For summer services last year, the Unitarian Universalist Society of Iowa City, Iowa invited lay members to reflect on their beliefs as Unitarian Universalists. This is excerpt by Karen Fox, delivered on July 22, 2007, shows the natural progression of personal beliefs to the saving message of our movement. Many of the talks presented in the series are also available on the UUSIC website.

from This I Believe, what inspires me

by Karen Fox

Through reading, asking, listening and observing I have forged my own belief system that honors the vastness and wonder of nature and the Universe. I believe in that which is greater than all and yet a part of each; but that, for me is not an external god. I believe that if there is a God it is the energy of life and all of creation. I believe that that energy is what I am –what each of us is, so we are all a part of that God. I believe that we each decide our own purpose in being here, in being alive. There is no god in the sky deciding what we should be doing with our lives. Our purpose is what we each decide it is within our own being and understanding. I also believe that we are all one — part of that independent web of existence, part of that all encompassing energy, and that what we do, say and think has an impact on all other begins. Therefore compassion, striving to understand, and kindness are essential to healing humanity.

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The balance of science and religion, of the work of humanity versus the ineffable, can be hard to describe. This lovely song by Catherine Faber, set to images by Vu Trong Thu on YouTube, does a beautiful job of speaking to the complexity of the world we live in and seek to understand.

The word God in this piece may cause some readers pause — how do you hear this word in this context? Personally, I find it well in keeping with Rev. Michael Dowd’s treatment — god as the whole of creation, constantly growing and changing.

The Word of God

by Catherine Faber

From desert cliff and mountaintop we trace the wide design,
Strike-slip fault and overthrust and syn and anticline…
We gaze upon creation where erosion makes it known,
And count the countless aeons in the banding of the stone.
Odd, long-vanished creatures and their tracks & shells are found;
Where truth has left its sketches on the slate below the ground.
The patient stone can speak, if we but listen when it talks.
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote the rocks.

There are those who name the stars, who watch the sky by night,
Seeking out the darkest place, to better see the light.
Long ago, when torture broke the remnant of his will,
Galileo recanted, but the Earth is moving still
High above the mountaintops, where only distance bars,
The truth has left its footprints in the dust between the stars.
We may watch and study or may shudder and deny,
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote the sky.

By stem and root and branch we trace, by feather, fang and fur,
How the living things that are descend from things that were.
The moss, the kelp, the zebrafish, the very mice and flies,
These tiny, humble, wordless things — how shall they tell us lies?
We are kin to beasts; no other answer can we bring.
The truth has left its fingerprints on every living thing.
Remember, should you have to choose between them in the strife,
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote life.

And we who listen to the stars, or walk the dusty grade
Or break the very atoms down to see how they are made,
Or study cells, or living things, seek truth with open hand.
The profoundest act of worship is to try to understand.
Deep in flower and in flesh, in star and soil and seed,
The truth has left its living word for anyone to read.
So turn and look where best you think the story is unfurled.
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote the world.

Source: “The Word of God” by Catherine Faber, video from YouTube by Vu Trong Thu, and poem/lyrics from Echo’s Children. Hat tip, Ms. Kitty.

This lovely prayer was written by Elizabeth of “Elizabeth’s Little Blog.” It’s a great reminder that even in the little doings of our daily lives, there are beauties and miracles that can so easily pass us by.

Prayer by Elizabeth

all of all

love of all love, peace of all peace, depth of depth

so often, in the midst of all we do, as we are washing dishes… sending email… going to work… and doing all the things we do day in and day out,

we can forget that our time here on this earth is both a gift and a miracle.

do not let us forget.

because sooner than we think, a tomorrow will come and it will be our last tomorrow and we will have missed the miracle. we will have emailed, and worked, and complained, and watched tv through the miracle.

we will have let the sunrises, the fresh air, the warmth of a bed, the taste of our orange juice, the first snows, and the cricket chirping slip by as we go about doing all of our so important things.

we will have let our pain and struggles and our tasks and achievements and our accumulation of things obscure the enchantment and richness that can be life.

love of all love, peace of peace, depth of depth –

let us find the holy in all that makes up our life.

let us slow down. stop doing. and learn to simply be.

may we find the holy in our coffee, in the spider whose lovely eight legs carry her effortlessly over her web, in the kiss goodnight, in the hot meal, fuzzy blanket, and in the chill of the dark night air. may we be seekers and makers of the holy.

amen and blessed be.

