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By Dr. Bruce T. Marshall
October 4, 2008
Reading: Why Should We Work for Diversity?
by Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley
The reading this morning is by Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley. Maybe some
of you knew Marjorie. She lived in Washington for awhile, was a
member at All Souls and also worked in public television here. She
died a few years ago.
I got to know Marjorie when I was serving the Unitarian Universalist
Fellowship of Huntington, in New York, on Long Island, where she was
living at the time. I remember when she started to attend. She was
African American and at the time there was only one other person of
color in the congregation. I wondered if she would come back.
She did. She returned again and again. We had conversations about
Unitarian Universalism, and I could see a struggle going on within
her. She had a strong identity as an African American woman. She
also felt that, theologically, this was her church. She was a
Unitarian Universalist. She kept asking: Do these parts of myself
fit together?
She ultimately decided to join the congregation, became
active—particularly in the realm of social justice. And then one
day, she surprised me. She said, “I think I’d like to be a Unitarian
Universalist minister. I’m going to apply to theological school.”
She resolved her struggle by deciding to work, intentionally, to
bring together these two aspects of herself: her identity as an
African American woman and her commitment to religious liberalism.
And so when she poses the question in this reading—why should we
intentionally work for diversity?—it has roots in her personal
story, her own journey, her decision to make a commitment to honor
both her cultural heritage and her religious beliefs.
“Why should we intentionally work for diversity? The responses to
this question vary widely. Of course, hard demographic realities
suggest much. But for me, beyond any demographic or sociological
justification, there is a theological imperative. Affirming the
inherent worth and dignity of every human being, for me, means
working to create places of worship where all who subscribe to a
liberal approach to religion can not only feel welcome, but enter
into worship settings that reflect the diverse cultural realities of
we the people. Congregations that reflect the pluralism of our
society are one step in beginning to transcend the social boundaries
that divide us from each other and from all that is, which some of
us call God.
“The task ahead is an arduous one. Indeed, diversity is one of the
most challenging tasks we will ever undertake as a religious
movement. What we are dealing with is not simply racial and ethnic
diversity, but a paradigm shift that is rooted in a commitment to
growth in a pluralistic community as well as readiness for and
acceptance of cultural change within our congregations...”
Sermon: Who Am I?
Religions are about questions. They offer responses to basic
dilemmas of the human condition. The answers given to these
questions vary from one faith to the next, but the questions don’t
change. Questions like:
• What do I trust to guide me through the uncertainties of life?
What can I rely upon to help point me in a direction that’s right
and true?
• Where can I find meaning? There has to be more to life than just
making it through, more than mere survival. How do I bring together
the scattered elements of my life into patterns that make sense?
• Why is there evil? In this world of sometimes breathtaking beauty,
how is it that we also find so much that is wrong?
• What brings me hope? How do I find the strength and courage to
face the new day?
• And why are there congregations? For what purposes do we gather,
and how do we express our ideals in the world?
As Unitarian Universalists, we inherit and participate in a long
tradition of religious liberalism. We are not the only congregations
in which you might encounter the values that we espouse. They can
also be found among liberal Quakers, the Ethical Culture movement,
the Bahá'í, Reform Judaism, liberal wings of most Protestant
denominations, and even in the Roman Catholic Church, to name just a
few. But Unitarians and Universalists—and now Unitarian
Universalists—have been the primary American religions drawing
exclusively on religious liberalism for its guiding principles.
In this service this morning, I’d like to begin a series of
sermons—one a month which will take us through the year. In these
I’ll consider these religious questions, and try to articulate
responses found in the liberal religious tradition. My hope is to
identify the foundations upon which our faith is built.
This is not a new project for me. About 20 years ago, I wrote a book
called, A Holy Curiosity, which is an introduction to religious
liberalism based on how we respond to these religious questions. The
title comes from a quotation by Albert Einstein who advised, “Never
lose a holy curiosity.” That seems to me also a precept of religious
liberalism: “Never lose a holy curiosity.” The book is out of
print—has been for years. But I thought that in this interim period,
it might be useful to revisit the topic and consider its
implications: both for us as individuals and for us as a
congregation.
● ● ●
The first question: “Who am I?”
This question has to do with my identity as an individual, but it
also addresses the human condition. At our essence, who are we? What
is the nature of human being?
