Vocation

UU Easter Musings

March 31, 2013 at 12:58 pm

As I sit here in front of my computer, typing quickly before I head off to the slew of Easter services that Marsh Chapel is holding this morning, I think about all the things Easter has meant to me.

I’m wearing a new dress now, as always, because that was a constant in our family–my mom was adamant on having a new set of clothes to wear for Easter morning (I didn’t get it then, but now I suppose it was one of her small ways of symbolizing new life and a fresh start; back then, I was just excited to get a new fluffy pastel dress). My dad would also buy all his girls–my mother, my sister, and me–fresh lily corsages, tied in ribbons around our wrists. In my South Carolina hometown, it would be azalea season, and we would always get pictures in front of the vibrant, delicate magenta flowers.

In the mornings before church, we would find our Easter baskets, hidden craftily around the house in places like the inside of the oven or behind the door of the washing machine. After church, we would hunt Easter eggs while Easter dinner cooked, crowing in triumph when one of us found the “golden” egg (so called because it had a $5 bill inside of it, instead of small change, like the others).

My Easter memories aren’t really about religion.

Most of what I remember about Easter church services are lilies at the front and purple on the altar. At one of our churches, there was always a cross made of flowers put out front on Easter Sunday, and after church, they let the children pluck flowers from it to take home.

Now that I’m older–and studying religion, and working at Marsh Chapel–I have to put more thought into Easter. It can’t just be a holiday where I go and sing some hymns and then sit down to a family dinner of honey ham. I have the think about it theologically.

And, as a Unitarian, that can be tricky. Easter is a holiday I love for all the fond memories, and for its themes–rebirth, new life, fresh beginnings (it’s no coincidence that it happens at the start of spring). But I was struggling with how to fit all the triumphant talk about victory over the grave and the Resurrection, which my own personal theology…well…doesn’t affirm.

And then I came across a passage from Forrest Church, one of my favorite Unitarian Universalist theologians. Here is what he had to say about Easter (and yes, I put it in typography….don’t judge):

I think this is beautiful. The idea that love is our legacy. That the story of the Resurrection is a metaphor for the transcendence of love over death.

It is something I can get behind. And it is what I will be thinking about when I sing, “Christ is Risen” in church today.

By aclauhs | Posted in Abigail | Comments (1)

On the need for a new church

March 8, 2013 at 10:17 am

Over the weeks I have been interning a Marsh Chapel many of the old anxieties I have had about church have crept back into my head. I have for as long as I can remember always been uneasy with the form of Church, the steady ritual, the sterile feeling, the image of one man standing before a docile audience claiming to speak on behalf of the divine, and the collection plate, always the collection plate, serving as a stark reminder that this holy place is just that, a place, an institution situated in a society that demands each of us bow down at the alter of green idols.

Ok so I understand that my language may be a bit harsh and fail to approach the church with the appropriate amount of attention that its complex form deserves. Yes, the steady ritual is useful in removing the self and allowing the divine to take root where the individual personality would normally reside. Yes, my lamentation of the sterility of the church may simply be a holdover from the days of my Southern Baptist theological tradition. Yes, I understand the necessity of a priestly class charged with actively reflecting on moral questions and the words of wise me, I understand the need for a guide on our spiritual journey. And yes, I understand that the church is and cannot pretend not to be an institution in society, needing to rely upon the financial support of its congregation for the church's maintenance, I understand the command to give a portion of one's earnings back to God.

I understand all of these things in large measure as a result of my internship at Marsh Chapel, but the internship has also allowed me another perspective, sitting in front of the church near the pulpit within the chancel, during the service I have the privilege of looking out towards God's assembled people. I take note of who is in the room, I examine what they are doing during each part of the service, I study their faces. And my observations have led me to one painful conclusion, God's people are no longer in love with their church. While, many find meaning in the structure, mostly a fondness for childhood, Church for many has become empty ritual.

