No God But You and Me

This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper at First Unitarian Church in New Bedford. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2006 Daniel Harper.

Readings

The first reading is from Without God, Without Creed: The Origins of Unbelief in America, by James Turner.

“On an autumnal day in 1869, Charles Eliot Norton sat down in his Swiss resort to write to his friend and confidant John Ruskin. Norton moved with ease among the most eminent writers of England and America. Son of the distinguished Unitarian theologian Andrews Norton, he had helped to found the magazine Nation and had recently retired as editor of the North American Review. He counted among his intimates James Russell Lowell, Thomas Carlyle, John Ruskin, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Frederick Law Olmsted, and shared friendships as well with such men as Charles Darwin, John Stuart Mill, Charles Dickens, Louis Agassiz, and Oliver Wendell Holmes. Few men were as well positioned to register the early tremors of any slippage in the primordial strata of Anglo-American culture.

” ‘There is a matter on which I have been thinking much of late,’ he confessed to Ruskin. ‘It does not seem to me that the evidence concerning the being of a God, and concerning immortality, is such as to enable us to assert anything in regard to either of these topics.’ As he tried to sort out the implications of his loss of faith, Norton wondered, ‘What education in these matters ought I to give my children?… It is in some respects a new experiment.’

“It was in many respects a new experiment. For over a thousand years Europeans had assumed the existence of God. Their faith might be orthodox or heretical, simple or complex, easy or troubled — and for serious, thoughtful people, it was very often troubled, complex, even heretical. Yet failing to believe somehow in some sort of deity was not merely rare; it was a bizarre aberration. Then, in Norton’s generation, thousands, eventually millions of Europeans and Americans began to abandon their belief in God. Before about the middle of the nineteenth century, atheism or agnosticism seemed almost palpably absurd; shortly afterward unbelief emerged as an option fully available within the general contours of Western culture, a plausible alternative to the still dominant theism.” [pp. 1 ff.]

The second reading is from the Christian scriptures, Matthew 12.28. In this passage, the radical Jesus has gone to Jerusalem, and has already upset the authorities.

“One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ — this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

So end this morning’s readings.

SERMON — “No God but You and Me”

Just to warn you: this is the first in an occasional series of sermons this year on Unitarian Universalist beliefs about God.

Growing up as I did, a Unitarian Universalist in the 1960’s and 1970’s, the dominant religious influence in my life was religious humanism — or, as some people prefer to term it, religious atheism — the religious position that says that there is no God, no divine power of any kind, nothing supernatural about the world. I grew up in a church where most of the church members did not believe in God. Even though our minister at the time was an avowed Unitarian Christian, to the best of my recollection he never tried to impose his particular understanding of God on the congregation — not that it has ever been possible to impose such understandings on Unitarian Universalists.

Not that I had all that much to do with the minister of the church. As a child, my church experience was mostly shaped by Sunday school classes, by adults who were friendly to me, by children’s chapel, and, later on, by youth group. We learned about God in Sunday school, to be sure. We were even given Bibles when we got to fifth grade. We had no pictures on the walls of the Sunday school classrooms that supposedly represented God. If we wanted to believe in God, that was fine; and if we didn’t want to believe in God, that was fine, too.

When I was older and a part of the church youth group, we talked about all kinds of things, including God and whether or not each of us believed in God. Our youth advisor was the assistant minister of the church, and as it happened he did believe in God. (In fact, he later left Unitarian Universalism and became a minister in the United Church of Christ, although he later told me the reason he switched denominations had nothing to do with theology and everything to do with the fact that the United Church of Christ was more active in prison, which struck me as a very Unitarian Universalist sort of attitude.) The discussion from my youth group days that I remember most vividly had nothing to do with God; it was a discussion of Zen Buddhism, and ko-ans, and satori or enlightenment. When I was in youth group, I was much more interested in understanding what it meant to achieve enlightenment, than I was in arguing over God’s alleged nature or existence.

I tell you all this by way of an excuse. The end result of my upbringing is that I’m not particularly interested in arguments about whether or not God exists. When someone tells me that she doesn’t believe in God, I’m likely to respond, What are the characteristics of the God in which you do not believe? When someone tells me that he does believe in God, I’m likely to respond in much the same way, What are the characteristics of the God in which you do believe? In asking these questions, I have found that there are nearly as many descriptions of the characteristics of God, as there are believers and non-believers combined. That doesn’t make me any more or less likely to believe in God myself, but it does make me far less likely to argue with someone over the existence or non-existence of God, because more often than not the person you argue with is arguing about a different God than you are arguing about. Such arguments seem fruitless to me. Such arguments seem like a kind of idolatry, where idolatry means attributing too much importance to something, an importance far beyond its actual worth.

