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By Dr. Bruce T. Marshall
February 28, 2010
Reading: A Wedding
Gay weddings and straight weddings are very much alike. People get
nervous, fuss over the details, giggle or cry, and get hugged by
friends and relatives when the service is over.
This particular service was for two men on the occasion of their
tenth anniversary—ten years before in our sanctuary, they had
exchanged vows: just the two of them and the congregation’s minister
at the time. Now, a decade later, they wanted to come before family
and friends to publicly reaffirm their commitment to each other.
At our meeting to plan the service, they were nervous. One of them
worried, “What if someone makes fun of us?” The other said, “That’s
their problem. Besides, only our friends will be at the ceremony.”
That didn’t mollify his partner. He could talk about the ceremony
for only short spurts and then he would shake his head, and repeat,
“Oh my, oh my, oh my.” They had written statements to say to each
other which they showed to me. “Are these appropriate?” they
worried. I told them that what they had written was perfect.
At the ceremony itself, we set up chairs so that this couple was
circled by family and friends. I welcomed the guests and spoke
introductory words, then turned to the couple so that they could
share their vows. Each spoke of hard times during their years
together, of illness and late-night trips to the hospital emergency
room, of their conviction that each was absolutely there for the
other, that their love was what made life worthwhile and what truly
had kept them both alive. “We’ve never had much money,” one said,
“and we never will. But money isn’t what matters in life. We are
rich in so many ways.”
Each read his vows from a written script, each stumbled over words
from time to time—their voices were not strong. But their statements
to each other were eloquent. Here was something basic: two people
who cared for and had helped each other in this difficult,
frightening, often brutal world—and who pledged to continue making a
life together.
I felt honored to participate, honored to be present. It was
everything a wedding should be.
From Taking Pictures of God by Bruce T. Marshall
Sermon: What If We Weren’t Here?
Most of us have seen the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Maybe you’ve
seen it several times, like just about every Christmas. So you might
know the story.
The main character is George Bailey (played by Jimmy Stewart). As a
young man, George Bailey has a dream: he’s going to become an
architect. He is going to leave the little town that he’s been stuck
in and make something of himself, he’s going to get away from the
family business, the Bailey Building and Loan. But then his father
has a sudden heart attack and George steps in to take over—because
people in the community depend upon that building and loan.
Otherwise, there would just be the big bank, owned by the terrible
Mr. Potter who cares only for money.
Over the years George, just by being himself, becomes an important
and beloved member of the community. But he doesn’t think of himself
that way. Deep inside, he considers himself a failure. Because what
has he done in his life? He’s never been able to make good on his
dreams. He’s the head of the second largest financial institution in
town, which is to say that it’s the smallest financial institution
in town. It struggles year after year against the big bank, which is
where all the smart money is.
And then as happens in movies—and real life too—something goes
wrong. $8,000 is mislaid. It’s the margin between solvency and
bankruptcy. George faces ruin: both financial and that of his
reputation. He goes on a tear and in his anger and frustration and
despair, declares to the world and to the heavens, “I wish I’d never
been born.” The world would be better if I had never existed.
Unbeknownst to him, George has been assigned an apprentice guardian
angel named Clarence to watch over him. Clarence has the power to
grant George his wish: a glimpse of what his town would have been
like without him. In this world without George Bailey, he finds
himself in a place quite different from what he knew. The little
savings and loan, well, that was gone, plowed under by Mr. Potter’s
bank. People who George had helped had not received that help, and
their lives were much the worse for it. And the little town where
people cared for each other had become a hard and crass city.
It makes me wonder. What if...what if Unitarian Universalism had
never been born? What Davies Memorial Unitarian Universalist Church
had not survived the competition with the big guys in the religion
business? We’re kind of a small town building and loan, nothing
glitzy, just trying to be of service to our members and our
community. What if we weren’t here?
Now, I’m no Clarence, the apprentice guardian angel. I’m also not a
movie director who can create a set that magically brings this
vision of an alternative world to life. But I have some thoughts I
would like to share. On this Sunday that we kick off the annual
canvass that provides financial support to this congregation for the
coming year, let’s consider: What if we weren’t here?
• • •
The reading with which I started told of a re-commitment ceremony of
a gay couple which took place in the mid-1980s at the congregation I
served on Long Island. It was a simple ceremony, but it’s one of
those times I remember because it was personally so important to
those involved: both the couple and those who had gathered to be
with them. It would not have happened had that congregation not been
there because ours was the only religious organization in our
community at that time where a gay or lesbian couple could come for
what we called back then a ceremony of commitment.
And when a new organization called PFLAG—Parents and Friends of
Lesbians and Gays—needed a safe place to meet, they came to us. And
when the AIDS epidemic first appeared and most mainline
organizations looked the other way: we didn’t. The first
organization on Long Island to support people with AIDS was located
in our community, partially because that congregation was there.
