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I spent New Year in Chicago with a friend and went with him to a New Years Eve party hosted by a UU couple. Some time beforehand, he had mentioned to them that I was a Unitarian minister and their first response was to enquire as to what kind of a Unitarian I was. Was I a good straightforward humanist Unitarian? Or was I one of those wishy-washy pluralistically spiritual types? My friend said that, if forced to make a choice between the two rather restrictive options given, he would probably place me in the latter camp. I appreciated his reluctance to classify me along those simplistic and ultimately misleading lines. Going to ‘dictionary.com’ the first definition given for humanism is “a person having a strong interest in or concern for human welfare, values, and dignity.” Well, by that definition I would most certainly like to think that I could call myself a humanist. However, based on conversations with UU humanists, I think that many of them would apply to themselves a slightly narrower definition of the word, and would probably be happier with one of the Oxford English Dictionary’s definitions of humanism as “a rationalistic system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters.” However in thinking about how we define words it’s useful to remind ourselves of some of their historical meanings. The Greek humanists included: pantheists, who refused to recognize the gods of their time and reserved the concept of the divine for the principle of unity in the universe; and those who espoused agnosticism and a spiritual morality not based on the supernatural. Some contemporary humanists might be reasonably satisfied with such a definition. But then there’s Renaissance humanism, espoused by thinkers such as Erasmus, firmly based within Christianity, but reviving the study of the science, philosophy, art and poetry of classical antiquity. Beauty was thought to represent a deep inner virtue, and to be an essential element in the path towards God. It rejected Calvinistic predestination, recognizing humans as being born with potential for both good and evil. Language is slippery, words are redefined and used in different contexts over time and also within the same time period of time. We need to be careful about using words, glibly and without nuanced reflection, to label people or to assign people to convenient boxes, which may have very little to do with how the people in question think of themselves. There are I suggest many among our number who are not comfortable with being glibly labeled either humanist or theist or pluralist, these are terms which are open to all kinds of interpretation and therefore need to be unpacked and looked at more closely if we are to understand what can potentially be meant by applying them to ourselves or to others. It’s possible that people might be more accurately separated according to temperament, rather than system of belief. There are those who relate more readily to poetry and those who relate more readily to systematic scientific data. These, of course, aren’t wholly distinct categories – but if, once again, forced to put myself in one of these boxes I would probably align myself with those of a poetic turn of mind, despite the fact that my primary degree was in Natural Science and I am deeply fascinated especially by the biological and earth sciences. I remember once walking along a beach (it was on Orpheus Island off the Queensland coast of Australia, where I once did some volunteer work on a marine research station – that’s just a little aside, to remind both myself and everyone else that there is some reality other than icy sidewalks and temperature that have gone down as low as 0°F in the last few days – which for me sounds even worse at -17°C). Anyway I was walking along this beautiful beach in Australia with a zoology professor and an artist. We were rummaging in rock-pools and under driftwood, picking up sea creatures and shells. The zoology professor named each one by its Latin genus and species and explained where it fits in phylogenetically with the other species on the beach. The artist, in contrast, spoke about the passionate colours of the tentacles of tube-worms or the flamboyant curve of a particular shell and how it allowed the light to catch the iridescent inlay in an especially beautiful way. The professor seemed somewhat dismissive or uninterested in the artist’s comments, and this saddened me. It is in the same way that I am sometimes saddened by the dismissive-ness of UU humanists towards the explorations of their fellow UU into matters of the deep unexplained mysteries of the universe, into the spirituality of the earth or the possibility of spiritual encounter through communal meditation or prayer. I can just see myself here, treading into dangerous territory – humanists bristling and feeling affronted that I might be suggesting that they have no capacity for a deep appreciation of beauty and for awe-filled wonder at the mysteries of the universe. Quite right that you should bristle and take exception to being placed into a narrow box – I have no right to assign anyone to a box, based on what I think I understand of what they believe. In just the same way I take exception to being asked to classify myself into narrow categories of humanist or spiritual pluralist. Words and labels for complex or esoteric concepts can be the cause of misunderstanding and confusion, and yet I continue to use words like God and prayer which I know that some people in this community find difficult or impossible to fit into their world view. Language can be clumsy and open to misinterpretation but, in this kind of forum, it is one of the few tools that we can use to try to communicate with and understand each other. Words which are purely descriptive and rational do not reach the deep places within me which crave communion with my fellow human beings and the spark of the ineffable which suffuses the world and the deep relationships between people. I find that I am able to relate more deeply to people who understand the Irish concept of thin places – places where the veil is thin between the solid rational world of here and now and the other world of mystery, and those things which we cannot put into words. I have experienced