Now I’ve made my excuses about why I’m not particularly interested in arguing with you about whether or not God exists. Yet I remain very interested in the way different beliefs about God affect how people act in the world. And I suspect that my indifference to arguments about God’s existence, and my interest in how beliefs affect people’s actions, has very much to do with the fact that I was surrounded by humanists and atheists when I was a child. The humanists and atheists I knew didn’t give two hoots about what you believed, but they cared a great deal about what you did. And the humanists and atheists I knew were staunchly opposed to idolatry in any form; they taught me that action is always more important than belief.

The Unitarian Universalist humanists I have known have all cared deeply about what people do with their lives. I have a theory about why this is so. As Unitarian Universalists, we are heirs to the great traditional of liberal Western Christianity. The liberal Christian tradition in the West has emphasized one teaching above all others. Other Christians have emphasized the mysteries of the Trinity, or the rules by which Christians are supposed to live, or they have emphasized the final fate of humanity, or humanity’s sinfulness, or fear of a vengeful God, or the liberating power of a God who’s on your side, or Jesus as Lord and Savior, or one of many other aspects of Christianity. But liberal Christians have emphasized one simple teaching, summed up in the words of Jesus that we heard in the second reading: “The first [commandment] is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'”

Those of you who are particularly observant will have noticed that Jesus says a few different things in this passage. First, being a good observant Jew, Jesus recites the Shema Yisrael: “Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad” — and forgive my bad pronunciation of the Hebrew. “Shema Yisrael,” which means: Hear O Israel; “Adonai,” a word we translate as “Lord” and which is substituted because it is improper to say the true, proper name of God aloud; “Eloheinu” meaning roughly “our god,” as long as you remember that this isn’t a name of God; “Echad,” which tells us that God is one, or that Jesus pays homage to God alone. This prayer formula, which comes from the book of Deuteronomy chapter 6 verse 4, is something Jesus would probably have said each and every day when he prayed.

Then Jesus adds the next verses from Deuteronomy, as was likely done by Jews in his time as it is by Jews in our time. In Deuteronomy, the story is told that God says to Moses: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” Jesus knew this old story about Moses. So after repeating the Shema, that’s what Jesus says next: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.”

This is the first of two great commandments that liberal Christianity inherited from Jesus, who inherited it from Moses and the ancient writers of the book of Deuteronomy. When certain Unitarian Universalists chose no longer to believe in the God of Moses, or the God of Jesus, then as inheritors of this tradition, they were left with the second great commandment of Jesus, to wit: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

This second great commandment also comes from the books about Moses, this time to the book of Leviticus, chapter 19, verse 18. In this part of Leviticus, God is speaking to Moses, giving rules for good and moral conduct, and God says, “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am [Adonai].” Or, as Everett Fox more dramatically translates it, “You are not to take-vengeance, you are not to retain-anger… but be-loving to your neighbor (as one) like yourself: I am [Adonai].”

Remove God from liberal Christianity, and what is left is this second commandment, this powerful moral injunction: Love your neighbor as yourself. Do not take vengeance, do not retain anger: be loving towards your neighbor who is another human being like yourself. And this has proven to be an adequate foundation on which to build religious humanism in the Unitarian Universalist tradition. Indeed, this has proven to be an adequate common ground for Unitarian Universalism as a whole to maintain its integrity as a coherent religious tradition, in spite of the fact that we differ widely in our views of the divine. The liberal Christians among us still repeat the other parts of Jesus’s dictum, that God is one and to love God with all your heart, etc.; and they say, love your neighbor as yourself. The Jews among us might still affirm that passage from Deuteronomy (or they might not); and they say, love your neighbor as one like yourself. The Pagans among us might pay homage to the Goddess, and they would say treat other beings with the respect you yourself are due. The humanists among us see no need for any gods or goddesses, and they affirm that we must love one another as we would ourselves be loved.

I sometimes think that could more difficult to be a humanist and not believe in God, than to be someone who believes in a God or gods or goddesses. If the universe does not include some sort of benevolent higher power, perhaps it is harder to maintain one’s faith in the goodness of the universe, and particularly the goodness of human beings. For if there is no higher power, if it’s just you and me, then who are we to blame for evil? Love other people as we would love ourselves — those are fine words to say, but in a world filled with evil, it may be hard to live those words into reality. Ours is a world in which some people torture other people; when I read the horror stories of what torturers do to fellow human beings, I find it difficult or impossible to love those torturers as my neighbor. Whereas perhaps if there is a god or goddess, he or she or it would perhaps be able to love even torturers. Or what about people who engage in genocide? –how am I supposed to love them? If there is no higher power, if it’s just you and me, then you know who we must blame for evil — we must blame humanity, we must blame ourselves.

