Category Archives: Theology

Singing

This afternoon, I drove to Providence to the monthly Sacred Harp singing. Sacred Harp is one branch of an American shape note singing tradition which dates back to the Boston composer William Billings in the late 18th C.; it is an indigenous polyphonic sacred choral music tradition that left New England in the 19th C., migrated to the Appalachians, survived into the 20th C. in the deep South, whence it migrated back to New England in the 1970s.

A dozen of us sat around singing our hearts out for three hours. In Sacred Harp singings, the people who are singing choose the songs to sing. It was time to end; what should the last song be? Someone suggested we sing number 183, “Greenwich”:

  Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
  To mourn and murmur and repine,
  To see the wicked placed on high,
  In pride of honor shine.

  But oh, their end, their dreadful end,
  Thy sanctuary taught me so,
  On slipp’ry rocks I see them stand,
  And fiery billows roll below.

It’s a lovely song to sing, but one of the tenors said it should not be our last song. Smiling, I said, “You don’t want to be left with that last vivid image as you drive home?” and she replied, “Well, that’s what I believe in, but we really should sing a different song for a closing.” Still smiling, I decided that it was not a good time to reveal that theologically I am a post-Christian Universalist. Then someone suggested that we close with “Christian’s Farewell,” which is slow and easy to sing, and which has words that were altogether more appropriate for a closing song:

  Brethren, farewell, I do you tell,
  I’m sorry to leave, I love you so well.
  Now I must go, where I don’t know,
  Wherever Christ leads me,
  The trumpet to blow….

While singing this, it occurred to me that there are some Unitarian Universalists who would refuse to sing any of these Sacred Harp songs, because they would object to the theology. But that would be like refusing to go into Notre Dame in Paris, because it is a Papist abomination. I sang my heart out, and loved every minute of it, theology notwithstanding:

  Here I have worked, labored a while,
  But labor is sweet if Jesus doth smile.
  When I am done, I will go home,
  Where Jesus is smiling,
  And bids me to come.

Sometimes you do theology, and sometimes you just sing.

An alternate definition of religion

Amazingly enough, the battle between the atheists and the theists is still going strong. Someday, perhaps the atheists will realize that all they are doing is playing the Christian game, by letting the dominant Christian tradition define what religion is. So here’s an alternate definition of religion, from the introduction to The Twenty-first Century Confronts Its Gods: Globalization, Technology, and War, a collection of scholarly essays edited by David J. Hawkin (SUNY Press, 2004):

It is difficult to define what religion is. It seems easy enough at first: most would say that religion entails belief in a god or gods, involves ritual and worship, and has a system of beliefs…. Yet this definition does not include, for example, Theravada Buddhism, which does not have a transcendental being in its belief system. Nor does this definition reflect that in popular usage the term “religion” is used very broadly (as in, for example, references to New Age “religion”). Paul Tillich recognized this when, in Dynamics of Faith, he defined religion as being grasped by an “ultimate concern.” What Tillich meant was that for most people all other concerns are preliminary to a main concern that supplies the answer tot he question, “What is the meaning of my life?” What makes this primary concern religious is that it is the primary motivating concern of one’s life: it makes an absolute demand on one’s allegiance and promises ultimate fulfillment. Using this definition, we may distinguish three types of religion. First, theistic religions, in which the object of ultimate concern is a transcendental being (as in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam). Second, non-theistic religions, in which the object of ultimate concern is some higher principle or abstract power (as in Theravada Buddhism and some types of Hinduism). Third, secular or quasi-religions, where the object of ultimate concern is such that it resembles theistic or non-theistic religions. What the person holds as ultimate concern gives that person’s belief a character (often unintentional) similar to that found in more traditional religions.

I’m not sure that my own faith community, Unitarian Universalism, fits neatly into this broad-brush typology of religions, since we have both theists and non-theists. You could argue that what holds Unitarian Universalism together (if indeed something is holding us together) is a higher principle, thus plunking us into the category of non-theistic religions. I’d be more likely to argue for a fourth category that mixes theistic and non-theistic approaches to religion. In any case, the real point is that the atheist/theist debates only work within the context of the first type of religion, the theistic religions; and we’re not a theistic religion; therefore the atheist/theist debate is a waste of time within Unitarian Universalism.

Loomer says: Web of life = Kingdom of heaven

When speaking of the “Web of Life,” most Unitarian Universalists today would not make an immediate connection to Jesus’s Kingdom of Heaven. But Bernard Loomer, a liberal theologian who taught at the University of Chicago and then at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, did make such a connection. Loomer said:

Jesus has been according many titles. He has been called Savior, Leader, Shepherd, Counselor, Son of God, Messiah. But his intellectual gifts have not been recognized (even when the term “intellectual” has been more carefully defined). It was he who discovered what he called the Kingdon of God — what I call the Web of Life — surely one of the great intellectual and religious ideas of the western world.

