Because we love this faith, which has done such good for us, we wish to share our faith with others. We wish to grow our own church membership, of course, but the motivation for growth must be deeper than simply wanting a bigger congregation. If we truly think our faith is the means toward better lives and a better world, is it wrong to hope that the whole world would be UU
We’ve been talking about the mission of the church, for the last several weeks.
Or perhaps we should say the missions of the church, because it’s my opinion that the church is here to do many things not just one thing.
The church is here to meet the perennial human need for regular connection with the transcendent through our programs of worship.
The church is here to meet the perennial human need for moral education for our children, for connection to a religious tradition and for learning new responses to the changing realities of our lives and the world beyond us, through our programs of religious education.
The church is here to meet the perennial human need for social interaction, for recreation, for friendship, for letting go, through our programs of fun and fellowship.
The church is here to meet the perennial human need for support through life’s challenges, and to give opportunities to fulfill our need to offer care and compassion to others, through our programs of pastoral care.
The church is here to meet the perennial human need of a society where every person is free to flourish, where our unique gifts are not buried under various forms of oppression, through our programs of social justice.
All of these programs answer the mission question, “What are we here to do?” “What is the church for?”
All of these programs are expressions of our faith. Because we are Unitarian Universalists, we reach for the transcendent through sermons and music and ritual. Because we are Unitarian Universalists we make good citizens of our children, we pass on the stories of our heritage, we equip ourselves at every age to face the shifting realities of the world. Because we are Unitarian Universalists, we have fun together, we enjoy each other’s company, we strengthen the bonds of fellowship. Because we are Unitarian Universalists, we care for one another. Because we are Unitarian Universalists, we work toward the liberation of all people to the benefit of all.
All of these programs move outward from what I believe is the core and primary mission of our faith: to create and sustain a community capable of supporting all these programs and responding to the needs of our members to live their faith following their own interests and abilities. In essence then, our core mission is not to do anything, but simply to be. To be, strong, and able, and flexible, and here, for those who want to be with us.
But is our mission only to be here, waiting? Or is part of our mission to be out there, inviting? To be out there for those who don’t know us? Who want this, but don’t know it exists? Is our mission to be here? Or to be everywhere people are?
Today, I want to conclude this series of sermons on mission by adding one last expression of our faith, the desire to share our faith with others, to encourage others to join our community, through our programs of membership.
I’ve shared with you that throughout this sermon series on mission, I’ve been choosing hymns and readings that sound like possible mission statements for the church.
Our call to worship this morning offers another example of a mission statement, this one by the Rev. David C. Pohl, who, in a long career, served about 20 years as a parish minister in Massachusetts, Ohio, and Canada, and then spent 20 years working for the UUA in the office of ministry, and then in retirement continued to serve on the UUA pension committee.
His take on a mission for a Unitarian Universalist community is this:
“To rediscover the wondrous gift of free religious community;
To renew our faith in the holiness, goodness, and beauty of life;
To reaffirm the way of the open mind and full heart;
To rekindle the flame of memory and hope; and
To reclaim the vision of an earth made fair, with all her people one.”
I like that Rev. Pohl begins with an affirmation of the centrality of free religious community as a support to everything else we do here. And I admire the aspiration of his vision, “an earth made faith, with all her people one.”
That line, by the way, appears in another place in our hymnal. Pohl borrowed it from the English poet, Clifford Bax, whose poem “Turn Back” is set to the tune called, Old 124th as our hymn number 120. Clifford Bax writes:
“Earth shall be fair, and all its people one;
nor till that hour shall God’s whole will be done.
Now, even now, once more from earth to sky,
peals forth in joy that old undaunted cry—
“Earth shall be fair, and all its people one.”
We didn’t sing that hymn this morning, but the hymn we did sing calls out a similar vision:
“Break not the circle of enabling love
where people grow, forgiven and forgiving,
break not that circle, make it wider still,
till it includes, embraces all the living.”