So we come to one of the great teachings of the humanists. The humanists have taught us that we must take full responsibility for our own actions. We cannot blame evil on God, or on the devil, or on mischievous spirits. We human beings have to take responsibility for evil, because ultimately evil is caused by us human beings.

The great gift that we all have received from the humanists, from the atheists, is a great big mirror. Instead of looking up at some abstract heaven for answers, the humanists have taught us all that we should look in a mirror first, and ask ourselves for the answers. That also means looking in the mirror and seeing our own limitations. We are limited beings; we don’t have all the answers. Even if you believe in God, or in goddesses and gods, or in some kind of higher power, you must learn how to know yourself; and next you must learn how to love yourself; and you must also learn how to love your neighbor as yourself. All this comes from the great gift that humanists have given to all of us.

I said earlier that the humanists and atheists I knew were staunchly opposed to idolatry in any form; where idolatry means attributing too much importance to something, an importance far beyond its actual worth. It is fine if you are someone who finds God indispensable to your understanding of the universe; I know that I cannot understand the universe without some sort of higher transcendent power. It’s fine if you are a theist who believes in God, but religious humanism teaches us that to love your neighbor as yourself is of first importance; actions are more important than beliefs; what you do with your beliefs is far more important than the niggling little details of whatever beliefs you might have.

Jesus reduced his religion to two great commandments, but the second is greater than the first. Yes, you should love your God (or goddess, or the universe) with all your heart, mind, and being. But then, love your neighbor as yourself. The first commandment cannot be complete without the second commandment. If you believe in God, the only way to prove that you truly are a believer is to love your neighbor as yourself. If you are a humanist, and you believe that there is no God but you and me, you still show your devotion in the same way: by loving your neighbor as yourself.

Ecofeminism

This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2006 Daniel Harper.

Readings

The first reading is from the Christian scriptures, from the book called Matthew, chapter 6, verses 24-30.

“No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you — you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’… But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

The second reading is from Starhawk’s book Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex, and Politics. I take this second reading to be deeply related to the first reading.

“The image of the Goddess strikes at the roots of estrangement. True value is not found in some heaven, some abstract otherworld, but in female bodies and their offspring, female and male; in nature, and in the world. Nature is seen as having its own inherent order, of which human beings are a part. Human nature, needs, drives, and desires are not dangerous impulses in need of repression and control, but are themselves expressions of the order inherent in being. The evidence of our sense and our experience is evidence of the divine — the moving energy that unites all being.”

So end this morning’s readings.

SERMON — “Ecofeminism”

One of the things that I like best about Jesus of Nazareth — that is, the Jesus whose words we can find in the Bible as opposed to the Jesus that the established church has constructed — is that Jesus constantly challenges us to think more clearly and to feel more deeply. So Jesus preaches to his followers:

“Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Today, we might add that the birds of the air use no fossil fuels in order to feed themselves, and the only waste products they emit are biodegradable and nontoxic. Jesus goes on: “And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.” And Jesus’s words take on additional meaning in the 21st century when you think about the energy it takes to manufacture clothes, and ship clothes from the distant countries in which they are now mostly manufactured. Jesus goes on: “If God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you — you of little faith?”

If you have been coming to church over the past three weeks, you know that I have been preaching a series of sermons on feminist theology, and today’s sermon is the last, and I might say the culminating, sermon in that series. If you were here two weeks ago, you heard how feminist theology became our most important theological stance in the 1980s, and you heard about how feminist theology underlies the so-called “seven principles,” which have become the most widely-used affirmation of faith among us, and therefore I said that feminist theology has become central to who we are now. But I also pointed out how the feminist theology of the 1980’s has problems and limitations, and I described how a younger generation of women, especially working class women and women of color, have pointed out some of those problems and limitations. And that old 1980’s feminism really doesn’t have much to say about the ecological crisis that we are in the midst of now. Today I’d like to speak with you about ecofeminism, and I’ve saved ecofeminism for last because I believe ecofeminism addresses these problems and limitations, and I believe ecofeminism should be a central theology for us Unitarian Universalists.

Which brings us to the second reading this morning. Starhawk, a Neo-pagan and the author of that second reading, is one of the best-known ecofeminist theologians alive today. In that second reading she writes, “True value is not found in some heaven, some abstract otherworld, but in female bodies and their offspring, female and male; in nature, and in the world. Nature is seen as having its own inherent order, of which human beings are a part.” In other words, Starhawk is saying that we don’t have to wait until after we die to enter into some disembodied heavenly state. We’re there here and now. We can find true value in our own bodies. We can find true value in the world and in nature. Actually, there is no real separation between our bodies (our selves) and nature, because we are a part of the inherent order of the world.

