Blogger Peacebang recently reflected on the Lord’s Prayer, and I found the words coming into my own mind recently on a Sunday during the time of silence after the sermon, so I did some Googling on Unitarian Universalist approaches to this traditional prayer.

The Rev. Roger Fritts, senior minister at Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church in Bethesda, Maryland, preached this sermon on December 15, 2002, regarding his own personal interpretation of the Lord’s Prayer. I think his approach is extremely thoughtful, on both an intellectual and spiritual level.

An Interpretation of the Lord’s Prayer

by Rev. Roger Fritts

Our Father who art in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy name;
Thy kingdom come;
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
And forgive us our trespasses (or debts)
As we forgive those who trespass against us;
(or: As we have forgiven our debtors)
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
(For thine is the kingdom
And the power
And the glory,
Forever.)

-Roman Catholic version with
Protestant changes or additions in italics

According to a 1992 study published in Newsweek, about eighty-eight percent of the people in the United States pray. According to a study of Unitarian Universalists conducted in 1987, fifty-seven percent of us say that we pray occasionally or often. I fall into this group of fifty-seven percent.

During difficult moments of my life I pray. I know that my silent, private prayer will not change the unchangeable. Nevertheless, in moments of doubt and fear my short, silent prayers give me comfort. They help me cope by calming me and soothing my emotions.

Some might say that my prayer is a form or regression. They might suggest that when I pray I am discarding my rational, logical side; I am setting aside what I have learned from science, and returning to my early childhood superstitious beliefs in God as a Santa Claus who will grant my prayer, if I say the right words in the right way.

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The Flower Communion, introduced by Czech minister Norbert Capek, is one of Unitarian Universalism’s most beloved rituals. Usually held in the spring, and in many congregations as the last service of the “regular” church year before either recessing for the summer or paring down Sunday services, the Flower Communion holds rich symbolism for our faith communities.

The Rev. Susan Manker-Seale, serving the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Northwest Tucson, Arizona, preached this sermon about the Rev. Norbert Capek’s life and gifts to our modern Unitarian Universalist faith for their own celebration of this ritual on June 11, 2000. It is a powerful story of a life lived truly, “out loud.”

Capek’s Gift: The Flower Communion

by the Rev. Susan Manker-Seale

We don’t have a lot of Unitarian martyrs. There is Michael Servetus, a Unitarian Spaniard burned at the stake in the midst of the reformation of the sixteenth century for writing his book On the Errors of the Trinity. There is Francis David, Unitarian Bishop of Transylvania, who perished in prison after the Unitarian King John Sigismund died and orthodox views regained power, this also in the sixteenth century. Then, though there has been much persecution toward Unitarians, we don’t hold any more martyrs in popular Unitarian history until we come to the twentieth century and the Czechoslovakian Unitarian, the Rev. Norbert Fabian Capek. Capek was imprisoned by the Nazis for listening to foreign radio broadcasts and preaching freedom. He eventually was sent to Dachau and was gassed at Hartheim Castle in 1942.

Seven of his letters from prison survived. Ten of his eleven children, I believe, survived. He is remembered by his grandchildren, and by the Unitarian congregation he founded, The Prague Congregation of Liberal Religious Fellowship, which numbered in the thousands of members. He is also remembered here in the United States, because every year Unitarian Universalists celebrate the Flower Communion Service, a service Capek created and which, like the flaming chalice symbol of the Unitarian Service Committee, has taken hold in the hearts of our congregations.

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One of the pillars of foundational religious thought that Unitarian Universalism rests upon is that of “Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science, and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit” (from the Sources, which are part of our Association’s bylaws). Dictionary.com defines humanism as “any system or mode of thought or action in which human interests, values, and dignity predominate,” or “a variety of ethical theory and practice that emphasizes reason, scientific inquiry, and human fulfillment in the natural world and often rejects the importance of belief in God.”