Source: Prayer by Elizabeth of “Elizabeth’s Little Blog,” posted April 8, 2008.

To finish up National Poetry Month, this poem offers a glimpse of eternity.

Its writer, the Rev. Robert T. Weston, was a Unitarian minister for many years, serving the First Unitarian Church of Louisville, Kentucky, and helping to found Second Unitarian Church in Omaha, Nebraska. His son now serves as the consulting minister for the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Hillsborough, North Carolina.

The poem can be found as responsive reading #530 in the Unitarian Universalist hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition.

Out of the Stars

by Robert Weston

Out of the stars in their flight, out of the dust of eternity,
here have we come,
Stardust and sunlight,
mingling through time and through space.

Out of the stars have we come,
up from time.
Out of the stars have we come.

Time out of time before time
in the vastness of space,
earth spun to orbit the sun,
Earth with the thunder of mountains newborn,
the boiling of seas.

Earth warmed by sun, lit by sunlight;
This is our home;
Out of the stars have we come.

Mystery hidden in mystery,
back through all time;
Mystery rising from rocks
in the storm and the sea.

Out of the stars, rising from rocks
and the sea,
kindled by sunlight on earth,
arose life.

Ponder this thing in your heart,
life up from sea:
Eyes to behold, throats to sing,
mates to love.

Life from the sea, warmed by sun,
washed by rain,
life from within, giving birth,
rose to love.

This is the wonder of time;
this is the marvel of space;
out of the stars swung the earth;
life upon earth rose to love.

This is the marvel of life,
rising to see and to know;
Out of your heart, cry wonder:
sing that we live.

Source: “Out of the Stars” by Robert T. Weston, reading #530 in the Unitarian Universalist hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition, and also published online in many places.

This song could be known as the “Seeker’s Anthem,” I think. Singer-songwriter Peter Mulvey, a friend of mine from college, captures eloquently the yearning within so many people for deeper meaning, larger connections, but also the smaller balances of personal relationships. The most recent version of the song appears on his newest CD release, “Notes from Elsewhere.” There are also many mp3s available for free download on his website.

A Better Way to Go

by Peter Mulvey

I just came from the guru’s website
I’m still washing off the smell
Man, why don’t he just go on TV
And tell us all, “Give up or go to hell”

I was only looking if they had something to say
Lately it has been hard to get through my day
I was looking for something I just don’t know
I’ve been looking for a better way to go

(Read on … )

Another poem, in honor of National Poetry month, that you might hear in a Unitarian Universalist worship service or other setting, this time by Billy Collins. Mr. Collins was the Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001-2003 and is known for expressing big ideas with simple words.

I find this piece to be a wonderful metaphor for a spiritual journey, in addition to calling to mind many pleasant walks in the woods.

Directions

by Billy Collins

You know the brick path in back of the house,
the one you see from the kitchen window,
the one that bends around the far end of the garden
where all the yellow primroses are?
And you know how if you leave the path
and walk up into the woods you come
to a heap of rocks, probably pushed
down during the horrors of the Ice Age,
and a grove of tall hemlocks, dark green now
against the light-brown fallen leaves?
And farther on, you know
the small footbridge with the broken railing
and if you go beyond that you arrive
at the bottom of that sheep’s head hill?
Well, if you start climbing, and you
might have to grab hold of a sapling
when the going gets steep,
you will eventually come to a long stone
ridge with a border of pine trees
which is as high as you can go
and a good enough place to stop.

