TOWARD A LANGUAGE OF REVERENCE: SPIRITUALITY
January 14, 2007 The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
Many of you no doubt remember with fondness the routine on the early Saturday Night Live shows, where Gilda Radner would portray a sweet but somewhat ditsy lady named Emily Latella. Emily was forever misunderstanding words, and delivering passionate news commentaries on subjects that completely missed the point.
“What’s all this fuss about Russian Jewelry?” she once demanded. “Let them keep their jewelry, I say! Why would we want it, anyway?! We don’t care about their jewelry!” After going on and on about this, the news anchor would finally stop her and say, “Emily, that’s Jewry; Russian Jewry.”
“Oh,” Emily would reply after a moment. “Well then, never mind.”
Sometimes I think we Unitarian Universalists are like Emily when it comes to traditional religious language. We don’t misunderstand the pronunciation of certain religious words, but I think we often misunderstand the meaning of them.
Many UUs would be happy if we simply stopped using religious language altogether. Indeed, one member of Emerson recently declined an invitation to attend a meeting of Rabbi Michael Lerner’s Network of Spiritual Progressives, saying that while he (the Emerson member) is a “progressive,” he’s not “spiritual.”
And sadly, I know of a couple of well-loved members who apparently stopped attending Emerson because they were uncomfortable with the occasional use of “God-language” in our worship. (I should say that they never told me this directly, but let others know.)
Arguing over the meaning of language is not new to Unitarian Universalists. According to Professor Dean Grodzins of Meadville Lombard Theological School, we’ve been “grappling with the problem of language, in one form or another, for over 200 years!” At our 2005 UU General Assembly, he told the delegates that, “We have struggled with how a creedless faith, one that’s liberally welcoming, can also have a meaningful vocabulary that reinforces the bonds of fellowship and meets the spiritual needs of individuals and communities.” I suspect that this issue will be part of what’s addressed next Saturday morning in the workshop some of us are attending, called “Embracing our Theological Diversity.”
In the 20th century, the language we used in our UU congregations – especially before the merger of Unitarianism and Universalism in the early 1960s – seemed to lean decidedly towards the secular. Indeed, when you read our seven Principles, language that one might call traditionally religious is used only once – and that’s the word, “spiritual.” The Rev. Walter Royal Jones once posed the challenging question, “How many of us, on our death bed, would ask to have our Principles and Purposes read to us for solace and support?” I’d venture to say, none of us. Interestingly, it’s not unusual for a UU to ask to have the 23rd Psalm read at their memorial service!
For several years now, the president of our denomination, William Sinkford, has been encouraging us to embrace what he calls a “language of reverence;” he even spoke movingly about it at my Installation as minister of this church. (I’ve since learned that he’s delivered the same sermon at many other Installations – probably before and since!)
It has been a controversial topic – even resulting in a rumor that Rev. Sinkford was suggesting we re-write our Principles and Purposes to include “God-language” – which he was not advocating. But what he was hoping for was the beginning of a serious dialogue throughout our denomination about the meaning of religious language, and how it affects our relationship to one another and to the wider world; and that has begun.
During a panel presentation on the subject at one of our G.A.s, the Rev. David Bumbaugh – himself a Humanist – argued that, “In the process of defending (the citadel of the mind), we’ve lost…the ability to speak of that which is sacred, holy, of ultimate importance to us, with the language which would allow us to enter into critical dialogue with the religious community.”
I, too, have been aware over the years of the barrier we UUs have erected between us and the wider faith community – many of whom share our Principles, and are good partners in the struggles for peace and justice. Yet so many of us recoil at any use of religious language, without paying attention to the context in which it’s used, and the theology of the person speaking – which is often almost as radical as our own. When we react this way, we cut ourselves off from important interfaith work.
I have said before that language holds power – especially the language of faith. When we refuse to look at the broader meaning of a word – which is often its original meaning, before it got twisted by specific doctrines – we give it away to those who have misused it, and we do ourselves a disservice in the process. It’s like choosing to stop using the word “love” because it can mean so many different things to different people, and has been so misused and twisted. How many of us would be willing to let go of that word?
This issue has become an important one in our denomination, thanks to Rev. Sinkford, and so it behooves us here at Emerson to continue to wrestle with it. But more importantly, it pains me to know that any member of this church would choose to stop attending because of occasional references to God, or that an activist would refrain from certain events because he feels excluded by the language. So I have decided to embark on a series of occasional sermons addressing some of the language that is called into question from time to time; today is the first in that series.
It seemed timely to begin with the word, “Spirituality.” I think every time I do one of my “question & answer” services, someone asks me what the heck I mean by that word!
We seem to get stuck in a perception that Spirituality is akin to irrationality; that it assumes a belief in all kinds of supernatural notions that we may have grown up with, but which we left behind long ago.
Or we may be skeptical of the word because of its misuse by some newer religious movements – often referred to as “New Age” or “New Thought” movements. In these contexts, spirituality has tended to imply a focus on oneself, without ever taking the next step toward caring for the world. During the 1980s, people that called themselves “spiritual” often tied it to material abundance – not for the poor, but for themselves and others who were already living a pretty comfortable life.
But these interpretations of Spirituality are incomplete. For while Spirituality can incorporate a belief in the supernatural, it doesn’t depend on that. And it has little to do with one’s own material abundance, and everything to do with our concern for the abundance and well-being of those beyond ourselves – particularly the most vulnerable.
