Monthly Archives: April 2008

John Murray Sails to the New World

I’m away from Internet access today, leading a workshop on Unitarian Universalist history. While I’m away, I thought I’d leave you with this story, which is part of a work-in-progress, a book of stories for liberal religious kids. The source for the story is The Life of Rev. John Murray, by John Murray, ed. and completed by Judith Sargent Murray; 8th edition ed. L. S. Everett (Boston, 1854), pp. 128 ff. There are lots of versions of this story out there. But I went back to the source, and wrote this shorter version from scratch, putting my own (slightly cynical) theological spin on it. It’s fun to ask people from the congregation, or children from the class, to act out the various parts of this story (someone always wants to do the death scene).

John Murray Sails to the New World

Most Unitarian Universalists don’t spend very much time talking about miracles. We’re not all that interested in miracles, and many of us don’t believe in miracles anyway. But did you know that we have our very own Universalist miracle? Let me tell you about the miracle of John Murray.

John Murray lived in England, with his wife and his baby. John Murray and his wife had started out going to an ordinary church, and people in that ordinary church believed that if you were bad, when you died you would go to a very unpleasant place called Hell. Fortunately, John Murray’s wife, Eliza, found a Universalist church where she learned that love is the most powerful force in the universe, and therefore no one would ever go to Hell after they died. Soon, she brought her husband to that church, too, and they became enthusiastic about their new Universalist religion. John even became a Universalist preacher.

Then something very sad happened. Eliza and their baby got very sick and died. John was so sad that he decided to give up preaching Universalism, leave England, and go to America to start a new life. So he got on a boat that was sailing for America.

Well, they sailed and they sailed and they sailed, and at last they were almost to America. But as they got close to shore, the boat got stuck on a sand bar! They couldn’t get off that sandbar, so the captain sent John Murray ashore to fetch back some food and water.

John Murray went ashore. They were far from any port, or even any town, and as he walked along he saw a very strange sight. He saw a small farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere, and nearby he saw a church. What was a church doing in such a lonely place?

John Murray introduced himself to the owner of the church, a man named Thomas Potter. John asked him what the church was for, and Thomas Potter answered that he had built the church, but that he was waiting for a preacher who would preach about a loving God, who would preach that there was no such thing as Hell. Well, said John Murray, I used to preach just exactly that — I was a Universalist preacher — but now I don’t preach any more.

Thomas Potter grew excited, and said, “You’re just the one I’ve been waiting for! Come preach to me and my neighbors in my church!”

But John Murray said, No, I have to get back on my ship that’s stuck on the sandbar. Well, said Thomas Potter, if your ship is still stuck on that sandbar on Sunday, will you come preach in my church then? Yes, said John Murray, because he was sure that the ship would be free of the sandbar by then.

Days went by.

When Sunday came around, there was the ship, still stuck on the sandbar. And so John Murray came ashore, and preached a sermon on Universalism to everyone in that neighborhood. He was such a good preacher, he kept on preaching Universalism, and he went on to found the very first Universalist church in New England, which is still a Universalist church in Gloucester, Massachusetts.

So that’s our Universalist miracle: because the wind didn’t shift, John Murray started preaching Universalism, and became the most famous Universalist preacher of his day. We know it happened this way, because that’s exactly how John Murray tells the story in the autobiography. It’s our own Unitarian Universalist miracle.

The Man, the House, and the Cat

This story is part of a work-in-progress, a book of stories for liberal religious kids. The source for this story is Tales of the Dervishes by Idries Shah (Dutton, 1967). I once used this story in worship services during the church pledge drive, but that seemed a little too heavy-handed, and I don’t think I’d do it again. In fact, since this can be a touchy story for adults, it might be best only to use this during children’s worship services.

The Man, the House, and the Cat

You probably already know that in order to be considered a Mulsim — that is, someone who follows the religion of Islam — you must do five things. First, you must confess that there is no God but Allah whose prophet is Mohammed; second, you must pray five times a day; third, you must fast during the month of Ramadan; fourth, if you possibly can, you must make the journey to Mecca, the center of Islam; and fifth, you must give money to the poor. Sheik Nasir el-Din Shah, a Muslim who was a Sufi master, once told this story about giving money to the poor.

*****

Once there was a man who was very troubled in his mind. He faced such great troubles in his life that he could see no way out — oh, his problems were so great that I dare not tell you what they were. If you heard all his problems, you would be desparately sad for a month.