All people one
All the living
“nor till that hour shall God’s whole will be done.”
Is that our vision? I wonder how committed we are to that vision? And if committed, how confidant we are in the possibility we might achieve it?
“The earth made faith and all its people one.”
I usually write my sermons on Fridays at home. But this Friday, Jim and I had an appointment here in the valley, so I came in to church to write my sermon so he could pick me up after school and we could drive together to our appointment.
So, on Friday, I sat in my office and wrote my sermon.
And at some point in the mid-afternoon I got up from my desk to get a drink of water from the fountain. And there, laying on the fountain, was this little comic book. I recognized what it was immediately: a religious tract. Of course I picked it up and read it.
The title is, “It’s a Deal.”
The story begins with a happy family. Mom and dad. Dad is the pastor of a church. They have two sons. The older brother, James, is a prize. Smart, and handsome, athletic. Mom and dad burst with pride at the accomplishments of their elder son.
The younger brother, though, Denzel, is not so blessed. He’s failing at school, lousy at sports. Compared with his brother, he’s a loser, and he knows it, and he thinks his parents know it, too. Consumed with jealousy, Denzel wishes his brother were dead.
And then, in a drive-by shooting, James, the older brother is killed.
But life doesn’t get better for Denzel. Years pass. He’s still a failure at school. He’s still a failure at sports. On his own power, he can’t achieve what his brother could.
After getting cut from the basketball team, Denzel fumes to himself that he would do anything to be successful. He’d even sell his soul.
Suddenly the devil is at Denzel’s side. For 13 years, says the devil, I can make you successful beyond your dreams, and then I’ll collect my payment: your soul.
Denzel agrees.
Suddenly, on the basketball court, he can sink the most difficult shots. He starts earning straight As in every subject. He’s more popular even than his brother was. After high school he gets signed to the best professional team.
Years pass. Denzel is a superstar. He makes millions of dollars. He’s a sought-after spokesman for advertising. He’s rich and famous and adored. Of course he has no time for his parents. A reporter asks him if he’s ever going to get married and Denzel says he couldn’t marry any one woman because there would just be too many broken hearts. Everyone laughs. They know it’s true.
Twelve years and eleven months pass. Denzel is at the pinnacle of his fame and fortune. Then suddenly he falls ill. The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with him, but at the same time they tell him he’s only got days to live.
He enters the hospital. He’s dying. His parents come to see him. In the shadows, the devil laughs. It’s payment time.
Denzel dies.
But Denzel’s mother prays. She prays harder than she’s ever prayed. She prays that Jesus will bring back her son. Just for five more minutes, she prays. She’s so desperate not to lose her second son, and her faith is so strong, that her prayer is answered. Denzel is granted five more minutes of life.
He sits up in the hospital bed. His eyes are wide with terror. He’s had a vision. Denzel’s father notices an odor of sulfur in the room. Denzel has been to hell. He felt the flames. He saw the torment of the damned. He’s scared and shaken and suddenly humble.
Denzel’s father, the pastor, tells Denzel, “Quickly, son, turn your life over to Jesus! Jesus died to pay the price of your sins! He can save you if you accept him as your savior!”
Denzel smiles peacefully and tells his father, “I already have.”
Then he dies a second time. But now he goes to Heaven.
On the last page of the comic, the devil says, “Blast it! I lost Denzel.” But then, in the last panel, he turns to the reader and says, “But maybe you’d like to bargain with your soul.”
Now it isn’t my purpose to critique with the theology of this little story. But rather, I was struck by the intention of whomever it was that left the comic book at a Unitarian Universalist church.
Clearly this person, whoever it was, felt that this comic book had a saving message that needed to be shared. Clearly this person felt that people here were in danger. We were suffering. Or if we’re not suffering now, like Denzel in his fame and fortune, we would certainly be suffering later. We needed help.