I don't form this conclusion simply from my experience with Marsh Chapel. I take this from my various experiences with church back home in Atlanta, GA. I take this from conversations I've had with many students on campus who were brought up in a myriad of church traditions. I form this conclusion from the clear statistical evidence that America is becoming a more secular nation, measured not simply in a decline in the amount of people who attend church but also measured in a decline in the number of church attendees who believe that institution holds any authority. This trend is also coupled with a diminished number of people in America believing in absolute truth.

These sad trends can be correlated with any number of signs of moral degradation in our country: political corruption, divorce, debt-peonage, homelessness, imprisonment, drug use, single-parenting. But this is not the direction I wish to go with this post. As one sincerely wrestling with a call to ministry, I hold an a prior assumption that the church is a valuable institution that must be restored. However what to make of such an institution in a society that despises its very form. I believe first we, meaning those lovers of God, Truth, and Man, must begin with a full acknowledgement that the church must be born again. (To be continued)

By djwalker | Posted in Demarius | Comments (0)

“As you let your own light shine…

March 7, 2013 at 1:24 pm

...you unconsciously give others permission to do the same." - Marianne Williamson

Some people just have an incredible, innate ability to inspire. You can just tell that they have come in touch with their own connection to the divine (a connection I believe each of us has, but which some have a harder time finding than others). These are people who have a certain light, a certain joy.

These are people I met at Coming Together 6.

Enter the Hindu student who was teased for his faith in middle school. Determined to build understanding, he set out on a journey in high school to learn about the other religions out there. He studied with Mormons in their early-morning before-school classes for a year. He lived in a Buddhist monastery for a summer. He grabbed on tight to every opportunity that he could, making friends and building connection along the way.

Enter Elizabeth Davenport, the charming British Dean of UChicago's Rockefeller Chapel (yes, those Rockefellers), who played the bongos on our first night and had us look around the table and tell people that we loved them with our eyes.

Enter the Muslim UChicago divinity student who is training to be a hospital chaplain. Or another divinity student who said that out of being gay, socialist, and Jewish, the Jewish part was the hardest for his evangelical family to cope with. Or the Mormon doctorate student struggling with the flaws of his church but still dedicated to the family of believers.

Yes, there were panels and events and speakers and important educational opportunities at Coming Together. And I fully appreciated them (might I also mention that I fully appreciated the chocolate-covered strawberries and cake pops at the dessert reception?). But what was most meaningful to me were the human experiences--the conversations over dinner, the chats in between events, the deep late-night conversations while finding the secret stairway to the very top of the cathedral-like chapel, with the best view on campus.

One of my favorite ways of understanding our relationship to the divine is through the Quaker metaphor of an inner light. I like to think of it as a candle.

On one of the nights of the conference, a wonderful Middle Eastern music group called the Yuval Ron Ensemble (its members are Muslim, Jewish, and Christian, and their aim to build peace through music), played a concert at the chapel. The final song was very simple--the words were, "Shalom...Salam...Hallelujah." They were repeated, over and over again, beautiful and trance-like. Yuval Ron and his fellow musicians stood up and encouraged us to join in. "Shalom...Salam..Hallelujah." Our words echoed in the vast spaces of the chapel, warm and filled with melody.

And as we sang it, a cappella, all of us in harmony, I couldn't help but envisioning hundreds of tiny candles, one burning deep in the heart of each person. The longer we sang, the more they blazed together into brilliant light. I may have gotten teary-eyed. It was beautiful.

Enter the future peacemakers.

By aclauhs | Posted in Abigail | Comments (10)

Loving Our Neighbor

March 2, 2013 at 1:57 pm

As Lent goes on and my meditation on the active fast continues, I had the opportunity last night to perform to works of music that I think are quite relevant.

The first was Bach's Cantata 77, Du sollt Gott, deinen Herren, lieben. This work intertwines the Old Testament commandment to love the Lord your God, and the New Testaments teaching to love your neighbor as yourself. The second was Britten's Cantata Misericordium, which is based on the story of the Good Samaritan. Particularly striking to me is the final chorus verse of Britten:

O that men like this gentle helper, who saved a wounded
man and treated as his neighbour an unknown stranger,
may be found all over the world. Disease is spreading,
war is stalking, famine reigns far and wide. But when
one mortal relieves another like this, charity springing
from pain unites them.

