Whom do we worship?

September 23, 2007

Rev. Rali Weaver

First Church in Dedham

Who am I as a Unitarian Universalist Minister—I, who have sworn to affirm and promote each individual's search for truth and meaning—who am I to tell you who we worship?

We come together each week. We read together our unison affirmation:

“Love is the spirit of this church, service is its law. To dwell together in peace, to seek the truth in freedom, to serve humanity in love—is our covenant with each other and God.”

But I cannot say for certain whether each one of us who shows up each Sunday believes even those words, words that we say each week.

I notice from up here that some of you recite the whole affirmation, while others drop off the word "God." And still others do not say the words of our affirmation at all but simply stand looking forward without a word.

We are all different. We have different beliefs.

The problem becomes, however, that for the purposes of this sermon, if I cannot determine whether or not we all strive toward the same intention each week, one that is set forward in our unison affirmation, how can I even begin to pinpoint who we worship at all?

One Sunday last summer I went with colleagues to an Evangelical Baptist church in Mattapan. What struck me most about it was not how long we sat for that two and a half hour service, nor was it how raptly everyone listened to the minister’s 45 minute sermon (although that was most impressive), it was how palpable the spirit was in that place.

From the moment we walked into that church until the moment we left, even though I call myself a non-theist, (which basically means I don’t believe in a personal god), I could feel the spirit of a living, breathing God among us. It wasn’t just the music, although just as in our music today, that music played an important part in the worshipful feeling. And it wasn’t just the words either, although the words did touch on sorrow and suffering and offered convincing testimony that affirmed a healing God. The words also spoke of Joy and proclaimed a God who offered it. And just like the words that I read today, the words that day touched on the longing for what is good and proclaimed that only a living God could fill it

The words were great, but still there was something more palpable in that room, a spirit that held me there longer than I would normally be willing to stay in a worship service, offering up laughter and tears. I left worship that Sunday feeling energized and empowered.

And I found myself longing to find ways to offer that to each of you when you come to worship in this place on Sunday mornings.

The problem, of course, is that the entire worship service in Mattapan was aimed at affirming a belief held in common, and this had a powerful emotional effect that gave one the feeling of being swept away in a river.

Everyone around us— all 650 people or so, moved confidently in the river of praise offered up to a living breathing God. And so it became easy and natural to go along for the ride.

This experience kindled within me the question I hope we will wrestle with today:

"Who do we worship?"

The Oxford Dictionary defines worship in the context of a church: as the feeling or expression of reverence for a deity, including the acts or rites that make up a formal expression of reverence for a deity.

I am generally skeptical of anything that is at odds with a rational understanding of the universe, and as your minister I can neither confirm nor deny a person of god that watches over us and makes things happen.

At the same time, I must confess that when I have writer’s block and the words do not flow freely, I always lift up my need to a god who I imagine is listening and willing to help me, and the words eventually come.

And when I was driving back to the East Coast from California two years ago, and my friend who was to travel with me canceled with less than 24 hours notice, I invited god aboard, as my copilot, and the thought of god traveling with me made my journey much easier.

My experience of a god I call on in times of trouble, and whom I celebrate when times go well, is admittedly at odds with my non-theistic theology, but is part of my truth about god.

The complicated thing in our setting is that we have no one corporate view of a deity that we all agree upon, and there is no common understanding of who we worship.

I am sure that some of us believe in a personal relationship with God or Jesus, and draw deep meaning from the scriptures to understand a personal god.

Some others of our parish believe in a transcendent God in all things.

And some hold up homage to the spirit of God in nature, while still others hold up the idea of the collective unconscious and draw on that energy to live.

Some of us might simply enjoy the company we find here and reject any idea of God.

In our worship, all of these thoughts are considered part of the truth, and while one of them might be more right for you or for me in this moment in time, not one of these beliefs is right for all of us in every moment. We are changing and growing in every moment and our beliefs about God also change.

The report by the 2005 Unitarian Universalist Commission on Appraisal was titled Engaging our Theological Diversity, and it wrestled with the question of what holds us together.

The commission's report pointed out that as Unitarians and Universalists we have a common story, and religious ancestors in common. But it also noted that we have not done a good job of sharing that history with newcomers. They pointed out that we have become a culturally and theologically diverse population, and they listed a set of theological assumptions which many Unitarian Universalists share, including:

• a focus on personal experience

• the use of reason as a tool

o a strong sense of optimism about human nature

• an understanding of humanity’s place in the universe that is unique among religious traditions,

just to name a few.

The report went on to address the question of how we worship, pointing to shared structures and worship elements such as chalice lightings and the use of covenants and music, stressing that we might not need a common language of reverence but a common practice of reverence.

The commission's report closed by encouraging each congregation to define what holds us together while also working to “take theology seriously and to find ways to engage theological issues rather than avoiding them out of a sense of fear or anxiety over offending others.”

What I believe holds us together at our core is our diversity. Amidst all the world's divisions, we strive to come together in love NOT in spite of our disparate beliefs but BECAUSE of them.

As a minister, preparing common worship for you is a complicated matter. It is true that I do not want to offend anyone.

But I do not think I have to stand up here every Sunday morning to encourage you to believe one thing. Instead, I have the liberty to offer up something for us all to consider, hoping we will all strive over the week to come to our own conclusions. I may at times say things you wholly disagree with. I may at times find words that will affirm your independent truth. Both your agreement and disagreement are part of the process of our worship.

This is much different from what happens in that Baptist church in Mattapan; in fact, it is different from what happens in the church across the street. Here, in these walls, we strive to make sense not of one common faith, but of all of our diverse beliefs.

In these walls we worship not one view of God that we must all hold to be here, but instead, our individual reason and experience, knowing that what each of us knows about God is a piece of the truth.

There will be times that I share my faith story from this pulpit, and offer my ideas of the world and my personal truths, but in this sacred space there is room for you to accept or reject my words.

I will sometimes read from the Bible, as I did today. I happen to like the Bible. And you can choose to listen to those words as if they are beautiful literature, or as Divine and special words. How you perceive the words is up to you.

Because I use the word "god" as a sort of shorthand to describe the mystery of existence, I might sometimes use that word in worship. And this word you, too, can translate. For me, it is written with a lowercase g. You might hear a capital G. Or when I say the word "god" you might hear “the spirit of love that holds us together” or the “quiet unknowing breath of life.” How you perceive my words is up to your reason and experience alone.

While the worship committee and I try to create a worshipful experience for you each week, something that will leave you feeling uplifted and confident and not alone, nothing that goes on here is a mandate that you must accept. Everything is offered for you to make sense of with your own reason and experience.

I suggest then that what or who we worship here together is different for all of us, but that what we strive to hold in common and what we lift up is our right to make sense of the mysteries of the universe in our own hearts and minds.

We do not come together each Sunday to remind each other, as so many churches do, that god loves us. Our truths are much more simple and earthy.

They were, I think, summed up best in an inscription on a magnet sold by the YRUU a few years ago: “It is a blessing that each of us was born, it matters what we do with our lives, what each of us knows about god is a piece of the truth, and we don’t have to do it alone.”

In an echo of the words of Howard Thurman that we read today, our forefathers also expressed a longing and striving and searching for what is good. I hope that this is also part of what holds us together in worship--the striving of our spirits toward wholeness.

May we worship not one person, but rather, a spirit of wholeness, ever open to new truths amidst our diversity, working together to define our individual faith in love.