Unitarian Universalist congregations offer unique examples of covenantal communities, where the authority over various aspects of the community is governed by agreements of relationship rather than brokering of power. In this sermon [PDF], the Rev. Dr. Michael Schuler, senior minister at the First Unitarian Society of Madison, Wisconsin, explores different types of authority in different models of religion, with great insight into how power structures in Unitarian Universalist congregations enable a richer spiritual life for our members through emphasis on individual freedom and responsibility.

On Whose Authority?

by Rev. Dr. Michael A. Schuler

Several weeks ago The Wall Street Journal reported on an emerging trend in certain conservative Christian congregations. As an example, the story pointed to the experience of a seventy-one year old woman, Karolyn Caskey, who had been expelled from the Allen Baptist Church in southwest Michigan.

Mrs. Caskey had been for many years a pillar of that small congregation. A member for half a century, she tithed 10% of her pension and had been a dedicated Sunday School teacher. “She’s one of the nicest, kindest people I know,” one of her neighbors observed. Nevertheless, one Sunday morning last June Mrs. Caskey was handcuffed and escorted from the small whitewashed Baptist church by a Michigan state trooper and a sheriff’s deputy. The charge was trespassing.

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The vast majority, though not all, of our congregations light a flaming chalice before beginning worship, and it is customary to say some words of intention while doing so, to set the mood for the service. It is a way to mark the hour of worship as a time out of time, separate from every day life, and sacred.

These chalice lighting words come from the Rev. Hilary Landau Krivchenia of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Lafayette, Indiana.

Chalice Lighting

by Rev. Hilary Landau Krivchenia

As the windows around us glow with a hundred colors of light
So may we feel the countless touches of the holy in our world.
All the names and presences, all the ideas and the persons.
May our shoulders feel the embrace of love
Our eyes feel the gentle brush of vision
Our hands feel the stirring of strength
Our legs feel an infusion of steadiness.
May our houses and this house be cleared with the gentle wind of peace.
May we be renewed in this time together
So that we may set out again
To be the hundred touches of the holy in the world.

Source: Chalice Lighting by Rev. Hilary Landau Krivchenia of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Lafayette, Indiana, delivered September 23, 2001.

Stories and metaphor are essential to any religious language, but perhaps even more so to Unitarian Universalists who are not bound by creed. Stories give us an opportunity to speak about larger things, using a broader vocabulary than we might in our every day conversations.

Religious educator Rev. Sophia Lyon Fahs (1876-1978) understood this importance, particularly in the realm of teaching children about religion. In this introduction to her Beginnings of Earth and Sky: Stories Old and New, she talks about the very evolution of stories of creation, and the human desire to explain the world around us.

Around Campfires

by Sophia Lyon Fahs

Long, long ago around a campfire in the evening twilight, a tribe of shepherds sat talking. They looked out across the valley — and over the hills — at the changing colors of the sky — rose and orange beams spreading overhead — pink, fleecy clouds floating among them — golden light coming from beyond out of the nowhere — or was it out of the everywhere?

There was too much greatness all around for anyone to speak. These shepherds of old felt themselves a part of something very large and high and wonderful.

At last someone asked, “From where has this great beauty come?”

Then another asked, “And how did it all begin at the very beginning?”

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Part of the depth of a Unitarian Universalist faith is our reliance on covenant, rather than creed. As Rev. Melissa Ziemer-Carvill points out in this sermon delivered at the First Unitarian Church of Rochester, New York on August 14, 2003 when she served as their summer minister, a covenant is more than a promise, but a relationship between ourselves and each other, and the holy, that not only calls us to our higher purpose but also offers forgiveness when we fall short.

Rev. Ziemer-Carvill now serves the Unitarian Universalist Church in Kent, Ohio.

On Not Throwing Anything Away

by Rev. Melissa Ziemer-Carvill

Here’s a little quiz. The words to our opening hymn, Come, Come Whoever You Are, are from a poem by the 13th century Sufi mystic Jelalludin Rumi. There are many adaptations of the poem, but most of them include a line omitted from our hymnal. See if you can pick it out.

“Come, come, whoever you are Wanderer, Worshiper, Lover of Leaving, Ours is no caravan of despair Though you have broken your vows a thousand times… Come, yet again, Come.”

Did you catch it? Though you have broken your vows a thousand times . . . We leave that one out, but I think it is such an important line. We need to know that we are not the only ones who break our vows. We need to know that imperfection is part of the human condition, that we can fail again and again and still, we are welcome.

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For many Unitarian Universalist congregations, the time of “In-Gathering,” or the first Sunday of the regular church year, is fast approaching. For many, this is a time of re-commitment to their faith community, of “getting back into the swing of things” and reconnections. Many congregations will begin their year with new faces in their pulpits, an added service, or other changes to the way they do things.