This verse also resonantes beautifully with the final chorale of the Bach Cantata:

Lord, dwell in me through faith,
let it become always stronger,
so that it might be fruitful for ever and ever
and rich in good works;
so that it be active through love,
practiced in joy and patience,
to serve my neighbor from now on.

I think that meditating on these two cantatas is a wonderful opportunity to expand on the Biblical basis and suggestions for an active fast. Loving your God and loving your neighbor as yourself are in fact, I believe, an excellent centerpiece for an active fast. From this can grow nourishment of the soul and rebuilding of one's community.

By Emma | Posted in Emma | Comments (2)

Actively Fasting

February 23, 2013 at 5:57 pm

If you attended Marsh's evening Ash Wednesday service, you might have heard myself, DJ and Abigail chatting about Lent from somewhere up at the front of the chapel. To me, the most important of our sermon was the idea of an active fast, and I've spent the last week and a half trying to be especially conscious of that.

Part of my active fast did involve giving something up. I decided to give up eating meat during Lent, partly because of the Christian tradition behind it, but for other reasons as well. As an Alternative Spring Break coordinator, I attended a pre-break meeting where we heard speakers from different ASB issue area talking about why our service in those areas is important. One representative from the Humane Society gave us an overview of the effect that reducing the amount of meat you consume can help the environment. I felt like during this time of simplicity, giving up something that will actually improve the world I live in would be an active fast, but it's also motivating me to be more conscious in my daily routine of when and what I'm eating, so I'm generally being healthier.

The other part of the active fast that we talked about in our sermon involves actually doing things to reinvigorate our own souls revive our communities. By starting of my day with yoga and improving my diet, and going to sleep before midnight every night, I've felt healthier and more energized and ready to be present and useful in my community. By taking time to greet people, ask how they're doing, concentrate on other's needs as much as on my own, I feel like I've been able to be a more respectful and compassionate member of my community, not just a passive observer.

While it might be alright to do these things for a week or so, I want to challenge myself to really keep things up for the remainder of Lent--and hopefully throughout the rest of the year as well. I'm so glad that I have the motivation of our sermon behind me. I feel that because we shared this suggestion of an active fast with everyone on Ash Wednesday, I'm compelled to try to follow my own advice, and I feel and see the positive effects of this already.

By Emma | Posted in Emma | Comments (1)

Coming Together in Chicago!

February 10, 2013 at 11:27 pm

Guess where I will be this Valentine's Day? Not in the arms of a significant other, if that's what you were thinking. No, I'll be busy being swept away by, well, the Windy City.

Yes, I'll be in Chicago! I was (along with my fellow Interfaith Council Leadership Board member, Naziyya) lucky enough to nominated for the University of Chicago's Coming Together 6 interfaith student leadership conference! Here's the adorable banner they designed for it (complete with some UChicago gargoyles):

Aaaaaand...here is the schedule:

Thursday February 14, 2013

12 noon - 6:30 pm Registration
2 - 6 pm Yoga, Carillon Lessons, Campus Tours, & more!
6:30 pm Welcome dinner
8 pm Speedfaithing
8:30 pm Dessert Reception at the Oriental Institute Museum Friday

February 15, 2013

8 am Meditation: 20 Minutes Still
8:30 am Breakfast
9:30 am University Welcome with the Provost
9:50 am Joint Session with Teresa Hord Owens
10:20 am Breakout I: Identities
11:30 am Fishbowl Conversation: Sex in Paradise (and Here)
12:15 pm Jumu'ah prayers
12:30 pm Lunch
1 pm Jumu'ah prayers
1:35 pm Joint Session with Julian DeShazier
2 pm Breakout II: Self
3 pm Breakout III: Story
3:45 pm Free Time [fun & social activities!]
4:45 pm Shabbat
6:30 pm Interfaith Shabbat Dinner
8 pm Yuval Ron Ensemble concert [open to the public, free – please invite Chicago friends!]

