"Water Communion: Gift of Community"
Spirit of the water, calm me; Spirit of the water, refresh me ... " - Joyce A. Markle
What stirred within you with such force,
that it compelled you
to enter into a Unitarian Universalist congregation
for the first time?
Can you remember what was strong enough
to prod you out of your
usual Sunday morning brunch with friends,
canyon hikes with your dog,
sleeping in?
For some of you, it was a long time ago;
others of you only need remember back a few months,
or even to this morning.
Who knows how you found us.
You may have read about us,
or been invited by a friend,
or walked by the building and felt intrigued.
What did you hope you would find when
you walked through the doors?
A place to sing?
A place to heal?
A place to put your hands in the dirt?
A place for your children?
A place to think?
We all come,
wanderers and worshipers,
looking for different things,
most of us hoping against hope
to find a group of people who will
accept us for who we are,
allow us to be of use,
love us,
let us love them back
in return.
When I worked as Denominational Staff,
I led workshops across the country.
In any group of Unitarian Universalists,
no matter their age or background,
when asked about the most important aspect
of congregational life,
the number one answer given:
The Community.
In some ways,
this longing for community is at odds with another
of our closely held values.
Our understanding that each of us in charge of
our personal spiritual development.
Each of us unique in how we
connect with the universal energy
moving in, around, and
among us,
called by so many names.
.
We do not have a collective creed.
You won’t hear us recite a shared dogma.
No common prayer practice.
And a theological diversity
as wide and as long as the Mississippi River.
And yet, here we are.
Holding on to each other
as we move through the complex waters
of the river of life.
I’ve heard it said,
over and over,
that you cannot be a Unitarian Universalist alone.
When I first heard this,
twenty years ago,
I wasn’t 100% sure I agreed with it.
Surely, I could live by our 7 principles;
I could read theology and study books on UU history and governance;
I could experience the mystery of the unfolding universe
in the only way that has ever made sense to me -
through nature.
I didn’t need anyone else in order
to do those things
regularly and well.
In many ways ... it was those types of solitary activities
that made me feel so comfortable
with Unitarian Universalism when I found it.
I loved the questions,
the inquiry.
I loved the identity we claimed:
“free thinking mystics with hands,”
as named by
a colleague of mine.
I didn’t feel I needed a whole lot of answers.
I’d been involved with a faith community
that taught answers galore -
answers that feel easily off the lips,
answers that proved to be empty
when I needed to lean on them most.
So ... why did I need others to be a Unitarian Universalist?
I mean - I enjoyed the other people at my church.
But did I NEED them in order to be
a Unitarian Universalist?
Turns out, I do. And we do.
And the hint to why we do lies in that fourth principle.
The very one that encouraged
my solitary walks by the creek,
my forays into feminist theology,
my private prodding of universal mysteries.
This fourth principle says that we affirm and promote
a free and responsible search for truth and meaning.
This is also known as our “keystone principle.”
Imagine our 7 principles as an arch over our river of theologies-
One and seven (hands at bottom)
Two and six (move hands up)
Three and five (move hands up).
Four in the middle,
holding everything together.
If we take it out,
the arch crumbles.
And all the other principles support this particular one -
it is held up by our trust in humanity,
our understanding of the universe as
all intricately connected.
Alone, walking in the woods,
contemplating my life,
I can be as free as I want to be
in my quest for spiritual fulfillment
and religious truths.
But our keystone principle calls not only for a free search.
But for a responsible search.
Alone, there’s nothing or no one for me to bump up against.
No one challenges my ideas.
No one asks for my truths to be in relationship
with anyone else’s truths.
Alone, I am not confronted by possible
harms and hurts done to others
by the limitations of my ideas.
A responsible search for truth and meaning
is one held in loving embrace of community.
A community in which my understandings
are shaped and formed
by the realities of your lived experience.
By your perceptions.
By your ideas and beliefs.
By your heart.
We hold each other accountable.
One Unitarian Universalist recounted how
this fourth principle works in her own life:
Whereas I recognize myself
to be the primary authority of my life,
I need my faith community to
chasten, challenge, and comfort me -
in short,
to chalice me! (1)
May that be a gift you carry with you today.
The gift of a community
that “chalices” you
into more wholeness.
