But They Don't Believe in God

Sermon by Stephen D. Edington, November 15, 1998

Reading from A Holy Curiosity, by Rev. Bruce Marshall

I struggle with God. I lose faith. I fall out of relationship with the interdependent web of existence. Sometimes I trust my own perceptions and consider only my own ends. I forget that there are limits to my knowledge, that security is never total and that human power is always subject to greater forces of existence. I try to live by my own powers, but they are not enough. Sometimes I am reluctant to enter into relationships. Relationships change people, and I don't want to be changed. I want the familiar and comfortable, and would just as soon not deal with the unknown. I stand back, not trusting the always-changing flow of existence. And sometimes I hold on to life too tightly. I cling to meanings I have created, even as they crumble. I try to control people when they need to grow on their own. I can't bear to abandon goals and ambitions even when they are no longer appropriate. I refuse to let go, to relax, to open myself to the mysteries of existence.

But then I feel myself becoming cut off from life. My strength drains. I am not renewed. I become a partial being. I try to be fully in charge, but I separate myself from the spiritual part of my life that is not subject to my careful control.

During my first years in the ministry I encountered peple who were in pain. I shared hard times with them. I was part of their lives as they endured tragedy and as others faced the everyday discouragements that wear people down. I wanted to heal them and make their pain go away, but I could not. I wanted to protect them from life, but they could not be protected. And so I despaired of the suffering in this world and how helpless we each are. I despaired of my ability to be a minister.

But then I began to realize that people did not expect me to protect or save them. They did not want a savior but someone to be with them as they encountered their pain. These people suffered, but they remained engaged in life, and they could still smile. They did notexpect me to heal them, because life itself heals. Life heals. Life renews. I don't have to make it happen. I can't make it happen. When I let myself fall out of relationship, I forget that we live in an interdependent web that heals us, transforms us, and makes us whole. I am called then to seek relationship with mystery, with the interdependent web of existence, and therefore, with life itself. What, then, can I believe about God? I believe that I participate in a larger life force that is accessible to reason and experience. This force relates me to life: to my neighbors, to other peoples, to the world of nature. Being so related saves me from my isolation, opens me to the suffering and the joy, the pain and the wonder of existence. I participate in existence to the fullest. In so doing, I am changed. I am awakened to life.

Sermon

Here's a story from my days of living on the Maine coast in the small town of Rockland that I still get a kick out of whenever I recall it: I was the minister of the UU Church in Rockland and had driven over to Augusta--some 45 miles inland--for a visit with the minister at the UU church there. As I was leaving his church and walking to my car I noticed a woman coming towards me with a dazed look on her face, as if she were wandering around without quite knowing where she was. As she got closer I realized I knew her. She and I served on the Board of Directors of our local mental health association. She lived in Camden, which is only a few miles up the coast from Rockland. Just as she was about to walk into me I said, "Hey Connie, what's up?" My words had the effect of snapping her out of a trance. She gave her head a shake and then practically yelled, "Steve, what are you doing here?!" I was so taken aback I actually began explaining why I'd come to Augusta: "Well, you see, I was at this church over here visiting the minister, and then I came out to my car, and saw you walking down the street..." This set her to laughing, and then she told me her tale of woe.

Connie was a very active Episcopalian layperson and had come to Augusta for a meeting a statewide committee of the Episcopal Church on which she served. As she was leaving town her car conked out on her. She had it towed to the dealership that serviced the make of her car and was told that it would take another day to get the part needed to fix it. Her husband was out of town so he couldn't drive over and get her; and the one bus that ran from Augusta to the coast had already left. She was stranded. Being completely at a loss as to what to do next, she just started wandering down the nearest street and almost literally bumped into me.