Saturday February 16, 2013

7 am University of Chicago Tradition Kuvia: Yoga at the Point
8 am Meditation: 20 Minutes Still
8:30 am Breakfast
9:30 am Yuval Ron workshops
11:30 am Something Not Boring!
12:30 pm Lunch
1:35 pm Breakout IV: Mind
2:45 pm Joint Session with Dr. Rami Nashashibi
3:20 pm Breakout V: Practice
4:15 pm Free Time [fun & social activities!]
6:30 pm Closing Dinner & Jazz Reception at Rockefeller Chapel

Sunday February 17, 2013

8 am Chanting
8:30 am Breakfast
9:30 am Optional: Chicago Excursions
Optional: Sunday Morning Services in Hyde Park

Need I tell you that I am excited? We will be getting to meet all sorts of students involved in interfaith work from around the country (and from Canada), and it will also give me a chance to get a feel for UChicago, which is one of the places I am considering for graduate school.

No worries--you can be assured that my next blog post when I return from the conference will fill you in on everything that happened!

By aclauhs | Posted in Abigail | Comments (0)

Preach.

February 3, 2013 at 5:24 pm

We are writing a sermon.

Some four months ago, when Soren and Jen mentioned casually in passing that Marsh Associates would be preaching at some point during the year, I felt somewhat paralyzed. People spend years in school learning how to do that well, and I've got absolutely zero training in that department.

But I'm starting to get really excited for Ash Wednesday. During our weekly preaching workshop this afternoon, I felt like DJ, Abigail and I--with Soren and Jen guiding us, were able to wrestle with the outline of our sermon, thinking about how to fit in the biblical exegesis we worked on last week, the stories that we think make the matter more relatable, the theology that ties together our understanding of the scripture.

I'm still nervous as all get out about preaching--don't get me wrong. I feel like it's an amount of authority that I don't deserve, and a platform from which many incredible men and women have spoken. I'm not sure how it will feel to talk about such personal theological experiences and thoughts with my peers, and others in the BU community.

But I'm starting to feel ready for it, and very excited. I'm connecting with the scripture, and with my co-preachers. I'm eager to get a chance to practice my public speaking outside of my usual Admissions context. And I'm sensing that this will be a deeply spiritual experience for me, which I'm really starting to look forward to as it begins to unfold.

By Emma | Posted in Emma | Comments (0)

Unbelief from a Loving God?

January 31, 2013 at 6:44 pm

God is Not Great. The End of Faith. The Godless Constitution. The Portable Atheist. They are stacked up on my desk in my apartment, their abrasive titles piled one atop the other. Christopher Hitchens abounds.

Yes, I am taking a class on atheism. And agnosticism, to be exact. In US history. With the amazing Stephen Prothero (yes, he's that BU Religion professor who was on the Colbert Report). And, not surprisingly, I've already found it troubling--but not for the reasons you might think.

The first book that we read for the class was called Without God, Without Creed: The Origins of Unbelief in America. Its author, James Turner, aims to traces how the assumption that God did exist disappeared. In other words, how unbelief became possible. And he places the blame for unbelief squarely on the believers.

Yes, I'm sure you're aghast at this. But his argument is twofold: that by claiming that God could be proven through science (through the discipline of natural theology) and by making God more humanitarian, believers actually pushed people toward unbelief.

The science part came about with the discovery of Newton's laws of nature, when there seemed to be a demonstrated need for a divine Lawmaker. Then theologians of the 19th century latched onto William Paley's idea that the exquisite design of nature proved the existence of God. Turner claims that this was a mistake because by limiting God to scientific proof, it cut out the whole mystical, transcending-the-laws-of-nature aspect of God.

I can buy that.

But then there's the other part of the argument. Turner talks about the humanitarian causes that arose in the 19th century--such as those aimed at helping the poor--and how the religious people who carried out these humanitarian missions ascribed them to the will of God. Basically, they claimed that God was a moral being with humanitarian interests at heart. And Turner thinks this is a problem, because he says that by making God human-like, people lost the mysterious and unknowable side of God--and without that, why believe in a God that is just basically a good person?