Perhaps it’s easy to laugh, or be offended by the arrogance of the pamphlet-leaver taking pity on us. But one could also, more graciously, attribute a loving motivation: a sincere feeling that something important is at stake. Sadly, he regards the doomed people of our church. And if a little well-timed message of religious truth could save a soul, why not offer it?
The pamphlet-leaver has a vision that every soul is worth saving. The means to salvation, peace, joy, love, fulfillment, isn’t a secret to be held close by those lucky enough to already have it. Salvation is a gift available to everyone, all the living, all her people one.
Isn’t that our vision, too? Not the theology, but the vision that every soul is worth saving. “There are no other people’s children,” as the choir sang. And that we have something here, in our faith, that can help.
We Unitarian Universalists often say of ourselves that we’re no good at evangelism. We politely sit in our churches and hope that folks will find their way to us on their own. We don’t even pray about it. We just wait. And hope. And wait.
And some folks do find us, eventually. But what of the folks who don’t? What of the folks feeling those perennial human needs, of worship, religious education, pastoral care, social justice, fun and fellowship, who, not knowing we’re here, suffer?
Are we not the selfish ones, who have all this, but keep it to ourselves? Who having found, for ourselves, a religious community that serves our human needs, feel the work is done because now we’re here? If the goal of our faith, as we say in our sixth principle is “World Community with peace, liberty and justice for all” then we have more work to do. I don’t think hopeful waiting is enough.
Maybe, actually, the reason we don’t leave Unitarian Universalist religious tracts on park benches or on the folding table at a laundromat is that we feel there is something exclusive about being a Unitarian Universalism. Something privileged. A sense that they wouldn’t get it. That the people who really ought to be Unitarian Universalists will have the wherewithal to find us on their own, and so, if they don’t show up, they probably weren’t really worthy to be among us in the first place.
The old joke of Unitarian Universalism is that the Universalists think that God is too good to damn us, and the Unitarians think we’re too good to be damned.
But is our faith only for the already saved? Is Unitarian Universalism only for those sufficiently resourced to recognize their need, research us on the web and hunt down a local church? Or is Unitarian Universalism for everyone? Is Unitarian Universalism only for the James’, the elder sons so handsome and smart and skilled, or do we have something to offer the Denzel’s, too, and everyone inbetween?
“Break not the circle …till it includes, embraces all the living.”
I said I wouldn’t critique the theology of the comic book, but I do have to point out that Denzel, despite wishing his brother were dead and neglecting his parents, lives a pretty fabulous life for thirteen years, and although he sold his soul to the devil all he has to do is change his mind a few minutes before he dies and he gets to go to heaven anyway.
That doesn’t seem like a very healthy theology.
Our Unitarian Universalist salvation scheme is different. Forgive me for saying that I wish the whole world were Unitarian Universalist. I don’t mean that everyone has to come to our churches, or drop their Trinitarian beliefs, although I do wish they’d drop their belief in Hell.
I mean, I wish that everyone, worldwide, would follow the Unitarian Universalist salvation scheme, living by the principles of the worth and dignity of all people; justice, equity and compassion in human relations, acceptance of one another, encouragement to spiritual growth, a free and responsible search for truth and meaning, democracy, world community, peace, liberty and justice for all; and respect for the interdependent web of all existence.
You don’t have to be a UU to live that way, or join one of our churches, but we do offer something here that is helpful to leading lives of health and joy. Some can find that version of salvation on their own. But some find it here. You were that person, once upon a time.
So let’s do some soft evangelism. Tell folks you go to church. Tell them that it’s fun here, and inspiring. And you go home with something to think about. And we do good work, here. And people help each other. Invite them to check us out. I know you do. But keep doing it.
Sometimes our invitation will be met with a flat no, or a shrug, or a patronizing smile. Sometimes our evangelical message will be picked up by the wrong person, the way the comic book left on our drinking fountain was picked up by a person who considered the message and rejected it.
But sometimes, often enough to be worth it, you might save a soul.