American Unitarianism—that is, the Unitarian side of our Unitarian
Universalist tradition—developed gradually in the years before,
during and after the American Revolution. The driving issue had to
do with the nature of humanity. American Unitarianism began with a
re-evaluation of this question, “Who am I?”
Let’s set the stage: the American colonies of New England in the
1600s and then the 1700s. At the time, religious freedom was not an
idea that had developed much traction. Every community had a church
established to serve its people, and it was supported by tax
dollars. Most of these churches were descended from tradition of
Puritanism, which could be a harsh faith. Go to church in that era,
and the message you heard was going to have something to do with
sin. It was just about guaranteed; that’s what they were into. Their
understanding of the human condition was that we come into the world
with the sin of Adam and Eve ingrained in our nature. So the
essential task of living is to be saved from that sin.
This approach to life produced a lot of guilt-ridden New Englanders,
with stern expressions and a propensity for making life miserable
for other people too—all in the name of salvation. Among those
guilt-ridden New Englanders was a young man named William Ellery
Channing.
As a boy, Channing was shy and sickly. He had been born into a
prominent New England family, but his father died while Channing was
a teenager, leaving the family in poverty. He was often lonely,
wrestled with self-doubt, sought to overcome his own sense of
unworthiness by repudiating pleasure. He fasted and punished
himself; he sought to drive out the demons that he had been taught
existed within.
When he was a student at Harvard, Channing had an experience that
changed him—and that served as a point of reference in later life
when he became the leading figure in American Unitarianism. His
nephew, William Henry Channing (who served as minister of
Washington’s First Unitarian Church) described this experience in
the biography he wrote of his uncle.
He was, at the time, walking as he read, beneath a clump of willow,
yet standing in the meadow….There burst upon his mind that view of
the dignity of human nature which was ever after to uphold and
cherish him….The place and hour were always sacred in his memory,
and he frequently referred to them with grateful awe. It seemed to
him that he then passed through a new spiritual birth, and entered
upon the day of eternal peace and joy.
The “dignity of human nature.” That was an important concept for the
time. It was expressed in the founding documents of this nation—such
as the Declaration of Independence and the Bill of Rights—and it was
basic to the Unitarianism that William Ellery Channing helped to
develop. The old Puritan orthodoxy focused on human sinfulness, but
maybe, the Unitarians said, if we expect the worst of people, that’s
exactly what we’ll get. What if we look to the capacity for good?
What if we affirm human worth and dignity? The history of
Unitarianism and then Unitarian Universalist has been of trying to
honor that affirmation. What does it mean for our lives, for that of
our congregations, for our world—if we affirm the value of people?
What does it mean if we focus on what we share in common rather than
emphasize what keeps us apart?
● ● ●
Let me tell a story to move us from the realm of abstraction into
what that principle of honoring human worth and dignity might mean
when expressed in real life. This story is drawn from our Unitarian
Universalist history in Washington, so some of you might already
know it, particularly those who have a connection with All Souls
Church.
This takes us back over 60 years ago, the end of World War II. It
involves the minister of All Souls at the time, A. Powell Davies,
for whom this church is named. When atomic bombs were dropped on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki, A. Powell Davies was deeply troubled. Yes,
the use of these weapons ended a horrible war, but they also
unleashed untold suffering as well as the prospect of future
annihilation—the genie was out of the bottle.
And so he was outraged at reports of a party in which American
military officers celebrated with a three-foot angel food cake
shaped like the atomic cloud that appeared over Hiroshima. He
presented a sermon entitled Lest the Living Forget in which he
expressed his anger at the insensitivity to human suffering he felt
that party represented.
The sermon was widely distributed, and a copy made its way into the
hands of an aide to General Douglas MacArthur, who supervised the
post-war occupation of Japan. The aide, Dr. Howard Bell, wrote to A.
Powell Davies and presented a challenge. Isn’t it time, he said, to
begin building bridges between the Japanese and American
peoples—perhaps through the children, whose futures are at stake.
Specifically, Dr. Bell described the circumstances of 400 Japanese
children from Hiroshima, orphaned or displaced by the war, who
lacked the most basic supplies for their studies.
In response, A. Powell Davies preached another sermon. This time he
asked the children of the congregation to help. They came through by
gathering some 1.5 tons of schools supplies—crayons, pencils, pens,
paints and paint brushes—which the Unitarian Service Committee
distributed to children in Japan.
