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Text

Our text this morning comes from Edith Hunter, at one time a developer of religious education curricula for the Unitarian Universalist Association. This reading includes a string of questions, and as I read them, I will pause briefly after each one, and invite you to note your initial impression, your instinctive response to each one of these questions.

Many . . . religious liberals have not given sufficient thought to what we believe. We recite no dogmatic creed. We have no finished faith, once revealed and now neatly packaged and sealed. Are we in danger, then, of going to the opposite extreme -- of being hopelessly vague about what we believe? Perhaps we should realize that our need is not to "find something to believe" . . . but rather to discover what our lives indicate that we believe right now. This is the place to start. What did we enjoy most in the day just passed? How did we spend our time? How do we wish we might have spent [our time]? How do we feel about ourselves at the end of the day? Do we like the kind of person we are? What do we worry about? What are we afraid of? What do we hope for? Whose lives did our lives touch during the day? Was it for better or worse? How do we feel about [those around us]? Are we aware of the natural universe? Do the arts influence us and feed our spirits? To bring our attitudes, our convictions, [and] our practices out into the open and to look at them systematically is to find out what we actually believe. (quoted in George N. Marshall, The Challenge of a Liberal Faith, p. 101)

Sermon

The title of this service might imply that liberal religion entails one great challenge. If, indeed, that is true, then the great challenge of liberal religion must be to identify that one great challenge. For liberal religion, as I understand it, is created or built around a
constellation of challenges, challenges that invite a response from each of us. At any given time, I suspect, each of us will find that more of our energy is directed toward some of these challenges, and less is directed toward others. That level of energy, that degree of engagement with the questions -- questions like those I just read to you -- may very well change over time for each of us. The question that most of my energy might go into today -- say "How do I feel about myself today?" -- may be on the back burner next week. Another question may have taken its place as the focus.

Our great challenge then, is not a single challenge, but rather the navigation of a network of challenges, and a fairly extensive one at that. Let's take a look at some of those challenges . . . but first, let's take a look at where those challenges come from. Let's look at the principles that form the foundations of liberal religion. I'm not talking about our Unitarian Universalist principles, but rather about a more general set of values that may be said to give shape to our liberal religious movement.

In his classic two-volume history of Unitarianism, Earl Morse Wilbur identifies freedom, reason, and tolerance as the core values of the Unitarian religious movement, from its beginnings during the Reformation to the mid-20th century. To these three, let us add the central Universalist value of love, giving us the four values that I often mention in introducing our services: freedom, reason, tolerance, and love. And let me add one more thing, noted by Earl Morse Wilbur at the very conclusion of his extensive history. He suggests that, while we can value freedom, reason, and tolerance for their own sake, there is another sense in which we can value them. This other sense, this sense in which we ought to value them even more is this -- while good in themselves, they are powerful means to a greater end -- the creation of a better world. Let us agree, at least for the sake of argument, that liberal religion values freedom, reason, tolerance, and love, and it attempts to apply these values in the service of the good.

So what is the challenge, or what are the challenges? The challenges appear when we look at these four values, and think about their interactions. Some fit fairly well together: freedom and reason, for instance, or freedom and love. I am free to use and value my capacity to reason, and it seems reasonable to me to value freedom. I do not think that people should be coerced into actions or beliefs that they find unappealing or unconscionable. As I understand love, it assumes a certain degree of freedom: you cannot be forced to love someone or something. We do speak sometimes of the bonds of love, of love binding our hearts and souls together, but that is, at least in the ideal, a bondage we choose to enter into. It is not forced upon us by a third party, or if it is, I would not call it love. And similarly, I hope, we would wish freedom for those we love. If we love someone or something, we would have them enjoy freedom, that they may lead the fullest and most beautiful life they can.

But not all of these value interactions are quite that easy. For instance, it can be a challenge to balance freedom and tolerance. Freedom, taken to the absolute degree, suggests that each one of us can do whatever he or she might want to do, with no consideration for the impact of one's actions on others. But tolerance, understood in its largest and most positive sense, tolerance as an awareness, respect, and sincere concern for the rights and feelings of others, imposes a limitation on freedom. At the very least, in order to balance freedom and tolerance, I find my freedom limited to actions which, so far as I can predict, imply respect for those with whom I interact. To act in a way that values both freedom and tolerance, I am challenged to find a balance between them.