That’s a pretty radical thing for Starhawk to say. Western Christianity and Western culture have been telling us for centuries that our souls or minds are more important than bodies. Western culture tells us that there’s a separation between our minds and our bodies, and that our bodies are less important than our minds; and Western Christianity tells us not to worry about suffering here and now, because one day we’ll get to go to heaven. But Starhawk says that true value is found in our bodies, in nature, in the world; we’re already a part of it; true value is here and now.

And like many ecofeminists, Starhawk tells a story of how we got to the point where we are now. This ecofeminist story is based on archaeological and anthropological research, and it goes something like this:

Before humans invented agriculture, the archaeological record shows that we got along pretty well. Back then, human beings were reasonably healthy, and the hunting-gathering life didn’t take up much of our time so we had plenty of leisure. Maybe we did some gardening, too, but we weren’t engaged in intensive agriculture. Then some bright human invented agriculture. Once agriculture became the way we got our food, the archaeological record shows that overall health declined. Archaeologists find a greater incidence of illness and disease, and they find that agriculturalists were on average four inches shorter than hunter-gatherers. In addition, the invention of agriculture seems correlated with several other inventions: slavery, economic exploitation of the majority of humanity, devastating wars, and (dare I say it?) the emergence of monotheism, that is, the belief in one single male god.

That’s the scientific story. Some Christians and some Neo-pagans tell this story a little differently. They tell a story about an ancient time when humankind lived in balance with the rest of the world. Some of these Christians tell the story of the Garden of Eden, a time a place where the first humans didn’t have to work by the sweat of their brows, and didn’t have to wear clothes, and generally had a lovely time. In this Christian story, those first humans violated God’s law by eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, that is by knowing too much. Because they knew too much, those first humans got kicked out of the paradise that was the Garden of Eden; and this is known as the Fall.

Some Neo-pagans tell a different, but related, story about an ancient time in human history when women were in charge of human society. At that time, we human beings lived in harmony with the earth and in harmony with our own bodies. In this Neo-pagan story, someone invented domination, whereby one human being (usually a man) dominates another human being. This led to slavery, exploitation of the earth, and a lower standard of living for everyone except a few wealthy men; and this kind of domination is known as patriarchy.

The Christians tell us that we can’t go back to the Garden of Eden; Neo-pagans like Starhawk tell us that we really can’t go back to living the way they did in the old matriarchal societies; the archaeologists tell us that we can’t go back to living as hunter-gatherers. So what went wrong? And how do we find a way out of this mess?

Not that I believe that there can even be a final answer to these questions, or to any serious question about the fate of earth and humanity. Year after year, century after century, individuals have claimed to have the one true final answer to life, the universe, and everything; and year after year, century after century, human beings have fixed one problem only to have a new problem emerge somewhere else. That is the way of growth and evolution and change. To use an ecological metaphor, there is no single climax state of the forest in which the forest ecosystem settles down into some perfect unchanging heavenly state. Random fluctuations of weather, chance mutations in certain species, interactions with nearby ecosystems, all lead to change. Change is the only constant, accompanied by growth and evolution.

Yet if change is the only constant, then we should be able to change things for the better, rather than letting them get worse. And ecofeminism offers some profound religious insight into our current mess, and offers hope that we might be able to grow, and to change things for the better. In that spirit of hope, let us ask what ecofeminism can offer us.

Ecofeminism tells us that domination has helped get us into the current mess. So if we look at the Western Christian tradition, we find this idea that God allegedly told humankind that human beings have dominion over all other living things; and then God said that men have dominion over women; and next thing you know you have variations on the theme of domination like slavery and oppression of ethnic minorities. Even if one form of domination doesn’t follow another form of domination chronologically, all these kinds of domination are linked together: human domination of other living things is linked to patriarchy or the male domination of women, which is linked to slavery or the domination of some human beings by other human beings, often along racial or ethnic lines.

Needless to say, domination and exploitation go together. If a woman’s place is in the kitchen where they don’t get paid or compensated for their work, whoever is dominating them is also exploiting them. And when human beings dominate the total ecosystem to meet our short-term needs without paying attention to the survival of other species, that sounds like exploitation to me.

As Unitarian Universalists, we claim that we affirm the inherent worth and dignity of all persons. I take that to mean that we will not affirm the domination of some human beings by other human beings. So, for example, if we affirm that women have inherent worth and dignity, then we will not put up with men dominating women. If we affirm that people of color have inherent worth and dignity, then we will not put up with white people dominating people of color. To say that we affirm the inherent worth and dignity of all persons means that we won’t put up with domination. We won’t put up with one person dominating another, yet we are willing to go further than that and say that we won’t put up with human beings dominating other living beings.