Later, expressions of thanks arrived from the Japanese children.
They came in the form of art projects, including 48 watercolor
paintings and crayon drawings: gifts of life from these children.
The drawings and paintings have been shown throughout the United
States with their message that those who have been enemies can
become friends. And they are still displayed—the last time I looked
they were hanging in the social hall at All Souls Church in
Washington.
I’ve brought copies of some of those paintings and drawings drawn by
Japanese children in thanks for the gifts they received. I’ll have
them out: take a look at them. There is a fragile beauty here that
illustrates our shared humanity. They are an affirmation of worth
and dignity, extending even to those who have been enemies.
● ● ●
In 1961, the American Unitarian Association joined with the
Universalist Church of America to form the Unitarian Universalist
Association. There were differences between these two associations
of religious liberals, but they shared the affirmation of human
worth and dignity, which had been expressed in many ways throughout
their histories.
Unitarians and Universalists were prominent abolitionists before the
Civil War, demanding an end to slavery. During the Civil War, First
Unitarian Church of Washington offered use of its facilities as a
military hospital, the first church in the city to do so. (In
appreciation, the United States Senate let the church use the Senate
Office Chamber for its Sunday services.) The Universalist Sara
Barton founded the American Red Cross, after her experiences on
battlefields in the United States and Europe. Unitarians and
Universalists were among the first American denominations to ordain
women as ministers. The Unitarian, Susan B. Anthony, spearheaded the
drive for women’s suffrage in this country. Many of the social
services agencies in Washington were founded by or supported by
Unitarians and Universalists. More recently, UUs have been the first
association of congregations to affirm openly gay and lesbian
ministers—and to initiate a program welcoming gay, lesbian, bisexual
and transgender people into our congregations (a program in which
this church participates). The principle that unites these varied
initiatives? It’s very simple: affirming the inherent worth and
dignity of each person.
The period of the early 1960s, when the Unitarian Universalist
Association had just been formed, coincided with the blooming of the
Civil Rights Movement. It didn’t suddenly start then, of course.
Over time, the ground had been prepared, and often Unitarians and
Universalists had taken a role.
In the 1930s and 1940s, Washington DC was a segregated city. The
dining hall of All Souls Church in Washington was one of the few
places that served all, no matter what their race or national
origin. As a result, Eleanor Roosevelt visited several times, to
thank them for the stand they were making. In the late 1940s, A.
Powell Davies—there’s that name again—came out strongly against the
city’s segregationist practices. Among his initiatives was
publishing a list of restaurants and public facilities in which all
were welcome. Tens of thousands of copies of that list were
distributed throughout the city to encourage people to frequent only
those that were integrated. In 1954 was the landmark Brown vs. Board
of Education school desegregation case. The Supreme Court ruled
unanimously in that decision to outlaw segregation in the schools,
and one associate justice was given particular credit for getting
all the justices on board. His name was Harold Burton. He was a
Republican—and a Unitarian. In 1965, when Martin Luther King called
on clergy to join him in the March on Selma, Unitarian Universalists
responded in force. One of the UU ministers was murdered in Selma:
James Reeb, who had been associate minister at All Souls. Martin
Luther King, Jr. gave the eulogy at his memorial service. President
Lyndon Johnson, then preparing Voting Right Acts, credited the
national outrage at this murder and others for getting Congress to
pass the legislation.
Human worth. Human dignity.
Last week, I sat in on one of the sessions for the visioning process
here at Davies. That is, the process of thinking about who we are
and who we want to be as a congregation. We were talking about the
success here at Davies in creating a more diverse congregation. One
person made the comment, “This country is changing.”
Yes, that’s right. Despite the many discouraging things that occur,
this country is changing. And I can tell you the moment I realized
it. My moment was not the election of Barrack Obama, although of
course that was a huge step. My realization occurred before that,
during the summer, a little over two years ago.
Amy and I were still living in Shaker Heights, Ohio, but were in the
process of moving to the Washington area. We had made an offer on a
house here which had been accepted. So things were in process, and
we were paying final visits to places we had enjoyed in the
Cleveland area.
One of these was a place called Cedar Point. Cedar Point is located
on the Lake Erie shore, about halfway between Cleveland and Toledo.
It opened in 1870 as a beer garden and public beach and then evolved
into an amusement park. Lots of amusement parks have come and gone
from then until now but somehow Cedar Point survived and prospered.
