The Ancient Roots of the Liberal Spirit

Home / Sermons / Audio available / The Ancient Roots of the Liberal Spirit

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

© Davidson Loehr

SWUUD Spring Conference

26 April 2008

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

PRAYER:

(Adapted from “Prayer Before Birth” by Louis MacNeice)

I am not yet born; O hear me.

I am your tomorrows, but I am not yet born.

I am not yet born, console me.

Protect me from the doubts that strangle, the fears that stifle,

the friends who drain and demean.

I am not yet born; give me dreams of what we may yet become,

and nourish me, that I do not starve before I gain the strength to walk,

and to fly, and perhaps even to soar with the eagles.

I am not yet born; O hear me,

Protect me from those who can remain big only by keeping those around them small, for I am yet a fragile thing.

I am not yet born; O fill me with strength

against those who would freeze my humanity,

who would make me into a thing, a mere thing,

who would dissuade and drain me until I lose my spirit,

and then my soul, and then my hope,

and your hope as well.

For I am the greater you who is not yet born,

And together we must strive, must strive with the gods if necessary,

for so much is at stake, there is so much to be gained.

I am the you who is yet to become,

and I am not yet born.

Help me.

SERMON: The Ancient Roots of the Liberal Spirit

The soul of liberal religion is not a new thing. Even professors of religion often speak as though it had been born in the late 18th century, in the work of the great German theologian Friedrich Schleiermacher. But Schleiermacher – as he knew – was a late-comer.

The spirit of liberal religion – which is opposed to the spirit of literal religion – is at least four thousand years old. It’s not new at all. It had multiple births, and I want to talk about some of those births this morning.

First, it was born in the world’s oldest story, the still-magnificently modern story of Gilgamesh. He ruled over 4700 years ago, and the earliest texts of the story are from 4100 years ago – before any of today’s great religions or philosophies had been born. They saw themselves as living in the “modern age,” because writing had just been invented there a hundred years earlier. And they asked of what use were the old gods to modern people. They decided the gods had become impotent ornaments, but that the meaning and purpose of life – which were now up to us – were still immeasurably rich, and close at hand: through the deeds we do, the positive differences we make, the art and music we create, the love and joy we can share with families and friends, and the influence we can have on those who will come after us. There in that most ancient story was a religious vision more courageous and unfettered than that of any Western religion.

But as writing both evolved and spread, others saw themselves as living in modern times. If they traveled enough to learn about other cultures, they could now reflect not only on the day’s gossip, their era’s guesses at enduring truths, but could also see that people in other times and places saw things quite differently, and lived with comfort and passion over quite different assumptions.

You know how the liberal spirit of deeds not creeds was born in the Hebrew prophets, but I want to talk about some traditions you may not know as well, because we tend to be quite provincial and think that our religious spirit originated in 16th century Transylvania or 19th century New England.

That liberal spirit was born at least twice in China.

First, in Confucius, who was concerned not with gods but with our selves here and now. And he saw that our mistake was that we conceived of ourselves as far too small, whereas our biggest and most necessary self only exists as part of the larger society around us. So our job, he believed, is to learn the care and respect that make our relationships with others flow smoothly.

There is a story from 13th century Neo-Confucianism about this kind of transcendence. Confucians were very determined not to have any supernaturalism in their practice, so they were quite upset when their Master said that today he would be talking about magic. Angry but polite, one of them raised his hand to ask what the Master might mean by that objectionable word, “magic.” The Master sighed. “Oh,” he said, “I can go into that, but it will take some time.” Then he leaned toward a student in front, and asked if he’d get him a glass of water. When the student returned, the Master took a sip of water, then said, “That was magic. He did my bidding, without threats or bribes, simply because I asked him to and he wanted to do it. That is the kind of magic that makes our interactions with others flow smoothly, and it is the magic we need to learn.” Why is this liberal? Because like all good religion, it’s about behavior, not belief. Nobody cares what we believe.

Lao Tzu also gave birth to the spirit of liberal religion, the spirit of deeds not creeds, in Taoism, when he wrote one of the finest moral teachings in history:

What is a good man but a bad man’s teacher?

What is a bad man but a good man’s job?

If you don’t understand this, you will get lost,

However intelligent you are.

It is the great secret.

(Stephen Mitchell translation)

Why is this the spirit of liberal religion – or simply the spirit of honest religion? Because it links us to something eternal, without insulting our intelligence or confining us to the teachings and biases of any one religion. Its insights transcend theology and resonate in the hearts and heads of all people. Here are some other quotations from Lao Tzu’s book, the Tao te Ching. See how liberal, and how modern, they sound and feel:

“Must you value what others value, and avoid what others avoid? How ridiculous!

