Tag Archives: theology

What is Unitarian Universalism – in 30 seconds?

When I meet with people who have heard of Norton Unitarian Church and are interested in what we are doing, inevitably the question comes up: “So what is Unitarian Universalism all about?  What is this church about?”

It is a complicated question that, realistically, takes a lifetime to answer.  It’s also one that requires an answer in under thirty seconds.  My answer is not terribly eloquent but it gets the point across.

“Unitarian Universalism is generally left-leaning.  We were the first people to ordain women to the ministry, and we accept all people, regardless of race, class, or sexual orientation.  That’s a core value of our faith.  At Norton Unitarian we believe we need to love all people and to think.  Doing both at the same time can be very difficult, but it is what we believe we are called to do.”

To love all people and to think.  That’s the heart of what has kept me in the UU faith for the last several years, and it is what has sustained my ministry.  It is why I keep coming back to this religion, and why I have faith in what we do – what Norton Unitarian Church is all about.

It’s not an easy thing to do, at least not for me.  One of my favorite articles on this subject was written by UU minister Meg Barnhouse and published not long after the terrible shooting in the Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville, Tennessee.  Meg wrote about how she had met the shooter at a Unitarian Universalist summer camp several years before, and how she had struggled with his views at that time.  She wrote:

“We love to think of ourselves as open-minded, but it’s hard for us to be open-minded toward certain people and their views. Maybe it’s just me that has a hard time, but I think I’m not alone in this. I argued with him, too. I do affirm the worth and dignity of every person, but I never promised to affirm the worth and dignity of every idea. Some ideas are oppressive and not well thought out. They lead to violence and injustice and really bad behavior. I try to argue with respect and kindness, but it’s hard when the person you’re talking to acts like a jerk. If I were the Dalai Lama or a UU saint, I would be able to, and I hope that will come in the future, but I am sure not there yet.”

To love all people and to think.  To love the shooters who are terrorizing our churches and schools and grocery store parking lots, while knowing that what they are doing is completely and totally, gut-wrenching wrong.  It’s not easy to do both of these, at least not for me.  Sometimes I would much rather sit in judgement of another person than engage in the struggle of loving and thinking.

To me, a religion needs to be something that we strive to live up to.  It needs to be something that we can’t “complete” or “be without knowing it.”  It has to be something that guides us – something that helps us to live better lives and become the best people we can be.

Anchored in Unitarian Universalism

When I was twenty-two years old, I tried to convert.

I was raised Unitarian Universalist.  Daughter and granddaughter of Unitarian Universalists, child of active church board members and a student at the local Montessori school, I was steeped in UU values and beliefs.  And like many people, I wanted to experiment – I wanted to engage with a different faith than that I’d known my whole life.

I had studied religion in college, and was fascinated by the way that people’s religious beliefs influenced their lives and their decisions.  I wanted to see what else was out there – perhaps a religion that could offer me more guidance, something that could give me the concrete answers on cosmological questions that Unitarian Universalism never had.

So I began to attend other churches, and even a synagogue.  I visited the Episcopalians, the Reform Jews and the UCC’s.  I shared coffee with Baptists and sang with the Methodists.  I was inspired by many of their stories and loved that they said the same thing every week.  As I dabbled, however (and really enjoyed the Baptists, I’ll be honest!), I found I was running into a significant hitch.  I didn’t believe what these churches were saying.

They said they had the answer.  Most of them repeated the Nicaean Creed, and they relied on the Bible and the Torah for guidance.  But when it came right down to it, it didn’t seem to me that they didn’t know any more about the meaning of the cosmos than my Unitarian Universalist communities. They had beliefs and hopes, but they didn’t have the answers in their theology.  Not answers I could believe.

So I came home.  I returned back to the wrestle-with-the-questions community I had been raised in and started to look again for answers.  For guidance on how to make the best decisions I could.  For a community that could sustain me as I faced living in a world that isn’t always pretty, but sometimes more beautiful than I can believe.  And here in this church, I found something that was amazing – I found Unitarian Universalist theology.  And with that, I found an anchor that helped me understand the questions; an anchor that helped – and helps! – me live my life.

On the Bus to Heaven

One of my favorite books is C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce.  I don’t agree with all of Lewis’ theology, and am certainly not a fan of his distinctly modernist understandings of good and evil.  But I *love* the ideas presented in The Great Divorce, specifically the imagery he puts forth for Heaven and Hell.

The basic premise of the book is fairly simple.  Hell, or Purgatory, is a place that a lot of people live in.  It is a grey, dismal town with no sense of community and a lot of fish and chips shops.  Everyone who wants to is free to board the bus, a vehicle “blazing with golden light” that will take people to Heaven.   Once in Heaven, the newcomers have to face radical adjustments due to the astonishing beauty that is around them.  The newcomers are guided by angels, who both support them and assure them that with time, the beauty and joy of Heaven will become natural to them.  But as the story continues, we watch nearly all of the newcomers re-board the bus and go back to Hell….because they would rather be in a place they know and have some false sense of control, than in a place of beauty where they have to work to accept a new and better life.

Sometimes, we would so much rather live a known Hell than work to be part of a new Heaven.  The pull to live in the known rather than the unknown is astonishingly strong, even when then known is grey, dreary, and stretches on in loneliness forever.  Lewis makes no bare bones in The Great Divorce that becoming acclimated to beauty is painful at first.  He talks about how it is hard for the newcomers to walk on the grass because it is so sharp, and to see all of the beauty because it is so bright.

What I love about this book is not the pictures painted of Heaven and Hell – though I do think there is something fabulous about a grey Hell that smells like old fish – but the fact that through this allegory, Lewis acknowledges how hard change is.  In this story, people are voluntarily LEAVING HEAVEN to go back to Hell….simply because it is a place they know, and one that does not require them to change.

Change is hard.  Seriously, change is hard.  Hard and scary and sometimes feels impossible.  But I love Lewis’ challenge – shall we live in a known Hell or a brave new Heaven?  Can we bear to face the joy that can be ours?  In our lives, in our churches, in our communities and our own souls?

What does your Heaven look like?