I acted pretty nonchalant about the whole thing: "Well, hey, hop in I'll give you a ride over to Camden. I'm just leaving town myself." She, on the other hand, went practically nuts over her stroke of good fortune: "I can't believe this is happening! I had no idea how I was going to get home and you just showed up here out of nowhere!" Well, I hadn't just shown up "out of nowhere", but I could see how it did look that way to her. I was actually there for some perfectly good reasons of my own. But as far as she was concerned I was party to a divine miracle; so much so that as we were driving out of town she exclaimed, "Steve, I am finally convinced. There really is a God!" This caused me to laugh so hard that I nearly wrecked my car (which certainly would have taken the edge of this alleged "miracle" we had going). When I gained control of myself, and my car, I could only say to her: "Connie, this is as rich as its gets. You are a good, committed Episcopalian. And yet its taken a chance meeting with a Unitarian Universalist minister, no less, to convince you of the existence of God!"

My stranded friend knew enough about Unitarian Universalism to catch the humor, and the irony, of my remark and we both had a good laugh over it. But she still remained as convinced as ever that some Greater Power had been at work in putting us both on the same street at the same time, and thereby delivering her from her stranded condition. Since she was so full of gratitude towards both me and the Almighty I figured it was neither the time nor the place for a discussion on whether or not there is such a thing as a Supreme Being who can deliberately intervene in human events. So I let it go and we had a good ride.

I save such discussions for my pulpit instead. My sermons this fall, as I reflect on them, have been very topical and current event oriented: Things like impeachment issues, the proper role of religion in a free society, how best to deal with environmental concerns, the importance of honoring veterans, and other such matters as these. Maybe, I thought, its time to change the pace and do something different... like talk about God. This is, after all, a house of worship where a congregation gathers each week; and generally in such a setting one would assume that talk and worship of God is ....well, assumed.

But then there are these congregations of folk who call themselves Unitarian Universalists; and they say they're a religious community... but they don't believe in God. Or so goes the conventional wisdom. Conventional wisdom, however, isn't always altogether wise, or even correct. But I have encountered the phrase, quite often the form of a question, enough times of "You people really don't believe in God, do you?" to know that such is a fairly common perception. So, as I say, in a change of pace from the sermon rhythm I've been in over the fall, I'd like to address this perception today. I don't want to do something as dry as simply "address a perception", however; I hope to speak to this topic from as personal a perspective as I can offer as well.

Like most generalities, the assertion that UUs don't believe in God does contain some degree of accuracy. Being an atheist is a perfectly acceptable theological--or non-theological, if you prefer--option for a Unitarian Universalist. If atheism means that one intellectually rejects the idea that there is a Supreme Being who exists independently of the natural world and universe; and who can purposefully intervene in the workings of the natural world and universe, then I would have to claim the atheist label for myself. But its not a label I'm altogether comfortable in claiming. For me to call myself an atheist is a little like wearing a shoe that's about a half size too small. It may seem to fit at first, and it may look right on me, and I can walk around in it OK; but it feels just a bit too restrictive when it comes to how I respond to life, and how I walk through life. I'll pick up on this line of thought a little bit later.

In describing the theological landscape of contemporary Unitarian Universalism--to the extent that such is possible--it is more correct to say that we UUs do not have a single, commonly held, doctrine of God to which we each and all are expected to adhere, than it is to say that we have no belief in someone or something called "God" at all. I do observe that God language has become more common within our movement over the past 10 years or so than it had been in the couple of decades preceding, which I happen to think is healthy. It reflects well upon our third UU principle which calls for the "acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations." But when Unitarian Universalists speak of God, as some--but not all--do, it is not based any one particular, or common, understanding of what the term means. Let's approach this by way of a pretty basic question: Why do human beings believe in God, as most human beings, in one way or another, do? I believe that a religious consciousness began at the same point in the human evolutionary process as when we developed the human capacity for self-transcendence and self-reflection. These, in fact, are the traits that make us human beings to begin with. It was at this point that we began asking such questions as: Who am I? Who are we? Where are We? Why are we here? Why do we have to die? How should we live? and, above all, Who's finally in charge of all this? It was in pursuing questions such as these, I feel, that belief in God, or gods or goddesses or higher beings and powers emerged. These questions are no less real to us right now than they were to our earliest human ancestors. We still pursue them; we still look beyond ourselves for whatever answers to them there may be.