And yet his troubles kept growing worse. It got so bad, his friends gave up on him, his servants moved out, he had no one to talk to but his cat. In desperation, the man swore that if he ever found a way out of his troubles, he would sell his house, and give all the money he gained from selling his house to the poor people who lived in his city.

Soon thereafter, his troubles miraculously came to an end! Within two or three days, everything was fine once again. He sighed with relief. Once again, he could enjoy living in his beautiful house — and then he remembered. He had sworn that if he ever got out of his troubles, he would sell his beautiful house, and give all the money to the poor.

He realized he did not want to sell his house. Why, if he sold his house, and gave away all that money, he would have so little money left, he would have to live in a much smaller house. That would be most unpleasant! But he swore he would sell his house. But there was no reason for him to give away so much money; far better that he keep the money for himself.

So he told people they could buy his house for one piece of silver. However, his cat must continue to live in the house — everyone knows that cats don’t like to move — and the cat was such a valuable cat, he must sell it for no less than ten thousand pieces of silver.

A rich merchant bought the house for one piece of silver, and also bought the cat for ten thousand pieces of silver. The man gave all the money he gained from the sale of his house to the poor — which was only one piece of silver. But the money from the sale of the cat — ten thousand pieces of silver — that money, the man kept.

*****

Sheik Nasir el-Din Shah did not say what happened to the man afterwards. But Sheik Nasir el-Din Shah did say that many people are just like the man who sold his house for one piece of silver. Many people resolve to do the right thing, but then they change things around in their minds to make it easier, and make it be to their advantage. Nasir el-Din Shah said that until we can stop doing this, we will not learn anything at all.

This is a hard story to listen to. Even today, we know we should give money away, but instead we go and spend that money at the mall. I know this is something I have a problem with — how about you?

Joke

What do you get when you cross a televangelist with a Unitarian Universalist?

A television show that demands money from you for no particular reason.

The creeping crud

They’re calling it “the creeping crud” — the upper respiratory ailment that has afflicted so many people around here this winter. Yesterday I was talking with someone who has the creeping crud, and he said his doctor told him to expect it to last ten to twelve weeks; that is, if you take care of yourself, because if you don’t take care of yourself, the creeping crud creeps right back into your system.

Take me as an example of what the creeping crud can do to someone who doesn’t take care of himself. I came down with a vague upper respiratory ailment at the end of October, which lingered for twelve weeks or so. I finally got rid of it in mid-January — or so I thought — I felt great, got lots of outdoors exercise, cleaned the apartment, and — started overworking again. The creeping crud crept back into my lungs in early February, I developed bronchitis, and eleven weeks later I’m just starting to feel somewhat better.

At First Unitarian, we actually saw a significant dip in attendance in the worship service and in the Sunday school throughout February — that’s how prevalent the creeping crud has been in this part of the world. One of the television news shows claimed in February that half the population of Massachusetts had upper respiratory ailments. Supposedly health care providers are saying this is the worst they’ve ever seen it.

Unitarian sports figures

(1) Hearing my plea for some Unitarian or Universalist sports figures, A Denominational History Expert (ADHE) sent me a transcription of the inscription on the Boston Common Football monument, which stands at the entrance to the Common near Beacon and Spruce Streets — his transcription appears at the very end of this post. Anyone who knows their Unitarian history will immediately recognize the name of Francis Greenwood Peabody, who was a Unitarian minister and a theologian of the Social Gospel who wrote Jesus Christ and the Social Question — and who was also the son of Ephraim Peabody, Unitarian minister here in New Bedford from 1837-1846. According to Wikipedia, the Oneida Football Club played a very early version of football that may have had some similarity to either or both American football and soccer. Further research may show that other members of the Oneida Football Club were also Unitarians. In any case, we can claim one of the very first football players in the United States.

(2) I might have found a Unitarian who won an Olympic gold medal. Turns out that Kevin Barrett, a 9/11 conspiracy theorist, was born a Unitarian. His father was Peter Barrett, who was a well-known sailor who won a gold medal for sailing in the 1968 Olympics, and who won a silver medal in the 1964 Olympics (link) — he would have won the gold in 1964, except that he hit another boat, and though no one saw him do so, he dropped out of the race anyway in an act of true sportsmanship. If Kevin Barrett was born a Unitarian, there’s a decent chance that his father Peter was also a Unitarian — but I can’t confirm that. Peter Barrett lived in Madison, Wisconsin, so perhaps some of my readers have connections with the various Madison-area Unitarian Universalist churches and can find out whether or not he was a Unitarian Universalist.

