First Universalist Unitarian Church

Wausau, WI

Lay Led Service of Oct 30, 2005

Prelude: Autumn Leaves/Autumn in New York

Please join me in responsive reading 439, found in the back of the hymnal.

We gather in reverence before the wonder of life—

The wonder of this moment

The wonder of being together, so close yet so apart—

Each hidden in our own secret chamber,

Each listening, each trying to speak—

Yet none fully understanding, none fully understood.

We gather in reverence before all intangible things—

That eyes see not, nor ears can detect—

That hands can never touch, that space cannot hold,

And time cannot measure.

-- Sophia Lyon Fahs

Chalice Lighting: On December 1, 1955, a tired seamstress boarded a city bus in Montgomery, Alabama. She was relieved to find an empty seat in what was then called the “colored” section. Later, as more white people entered the bus, she did the unexpected, she refused to give up her seat. Her courageous act that December day ignited the flame that sparked the modern civil rights movement. Speaking of that movement, Rosa Parks said, “The only thing that bothered me was that we waited so long to make this protest”. Rosa Parks died this past week. Let us light our chalice this morning in her honor. Let the flame that we see remind us of Rosa Parks and of the relationship that exists between belief, action and character.

Chalice Music: “We Shall Overcome”

HYMN 347

The hobgoblins may now come forward for the story.

Children’s Story: God Has Many Names by Mary Ann Moore

Offertory: “Million Dollar Baby”

Reading by Matt Doering

...we are so used to the idea that psychical events are willful and arbitrary products, even inventions of the human creator, that we can hardly liberate ourselves from the prejudiced view that the psyche and its contents are nothing but our own arbitrary invention or the more or less illusory product of assumption and judgment.

The fact is that certain ideas exist almost everywhere and at all times and they can even spontaneously create themselves quite a-part from migration and tradition.  They are not made by the individual, but they rather happen - they even force themselves upon the individual's consciousness.  This is not platonic philosophy but empirical psychology.

- Carl Jung "Psychology and Religion"

Moment of silent reflection:

Responsive reading: What UUs believe

1. We believe in the freedom of religious expression. All individuals should be

encouraged to develop their own personal theology, and to present openly their

religious opinions without fear of censure or reprisal.

2. We believe in the toleration of religious ideas. All religions, in every age and

culture, possess not only an intrinsic merit, but also a potential value for those

who have learned the art of listening.

3. We believe in the authority of reason and conscience. The ultimate arbiter in

religion is not a church, or a document, or an official, but the personal choice

and decision of the individual.

4. We believe in the never-ending search for Truth. If the mind and heart are

truly free and open, the revelations which appear to the human spirit are infinitely

numerous, eternally fruitful, and wondrously exciting.

5. We believe in the unity of experience. There is no fundamental conflict between

faith and knowledge, religion and the world, the sacred and the secular, since they

all have their source in the same reality.

6. We believe in the worth and dignity of each human being. All people on earth

have an equal claim to life, liberty, and justice – and no idea, ideal, or philosophy

is superior to a single human life.

7. We believe in the ethical application of religion. Good works are the natural

product of a good faith, the evidence of an inner grace that finds completion in

social and community involvement.

8. We believe in the motive force of love. The governing principle in human

relationships is the principle of love, which always seeks the welfare of others

and never seeks to hurt or destroy.

9. We believe in the necessity of the democratic process. Records are open to

scrutiny, elections are open to members, and ideas are open to criticism – so

that people might govern themselves.

10. We believe in the importance of a religious community. The validation of

experience requires the confirmation of peers, who provide a critical platform

along with a network of mutual support.

I BELIEVE: Ingrid Clark Zavadoski
First of all, I want to say that it is a privilege to stand up here this morning and share my religious journey thus far with you, but also a privilege to belong to a faith community that allows and encourages us to share our differences as well as our similarities. Although our topic is technically “This I Believe,” I think as fellow UU’s you’ll understand that coming up with a significant list of things that I can believe without question or hedging, was a bit of a stretch. Instead, this is going to be more of a snapshot of the things that I am thinking about right now in regards to my religious life.

But before I talk about my religious history, I’d like to share a recent experience with you and then pose a question that has figured largely in my life this year.

