Phil's Little Blog on the Prairie

The current issue of uuworld.org is featuring a wonderful essay by the Rev. Barbara Wells ten Hove about what it feels like to be raised a Unitarian Universalist. It's definitely worth checking out. And it reminds me of something I found in Christian Smith's Soul Searching: The Religious and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers. In a chapter on the lack of religious commitment by Catholic youths, Smith says that "the best general rule of thumb for religious adults considering the possible faith outcomes of their youth is 'We'll get what we are.' Most American teens turn out religiously to look a lot like their parents...." Which means if we're ever going to become the kind of religious organization that Barbara Wells ten Hove and I (and many of you, I hope) would like so see, one where, as Wells ten Hove puts it, "when a group of UUs is asked to show how many were raised UU, more than half would lift up their hands in joy...," we're going to have to change who we are, that is, who we adults are.

The basic question is, do we feel at home in our tradition and our congregations, or do we see ourselves as seekers who are just passing through? I can't even begin to count the number of times someone has pointed to a transitory encounter (be it a few months or a few years) with Unitarian Universalism as a success story. The argument goes like this: Unitarian Universalism was there when this or that particular seeker needed a place to get his or her spiritual bearings. Because of us, he or she can now happily be a [insert religion here]. If that's what counts as a successful encounter with our tradition, then we are never going to be the kind of religion that retains a majority of its children and youth. I'm not saying that encounters like that aren't helpful, but then shouldn't be our raison d'etre.

So, what are Unitarian Universalist congregations for? Right now I high on the notion of connected communities, places where people of all ages can share their life journeys in a nurturing and supportive environment (see my post of Laurel Amabile's "Here's to Being Strong Multi-Generational Congregations"). If we do it right, that is, if we acknowledge the importance of those communities in our lives and teach our children (and they are our children) that such communities have a positive value, then maybe we can be the kind of tradition that does encourage a majority of its children and youth to stay involved as adults.
|

I stumbled upon this rather interesting concept while reading Thandeka's essay "New Words for Life" in the collection A Language of Reverence from Meadville Lombard. In reference to what she calls "the pervasive, theological conundrum of liberal thelogy," Thandeka mentions Paul Tillich's "Protestant Principle." The conundrum is this:

When liberal religionists and theorists make reason and ideas a human foundation of religious faith, critique becomes the principle way this faith is explained.

And in a footnote, Thankeda explains Tillich's Principle:

Paul Tillich called this self-critical necessity of Protestant theology the "Protestant Principle," which he explained as the need to undercut "the absolute claim of any doctrinal expression" because of the ambiguity in any truth claim made by human beings.

I find this interesting because I think it explains a tendency Unitarian Univeralists exhibit when dealing with one another, a tendency to play what writing guru Peter Elbow called The Doubting Game. I believe that Unitarian Univeralists have taken the "Protestant Principle" to the extreme--call it the "UU Principle" (not to be confused with the UU Principles)--and it goes something like this:

Unitarian Universalists have the need to undercut ANY truth claim made by ANY individual about her or his personal beliefs because the process of believing another person's truth claim requires getting out of one's head and into one's body in order to fully appreciate why the other person may believe that such-and-such a thing is true, and we'd much rather stay in our heads, thank you very much.

Getting out of one's head and into one's body in order to understand why a person may believe something is true is what Peter Elbow calls The Believing Game, and it's rarely practiced among UUs. Perhaps the one place were we do play The Believing Game is in our Covenant Groups, which would explain why they're so popular. Convenant Group rules are set up so that people are required (YES--people can actually be required to do something in a UU setting) to suspend disbelief and really try to see life from another person's point of view. But I'm guessing that, in spite of their popularity, only a minority of UUs are actually involved in Covenant Groups right now, which means that most of our other interpersonal relationships are still covered by the rules of The Doubting Game, which says that as soon as I can find a single flaw in your line of reasoning, your entire truth claim is invalid. It's what academics do to make a living, and it's the defining characteristic of what George Lakoff calls "Liberal Strict-Father Intellectuals."

I bring this all up now because I honestly believe that this is the major flaw of our faith tradition. It keeps us from truly welcoming the other. It keeps us from truly investing our whole selves in our communities of faith. And it keeps us from developing the kind of warm and nurturing environments that are absolutely necessary for raising the kind of responsible, empathetic adults George Lakoff believes we progressives must start raising. So while we talk a good game about the free and responsible search for truth and meaning, we also hold our beliefs pretty close to our chests (which is why we define ourselves in hyphenations, you know, I'm a UU-Humanist, UU-Christian, UU-Pagan, or whatever). You don't tell me what to believe (or what you believe, for that matter), and I'll spare you the pain of knowing too much about me.

Unless we can start truly sharing who we are rathering that giving shorthand answers about what we think, we're never going to be the kind of religious community that is attractive to more than a minority of Americans, which is why our current growth strategies are destined to fail.
|

I'm leaving for a meeting of the Family Matters Task Force in Massachusetts this morning, but before I go, I thought I'd share this "Prayer for Families" that I plan on using for the closing of tonight's FMTF meeting. It's an adaptation of an adaptation I found in a print resource called Forming Ministries with Families: A Planning Guide for Congregations, from the folks at the Presbyterian Church USA's Family and Intergenerational Ministries.

We pray for families

Who watch the monkeys at the zoo,
Who work in the soup kitchen together,
Who have never been to a restaurant,
Who have a plot in the neighborhood garden,
Who never know what their next meal will be,
Who feel safe when the door is closed.

And we pray for those

Who have been separated by the horrors of war,
Who give hugs and kisses just because,
Who will never see each other grow up,
Who share one tub of popcorn,
Who do not have a place to call home,
Who share clothes and shoes.

We pray for families

Who share their hopes and dreams at the dinner table,
Who are not accepted as a family by those around them,
Who pray together,
Who play board games on family night,
Who model their lives after television characters,
Whose only visits occur in the hospital,
Who decorate Christmas cookies for shut-ins.

And we pray for those

Who will never know each other,
Who leave notes for each other on the bathroom mirror,
Who talk only in raised voices,
Who communicate with a raised fist,
Who bake birthday cakes,
Who are there for each other,
Who have never eaten a meal together.

We pray for families

Who sit together in worship,
Who find “family” a dirty word,
Who spend their Saturdays on the ballfield,
Who welcome a new addition by birth, marriage, adoption, or other means,
Who fall asleep to the sound of gunfire and sirens,
Who visit the doctor and dentist every year.

And we pray for families

Who mourn the death of one of their own,
Who enjoy s’mores by the campfire,
Who do not have anything of their own,
Who spend their lives looking for each other,
Who hold a funeral for the goldfish,
Who pray the others will be there when they awaken.

We pray for families

Who dance together,
And for those for whom doing anything together is dangerous.
For those who celebrate achievements and grieve disappointments,
And for those who live in a constant state of humiliation.
For those we see in photographs,
And for those who sit among us and with us.

For these, and for all the families, of all formations, who come to us seeking nurture and support, we pray. May they find in our congregations peace of mind, joy of heart, and love for one another. Amen

By Martha H. Miller PC(USA) (Format adapted from A Prayer for Children by Ina Hughes...although the final paragraph is from yours truly.)
|