Continue reading →

I’ll settle for WWF…

Are there any famous Unitarian Universalist sports figures out there? Commenter Patrick Murfin says no. I think he’s probably right, but I’d love to prove him wrong.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to identify a Unitarian, Universalist, or Unitarian Universalist who was or is a major sports figure, using the following criteria:

“Major sports figure” means plays on a major-league sports team in the U.S. (or equivalent abroad), or plays professionally (e.g., pro boxer, jockey, NASCAR driver), or is an Olympic gold medalist). I’m willing to consider those who hold world records with duly constituted sporting bodies. College players acceptable if their team wins a major event, or if theyr are personally a record holder. Crew member on a winning America’s Cup boat. Test match cricket would be fine. Dressage champion, sure why not. Hey, we’re desperate here. I’ll settle for a WWF wrestler (actually, finding a Unitarian Universalist pro wrestler would make me personally very happy).

The sports figure must have acknowledged himself or herself to be a Unitarian, Universalist, or Unitarian Universalist, and/or have been a member of a U, U, or UU congregation.

I’ve posted this same challenge on this blog before, with no results. But now the World Wide Web is bigger and shinier than it used to be, and our search skills are so much better. I’ve heard rumors about a Unitarian Universalist who got an Olympic gold medal in canoeing or kayaking — can we track that down? If we can’t have a Unitarian Universalist superhero, surely we can at least have a Unitarian Universalist sports figure!

Back in the day…

Are Unitarian Universalists sports-deficient as I have claimed? It turns out that back in the day, Universalists played some serious basketball. A denominational history expert sent me an email message to which was attached a scan of a newspaper clipping dating from 1960, just before the Universalists and the Unitarians consolidated into the Unitarian Universalist Association:

First Universalist has won the Somerville [Mass.] Y.M.C.A. Junior Church Basketball league championship for the third straight year by defeating West Somerville Baptist, 70-14.

By winning three successive years, First Universalist retired the Somerville Elks Trophy, which was presented to Rev. Elmer D. Colcord by “Y” President Norman Ray….

College Avenue Methodist finished in second place, one game behind, when it defeated West Somerville Congregational, 47-18….

The article goes on to state that First Universalist finished the 1960 season with a 13-1 record. That’s an impressive record, but what I find most impressive is the score of that final season game — the Universalists kicked some serious Baptist butt.

This raises an interesting question: were the Unitarians actually good at any sport? The man who president of the American Unitarian Association at the time of consolidation did play varsity football at Harvard, but one wonders if he was an exception rather than the Unitarian rule.

As always, your comments and speculations on this subject — a subject of great import — are more than welcome.

(For the record, I played on my college’s ultimate frisbee team. I don’t think we ever won a game.)

More eventful than usual

Carol and I went for a walk late this afternoon. It was a dreary gray day. We were on Pope’s Island heading across the bridge towards Fairhaven when we noticed a police car parked in the middle of the bridge. A police officer was standing in the sidewalk gesturing for us to cross to the sidewalk on the other side of the bridge; he was standing behind some of that yellow tape the police use to block off crime scenes.

As we stood there waiting for a break in the four lanes of traffic so we could cross to the other sidewalk, Carol told me that what she had read on the Web site of the New Bedford Standard-Times: that yesterday evening someone had seen someone walking along the bridge carrying a rope; that later police had found an empty noose tied to the railing of the bridge; that police divers were searching the water under the bridge.

As we passed the place where the police car was parked, another New Bedford police car pulled up. And a uniformed police officer sat on a dock over on our side of the bridge. “They must still have divers in the water,” said Carol.

When we got to Fairhaven, we turned down Middle Street. In the parking lot of the Fairhaven VFW, we saw four black-and-white Fairhaven police cars, one unmarked car with its blue lights flashing, a state police car, and several other cars. There were two tripods with video cameras standing on the sidewalk, and there was a man with a video camera on his shoulder further in the parking lot. There were perhaps thirty or forty bystanders spread out around the VFW parking lot: a couple standing on the porch of one of the apartments on the left, several people standing on the sidewalk in front, several more standing around the liquor store to the right of the VFW, and even more people standing on Bridge Street on the other side of the liquor store.

We had no idea what had happened, but it was pretty obvious that nothing was really going on any more. When we got back home, the Standard-Times Web site had a brief story: at 10:40 p.m. yesterday evening, police responded to a large fight somewhere around Bridge, Main, and Middle Streets (the Standard-Times reported that the fight took place at “the intersection of Middle and Main Streets,” but Middle and Main parallel each other). Three men received serious knife wounds; one of those died this morning after being flown to Beth Israel Hospital in Boston.