As I define it, the web is the world conceived of as an idefinitely extended complex of interrelated, inter-dependent events or units of reality. This includes human and non-human, the organic and inorganic levels of life and existence.

Jesus discovered the reality of the Web. He began his public ministry by announcing its presence and its fuller exemplification (the “coming kingdom”)…. [Unfoldings: Conversations from the Sunday morning seminars of Bernie Loomer, 1985, First Unitarian Church of Berkeley, pp. 1-2]

Thus Loomer connects the ecological concept of the Web of Life with the theological concept of the Kingdom of Heaven:– intellectually and religiously speaking, the two concepts are the same thing. And the moral and ethical challenges facing us have to do, not with getting into heaven in the future, but with a “fuller exemplification” of the Kingdom here and now.

However, says Loomer, conventional Christian theology has lost this intellectual insight of Jesus, partly by de-emphasizing the Synoptic Gospels (those three books that actually tell of Jesus’s life) in favor of later writings:

When you come to the Gospel of John and the writings of Paul something has changed. In the Synoptics, Jesus is not the central reality. The Kingdom is the central reality. He [Jesus] describes this reality, but the Kingdom does not exist for his sake. He serves the Kingdom and draws his power from it The Kingdom was not created because Jesus was of supernatural origin. The Kingdom was never created. The discovery was that the Kingdom is a given of life itself. It was not created by Jesus. It was not created at all. It is simply inherent in life itself. Its actuality is simultaneous with existence. [Unfoldings, p. 2]

At an ontological level, I believe what Loomer is trying to tell us is that the Web of Life, the Kingdom of Heaven, and God are identical in this way — each of these was not created, but always is and was and shall be. While the dogmatic humanists and the dogmatic liberal Christians among us may find this distasteful for their various reasons, I find this to be a very useful theological point, with profound moral and ethical implications. Loomer goes on to say:

Sin is a distortion of our relations to God and to each other. Forgiveness is a restoration to those relationships. In sinful acts we act against the Web of Life. In seeking repentance we open ourselves to the forgiveness that is already there, as a fundamental condition of life. We make ourselves accessible to it, or it accessible to us. We are related to each other through the Web. Those others have free choice as to whether they will accept our forgiveness or not. In all cases we are trapped with an inescapable web of connectedness. [Unfoldings, p.3]

Loomer goes on to add that it doesn’t matter whether or not you believe the Web of Life is impersonal, or whether you believe it is personal:– you still have to face up to the reality of the need for forgiveness. Furthermore, as social beings we humans also exist within a “social web” and thus forgiveness requires “at least one other.”

Loomer’s remarks interest me for two reasons. First, while many of us talk about the Web of Life, there’s not enough serious reflection on the moral implications of the Web (and saying something like “The Web of Life means we have to care for the planet Earth” is not a serious reflection, it is merely trite). Second, while I have sensed a strong connection between Jesus and ecological theology, Loomer articulates it better than I have heard it articulated elsewhere.

(a) poet, (b) philosopher; pick one

This judgment of Ralph Waldo Emerson is reported by Julia Ward Howe in her Reminiscences: 1819-1899:

“Theodore Parker once said to me, ‘I do not consider Emerson a philosopher, but a poet lacking the accomplishment of rhyme.’ ”

Coming from Parker, who could at least pretend to be a philosopher/theologian, that’s a fairly harsh thing to say. After she reports Parker’s bon mot, Howe, who considered herself a poet, goes on to add her own judgment:

“This may not be altogether true, but it is worth remembering…. The deep intuitions, the original and startling combinations, the sometimes whimsical beauty of his illustrations,– all these belong rather to the domain of poetry than to that of philosophy…. Despite his rather defective sense of rhythm, his poems are divine snatches of melody….”

I think Howe and Parker are right: Emerson is more of a poet than a philosopher. Since Emerson remains the most important philosopher/theologian of North American Unitarianism, that has some interesting implications for who we are today.

Glad to be a Universalist

Recently, Carol and I have been coming face to face with the machinations of manipulative, amoral people — different people for each of us. No, they’re not church people. No, I’m not going to go into details — there’s no need, anyway, because no doubt you’ve had your own experiences with such people, and you know what goes along with those experiences: frustration, sense of betrayal, hurt, sometimes even despair. Suffice it to say that it can be discouraging.

It’s times like these when I’m glad I’m a Universalist. People are the way they are, a mixture of good and evil. But in the end, the most powerful force in the universe is Love. Some of the old Universalists used to say that God is love; which sounds like a theistic formulation, though if you’re a humanist you can also take it to mean something like “what we used to call ‘God’ is now better understood as ‘love’.” Whatever works for you; metaphysical speculations don’t particularly interest me. The point is that manipulative, amoral people can fight against the power of love for a time (sometimes for their whole lives), but it takes lots of energy, and it diminishes their lives. And the point is that I don’t need to exhaust myself wishing for revenge upon them in the form of sending them to some eternal torment; for in wishing such a thing, I would be as manipulative and as amoral as are they.

