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By Members
August 10, 2003
Speaker "Saved" as Child
(Joyce Dowling)
Speaker "Saved" as Young Adult (John Crestwell)
Speaker "Saved" as Older Adult (Dick Wilcox)
Good News (poem by John Corrado)
Sharings (Angelique Berry & Bill Grenoble)
INTRODUCTION
For those of whom may be relatively new to Unitarian Universalism, I
thought I'd start with a brief explanation about our theology and
how it might relate to salvation.:
Universalist PT Barnum said, "To the Universalists, heaven in its
essential nature is not a locality, but a moral and spiritual
status, and salvation is not securing one place and avoiding
another, but salvation is finding eternal life . . . Immortal life
is existence regardless of quality. Eternal life is right life,
here, there, everywhere."
Thomas Starr King, a mid-19th century Unitarian & Universalist
minister said that, "The Universalists believe that God is too good
to damn man, while the Unitarians believe that man is too good to be
damned by God."
For several centuries Unitarians argued with Christians about
whether God was one or three - Unitarian vs. Trinitarian. Later when
Humanism took root, we said "Unitarians believe in One God - at
Most". After the pagans arrived, reflected in our adding to our
principles the sixth source - earth centered traditions - we say, "UU's
believe in One God - more or less."
I heard that once a young Unitarian was visiting a Christian church
when the pastor asked if she were saved. She whispered, "In my
church, we aren't allowed to get lost."
Well, one way of feeling saved from our miseries in this world is to
have a good sense of humor, though this IS a serious topic.
How are we defining Salvation? Well here is how Merriam Webster
defines it.:
deliverance from the power and effects of sin; the agent or means
that effects salvation; (Christian Science) the realization of the
supremacy of infinite Mind over all, bringing with it the
destruction of the illusion of sin, sickness, and death; liberation
from ignorance or illusion; preservation from destruction or
failure; and deliverance from danger or difficulty
The word "salvation" comes from the root salvare which means to save
but also means soothing, comforting, healing, bringing together of
broken parts, and regaining of health.
Today we offer you three stories of being saved. I put them in
chronological order from youngest to oldest - not the people telling
them, but the times in their lives they occurred.
MY STORY by Joyce Dowling
I was dedicated a Unitarian as an infant, almost 10 years before the
merger of Unitarians and Universalists. My grandfather had found the
Unitarians just a few years before my birth because he was looking
for a good choir to sing in. My father decided to try it because of
the emphasis on the freedom of beliefs and critical thinking. He was
a political conservative, though, and raised us rather
traditionally. I had an older sister and 3 younger siblings. I
thought we had a pretty normal life, as it was in rural New York
state. I knew we were a little different since we traveled to the
city to go to church, while attending the only church in town - a
Presbytarian, I believe, only on special occasions. But we went to
the 3-room school house, attended Girl Scouts with my mother
leading, and knew most everyone in town.
Then when I was 9, my youngest sister barely 1 yr. old, my mother
went into the hospital and never came home again. She didn't die;
she was mentally ill. We weren't allowed to talk about it, so there
was no mourning process. My aunts, who lived far away, offered to
take one or two of us, but my father didn't want the family to be
split up, so he decided to single-parent us. He didn't know much
about the nurturing role, though, and thought it was, for the most
part, unnecessary. His main role was still to earn money for the
family, so he became what some call "a workaholic" and we saw little
of him. We had housekeepers to take care of us when we could find
them, otherwise the older children (my older sister and I) took care
of the younger ones. The friends we once had were now being told not
to play with the motherless children.
One Sat., when my father was home and he was busy reading, as he
often did, I was looking for companionship. The house was full of
people, but no one wanted to play with me. It wasn't long after my
mother had left and I was feeling pretty miserable. So I did the
only thing that might bring me comfort - I went for a walk in the
woods, followed by my dog. I felt so bad that day that I started
thinking about whether or not life was worth living. For a while I
was thinking maybe it wasn't if I had to live it alone and I had a
good cry, but then my dog cuddled next to me. I could hear the birds
chirping and the leaves rustling. Life was all around me and I knew
I wasn't really alone.
I thought about my beliefs about God and Heaven and I didn't know if
I could believe those things or not. But I remembered my religious
education as a Unitarian and the thing I remembered most was that I
was allowed to choose my own beliefs. I didn't feel like I had much
control over my life, but I had control over my thoughts and my
beliefs and it was tremendously empowering. And I knew at that
moment that I wasn't alone and never would be - I was part of nature
and it was a part of me.
The song we heard, "Breaths" - the poem written by Birago Diop,
expresses that feeling for me. I don't know if my ancestors are part
of the nature around me, but it is easy to imagine that they are.
The introduction to the song is: "In the African world view, the
invisible world of spirit man and the visible world of nature exist
along a continuum and form an organic reality. The same is true of
relationship between the past, present and future." That is what I
felt that day and I carry that with me wherever I go, no matter who
is or isn't around me, and I feel that I can love life no matter
what.
