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Are
You Answering the Call? First
Unitarian Church of Des Moines
Reading
We are the consummation of thousands of years of religious history. We are thousands of years that have stripped off superstition and battled with tyranny; thousands of years that struggled to take fear out of religion—to take it right out of human life; thousands of years that have marched, sometimes joyfully, sometimes in agony, toward spiritual emancipation. We are indeed the consummation of something.
Yet in this world of blood and sorrow it is scarcely important, hardly worth mentioning, unless in addition we are the beginning of something, unless our religion is new—the religion that has always been new in every prophet who died rather than forsake it; the religion that has been buried over and over again in creeds and rituals… and yet has always come to life; the religion that today is new all over the earth, stammering itself into utterance in every language known to humankind.
The
religion that says freedom!
As you have listened to me, have you thought perchance that this is your religion? If you have, do not congratulate yourself. Stop long enough to recollect the miseries of the world you live in: the fearful cruelties, the enmities, the hate, the bitter prejudices, the need of such a world for such a faith. And if you still can say that this of which I have spoken is your religion, then ask yourself this question: What are you doing with it?
Sermon
When Susan and I moved to Des Moines a few years back, the phone company had a special offer on its caller ID package, the service which displays each caller’s name and number even before you pick up the phone. We were prime targets for this promotion because when we lived in Chicago, we had created our own version of caller id. We had received so many calls from telemarketers that eventually we refused to answer the phone…at least until the answering machine picked up first and we could hear who was calling. We called this screening. Our friends and family called it annoying. “Mark…Susan…pick up” they would usually say in a robotic voice that often matched the greeting on the answering machine.
Knowing that with caller ID we could screen calls in private, avoiding telemarketers without inconveniencing our friends, we couldn’t resist. After two years, I can say with certainty that caller ID is a wonderful thing.
Those of you who have experienced caller ID know what I’m talking about. There is power and comfort in having a vision of what was once unknown. The phone rings, you see a name, and you get the chance to imagine the call before you decide to answer it. Even when the caller is listed as “Name Unknown” or “Private,” you can still choose whether or not you are going to be adventurous and answer. Caller ID offers the opportunity to take a peek into the future and set our course accordingly. What could be better?
In fact, I’ve been wondering what it might be like to have a means to identify other unknowns in our lives. For example, wouldn’t it be great to have a gadget that helped us identify our best choices in moments when we need to accept or decline opportunities for big commitments? I’m talking about those moments when we are faced not with callers, but with callings—strong urges to follow a particular path. We could call the discernment gadget a “calling ID.” It would be something we could keep in our pockets, or even have implanted in our arms. Then each time we would find ourselves at the crossroads of a big decision, we would be able to glance down at our calling ID, take a peek into the future and determine if it was indeed a calling we would want to follow.
Let’s say, for example, you are deciding whether or not to change careers, go back to work, or maybe retire. It feels like there is a lot at stake…and, well, there is. It’s a big decision that will affect your family, your friends, the well-worn patterns of your life. You don’t want to make the wrong move. You want some assurance, an objective and trustworthy perspective, so you look down at your calling ID and it proclaims: “Go for it!” You feel empowered and strong. You know it is the right path, so you never look back. You enter into your new career or retirement with determination and confidence because you already know you’ll be glad you did. No matter what happens along the way, even when things get tough, you hang in there and finally reap the rewards of your choice. After all, it was the right decision. The calling ID said so, and you lived your life accordingly.
Another time, your heart tells you that you are falling in love—it feels like you have found Mr. or Ms. Right—and you are ready to fully give yourself to the relationship…hopefully for better and not for worse. After an especially good date, you look down at your calling ID and it says “Not the one.” You are angry. You don’t believe it. “Must be a mistake,” you say. So you keep dating anyway, but you have become more suspicious and more thoughtful about every word shared between you and every gesture that your loved one makes. You begin looking for faults and problems. Soon your negative expectations eventually take their toll, and, just as the calling ID told you, your new love turns out to be “not the one.”
Of course, calling ID is pure fantasy. We know that life just isn’t like this. There are few assurances of anything except our own mortality, and perhaps this is how it should be. After all, if we were always warned about the wrong paths ahead of time, we would never endure the hardships that teach us to appreciate our lives…we would never make the mistakes that help us to learn humility and gratitude.