Nope, it’s good being a Universalist, because I have the ultimate comfort of knowing that even if manipulative amoral people happen to be causing harm in my life, their influence can only be transient — because the permanent truth of the universe is love.

As always, your mileage may vary….

Universalist “conversion” experience

Turns out Julia Ward Howe was emotionally a universalist, and had a fairly emotional “conversion experience”. When she recalled the moment when she discovered liberal religion, she emphasized the joy she found in the universalism of her Unitarian faith:

“Who can say what joy there is in the rehabilitation of human nature, which is one essential condition of the liberal Christian faith? I had been trained to think that all mankind were by nature low, vile, and wicked. Only a chosen few, by a rare and difficult spiritual operation, could be rescued from the doom of a perpetual dwelling with the enemies of God, a perpetual participation in the torments ‘prepared for them from the beginning of the world.’ The rapture of this new freedom [i.e., her new Unitarian faith] of this enlarged brotherhood, which made all men akin to the Divine Father of all, every religion, however ignorant, the expression of a sincere and availing worship, might well produce in the neophyte an exhilaration bordering upon ecstasy. The exclusive doctrine which had made Christianity, and special forms of it, the only way of spiritual redemption, now appeared to me to commend itself as little to human reason as to human affection. I felt that we could not rightly honor our dear Christ by immolating at his shrine the souls of myriads of our fellows born under the widely diverse influences which could not be thought of as existing unwilled by the supreme Providence.” [Reminiscences: 1819-1899, p. 207; gender-specific language in the original, obviously.]

One last comment: I believe that many newcomers to Unitarian Universalism today experience the same kind of joy at their discovery of this liberal faith as did Julia Ward Howe. Theological details may differ, but the joy at realizing that no one is going to be damned to eternal punishment still remains fresh.

Water cooler conversation

“Hey, didja see it on YouTube?”

“What?”

“That crazy preacher guy. You know, the religious leader that presidential candidate follows?”

“Oh yeah, him.”

“What a nut case. Ya know what he said? He said, ‘You impostors. Damn you! You slam the door of Heaven’s domain in people’s faces.’ [1] What’s up with a preacher saying ‘damn you’? Isn’t that swearing?”

“Huh. I didn’t know he said that.”

“Yeah, doesn’t it sound like he’s a communist or something? I saw this other video clip where he said, ‘Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.’ [2] Hey, in my church I learned that you gotta earn your daily bread. This preacher sounds like a goddam Commie who wants to give everything away to homeless.”

“Jeez, he sounds like a radical nut.”

“You don’t know the half of it. He also said the peacemakers are children of God. [3] You know what that means — he’s one of those anti-war nuts that wants us to pull out of Iraq and leave it to the terrorists. Anyway, that’s what Brush Limburger said on his radio show.”

“Christ, that’s pretty bad.”

“Well, it gets worse. If you look at those picture of him, he looks like a hippie nut, with that long hair braided down his neck. And I’m telling you, he doesn’t look exactly white, if you know what I mean. Like maybe he’s Middle Eastern, where all these terrorists are coming from. [4]

“Hoo, boy. You think the guy is a terrorist?”

“Hey, all I know is he doesn’t like us Americans. There was this other YouTube clip of him preaching, and he said, ‘How much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you?’ [5] You can lay money on it that he wants to bring down the American government. [6]

“Man. Thanks for telling me all this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to keep America safe. No way am I going to vote for anyone who follows a religious nut like that — I’m a good law-abiding Christian, not some kind of Commie peacenik who wants to bring down the American government.”

“They should just execute guys like that.”

———

Notes:

[1] Words of Jesus of Nazareth, Matthew 23.23, Scholar’s Version translation.
[2] Words of Jesus of Nazareth, Matthew 5.4, King James Version.
[3] Words of Jesus of Nazareth, Matthew 5.9, from the King James Version.
[4] Scholars generally agree that Jewish men in Jesus’s time wore their hair long and braided; as for Jesus’s skin color, it could have been a light to medium brown.
[5] Words of Jesus of Nazareth, Mark 9.19, New Revised Standard Version.
[6] Not to belabor the point, but Pilate accused Jesus of being “King of the Jews,” i.e., a possible political threat to the government.

Another model for churches, pt. 6

Part 6 in a series. Read Part 1.

Institutional consequences of belief

I believe that one of the fundamental impulses that has driven me to move towards the concept of missional liberal churches is my experience of institutions as incarnate expressions of religion. In our postmodern world, we hear over and over again people saying how they are “spiritual but not religious,” meaning that they see no need to participate in a religious institution in order to carry out their spiritual lives — so many people are saying this that we are inclined to believe that it must be true.