Much of what is believed about God--or any kind of Deity--stems from our awareness that our lives are in our hands only up to a point; and that there comes a point where our power to shape our lives and destinies leaves off and other powers and forces take over. Even the most convinced atheist, I think, would agree with that. He or she would not acknowledge that those forces and powers have anything to do with a Deity who can act in any purposeful way, however. A lot of what is believed about God stems from the idea, belief, or affirmation that there is something or someone that sustains and delivers us beyond our human abilities--as strong and able as they may well be--to sustain and deliver ourselves. This is what I think my friend Connie was experiencing in the incident I described. She didn't know where to turn or what to do, and a way out of her dilemma was provided from seemingly out of nowhere. "Steve, there really is a God!" does indeed describe how she experienced the whole incident.

For Connie, the workings of her God did take place within the workings of the natural world. There was nothing supernatural about my being where I was when she came wandering down the street. An angel did not miraculously swoop down and carry her over to Camden, after all. I don't know if her belief in God includes the possibility of such activity. My guess, based on what I knew of her, is that it does not. But for many people the belief in a God who can work miracles of deliverance is strong.

A little over three years ago Time magazine carried a cover story with the title "Can We Still Believe in Miracles?" It reported that according to a reliable poll they'd conducted 69 percent of Americans say they believe in miracles. But I didn't find that figure to be particularly helpful since the writers did not specify how many of that 69 percent believed miracles to be of the supernatural type and how many found the "miraculous", as it were, contained within the natural world of our living and being. My friend regarded my being in the right place at the right time for her a miracle, but it did not have a supernatural dimension to it.

The Time feature also included the very moving story of a North Carolina family, the Jernigans, who witnessed their nine year old daughter inexplicably overcome what appeared to be, by every available medical diagnoses, a malignant brain tumor. The tumor first cost her the use of her right eye and appeared to be on its way to taking her life. As a parent myself, I can just barely begin to comprehend how devastating such a diagnosis would be. The Jernigans, like my friend Connie, were mainline Episcopalians. They were not a part of some kind of "faith healing" cult or sect, and they saw to it that their daughter was given the best medical treatment available. They, and their friends and fellow church members, also prayed for their daughter's recovery--and it happened. The tumor which had taken her eye began to recede and eventually disappeared. Those treating her could not account for what happened. At the time of the story the girl had reached age 13; assuming her life continues, she'd be 17 now.

The story closed with a quote from Elizabeth's father: "If you happen to see a young girl walking down the street with her eye permanently closed, please do not think some tragedy has befallen her... Instead, have cheerful thoughts ... knowing (that) our God is powerful, benevolent, and magnificent." The trial he and his family endured was thousands of times weightier than being stranded in Augusta, Maine; but their response to their outcome was similar: "Our God is benevolent and magnificent."

I can only be moved by such a story. If I knew this family I would certainly rejoice with them at their daughter's recovery. How could anyone do otherwise? And were I to find myself in the same situation as the Jernigans had been, who's to say I would have acted any differently than they did? I can only hope I never have to find out. I also do not expect the Jernigans to do the same kind of reflecting upon their experience as I, in time, found myself doing as I read their story. For in doing my own reflection the hard question I finally have to ask is, "Can I, and do I want to, believe in a God who can deliberately reverse the workings of a brain tumor?" The answer I'm finally forced to give is no. Whatever my own belief in God may involve it does not include a Deity who can choose to alter some life processes but not others. As heartwarming as the Jernigan's story is, I also have to acknowledge that if one posits a God who can reverse the workings of a disease, then this God also retains the power to cure some illnesses and let others take their course. I cannot accept the existence of such an arbitrary Deity.

Here's my story in this regard. Some of you have heard it before. When my father was a very healthy 69 year old man, and was finally getting to enjoy some leisure in his life with my mother after a life time of very hard physical labor in raising his family, he began having fainting spells. At first his doctors treated him for a minor stroke. What he really had was a very rare kind of brain tumor which, by the time it was detected, was beyond stopping. He died within a few months of his first fainting episode. His doctors were almost at as much of a loss to explain his cancer's sudden appearance and growth as Elizabeth Jernigan's doctors were at a loss to explain the sudden remission of her cancer. My father also strongly believed in a benevolent, powerful, and magnificent God.