So even if there were a calling ID, it would have to offer us ambiguous answers now and then to match the ambiguity of our lives. For instance, you find yourself wanting to share your life with a child and experience parenting. Still you have your doubts. Questions swirl through your mind night and day. “Will I be a good parent?” you wonder. “Everyone says that once the baby comes, my life will be forever changed. Will I regret the decision? Will I miss the life I am leaving behind?”
You look down at the calling ID and it says “Are you kidding me?” You are confused. Is it, “Are you kidding me?” in a good way or a bad way? Is it “Are you kidding me, of course you will miss your old life?” or is it “Are you kidding me, you will no longer care about your old life?” You look down again and it says “Yes.” With this one word, the calling ID wonderfully proclaims the paradox that is parenting, and because you have come to trust its wisdom, you live your life accordingly. You decide to embrace parenthood for the adventure it is and always will be. Knowing that there will be good times and bad--days of exhaustion when you yearn for release from the responsibility of parenting and days when you cannot imagine life without your child in it—you roll with the ups and downs and remind yourself that the best you can do will always be good enough because it is all you can do.
If my imagined calling ID gadget were truly representative of this life we share, it would probably have to be ambiguous and mysterious more often than not, just like life itself. To gain any wisdom from its messages, we would have to develop our own wisdom. We would have to nurture our capacity to interpret its data. We would have to tap into the more mundane version of calling ID that has guided humans throughout history: the old-fashioned calling ID known as faith.
Some of you may resist using the word faith. You may believe that it is too heavy with the baggage of dogma to be of any use to you, and you may be right. But let me humbly suggest that we think about faith this morning as simply whatever it is that enables us to make decisions even when we can’t be certain of their outcome. Faith is what keeps us going when times get tough, when the well of hope is running dry and life seems most untrustworthy.
When you look back at your own life, chances are good that what kept you going in times of ambiguity, challenge, or big decisions, was not just pure chance, it was faith…faith in something…whether it was in yourself, or other people, or your family, or your government… whether it was in your church, or nature, or life itself. Your faith was your homemade calling ID.
Individuals aren’t the only ones who rely on faith. Sometimes communities do, too. I’ve been thinking a lot this week about the leap of faith that the members of this church made last June when we voted to become full dues-paying members of AMOS, the organization of religious institutions from metro Des Moines who are building relational power so that we can identify and address our common interests in ways we couldn’t on our own. AMOS has been around for several years, but it is currently rebuilding and for the last year or so our church has played an important role in this process. (In fact, I’m pleased to tell you that on November 9th, we will be hosting a metro-wide AMOS assembly that will fill this hall with people from all corners of our city.) This week I attended an AMOS meeting with other area clergy whose churches are involved. The ministers present were curious…if not fascinated…to know how First Unitarian was able to so quickly join AMOS, all the while becoming not only an integral presence in the organization, but a leader of it. They wanted to know how our church, a church that has no common creed or dogma, had faith when some of their churches are still struggling to decide. I told them, “It was rather simple really. We had a few meetings and several newsletter articles, even a sermon or two…a lot of education over the course of the year with more than a few members getting involved. In the end, though, the idea sold itself to the members because the principles behind AMOS’ democratic approach to organizing and working for justice are so similar to our principles as a liberal religious faith. By the time of the annual meeting, there was virtually no dissent.”
Someone responded, “No dissent in a Unitarian church!”
“It’s not that difficult to imagine,” I said. “Yes we are a creedless faith”…(which, incidentally, prompted a few snickers from the more orthodox present)… “however,” I continued, “Unitarian Universalists do have a set of common principles we follow…principles that include affirming and promoting the inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity and compassion in human relations; use of the democratic process, and respect for the interdependent web of all existence.” As I explained our liberal approach to religion, I was reminded that these principles are the backbone of our faith, whether we call it that or not, because they are the values by which and through which we may decide to act in the world. They are the values that bind us back to those with whom we share the planet and to ourselves. They are the principles that call out to us and ask for our ultimate commitment. That’s why I call them part of our faith…we try to adhere to them because they are our best guess at what will lead to the establishment of a just and loving community…a community grounded in freedom and an ultimate optimism that encourages us to keep looking for solutions in the here and now to the problems that plague us in the here and now. They are the means by which we maintain confidence in each other and in our world. They are the means by which we can answer the callings of our lives with a resounding “yes” despite all the reasons we might have to say no.
