e last day of March, I share a couple of pictures proving the time of year from our east Texas backyard: the azaleas (on the left) have been in full bloom for several days; the mock orange (to the right) are just starting and will be around longer.
mustard plant going to seed but cannot find confirmation on the Internet and I would welcome (and appreciate) any ideas . . .
The Church of the Larger Fellowship began during World War II, as a way for Unitarian Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines to stay connected to their faith while they were serving overseas. Though Unitarian Universalists may disagree on issues of war and peace, our faith does not disagree on our support of those who serve, those who have served, and their families.
If you read my post from this morning, please follow up with a read of Rev. Ford's sermon. You will be glad you did.
Then, in a moment of clarity I noticed how the content of religion is so much less than the action, the movement of the heart. So, they call upon Jesus, someone else calls on Amida, another surrenders to Allah, and another just notices; whichever, the action is one of surrender. Letting go of our certainties. Just putting it all down.I hope I don't take this too far out of the context intended, but this "liberation" following "surrender" . . . this choice of emotional response over intellectual response is probably central to the Christian notion of fully allowing God (or Jesus) into your life. In visiting Wikipedia, it appears, unsurprisingly, that the notion is indeed a center point among other faiths. I deem myself a spiritual person capable of surrendering myself to a moment. But this surrendering of self to a moment is a decision that I make from time to time, as at a wake or a celebratory communion, with full awareness that it is a temporary choice. It is a part, but only a part, of the complexities of self, of being the "i am" . . . a choice (even a path) that allows us to connect with one another in grief or joy, but as in a hug, there is no melding, only a temporary touching. No matter how profound and filled with emotion (or spirit) a moment may be, and no matter how total the letting go may be, it is more a hug than a melding. I consider myself a part of the larger UU body, that is the larger fellowship of living things (and on occasion the inanimate), but I also know that my integrity continues as a distinct being from, or within, that fellowship.
And what follows is liberation.
Metaphysics, or the attempt to conceive the world as a whole by means of thought, has been developed, from the first, by the union and conflict of two very different human impulses, the one urging men towards mysticism, the other urging them towards science. Some men have achieved greatness through one of these impulses alone, others through the other alone: in Hume, for example, the scientific impulse reigns quite unchecked, while in Blake a strong hostility to science co-exists with profound mystic insight. But the greatest men who have been philosophers have felt the need both of science and of mysticism: the attempt to harmonise the two was what made their life, and what always must, for all its arduous uncertainty, make philosophy, to some minds, a greater thing than either science or religion.
Yes, there are Zoroastrians, Wiccans and Jains in Houston. And people of lots of other faiths too. Here's a photographic crash course in religion.
There Is No Hell (by Rev. Forrest Church)
The difference between Universalists and Unitarians (the old joke has it) is that Universalists believe that God is too good to damn them, whereas Unitarians believe that they’re too good to be damned. I am a Universalist.
For all my many failings, the day I wake up dead I won’t be in a cattle car on the fast train to Satan’s fiery pit. Nor will you. And neither will Old Scratch himself. If he actually exists, the devil too will be saved. In the good news of universalism, God is a loving God who will not rest until the entire creation is redeemed. All creatures will be saved. There is no hell.
It’s easy to understand why hell was invented (if quite late in the biblical record). Eternal damnation solves the sticky part of the problem of evil: Why do good things happen to bad people? Reserving a corner of hell for all who escape well-deserved punishment here on earth balances the moral ledger sheet. Justice is done. Otherwise, not only is life unfair; the afterlife becomes unfair as well.
The problem is, when we project our retributive logic onto a cosmic screen, we pervert the divine image. We predicate hell on the irreverent presumption that God’s appetite for vengeance—an all-voracious version of our own nagging hunger—must be satisfied. "She’ll get hers in hell," we say. That balances our ledger, but it turns God into a jailer. The idea of purgatory makes perfectly good sense. I can imagine the utility of corrective punishment. But eternal hellfire demeans everything I believe about God. More important, it eviscerates the heart of Jesus’ gospel..