As some of you know, my mother passed away from lung cancer a little over two months ago, at age 65, She was a UU at heart, as is my father, and although my parents took me to my first UU church (a story in and of itself) we lived too far from a church when I was growing up for us to be active.
During my mom’s illness, she spent a week on life support in an Intensive Care Unit near her home in Georgia. My father, sister and I spent a great deal of time at her bedside, and my sister, ironically the lone Christian in our family, took solace in reading scripture and praying as my mother lay there unconscious. The reason I say my sister being the lone Christian is ironic, is because on the societal level, of course it is we UU’s who are the minority. During my mom’s stay we got regular visits from the hospital chaplain and church volunteers who came to pray with us, and for my mother. Because Christianity is the dominant faith in our culture, during times like this, when people (hospital clergy, coworkers, friends, etc,) want to offer support it is often in language that UU’s find difficulty in relating to.

So, I did what many UUs do. When the chaplains came to pray, I did the mental version of a kind of reverse Mad Libs. Do you know the word game I am talking about? The one where someone tells you a part of speech, but not the context, and you have to fill it in? So, when someone would come and offer to pray for us and would say “God,” I would find myself thinking, “Noun, referring to something all-powerful, and benevolent.” When they would say “Heaven” I would think, “Place, representing all that is good and desirable.” There was a lot of translating going on, and a good amount of trying to see the goodness in people that were offering the prayers, even though they were trying to comfort me using concepts that I don’t personally embrace.

So, I could fill an hour with all of the theological implications of this time in my life, but feeling somewhat alienated in what was an overwhelmingly sad situation isn’t really my point. Where I began to struggle a little was when I started feeling resentful of the comfort and confidence my sister seemed to take from her text, the Bible, and in the fact that many of the people that came to visit shared her common religious language. Ironically, many times in the past I had even said despairingly that Christianity was for people who needed the security of certainty, and had congratulated myself because I didn’t.

The question that came to me as I stood outside my mother’s ICU room was, what does Unitarian Universalism, my chosen faith, have to offer me in times of distress? Where was my book that I could flip open, certain in its ability to offer me comfort? Where was my blueprint of the afterlife and a certain belief in its infallibility? Where was my assortment of strangers standing ready to offer words of support that were religiously meaningful to me? Certainly it didn’t help that I was a thousand miles away from my church home at the time, but it felt like the things that drew me to UU’ism, things like freedom of religious and intellectual thought, and a commitment to social justice, weren’t feeling so comforting at that moment. So, my question again, was, what does our faith have to offer us in times of distress?

Putting the question aside for a moment, I’ll back-track and tell you a little about my young religious life. First of all, I can honestly say that I was originally drawn to UU ism because of what I didn’t believe. Growing up in Bible Belt, it wasn’t long into my childhood before I realized that I was different than many of my peers.

So, as a child my life was peppered with moments of minor religious conflict, like when my best friend Mark and I were sitting on the jungle gym in my back yard and he tried to explain to me what being saved meant, and why I was clearly going to hell because I hadn’t been. I was also invited to more Summer Bible Camps than you could shake a stick at every year. It seems that everyone was vying to get me as a conversion credit. In one particularly vivid Vacation Bible School, I remember an overly enthusiastic SS teacher sharing what her experience of being saved was like. (Keep in mind that she was talking to a group of seven or eight year olds.) She described going into her closet and waiting for Jesus to come, and how she waited and waited, and that finally he came and she had an ecstatic experience which involved lights and glowing, and ended with her spending at least a day or so in there basking in his glory and her new-found condition of being saved.

So, what did I do that evening when I got home, of course? I went into my closet. The truth of the matter is, that the whole thing seemed highly dubious to me. And not only dubious, but perhaps not entirely desirable. But I was willing to give closet-sitting a try, just in case. What affected me the most about the teacher’s story was how emphatically she believed what she had experienced, and how happy she was about it. But I have to say that even as a child I knew I was never going to be “saved.” I didn’t expect to see anything in the closet, and I didn’t.

So as I was growing up, one thing that really interested me was other peoples’ belief systems. I’m sure I was the only 7th grader in the history of the Rockdale County school system to write a report on the Jonestown Cult massacre. While my classmates were giving reports on Huck Finn and Anne of Green Gables, I was writing about religious cults and poisoned grape kool-aid. For a long time my career goal was to be was a deprogrammer - someone who rescued people from religious cults with logic.