It's a sticky place for me. Because I believe that old cliche that God is love. I believe what Martin Luther King, Jr. once professed when he said, "God never intended for one group of people to live in superfluous inordinate wealth, while others live in abject deadening poverty. God intends for all of his children to have the basic necessities of life, and he has left in this universe 'enough and to spare' for that purpose."

I believe in a God of love.

But also believe in a God who is too incredible and immense for us to understand his workings. I believe in a divine power too great for any of us to fathom, too large to fit in any human box of morality. A power terrible to behold, vast beyond our imaginings, both immanent and transcendent.

So I've been struggling with the question of whether I've made God too moral--whether we've made God too moral. And this is the thought I've reached--God created us as part of this interconnected universe, and purposefully gave us minds capable of conceiving of morals. They are not spelled out for us in words, but across creation. We must understand our place in this world, and take our guides to living from the interdependence we see therein. From that will come treating our neighbors as ourselves. From that will come honoring life. From that will come, as King once said, the discovery that "love is most durable power in the world, and that it is at bottom the heartbeat of the moral cosmos."

By aclauhs | Posted in Abigail | Comments (1)

Just Recently

January 27, 2013 at 7:49 pm

Recently, I was introduced to the Baha'i faith by one of the professors at Boston University. She told me about their idea of progressive revelation, meaning their faith honored many of the world religious traditions in sequence. (Please forgive me for this rather crude understanding of this complex religion) They believe that many of the great world religions; Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism etc, spoke truths to their time and place and must be understood in that context. The religion's followers also believe in the oneness of all things and highly value the individual search for truth through universal education.

Recently, I was invited by this professor to a salon, or fireside chat (they couldn't decide on a name) at the house of a Harvard professor who was also a practicing Bahai. The conversation started off with a word of prayer and then a reading from their prophet Bahá'u'lláh's Book of Revelations. Afterward they began a conversation about the concept of oneness. What ensued was one of the most pleasant moments of my life. Professors of every strip, artist, students, writers, all were engaged in a genuine struggle to make sense of this word, they struggled to figure out what others meant by it and they struggled to figure out what truths resided in their own hearts.

Recently, I found myself in the shower pondering some of the ideas of the Bahai faith and asked myself if they could be reconciled with the Christian faith. But in order to do this I first had to clearly articulate for myself what it meant to be a Christian. Usually, when people asked me about my religious faith I would always say, "I call myself a Christian, though others might disagree." This clever turn of phrase was designed to create the facade of a man of deep spirituality who also valued sober reflection, I now realize that it had the inward motive of evading a question I had long been afraid to truly answer, fearing that any real reflection on my faith would lead me to abandon it at once. But on this occasion, standing there completely disrobed of my facade, I was forced to answer the question, what did it mean to be a Christian. When I finally got to the point of very clearly articulating that question which I had worked so hard to evade, at once a flood of ideas rushed into the the forefront of my being, for a moment it was as if they occupied their own space. As I stood their no longer thinking, but knowing, I understood that I was in the presence of truth. What happened next, I do not have the vocabulary or authroity to describe but I cannot help but note the divine irony of setting.

Recently, I found myself having a conversation with my boss during the 10pm-2am shift in the Mugar Memorial Library Print Center. He asked me about a recent news story regarding a mega pastor in my hometown of Atlanta, Ga. The pastor, Bishop Eddie Long of New Birth Missionary Baptist Church, had been accused of molesting young men. Three accusers came forward claiming that during their time in New Birth's youth outreach program the pastor developed an inappropriate sexual relationship with them. To substantiate their case, they released suggestive pictures of the bishop posing in the mirror that he allegedly sent to them. The pastor initially denied the charges but later had to temporarily step down from his position and settle with his accusers out of court.