thin places at ancient sites of ritual, such as Stonehenge in the south of England, at St Bridget’s well and Newgrange, an ancient passage tomb both in southern Ireland. I have experienced it in churches and in places of beauty – places where there seems to be some remnant of generation after generation of people who have lived deeply and close to the heart of life. These things I cannot put easily into words, but when I talk of them with others who have also experienced the power of thin places there is a spark of recognition, a feeling that we have shared some deep experiences. When I talk with people, who think that this is all gobble-de-gook – of whom there are many – there is often a feeling of disconnect, we are simply speaking a different language, we haven’t experienced the same things. With these people I sometimes have to try a bit harder to communicate, to talk about that which is important in life, but very often it’s worth the effort. There are wonderful and compassionate and worthy people among those who are purely rationalistic in their world view, just as there are among people who read and experience the world through a different prism of experience. We talk about being a community which values and celebrates diversity, but can we really say that if we can’t, not only tolerate, but actually celebrate and be truly glad of diversity within our own UU family. I celebrate the privilege of being able to stand up here and reflect on what, I have no doubt, some of you think to be less than perfectly sensible topics for discussion. I like to use the word God – but if pressed to give a definition of that word, I would struggle with concepts of ultimate reality and that which is within each human being but also somehow transcends the imperfections and fallibility of humanity. I might actually find that some who dislike the word God struggle with articulating similar concepts, using different words and images. Sometimes the vastness of the Universe is just too awesome for me to try to tap into, to try to find the strength that I need each day to do what I need to do. Sometimes I have a need to create for myself an image of God as mother or father, there are times when this image or myth is what I need in order to pick myself up and face another day. But, do I believe in God? If so what do I mean by that word God? In attempting to answer these questions I turn for help to a writer whom I have found to speak with deep intelligence and wisdom on many questions of religion and spirituality. Karen Armstrong is a religious historian, who after seven years as a nun in a very rigorous Catholic convent, initially rejected religion altogether and threw herself into a career as a secular documentary-maker casting scorn on all things religious. However later as she began to study in detail the scriptures of many of the world’s religions she came to a very different understanding of what it means to be a religious person and found again that a spiritual path is possible and deeply important for her. In her study of the world’s religions she has found that at their deepest core they hold much in common. The sages of the great religions all said the root cause of suffering lay in our desperate concern with self, which often needs to destroy others in order to preserve itself. And so they insisted that if we stepped outside the ego, then we would encounter what we call Brahman or God or nirvana or the Tao. They were all concerned with transcendence, with going beyond the self and discovering a reality that could not be defined in words – but which was represented by words such as nirvana or God. Armstrong suggests, the trouble is that we try to define God too closely; that the most eminent Jewish, Christian and Muslim theologians all say, you can't think about God as a simple personality, an external being; it might be better to say that God doesn’t exist, because our notion of existence is far too limited to apply to God. She contends that the ancient sages and originators of today’s great religions did not care about theology or metaphysical speculation; Jesus did not spend time discoursing about theology; in the Quran, metaphysical speculation is regarded as self-indulgent guesswork. Theology and metaphysical speculation is not religion. Religion in its purest form is engaging in practices which facilitate us in stepping outside of the ego, or getting out of our own way, so that we can live skilfully and engage compassionately with the world. This should be the one fundamental goal of all religion – to break out of the ever decreasing circles of obsessing about our own egos and self-involved lives. For different people the means by which they can achieve that goal are different. If you can do it by engaging with rationalistic and intellectual discourse – then do that. If you can live more compassionately by practicing some form of meditation – then do that. If focusing your heart and mind on some image of the divine allows you to deal more kindly with your fellow travellers – then do that. Let’s stop criticising the methods of others and try to concentrate more fully on how we ourselves can live more deeply, more compassionately, more joyfully. For me trying to live more spiritually is about trying to strengthen myself and so enable myself to engage more compassionately with the world. More and more the experiential aspect of spirituality is of greater importance to me than the intellectual aspect, and any methods I can find which help me to deepen that experience I hold to be of value. I want to close by sharing with you a short poem written by my aunt Jay Gilbert. Jay spent many years as an active member of a Hindu ashram; it was through the practices she learned at the ashram that she drew her strength for life. She writes: Except that belief is not required. Only experience counts. So after the incense And the little gift of flowers Somehow I notice, I experience, Deep, far away, like a glimmer within, A tiny sense of having come home. I do experience this. Fortunately, I have no need to account for it.”
Rev.Maud Robinson
On Sunday 5 October Rev. Maud Robinson was appointed as minister to St.Mark’s Unitarian Church, Edinburgh, The Dublin Unitarian Congregation send their best wishes and congratulations to Maud on her appointment. |