A similar challenge comes when we attempt to balance reason and love, when we seek to reconcile the head and the heart. Love is an emotion, and emotions, by definition, are not reasonable. Who among us has never had to say "I know it makes no sense, but I really want to do ________" or "I can't tell you why, but today I really feel _______." Who among us has not found himself or herself moved to tears or to laughter by a piece of art, a poem, an arresting piece of music, or a dramatic production? These are all examples of communication at the emotional level, rather than the rational level. When these emotional connections occur, they can baffle the intellect. Sometimes we can feel the wheels of our reason spinning and slipping as we seek to control emotion with reason. Other times, we feel the pangs of squelched emotion as we clamp down on emotion in order to give ourselves a sense of maintaining some degree of control of our lives.

To attempt to live in an exclusively rational manner, one would have to be a computer. On the other hand, to live with no reason, guided only by emotions, would probably be even more difficult. Now these positions, the two extreme points on the spectrum, are not realistic alternatives, but my point is that each one of us is challenged to find the point on that spectrum that balances love and reason in a manner that works for him or her. Your point of balance and mine may be different, but neither one of us can entirely discount either reason or love.

Even greater than those two challenges stands another: the process of discerning the good. Our goal is to employ freedom, reason, tolerance, and love in the service of the good. But how often are we sure we know what is "good?"

Consider again the quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson which I read for our chalice lighting: "We are commanded at every moment and in every condition of life to do the duty of that moment and to abstain from doing the wrong." (quoted in George N. Marshall, The Challenge of a Liberal Faith, pp. 12-13) The duty of that moment is the good we are called to work towards, yet, if your experience of life is at all like mine, you often find yourself in situations where it is hard to know "the duty of the moment" with any degree of certainty.

Emerson's phrase "the duty of the moment" suggests that, over time, the duty of the moment may change, even given a similar situational context.  Some may criticize this as moral relativism, but I prefer to consider it moral evolution. Of course, those who oppose the teaching of evolution of the species may be equally opposed to the idea that morality might evolve. However, as we consider some of the changes in the accepted morality that have taken place over time, such as embracing democracy as superior to monarchy, considering people of different races to have equal rights, and believing that all people, irrespective of their gender and sexual orientation, are of equal worth and dignity, we see that morality can certainly change over time.

So how do we go about identifying the duty of the moment, the right thingto do in any difficult situation. I have three suggestions about how one find that duty. First, one might ask how the seven principles espoused by this congregation and the other member congregations of the Unitarian Universalist Association speak to the situation. And for anyone here for the first or second time, let's name those principles . . . Recalling these principles, and considering what they may have to say about about a complicated moral situation is one way that we can seek out our duty.

Alternatively, there is a second possible strategy, although I have to admit that it involves a certain circular logic with which my reason is not entirely comfortable. Given the options we see in our situation, we can review these four values -- freedom, reason, tolerance, and love -- and ask how each of them is present in the options before us. I agree with Earl Morse Wilbur when he proposes that these values are intended for the service of the good, but I cannot escape the sense that each of those four qualities is a facet of my conception of goodness. So I propose that we could use them, in the same manner that we use the seven principles, as compasses to help us find the good we seek to serve.

The third suggestion that I would offer, beyond thinking about the situation with reference to either the seven principles or the four values, is to confer with others whose judgment we respect. There isn't always time to do this -- an emergency situation may demand an immediate response. But most situations are not true emergencies, and there is time to talk with others and to determine the duty of the moment with their help. And sometimes I may find myself in what seems to be an emergency, but, as I consider the situation, I come to see that the urgency I feel comes mainly from my own discomfort with the moral complexity of the situation. My own psychic need "to get this over with" is the source of the urgency. And it may be that taking the time to talk with a trusted counselor is worthwhile in these situations.

So let us suppose that by conferring with others, or by considering the seven principles or the four values, we believe we have identified what Emerson calls "the duty of that moment." Now we face the challenge that may be the greatest of them all. We are challenged to change the world, although probably not the whole world all at once. We are challenged not only to think and to feel, but to act, to transform ourselves and to encourage change in the world around us. In order to do this, we are challenged to believe that a better world is possible. We are challenged to believe that we can be part of its creation. Not instantly, not magically, not through divine intervention, not by ourselves, but step by painful step, together, reaching out to help others and to be helped by them, we are challenged to believe that the slogan "deeds not creeds" is more than a slogan. In this way, as the words of Edith Hunter suggested in this morning's text, we ". . . bring our attitudes, our convictions, [and] our practices out into the open and . . . find out what we really believe."

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