1. Owen-Towle, Tom. Growing A Beloved Community, Twelve Hallmarks of A Healthy Congregation, p. 18.
that it compelled you
to enter into a Unitarian Universalist congregation
for the first time?
Can you remember what was strong enough
to prod you out of your
usual Sunday morning brunch with friends,
canyon hikes with your dog,
sleeping in?
For some of you, it was a long time ago;
others of you only need remember back a few months,
or even to this morning.
Who knows how you found us.
You may have read about us,
or been invited by a friend,
or walked by the building and felt intrigued.
What did you hope you would find when
you walked through the doors?
A place to sing?
A place to heal?
A place to put your hands in the dirt?
A place for your children?
A place to think?
We all come,
wanderers and worshipers,
looking for different things,
most of us hoping against hope
to find a group of people who will
accept us for who we are,
allow us to be of use,
love us,
let us love them back
in return.
When I worked as Denominational Staff,
I led workshops across the country.
In any group of Unitarian Universalists,
no matter their age or background,
when asked about the most important aspect
of congregational life,
the number one answer given:
The Community.
In some ways,
this longing for community is at odds with another
of our closely held values.
Our understanding that each of us in charge of
our personal spiritual development.
Each of us unique in how we
connect with the universal energy
moving in, around, and
among us,
called by so many names.
.
We do not have a collective creed.
You won’t hear us recite a shared dogma.
No common prayer practice.
And a theological diversity
as wide and as long as the Mississippi River.
And yet, here we are.
Holding on to each other
as we move through the complex waters
of the river of life.
I’ve heard it said,
over and over,
that you cannot be a Unitarian Universalist alone.
When I first heard this,
twenty years ago,
I wasn’t 100% sure I agreed with it.
Surely, I could live by our 7 principles;
I could read theology and study books on UU history and governance;
I could experience the mystery of the unfolding universe
in the only way that has ever made sense to me -
through nature.
I didn’t need anyone else in order
to do those things
regularly and well.
In many ways ... it was those types of solitary activities
that made me feel so comfortable
with Unitarian Universalism when I found it.
I loved the questions,
the inquiry.
I loved the identity we claimed:
“free thinking mystics with hands,”
as named by
a colleague of mine.
I didn’t feel I needed a whole lot of answers.
I’d been involved with a faith community
that taught answers galore -
answers that feel easily off the lips,
answers that proved to be empty
when I needed to lean on them most.
So ... why did I need others to be a Unitarian Universalist?
I mean - I enjoyed the other people at my church.
But did I NEED them in order to be
a Unitarian Universalist?
Turns out, I do. And we do.
And the hint to why we do lies in that fourth principle.
The very one that encouraged
my solitary walks by the creek,
my forays into feminist theology,
my private prodding of universal mysteries.
This fourth principle says that we affirm and promote
a free and responsible search for truth and meaning.
This is also known as our “keystone principle.”
Imagine our 7 principles as an arch over our river of theologies-
One and seven (hands at bottom)
Two and six (move hands up)
Three and five (move hands up).
Four in the middle,
holding everything together.
If we take it out,
the arch crumbles.
And all the other principles support this particular one -
it is held up by our trust in humanity,
our understanding of the universe as
all intricately connected.
Alone, walking in the woods,
contemplating my life,
I can be as free as I want to be
in my quest for spiritual fulfillment
and religious truths.
But our keystone principle calls not only for a free search.
But for a responsible search.
Alone, there’s nothing or no one for me to bump up against.
No one challenges my ideas.
No one asks for my truths to be in relationship
with anyone else’s truths.
Alone, I am not confronted by possible
harms and hurts done to others
by the limitations of my ideas.
A responsible search for truth and meaning
is one held in loving embrace of community.
A community in which my understandings
are shaped and formed
by the realities of your lived experience.
By your perceptions.
By your ideas and beliefs.
By your heart.
We hold each other accountable.
One Unitarian Universalist recounted how
this fourth principle works in her own life:
Whereas I recognize myself
to be the primary authority of my life,
I need my faith community to
chasten, challenge, and comfort me -
in short,
to chalice me! (1)
May that be a gift you carry with you today.
The gift of a community
that “chalices” you
into more wholeness.
1. Owen-Towle, Tom. Growing A Beloved Community, Twelve Hallmarks of A Healthy Congregation, p. 18.
