Language of Reverence

A sermon delivered on September 14, 2003 at theUnitarian Universalist Church, Urbana IL
by the Reverend Axel H. Gehrmann

“The sum of human wisdom is not contained
in any one language, and no single language
is capable of expressing all forms
and degrees of human comprehension.”
-- Ezra Pound

Reading: a poem by Anne Sexton entitled “Not So. Not So.”

I cannot walk an inch
without trying to walk to God.
I cannot move a finger
without trying to touch God.
Perhaps it is this way:
He is in the graves of the horses.
He is in the swarm, the frenzy of the bees.
He is in the tailor mending my pantsuit.
He is in Boston, raised up by the skyscrapers.
He is in the bird, that shameless flyer.
He is in the potter who makes clay into a kiss

Heaven replies:
Not so! Not so!

I say thus and thus
and heaven smashes my words.

Is not God in the hiss of the river?

Not so! Not so!

Where then?
I cannot move and inch.

Look to your heart
that flutters in and out like a moth.
God is not indifferent to your need.
You have a thousand prayers
but God has one.

Reading: a poem by Billy Collins entitled “Introduction to Poetry”

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to water-ski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

A Language of Reverence

Earlier this year there was an article in the New York Times entitled “A Heated Debate Flares in Unitarian Universalism.” According to the article, this debate has “generated more e-mail, letters and telephone calls than any other issue” in our association’s history - “a big statement for a contentious group that has had some huge blowups over race, war and gender issues.”

You may wonder, what could be so unsettling for us? Which issue currently on the minds of Unitarian Universalists across the country warrants the attention of the New York Times? Is it our critical stance toward economic globalization? Or our request for open, bipartisan hearings to examine the justification for the invasion of Iraq? Is it our call for complete funding for studies of global HIV/AIDS? Or our continuing support for women’s rights and reproductive freedom?

The article tells us it is none of these. But rather it is a challenge posed by Bill Sinkford, the president of the Unitarian Universalist Association. What has inflamed Unitarian Universalists near and far, is Sinkford’s suggestion that UUs make a concerted effort to reclaim a “vocabulary of reverence.”

In the March/April issue of the UU World, Bill Sinkford wrote, that rereading the UU principles we adopted in the mid-1980s, he was struck that they contained not a single word of “traditional religious language.” Our principles (which you can find on the back of your order of service), speak only of “the inherent dignity of every person,” of “respect,” “the right of conscience,” and “the interdependent web.”

In Sinkford’s mind this lack of traditional religious language is a problem.

There is a substantial and vocal number of UUs who don’t like the sound of what Sinkford is saying. Many of us have come to UUism in order to find an alternative to the traditional language heard in mainline churches. Some of us call Sinkford’s efforts a sign of “creeping creedalism” - a serious charge for a faith that is proud to be creedless.

One reader’s letter, responding to Sinkford’s column, says, “President William Sinkford quotes the Rev. David Bumbaugh: “[W]e have lost the ability to speak of that which is sacred, holy, of ultimate importance to us, the language which would allow us to enter into critical dialogue with the religious community.” Frankly, I haven’t the vaguest idea what this means. If it means redefining words like “god,” “holy,” “sacred,” “spiritual,” etc., I don’t see how that would aid communication; I would think that it would only add to confusion.”
“I know that I am often deeply moved by a beautiful sunset or sunrise; by beautiful music; by sudden deep rapport with a friend or, more strikingly, a stranger. But I contend that these largely emotional feelings can be described by well-defined words without the need for mumbo-jumbo religiosity.” (UU World July/August 2003 by Karl Puechl, Hemet California)

* * *

I find it very telling that, despite the fact that we consider ourselves a faith concerned with “deeds and not creeds,” a discussion of religious language is causing more concern than any of our activist initiatives.

* * *

The debate about religious language in Unitarian Universalist churches is often thought of as a tug of war between those who like words like “spirit,” “soul,” and “God” and those who don’t.

As if on the one side are those who are comfortable with the rituals and symbolism traditionally associated with religion. And on the other side are those more attracted to the academic and scholarly side of religion.

As if on the one side are those who are interested in evocative religious stories and ancient myths. On the other side are those who are drawn to the latest insights of scientists and psychologists who seek to unravel the mysteries of the mind.

Those on this side see their opposition as cold-hearted, overly intellectual and aloof. Those on that side see their opposition as sentimental, overly emotional and touchy-feely.

As if this were a heated debate between entrenched enemy forces, engaged in a passionate, no-holds-barred battle for the heart and mind of their religious movement.

In the heat of the battle, we may sometimes act as if religious truth could best be found by singling out certain conspicuous words, and subjecting them to intense scrutiny. As if by tying them to chairs with rope, and beating them with a hose, we might find out what they really mean.

But I think this is neither the most accurate nor the most useful way to think about the issue of religious language.

Yes, there are differences among us, regarding how to speak of religious things. But our differences only point to a larger concern. Our differences point to crucial questions we share: How can we talk about what it is that inspires us? How can we talk about what moves us? How can we give voice to our experiences of suffering and elation? How can we find words that touch the deepest dimensions of our lives? Which words can guide us when we are lost? Which words can heal us when we are hurt?