Today, it boasts more roller coasters than any amusement park in the
world—at least, that’s what they claim.
Amy and I and two of our kids and one of their friends headed off
for a final visit to Cedar Point. It was a beautiful day, the place
was packed, and I think I was the oldest person at the park. But I
rode the roller coasters, and I ate the horrible food that tastes so
good like elephant ears and chili dogs with sour kraut and big
doughy salty pretzels and multi-colored ice cream dots, though I did
pass on the red white and blue cotton candy and the sno cones.
So here I am, doing Cedar Point, and I begin to notice something.
I’m looking at the families and I’m seeing such a mix of children,
children of different races in many of these families. And I’m
hearing a variety of language spoken. And I’m seeing groups of
friends, and they are not segregated by color lines. And I’m seeing
young couples snuggling up to each other, again, white and black and
Asian and hispanic.
I’m seeing this, and I realize: “Something has changed. Something in
this country has changed.” I don’t know when this happened. Maybe
while I was napping. Remember, I was the oldest person at Cedar
Point that day. And it was all so matter-of-fact. People used to get
killed for this—people of different races just walking down the
street together. But here we were, being with each other, enjoying
each other’s company. Simple—yet radical at the same time.
I assure you that Cedar Point, Ohio, is not an isolated bastion of
liberalism. It’s about as middle America as you can get. But here it
was: something in this country has changed. Maybe, just maybe, we
are beginning to regard each other as having worth and dignity.
Maybe we are bridging differences that have kept us apart for just
about all of human history. Maybe we are actually building what Dr.
King called the “Beloved Community.”
● ● ●
Today on this Association Sunday, we recognize the efforts of the
Unitarian Universalist Association in promoting and expressing the
ideals under which we gather. This year’s theme is “Growing our
Diversity,” for among the as-yet unrealized ambitions of our
association is the dream that we be congregations that are truly
diverse: Racial diversity, cultural diversity, diversity of sexual
orientation, of age, of economic circumstances.
I was reading through the materials the UUA sent in anticipation of
Association Sunday, and I came across a rather startling figure. If
we define a diverse congregation as one in which less than 80% is of
the majority race, then of the over 1,000 congregations of the UUA,
only 5 qualify as diverse congregations. That is, in only 5 of over
1,000 congregations is there a minority representation of 20% or
more. I thought, “That can’t be right.” So I contacted the UUA. I
asked, “Can you verify this? Can you name names? Which exactly are
those five congregations?”
The response I got was, “Well, we can only think of four that meet
the criteria for diversity.” One is All Souls in Washington, which
makes sense: it was the first UUA congregation to be significantly
multi-racial and the first to call an African American as senior
minister. Another is First Unitarian Church of Chicago, in Hyde
Park, home of the Obama family before they moved to our neck of the
woods. Another is All Souls Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma, which has
just merged with a black congregation—nice story about that in the
current UU World. And the other one listed is us: Davies Memorial
Unitarian Universalist Church. I’m not sure if the list I received
was rank-ordered by percentages, but I think it was. If so, Davies
is number one among the over 1,000 congregations of the Unitarian
Universalist Association in terms of diversity.
That’s quite an accomplishment. And something to build on. Because
the country is changing. And that, in turn, issues a challenge to us
as Unitarian Universalists. Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley put it this way
in the opening reading. “What we are dealing with is not simply
racial and ethnic diversity, but a paradigm shift that is rooted in
a commitment to growth in a pluralistic community as well as
readiness for and acceptance of cultural change within our
congregations...”
● ● ●
Who am I? That’s the question of the day.
Our liberal religious tradition affirms: I am a person of dignity
and worth. I share this world with other human beings of dignity and
worth. Therefore, I try to live with respect for my neighbor and
myself.
I am a flawed person. I am not perfect, and never will be. I have my
prejudices, my blind spots, the things I don’t do well. I sometimes
have bad days. But I can change. I can learn to take responsibility
for my life. I can become better able to witness to the worth of
human beings, I can become more compassionate, more involved in
life. I can learn to recognize when people are demeaned, and I can
gain courage to speak out in protest. Through my decisions and my
actions, I can make a difference in this world.
The affirmation of inherent worth and dignity: it is not a
complicated message. But it can be transforming. It can change
lives.
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