Please understand what I'm trying to say. I am not being cynical. I am not pooh-poohing the Jernigan's faith and their belief in God. I am certainly not belittling the faith in God which my father had, and which sustained him well over the course of an often difficult life. I am only suggesting that we exercise some care in how, and to whom, we attribute both our unexplained and unexplainable blessings as well as our unexplained and unexplainable griefs and losses.

So where does all this leave me when it comes to believing in God--as a Unitarian Universalist and as a human being? As a human being I face those some questions that human beings have always faced: Who am I? Why am I here? How shall I live? What is the meaning of death? How do I respond my capacity for awe and mystery and wonder, and attend to this aspect of my life? As a Unitarian Universalist minister I consider it one of my roles to work with my congregation in providing a place where we can each and all come to terms--as best we can--with such questions. And personally, rather than try to come up with specific answers for these questions in the manner of taking some kind of cosmic quiz, I instead try to cultivate a sustaining sense of trust in life and in the ongoing flow of life, in the faith and in the hope that such an attitude of trust will enable me to deal with such questions as they present themselves to me.

Just this past week I came across an article by Bill Murray that spoke to this attitude very well. I do not mean the actor, Bill Murray, by the way--whose acting I greatly enjoy. I speak of the Rev. Bill Murray who was recently named the new President of our UU theological seminary in Chicago, the Meadville-Lombard Theological School. I spent part of my sabbatical there a year and a half ago. I want to read some of what he wrote in a publication called the "UU Voice." Its is reflective of what we heard from Bruce Marshall earlier. I'll read several passages from his article:

"I'm interested in what it really means to believe in God as opposed to what the Scholastics call assensus, (or) the intellectual assent to the existence of deity... (For me) faith in God means to have a basic sense of trust that life is good and worth living, that the context in which we live is nurturing, gracious, and trustworthy ... (this, rather than) affirming the existence of some supreme power or ground of being is what constitutes a life of faith. (Yes) by this definition faith is very difficult: To trust that life is good and nurturing and trustworthy despite all the evidence to the contrary, despite cancer and AIDS, despite the horrors of the Holocaust and the terrible mass murders (of whole populations) and the many other evidences of humankind's inhumanity. Because of human suffering and injustice and mortality, to affirm life is not always easy. Yet many of us experience life as positive most of the time. Its a gut feeling, a basic attitude, and "faith" if you will, not an intellectual matter. We can't prove it by reason or logic; we can only feel that it is so."
I connect strongly with those words. I also connect strongly with the idea that there is a transforming Life Spirit--both within us and beyond us--that can change and renew lives. This Spirit cannot change or alter events, but it can change people and how they respond to life's events. I do not generally call this Spirit "God", but I have no argument with those who do. I like what my friend Bruce Marshall has to say on the subject as well--that he participates in a larger life force that is accessible to reason and experience, and that this force relates him to all of life. Bruce makes that statement after asking of himself the question: "What, then, can I believe about God?"

Like Bruce, this is an attitude or stance I fall in and out of. I, too, lose faith and fail at times to keep faith with life. For one reason or another I fall out of relationship with life. There are times when evidences of our human capacity for inhumanity discourages the faith in life I try to maintain. It is in such moments that I then seek and find ways to restore that relationship. Perhaps that's what it means to live a life of faith; its to believe that you can return to life and to its wholeness again after times of feeling personally broken or separated from life's goodness and promise and possibilities. Such is the attitude I strive to maintain. Speaking only for myself now, I don't often feel the need to refer to this attitude or stance with God language. But if maintaining a stance of trust in life, and believing in a transforming Spirit of Life, is what it really means to believe in God then I can be counted among the believers, whether I use the language or not.

I think the question, then, of whether we UUs believe in God or not is largely a misplaced one. The more vital question for us is how do we keep faith with this life we've been given for however long we have it, especially at those times when it is diminished. How do we share it, and make it meaningful and worth living? If pursuing these questions is synonymous with the search for God, then this is a search we each and all continue to engage in as we share in our common life in this religious community.

Copyright © 1998 by the Unitarian-Universalist Church of Nashua NH. All rights reserved.