Jesus was anything but a biblical literalist. He teaches by parable, not by citing chapter and verse, and gets into holy mischief by repeatedly breaking the letter of scripture. Love is the sum and substance of all the law and the prophets, he teaches. He enjoins us to forgive and love our enemies. "Your enemy be damned," is no part of his gospel.
"Be perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect," Jesus instructs his disciples. That perfection can be summed up in three words, each an expression of divine love: justice, mercy and forgiveness. Standing alone, justice might allow for the creation of hell, but mercy and forgiveness render it morally impossible. We can sift a spoonful of evidence for hell from the scriptures, even as we can ladle out dozens of arguments for slavery. Neither, however, meets the requirements of the biblical Spirit, whose imperative is love.
I almost feel sorry for people trying to keep up with politics in the rest of the country these days. They must be overwhelmed - having to analyze the complex maneuverings of the stock market, forced to pore over the arcane elements of Wall Street bonuses and buyouts, mesmerized into memorizing the details of derivatives.
Life in Texas is so much easier.
Down here, we're still fightin' over the stupid stuff.
Like evolution.
Now, I must confess that living in Texas for the past 20 years has led me, on occasion, to doubt Darwin. To wonder if I had moved to some sort of land-locked political Galapagos, a dry island where species no longer found in the rest of the world still roam free.
Unitarian Universalists in Phoenix stand with Immigrant, Labor, and Civil Rights Groups. We demand: Stop the raids! Revoke Maricopa County's 287(g) agreement! Investigate Sheriff Arpaio!
Empowered by federal 287(g) agreements, which give local law enforcement the power and authority to enforce federal immigration laws, Sheriff Joe Arpaio has used this authority to create an environment of fear and intimidation throughout Maricopa County. His tactics are destroying families and the larger fabric of community in the Phoenix area. Under the guise of justice, he and the Sheriff's department rely on the worst acts of profiling, discrimination and civil rights abuses. What's more, his actions fail to address the criminal problems that result from the human and drug trafficking across the border because they only serve to victimize the most powerless, easy targets.
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The “killer ape” theory means we’ve gotten to where we are today through genocide. Says Ardrey, “We were born of risen apes, not fallen angels, and the apes were armed killers besides. And so what shall we wonder at? Our murders and massacres and missiles, and our irreconcilable regiments?” This is who we truly are, says Ardrey. Liberal religion tried to throw away the idea of original sin, but secular science revalidated a version of it. Scratch the surface, rub off the thin veneer of religion and ethics and civilization, and we find something horrible that is nothing less than the secret of our success.
Where do we go from here, if this horrible vision is true? Another movie scene comes to mind, this time from the classic The African Queen. Surrounded by the jungle, Katharine Hepburn’s character says, “Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above.” In others words, work even harder to shore up the thin veneer of civilization so that the jungle within us—the inexplicable pressure to do violence—is kept bottled up, pushed down. Sing hymns louder, perhaps; meditate more; repeat the Principles and Purposes regularly and often. Face your fate like a plucky and undaunted heroine, and rise above.
But defying nature only goes so far. Putting on a brave face won’t take away the dread we’ll never be able to stop feeling about ourselves—the sense that there exists a murderous force within us, so alien to all that we hold sacred and holy, so untrue to the teachings of our greatest prophets, so alien to our hopes for peace and justice for all, so irreconcilable with the idea that people have inherent worth and dignity. No inner light within, but inner seething. Therefore we could never truly trust our instincts; constant vigilance is needed to preserve the thin veneer. Not freedom, but authoritarianism, would be the better way in religion and in life. Unitarian Universalism, in short, would cease to make any sense.
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The April 2009 issue of Parents Magazine has an interesting photo-essay on baby-welcoming ceremonies in various faiths. There is a Jewish one, a Korean one, etc. On page 156 they feature a Unitarian-Universalist ritual performed in Marquette, Michigan. The father explains that it was custom-designed by the parents as a celebration of the new life and to introduce the child to the church. As the article mentions, there was “a candle lighting, a rituals with water and rose petals, inspirational readings, singing by young guests, and a song written and performed for the baby by his proud dad.”Read the entire post here.