* * *

In an essay entitled “Teaching Language in Open Enrollment,” Adrienne Rich writes about her experiences teaching at New York City College in the late 1960s and the harsh realities countless students face in the city’s public schools.

Many youth there live in an environment defined by poverty, violence and neglect, and are treated by the chronically under-funded schools as hopeless cases, devoid of potential, incapable of learning. There are students who leave “the campus at three or four o’clock after a day of classes, [go] to work as a waitress, or clerk, or hash-slinger, or guard, [come] home at ten or eleven o’clock to a crowded apartment with TV audible in every corner” and then are accused of lacking the will or ability to apply themselves to their studies - perhaps reading Byron’s “Don Juan” or Jane Austen - which are often utterly removed from their world of experience.

Adrienne Rich believes that language plays a powerful part in the lives of these students. She writes, “I think of myself as a teacher of language: that is, as someone for whom language has implied freedom, who is trying to aid others to free themselves through the written word, and above all through learning to write it for themselves. I cannot know for them what it is they need to free, or what words they need to write; I can only try with them to get an approximation of the story they want to tell. I have always assumed, and I do still assume, that people come into the freedom of language through reading, before writing; that the differences of tone, rhythm, vocabulary, intention, encountered over years of reading are, whatever else they may be, suggestive of many different possible modes of being. But my daily life as a teacher confronts me with young men and women who have had language used against them, to keep them in their place, to mystify, to bully, to make them feel powerless.”

Language can be used against us. Religious language can be used as a tool of intimidation. It can be used to paint frightening pictures of hell-fire, and to threaten those who dare to doubt the preacher’s words with damnation. Religious language can be reduced to meaningless mantras mindlessly recited. Religious language can be used to draw deep lines of division between those who use one particular liturgy, and those who use another, casting one group as sinners, and the other as saved. Religious language can be used to stifle our religious imagination, and to squelch our religious questions, and to belittle our religious insights.

Those of us who have had these experiences have good reason to be wary of religious language. There is good reason to call for cautious use of religious imagery.

But the answer is not to avoid traditional religious language altogether.

Adrienne Rich writes, “At the bedrock level of my thinking [...] is the sense that language is power, and that, [...] those who suffer from injustice most are the least able to articulate their suffering; and that the silent majority, if released into language, would not be content with a perpetuation of the conditions which have betrayed them. But this notion hangs on a special conception of what it means to be released into language: not simply learning the jargon of an elite, fitting unexceptionably into the status quo, but learning that language can be used as a means of changing reality.”

The answer is not avoid religious language altogether. A better course of action is to find a religious voice of one’s own. To be “released into language,” and learning that “language can be used as a means of changing reality.”

* * *

I, for one, am glad that language is getting some attention among us. Not because I believe we need a new authoritative statement of our principles. Not because I believe we need an officially approved religious vocabulary for Unitarian Universalist worship.

I am glad, because I believe that our concern with religious language is perhaps the most essential aspect of our faith. We have always believed in the power of words. We have always believed the meaning of words matter.

Our forebear, Michael Servetus, was burned at the stake for this belief. Francis David languished in prison for this belief. John Murray was driven from his native land to North American shores for this belief.

These people knew language can be used against us. It can be used to keep us in our place, to mystify us, to bully us, to make us feel powerless.

And they knew language can also be used to set us free. Language can be used to name the pain and injustice we know, to challenge it, and ultimately to transform it. Language has the power to provide meaning, to reveal truth, and to create justice.

* * *

I am all for using traditional religious language. But I am also for using contemporary religious language. I am for language that is reverent and language that is irreverent. Archaic and post-modern language. Scientific language and silly language. Profound language and mundane language.

I want to embrace any word that can help move me closer to a fresh and authentic knowledge of that which is at the heart of life. I want to embrace any word that can remind me of those few and fleeting moments when I have felt fully and ecstatically alive.

I want to embrace any word that opens my eyes to the world in which I live, that can unveil the simple and poignant beauty of common things to which I have become blind. I want to embrace any word that can open my ears to the voices of brothers and sisters to whom I have grown deaf.

* * *

Casting our conversation about language in terms of a heated dispute, as a contest between opposing factions, creates a false dichotomy which does injustice to the issue at hand and serves no one.

In reality even the most rational scientist also relies on intuition and inspiration to guide her research. In reality even the most romantic poet relies upon a sharp intellect as he carefully and critically weighs his words.

Within each of our hearts there is a poet and a pragmatist. Within each of our hearts there is a romantic and the rationalist. Only if we bring the wholeness of who we are to the task, can we hope catch or convey a glimmer of religious truth.

May we be mindful of the power of words
and may we ever seek to use them respectfully
to heal and not to harm
help and not to hinder
to bless not to curse
and to serve one another
in the spirit of love.

Amen.

Unitarian Universalist Association
25 Beacon St. | Boston, MA 02108 | 617-742-2100