Love and Justice: the Core of Our Faith

a sermon by Reverend Lynn Thomas Strauss

Unitarian Universalist Church of Rockville, May 6, 2007

On good days, I take an early morning prayer walk. Sometimes this walk makes me feel productive–I efficiently combine my physical exercise and my spiritual responsibilities, sometimes this walk makes me feel like a good minister, sometimes this prayerful walk feels sufficient.

But something different happened this week. On one day, when I stopped in my usual favorite spot to speak the names of all those who needed prayers this week, this time...I was overcome with tears. The list, the list of names, was too long...so long that I couldn’t stop—naming all the people who were ill, all who were living with pain, naming all those who were struggling with difficult life changes, the list went on and on—naming all those who were traveling, all who were alone, all who needed loving care...the names just kept welling up, the names of all those in this congregation, all those among my friends and family, all those suffering people around the world...the names just kept coming and coming...I was overwhelmed.

When I offer these prayers...these prayers for the people...I find myself speaking the language of lamentation...the language of the psalms...I looked up the word overwhelmed, it led me straight to Psalm 88, the subtitle of which is–in my new revised standard study bible–“A complaint to God.” Wherein it is written:

O God, when at night, I cry out in your presence, let my prayer come before you; incline your ear to my cry. For my soul is full of troubles and my life draws near to Sheol.

I admit, as your minister, I offer prayers, I lament, on your behalf. I cry out for help, I complain about all the suffering that must be endured.

And this brings me to my second strange thing. Later in the week, another walk, another prayer on my lips–I was just about to speak when I felt constrained. As a religious humanist, as the minister of this theologically diverse congregation of many beliefs and also unbelief...I had conscientiously avoided using the word God in my prayers. And suddenly, out of the blue, on this particular day, I was dissatisfied, unsettled, about my choice of words.

My usual “Spirit of Life,” “Creative Source,” “Abundant Spirit of Love” felt inadequate to the task before me. The lament I was about to speak needed a hearer, an object, more concrete, more specific, more responsive. I needed to call upon, to be filled with something powerful and awesome, something that would truly lift me up...something that would hold me and fill me with compassionate strength and blessed assurance.

I imagine that this is what other pastors count on when they address their prayers to God. At times I envy them. Have I been doing without a God or Goddess, unnecessarily?

Proof that naming is of extreme importance came in the Washington Post this morning. That Section...Haiku...the wisdom of a child....

In searching for the right words for my prayer life...I wasn’t looking to rush into the everlasting arms of the traditional Father God of my Methodist upbringing...but I was certainly feeling the need for a stronger, clearer source of support for my ministry in that moment.

As I walked, I tried on different names for the strength I was seeking. I used the form of the Buddhist meditation that had worked for me so many times before. “Hold me in loving kindness. Fill me with loving kindness.” It felt too squishy, too softly flowing. “Hold me in the light. Fill me with light.” That felt too vague, too new agey. I stopped walking...I was feeling a little desperate...and stupid; why this sudden need for something more, why this sudden confusion?

I closed my eyes, as I stood there. “Fill me with the sun’s light.” “Fill me with holy light.” “Fill me with the love.” “Fill me with the love of God.” “Fill me with Universal Love.”

My desperation and confusion were getting the best of me. Who will hear my prayer? Who will lift me up? What will strengthen my spirit? How can I be a better minister? How can I be a better minister for you?

Forgive me, I had planned a nice clear sermon about love and justice. I did a lot of reading. I planned to acknowledge that the purpose of religion is to find meaning in our lives. I wanted to build a lovely edifying sermon around the question, “What makes our lives worth living?”

I had an answer all ready to go...love makes our lives worth living. I intended to give examples to show that it is not what we do for ourselves, but what we do for others, that makes life worth living.

I’ve thought often about Christopher Reeve’s wife in this regard. She was young and beautiful when she married Reeve, this was before the accident that paralyzed him. For most of the years of their marriage, she took amazing care of him, she was always by his side. It seemed by all accounts that their marriage was a happy one for both of them.

Then, not too long after his death, she was diagnosed with cancer...and then she herself died, relatively young, leaving a child behind. But in spite of these tragic circumstances, what a wonderful life of loving she led. What deep meaning her shortened life held. All because of what she did for someone else. It’s what we do for others that makes life worth living.

Anyone who works with children, teens or young adults knows how gratifying it is to guide children to acts of love and service for others. As they struggle to know and grow their gifts, we provide them with opportunities to help others...and thus they learn that their life matters. They learn that in giving to others, they become themselves.

That’s the kind of thing I’d planned to tell you about this morning. I wanted to explain, to show, that our faith is about love and justice. Along with Universal Love, Unitarian Universalism has a legacy of justice work.

UU theologian and professor at Meadville Lombard, Thandeka, says it this way. “We go to church to gain the courage and community we need in order to make the courageous leap of faith into the terrifying truths of our existence.” The terrifying truths we work on in religious community today are war, racism, poverty and homophobia. There are others, but these are the main ones. All stem from unequal distribution of power. All stem from greed and the unwillingness to share something of value. Whether it’s land, or freedom, or money, or marriage rights....