There are a couple of interesting things that this article brings up. One is the presence of baby-welcoming ceremonies in UUism.
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The other thing to discuss is the way UUism is framed by the article. Because while the ritual is explicitly explained to be at a church, it is given the heading “A Secular Ceremony.” Even more interestingly, directly below it is a Roman Catholic baptism, which is headed “A Sacred Rite.” Why were these word choices made? What does this say about the presentation of Unitarian-Universalism?
It seems odd to label something secular when it takes place in a church, with ritualistic elements, strongly paralleling (though modifying) ancient Christian methods. Apparently, because the UU ritual was created for the gathering rather than being handed down from the past, or perhaps because it is UU and not Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or Buddhist, this was not seen as a sacred event by the writer.
Religion convinced the world that there's an invisible man in the sky who watches everything you do. And there's 10 things he doesn't want you to do or else you'll go to a burning place with a lake of fire until the end of eternity. But he loves you! ...And he needs money! He's all powerful, but he can't handle money! [...] I've begun worshiping the sun for a number of reasons. First of all, unlike some other gods I could mention, I can see the sun. It's there for me every day. And the things it brings me are quite apparent all the time: heat, light, food, a lovely day. There's no mystery, no one asks for money, I don't have to dress up, and there's no boring pageantry. And interestingly enough, I have found that the prayers I offer to the sun and the prayers I formerly offered to God are all answered at about the same 50-percent rate. [...] Religion is sort of like a lift in your shoes. If it makes you feel better, fine. Just don't ask me to wear your shoes. And let's not nail the lift to the natives' feet.– George Carlin
So keep fightin' for freedom and justice, beloveds, but don't you forget to have fun doin' it. Lord, let your laughter ring forth. Be outrageous, ridicule the fraidy-cats, rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin' ass and celebratin' the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was.-Molly Ivins
If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.– Henry David Thoreau, Walden, Conclusion, 1854
When a Jewish boy turns 13, he heads to a temple for a deeply meaningful rite of passage, his bar mitzvah. When a Catholic girl reaches about the same age, she stands in front of the local bishop, who touches her forehead with holy oil as she is confirmed into a 2,000-year-old faith tradition. But missing in each of those cases — and in countless others of equal religious importance — is any role for government. There is no baptism certificate issued by the local courthouse and no federal tax benefit attached to the confessional booth, the into-the-water-and-out born-again ceremony or any of the other sacraments that believers hold sacred.
Only marriage gets that treatment, and it's a tradition that some legal scholars have been arguing should be abandoned. In a paper published March 2 in the San Francisco Chronicle, two law professors from Pepperdine University issued a call to re-examine the role the government plays in marriage. The authors — one of whom voted for and one against Proposition 8, which ended gay marriage in California — say the best way out of the intractable legal wars over gay marriage is to take marriage out of the hands of the government altogether.
Rigoberta Menchú, Nobel Peace Laureate from Guatemala, will speak at the Chapel in collaboration with the University of Houston chapter of PeaceJam Foundation. Menchú first spoke at the Chapel in 1992 just prior to her nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize, which she was awarded that same year. Her talk will occur immediately preceding the presentation of pianist Sarah Cahill in Music for Peace.
Suggested contribution of $5 - $10.
The international observance of Music for Peace is the occasion for this concert with pianist Sarah Cahill, who has commissioned a group of composers to write new works on the theme of peace. The California-based pianist is a specialist in new American music. The title of the program, which she is performing throughout the United States, comes from a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Nobel Peace Prize lecture, where he said, “We must see that peace represents a sweeter music, a cosmic melody that is far superior to the discords of war.” A diversity of expression is represented in works by composers who range in age from their teens to their seventies, including Preben Antonsen, Meredith Monk, Terry Riley, Yoko Ono, and Pauline Oliveros. This event is a collaboration with the Foundation for Modern Music.
Suggested contribution of $5 - $10.
Feel free to use this at your next cocktail party when you want to impress strangers with your up-to-the-minute knowledge of religious terminology: Talibangelist.ooooh, how so very nasty without being explicit . . . .
