Radical Hospitality

First Unitarian Church of Des Moines
Sunday 4/9/06

 

Our opening words come from liberal religious educator Sophia Lyon Fahs

 

We gather in reverence before the wonder of life—

The wonder of this moment

The wonder of being together, so close yet so apart—

Each hidden in our own secret chamber,

Each listening, each trying to speak—

Yet none fully understanding, none fully understood.

We gather in reverence before all intangible things—

That eyes see not, nor ears can detect—

That hands can never touch, that space cannot hold, and time cannot measure.

 

Meditation        

Spoken: Parable of Four Frogs, by Kahlil Gibran

"Four frogs sat upon a log that lay floating on the edge of a river. Suddenly the log was caught by the current and swept slowly down the stream. The frogs were delighted and absorbed, for never before had they sailed.

 

"At length the first frog spoke, and said: "This is indeed a most marvelous log. It moves as if alive. No such log was ever known before."

 

"Then the second frog spoke, and said: "Nay, my friend, the log is like other logs, and does not move. It is the river, that is walking to the sea, and carries us and the log with it."

 

"And the third frog spoke, and said: "It is neither the log nor the river that moves. The moving is in our thinking. For without thought nothing moves."

 

"And the three frogs began to wrangle about what was really moving. The quarrel grew hotter and louder, but they could not agree.

 

"Then they turned to the fourth frog, who up to this time had been listening attentively but holding his peace, and they asked his opinion.

 

"And the fourth frog said: "Each of you is right, and none of you is wrong. The moving is in the log and the water and our thinking also."

 

"And the three frogs became very angry, for none of them was willing to admit that his was not the whole truth, and that the other two were not wholly wrong.

 

"Then the strangest thing happened. The three frogs got together and pushed the fourth frog off the log into the river."

 

 

Silence: Let us share in a moment of silence.

 

 

Readings:

"Everywoman Her Own Theology" by Alicia Ostriker

 

My proposals, or should I say requirements,

Include at least one image of a god,

Virile, beard optional, one of a goddess,

Nubile, breast size approximating mine,

One divine baby, one lion, one lamb,

All nude as figs, all dancing wildly,

All shining. Reproducible.

In marble, metal, in fact any material.

 

Ethically, I am looking for

An absolute endorsement of loving-kindness.

No loopholes except maybe mosquitoes.

Virtue and sin will henceforth be discouraged,

Along with suffering and martyrdom.

There will be no concept of infidels;

Consequently the faithful must entertain

Themselves some other way than killing infidels.

 

Radical Hospitality

 

At the end of January there was a church chat on long range planning for our congregation. Participants divided into 4 groups focusing on goals identified as important to the community. They were:

1. Be known as a church where a person can hear new ideas, meet people with a variety of beliefs and have new experiences that will transform their view of the world and their connection to it.
2. Be known as a church that encourages members to quest for their own spiritual meaning.
3. Be known as a family-friendly church that provides outstanding liberal religious education to all ages.
4. Be known as a church that works with other churches and organizations to transform the community to achieve greater social justice.

I was out of town while this meeting took place but received a list of 28 ideas, aspirations and suggestions about religious education programming. The list included ideas like:

v    Teach our young people what it means to be Unitarian Universalist (Values)

v    Have a sense of who are we as Unitarians and how it compares with everyone else on the planet

v    Teach our young people and young adults how to be accepting by teaching the commonality between different beliefs

v    Deal with the fact that 2/3 of our members are coming from some other religious background

The 19th statement caught my attention. Do we teach UU arrogance?  That others are stupid, bigoted and narrow minded. I was not surprised by the idea—I’ve wrestled with this question for years—but I was surprised to find it on the list. Someone named the “elephant in the room” or more accurately called us on a hypocrisy that many of us hold at one time or another. It is not a “nice’ thought. In a tradition which affirms an individual’s free and responsible search for truth and meaning and calls our congregations to be places where each of us can explore, learn and develop our spiritual selves—have we been boasting that if you select our path—we and only we have the answer to life’s most perplexing questions.

 

Have we become narrow minded when thinking about what our tradition offers compared to what other people believe? Are we holding ourselves up—saying “hey you, come over here and see that we are doing this religion thing the right way.

Having been raised in a Unitarian Universalist household at the height of the religious humanist movement—I have heard and still hear echoes today from those who would posit that any reasonable—logical—rational human being does not believe in God—therefore, if you do believe in God—you must be “out of your mind”—unbalanced—unreasonable—need a crutch—uneducated—irrational… you get what I mean. So of course I tried not be weak minded and I didn’t think about it a lot.

