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A
perhaps-upsetting, probably befuddling, hopefully thought-provoking
service by (and mainly for) the Rev. James Dace, inspired by the Rev.
Dr. Davidson Loehr.
Last Spring,
in the Meadville/Lombard Theological School’s “Journal of Liberal
Religion,” there appeared an article titled: “Why Unitarian Universalism
is Dying.” Its author, The Rev. Dr. Davidson Loehr, is the senior
minister of the First UU Church of Austin, TX. He was, also, the only UU
participant in the Jesus Seminar—one of just 200 scholars invited from
all over the world—so he is no intellectual lightweight and, however
controversial, his opinions should be carefully considered. That article
of his from last Spring is the source (much edited and paraphrased by
me), especially of Part I.
Part I:
“Why Unitarian Universalism is Dying”
 he
movement called “Unitarian Universalism” has been dying ever since the
two groups merged, and its slow but steady death is the elephant in the
room that few in the UUA want to face, let alone talk about. Between
1970 and 2000, the UUA lost over-12,000 adult members, a decline of more
than 7%. But, during those same 30 years, the population of the U.S.
increased by over-37%. With our membership about what it was at merger
in 1961, we cannot pretend that these facts paint a picture of health.
To see how this happened, we go back to the beginning:
For the
better-educated, the supernatural world ended with the late-18th century
Enlightenment and the birth of a whole host of natural sciences which
changed our picture of the world. By 1800, most people still thought the
world was just 6,000 years old; Thomas Jefferson believed no species
could ever become extinct. This was the worldview that was to change
almost completely during the 19th century.
Theologians,
preachers and churchgoers had to decide whether to hold on to the old
faith or accept the emerging picture from the sciences that challenged
it. The voices that wanted to keep the same safe feel on Sunday
mornings—many of them in Unitarian churches—urged denial of the new
knowledge. But they lost, and the voices that won were those that
trusted the future more than the past and expected their religion to
reframe its message, accordingly.
So, with the
courage of a pioneer spirit, a few Unitarian leaders left their
tradition of 18th century Christianity. But, in leaving, they left
behind a faith with its own rich understanding of the human condition,
its fall and its cure. Rather than seeking a new, distinctive vision and
faith tradition of their own, 19th century Unitarians began following
the path that has led us to being a group of over-educated, increasingly
marginal, people.
In place of a
new religious center, Unitarians moved toward a political center based
on an unbalanced concern for individual rights (unbalanced, because
there was not the equal concern for individual responsibilities. Their
sacred scripture—or, at least, their main reference document—became not
the Bible, but the Bill of Rights. This isn’t bad, but it is a political
center, not a religious one. Unitarian leaders had moved out of theology
into psychology, sociology, anthropology and politics.
Universalism, on
the other hand, died because its pleasant answer—“All dead people go to
heaven”—no longer fit the questions people were asking: in the 20th
century, liberals were not worrying much about where dead people went.
By mid-20th century, the religions of Unitarian Christianity and
Christian Universalism had each mostly exhausted their spirits: neither
Unitarianism nor Universalism was a vibrant force. What was significant
about them was not theological, but political and cultural; both, to
differing degrees, had become identified with America’s well-educated
liberals.
So, when the
Unitarians and the Universalists merged, there was no common set of
religious beliefs (beyond a disinterest in the supernatural), no shared
understanding of the problems of being human let alone any prescriptions
for their cure. In other words, there was no religious "salvation
story," no unique efforts for satisfying deep spiritual yearnings that
have always marked serious religions, no instructions for followers on
how the living of their story would make their lives more useful and
fulfilled.
Without a
religious center—with no more than a social/political center inspired by
generic cultural liberalism—the UU movement had become redundant. By the
late-1970s, UUs were complaining: “Our children don’t know what to tell
their friends they believe.” Looking back, the problem was not that kids
didn’t know what they believed; it was that adults—including too many
ministers—didn’t know what they believed that had any religious
relevance any more.
We didn’t know how to tell others—let alone ourselves—who we were in any
profound sense; we were unable to voice why we mattered any longer. We
were—and still are—best known to most people only as the butt of
Garrison Keillor’s jokes. We no longer asked hard religious questions,
questions like: “Are there deep and abiding truths capable of sustaining
honest spiritual quests without supernatural underpinnings?”
