A fundamental question for Unitarian Universalists is how to use religious language in a way that reflects the reality of our religious values, since many of the words and concepts we might be drawn to have been claimed by other traditions, particularly more conservative Christian points of view.

The Rev. Dr. Edward Frost explores the concept of “grace” in this reflection from this summer’s issue of Quest, the newsletter of the Church of the Larger Fellowship. He seeks to free the word, and the idea, from its traditional roots, allowing those Unitarian Universalists of differing theological viewpoints to reclaim its power.

Dr. Frost is the Senior Minister Emeritus of the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Atlanta, Georgia.

Amazing Grace

by Rev. Dr. Edward Frost

I watched the dancer leaping and turning, seemingly weightless, his movements apparently effortless. He made it look so easy that I knew anyone could do it. I could do it! The term that came to mind as I watched was, of course, “graceful,” the art of being at ease, and all parts of the whole in perfect accord and balance. The apparent ease is deceptive. Perhaps one has achieved grace when the struggle beneath it is not apparent. On reflection, the complexity, the discipline by which ease is achieved, becomes obvious. Every muscle has been trained, every movement practiced to the point of exhaustion. The artist has devoted life itself to coming to terms with the lack of ease, with the common state of dis-ease, with imbalance. The artist is in command of time, of event, of self, trusts both the event and the self to be as one. And that is grace.

Grace, when we see it, appears so simple, so natural, so “as it ought to be.” It seems that grace should be our common state. Yet we know that grace is rare, a triumph over awkwardness, a victory over dis-ease. Human existence, in its civilized state, is not normally graceful, harmonious, or in balance, but rather is at odds with itself and the universe. Humanness is divided against itself. Mind against body. Passion against restraint. Thought hunting down feeling to deny it. Spirit against material. Civil demands against private virtue. Future hope against past experience. We live awkwardly, gawkily, in tension, pulled by opposites, struggling to be free, sometimes surrendering to one tug or another just to ease the tension. It was James Thurber who said that just as we find our hearts in a close embrace we discover that our foot is caught in the piano stool.

(Read on … )

There’s a chill in the air in the mornings now, as we go deeper into September. And though I have not been able to have a garden in years, this time in early fall always brings to mind, for me, that last session of weeding, before pulling up the last of the harvest, the last few weeks of a farmer’s market, filled with squash and gourds, and soon, pumpkins. There’s something about growing food for your own table, or meeting the person who grew it for you.

From Rev. Max Coots, minister emeritus of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Canton, New York:

Gratitude for the Garden

by Rev. Max Coots

I am finished with my garden for the year—almost. Oh, I’m still playing that game of hide-and-seek with the inevitable frost. Every night, when the temperature counts down to begin the game, I do run out to help the last tomatoes hide.

It was a good year, more or less—more for the snow peas than for the corn, less for the spinach, more for the rest. The turnips were immense, like spheres of opulence, though the radishes went more to maggots than to me. My potatoes remind me of that old country quip: “How’d your padadas do?” “So-so. I got some the size a beans, I got some the size a peas, and then I got a lotta little ones.”

But it was a good year, more or less. Most everything that missed the drought, overcame the weeds, and survived the bugs got home safe enough. From time to time I can go to the freezer and the shelf of jars in my cellar and count my canned contentment. The harvest will be an attitude, not a time of year. And maybe I’ll be wise enough to feel a sort of litany of gratitude:

(Read on … )

This morning brings us a charge. The Rev. Dr. Marni Harmony of the First Unitarian Church of Orlando, Florida writes that we must see our connection to the world if we are to live in it fully. May none of us remain “chained to a rusty anchor.”

I Say It Touches Us

By Rev. Dr. Marni Harmony

I say that it touches us that our blood is
sea water and our tears are salt, that the seed of our bodies is scarcely
different
from the same cells in a seaweed,
and that the stuff of our bones is like the coral.
I say that the tide rolls in on us, whether we like it or no, and the sands of time keep running their intended course.
I say we have to go down into the wave’s trough to find ourselves, and then ride her swell until we can see beyond ourselves into our neighbor’s eye.
I say that we shall never leave the harbor if we do not hoist the sail.
I say that we have got to walk the waves as well as solid ground.
I say that anyone who goes without consciousness of this will remain chained to a rusty anchor.
May the journey find us worthy. Amen.

Source: “I Say it Touches Us,” Rev. Dr. Marni Harmony, minister at the First Unitarian Church of Orlando, Florida; Church of the Larger Fellowship Quest Newsletter, June 2006.