But what does that look like in practice? The Rev. Dr. Kendyl Gibbons, who serves the First Unitarian Society of Minneapolis, Minnesota, explores a “Humanist Identity” in this sermon from September of 2006. Rev. Gibbons is a member of the board of HUUmanists, and co-dean of The Humanist Institute.

from “Humanist Identity”

by the Rev. Dr. Kendyl Gibbons

Whether we are considering the exercise of leadership in this amorphous and sometimes fractious larger movement of humanism, or examining what is distinctive in our approach to the celebration of community, or bringing the voice of this congregation’s unique perspective into conversation among local Unitarian Universalists, many of us carry with us, as I do, the label of humanism. And as we approach the celebration of our 125th year as an institutional participant in the faith community of Minneapolis, it is worth asking again, what does it mean to be humanist? When we subscribe to that identity as a congregation, what are we claiming for and about ourselves? What resources does that identity offer us, and what kind of accountability does it ask of us? Of course, these questions do not have pat answers –- indeed, they have engaged the attention of some very fine minds for a century and a quarter right here, and I do not expect to dispose of them neatly this morning. Nevertheless, I think there are at least four things we can be assured of about what it means to embrace a humanist identity. It means, first of all, that we own a history together. Second, it means that we affirm a certain set of core values, specifically freedom, reason, and respect. A third implication is that we are engaged in a process of ongoing inquiry. And finally, it means that our conduct in all settings and circumstances, will be seen as representative of how humanists generally think and behave. Let’s unpack each of these four elements a bit.

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Today, many Unitarian Universalists and others are celebrating the ruling of the California Supreme Court, overturning that state’s ban on same-gender marriage. This is an issue that the Unitarian Universalist Association has been actively involved in, promoting the rights of any two people who wish to make the commitment to marriage to do so. Many Unitarian Universalist clergy have refused to sign marriage certificates for any couple until they are legally allowed to sign them for all couples who come before them.

This sermon (PDF), by the Rev. Sue Phillips, offers an inside perspective on the issue, written just after same-gender marriage was legalized in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Rev. Phillips won the 2005 Skinner Sermon Award for this piece, and is currently serving the First Parish Church of Groton, Massachusetts, as their Sabbatical Minister.

On Being an “Issue”

by the Rev. Sue Phillips

I spent months preparing this sermon. I read books on the history of the institution of marriage and how dramatically it has changed over time. I reviewed countless articles in the mainstream press assessing the political and social implications of same-sex marriage. I read and re-read the statements of religious conservatives who assert that opening marriage to gay and lesbian people would diminish the institution they hold to be the thread of our nation’s social fabric. I saved reams of articles that would have helped me offer a spirited political defense of gay marriage. I spent hours trying to understand the historical context out of which the public policy debate about marriage emerged. And I developed impassioned arguments about why gay marriage is an essential civil right. If I were straight, I would have preached about this issue long before I actually did.

But I’m not straight. I’m joyfully, abundantly, thoroughly queer. And so I have to talk to you about what’s ranging around in my heart. This means, of course, that I can’t with any integrity offer reflections on gay marriage as a social “issue,” no matter how much political and historical homework I have done. If I used that kind of intellectual analysis this morning I would be hiding. If I placed the authority for my reflections outside of my own experience it would feel like an act of cowardice, somehow, that keeps me hidden from you. And so it is from my personal experience that I want to speak with you.

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John Ockels, a lay-leader at the Red River Unitarian Universalist Church in Denison, Texas, preached this sermon decrying the “Theology of Running Away” two weeks ago to his congregation. He challenges the notion of religion as constant searching, and encourages us as Unitarian Universalists to put down roots, “Kudzu-style.”

And I, for one, say “AMEN.” How about you?

Shall We Dwell At the River?

by John Ockels

This morning Iʼm here to criticize what I call “The Theology of Running Away.” Enough already with the theology of Singing the Journey, This World Is Not My Home, running-all-over-creation-chasing My Elusive Dreams, and nostalgic floating around in a boat, never quite docking, never quite engaging. “I’ve been sailing all my life now, Never harbor nor port have I known.” Please. Enough with all that. Enough with the theology of always being on a journey. Itʼs officially wearing me out.

