Why I Am a Unitarian

A Sermon delivered by Reverend Marlin Lavanhar, Senior Minister
At All Souls Unitarian Church in Tulsa, OK
Sunday, Aug. 12, 2007

I have always loved meeting new people.  I spent years traveling around the world with the intent of getting to know people.  However, ever since becoming a Unitarian minister, I’ve found meeting people a bit more complicated.  I did some traveling this summer, and I noticed that what consistently happens is, I strike up a conversation with someone, and we talk for awhile and a connection starts forming.  Eventually the conversation gets around to the question of what I do for a living. 

When I say I’m a minister, people get the most interesting looks on their faces.  With some people, you can see that they are doing a quick internal-review of everything they’ve said to me to make sure they haven’t sworn or said something heretical or incriminating.  Other people appear to be scanning for a potential exit strategy, just in case they are about to get proselytized.  The next question is invariably, “what kind of minister are you?” 

When I say I am a Unitarian Universalist minister it gets even more interesting.  Of course, most people don’t know what a Unitarian Universalist is.  And as you’ve probably discovered, it’s not that easy to explain.  I always try to find out a little about the religious background and biases of the person I’m talking to before trying to explain Unitarianism.  I find that knowing this helps me shape my answer in a way they can understand.  

For example, I find that if the person is Catholic, they often want to know if a Unitarian minister can get married.  If the person is a Buddhist, I know they’ll be interested to learn that our church has quite a few people in it who study and practice Buddhism and meditation.  I learned my lesson about knowing my audience, when one time I began explaining at length how Unitarians are not like fundamentalists, that we don’t judge or condemn people of other religions, and that in fact we find there are truths we can discover in all religions and cultures.  After my long explanation, the person looked at me and said, “Well that’s interesting. I am a fundamentalist!”  Ever since then, I always try to first find out where a person is coming from before answering. 

Surprisingly, only one person this summer handed me Christian tracts to read.  One was titled: Sin Busters: An Explanation of the Ten Commandments and Why Jesus is the Only Way to Heaven.  Another was titled:  Burn Baby Burn:  How Jesus Can Save You From the Fire of Hell.   

I eventually asked the woman how she knows that Jesus is the only way to heaven.  She said it was in the Bible.  I asked if she had read any other religion’s scriptures.  She said no, she didn’t need to, since she has the Bible which is the true Word of God.  I asked, what if she had been born in a Muslim or a Hindu country and was raised to believe the Koran or the Bagavad Gita was the one and only true word of God – how would that be different?  She said if that were the case she would probably be lost and confused.  I asked how she could know this, if she’s never studied the Koran or the Gita. 

As you can imagine, the conversation went downhill from there.  I tried to explain the benefits of an examined faith, one that employs a healthy dose of doubt and inquiry to test its assumptions.  I explained what theologian James Luther Adams said, that “an unexamined faith can only be true by accident.”  But my logic was mostly lost on her.  This gentle woman went away from our conversation knowing that Unitarian Universalists believe we can learn from all the great prophets and religions of the world.  And that we don’t think any religion has a monopoly on God or truth.  She agreed to pray for me and I told her I would gladly do the same for her.

One young man I met this summer was bold enough to admit that he believes religion is basically for people who need faith and superstitions in order to feel good about their lives.  He had a very scientific and secular view of life and death.  He’d never heard of a religion that took science very seriously.  So, he was interested in hearing about Unitarian Universalism.  He was surprised when I told him that many famous scientists were Unitarians.  People such as Charles Darwin who was raised Unitarian and who considered going into the ministry before becoming a scientist.  People like Linus Pauling, a Nobel Prize winner in Chemistry and Peace, and Alexander Graham Bell.  Also, Joseph Priestly, discoverer of Oxygen, who later became a Unitarian minister for a church in Philadelphia and regularly found Thomas Jefferson in his congregation.

Of course, once I mentioned Thomas Jefferson attending a Unitarian church, I had to mention some of the US presidents who were Unitarian like John Adams and John Quincy Adams, William Howard Taft and Millard Fillmore.  Like many people he was surprised to learn that so many of our countries presidents were Unitarian.  He asked me who some other famous Unitarians were so I mentioned people like: Florence Nightingale, Susan B. Anthony, Beatrix Potter, Henry David Thoreau, Frank Lloyd Wright, Nathaniel Hawthorn, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Ralph Waldo Emerson and others.  He was amazed at how many people who he admired from science, literature, American politics and social reform were Unitarians.

Our conversation centered mostly around the fact that a Unitarian church is not focused on trying to get everyone to believe the same thing, but rather encourages people to think for themselves. 

In our churches, I explained, people like to discuss and debate ideas and beliefs.  And that as a minister I do not preach doctrine from the pulpit that everyone is supposed to believe, but rather I offer inspiration, knowledge and stories to assist the congregation on a journey of faith and understanding.  I explained that what is important to us is not so much what people say they believe, but rather how they act and how they treat other people.  I told him that to me prayer does not change God, it changes the person praying.  And that coming to church for an hour on Sunday is not what makes a person religious.  Coming to church is merely preparation for religious living.

In the end I think this young man went away from our discussion with a new understanding that there is a religion that does not ask people to deny scientific truths and that is not based in old superstitions and anti-intellectualism.  He learned that there is a religion where he can come and continue to grow in heart and mind and spirit. 