“The great Way is easy, yet people prefer the side paths. Be aware when things are out of balance. Stay centered within the Tao. When rich speculators prosper while farmers lose their land; when government officials spend money on weapons instead of cures; when the upper class is extravagant and irresponsible while the poor have nowhere to turn – all this is robbery and chaos.

“Let the Tao be present in your life and you will become genuine. Let it be present in your family and your family will flourish. Let it be present in your country and your country will be an example to all countries in the world. Let it be present in the universe and the universe will sing. How do I know this is true? By looking inside myself.” This is very close to the Hindu notion of how our atman, or individual soul, is part of Brahman, or the creative forces of the universe.

I think, page for page, the Tao te Ching is probably the wisest book ever written.

Then we can go to the Greeks, who also had a non-theistic approach.

Xenophanes (570 – 480 BC), criticized the religious literalism of his day in words that still ring true. He had traveled a lot, seen a lot of cultures and religions, and noticed the psychological projection in all religions. Here’s some of what he said, over 2500 years ago:

“Mortals suppose that gods are born, wear their own clothes and have a voice and body. Ethiopians say that their gods are snub-nosed and black; Thracians say that theirs are blue-eyed and red-haired.”

And he added that if horses and oxen had hands and could draw pictures, their gods would look remarkably like horses and oxen.

And then there’s Socrates, still generally regarded as the greatest of all Western sages. It’s hard to imagine the effect Socrates had on people, though we know that he was finally condemned to death for asking his disturbing questions that were more profound than his society’s answers. But we have the eyewitness testimony of a man named Alcibiades, who was shaken to his core.

According to Alcibiades, Socrates” questions bite the heart like a viper, and provoke in the soul a state of philosophical possession, delirium, and drunkenness.

“I was in such a state that it did not seem possible to live while behaving as I was behaving…. He forces me to admit to myself that I do not take care for myself.” That’s what religious prophets do, though few in history have done it as well as Socrates.

Socrates believed that an innate desire for the good exists in all human beings. Here was a profound and specific assertion about why we have inherent worth and dignity, at least if we’ll let that deep awareness command us.

Socrates described himself not as a philosopher or teacher, but as a midwife, helping to give birth to the greater possibilities he believed dwelled within us, waiting to be called forth.

For all the Greeks, humans suffer because they are ignorant of the way to live. Ignorance – as in Buddhism – is the fundamental human sin.

Even for the Epicureans, those who are seen as affirming the joy of pleasure, but who really believed that we should be equally happy with simple pleasures as with expensive ones. Even the Epicureans were taught always to act as though Epicurus were watching them.

This was echoed a few centuries later by the Romans, who taught that we should live “under the gaze of eternity,” which meant to live as though all the noblest people, the greatest souls, were watching us, then to do only what we would be proud to do under that gaze. It’s hard to improve on that as a one-sentence guide to living ethically and morally.

Another liberal thinker named Plotinus (204-270) used the metaphor of sculpture to talk about how we should form ourselves. “If you do not see your own beauty yet, do as the sculptor does with a statue which must become beautiful: he pares away this part, scratches that other part, makes one place smooth, and cleans another, until he causes a beautiful face to appear in the statue. In the same way, you too must pare away what is superfluous, straighten what is crooked, purify all that is dark, in order to make it gleam. And never cease sculpting your own statue, until the divine light of virtue shines within you.”

Probably my own favorite spiritual and psychological center came through the Paideia culture of ancient Greece. You may not know the odd word “paideia,” but you know its ideals. The Greeks believed that the best kind of humans were both born and made. Breeding mattered – after all, all their mythic heroes were imagined as the offspring of a human parent and a god. But the noblest humans were also made, by shaping them in the image of the highest ideals the culture could articulate. That meant the most sacred treasures in ancient Greek culture were those collective ideals so high and commanding that they bestowed a dignity of character on both gods and humans. The collective noun for these highest ideals was paideia. It was in the root of their words for both children and education, as it still is for us (e.g., pediatrics and pedagogy). Mortimer Adler started a “Paideia Project,” and there are still a few Paideia Schools around, including one in Austin. But mostly, we know of this ancient project of “salvation by character” through the Romans.