Bill Jones, one of the leaders of the anti-racism work within the UUA, has said, “We stand either with the oppressor or with the oppressed–there is no middle ground.”

Sometimes justice work requires public witness. It always requires standing on the side of love. Whether we’re addressing the truth of war, or racism, or poverty or homophobia, justice calls us to stand on the side of love–to speak out for our belief in the worth and dignity of all people, to be activists for equal rights and freedom for all. The core of our Unitarian Universalist faith is compassion...a call for love and justice. That’s what I planned to tell you today.

But I got side-tracked by my prayer walk, side-tracked by this little book “Living a Call: Ministers and Congregations Together,” edited by Michael Durall and published by the All Souls Unitarian Church of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

And also by this book: “The Charge of the Chalice,” by Rev. John Crestwell Jr., the minister at Davis Memorial UU Church in Camp Springs, MD. This book just came out this week.

Both these little books tell current stories of UU ministers and UU congregations. Both tell stories of living a called ministry in the 21st century. Both make the point that its not just ministers who are called to the ministry, but congregations are also called.

After reading these books this week, I knew that love and justice were too broad, too big, too distant to inform our ministry here at UUCR.

We need a meaning, a vision, a calling closer to the bone, particular to this moment in time, this piece sacred ground on Welsh Park Drive, this 2007–2008 configuration of the UU Congregation of Rockville. We need something that will grow the soul of this church...and all of us, too. We need a way of service that makes our life worth living. We need a task that will inspire us to take a leap of faith to face the terrifying truths of our existence...to define what that might mean for us as a liberal community of faith.

I confess, I’m not sure what that means. I’m not sure at all how to move beyond where we now are. Some days I’m not even sure anymore what to call the holy...how to pray.

In 2003, The Davies Memorial UU Congregation decided to become a multiracial congregation. They decided to change and grow and to reach out to the African American population in Prince Georges’ County where they are located. They heard a call and responded to it. The clergy, the staff, the congregation all responded to it. The UUA helped, the district helped...they grew in diversity and this year were named a break–through congregation. This book, “The Charge of The Chalice,” is their story.

After 16 years of ministry, I understand my call is to love and justice. My call is to serve our liberal ministry...to grow Unitarian Universalism, to strengthen our churches, to lead in congregations, to speak the truth in love, to be a spiritual presence...and now I am called to serve here among you.

And so I have to figure out what that means...specifically what does it mean to serve the UU church of Rockville at this moment in your history. I have to figure out how to pray for you. What words and symbols and images to use. What ways to guide worship. What ways to call for social action. What lessons to teach. What vision, what amazing grace to follow.

Another book I read this week was “Faith Without Certainty: Liberal Religion for the 21st Century,” by UU minister Paul Rasor, a professor at Virginia Wesleyan in Norfolk. Paul reminds us that the unique beauty and depth of Unitarian Universalism emerges in part because ours is a faith without certainty...who among us would want it any other way?

Our doubt is our strength.
Our questions are a curriculum.
Our love guides us though we don’t know our destination.
Our work for justice sustains us though we know it will never be complete.
Our desire for religious community inspires us though we know it will never be perfect.

So we liberal religious people, called to a faith without certainty, live and serve always in the tension of ambiguity. It could be this and it could be that. It could be all of this and all of that. Ambiguity, not being certain demands of us a unique kind of faithfulness...we continue in our religious journey, with mostly our questions to guide us. We continue to put our faith in openness, open mindedness, open expectations, open acceptance to different ideas and people and pathways–we put our faith in open hearts and minds.

And there is much that sustains this faith in openness. It is sometimes said that our openness of mind comes from the Unitarian branch of our heritage...our linear, academic, rational side. And it is said that our openness of heart comes from the Universalist branch of our heritage...our long experience of Universal Love.

Let me reassure you, that even as we live within the tensions of uncertainty as a faith community, we are grounded in the transforming power of love. There is something in the universe that loves each one of us. No matter what we do, how we feel, what we believe, no matter if we fail, if we are uncertain, or don’t know what to call it...there is something in the universe that loves you.

There is, at the core of our faith, a universal love. Some call it the love of God, some call it Love of the Human Spirit. We UUs believe that at the center of life is a goodness, a kindness, an affirming spirit that can be counted on. We are all held and nurtured by the transforming power of universal love. When we do unto others, when we practice acts of kindness and mercy, we are living out of that goodness that love that is at the heart of life. And when we take that love out into the world, it becomes justice. The transforming power of love creates justice. Love and Justice: the core of our faith.

Thank you for your faithful presence. For your sincere listening. Thank you for all you do to strengthen this congregation. Thank you for your love for our faith and for this church.

I close with these words of Elizabeth Strong.

Where the heart stirs, there moves Universalism.
The center holds within its transformative power of love.
We know with a wholeness of spirit that God is love, that life is good, that people are created for goodness out of love,
That in the final reckoning all shall be one.
When we hurt, when we are broken, when we become separated: let us seek the center which holds.
Let us remember the goodness for which we were created.
Let us be open to the transformative power of love that moves within the heart of life...and be whole once again.

Amen