So, too, do we affirm respect for the interdependent web of life of which we are a part. We are not comfortable with domination, no matter what form it might take. Any religion rooted in dignity and respect for other beings is a religion that cannot tolerate domination and exploitation. So it is that I say we Unitarian Universalists are ecofeminists — or, at least, we are in the process of becoming ecofeminists, for I’m not sure we’re quite there yet.

Because once you start thinking like an ecofeminist, it really changes the way you think about religion. Your whole religious landscape shifts. You become suspicious of the way the old religious texts have been interpreted, so that when you hear about how God told humankind to have dominion over other living beings, you get suspicious and you wonder if there might not be another interpretation of that old Bible verse. You become suspicious of your whole Western religious tradition, so that when you hear about a God who is always referred to as “he” and “him,” you begin to wonder why we don’t also refer to God as a Goddess whom we refer to as “she” and “her.” You become suspicious of people who tell you that it is “natural” for men to have power over women, just as you become suspicious of people who tell you that it is “natural” for people with white skin to have more power than people with darker skin — and when they tell you that the Bible says that men should have dominion over women, you become suspicious of the way those people are interpreting the Bible.

And that can lead us to challenge the old religious interpretations. So Starhawk challenges us to give up those old notions of heaven as some abstract, otherworldly place. She challenges us to find true value in women’s bodies here and now, and to find true value in male and female bodies that come from women’s bodies. She tells us that we don’t need to be estranged from our bodies, or from each other, for we human beings are inherently part of the inherent order of nature. She tells us to trust the evidence of our senses, and find evidence of the divine in the moving energy that unites all living beings, unites all things. We challenge the old religious interpretations, and we find freedom: the freedom that comes when we don’t allow our thoughts to be dominated by some abstract authority, the freedom that comes when we shake off the bonds of slavery or servitude imposed on us by someone else. We challenge the old religious interpretations, and we find deep interconnectedness: we are interconnected with each other, male and female, all races and ethnicities, and dominating someone else only harms us; we are interconnected with all nature, and we can’t dominate nature without dominating and enslaving ourselves as well.

This brings us back to those enigmatic words of Jesus, which end with Jesus saying, “But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Traditional religious authorities have interpreted this to mean that we should strive to get into heaven, some time after we die, and then, like the lilies of the field we too will be clothed like King Solomon in all his glory. When Jesus talks about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, generations of church-goers interpreted these words as referring to heaven, to some perfect state of being that will come to us (if we behave ourselves) after we die. Wait for death, enter into that disembodied state known as heaven, and you too can become like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. When you’re in a disembodied heaven, it’s easy for the heavenly father to feed you and clothe you if you’re disembodied. In other words, suck it up now, be meek and mild and don’t be bothered when others dominate you, and after you die you’ll get your reward.

But what if generations of church-goers and the old traditional religious authorities are completely wrong? What if Jesus is actually telling us to resist domination and to live with dignity, in harmony with each other, respecting the earth and all living beings? What if he is telling us that we can have heaven here on earth, if we choose to do so?

That’s what you get to do if you’re an ecofeminist. You get to discard those old traditional religious interpretations, and try to get at what Jesus was actually saying. Strip away to creeds and dogmas of the centuries, and perhaps what Jesus really said was to strive for the kingdom of heaven, so you can live in harmony with the world — in the same way that the birds of the air, and the lilies of the field, live in interdependent harmony with the world. That possibility exists here and now. Nor is this some pie-in-the-sky utopian vision, for the lilies manage to do it here and now.

Not that I’m going to claim that Jesus of Nazareth was an ecofeminist theologian, because he wasn’t. Nor am I going to say that any contemporary ecofeminist, including Starhawk, has the final answer to our problems, because they don’t and she doesn’t. We don’t need a final answer, we just need a direction in which we can travel. I think ecofeminism offers us a direction that all of us — women and men, people of color and white people, Christians and Pagans and humanists — a direction in which we can travel together to get out of this mess.

It’s not like I’m just making this up. Many of you have told me that you know domination is everywhere: men dominating women, white people dominating dark-skinned people, super-rich dominating everyone else, humankind dominating other living beings. You have told me that domination no longer works, that it’s just creating mass extinction of species, ongoing violence against women, racism, and miserable lives — and many of you have told me pieces of how to put an end to it.

So I’m just piecing this together for you. We know what to do. We know this is a religious matter, and we know that our church, good old First Unitarian in New Bedford, is one of the religious institutions that can address this matter. So what if we’re a small church. So what if there’s only forty of us here this morning. So what if we’re a little disorganized, and some of us are tired, and all of us are busy. What we need is an ecofeminist movement happening. When there’s a hundred of us in here on a Sunday morning, we can start building coalitions with like-minded groups. We’ll get lots of kids in here so we can get them to understand this at a young age. Then when there’s four hundred of us, the local politicians will have to start paying attention. And when there’s a thousand of us, we can….

