In a sense, I think something like this happens not only to individuals, but to cultures. Alone and collectively, we try to make sense of a world that can at times seem baffling, disorienting, and ever changing. Certainly, the ever-accelerating pace of change has proven to be one of the few constants of the modern world. Consider this perspective by Unitarian Universalist minister Judith Walker-Riggs:

When last we left our story, two weeks ago, a group of thinkers, many of them Unitarian or Universalist ministers, had published the Humanist Manifesto of 1933. It was a daring attempt to make sense of our human condition, rooted in scientific, psychological, and ethical frameworks of forward-thinking Americans of the first half of the 20th century.

The title “Humanist” is still one vilified by many traditionally religious people even now. Such humanist-phobia, it seems to me, springs from Humanism’s basic challenge to religious authority as it’s generally conceived. Authority, as taught by mainstream religion, derives from certain ancient texts and rituals, interpreted by religious leaders who are often oblivious to the cultural distance between them and those who composed their texts, oblivious to their own inherited prejudices and parochialisms, oblivious even to their own circular logic.

A UU minister friend of mine once told me about a thought experiment he performed at seminary with a fellow student who was a fundamentalist Christian. My friend took a piece of paper and wrote, “I am God.” When the fundamentalist objected, he countered that his claim had textual authority. The other student pointed out that my friend had just written that text, “I am God,” on the sheet of paper. My friend replied that it obviously had been written by God, since it said so right there in print. This is what’s known as circular logic.

The Humanist movement of the early 20th century tried to set religious authority to a far greater standard. Appeals to ancient texts and beliefs were not enough. Rather, religion must address the real needs of people in our age. To quote the Manifesto, “Religion consists of those actions, purposes, and experiences which are humanly significant. Nothing human is alien to the religious. It includes labor, art, science, philosophy, love, friendship, recreation — all that is in its degree expressive of intelligently satisfying human living.”

To paraphrase Jesus, who was a humanist in his own way, “religion is made for people, not people for religion.” Churches, creeds, and codes of conduct are secondary compared with freedom of thought, inquiry, and expression, and equal access to the good things of the world that foster human development.

Of the 34 signers of the Humanist Manifesto (all of whom were men, I might add), 15 were Unitarian ministers. One, the Rev. Clinton Lee Scott, was a Universalist. There was also a rabbi amongst the group.

Some of the ideas of the Humanist Manifesto, especially a denial of the existence of God and the supernatural realm, were the target of criticism among Unitarians and Universalists. Actually, the publishing of the Manifesto in 1933 came rather late in the founding period of Humanism within Liberal Religion.

Let me share with you some selections from Meadville-Lombard Theological School’s President Robert R. Murray’s fine lecture[2] on the events of that time, given at the Humanist Conference in the year 2000. Speaking of Reese and Dietrich, two of the Unitarian ministers who were instrumental to the Humanist cause, Murray said:

President Murray also commented on Humanism within Universalism, which is the denomination this congregation was founded under in 1841, and remained in till the merger of the denominations 43 years ago. Murray said:

I only know of one minister who ever went to the trouble of actually reversing his baptism that he received from a Christian church early in life. The Rev. David Bumbaugh, who I respect a great deal, who is also affiliated with Meadville-Lombard Theological School, a staunch Humanist, reportedly designed his own ritual whereby he repudiated his Christian baptism as no longer fitting who he was.

By the 1950’s and ‘60’s, Unitarians and Universalists began to agree that there was much more that united them than separated them in their open approach to religion. So, in 1961, after having flirted for about 150 years, the couple finally tied the knot. (I understand that the Unitarians had once considered merger with Reform Judaism, but that union was never consummated.)

I don’t know if you listened to A Prairie Home Companion on NPR last night. Garrison Keillor, the host of the show, often makes jokes about UU’s. Gentle ribbing. Last night, they were in Boston, which, after all, is the headquarters of Unitarian Universalism. They devoted a whole segment to a “Unitarian musical” called, “Song of Ourselves.” One of the jokes he began the show with was, “A Unitarian funeral is a case of all dressed up and no place to go.” That kind of humor makes sense in the context of the highpoint of Humanism in the 1960’s and 1970’s.

At the time of merger, Humanists formed at least half of the membership of each denomination. In the years that followed, some Unitarian Universalists considered the denomination “a religion for the non-religious.” Sermons were preached on the religion of Einstein, the beauty of nature, and timely social issues. It was understood as religion for people who had put the superstitions of the past behind them.

A popular motto was, “Deeds Not Creeds!” In other words, what you do is more important than what you say you believe. The idea is in some ways an analog to the nineteenth century Unitarian concept of “salvation by character.” In a nutshell, salvation by character says that what saves us is not faith (which too often is mistaken for a laundry list of “beliefs”). It’s instead character, that is, who we are. Who am I? Who are you? Well, to begin to answer that question, look at what you or I do. That comes out of who we are and shapes who we will become. That’s salvation by character. Sometimes, it’s like a wind blowing over many years, chiseling the solid rock into its own unique shape. Sometimes, it’s like a flash flood that tears away the soft, moist riverbanks.

I heard this week that each of us makes an average of 17 decisions before breakfast. The first decision is usually, “Should I get up?” I want to thank each of you for answering, “Yes!” to that question this morning. What I mean to say is that each decision we make makes us. This is sometimes referred to as the wheel of karma. “What goes around comes around.” “As you sow, so will you reap.” Each decision we make makes not only us, but the families and communities in which we live, for better or worse.