Later, as an undergraduate and a couple of years post-baccalaureate, I studied philosophy and comparative religion, still primarily because I was interested in different worldviews. Throughout this time I learned a lot about Metaphysics and Eastern Religions, most of which I have forgotten, and I have to say I largely ignored Christianity -- I think because I felt my childhood was so imbued with it that I didn’t need to study it. I have regretted this since because I have come to realize that perhaps the kind of Christians who condemn you to hell on the swing-set and the type who see Jesus in the closet, may not be the truest representation of a faith as rich as Christianity. So, in not being mindful of my biases, I missed an opportunity to learn.

So, if I was drawn to UU ism by what I don’t believe, then I have to ask myself whether or not that has changed for me. Given my opening story, the argument could be made that I am still to some degree reacting against the society in which I was raised – So, am I just being contrary? I don’t like the idea of being a naysayer simply for the sake of argument –particularly in my religious life.

So, back to my original question: When I asked my father what he thought UU ism has to offer us in dark times, he said that he felt that it was basically a hopeful way of looking at the world – and I think he is right. Embedded firmly within the Universalist theology in particular is a sense of possibility -- the idea that people are basically good, even if they don’t always behave that way, and yet that there is still reason for us to always strive to be better. My favorite sermons are ones that move me to take my faith, the faith that calls for us to believe the best about humans and our possibilities, out into the world and to try to improve it. And although I was in need of some spiritual comfort when my mother was in ICU, I was no more going to find it in the Bible as my sister did, than I was going to find Jesus in the closet.

I think that what I have learned in the past few months is that in listening with a kind ear and an open heart when someone offers a prayer in their faith tradition for my loved one, I am upholding our Unitarian Universalist principles. In recognizing that there is more that binds people of different faiths together than separates us, I am acknowledging our interconnectedness. There is always some sense of alienation in being in the minority – and maybe a twinge every now and then of uncertainty. My hope though, is that I can move my faith even further away from being a reactionary one – one defined against something-- and towards that which deepens our hearts, and takes us closer to the ideals that most faiths espouse – those of love, hope, charity, and unity.

I BELIEVE: Richard Olson

Some time ago some friends were over for a backyard barbeque. After dinner, the conversation turned to religion, which is not always the best topic at a social gathering.

Our conversation centered on the three big questions, how did we get here, why are we here, and what happens to us when we are gone. One of our friends, who is normally quite reticent, quickly explained his answers to all three questions. He was raised a Lutheran and his answers were in line with Lutheran thinking. For a moment I thought what a relief it must be to have that all figured out, or should I say, have it figured out for you. Then I thought again. Maybe that is right for him. I suspect he finds peace in having those questions answered. But that is not for me.

Other than those three questions, another one that seems to preoccupy humans, is the question, “what is the meaning of life?” I gave up the search for an answer to that question some time ago.

Not because I am cynical and not because I am lazy, or don’t care. I just decided that, instead of searching for the meaning of life, I instead would search for ways of making my life more meaningful. This search is much more personal and fulfilling.

I find meaningfulness in relationships with others, with my partner, my family, my friends, members of this church, and with my students. I find meaningfulness in quiet walks at Blue Gill Bay Park, in a quiet cup of tea, in the Tao, or just plain staring out the window. My partner Ray likens me to a cat in that regard. I find meaningfulness in knowing that I can make a difference, however slight that is. It may be helping a student with the imperfect subjunctive and having him say “I get it, I finally get it”. It might be when I tell a member of a covenant group that I will not give her a definition for the word “sacred” and finding out later that my refusal was enough to prompt her to search for a definition on her own. I find meaning in the simple and in the complex. Take my advice, give up the search to find the meaning of life and concentrate on what makes life meaningful to you.

The friend I mentioned earlier and I do have something in common, however. We were both raised in the Lutheran church, where my search for the answers began before I even knew what the questions were. That Lutheran church is still standing and operating. It is the ‘picture post card’ white wood frame church, nestled in the rolling hills of western Wisconsin. It is abutted by a cemetery rife with Scandinavian surnames; Hanson, Halverson, Jensen, Sorenson, Peterson, Olson. My mother’s grave is there. My father’s will be too. Mine will not.