Christianity,
Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, and others, each have deep
and seasoned wisdom gleaned from their fertile mythic truths, teachings
that have helped billions to become persons of responsible character
over the centuries.
No one would
want to set something as trivial as Unitarian Universalism in such a
list of real and noble religions. But Unitarian Universalism was never
meant to be a religion: It is a name we gave ourselves, a name for all
those cultural liberals coming to our churches; it gives us an identity,
something our children can say to their friends.
Thus, for
Unitarian Universalists, religion was replaced by politics. The UUA and
most UU churches have circled their wagons around unquestioned
assertions by loud political leftists for so long that we’ve not noticed
we are no longer critical: we have no distinctive religious vision and,
what’s worse, we don’t even seek one, leaving us to focus solely on the
individual in the here-and-now (though we do like to think a few dead
people from 150 years ago were, also, members of our private club).
“I do not
believe Unitarian Universalism can be saved,” concludes Davidson Loehr;
“It’s too political, too self-absorbed, and too paltry. But I do know
that many people are hungry for truths that can set them free rather
than mere political posturing that just draws attention to them.”
Part
II: “Unitarian Universalism: Dead or Alive?”
Unitarian
Universalism: alive or dead? Like Davidson Loehr, I think it’s on
life-support, unlikely to be saved. But, whatever its condition, does it
really matter anymore?
After almost three-and-a-half years, I’ve stopped writing my column for
the “Faith” section of the Saturday Pueblo Chieftain: I was running out
of things to say and raising too many unanswered questions for myself.
(I also discovered how seductive it was to start thinking I really knew
what I was talking about.)
Now I work with a non-profit, interfaith coalition of 21 churches on the
west side of Colorado Springs helping to meet city requirements and
neighborhood objections to opening a soup kitchen at one of those
churches. Since all those churches call themselves “Christian”
(including the Mormons), the first thing I wanted the Director to
understand about me was: “I am not a Christian.” He replied: “You do
have faith, don’t you?” which I took to mean “Was I religious?” I
answered “Yes, I’m a Unitarian Universalist;” and, after a pause, he
said: “Well, that doesn’t matter.” (He meant, of course, that I was
“acceptable” to work with that organization but, once again, I was
forced to ask myself: does being a UU make me “religious”—and, more to
the point, does it matter?)
In the 19th century, Unitarian Christianity and Christian Universalism
were, indeed, religions but, as Davidson Loehr said, by mid-20th
century, both had largely exhausted their spirits. And, while Loehr
suggests that the merger of the two groups into Unitarian Universalism
was never meant to make a religion—just a self-referential identity—I,
for one, believed it was my religion: through ministerial training and
in my years as a parish minister, I never questioned that: having grown
up with no religion, I needed to have one, and Unitarian Universalism
was my chosen religion. (Upon recent reflection, however, I find myself
seeking, once again.)
I was once asked
by a friend—a minister of another denomination—to describe the religious
makeup of a “typical” UU church. Eventually, I answered: we’d likely
have a few Christians; maybe twice as many responding to Nature’s way or
to an Eastern religion; a much larger group would call themselves
Humanists or atheists or agnostics; and the rest—perhaps even a small
majority—could be listed as “none of the above” (which is a polite way
of saying that they don’t have a clue).
We take pride in
such religious diversity, even seeing UU churches as “way stations” for
seekers to come and learn before moving on. But does having so many
individual religious paths among us make Unitarian Universalism, itself,
a “religion?” “Unitarian” and “Universalist” are still valid theological
positions, but a point of theology, by itself, does not make a religion.
Affirming our UU Principles (Loehr calls them “The Seven Banalities”) is
important, but what distinguishes ours from those affirmed by other
denominations?
I believe one
key reason that Unitarian Universalism is dying is because it has
nothing to say that has not been said already (and in better ways) by
other religions; there is too little of that which energizes and
inspires members of other religions. So, what are we missing? I suggest,
for me, three things:
First, as Loehr said, we don’t have a religious “salvation story” of our
own: we have no united approach to satisfy our innate urge for
connection to the realm of the spirit; no distinctive perspective of
meaning and purpose for humankind; there is no collective sense of why
and how we should be living our own story in order to make our lives
more useful and fulfilled.