I have officiated at many services of union for gay and lesbian
couples, starting in the early 1980s, as have many Unitarian
Universalist ministers. These were not legal ceremonies because the
state didn’t recognize them. But with Unitarian Universalist
ministers performing these ceremonies across the nation, people were
going to begin to ask, “Well, why aren’t these legal?” As more
people attended these services of union—both gay and straight
people—and experienced how deeply serious these commitments were,
they were going to ask, “Why are we discriminating against these
people?”
Would the current movement toward marriage equality have happened
without Unitarian Universalist involvement? Maybe. But it wouldn’t
have happened as fast. And even though we have a long way to go on
this, there is a solid core of support that our congregations
provide. It wouldn’t be as far along as it is, if we weren’t here.
• • •
Let’s change our focus to this region Washington Unitarian
Universalism. What difference has it made that our faith has been
present in this community for almost 200 years?
It almost didn’t happen. Religious liberalism in Washington
struggled during its early years and just about fizzled after the
Civil War. At the time, there was one Unitarian church—just
barely—and no Universalist churches in the Washington DC area. I say
“just barely” because the little building which had been the
congregation’s home for over fifty years was dilapidated, and the
congregation had shrunk to a point where it was not really viable.
Ministers came and went without making long-term commitments, and
financial support was dismal. There was talk of disbanding this one
lone Unitarian church, known as First Unitarian Church of
Washington. Or of reorganizing as a Congregationalist church.
In the face of these threats, a few committed members stuck it out.
They raised money from throughout the nation to make sure there was
a Unitarian church in our nation’s capital. And so in 1877, First
Unitarian Church of Washington moved into a new building and
reorganized as All Souls Church, Unitarian—an institution that
continues to this day.
What difference did that make? Why has it mattered that there has
been a continuing Unitarian and then Unitarian Universalist presence
in the Washington area. Well, let’s follow another thread, another
realm in which Unitarian Universalists have made a difference: civil
rights.
For most of its history, Washington, DC was segregated. Our nation’s
capital had been built largely by slaves and had the culture of a
Southern city. In the 1930s, it was just about impossible for an
integrated group to find a public place to meet or to have a dinner.
An exception was All Souls Church whose facilities including the
dining room were open to all. This was a small thing, but
significant: a crack in the armor of segregation. Eleanor Roosevelt
paid several visits to All Souls in appreciation for this stand the
church had taken.
When A. Powell Davies—namesake of this congregation—came to
Washington to be minister of All Souls Church in the mid 1940s, he
made a commitment to challenge segregation. He pledged to boycott
facilities that were for whites only and encouraged members of All
Souls to do the same. The congregation assembled a list of
restaurants that were open to all—and they distributed this list
throughout the city. Ten thousand copies of this brochure were
printed. Again, a small thing, but another crack in the armor.
By the early 1950s, the stature of A. Powell Davies was such that
three sitting Supreme Court justices attended All Souls: William O.
Douglas, Hugo Black, and Harold Burton. Of particular importance was
Harold Burton, former mayor of Cleveland, a Republican appointed to
the bench by President Truman, and a lifelong Unitarian. In 1954,
the question of the constitutionality of school segregation came
before the Supreme Court. Harold Burton is credited with making
Brown vs. Board of Education a unanimous decision by convincing
several reluctant justices to take this stand. The unanimity of that
decision gave it a force that a split decision would not have had.
Let’s move on to the 1960s. By this time Unitarians and
Universalists shared a solid history of commitment to civil rights.
When the Unitarians and the Universalists joined their two
organizations in 1961 to form the Unitarian Universalist
Association, the Civil Rights movement became a focal point of our
efforts. While larger religious organizations tended to be reluctant
to get involved, the UUs plunged in. In 1963, the March on
Washington for Jobs and Freedom, featured substantial UU
participation, with All Souls Church serving as a gathering point.
When the UUs joined with hundreds of thousands of others on the
Washington Mall, they heard Martin Luther King’s “I Have A Dream
Speech,” participating in one of the watershed moments in American
history.
And so when in 1965, Martin Luther King Jr. called on clergy to
participate in a march on Selma, Alabama, many Unitarian
Universalist ministers responded. Among those was Rev. James Reeb,
who had recently served as associate minister of All Souls Church in
Washington. Leaving a restaurant in Selma one evening, he and two
other UU ministers were attacked by a mob, and James Reeb was
killed. Martin Luther King, Jr., gave the eulogy at a memorial
service held in Selma.
King said of James Reeb, “His death was the result of a sensitive
religious spirit. His crime was that he dared live his faith…”
The public sympathy for this clergyman who had sacrificed his life
was a key factor in convincing Congress to pass the Voting Rights
Act, then being prepared by President Lyndon B. Johnson. Just over
40 years after that, an African American was elected president.
What if we had not be there? Would someone else in the Washington
area have taken up the slack in the 1930s and 1940s as tentative
efforts toward de-segregation were replaced by more potent actions.