A few of the people I found myself in discussion with this summer considered themselves to be spiritual but did not practice any particular religion.  They were very nice and were eager to discuss spiritual matters.  These people believed in a ‘higher power’ but were not comfortable using the word God.  Each of them, however, subscribed to the idea that everything in the world happens for a reason.  In other words, they believed there is a plan for existence that none of us can fully understand.  I appreciated the openness they had to learning and discussing important matters.  And also that science seemed to play an important role in their philosophy. 

Nevertheless, I find it troubling that they think everything happens for a reason.  They explained that they believed all experiences happen so that people can learn something.  I asked if that is the reason for the genocide in Darfur and the killing of Jewish men, women and children in WWII.  They said yes, everything that happens is leading us toward a higher consciousness.

I told them that I could not believe in a higher power that would use the brutalization and torture of woman and children and others as a way to teach humanity lessons.  I cannot accept a divine plan that includes rape and incest and tragedy.

They argued that we learn from these experiences and therefore they have meaning.  I told them that I’ve seen some people learn and grow from tragedy, but I’ve also seen others shrivel.  I’ve watched their lives contract, and they never learn or recover.  I explained that I agree we can learn and make meaning out of tragedy and misfortune, but that’s not the reason it happens.  I listened as these men and women went to great lengths to defend the idea that everything in the world happens for a reason and is part of a divine plan.  In the end we agreed to disagree and I enjoyed their companionship and the spirit of debate and discussion we had.

The problem I have with their philosophy is that if everything happens for a reason, then there is no good and bad and everything is ultimately relative and morally neutral.  I cannot accept that a heinous crime perpetrated by one person on another or by one people on another, is okay under any circumstances.  And I especially can’t accept this is the plan of an intelligent and benevolent God.  Or that this is some divine education plan for humanity. 

In one sense such a philosophy blames the victim of loss and tragedy.  Because if he or she had been smart enough to learn that lesson a different way, then the victim wouldn’t have had to endure the loss or violation or whatever tragedy happened.  When people who argue for this kind of philosophy get stuck without a reason for why a tragedy has happened they often fall back on the idea that the person must have done something bad in a past life.  This helps them preserve the belief that the world is fair and perfect.

The reason I am a Unitarian Universalist is because I do not believe the world is fair or perfect.  Natural disasters happen.  And they happen because that is how the physical universe is structured, not because the people who died in these disasters deserved it or because the people left behind had to learn a lesson.

My colleague Marilyn Sewell tells a story about a Christian woman she met, who claimed that the Tsunami that killed hundreds of thousands of men, women and children in Indonesia a few years ago happened because the Muslims in that country would not let the Christians celebrate Christmas.  She said that the Christians in that country went into the mountains to hold their celebrations and then the Tsunami hit and killed the Muslims of that nation as a warning.

This is the worst religious explanation I have ever heard.  It reminds me of the words of Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell after the disasters of September 11^th 2001, when they said God had lifted the divine protection of America because of organizations like the ACLU, Planned Parenthood and the growing acceptance of gays and lesbians.

I cannot accept a God that teaches lessons through violence and the killing of children and adults.  I’m a Unitarian Universalist in part because there is still a lot of bad religion out there.  There are a lot of people who practice an unexamined faith.  And I’m committed to making sure there is a religion offered, in which people are given the tools to examine and broaden their assumptions and beliefs.

There have been too many wars fought and people killed because religious people think that their scripture is the only true word of God.  And there are too many people who are rejecting all religion and replacing it with superficial beliefs that make morality relative, and therefore they look at a world filled with genocide and rape and torture and see a divine perfection in it.

I’m a Unitarian because I believe we need to respond courageously and thoughtfully to the perils of our times.  We need a faith that calls us to seek out the needy and to expose injustice.

A faith that prompts us to alleviate hunger and heed the cries of the poor.  We need such a faith because we live in a world in which people we love die.  And we all make mistakes that we regret, and sometimes hurt people that we care about.  And get hurt by people who may or may not care about us.  At these times we gain a lot from a loving, caring community to support us.  And we need a place to practice being human.  A place that encourages spiritual growth and discovery, and allows us to be intellectually honest in the face of life’s complexities.

One of the reasons I belong to this church is because I know that I continually fall short of living in a way that is as loving and as generous and as courageous as my values call me to live.

I belong to this church because I know I have the potential to slip into selfishness and greed and despair.  And I need a place that helps me sharpen my conscience and inspires me to live into my values.  A place that encourages me to hope and reminds me of life’s beauty and unexpected kindness and grace.  A community that challenges me to live up to what I am capable of.  That helps me engage in the most responsible thinking I can achieve.  In this church I am spurred toward my best intentions and endeavors.  And I am given the freedom to doubt and explore and make mistakes.  I’m reminded that there are important things I must do in this life.  And that together we can have an impact far beyond anything I could do alone.

Certainly there are other places where neighbors and strangers and families meet, but nowhere but in a church like this, do we risk being honest about our deepest yearnings.  Nowhere else do we engage in a ritual act of unification through singing and prayers and a covenant.  Nowhere else do we face life’s fears and pain and tragedies with others, with such honesty.  Where else do we cry together, laugh together, sing our ideals together?  Where else are we brought to the edge of life’s mysteries, and death’s complexities, and not given cheap answers or too neat explanations?

It is a holy enterprise to be a part of such a community.  It enhances life’s beauty with ceremonies of dedication and union and remembrance.  It helps us to mingle the dry uncertainties of our finite days with the glorious mysteries of the Eternal.  And in doing so it helps us turn adversity into character.  And to make meaning of the tragedies, the losses and the successes of our lives. 

It’s always fun for me to go out and explore new places and meet new people.  But I am truly grateful to be back here once again with you.  

Amen.