Every respected
world religion has their own mythology, their own salvation story, to
guide and inspire believers. What does Unitarian Universalism have
—other than the “story” of political liberalism (which, Davidson Loehr
points out, requires victims in need of “rescuing” so rescuing liberals
may feel virtuous)?
For the second thing that is missing, consider this: For Christians, the
season of Advent has just concluded, the days that lead to celebrating
the birth of Jesus, the start of their salvation story. For them, Advent
is a time to expect —and get ready for—the unexpected, a time of
anticipation and preparation. All other real religions have such times
as part of their story: times for reflection, times of anticipation and
preparation, times for celebration; what does Unitarian Universalism
have that is not borrowed from somewhere else?
The third thing
missing, for me—probably the most profound reason I believe UUism is
dying—can be illustrated this way: The Rev. Mike Tipton, formerly
minister to the Pueblo UU congregation, is now in Kiev, Ukraine,
working, primarily, to train managers in the business sector. Hired by a
Ukrainian entrepreneur who spent many years in the U.S. as a UU, it is
understood that a part of his work is to assist the very few UU
congregations there, especially their homegrown ministers.
Mike writes:
“Though these groups are small, they have a passion for this faith that
is totally lacking in the U.S.; they see the open expression of their
personal religious beliefs as a privilege rather than a right. Ukrainian
UUs begin their worship with a heartfelt time of reflection on that
which drew them there. They hold hands as they share this,” he says,
“and I found myself in tears the first time I entered into their circle,
so sincere, so wondrous, so holy; it flows, and it is real, very real.”
(In other words, for them, it matters: perhaps it must be taken away
before it can, again, be found.)
But that, I
believe, is the main reason UUism as a movement is dying: we are missing
that sense of what is “real;” we take it for granted; it no longer
matters. Our focus on the individual has led to a Romanticism that goes
back to those few Unitarians who left Christianity with a pioneer
spirit; we delight in seeing each individual UU as a lone rider out on
the vast plains with nothing to fence him/her in—certainly not anything
like an organized religion.
By being fixated
on the individual—and typically denying all but the rational—we lost our
religious center. We tend to become smug knowing we have the right
politics and the correct ecological sensitivity; we no longer see the
need to push ourselves toward a genuine spirituality. Without a
religious center, we have deluded ourselves into believing that this is
a religion; it may much have value for us but, by my way of thinking, it
is not a real religion. What we are missing—what I am missing—is that
overwhelming heartfelt sense of the sacred, the sincere spiritual
reflection which draws us together on a common path.
Humankind cannot
live by bread alone--and UUs cannot grow in politics, alone. What
demands do we place on ourselves to move toward becoming more
spiritually mature, toward reconnecting with a religious center of our
own? Coffee-hour fellowship and social action committees are important,
but they do not build a foundation for the spirit; they, alone, cannot
push us toward deeper, more reverent lives. Besides bread for physical
survival and politics or bettering society, we must believe that it
matters.
Too many seem to
have stopped asking religious questions: we still ask questions of
science (to explain WHAT we can know); we still ask questions of
morality and ethics (to learn HOW to better live together); “But,” as
Albert Camus wrote, “one day, the question of why comes into it, and
everything begins in this weariness tinged with amazement.” It is our
religion that tells us WHY it matters…why we matter.
It’s been said
that: “Seekers are looking for a path; pilgrims are following a path.”
I’m not sure we’re even seekers, anymore; but I am sure there are very
few pilgrims amongst us. We may have many thousands of individual
private paths, but what is the UU path? Being a pilgrim must begin in
the heart before it moves to mindful purpose; is that possible for
Unitarian Universalism, anymore?
What is left
that matters for today’s UUs? When I was writing my newspaper column,
readers struggling with their own religious questions would sometimes
write me, like: “Is there such a thing as a group which is united in an
intelligent quest for truth? It's a lonely world for those of us who are
not so-called Christians; there’s no place to meet where we can offer
each other friendship and hope, encouraging greater understanding and
inspiration to live better lives.”