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April is National Poetry Month, and so I will devote the rest of this month’s postings to poetry that is either written by Unitarian Universalists or that expresses ideas one might find in our worship services and spiritual discussions.

This is probably my favorite poem ever, written by Wendell Berry. I first heard it in a Unitarian Universalist worship service all about poetry.

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

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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.

(Read on … )

The past few readings have explored the Unitarian Universalist perspective of the human place in the natural world, particularly in the context of evolutionary science. But what of our understanding of the concept of God, in the light of scientific progress? Indeed, many among our number have dismissed the idea of a deity as irrelevant.

However, evolutionary evangelist Rev. Michael Dowd has a way of bringing the language of faith into a marriage with scientific language in his new book, Thank God for Evolution! He argues that we need not abandon the language of religion as we discover more about the Universe around us, but that the use of metaphor is a valuable insight into the human experience of the Universe. His view of God is much larger than the traditional personal deity described in many faiths relying on what he terms “flat earth” theology, or theology developed when humanity knew the earth was flat and orbited by the sun. Science and religion can exist in a greater harmony, in this view, and enhance each other as we search for meaning in our lives.

The entire book is available as a free download at thankgodforevolution.com, and is very thought-provoking reading.

Experiencing God versus Thinking about God

from Thank God For Evolution!, by Rev. Michael Dowd

“Thinking about God is no substitute for tasting God, and talking about God is no substitute for giving people ways of experiencing God.” — MATTHEW FOX

Our hominid ancestors experienced Reality as divine. For them, Nature was majestic, mysterious, awesome, benevolent, occasionally severe, all-powerful, nourishing, and more. Virtually every human attribute (the bad, as well as the good) was not only mirrored but also magnified in the mysterious forces of the natural world. Our ancestors experienced Reality this way long before words would label the experience—indeed, before there were verbalized beliefs of any kind. Most beliefs, rational and irrational, spring from the womb of symbolic language.

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Charles Darwin’s The Origin of the Species was published in 1859, and is still causing furor today, particularly in the relationship between religion and science. As Unitarian Universalists, we strive for a foot in both worlds — allowing science to deepen our religious experiences and our religious experiences to deepen our understanding of science.

Rev. Jabez T. Sunderland (February 11, 1842-August 13, 1936), wrote about this very struggle in his 1902 book, The Spark in the Clod: A Study in Evolution. This excerpt describes his take on the nature of truth, and how advances in science enhanced his understanding of God rather than diminishing it, in direct conflict with traditional religious thought at the time.

Rev. Sunderland, originally a Baptist minister, converted to Unitarianism and served churches in Massachusetts, Chicago, Ann Arbor, Michigan, where he also served as a Unitarian missionary for the American Unitarian Association. His full biography is here.

As with all historical material, you may want to mentally substitute gender-inclusive language.

from The Spark in the Clod: A Study in Evolution

by Rev. Jabez T. Sunderland (February 11, 1842-August 13, 1936)

We have now before us, in brief, the two theories of the origin of the world, which present themselves to modern men asking for acceptance. Is there any question which one we must receive, if we are truth-loving, and care at all to have our beliefs based on realities?

And now we come to the important question of the relative religious influence and value of the two theories.

I know the fact that one is ancient and venerable, while the other is new, and especially the fact that one is contained in the Bible, while the other is not, may seem to give the greater religious claim to the theory of creation found in Genesis.

And yet is the claim necessarily valid? Has God no truth besides that which the Bible contains?Rather, if we are not atheists, must we say that all truth is of God, whether found on parchment or on stone; whether inscribed by pen held by human hand, or by wind and rain and ice and fire on mountain sides; whether written two thousand years ago in Palestine, or to-day on the face of the starry sky above our heads, or of the earth beneath our feet.

(Read on … )