forgive. Isn’t it amazing what love can do–how it can change the human heart? In his own way–in his own very special way, Stanley said: “Thank-you.” And it reminds us that the Stanleys of the world are all around us. I bet you know where some are right now.

There are certain laws of life under which we all live. The other day I was washing my car. Have you ever noticed that all the birds watch you when you wash your car? “He’s just about done guys–let’s go!”

But there’s another law of life. Human beings, even spiritually motivated ones, have a propensity to lose sight of their calling and get off track by serving themselves instead of others. So–What is your calling – why is your church here? What mission are you called to embrace in this community?

In today’s Gospel story, Peter gets out of the boat and actually walks on water! But then he did what you or I would probably do. He gets so distracted and concerned with the things of the world–the wind, the waves, and the storm – that he loses perspective. From my Christian tradition–here’s the point of the sermon: WHEN PETER TOOK HIS EYES OFF THE LORD HE SANK–AND SO DO WE! If that tradition does not work for you – maybe you can realize that when you take your eyes off you core mission you will sink.

Proverbs 29:18 says: “Without a vision – the people perish.”

So – remember the stories of the Life saving Station and Stanley because they’re connected–they remind us of the remarkable healing power of human kindness.

Leaders of this church–you and this congregation must be a lighthouse in this community – a beacon of hope and care to a world that is lost in the fog of despair – but only if you focus on your mission. I hope you will covenant to be a lifesaving station amidst the troubled seas of these turbulent times. To all members–help this church be a haven for all who are weary from life’s storms, and may you warmly embrace all who seek the safe harbor of the healing fellowship of this caring congregation.

I hope to hear reports that this congregation continues to step out of the boat of familiarity and complacency and that I hear repeated reports that this church is “walking on water.”

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Eunice Benton

District Executive of the Mid-South District

September 27, 2009

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Tom Spencer

August 23, 2009

Thank you for having me back. Today, I am going to present the second part of a sermon on the topic of Honest Religion. More specifically, what does it mean to live honestly as progressive, reasonable, and religious people in the 21st century?

For those of you who were not here – my last sermon started out with a long vamp on why religion makes so many of us nervous and then detoured into speculation about why it really still matters.

I won’t recount the reasons why it makes us nervous – I think it is safe to say that there is plenty of evidence that religion is indeed a very slippery slope… a quick glance through any newspaper usually provides reasonable proof of the abyss that religion can lead to – right?

But, I do want to briefly revisit why I think religion still matters and, more importantly, why I believe an honest religion may actually be our salvation. Now, I know that the word salvation probably makes you nervous too… but let’s all take a few deep breaths and consider the world around us, and what we might need to be saved from…

Let me begin with a brief confession… I am a worrier. I think we live in extraordinarily vulnerable times… I remember watching President Obama step from his limousine on his inauguration day and frankly, I could not catch my breath. At that moment in our history – with an economy in free fall – two wars under way – and a nation deeply divided – I felt as if the world was standing on one foot on top of a steep precipice… all that it would take was one slight shove and the whole edifice of our modern democratic lives could come tumbling down.

Turns out – I am not the only worrier out there… I’m not the only one who frets about what would happen if the “center cannot hold.”

Here are a few verses from a poem that I am sure most of you know… The Second Coming, by William Butler Yeats was written in the gloomy aftermath of the First World War:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

Yeats goes on to describe an ominous apocalyptic spirit waking and walking in the world and concludes:

The darkness drops again; but now I know that twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

Kind of sounds like a health care town meeting, doesn’t it?

All joking aside…

We live in very fragile times – that bond between falcon and falconer has seemed over-taut for a century… things snap, the center cannot hold… wars, economic calamities, climate change, fundamentalism, terrorism, and assassination all threaten our little island of progress and liberalism and relative civility.

Salvation? Yes, I think we need salvation…

Let’s dig a little deeper into Yeat’s poem. In his book, Reverence, Austin professor Paul Woodruff, uses this poem to illustrate the consequences of a lack of reverence in the world – “mere anarchy,” a cacophony of irreverent voices has disrupted the link between falcon and falconer and the center cannot hold.

We’re not talking about talk show and political cartoon irreverence – which, in Woodruff’s view, can often express a very real of reverence for life, reason and truth. No, we are talking about a nihilistic lack of concern for anything – much less life, reason and truth.

The result of this kind of irreverence in our world is indeed a rising tide where “the ceremony of innocence is drowned.” Not innocence itself, though that is sure to follow – but the ceremony of innocence – the reverent ritual of innocence. To my ears, that is beginning to sound like the practice of honest religion.