Now, I just know what someone is going to say to me at coffee hour — “Well, Dan, I just don’t know, I don’t think we’ll ever have a thousand Unitarian Universalists, not in New Bedford.” Well, my friends, the evangelicals are building a megachurch in the northern end of our city and they plan to build a membership of two thousand or more people, in order to save a few disembodied souls….

…Surely we Unitarian Universalists can come up with a thousand people who will work towards a world of dignity and respect for all living beings, and earth made fair, and all her peoples one.

No excuses, now.

Which Sexual Revolution?

This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper at First Unitarian Church in New Bedford. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2006 Daniel Harper.

Readings

The first reading is from the book Make Love, Not War: The Sexual Revolution: An Unfettered History by David Allyn, a scholarly history of the sexual revolution in the 1960’s and 1970’s. In this excerpt, Allyn seems to be posing the question, “Whose sexual revolution was it, anyway?” He writes:

‘In the radical organizations of the New Left, women found that they were often taken for granted: they were expected to answer phones, cook meals, do laundry, and provide sexual companionship — in other words, to be secretaries, housekeepers, and concubines. Male radicals were often as sexist as their own fathers were…. [And] male hippies in communes were not much better than their activist counterparts. Former hippie Elizabeth Gipps says, “I remember screaming one day when the men were theoretically meditating while the women were cleaning the floors around them.”…

‘By many accounts, young men in the sixties were indifferent to their female partner’s sexual needs. One woman recalls, “Of course, most guys expected you to ‘put out’ just because they bought you dinner. But every time I had sex I felt like I was dealing with someone from another planet. They guys just didn’t get it. They wanted instant gratification…. Once I asked a guy to [give me an orgasm] while we were making love and he looked at me like I was certifiably insane.”…’

The second reading is from the Bible, the Song of Solomon chapter 7, verses 10-13, a book of the Bible that praises the delights of lovemaking:

I am my beloved’s,
and his desire is for me.

Come, my beloved,
let us go forth into the fields,
and lodge in the villages;

let us go out early to the vineyards,
and see whether the vines have budded,
whether the grape blossoms have opened
and the pomegranates are in bloom.
There I will give you my love.

The mandrakes give forth fragrance,
and over our doors are all choice fruits,
new as well as old,
which I have laid up for you, O my beloved.

SERMON — Which Sexual Revolution?

Those of you who come to church each week may notice that I’ve been doing a series of sermons exploring the dimensions of feminist theology. This is the third sermon in that series.

There’s a joke among Unitarian Universalist ministers that in our churches it’s easier to preach about sex than about money. We do have the reputation of being one religious tradition that is quite willing to talk openly about sex and sexuality. That reputation has a certain amount of truth in it, for we have no religious belief that sex and sexuality are evil. If someone quotes Bible passages that allegedly prove that sex is evil, we Unitarian Universalists are likely to quote other Bible passages that prove that sex is fun and good. We heard one such Bible passage in the second reading this morning, a passage from the Song of Solomon. The Song of Solomon is one of the sexiest poems in our culture, thus proving our point that the Bible is sex-positive.

Indeed, some of our critics have suggested that once upon a time we were overly enthusiastic in our embrace of the sexual revolution. After all, we feel that women and men should have the right to use the contraception of their choice; we feel that we should rely on individual women to exercise their individual consciences to determine whether or not to have an abortion; we do not believe that premarital sex is a sin; we do not believe that homosexuality is a sin; and we believe that women and girls are just as good as men and boys. Each of these views conflicts with the religious views of some other religious traditions.

When we say that we embraced the sexual revolution, we should really ask ourselves, Which sexual revolution did we embrace? Did we embrace the sexual revolution that says, “When it comes to sex, anything goes”? — and there are people who say, or at least imply, “Well, but if you allow gays and lesbians in your church, next thing you know you’ll be having orgies in the sanctuary on Sunday mornings.”

I must inform you, however, that that isn’t true. I have never seen an orgy in a Unitarian Universalist church. In fact, I have to say that on average the Unitarian Universalists I know are more straight-laced than the North American. Yes, we affirm that sex and sexuality are a normal part of who we are — yes, we affirm that sex and sexuality are an integral part of our religious selves — but affirming these things does not logically lead to the conclusion that we have orgies in church.

At the same time, there is a grain of truth in the accusation that Unitarian Universalists did engage in the part of the sexual revolution that said, “When it comes to sex, anything goes.” Some Unitarian Universalists had some wild times in the 1960’s and 1970’s and, I’m afraid, even into later decades. In this sense, we are no different than the wider population. Yet we are different from the wider population, for one simple reason: feminist theology and feminist thinking have been perhaps the most important force within Unitarian Universalism since the late 1960’s.