After my mother’s death on Labor Day weekend some years ago, my father asked my sister, brother and me to join him for the Easter service. This was well after I had joined this church. I had a very eerie feeling during the service, feeling that this is the church that time forgot. Then I realized that that was probably what comforts some of the congregants.

I have fond memories of that tiny Lutheran church; hay rides, ice-cream socials, church picnics, vacation Bible school. I also have memories of esoteric and dogmatic lessons, lessons that when challenged brought a terse “just believe it” response. I am, however, grateful that my parents exposed me to theological Christianity. In fact, I still use the term Christian to describe myself. I consider myself an ethical Christian in that I try to live up to the ideas that Jesus supposedly promoted. But I no longer consider myself a theological Christian because I do not believe that Jesus was divine. I also believe that, for as much as I fight it, I am somewhat of a cultural Christian as well.

It is hard to live a culture, where the birth and death of what many believe to have been the messiah, is celebrated with such zeal and not participate in it. I drifted away from the Lutheran church as a university student, where I was exposed to all those corruptive ideas. But it wasn’t always easy to shed the ideas that had been pounded into me, however.

In my mid-twenties I began studying philosophy and religion on my own. I was an agnostic for awhile. Then I was an atheist. Then I embraced nihilism. Followed by a long stint of existentialism. I can no longer recall how many “-isms” I have explored but I do know that I have found an ism the suits me quite well, that being Unitarian Universalism.

Sometimes it is hard to pin point why this is such a good fit for me. Naturally the freedom to develop one’s own personal faith is a draw. So is the social justice that we, as a denomination, and as a church, seek both locally and worldwide. The wonderful community that we have at this church is another factor. I am so grateful for those who have come before me, whose time and money kept our front door open so I could come into this wonderful sanctuary some 15 years ago.

But I do have some criticisms. I think we have low standards of ourselves, and this could be a denominational trend. I believe we take membership too lightly.

Instead of an attitude of “yes, of course you can join our church but nah, you don’t have to come, make a commitment, join a committee, just sign the book”, we should make it mean something to be a member. People should be proud to be a member, serve on a committee or sit on the Board. At a recent conference I attended on church growth I learned that at some UU churches perspective members need to take an Introduction to UUism class before they can join. I think we should consider that.

I also am critical of our aversion to aggressively spread our faith. I am talking about the dreaded “E” word, evangelism.

It is awkward to use that word because it evokes an image of some of the hard-line churches some of us grew up at, or, even more so, the image of the modern Evangelical churches whose ideas generally run contrary to ours. What we should be doing, both at this church and as a denomination, is, instead of criticizing or ignoring the Evangelical church, we should be studying them. We should learn from them.

Once again, back to the friend I mentioned earlier. He believes in Heaven and Hell, with a capital “H”. I do not. But I do believe in heaven and hell with a small “h”. I believe there exists for all of us, in varying degrees of intensity and length, both hellish and heavenly states of mind, being, experience and existence.

Seconds ago an unwed mother in Ethiopia gave birth to her ninth child. The father is no where in sight. She will spend her day counting grains of rice. If her children do not die of AIDS, they will die of hunger. If not of hunger, then from violence or war. Her life is a living hell, right here on earth.

Seconds ago a woman from an upscale Chicago suburb gave birth. Mother and child are both doing well. Father is beaming with joy. The insurance will take care of everything. The child will be blessed with adequate health care, good schools, trips to Disney World and generous birthday parties. At this moment mother and father are experiencing heaven on earth.

In a metaphysical sense, I do not know how I got here. Nor do I need to. I do not know what is going to happen when I am gone. The answer to that question is inescapable. I may know it tomorrow or in thirty years. I may never know it. It does not concern me. But as to that third question, the question of “why we are here”, I think I have a pretty good idea and that is to at least try to make the lives of other people seem a bit more heavenly and a lot less hellish.

Song: Please stand as you are able and sing one of my all time favorites,

“Let There Be Peace on Earth”.

Benediction: Ambivalent Credo from Packing Up For Paradise by James Broughton

I have faith but I doubt it

I praise Providence but I fear it

I respect honesty but I shun it

I try for humility but I muff it

I seek insight but I question it

I honor compassion but I lack it

I love life but I tire of it

I care but I don’t care

and that’s the sum of it.

Postlude: “The Things We Did Last Summer”