But we didn’t know all this until we returned home. We walked past the VFW and down to the harbor so I could look at some ducks. “They’re Buffleheads,” said Carol, while I was still trying to figure out what kind of ducks they were. “You’re right,” I said, “but I thought you didn’t like birding.” She smirked and said, “Yup, but I can see better than you.”

Then we walked home, past the people standing around the Fairhaven VFW, past the two police cars on the bridge to Pope’s Island, and then around the little park on the south side of Pope’s Island. “What’s that!” said Carol. A hawk flew clumsily away from us, keeping low to the ground. It reappeared on the other side of a big clump of rose bushes. Carol pointed to a big pile of feathers. “It caught a pigeon,” I said. “Let’s see if we can sneak up behind it and figure out what kind of hawk it is.”

We walked quietly around the clump of rose bushes, and there was the hawk sitting on the ground staring back at us: brown back, about the size of a crow, probably an immature Cooper’s Hawk. I thought it would immediately fly away when it saw us, but it didn’t. Then I saw the bright red in between its feet: it was clutching the carcass of the dead pigeon. No wonder the hawk had flown so clumsily away from us; no wonder it didn’t fly away while we were staring at it; it was holding on to its dinner. We watched the hawk for a minute or two, but it obviously wasn’t going to start eating again until we went away.

We walked on home. The sun came out as we walked across the swing span bridge onto Fish Island. We stopped to talk to someone we know; we waved to Russell at the Fish Island gas station. It was a more eventful walk than usual.

Basketball hoops, puzzles, and the liberal church

It happened entirely by chance, but by far the best thing I did in my twelve years as a religious educator was something I did at the Unitarian Universalist church in Lexington center, Massachusetts. At some point, I noticed there were lots of rabid sports fans in that church. I’m not a sports fan, so at first I just ignored the talk about football, baseball, basketball, soccer, blah blah blah — but talk about sports pervaded all aspects of church life, from the Sunday school to the youth group to adult committee meetings and social hour, and it finally sunk in to my thick head that sports was central to the lives of about half the church members.

So I got approval to install a basketball hoop. Kids from kindergarten up through high school started to play Horse after church was over. Adults didn’t play, but adult sports fans watched the kids playing. One young person, someone who had been something of a troublemaker, said to me, “Finally we have some sports at this church,” and then sighed with a mixture of pleasure and relief.

Why was this one of the best things I ever did? Because by getting a basketball hoop installed, I acknowledged that religion is a matter for the whole person. If you’re into sports, or if you’re simply an active person, having to sit through a typical worship service at a liberal church means having to deny the bodily-kinesthetic intelligence with which you are blessed. I speak from experience — I am not particularly good at sitting still, and when I am not leading worship I try to sit in the very back of the church because I know I am going to have to fidget and move around.

Psychologist Howard Gardner has developed a theory of multiple intelligences. Gardner claims that we human beings possess at least eight different, including linguistic, musical, logical-mathematical, bodily-kinesthetic, spatial, interpersonal, intrapersonal, and naturalist intelligences. Whether or not you accept Gardner’s theory as valid, it does offer a useful description of the kinds of knowing that we human beings can do; and helps us understand that each person has a unique constellation of strengths and weaknesses among these types of knowing.

But most liberal religious worship services that I have had to sit through focus on the linguistic, musical, and intrapersonal (i.e., internally reflective) intelligences — and that’s about all. If you stay for social hour, you might get to exercise your interpersonal intelligence. If the church is a pretty building, you might get to exercise your spatial intelligence.

Most liberal churches pretty much ignore those of us with strengths in bodily-kinesthetic and logical-mathematical intelligences. Sure, maybe you get to stand up once in a while to sing a hymn. Yes, maybe the minister will offer an interesting logical argument once in a while (but given current homiletic trends, that’s increasingly rare). But that’s about it.

So that’s why we need basketball hoops at church (although some of us with bodily-kinesthetic needs would prefer just to work around the building, but you get my point). And, come to think of it, that’s why we need puzzles at church (personally, I would be much happier sitting through a typical Unitarian Universalist worship service if the order of service had a really good puzzle in it). Religion should engage the whole person, not just bits and pieces of the person. With that in mind, although I can’t install a basketball hoop in this blog, I think maybe I will plan another puzzle….