So it is that there are many parts of the sexual revolution that we can, indeed, affirm: that individuals have the right to use contraception, that individual women have the right to decide whether to have an abortion, that sex and sexuality are natural and normal, that women and girls are just as good as men and boys, and so on. Feminist theology can give us a good, solid grounding for our views on sex and sexuality. What we have to do is to tease out the several different strands that ran through the sexual revolution, to figure out what it is that we can affirm based on feminist theology, and what we may want to reject based on feminist theology. To make this a little more clear, I’d like to tell you a bit of the story of a typical Unitarian Universalist church, the church that I grew up in, and what happened in that church as it went through the years of the sexual revolution.

When I was a child — this was in the 1960’s — our church had a young, dynamic minister. Although the congregation had been older and graying, this young dynamic minister supposedly attracted younger families, many with children, to the church. On the whole, everyone thought he was a good thing for the church.

At some point in the late 1960’s, however, opinion began to turn against him. Some said they didn’t like him because he had become an outspoken opponent of the Vietnam War. Others hinted that something darker was going — one woman told my mother, “If only you knew what I know about our minister!…” Whatever the cause, or causes, attendance began to drop. By 1970, when my father was the head usher, he remembers that there would be only forty or so people on a Sunday morning, where there used to have two hundred people. By 1971, that minister had been forced out. All this happened when I was a child, and I don’t remember much of it myself.

In late 1974, my older sister started going to the youth group at the church. By the winter of 1975, she had talked me into attending as well. She hadn’t been going to the youth group before that fall, and I had stayed away as well. I don’t remember exactly why we stayed away from church in those years, but I do remember that prior to 1975 I perceived the youth group as filled with scary kids who did lots and lots of drugs and had lots and lots of sex. I guess if you’re a little older than I, the sudden availability of drugs and sex in the 1960’s might have seemed exotic and liberating; but for many people around my age, drugs and sex also became associated with certain amount of fear. One of my best friends had almost been sucked under by drugs in sixth grade, and I still remember talking to an older girl who had lost her virginity at sixteen and who said, “Sex really isn’t that great,” with a tone of voice that said more than the words themselves.

But back then, my perception was that the sex and drugs had been cleaned out of our church’s high school youth group sometime before 1974, which made it feel safe enough for me to join. The new assistant minister was our youth advisor, and he was the one who told me about the accusations against the minister who had ostensibly been fired for his stance against the Vietnam War. The assistant minister said, “Didn’t you know that he had been having sex with someone in the congregation?” I hadn’t heard that accusation before.

Since then, I have wondered how many of the accusations about the youth group were true. Were those kids really having lots of sex and doing lots of drugs? Or were the teenagers a convenient scapegoat for people to blame when they could not talk about the minister’s alleged indiscretions? I don’t think I’ll ever really know the truth of what went on.

Meanwhile, there was another revolution going on all around me, the women’s liberation movement. I still remember when the little bright green hymnal supplements appeared in the pews. It contained some of our most familiar hymns rewritten to remove gender-specific language. I remember hearing about women ministers for the first time — not women ministers from the musty past, but women ministers who were active right then, in nearby Unitarian Universalist churches. Not only that, but there were two women in our own congregation who were preparing to be ministers, and who were duly ordained by our church — although those ordinations happened after I had left home for college.

And women were taking on increasingly prominent leadership roles in the congregation. When my mother first joined that church, she was invited to be on the Flower Committee, and later was invited to teach Sunday school — traditional women’s roles in that church, and in many churches. (For the record, she tried joining the Flower Committee, but soon quit in a certain amount of disgust — in her own way, Mom was an early feminist.) But fifteen years later, when I was in the church youth group, it was becoming more and more acceptable for women to serve in any leadership role in the church. I should rephrase that: by fifteen years later, women had insisted on breaking down the barriers of discrimination that had existed in church leadership.

So it is that I myself witnessed at least two revolutions within my own church. One sexual revolution centered around what used to be called “free love.” Another revolution, a feminist revolution, centered around women’s liberation. These two revolutions have been linked together in the popular imagination, but as I experienced them they were quite different. The so-called “free love” that I witnessed involved little or no feminist awareness. The feminist revolution, at least the part of it that I witnessed, was not about having lots of sexual intercourse, it was about women fighting to gain some measure of equality with men.