This morning I want to argue for an end to all that Hank Thompson “Iʼm Moving On,” “We are going, heaven knows where we are going, Woyaya,” Christopher Columbus, thereʼs a better world over yonder, “Go West Young Man,” Herman Hesse Journey To the East, somewhere over the rainbow, life must be better somewhere else or sometime else stuff. Forget all that. Makes me tired just to think about it.

This morning I want to argue for a radical theology of loving where you are, staying put, spreading out, putting down roots … and taking over. Like a plant. And doing so successfully, like a successful weed. In short I want to argue a theology based on radical engagement where we are standing right now. A theology based on observing how plants interact with their surroundings, not one based on continued roaming predator behavior. A theology of taking over like a weed. A theology of Kudzu.

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Easter can be a tricky holiday for Unitarian Universalists: our faith is deeply rooted in Christian teachings and traditions, but many of our members do not feel a close affinity with the particulars of the crucifixion and resurrection stories as they are told in the Bible. Many carry wounds from encounters within traditional forms of Christianity and the emphasis that is placed on the violence of the story.

However, as the Rev. Kathleen McTigue, who serves the Unitarian Society of New Haven, Connecticut, says very eloquently in her Easter sermon from 2006 (PDF), we are called as Unitarian Universalists to “look beneath” for “the kernel of gold, the core truth, still there underneath the layers of dogma.” That kernel, she says, can be found within our own hearts.

What We Bring Forth

by Rev. Kathleen McTigue

One of the great gifts of the Universalist part of our faith is that it teaches us to look for spiritual truth not in one particular religious tradition alone, but in many of them. It teaches us to look for lessons in scripture, but doesn’t let us think of those lessons as exclusive. It lets us move away from orthodoxies that don’t work for us anymore, but pushes us to look beneath them to find the kernel of gold, the core truth, still there underneath the layers of dogma.

But there are perils in Universalism, too. One of them is that if we’re not careful, we can sometimes dilute the particularity of each religious tradition. We can look so hard for a common denominator that we end up reducing down to almost nothing the specific beauty of a story, a tradition, a spiritual practice. That’s especially perilous at this time of year because the Jewish and Christian holy days of this particular season are intertwined, and always have been. It isn’t accidental that the celebrations of Easter and Passover fall at the same time. Jesus and all his disciples were Jewish, after all; and according to the gospel story the last meal they shared with each other before his arrest and death was the Passover meal. As long as Christians have celebrated Easter, they have done it right around the time when Passover is being celebrated.

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The Rev. Dr. Forrest Church, formerly the senior minister at All Souls in New York City and now the Minister of Public Theology there, announced in early February that he has terminal cancer.

Rev. Church has devoted his ministry to not just caring for his people and his community, but also to scholarship and theological writings meant to further the movement of Unitarian Universalism. Many of his writings can be found at his website, and he has also published many wonderful books.

The central message of his life, however, has been consistently that of how we are called to love one another. This sermon (PDF), given on February 3, 2008 to All Souls New York and a week later to All Souls Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma, is a culmination of that message.

Love and Death

by the Rev. Dr. Forrest Church

Audio from Tulsa can be found here.

Although I have delivered some thousand sermons on almost as many discrete topics, one way or another each circles back to a single theme. This tendency, I’m told, is not uncommon. Every minister worth his or her salt has one great sermon in them. It’s no wonder that we return time and again to its familiar music and uplifting chords.

Even church administrators pick up on their bosses’ penchant to repeat themselves. In certain instances, they have little choice. One of my storied colleagues, James Madison Barr of Memphis, Tennessee, had a habit of disappearing periodically, especially on Mondays and Tuesdays, when the office staff was composing and printing the weekly church newsletter. At the top of each newsletter, they included the sermon title for the following Sunday and a brief précis of its theme. Whenever Dr. Barr was missing in action and necessity forced the Memphis church administrator to be creative, she listed his forthcoming sermon as follows:

“The Great Mystery”
James Madison Barr, Preaching
What Dr. Barr will be preaching about this Sunday is a mystery, but we’re certain it will be great.

Whether great or no, my recurring sermon, too, is rich with mystery. Time and again, I return to the abiding themes of love and death. I do so this morning for personal reasons. Since there is no way, or call, to be artful about blunting this news, let me begin by reading you the letter I shall send tomorrow to the members and friends of this wonderful church, whose destiny and mine have been interwoven now for so many years.