Is there a group
united in an intelligent quest for truth?” Many might say this describes
“Unitarian Universalism,” but I don’t think it is united in any “quest
for truth” (intelligent or not). What unites us is not religious or
spiritual but political and cultural. There’s nothing wrong being part
of such a group, but I wish it was a religion.
Is there “a
place to meet where we can offer each other friendship and hope,
encouraging greater understanding and inspiration to live better lives?”
I think this could describe some congregations that now call themselves
“UU” (even as the movement called “Unitarian Universalism” is dying).
Perhaps the
greatest value of a UU church is the freedom it allows for people to
discover their own religious beliefs so they may live better lives, more
useful and more fulfilled. But by focusing, almost exclusively, on
political and social issues, we are not encouraged to pursue a far more
essential mission: to become a pilgrim following a religious path,
rather than stay seeking a political path as “do-gooder” or an agitator.
True, one may be both a pilgrim and an agitator at the same time (like
the Evangelicals), but, I think, being a pilgrim following one’s
religious path should come first (again, look at the Evangelicals). The
peril for Evangelicals, of course, is that their “religion of certainty”
leads to closed minds and a demanding, intolerant agitating; the peril
for liberals is that their agitation often comes from minds so open they
want to tolerate everything and, thus, end up with nothing of their own.
To help us
become pilgrims on our religious path, I believe that today’s UUs need
to understand two things: first, whether it was meant to be a religion
or not, Unitarian Universalism is dying because its center is not
religious but political. By accepting that Unitarian Universalism is not
“a religion,” perhaps we may feel freer to passionately join with others
seeking a broad-but-common religious path to follow—the way of a true
pilgrim.
And the second
thing today’s UUs must accept is this: if this is (or ever was) a
religion, we’ve had it way too easy (which, probably was one of its
chief attractions). As Davidson Loehr puts it: “To plant seeds for any
noble religious future, we need to understand what every great world
religion has taught: that the treasures of honest religion must be
earned; that the way is narrow and few will even find it, let alone have
the courage to follow it. We need our religion to make the very highest
demands upon us; we need our religion to raise our sights so we can see
what Lincoln called “the better angels of our nature.” Then, we need to
live that faith, but, being human—easier said than done.
How can our
religion make upon us its highest demands? By being receptive to it.
Lately, I’ve been looking into something called “Practical Theology.”
This is not “ivory tower” theology (“how many angels can dance on the
head of a pin?; “did Adam have a belly button?”) and it’s not Liberation
Theology (seeking scriptural authority advocating more power for the
oppressed in poor nations). Practical Theology is a way to live
reverently while acting: It begins with periods of heartfelt reflection
(some might call it prayer), asking, “Is what I am about to do worthy of
who I am?” and, then, more reflection and discernment before I act again
(a far cry from my usual “let’s do something NOW and hope it’s not
wrong!”).
I do seek a
church that “offers fellowship and hope, with greater understanding and
inspiration to lead a better life.” That, for me, is a church with a
non-dogmatic approach that emphasizes the spiritual before acting
politically through encouraging the discipline of silent reflection. (As
an example: after a long time of reflection at a recent Quaker silent
meeting [my mind whirling around, trying to solve an accumulation of
personal problems], this message got through to me:”It’s not about you.”
What did it mean? How am I to live it? Could it mean that, while faith
is always personal, it can never be private? More questions. )
What do I think
is left for today’s UUs? While I think Unitarian Universalism as a
religious movement is dying, long live those UU congregations whose
members are committed to pursuing honest and profound religious paths;
paths that are, as an ancient theologian put it, “useful to us, and
worthy of God.” Within some UU churches, there is still the freedom to
choose such paths. For myself, as an “old” new-seeker, I like the way
those Ukrainian UUs open their worship, beginning with heartfelt
reflection and open sharing —which can lead to renewed questioning and
further reflection before acting in the world.
To CLOSE: a much-too-brief time of heartfelt reflection as do
those Ukrainian UUs to begin their worship (but in silence): what draws
you here? what path do you seek? Reminding yourself as you reflect and
question in time to come: It’s not about you…and, you are blessed.
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