SAVED BY A DIFFERENT FAITH
John T. Crestwell, Jr.
(as re-written for Freedom Xpress)
Guillaume Apollinaire has a poem titled “Come to the Edge” It reads:
Come to the edge. We are afraid.
Come to the edge. You’ll push us.
Come to the edge. They came to the edge.
He pushed them. They flew!
The first two lines of the poem reflect where I was about three
years ago. And I’m guessing you may be there too. Let’s see… Are you
a religious seeker? Do you ask a lot of questions that most can’t
answer? Are you tired of religious fundamentals that seem primitive
and rote? Do you see society as constantly defining God for you,
leaving you with a definition of that creative, sustaining force
that is too limited? Are you an “out of the box” thinker? Did you
grow up in a church or recently left a church frustrated by dogma
and/or rituals that seem meaningless? Do you find there is some good
in all faiths or that there are many paths and perhaps many
destinations? Are you jaded by religion in general yet feel a
longing in your spirit for revitalization and fellowship but there’s
no place for you?
I left theological seminary having answered “yes” to all of the
questions. I was not interested in being a Methodist preacher any
longer. Philosophically, I was no longer there. I didn’t go to
church for six-months. I spent time reading many things about other
religions, mythology, anthropology and science. I also wrote a book.
It was therapy for me. I assumed I was a pilgrim on a journey all
alone.
It’s amazing when you come to the edge and jump off how scary it can
be! We’re not accustomed to free falling alone. Our parents impart
many cultural and religious ideas within and it gives that
foundational support which carries us through life. But what happens
when we “grow out of the house” or the foundation cracks or even
breaks, so to speak, and we need new land to build a new foundation
for our emerging beliefs? We have a choice, move away from the edge
or jump off.
Well, what did I do? To make a long story short, I found a website
www.dmuuc.org and checked it out. I haven’t been the same. I cannot
prescribe your remedy but I don’t mind if you try what I did! I
jumped off and haven’t landed yet! There are people who are just
like you. You do not have to be alone any longer. JUMP!
AN EPIPHANY
By Richard "Dick" Wilcox
Thirteen years ago, in 1990, I was on a very satisfying business
trip to Geneva and Vienna. Satisfying in that the business part,
which involved overseeing the installation of a new computer system,
had gone very well, and also in that the trip had involved an
interim weekend in which I had been able to get a bus tour from
Geneva to Mont Blanc, which is only a couple of hours away. Mont
Blanc is the highest peak in the Alps, but I wanted to go there
primarily because of the cable car ride. After taking two successive
cable cars up to the 12,000 foot level, there is a horizontal cable
car ride 3-1/2 miles long, terminating in Italy, that crosses over
the various ridges and glaciers. It is one of the most spectacular
rides in the world. And I was there on a beautifully clear day when
you could see forever! What I didn’t realize was that at that
altitude more than half the earth’s atmosphere is below, so that the
air is very thin, and it is a very unhealthy location for anyone
whose heart is not pumping adequate oxygen into the arteries.
To make things worse, on the last evening of the trip I celebrated
by eating in a good French restaurant a meal that was very, very
delicious and very, very unhealthy. So I was not surprised when I
woke up the next morning with a substantial case of heartburn. But I
was surprised that the heartburn lasted not only through breakfast,
but also through the ride to the airport and the flight to Paris for
transfer to the international leg of the trip.
During the two-hour layover in Paris I realized that something more
serious than heartburn was probably involved. Although the
possibility of a heart attack crossed my mind, in my naive state of
knowledge at that time I thought that heart attacks presented a
crushing pressure on the chest and spread to the arms, neither of
which I was experiencing. I considered going into the city to the US
Embassy to seek medical advice. But then I would have to reschedule
my flight, and if something really was medically wrong the
logistical problems of health insurance and visits by family would
be horrendous. So I abandoned that approach.
After I was sealed in the cocoon of the cabin for the seven-hour
trip to Dulles, I considered what actions I might take to improve my
situation. I wondered if my decision not to stop in Paris had really
been smart, but it was too late then. So I considered what else I
might do. The conventional approach at that point is to pray for
help. But prayer is to some one or some thing. To whom should I
pray? What did I really believe? This was no intellectual exercise
in the Emerson discussion group on a Sunday afternoon – this was the
real thing, and the results really mattered to me.
It seemed clear to me that the universe is very well ordered and
operates according to a very consistent set of rules. It would be
easy to believe that this complex order was the result of some
superior intelligence. If someone wished to believe that, and to
call that superior intelligence “God”, I had no problem with that.
What I did have a problem with was the concept that sitting over
this order was some supernatural person or intellect or thing that
had the power to modify the rules on my behalf. It seemed to me that
the laws of nature were permanent and immutable, and the concept of
some entity arbitrarily modifying them solely in response to my
request was totally unacceptable to me. I simply didn’t believe it.