Would the Supreme Court have acted with the same strength in
outlawing school segregation? Would the Civil Rights movement have
had the same number of allies in powerful places. Would the Voting
Rights Act been passed? Would Barack Obama have been able to mount a
serious campaign?
Of course, we cannot say for sure. But we can say that throughout
the years, Unitarian Universalists have been present, making the
case for human rights, human dignity. Taking small steps that later
led to big steps. Starting small things that have sometimes become
big things.
• • •
What about Davies? We’re a small congregation. We don’t possess the
power or the influence enjoyed by some of our neighboring UU
congregations. What would it matter if we weren’t here?
Well for those who live in Prince George’s County and surrounding
areas, there would be one less option for seeking a religious path
emphasizing human worth and dignity, where faith involves
questioning, where we are encouraged to live our beliefs through
action in the world.
If we weren’t here, this region would lose a progressive voice whose
people have worked to end segregation, promote human rights, create
a safe space for those at risk in the larger society, advocate for
public housing, promote services to those in need. Prince George’s
County would lose a community that seeks to affirm diversity, to
bring people together. We would lose a place that affirms the arts,
poetry, music and their role in enhancing our lives.
If Davies weren’t here, the Unitarian Universalist Association would
lose one of its few churches that are racially and culturally
diverse. Strange but true: Unitarian Universalist congregations that
were on the lines opposing segregation have done a pretty lousy job
in creating diverse congregations themselves. But there are
exceptions, like Davies. If Unitarian Universalism is to survive and
prosper into the future, our congregations will look a lot more like
Davies than the typical UU congregation today. If we were not here,
Unitarian Universalism would lose a congregation that demonstrates
how diversity and religious liberalism can work together.
And what about couples who wish to be married but don’t fit into the
conventional categories. During my time as a minister I have
officiated at something like 1,000 weddings, and just about all of
them in some way defied the conventional. There have been gay and
lesbian weddings, as I have already mentioned. But also people of
different religious backgrounds, different races, different ethnic
heritages who sought to create a common ground. And there have been
people who did not fall into conventional religious categories,
wanted to make a ceremony that was personal, centered around the
vows they would make to each other.
And what about those who seek a memorial service for someone they
loved. And want this service to be about what was important to them
about this person, not so much about religious doctrine. Who wanted
to come together and celebrate this individual’s life as they also
mourned his or her loss.
And what about parents who want their children to learn how to make
their own ethical choices, to choose their own directions in life?
And who would like their children to have an appreciation of the
faiths of other peoples, not just knowledge of the beliefs and
traditions of their own religion?
And what about those for whom a little quirkiness in a religious
community is not a bad thing—that stretches us and helps us
experience the world in new ways.
If we weren’t here, where would such people go?
• • •
This is the kickoff sermon for this year’s annual pledge drive. It’s
the most important canvass you’ve had in a long time. You might have
heard that line before, like in previous canvass sermons. This time
around, it happens to be true. You are now in the beginning stages
of your search for a new settled minister. If you can bring a
talented, committed minister who shares your vision, Davies will
prosper. Of that, I am confident. But if the new minister doesn’t
work out—if he or she is not up to the task of leading this
congregation, then Davies will struggle. It is that simple.
You will be sending out a packet of information to prospective
candidates. It will contain photographs of the church and church
activities, newsletters, sample orders of service, information about
this community in which you are located, vision statements, anything
that helps give a sense for the personality and the dreams of this
congregation. But the most important part of the packet—the page any
minister who knows what he or she is doing will look at most
carefully—is the financial statement.
What the prospective minister will be looking for is not just how
much he or she will be paid, but whether this congregation can
support its vision. Can it provide adequate staffing? Can it keep
its building in a condition that is attractive and welcoming? Or
will most of the congregation’s time and resources be used trying to
scrounge money to keep the place afloat? That’s what the prospective
minister will be looking for.
I love this congregation: the people here, the personality of this
church, the supportiveness of the community and, yes, the feeling of
Home Sweet Home. I am sorry that so much energy gets used up trying
to make ends meet. I do look forward to a future in which the
congregation’s attention can turn more to vision and mission, to do
what Davies does best.
So when you are contacted to make a pledge, I hope that you will be
generous. And please do make a pledge. Pledges are not cast in
stone. They can be changed, as circumstances change. Sometimes
people say, “My finances are uncertain for next year so I can’t
pledge. I will contribute, though.” That’s a zero pledge, for the
purposes of budgeting. Far better to make an estimate of what you
think you’ll be able to do.
• • •
Let me conclude by returning to the movie with which I began, It’s a
Wonderful Life? Remember Clarence, the guardian angel. I think
Clarence is a good model for an interim minister because we have
similar goals: to find what is best in a person or in a community
and help foster that.
You might recall what Clarence was working for: wings. He was trying
to earn his own set of wings. That’s what I’m about too: wings, but
not for me. What I want is wings for Davies, to enable you to take
flight, to soar toward what you can be.
A successful pledge campaign this year would be a big step toward
earning your own wings.
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