I do not believe that Yeats is talking about the collapse of religious authority in the way that most people think of it… the kind of authority that issues from literal interpretations of sacred books and religious institutions… No, he is talking about something much deeper and more profound.

The ceremony of innocence is the practice of basic goodness which is informed by and infused with reverence. This reverence may be inspired by ancient texts and religious institutions but it goes well beyond strictures and creeds.

If you were here for my last sermon you will recall that I mentioned that there are two competing theories about the origin of the word religion – one being te Latin “religio” or reverence – the other is “religare” which means to bind together.

Both are essential to the honest religion that I hope for – and that is so beautifully expressed in Yeat’s poem – a reverence that binds and holds us together.

Let’s listen to Yeats again – “the best lack all conviction.”

Where is our conviction? What should we hold in reverence?

In our search is for honest religion – don’t we mean a religion of conviction that we feel in our bones, that makes sense to our heads, and speaks to our hearts?

I certainly think so.

But, even more importantly, and the focus of my sermon today – is that an honest religion needs to move beyond the house of our individual bones, heads and hearts. It needs to live in the world that we share if it is to be our salvation from Yeat’s “blood dimmed tide.”

When I was here last I said that an honest religion must make demands of us – And I believe we must answer those demands with conviction. The ceremonies of innocence those circles of goodness around us, must be widened and become an example to the world.

In my view, there is no certainty in this honest faith except that belief that goodness enacted is God enacted – it means salvation in the here and now – not in some world to come. Though we must act as if that world depends on our every act and breathe, for surely the world of our children and our grandchildren depends on what we do today.

So, here we go – this is the heart of the matter – what does Honest Religion look like when it is enacted? If the ceremonies of innocence are a command performance – how do we perform them?

Here are my ideas- inspired largely by experiences I have had and the deep hunger within me to see the center hold…

First reverence is its essential glue – no ceremony, no belief, no creed, or any other of the human products of honest religion should be our first concern – but cultivating an attitude of reverence should be – only reverence will hold our raging egos and dogmas in check.

Professor Woodruff says it better than I can, “No one owns reverence. It is not cruel or repressive in itself. It does not put down mockery or protect pompous fools. And most important, it cherishes freedom of inquiry. Reverence sets a higher value on truth than on any human product that is supposed to have captured the truth.”

And so reverence also provides that sense of humility that is essential to an honest religion – as I said last time – no certainty that we concoct will ever provide all of the answers – no matter the beauty of our equations or the power of our telescopes, mystery will always – always be with us and so we must be humble – we should never stop inquiring but we should also admit to the limits of our inquiries.

So reverence keeps us humble. But it is also the key to all of the other virtues towards which any honest religion should try to steer us.

Listen to these words from the Analects of Confucious… “Without reverence, courtesy is tiresome; without reverence, prudence is timid; without reverence, bravery is quarrelsome; without reverence, frankness is hurtful.”

Courtesy, prudence, bravery, frankness… to that list let us add compassion, forgiveness, gratitude, humility and dozens more. These virtues are the measure of an honest religion and of human goodness. But only true reverence can counterbalance these human potentials and save us from turning into annoying virtue potentates.

So, honest religion is reverent and humble – it loves inquiry and yet values the limits of what can be known – it sounds like a religion that really values questions and questioning – and yet it demands we move beyond questioning to action – that we embody goodness that we practice the virtues that make goodness and, I would add, God possible.

Because it must be brought off of our book shelves and into the world – an honest religion must also be a communal activity – it is in community that our goodness must be honed, taught, shared, and lived. There is a very real experience of salvation in connection and the bonds of community. That sense of Religare…

Yes, we grow from listening to and learning from one another as well as holding each other accountable, helping each other towards being better people. But perhaps more importantly, and more practically, we need community for survival.

Here is my worrying side again – these are threatening times – terrible things can happen – we need to be bound together in a practical way to support one another through tough times. Think of how quickly things would become uncivilized if, for example, the power went out… after 48 hours without air conditioning I don’t think Texas would be a very civil place.

I often think about the early days of the great religious traditions – the beginnings of both Christianity and Islam. The persecuted Christians of the Roman Empire won many of their converts because of the extraordinary way that they took care of one another in the face of terrible persecution. People learned to admire their charity and their compassion long before they bought into their theology. In the early days of Islam – during Mohammed’s exile in Medina, it was the power of the Islamic community which first attracted the admiration of others, not necessarily the utterances of the prophet.

Today, sadly, there are many Christians, Muslims and others who seem to actively advancing a truly irreverent “end times” theology.