The word “spirit” comes from the Latin “spiritus,” which simply means “breath.” Webster’s dictionary defines it as the “breath of life; hence, life itself.” And the Oxford American Dictionary defines it as a “person’s animating principle; what gives life to a person – a person’s nature.”
So when I speak of “spiritual deepening,” I’m referring to that which helps us get more in touch with what it is that enlivens us. Think of the word “inspire;” it means that which fills us with the spirit of aliveness – that makes us feel most in touch with ourselves, and with life. Our “spiritual journeys” then, are hopefully life-long quests for that which opens us and engages us most profoundly with life.
In the Christian tradition, Jesus is considered the “word” of God; but the third part of the Trinity – the Holy Spirit – is the “breath” of God that brings life to everything. It “breathes” through us like the wind, connecting us to everything living. Our 7th UU Principle uses the imagery of a great “web” of life that connects all creation; but we could just as easily have spoken of the “spirit” or “breath of life” connecting us to each other, and to all that is.
Rev. Bumbaugh reminds us that, “Humanism gave us a doctrine of incarnation which suggests…that the universe itself is continually incarnating itself in microbes and maples, in hummingbirds and human beings, constantly inviting us to tease out revelations contained in the stars and atoms and every living thing.” He is speaking of the “spirit” or “breath” of life that is ongoing; it’s what the story I read to the children this morning was speaking of as well – that “Everything Seed” that was at the beginning of the Universe, and continues to give birth to new life.
When we understand that we are a part of that ongoing “incarnation” of the universe, and that we are connected to every other incarnation, we are on the spiritual path. The Transcendentalist Bronson Alcott – Louisa May’s father – wrote that, “Nature isn’t separable from me; I breathe, pulsate, feel, think through her and know no duality of being.” That understanding is what is meant by Spirituality.
The Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, goes even further, in his poem, “Please Call Me by My True Names.” He begins by suggesting, “I arrive in every second to be a bud on a spring branch, to be a tiny bird with wings still fragile, learning to sing in my new nest….” He speaks of being a caterpillar, a mayfly, a frog and a grass-snake.
But then he goes down a more challenging path: “I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks; and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate; and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.”
He ends this powerful poem by imploring: “Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up and so the door of my heart can be left open, the door of compassion.”
When we understand that all life is one, connected by the “spirit” or “breath” of life, then the door of our hearts swing open, and we are compelled to reach out beyond our own comfort, to bring comfort and healing to others and to our world.
And most of us know about this. I think it’s no small matter that one of our most popular hymns is #123, “Spirit of Life,” which we sang earlier in our service. That hymn cries out for the “Spirit” or “breath” of Life to “sing” in our hearts the “stirrings of compassion.” And it asks that Spirit to give “life the shape of justice.”
Spirituality, then, is about seeing all life relationally. What I do in my life has an effect beyond myself. It is not “all about me;” it is about my relationship to everyone and everything, both near and far. And it’s about my relationship to myself – to my deepest longings, and to what I cherish, to what some might call God.
When one is living a spiritually healthy life, one feels aligned with one’s authenticity. It brings peace of mind, as if one is breathing in rhythm with life. Rev. William Schulz wrote once that, “Spirituality is not unlike catching one’s breath and being immensely grateful for it….The Spirit,” he said, “yearns to be felt and begs to be lived.”
What is it that helps you feel at one with your deepest self? When is it that you feel most connected to the earth and the stars and to the “breath” of life? What breaks open the door of your heart and lets compassion for others enter and stay?
All of us need a spiritual practice of some kind – be it structured meditation each day, or engaging in some art form, or writing in a journal, or simply walking in the woods, or simply sitting quietly and listening to the sounds of life. The practices we choose can keep us in relation to our deeper selves, and bring us peace of mind and a sense of gratitude in a chaotic and demanding world.
But if our spiritual practice ends there – if it does nothing to push us beyond ourselves, and out into a broken world needing our presence, then it has fallen short of its purpose. For a journey of the Spirit must be, ultimately, a journey of connection – of relationship – to all that shares this wondrous world with us.
That’s why I don’t want to abandon the concept of Spirituality and Spirit; it would be like abandoning the “breath of life” that binds us to one another and to the world beyond these walls. And then I don’t know why we’d even bother coming together as a religious community.
For ultimately, our purpose as a religious community is to provide a place where we can explore and engage our spiritual journeys – where we can be reminded of the wondrous life force that breathes through us; and celebrate with gratitude; where we can deepen our awareness of the unity of all Creation, and our part in it.
Ultimately our spiritual journey transforms us, and thereby compels us to transform our world from brokenness to wholeness.
So if you’re someone who thinks you’re not “spiritual,” think again. Because if you are filled with awe at the beauty of a starry night or the complexity of our universe, you are on a spiritual path.
If your heart can break at the sorrow of another, you are on a spiritual path.
If memories of long ago can bring tears to your eyes, you are on a spiritual path.
And if the violence and injustices of our world compel you to action, you are on a spiritual path.
But if you don’t want to apply that language to yourself, that’s fine. Because ultimately, language isn’t what makes us a religious community. The point isn’t the words we use, but the meaning behind our words – the compassion and authenticity with which we speak to one another.
May this church be a place where the language we use is always a language of hope and love and peace. Amen.
© 2007 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