As I said earlier, I’m not telling you this not because you should care that much about my personal experiences, but more because I think that my experiences were not uncommon among people who grew up in liberal churches. Indeed, when I talk to some other people my age who grew up in that time, they have much more outrageous stories than I do — adult youth group advisors who were sleeping with kids in their youth groups, churches where the lay leaders played at “wife-swapping,” ministers who were sleeping with many women and men in their congregations, open marriage workshops at churches, and on and on. I’m afraid we have to admit that our Unitarian Universalist churches, and liberal churches in general, sometimes went past the boundaries of acceptable sexual behavior.

So where are those acceptable boundaries of sexual behavior? That is a question that I am just beginning to answer. One thing that helped me make sense out of the sexual revolution was a scholarly study called Make Love, Not War, the book by David Allyn that was the source of the first reading this morning. One of Allyn’s most interesting insights is that the sexual revolution can mean different things to different people. Some of the sexual revolutions that Allyn identifies include:

— wide availability of birth control pills, thus allowing women to have more control over whether or not to have children;
— a growing acceptance of premarital sex;
— a series of legal decisions that broadened First Amendment protections to include works previously defined as “obscene”;
— experiments in free sex, group sex, open marriages, and group marriages;
— the end of laws banning interracial marriages;
— growing acceptance of masturbation as a normal expression of sexuality;
— the increasing commercialization of sex and sexuality;
— the erosion of the “double standard” that said that men could sleep around but women were supposed to remain monogamous;
— homosexuality getting changed from something that was considered shameful into gay liberation and gay pride.

When I began to look for acceptable boundaries of sexual behavior, I realized that women experienced the sexual revolution differently than men did, as we heard in the first reading this morning. Improved birth control supposedly freed women to enjoy sex in new ways — yet, as often as not, women remained mired in traditional, repressive gender roles, providing sex, and doing the cleaning while the men were supposedly meditating.

So when I began to look for acceptable boundaries of sexual behavior, I realized that a good question to ask is this: How did the different aspects of the sexual revolution affect women and girls? Some aspects of the sexual revolution improved the lives of women (and really the lives of men too): access to birth control, the end of interracial marriage, acceptance of masturbation as normal, broadened First Amendment rights, equal rights for gays and lesbians, the end of the double standard. Other aspects of the sexual revolution did not improve the lives of women and girls. The ever-increasing commercialization of sex and sexuality has not made women’s lives better; instead, commercialization of sex has tended to dehumanize women, to turn women into commodities, into things. Free love and open relationships may have made some women’s lives better, but all too often free love and open relationships have been used as excuses by men to have sexual escapades. Back in the 1970’s, when they called it “wife-swapping,” the fact that it wasn’t called “husband-swapping” pretty much lets you know that it was the men who ran that show. Free love and open relationships have often proved to be harmful to the well-being of women and children in other ways: when free love and open relationships lead to the break up of stable homes, children can suffer emotionally, and women can suffer financially.

So it is that not every aspect of the sexual revolution has been good for women. And the insights of feminism and feminist theology can help us sort out which parts of the sexual revolution we might want to affirm, and which parts of the sexual revolution we may choose to be more critical of.

Sex is a beautiful, wonderful thing. We could say with equal correctness that sex and sexuality are gifts given from God; or say that sex and sexuality are a natural part of human experience and are affirmed in the most ancient religious traditions. However you choose to word it, sex and sexuality cannot be considered evil; they are good. When you read religious texts about sex, like the Song of Solomon, you also realize the incredible power in sex and sexuality.

It is a power that we have to continually learn to use for good: a power that can bring us closer to the ultimate truths of the universe. As is true with anything that powerful, it can also be used for evil. From the perspective of feminist theology, sex and sexuality are evil when they are used to control or harm another person. Thus, sex and sexuality are evil when they cause one person to ignore another person’s humanity; they are evil when they are used to hurt or injure another person.

Then we can move beyond a narrowly woman-centered theology to draw wider conclusions. When homosexuality is used as an excuse to beat up and shoot gay men, as happened last winter at Puzzles Lounge here in New Bedford, that’s an example of sexuality being used to evil ends. When marriage between people of different skin colors is illegal, that’s an example of sexuality being used to evil ends. When same sex marriage is made illegal, that’s an example of sexuality being used to evil ends. In each case, the sexual revolution has worked to end evil, has worked as a force of good in the world.

Drawing inspiration from parts of our religious tradition like the Song of Solomon, and drawing inspiration from our own positive sexual experiences, I’d like to be able to say that we have a sex-positive religion. We can affirm sex and sexuality as an essential part of our selves. We can affirm sex and sexuality when it makes us more fully human. We can go further, and affirm sex and sexuality that go so far as to provide divine experiences. Yet feminist theology also helps us to understand where we can draw firm boundaries, so that sex and sexuality remain positive, life-affirming experiences for all person, no matter what your gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation; no matter who you are.

So may it be.