When Cicero read of the Paideia culture, he realized that the Romans had neither the word nor the concept for these noblest forms of humans that could be made through shaping their character in the image of transcendent ideals. The word he coined to translate “paideia” into Latin was perfect: humanitas, which means the essence of being most fully human. It was the root of all our liberal Humanities education, those courses now fading from our schools, designed to bring us near the intersection of that place where our full humanity and our full divinity merged, like the ancient mythic breeding of the human and the divine. All of these ancient teachings so far were done without using any gods, yet they are among the most profound in human history. they’re timeless and inclusive, and beyond theology or the limits of any one religion in ways that Western religions” Yahweh, Jesus and Mohammad are not.

The spirit of liberal religion, of that greater self to which we should try to give birth, was also born twice in India, in Hinduism and Buddhism.

Here are just a few quotes from the Upanishads, written about 2200 to 2500 years ago:

“Know that [the creative power of the universe] is forever a part of you, and there is nothing higher to be known. It is found in the soul when sought with truth and self-sacrifice, as fire is found in wood, water in hidden springs, and cream in milk.

“If you deny this power, you deny yourself. If you affirm it, you affirm yourself.” This is almost identical to the teaching attributed to Jesus in the Gospel of Thomas, where he says, “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth with destroy you.” It is profoundly liberal. And though it doesn’t require any gods, it does require great integrity and personal courage.

Then a final thought from the Upanishads, which may strike you, as it has struck many others, as profoundly happier than most religious teachings:

“[The creative power of the universe] is joy: for from joy all beings have come, by joy they all live, and unto joy they all return.”

The Hindu and Buddhist notion of karma is a lot like Socrates” notion of how our lives take the shape of the quality of ideals we are serving. As the Upanishads say, As we act and behave in life, so we become. If we do good, we become good; if we do evil, we become evil. By pure actions we becomes pure; by evil actions we becomes evil. You can feel how close this is to Greek thought – some scholars believe the Greeks got it from the Hindus – by remembering one of the most famous of Greek sayings, attributed to Aristotle but perhaps being much older: “Plant a thought, reap a deed; plant a deed, reap a habit; plant a habit, reap a character; plant a character, reap a destiny.” Hear how modern this is: it’s existential religion, like Buddhists talking about our duty to nurture the Buddha-seed within us, or the Christian Meister Eckhart talking about the God-seed within us, and how we should help it come alive and define us.

Now a paragraph or two about Buddhism. This terribly quick romp through some of the world’s great, deep and complex religions is not meant to be flippant; it’s trying to fly over a lot of territory to show that the patterns are profoundly liberal to the core, and profoundly empowering and commanding, as all honest religion must be.

The Buddha grew out of, and away from, Hinduism. He taught that we just need to wake up from the illusions we create for ourselves through our ways of talking and thinking. When we wake up, the world won’t be perfect or ideal, but it will be real, and we can find our real place in it.

Every one of these ancient religions and philosophies is concerned with how to live, how to become the person we can be most proud of having been. And every one of them finds the power to do this within us, rather than through pleading with an external deity for it. All believed we must tune ourselves to a higher frequency, align ourselves with an enduring or eternal order, serve others, see ourselves as small parts of a much larger reality. But the power to do this was always within us. We were not missing pieces, not missing parts. We were born as a mix of good and evil, but basically good, though we’re ignorant of the thing we need to know, which is that we have the power to become the kind of people we can be most proud of. We also have the responsibility. The gods won’t do it for us. we’re not saved, not made whole, through believing this or that – only through being.

Perhaps the best that preachers and churches can do is aspire to the role of Socrates, to be midwives and help us give birth to the greater possibilities within us, and to do it – as Alciabiades testified – whether we like it or not.

The soul of the liberal spirit is about waking up – waking from dogmatic slumbers, but also waking from lethargic slumbers that don’t or won’t look beneath the surface of life into its more complex – and darker – depths. That waking up is an individual calling, challenge, task and achievement. It’s the birth of our individual soul from the globular mass of our class, our social identity, our political or sexual or racial identity, to ask who we are – individually, personally, really, beneath all those other important but secondary influences that help to shape and mis-shape us.

You can feel the depth, presence and power of these questions, can’t you? They have always had that power of birthing our better selves, once they grab hold of us enough to wake us up.

We await and yearn for that kind of birth, that level of being “born again, born of the Holy Spirit.” How can it happen? “We can only hope,” some say. But Socrates and the rest of our liberal predecessors wouldn’t buy that, and neither should we. Perhaps we can only hope, but not only only hope – not only only hope.