         When I entered seminary— I chose to attend Andover Newton Theological School, a school affiliated with the American Baptists and the United Church of Christ because it offered a well rounded program of study with an emphasis on practical ministry. For the first half of my studies I fought looking too deeply into what I believed. After all, I was a Unitarian Universalist, although not an atheist—I wore my agnosticism as a medal of honor. The thing is, when you live with and among people of deep faith—a faith different than your own—you start to wonder whether you might be wrong. My Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, and United Church of Christ friends while not necessarily trying to convert me—challenged me to discover what was true in my faith. Rather than turning from them or turning from my own tradition, which was tempting at times—I opened myself to exploring the truth about my tradition and where my faith intersected with it and how my neighbors differed from it.

         In this morning’s meditation, The Parable of the Four Frogs, 3 of the four frogs holds a differing truth about how the log is moved down the river. The 4^th frog points out that they are all correct. Since the three do not want to accept that there is room for more than one truth—they toss the fourth frog into the river. In the UU curriculum Building Your Own Theology, Rev. Richard Gilbert writes that—of course the fourth frog probably was a Unitarian Universalist. After all:

          “the fourth frog understands the importance of conversations     that matter, of dialogue on questions of ultimate concern. Each of the frogs has a valuable insight; no one of them has the whole          truth. Each of us is responsible for finding truth, for contributing       our small truths to a larger truth. We share the truth openly and          honestly as we experience it in our living. I learn from you and          you learn from me. None of us has a monopoly.

         In this community of conversation and dialogue no one is pushed          into the river by those ultra-confidant about their monopoly of      the truth. From this kind of religious hope and humility it is          possible to learn something.” (Gilbert, xxviii)

It would be nice to be so certain that we celebrate and acknowledge that the Truth is unique to each individual and that knowing that there are so many truths out there—we can still be comfortable with our own and resist the temptation to push others off the log.

         Unfortunately, being human means that we fall short of this ideal state of being. I think we find ourselves challenged by the idea that two opposing truths can both be true. Philosopher in the history of ideas, Isaiah Berlin described this in the book, The Crooked Timber of Humanity, as the mistaken perception of the Platonic Ideal, which has shaped the intellectual thought in the western world. He wrote:

(a) that to all genuine questions there is one true answer and one only, all others being deviations from the truth and therefore false;

(b) that the true answers to such questions are in principle knowable;

(c) that these true answers cannot clash with one another, for one true proposition cannot be incompatible with another; that together these answers must form a harmonious whole…”    (Berlin, 209) And when we can’t fit life’s questions into this ordered reasonable perfect solution, “it is likely to produce suffering, disillusionment and failure.” (Berlin, 48)

         Can two opposing truths be real? Is there only one answer to life’s questions? In this morning’s story, the people tried to live according to one answer—when it proved unsatisfactory—they tried another—and another—finally realizing that their life could be enriched by the variety of answers out there.

         In our tradition we affirm an individual’s free and responsible search for truth and meaning. So, how do we find the truth? What makes it valid? In the order of service our Principles and Sources are printed on the inside cover. The sources are an important link to the principles because they tell us that we are guided by the authority found within them. Our sources are not found in a single text but are to be explored in the variety of ideas and actions of people in the past, present and future. It comes from personal experience and how we make sense of the world. It comes from the use of reason and results of science. It is found in people from all traditions and cultures who have challenged injustice and called for compassion and the transforming power of love. It is found in the wisdom of the world’s religions.

         When we have found and lived our truth—are we able to accept the truth and life of another that differs from our own? Do we need to defend it—because if not—our truth will be diminished by another’s? When I worked for Professor Nohria at Harvard Business School, he co-wrote a book titled, Driven: How Human Nature Shapes our Choices. Their research suggested that there are 4 universal drives inherent in human beings:

         “The Drive to acquire (the drive to seek, take, control, and retain          objects and personal experiences humans value); Drive to bond(to form social relationships and develop mutually caring          commitments with other humans, that, in fact, is fulfilled only when the attachment is mutual); drive to learn (to satisfy our          curiosity, to know, to comprehend, to believe, to appreciate, to          develop understandings or representations of their environment      and of themselves through reflective process ; drive to defend         (themselves and their valued accomplishments whenever they          perceive them to be endangered.)” (Nohria, 59,76, 107, 130)

This drive to defend is not just about defending one’s person from bodily harm but also defending those things we value. Defending what we believe. When someone threatens what we know to be true—what makes us feel of value—we strike back with the fear that what we value will be taken away—our truth—our reality is diminished by the other. 

         Recently, Bob Henderson led an adult education class based on the book, The Dignity of Difference: How to Avoid the Clash of Civilizations, by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks.  Sachs describes how tribalism (which you might define as those central ideas or ideals that define a group of people—like politics—religious tradition—ethnicity—sexual identity—social norms) is not the only danger to a fragmenting world.