Yet in postmodern mass society, we are increasingly atomized, separated from one another by divisions of time and space. One of the givens of postmodern life is that most of us no longer have any real roots in a place; the globalized economy means that we may have to move to a new location every few years, or if we are restricted to staying in one location, we may have to change employers every few years, so that we are commuting an hour away from home, now in one direction, now in another direction. For most of us, home life and work life are so separate that the people we see at home are completely different from the people we see at work; and completely different from the people whom we might see when we go shopping, or when we engage in leisure activities. There are very few people in the postmodern world whose daily activities fully integrate home, work, and all aspects of life.

One reason we come together into voluntary associations in the postmodern world is to find something of the sense of community that used to exist in actual communities where people lived, worked, and played together. This reason is added to the other reasons why we might come together into voluntary associations: to clear a metaphorical space for ourselves; to join our voices together to affect public policy; and, in the case of the voluntary associations that are missional liberal churches, to incarnate our religious visions. But those who claim that they are “spiritual but not religious” challenge us to consider whether we might be able to do this on our own, without any church at all.

James Luther Adams proposes that we should look for “God” (the quotes are his), not in individual practice, but in communities:

Charles Peirce, the American logician and teacher of William James, has proposed that an idea becomes clear only when we determine the habits of behavior that follow from it. We have seen that the meaning of the religious-ethical idea of Agape becomes clear only when we determine the habits, personal and institutional, that follow from it.

On the basis of this method of observation we may state a general principle: The meaning of “God” for human experience, and the meaning of response to the power of God, is to be determined in large part by observing the institutional consequences, the aspects of institutional life which the “believers” wish to retain or change. Paul, Aquinas, Luther, Munzer, and Roger Williams all use the words God, Spirit, love. But these realities and concepts assume quite different meanings for these men, differences that can be discriminated in their various conceptions of the appropriate forms of state, church, family, school, and society, and in the corresponding interpretations of social responsibility. Adams, ed. Beach (1998), 160-161

One obvious consequence of what Adams says is that anyone engaged in an individual spiritual practice must be careful to remain self-aware and monitor what habits of behavior are developing from the individual spiritual practice; those of us who remain in religious communities will also receive such feedback from others in that community. but this is a minor consequence.

There is also a major consequence that arises when persons eschew religious community in favor of solely engaging in an individual spiritual practice. As Adams points out, we can determine the meaning of “God” for someone by observing the institutional consequences and the aspects of institutional life which the “believers” wish to retain or change. At the extreme, someone who does not participate in religious community may express by his or her habits of behavior that “God” means only personal experience; thus “God” becomes solely effective in terms of personal salvation, but is rendered ineffective in any kind of redemption for humankind in general. This represents one extreme of American evangelical religion, where the only concern is with personal salvation, and there is no concern with the social gospel or the social efficacy of religion.

Next: Conclusion: missional liberal churches

Another model for churches, pt. 5

Part 5 in a series. Read Part 1.

Metaphorical and physical turf

Earlier, I said that voluntary associations offer space in which human freedom can thrive. Adams tells us that such spaces are both metaphorical and quite real:

In a modern pluralistic civilization, society is constituted by a variety of associations and organized structures. The constituent organizations cannot function if they do not have turf. Even in order to hold meetings an organization must have a place of meeting and also office space. Anyone who has experience in these matters knows that the recurrent and acute problem for many a voluntary association is the payment of the rent and the telephone bill. A ‘warrior’ friend of mine used to say that any organization worth its salt will have to face this crisis repeatedly, the crisis of being obliged to pay the rent or ‘vacate’.”

If we expand the term space metaphorically, we can say that a pluralistic society is one that is made up of a variety of relatively independent and interdependent ‘spaces.’ An effective organization… must be able, standing on its turf, to get a hearing if effective social criticism, or innovation and new consensus with respect to social policy, are to ensue. Adams, ed. Stackhouse, On Being Human Religiously, p. 57.

From this we can see a number of practical implications for our churches. At the most basic level, our churches, as voluntary associations, need a place to meet — physical “turf” — and they need to be able to pay the phone bill and have office space. At a more complex level, our churches are metaphorical spaces where we may “stand on our turf” and have our social criticisms be heard effectively; as individuals in a mass democracy, we have no such “turf” on which we can stand to be heard (that is, not unless we are extraordinarily wealthy). When you look at the budget of one of our typical churches (one which owns its own building), approximately 55% of the budget will be for staff salaries and benefits; 40% will be for building maintenance; and perhaps 5% will be for programming and (if we’re lucky) 5% will go towards social justice.

Many church members will be very critical of this breakdown, claiming that far more than 5% of a church budget should go towards social justice; this on the theory that one of the primary purposes of a liberal church is to promote social justice. However, Continue reading