Sad to say it, but I think an honest religion should take them at their word. We should be countering them with our convictions – we need a beginning times mentality that looks at every action as an opportunity to widen the circle of virtue and reverence – Yeat’s ceremonies of innocence.

I think that if we took it seriously – an honest religion born today amid a small group of exiles – could inspire thousands if not millions more to work feverishly for a world that is busy being born – not busy dying.

This can happen by bringing reverence and ritual to the small everyday occurrences of our lives – ritual doesn’t imply spectacle – the earliest ceremony of the new born Christian church was the simple practice of sharing a meal.

You’ve heard me say that an honest religion should make demands of us – well, what if it demanded that we share our meals – not retreat to our separate entertainments. What if is asked that we say grace – or simply give thanks before our meals. Could we bring ourselves to do just that?

I made a new friend recently – a really extraordinary young man. Our conversation was intense and went deep faster than most conversations do – as dinner time approached we went out to a stylish local restaurant, and just as I was about to dig into my genuine interior Mexican tacos, he stopped me and asked if we shouldn’t give thanks.

Shouldn’t we give thanks? In that moment he was doing everything I would hope for from another practitioner of honest religion. He was bringing reverence to our table, he was reminding me that we can be better people through the humblest of acts. Wow… it was so refreshing. A breathe of honest religion between sips of Mexican martini! Talk about your ceremonies of innocence!

Finally, I want to pick up a theme I mentioned in my last sermon. In the year 2009, an honest religion must make sense – common sense. I admit that this boundless universe and the universes beyond are beyond my comprehension – that it is filled with mystery – and unanswered questions. Bu my inability to answer all of the questions shouldn’t empower me to leap to super natural and superstitious conclusions.

When our little corner of our universe is imperiled by our own actions – we do not need to beseech or invoke the supernatural – we need to roll up our sleeves and start doing good.

The only miracle we need to believe in is the one that proclaims that we make God happens when we are kind, when we are patient, when we tell the truth – because anything that lifts up life and virtue and quiets the din of anarchy and nihilism allows the falconers voice to be heard and the ceremonies of innocence to continue.

This is not the God of our fathers. We offer this up as an alternative for a God hungry world whose salvation can only be delivered though one simple act of human goodness at a time.

So, when we stop to give thanks – think of all of those who have preceded us stretching back over the millennia. Be thankful for those who brought reverence and goodness to their work, to their tables, their communities, families, and friends.

Be grateful to those who somehow managed to steer us to this moment in time when we have gathered here to ask questions, to search for honesty, to widen the circles of love and beauty.

When William Butler Yeats wrote the Second Coming, he too sensed a kind of end times. But here we are, ninety years later, having survived so much horror since that time, and we are still heeding the falconers call, still longing for the ceremonies of innocence.

Let us move forward confident in a new beginning – a beginning times illuminated by reverence, humility, community, ritual, and common sense.

May our grandchildren read our words and remember our actions and be thankful that through our conviction we did not surrender to the blood dimmed tide.

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Barbara Coeyman

August 9, 2009

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Tom Spencer

CEO, Austin Area Interreligious Ministries

August 2, 2009

Sermon: Honest Religion Part 1

This is the first of two sermons that I will share with you on the theme of honest religion, a phrase that I have heard in this community and which strikes me as being an essential idea.

Today, I will share some thoughts about why I believe the idea of honest religion is so important, and later this month I will talk a great deal more about what I think an honest religion for the 21st century should look like.

Let me say this strongly right at the outset – I believe that honest religion may be humanity’s best and perhaps last chance of saving itself. More on that in a few moments…

But, speaking of honesty… isn’t it somewhat amazing to many of us that we are still struggling with ideas about faith and religion in the year 2009?

I am taking it for granted that most of us would self-identify as spiritual or religious progressives… and who among us has not wondered to ourselves, honestly, “when will all of that go away?” And when we say “that” we aren’t talking about just old time religion – evangelical, radical, or even reactionary religion – we are talking about religion itself.

Be honest now – How many of you refuse to use the label “religious” when you are talking about yourselves – preferring to use the word “spiritual” instead? Isn’t it more socially acceptable? Doesn’t it just fit more comfortably? I know that in certain circles I have fallen back into that more politically correct stance.

And, don’t we all have secular friends who see religion as the root of all evil and wish it would simply go away now – this very moment?

In fact, there is a small army of newly assertive atheists out there who have turned their disbelief into a cottage industry where they delight in (and profit from) shadow boxing with fundamentalists.