He writes: “The paradox is that the very thing we take to be the antithesis of tribalism - universalism - can also be deeply threatening, and may be equally inadequate as an account of the human situation. A global culture is a universal culture, and universal cultures, though they have brought about great good, have also done immense harm. They see as the basis of our humanity the fact that we are all ultimately the same.” (Sachs, 47)

As I read that passage, I wondered if it was unfortunate that our tradition has the name Universalism within it. The idea of Universalism developed in reaction to Calvin’s theological belief in predestination. Only those pre-selected before birth would be saved—no matter how you lived your life. Universalism is a danger when we think that everyone should believe the same thing—experience life in the same way—and come to the same conclusions we have about life. “Difference: Rabbi Sachs wrote: “does not diminish; it enlarges the sphere of human possibilities…Only when we realize the danger of wishing that everyone should be the same—the same faith on the one hand, the same McWorld on the other—will we prevent the clash of civilizations, born of the sense of threat and fear.” (Sachs, 209)

Within our tradition we acknowledge that each of us must search for what is true—create meaning out of our experiences and at the same time encourage others to do the same—knowing that they will discover what is true and meaningful for them.

         The title of my sermon came from the book, Radical Hospitality: Benedict’s Way of Love by Father Daniel Homan and Lonnie Pratt. It is based on the simple rules of hospitality of the Benedictine Monks. Although hospitality is not unique to the monastic tradition it describes a way of being that we may all aspire to but never quite reach. Homan writes: “When we accept, we take an open stance to the other person. It is more than merely piously tolerating them. We stand in the same space and we appreciate who they are, right now at this moment, and affirm the Sacred in them.” (Homan, xxvi)

         I don’t like the word tolerance because it implies a judgment. It says that the one who tolerates –is somehow superior to the other—I might tolerate you and your differences—but I am more intelligent—more enlightened—more in tune with the “Truth” than you are. You don’t quite measure up to me. Acceptance is more than tolerance—it is about receiving rather than judging. This directive is similar to our own Principles of recognizing the worth and dignity of all people and accepting one another and being a part of a community that encourages spiritual growth and learning. Practicing hospitality is fairly easy when we are surrounded by like minded people. It becomes more difficult when we are faced with someone who is different from us. The difference might be as simple as a different belief in God, political ideology, and cultural norms or as complicated as recognizing the humanity in a homeless person. Hospitality is a spiritual and a moral practice. Father Homan writes: “It is not a mere social grace…It is an issue in valuing what it means to be human. All our talks about hospitable openness doesn’t mean anything as long as some people continue to be tossed aside.” (Homan, 5) He later writes that it is not an issue of being nice to another person. Instead, “We must let the person stir us; we must connect. Benedictine hospitality will extract a cost from us, and it will tumble us into the magical realm of personal transformation.” (Homan, 21) What Homan is referring to is what our own community can find in the idea of creative interchange a concept developed by Unitarian Universalist theologian Henry Nelson Wieman.

         The act of hospitality stirs us—connects us—changes us—as we interact with another. Wieman describes the action of creative interchange as a “God event.” “God” for Wieman was not a person, a noun or an object but God is a verb—an action—moving between two beings who are changed in some way by the interaction. Wieman describes the creative event as having four stages: First, there is an exchange between two beings and although a dialogue might ensue—I think that it could be an unspoken exchange; second, through this exchange you integrate new meaning with the old; third, it expands your perceptions about the world—about reality—perhaps describes as seeing the world with new eyes; and finally, the community you participate in expands with your new perceptions. These actions create a “human good” because as an individual’s perception of themselves and others is expanded and integrated—a deeper understanding of the human condition develops perhaps calling the individual to an action that they might never have undertaken.

         Being human we cannot always be our best selves at all times. The practice of radical hospitality is practice. Practicing your willingness to recognize the humanity in another—practicing your acknowledging the uniqueness of their experience in the world no matter how radically different it is from your own—practice knowing that your strengths and your weaknesses are unique to you—practice being willing to open yourself to another and be changed. Practice—I don’t think anybody can ask themselves more than that.

         And as far as the truth goes—I don’t have any definitive opinion about the nature of Truth—if there is some guiding principle that orders or disorders the universe—or if there is some definite reason for being—I remember reading somewhere that a philosopher once said that there was no reason the believe that the Truth, when found, would necessarily prove interesting.

 

 

Closing words come from Rev. Richard Gilbert.

 

“We did not create the order of things—the Earth, the moon, the stars and galaxies, photons and electrons, the evolutionary web that spun us into existence. However, we are the interpreters of this reality; we try to make some sense of it all. We seek to wrest meaning from the Earth we have inherited. While astronomically speaking we are negligible in the cosmos, astronomically speaking we are the astronomers.” (BYOT II, pg. xxv)

And personally, I would add—that as astronomers—each of us looks at the cosmos through a different lens.