So prayer was out.
But I also realized that I did believe that our minds have
tremendous influence over our bodies and their operation. Any
physician will tell you that a patient’s mental attitude is
all-important to recovery, or to failure thereof. And there are
thousands of examples of terminally-ill patients who have willed
themselves to stay alive until some loved relative has arrived.
Although the mechanisms of this influence were (and are) poorly
understood, its existence was so universal that I could not reject
it. So I concluded that the most helpful thing I could do was simply
to decide to reach Dulles successfully – to harness my brain to
marshall my body to survive. This sounds naive and simplistic. But
it is really no more than an application of “The Power of Positive
Thinking”, which has worked successfully for many, many people. It
is important to note, however, that what I did was not a hope, or a
wish, it was a conscious decision – a determination. The rest of the
flight was given over to reinforcing that decision and strengthening
the determination.
Obviously I did reach Dulles successfully, where I was met by my
wife Jean who got me to a clinic. They determined that I had indeed
had a heart attack, and I was rushed to George Washington University
Hospital. There I spent ten days starting on the road to recovery.
Was this experience a “salvation”? Perhaps not in the usual sense,
but it certainly did provide comfort. And it was an epiphany, in
that it revealed to me what I truly believed. And still do. Last
March I underwent emergency surgery and spent a month in the acute
care wing of Washington Hospital Center. I find that the beliefs
which crystallized during that trans-Atlantic flight thirteen years
ago have not changed since, and seem to have served me well. So look
for me to be around for a good long time! (Dick is now memorialized
in our Virtual Memorial.)
"Hey, ain't that good news!"
John Corrado, a minister who once served this church, has written an
explanation of the gospel ("good news") of our faith in the form or
a responsive reading.
We believe there is a place at God's table for each and every child
of earth.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe the giver of life has been given many names and loves the
givers of all of them.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We are more interested in getting heaven into people now than
getting people into heaven later.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe that religious scriptures are open doors rather than
sealed vaults.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe there is still some holy writ yet to be written.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe true evangelism is more preaching practiced than
practiced preaching.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe peace and justice are not just words we form with our
lips, but realities we shape with our lives.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe in one race - the human race.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe we are one with the stars and trees and tigers and rivers
and all the stuff of life.
Hey, ain't that good news!
We believe our lives are all about growing hearts that love, minds
that seek, and hands that serve.
Hey, ain't that good news!
Amen.
The congregation was asked if they'd like to share stories of "being
saved by their faith" and several people responded. Here are some of
them.:
Angelique Berry shared about making a statement to her family that
Catholicism didn't speak to her and after an argument, she went to
the bookstore and found "Finding Your Religion" by Rev. Scotty
McLennan, which started her search. Then she donated that book to
our church library. Thank you, Angelique.
---------
Bill Grenoble: When I was growing up in the Lutheran Church, we
recited many creeds. I found myself wondering "Do I really believe
in ...". Thinking about what I was about to say or what I believed
in didn't exactly fit in the order of service. I learned that some
churches believe that the communion wine (sweetened grape juice)
represents the blood of Jesus while others believe that the wine
turns into the blood of Jesus and that one group would go to heaven
while the other would go to hell... I forget which one We were, but
We were the chosen ones.
In Bangkok I found a pamphlet written by a Buddhist suggesting that
if you read what the various religions are saying rather than the
exact words, the teachings become one. Kinda' hard to apply to the
communion wine, but perhaps that is merely the words rather than the
meaning. We can break bread and share wine (grape juice) as a sign
of community if we don't worry too much about the exact form of the
symbolism.
In the UU Church I have found a group that is willing to discuss the
matter of the communion wine while breaking Danish and drinking
coffee (or tea). A do-it-yourself religion. Or Do-it-to-yourself
religion... I find atheists and polytheists discussing the merits of
the Ten Commandments without the trump card "Believe as I do or You
will go to Hell!" Instead of rote recitation of creeds, we are
encouraged to build our own religions. There is room for everyone as
long as each one of us is willing to make room for everyone else.
An Indian (with a red dot, not a feather) friend knows that I go to
church regularly and that I sing in the choir. He asked if I am
"devout". My first reaction was "How can someone be a UU and be
"Devout"? What does a "Devout" Unitarian Universalist look like? A
Coan for the UUs.
I finally answered that "Yes, I am devout. I am devout in my
conviction that you have a right to be a Hindu and to practice your
religion as you see fit. If you were to visit our church wearing a
signboard declaring exactly what you believe in, you would be
welcome. You would find people willing (eager) to discuss your
beliefs from a point of better understanding, but there would be no
Right or Wrong."
In the discussion that followed, I agreed that while it would take a
lot of guts (might one say Chutzpah?) to walk into a strange church
with your beliefs listed on a physical sign board, it would not be
necessary to keep your beliefs hidden among Unitarian Universalists.
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