To think of it another way, there is general agreement across religions and cultures that it is wrong to steal, lie, or murder. I venture to say most people, unless somehow emotionally impaired, would, upon reflection, agree that such actions cut us off from each other and parts of our selves. What’s more, the greatest of teachers, some of them remembered a hundred generations after their deaths, have shown a higher way, beyond mere ethical behavior, toward all-encompassing, unconditional love.

For me, the heart of Humanism and Spirituality is a life which is becoming more and more a perfect reflection of peace, justice, and love. Some of us are hiking toward that summit on one face, others of us are rock climbing up another. Some of us are cavers and crawl through darkness in hopes of an ascending passage, which will lead us to that higher ground.

There are many ways in which we Unitarian Universalists of 2004 can wind our way up that mountain toward the better selves we can become. Some pray. Some meditate or chant. Some dance around bonfires. Some join book groups. Some teach the young. Some search the ancient texts. Some find the sweetest mass in the cathedral of a forest. Some speak out for the poor and oppressed and feed the hungry. Some write their dreams. Some just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Yesterday, I attended the memorial service for the Rev. Paul Mueller, who had been a greatly loved minister of the Unitarian Society in New Brunswick, New Jersey. I had know Paul as a colleague, someone we ministers were always glad to have around, especially at a retreat, where he was the king of the Monopoly board. Paul had a white beard like Santa and much of his generous temperament. He had done so much in his ministry there the last fifteen years, he and his co-minister, his wife, Peg. He started an affirming group for youth, mentored ministerial students and new ministers, taught UU history at Union Seminary, challenged and rooted for the congregation he helped made into a dynamo of social outreach. He was so proud when they voted to give 100% of the cash offering every Sunday to groups outside the congregation. He had told them it wouldn’t be a financial problem, and it wasn’t. Their generosity, responding to his loving challenge, rose to the occasion.

In the midst of all his activity, though, Paul always seemed to have time to talk. Paul was such a warm, caring, gentle person, who knew how to see the best in people and help them find it in themselves. I don’t know what Paul’s theology was, whether he was Christian, Buddhist, Humanist, Pagan, some combination, or something else entirely. But I do know something about who Paul was and how he treated people.

I was very proud yesterday to be in that packed service. There were so many of us there to pay our respects to that wonderful man the many of us had to watch on closed-circuit television. I was proud to be part of a movement that nurtured such a person and was nurtured by him in return.

When I think about the future of Unitarian Universalism, and the type of faith I would like to see for those children in the first part of our service and the type of people I hope they will become, I wish that we would have more people like Paul Mueller, no carbon copy, of course. The humble Rev. Mueller would’ve been embarrassed to have people copy his outward traits. Rather, Paul’s authentic humanity, his love, and his spirit (that part that we may not be able to define, but somehow sense remaining after the man is gone), these are things we always need more of.

My dream is that we as a movement will continue, deepen, and expand the many paths we now search for truth and meaning, as individuals, as small groups, and as a gathered community. What we’re really searching for, I think, is a way to be who we can be.

I don’t think any one approach works for everyone. We have many types of spirituality among us in the greater UU community, from Unitarian Universalist Buddhists to UU Pagans to even those exploring our Jewish and Christian roots as Unitarians and Universalists. There are some also interested in a group called “The Brights,” which Shaw Stuart told me about. The Brights seem, in some ways, to be a revival of the types of ideas Humanists were developing in the ‘20’s and ‘30’s, a naturalistic view of the world, based on reason, and science, and an ethical framework.

I would like to see each UU congregation be known as a place in the community where people of every sort of condition, gay or straight, black, white, or brown, male or female, child or adult, rich or poor, temporarily-abled or disabled, on whatever life-affirming path, can come and grow in mind, heart, and spirit. Let’s be a place where we can find out our best selves and help others find theirs. Let’s be a place where we discover, under all the mythology, how to become more like Socrates, Jesus, Buddha, Hildegard, more like all those who loved truth and truly loved.

I will conclude this last sermon of the series, with the words of the Rev. Ken Patton, the poetic minister who wrote so many readings for 20th century Liberal Religion. To me, Patton seems to say that even though we don’t have everything figured out, we can nevertheless live a life of faith, defined broadly as a trust in the way things are, and hold in our hearts the love and peace we long for. Patton writes:

“I am at home in the universe. I carry my home with me. No matter where I go, I cannot be less than at home. The forests are the rooms of the house of my childhood. The winds are my mother’s arms. The sun is my child’s laughter. The caterpillar crawling on my hand is my brother’s arm thrown over my shoulder.

“The children playing in the street of another country are my children. The stranger’s bed encloses me in the sleep of my covers. The earth is my home & its creatures are my family. There is no loneliness to overtake me. I am not stricken to find my home. I breathe interstellar space. The world is pasture for my mind, forage for my imagination. The universe is at home in my mind, its creatures live friendly within me. I live warm and friendly with my fellows in the starry world.”

Notes:

[1]	John Buehrens and Forrest Church, A Chosen Faith (Boston: Beacon Press, 1989, 1998), 155.
[2]	Florida District of the Unitarian Universalist Association. “Religious Humanism Lecture given by William R. Murry, President and Academic Dean of Meadville-Lombard Theological School, at the Humanist Conference in March 2000.” (http://www.floridadistrict.org/sermons/murray.htm).