My boss brought this story to my attention knowing that I am currently wrestling with a call to ministry. He asked, "Are you going to be like Eddie Long?" I indignantly responded with a, "Hell no." Apart from the obvious, I explained that 1) did not wish to be a mega preacher, self-gratifyingly uttering words about Jesus and a camel and 2) I asserted that I did not wish to be disgraced like Bishop Long. My boss then asked, "Disgraced in whose eyes?" Seeing his smirk I understood that I just walked into the theological trap my boss, a former pastor himself, set for me. He then at 1am in the print center at Mugar Memorial Library delivered the most intimate sermon I have ever witnessed. My boss explained to me how though he had erred and lost his way Bishop Long, like all of God's people, deserved forgiveness and love. He had simply lost his way and needed to be humbled. My boss then explained what he saw to be the difference between Christians, real Christians, and the rest of God's people. After his talk I felt ashamed at the harsh judgment I previously leveled at the man, I felt ashamed that I had forgotten Love and Compassion, Divine Justice and Redemption. However at this moment I recalled the wise words I received from a student I met at BU's phenomenal School of Theology. She told me, "It is important to be self-critical and to measure oneself continually by the Christ standard, but at the end don't forget to give yourself grace."

And so I shall give myself grace. In this journey I am embarking on I know that at times I will fail at being my best self, I will fail and being truly Christ-like. I will fail at times at truly loving and being compassionate to others. I will at times fail and honestly seeking truth and not being distracted by false idols and ideologies. I know that at times I will fail to stand on the side of Justice and fight for the oppressed and the disadvantaged. This is the struggle I commit myself to and I know at times I will fail, but I will remember to learn from the divine and give myself grace. To be fair to myself I've only truly discovered that I am a Christian, just recently.

~Demarius J. Walker

By djwalker | Posted in Demarius, Uncategorized | Comments (0)

The American Creed

January 24, 2013 at 7:55 pm

So, being a major religion dork, I did not, needless to say, spend my winter break reading this:

Nope. Instead, I could be found reading this:

It is a beautiful book called The Cathedral of the World on Unitarian Universalist theology, written by Forrest Church, an inspiring Unitarian Universalist minister and theologian who struggled through a long battle with terminal cancer. The title of the book reflects the metaphor that Church used for Unitarian Universalism: that this world is a "cathedral" with people looking through many different windows (which symbolize different religions and worldviews)--but that the light coming in those windows is the same (the light being God, or the Divine). In fewer words: "many windows, one light."

Church drew a parallel between that idea and our former national motto (until the Red Scare of 1950s caused it to be changed to "In God We Trust") of "E pluribus unum"--out of many, one. He finds power in our differences and diversity, religious and otherwise.

Church dedicates a large part of the book to what he calls the American Creed, which is expressed in the Declaration of Independence with the words, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

He argues that is this creed--not our military victories nor the riches of capitalism--that make America great. It is not what we have done that makes us strong; it is what we strive to do. Church points out that we are far from flawless--inequities from slavery to tribal sovereignty to segregation and more have stained the fabric of our history. But, at our best, we fight for the realization of that creed--equality and freedom and the possibility of having a fulfilling life for us all.

For Church (and for me), this American Creed is highly religious. It is inextricably tied to our understanding that we are all God's creations and therefore interdependent and intertwined. To honor God is to bring these rights to all people.

You can imagine my goosebumps, then, when President Obama took the podium at the inauguration ceremony this Monday and said:

We affirm the promise of our democracy. We recall that what binds this nation together is not the colors of our skin or the tenets of our faith or the origins of our names. What makes us exceptional – what makes us American – is our allegiance to an idea, articulated in a declaration made more than two centuries ago:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Today we continue a never-ending journey, to bridge the meaning of those words with the realities of our time. For history tells us that while these truths may be self-evident, they have never been self-executing; that while freedom is a gift from God, it must be secured by His people here on Earth.

It sounded like someone had been reading Forrest Church. And I liked it. Normally, I'm quite cynical about politics and usually ready to point out problematic policies. But this part of Obama's speech was something that transcended politics. It was universalist theology. And by that I don't mean that it was only meant for Universalists.

No, it was a universal message. And I believe that despite our political and/or religious affiliations, it is a creed we can all strive toward together.