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Unitarian Universalists make much of our intellectual tendencies, our “deep thoughts.” But our tenets strive to honor the whole person, mind and physical body alike.

In this sermon from October of 2007, the Rev. Jan Nielsen, serving the Universalist Church of West Hartford, Connecticut, reflects on the value of honoring our bodies in our spiritual lives. Honoring the body, she argues, can become a spiritual practice that leads to a deeper commitment to living one’s religious values.

Honoring the Body

by Rev. Jan Nielsen

The first time I ever danced in public was at school, in the fifth grade. I don’t remember exactly why we were dancing at school; it must have been an indoor recess on a rainy day. But I do remember very clearly what happened that autumn day. When I danced, a bunch of the other kids laughed, loudly. As the new kid in school, eleven years old and desperate to fit in, I was mortified. I loved to dance at home, in the privacy of my bedroom, but after that day, I swore I’d never dance in public again.

By the time I got to junior high, I did dance in public, at football games, while I twirled a baton. Title IX may have been the law of the land, but in the Arkansas schools, all the money still went to boy’s sports, big time. A girl could be a cheerleader, a majorette (my choice), or sit on the sidelines. For girls, there was no soccer, no softball, no basketball, no running, no nothing. (I used to shoot baskets in our hayloft wishing I could play on a team, all 5’4” of me.) What physical education classes we had were a joke, and they weren’t required. Big time injustice, if you ask me, but no one ever asked us girls.

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People come in to Unitarian Universalism for many reasons, and sometimes for nothing more than basic human companionship. What one person finds within our communities may be completely different than another, and our reasons for staying are just as varied.

The Rev. Suzanne Meyer, who serves the First Unitarian Church of St. Louis, Missouri, shares wisdom from an unexpected source in this sermon from 2003:

We Are All About Saving Souls

by the Rev. Suzanne Meyer

They say confession is good for the soul, and since I am talking about souls this morning, I’ll make a confession. Those cheap, paperback murder mystery novels are my guilty pleasure. I buy and read tons of them and know the names of all the authors. So one day when I was prowling around Border’s bookstore in the religion section, scanning the shelves in search of sermon fodder, I noticed a new book by a familiar author, a woman who calls herself Nevada Barr. She is the author of one series of those paperback mysteries to which I am addicted. What was that book doing over here in the religion section? I just assumed that another customer who shares my book browsing and buying habits had picked the book up in the mystery section, had walked over to peruse the religion section, and had absent-mindedly set the book down and forgotten it. So I picked up what I thought was another one of those murder mysteries with the intention of glancing at it and either buying it or returning it to its proper shelf.

The title of the book was Seeking Enlightenment . . . Hat by Hat. Odd title for a mystery, I thought. I turned to the table of contents, and much to my surprise, I discovered it had not been misshelved, after all. In fact, it is a book about the author’s search for spirituality. Oh, dear, I thought, not another one of those “I’ve found it” books. A mystery writer finds God, gets saved, turns her life around, becomes an evangelist . . . Nevada Barr, you disappointment me!

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In a religion that draws from many sources of inspiration and learning rather than one chosen scripture, it is the stories that we tell that communicate our Good News. This 2005 message from the Rev. Dr. Kenneth W. Phifer, now minister emeritus of the First Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Ann Arbor, Michigan, gives us four of those stories:

The Stories of Our Lives

by the Rev. Dr. Kenneth W. Phifer

Is there anything more compellingly interesting than a story?

Is there anything of greater importance to our lives than the stories we tell and the stories we listen to and the stories in which we invest our faith?

Life-like or fantastic, ancient or modern, short or long, poetic or prosaic, musical or visual, written or spoken, filmed or signed, stories are a vital part of the human scene. Epics, comedies, tragedies, novels, short stories, grand operas and plays, soap operas, situation comedies, even advertisements, and dozens of other forms of stories fill our lives.

One storyteller observed, “so much of living is made up of story-telling that one might conclude that it is what we were meant to do.”

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