And let’s face it. There are many forces at work encouraging us to say no, especially when we live in isolation, when we are driven by our individual predilections more than our common interest. When we can become so obsessed with the accumulation of things that we forget that life itself is passing us by. When we know more about the personal lives of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez than we do about our neighbors. When we assume that our government is a THEM rather than a WE. When we would rather throw up our hands in disgust than put them to work for the common good.
I heard a quote from a sociologist the other day that really struck a chord with me. “The saddest thing in the human condition,” he said, “is our inability to do what is in our own best interest.”
Again, “The saddest thing in the human condition is our inability to do what is in our own best interest.”
What is in our own best interest? Individually, we could all answer that question differently. But collectively, I contend we would be surprised by how much we share, if we would just take the time to listen to each other and to ourselves. Even when we are struggling as individuals to overcome our pain or despair or feelings of disconnection, we would do well, I think, to realize that underneath our anguish and loss is a yearning we share with others the world over…a yearning for something better…a desire for peace and hopefulness. A “still, small voice” sounding amidst the din of our lives. A still, small voice calling out to us to say “yes.” Not “yes” to anything, but “yes” to what we must believe. A “yes” that can carry us out of our isolation and back into community…community that calls out to us every time we feel disconnected from our lives…community that can teach us again and again the religion of continuous revelation and new beginnings. Community that encourages us to ask ourselves, “Are we answering the call?” Are we answering the call to connection with others? Are we answering the call to justice? Are we answering the call to fully inhabit this life we are living? Community that gives us the support and the challenge to not only ask the question, but to answer with a resounding, faithful, yes.
Some of you sitting with us today may be facing a big decision…a decision whether or not to join this church, to become an active participant in this religious community. This calling may have arrived in a variety of ways. You may have been going through your life, minding your own business, when a friend rings your phone. You don’t have caller ID, so you pick up. The friend asks you to come to the Unitarian church, apparently there is this “Bring a Friend Sunday” deal. You stall for a minute or two. You have been somewhat interested in that church, whether due to curiosity or confusion…you may even know a few members…but, well, church is not really your thing. “Well, it’s just one morning,” you think. “I’m sure I’ll survive.” You accept your friend’s offer. Within minutes of hanging up the phone, you are already having doubts and promise yourself that you’ll get caller ID first thing in the morning. But then when you are finally there in church, you hear words that speak to you. The people are welcoming but they don’t seem to need to convince you of anything. Much to your surprise, you feel at home.
Or maybe you have found us on your own, without the encouragement of a friend. You have been looking for a place to take your children to explore life’s big questions, a place where they can learn a respect for all the world’s great religions and for the world itself; a place where they are encouraged to discover their own religious path.
Or maybe you have been looking for a religious community for yourself. This crazy life is running you ragged and you want a place where you can find some grounding. You want a community that speaks to your mind and your heart. A community where you don’t have to leave a piece of yourself at home on Sunday. A community where you are not expected to adhere to a particular dogma…where ethical principles are more important than creeds. A community where you will be welcomed whether you are an atheist, an agnostic, a humanist, a pagan, or a theist. A community where you can ask tough questions of this life and yourself…where you can change your mind and laugh at the absurdity of the whole endeavor. A community where gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people are welcomed as fellow travelers, not as sinners the church hopes to save. A community governed by democratic process, where every member has one vote…no more, no less. A community that provides opportunities to make a difference in the lives of others. A community where worship is not unquestioning devotion, but a service of celebration for that which holds worth in our lives: everything from our brothers and sisters, to the earth we inhabit, to the extraordinary mystery of existence itself and the questions it inevitably raises.
Regardless of why or how you found the church, you begin to wonder if this liberal religious community might be the place for you. You take a look at your calling ID, not my pretend calling ID that might someday be strapped to your belt or implanted in your arm, but the calling ID that you have been carrying for years…carrying in your heart and your mind…the calling ID that has guided you in hundreds of other decisions…the calling ID that is your faith, whether you call it that or not. You take a look at your calling ID and it says “It all depends…it all depends…it all depends…on you.”
Closing Words (from George Kimmich Beach, Questions for the Religious Journey)“Nature’s delicate beauty, friendships confirmed with love, new friends found in unexpected places, words of great courage, quiet waiting, a newborn infant, our own unaccountable joy: such are the signals of transcendence that come to us, that lift us up and put us down again, gently, in a new place. Be attentive to them, tell your story about them, and be faithful to the messages they bear.”
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