It's the newest term coined by Savage Love advice columnist Dan Savage. Not entirely sure of the precise definition, but going on past precedent, I don't think he intends it as a compliment -- either to the Taliban or evangelicals.
I won't go into detail about Savage's other potty-mouthed terminology -- this is a family-friendly news blog, after all -- but needless to say, if you Google the term "Saddlebacking," a not-so-nice reference to Rick Warren's Saddleback Church, you'll see what I mean. I won't get into what he said about a former senator from Pennsylvania.
If there is a wholesome counterpoint to the gossip-rich travails of single-mom Nadya Suleman and her 14 children, it might be Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar, who had their 18th child just weeks before the arrival of Suleman's octuplets in January. The Duggar birth was televised on the Arkansas couple's popular TLC reality show, "17 Kids and Counting" (now "18 Kids and Counting"). Unlike Suleman, who was vilified as the freakish, government-assistance-dependent "Octomom," the Duggars' abundant progeny often attract admiration. Their children play violin, their palatial home is immaculate and the family matriarch is a soft-spoken multitasker who gently keeps order in her immense household.
Watching Michelle Duggar manage her Herculean tasks is addictive. We like to marvel at the logistics of life in oversized reality-TV families like the Duggars or the participants of the series "Kids By the Dozen" (also on TLC), which features families with at least 12 children each. How do they do all that laundry every week? Afford all those gallons of milk or cope with a joint birthday party for 13?
But there's one big omission from the on-screen portrayal of many of these families: their motivation. Though the Duggars do describe themselves as conservative Christians, in reality, they follow a belief system that goes far beyond "Cheaper by the Dozen" high jinks. It is a pro-life-purist lifestyle known as Quiverfull, where women forgo all birth-control options, viewing contraception as a form of abortion and considering even natural family planning an attempt to control a realm—fertility—that should be entrusted to divine providence.
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Quiverfull doesn't follow from any particular church's teachings but rather is a conviction shared by evangelical and fundamentalist Christians across denominational lines, often spread through the burgeoning conservative homeschooling community, which the U.S. Department of Education estimates has more than 1 million school-age children, and which homeschooling groups say easily has twice that number.
Quiverfull's pronatalist emphasis is linked to a companion doctrine of strident antifeminism among conservative Christians who see the women's liberation movement as the origin of a host of social ills, from abortion to divorce, women working and teen sex. "Feminism is a totally self-consistent system aimed at rejecting God's role for women," Pride wrote in 1985; since then, the movement she helped create has erected an opposite and equally self-consistent system of "biblical womanhood."
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A glimpse of this reality is sometimes visible beneath TV's glossy treatment of Quiverfull families, but more often it's difficult to see the hard edges of ideology underlying yet another large family adventure.
We are losing our religion.
That, with apologies to R.E.M., is the startling conclusion of a new study, the American Religious Identification Survey, conducted by researchers at Trinity College of Hartford, Conn. The poll of over 54,000 American adults found a sharp erosion in the number of people claiming religious affiliation.
A few highlights: The number of people who call themselves Christian is 76 percent, down 10 percentage points since 1990.
Thirty percent of married couples did not have a religious ceremony.
Better than one in four Americans do not expect a religious funeral.
It is important to reiterate that we are talking about overall percentages. In raw numbers, there are actually about 22 million more Christians now than in 1990. Still, the trend is clear, particularly as illustrated in one telling statistic: In 1990, 8.2 percent (about 14 million) of us said ''none'' when asked to specify their religion. Last year, 15 percent (34 million) did.
Some have suggested our loss of faith is due to increased diversity, mobility and immigration. I'm sure there's something to that, but I tend to think the most important cause is simpler: Religion has become an ugly thing.
originated with French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal, whose Pensées (1670) was a collection of some 800 to 1,000 notes and manuscript fragments expressing his religious beliefs.I am borrowing the name for his collection and not a jot of his beliefs. This blog will be the notes and fragments expressing my own religious journeys and musings. I expect it will be fun and somewhat irreverent.