The truth is that each side in that debate is delighted that the other exists… the atheists of the academy with their arch disdain are the perfect foil for the fundamentalists who are only too happy to have atheists banging at the gates. Likewise, the academics relish in the antics of the fundamentalists – it is all so amusing. But what really drives this debate is fear. Fear driven faith needs visible enemies – and fear works as an effective tool in the market and in politics too. All of this sells a lot of books, gets a lot of votes, and fills a lot of pews.

But is there any real honesty in the current atheist / fundamentalist debate? Here is a quote from our fellow Austinite, Dr. Steven Weinberg, the Nobel Prize winning physicist – “Religion is an insult to human dignity. With or without it, you’d have good people doing good things and evil people doing bad things, but for good people to do bad things, it takes religion.”

Really, Dr. Weinberg – religion is the only thing that makes good people go bad? What about crushing poverty? What about patriotism? What happens when love is betrayed? Or, what happens to good people when someone throws verbal hand grenades at traditions they revere? Seems to me we offer each other all sorts of temptations to shed our goodness. Some actually delight in that sport.

And here is a quote from Jerry Falwell, “If you’re not a born-again Christian, you’re a failure as a human being.” …You know, I won’t even bother with a retort for that one.

On and on it goes:

The fundamentalists keep insisting that there is an intervening God who orders every hair upon our heads and who wrote the demise of the Do-Do bird into history before there even was such a thing as history or Do-Do birds.

And the atheists insist that all religion – even “progressive” religion is a mirror of fearful, primitive minds that demand fairy tales to deal with the terrors of existence. They say that all we need is logic and reason – that if we would only educate ourselves, the long march of progress will someday purge us of every irrational impulse. Love itself, I suppose, will lie dissected on a petri dish – understood by its chemical code.

Is that honest? Really? Do you want that world – really? Good luck with that mathematical equation that solves everything. My hunch is that mystery will never, ever, curl up its toes and expire regardless of the beauty of our equations or the power of our telescopes.

A point of real interest for us is that some of the new atheists, like the author Sam Harris, hold religious “moderates” up for special scorn – they argue that religious moderates provide cover and context for the radicals.

This is one of the points I’ll concede to Harris, I actually think he’s on to something here. For example, nearly every “liberal” Christian I know feels queasy about mouthing the Nicean creed or one of its watered down versions in church – and yet millions of them do it every Sunday… declaring before their children their faith in 3rd century concepts of the divine that fly in the face of reason, science and common sense. What is honest about that?

When we recite ancient creeds with our fingers crossed behind our backs, we are on our way down that slippery slope where moderation winks and nods at fundamentalism.

So, where does all of this leave us, in this place and in our search for honesty? Do we dispense with all beliefs that cannot be proved by physical evidence? Or, do we just go “spiritual” hoping that new age vagueness will provide the balm that the age old certainties can no longer deliver?

In some ways don’t you feel that we are right back where I began – don’t you just wish all of this – all of it – would simply go away?

I have struggled with this question for years and my answer is – NO. I don’t want religion to go away – in part, because I know that it never will go away and wishing it would is just as delusional and yes, just as irrational as believing in the legend of Noah’s flood. Sorry, Dr. Weinberg and Mr. Harris it ain’t going to happen.

We see evidence of the allure of religion – even radical religion all around us. Why? Because it is the fate of mankind to suffer and to look for answers to that suffering – we crave explanation and look for that one-encompassing answer.

Mark Lilla is the author of The Stillborn God, a brilliant book which explores the still prevalent attraction of theocracy – that system which unites the “Kingdom” overhead with the kingdom that collects our taxes. In his book he writes, “When the urge to connect is strong, passions are high and fantasies are vivid, the trinkets of our modern lives are impotent amulets against political intoxication.”

What trinkets was he referring to? You’re not going to like this: he’s not talking about cell phones and i-pods, no, he was talking about the bequest of the enlightenment – liberalism, reason, and our notions of progress. He argues, these are impotent amulets when the scales have been tipped and passion and rage are unleashed. Think about the simmering rage in our own nation – the irrational resentment stoked by the angertainment industry of the reactionary right. How does reason reason with that?

Lilla argues that classical liberalism is the exception to the rule – that our progressive little world is the odd man out, that it is imperiled.

So how could I not want religion – that world of passions and vivid fantasies – to go away?

And so, here is the second part of my answer – I don’t want it to go away because I believe that honest religion is neither an evolutionary dead end or a suicide pact – I believe that honest religion is our last best hope to withstand the ever present threat from that other shore described by Mr. Lilla – where alienation, passion and fantasy are being stoked into a raging fire.

The truth is that honest religion can’t inoculate us from every danger in the world – that is the trouble with all religions that promise ultimate deliverance – ultimately they can’t deliver. But, honest religion can help us help one another through the perils we face – it can help us live our lives more deeply and, hopefully, help us to pass on a better world to our children. And what more should be asked of it?