Rev. A. Powell Davies (1902-1957) preached the sermon from which this excerpt is taken on September 10, 1944. Even ninety-four years later, his message rings true. Why do we go to church? Because we can be more together than we are by ourselves.

from “On Going to Church”

by Rev. A. Powell Davies (1902-1957)

Let me tell you why I come to church.

I come to church—and would whether I was a preacher or not—because I fall below my own standards and need to be constantly brought back to them. It is not enough that I should think about the world and its problems at the level of a newspaper report or a magazine discussion. It could too soon become too low a level. I must have my conscience sharpened—sharpened until it goads me to the most thorough and responsible thinking of which I am capable. I must feel again the love I owe my fellow men (and women). I must not only hear about it but feel it. In church, I do.

I need to be reminded that there are things I must do in the world—unselfish things, things undertaken at the level of idealism. Workaday enthusiasms are not enough. They wear out too soon. I want to experience human nature at its best—and be reminded of its highest possibilities, and this happens to me in church. It may seem as though the same things could be found in solitude, but it does not easily happen so.

In a congregation we share each other’s spiritual needs and reinforce each other. In some ways, the soul is never lonelier than in a church service. That is certainly true of a pulpit, for a pulpit is the most intimately lonely place in the world—yet it is a loneliness that has strength in it. Perhaps this is because the innermost solitude of the human heart is in some paradoxical way a thing that can be shared—that must be shared—if the spirit of God is to find a full entrance into it.

We meet each other as friends and neighbors anywhere and everywhere, but we seldom do so in the consciousness of our souls’ deepest yearnings. But in church we do—in a way that protects us from all that is intrusive, yet leaves us knowing that we all have the same yearning, the same spiritual loneliness, the same need of assurance and faith and hope. We are brought together at the highest level possible. We are not merely an audience, we are a congregation.

I doubt whether I could stand the thought of the cruelty and misery of the present world unless I could know, through an experience that renewed itself over and over again, that at the heart of life there is assurance, that I can hold an ultimate belief that all is well. And this happens in church.

Life must have its sacred moments and its holy places. The soul will always seek its nurture. For religious experience—which is life at its most intense, life at its best—is something we cannot do without.

Source: from “On Going to Church” by Rev. A. Powell Davies, as reprinted in Without Apology: Collected Meditations on Liberal Religion by A. Powell Davies edited by Rev. Dr. Forrest Church.

Music can be one of the most healing balms in the face of tragedy and despair. Today, I bring you two hymn texts from Singing the Living Tradition, the Unitarian Universalist hymnal, both of which were sung at this past Sunday’s rededication service at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville, Tennessee.

May Nothing Evil Pass This Door

words by Louis Untermeyer (1885-1977)

May nothing evil cross this door,
and may ill fortune never pry
about these windows; may the roar
and rain go by.

By faith made strong, the rafters will
withstand the battering of the storm.
This hearth, though all the world grow chill,
will keep you warm.

Peace shall walk softly through these rooms,
touching our lips with holy wine,
till every casual corner blooms
into a shrine.

With laughter drown the raucous shout,
and, though these sheltering walls are thin,
may they be strong to keep hate out
and hold love in.

Spirit of Life

words by Carolyn McDade

Spirit of Life, come unto me.
Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion.
Blow in the wind, rise in the sea;
Move in the hand, giving life the shape of justice.
Roots hold me close; wings set me free;
Spirit of Life, come to me,
Come to me.

Source: Singing the Living Tradition, hymn #1, “May Nothing Evil Cross This Door,” words by Louis Untermeyer (1885-1977); and hymn #123, “Spirit of Life,” words by Carolyn McDade.

Please forgive me for my seeming indulgence today, but this is something I wrote this past Sunday that seemed to come through me rather than from me, and I want more people to read it.

Living What We Profess

by Jess Cullinan

This very morning, a week after terrible tragedy took two of their number and terrorized the rest, the congregation of the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church has once again gathered for worship. They have rededicated their sanctuary, seeking to reclaim its peace and serenity and joy. They are holding their heads high, and their beacons of hope, and thousands upon thousands of us across the land are with them in spirit as well.

The message going around and around my head from all of this is that this world has never needed our liberal religion more than it does right now.

We are living in a time when the language of the Bible and that peace-loving carpenter’s son are being used as weapons, as bludgeons, calling for fear and shame and separation, and in a time when we need nothing more than to come together, to love one another more deeply, and to heal our world.

There are things we know as Unitarian Universalists, but we are all too quiet about them:

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