What Power the Cross
It’s taken three months to do the processing I needed after attending the Unitarian Universalist Christian Communion Service at General Assembly in Portland, to the point where I could write about the experience from a place of contemplation and growth rather than “wounded animal in a corner.”
I had such hope, going into that service, that perhaps these Unitarian Universalist Christians had found a better way to celebrate or honor the traditions of Christianity than what I’ve experienced before. I had such hope, listening to the really well-written and passionately delivered sermon by the Reverend Tom Schade.
I had such hope, when the congregation was asked to speak aloud mentions of the stories of Jesus, hearing, “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” “the woman at the well,” “Suffer the little children to come unto me,” and more, all such positive examples of the Rabbi’s teachings. Tears started coursing down my face, unbidden, and I couldn’t stop them. The back of my throat ached with suppressing my sobs, of relief, really, that here was a group of people gathered to celebrate the life of this great man, rather than revel in his death.
I was wide open, ready to go with the next stage of the service that I have had such trouble with in the past, that I have felt personally wounded by, the celebration of the Eucharist. I was ready to see, to feel how this might be a healing ritual, rather than a grisly one.
But then, it all changed. The sermon delivered, the remembrances spoken, and a turning point. The poem chosen to begin Communion was a particularly brutal one by Denise Levertov, full of violent, bloody imagery. I can’t find which poem it was at the moment, but it took me right back to that summer camp in the sixth grade, where counselors held us practically hostage in the main barn, telling all of us nine to twelve year olds the story of the brutal reality that was the execution of Jesus, where I was told, gasping with sobs and agony, that it was good that I could “feel his pain,” that it was “righteous.” (see this post for the whole gruesome story)
So, from crying in relief, I was suddenly on the verge of a complete meltdown of pain and horror. I had to leave the room when Rev. Schade began the litany, “this is my body broken for you.”
Afterward, many people I knew who had been there spoke in glowingly positive terms about the service, particularly the communion part, and I could only shake my head and try not to break down again. I felt so emotionally manipulated, so raw and tender, and on some level betrayed. These were “my people,” Unitarian Universalists, who gave this service, and it hurt so very much to have it turn out to be, to my mind, more of the same. More glorification of a violent death, after the promise of the celebration of a life lived in service.
I know these are my issues, that I still have not come to terms with, and not a universal experience of this particular service. I am not writing this to detract from those who gave the service, nor those who enjoyed or got meaning from it, but rather to illuminate the very real wounds that, for lack of a better term, “traditional” Christianity has inflicted on many people who are now members of our Unitarian Universalist congregations.
I can see the value in the Christian tradition, in the stories of Rabbi Jesus. I would like to see more of the positive aspects of this particular story come back into our churches, because I think we shy away too much in reaction to the many people who have been wounded by the negative application of the Bible and those who claim to follow it. But it’s a fine, fine line to balance upon.
So how do we bring this story into a current Unitarian Universalist perspective? How do we reclaim this great man’s teachings? I think it is in rejecting the glorification of the violence of his death, and doing so definitively. I think it is in focusing on how he lived and how we are called to live in memory of his example. I think it is in allowing Jesus to take his place as a venerable teacher, next to other venerable teachers of the world’s great traditions, rather than a symbol of guilt, of violence, of blood and gore and martyrdom.
I think it is in finding the healing message in his teachings, rather than the one of suffering.
In classical Unitarianism, as I understand it, the story of Jesus is the story of a man, not a deity, but a man who lived as closely to his god as he could. We must recognize that the religion of that man is not the religion that now bears his name. So why not translate the ritual of communion into an act of covenant, rather than one of contrition?
I would love to see a communion service that says, “take this and remember how we were together,” rather than, “this is my body broken for you.” This says, to me, “remember how I lived,” rather than “man, do you owe me for the sacrifice I made to wash you clean of sin.” This says, to me, that the teachings of Jesus and the way his example calls us to live our lives are far more important than the petty despot who had him killed.
Comment by Steph
October 2, 2007 @ 4:35 pm
I hear you.
I’ve read what you wrote twice and I keep thinking of a reading that I went to by a famous writer, who after a brief warning (”This is not for children”) launched into her own prose, which was an incredibly vivid description of a gang rape until just about death from the point of view of the battered and dying victim. The audience was rapt and afterward people called it brilliant. I felt so injured, so manipulated, so betrayed that I have just about blocked it from my memory.
I’m trying to figure out the larger issues that connect it to your experience. There’s a sense of witnessing violence, of participating in a group event even against your own will….? I’m not sure.