So, how will this work?

Let’s take just a moment to consider the origins of the word religion itself… there are actually two theories about that. One holds that the word religion comes from the Latin, religare which means to bind together – and the other says that it is more closely related to the word religio – reverence.

I think that what we need is a fusion of these two concepts – that only a reverent bond in the form of honest religion can sustain us and strengthen us for the challenges of the 21st century. We need the binding together – the acute awareness of our interdependence – as well as the tempering and humbling force of reverence.

What does this look like in practice here on the ground, in this place? Well, let me be very clear about this – if religion is to be honest it must make demands of us.

I remember having a conversation some years ago with University of Texas Professor, Paul Woodruff, who wrote a beautiful book about reverence. In this conversation he really opened my eyes to the critical distinction between what most of us call spirituality and religion. I had invited him to participate in a taping about “spirituality” thinking that that word would be more acceptable to an academic than “religion” – but, much to my surprise he bristled and said that he rejected spirituality. Taken aback, I asked him why, and he said he felt it was a “conceit that makes no demands of you.”

This is a powerful insight. Don’t many of us think of spirituality as an adornment or as a commodity? Dr. Woodruff’s rebuff helped me realize why spirituality is so popular – it’s because it is, like so much else in our culture, disposable – you can toss it away when it becomes an inconvenience. And what is more inconvenient that something that demands your attention 24/7.

And shouldn’t an honest religion demand our attention? I certainly think it should – I don’t think honest religion is something you pull from a bookshelf when you’ve got a few moments to spare or are feeling spiritual. But we need to recognize that paying attention is the most counter-cultural thing we can do in 21st century America. We live in the age of distraction – not the age of information. We have made careers and an entire economy out of not paying attention.

However if our’s is to be a religion that really binds our world view, holds us together as a community, awakens reverence within us and helps us to embody it – to live it– then, yes, it should demand our attention. But demand our attention to what end?

First and foremost – the test of honest religion should be whether it actively helps us to become better people – to be kinder, more compassionate, more patient, more generous, and more grateful – in short, more virtuous. Honest religion should have one great purpose and that is nurturing human goodness… a goodness that attracts goodness to it – that inspires reverence and awakens a deep gratitude.

Only through human goodness can we be saved – after all we are the ones who are messing everything up – and now, with our life-giving planet endangered, we need goodness enacted more than ever. This is the real promise of honest religion. My friend Michael Benedikt says that God is the Good We Do. I say Amen. That is honest.

An honest religion should also be humble – because none of us will ever be purely good, there will always be a need for humility as well as a well-developed practice of forgiveness and contrition. It is a difficult balancing act, but an honest religion should remind us of our imperfections and help to sustain our aspirations simultaneously.

An honest religion should also make sense – common sense. While our humility should remind us that there are things that we can never know – there is no reason to embrace supernatural theories that fly in the face of first-hand experience. The following quote from Buddha says it better that I could: “Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.”

Another way to say this might be that honest religion should not require theological trampolines. Sure, it should appeal to our heads and, yes, our hearts, but its real business is in helping us to ask better questions and to live better lives not in making up myths about crystals or how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.

And, speaking of dancing, I believe that an honest religion should speak to our bodies as well as our heads. Enacting or embodying our reverence is an essential part of honest religion. I recently returned from a long trip to Turkey where the call to prayer echoed across the cities five times a day – imagine that – stopping your busy life five times a day to say thank you. Frankly, I found myself feeling inadequate because I had no way to share my own reverence in that beautiful communal and physical manner.

The most important part of the ritual comes right at the beginning – you stop, stand, clear your head and silently declare your intentions. You then give thanks and praise – wishing peace to those who stand to right and peace to those on your left – you bow, kneel, touch your foreheads to the ground together.

Let me be clear – and honest – about the call I feel in my own heart: I want to stand shoulder to shoulder with brothers and sisters – to bow, kneel, and pray with them – but when I do, I want to speak in words that that reflect the realities of the world as we see it and experience it every day. Here in the 21st century.

Frankly I long for this kind of honest religion. And I believe that if it existed as a living community – a real binding of brothers and sisters who practiced goodness and shared reverence– it could, by example and deed save the world.

I’ll have a great deal more to say about what honest religion might look like in our lives in my next sermon on the 23rd of this month. But for now, I will close with this thought …

The real question for those seeking an honest religion is simply this – would we honor it? How would we respond to it if it were to spring to life right here before us? Would we embrace it, or, inconvenienced by its demands, would we come to wish that it too would simply go away?