A month of "home." In our sermons this month, we've talked about home as an experience rather than a place; as a rock; and even as a Winnebago! Today we end the sermon series by thinking about our church home as a Church of Changing Seats.
I have a few quotes and comments to explain what I mean by this, but I'm thinking it's even better to act it out.
[At this point, everyone in the congregation was asked to stand and move to a different seat.]
Take a moment to look around. Now, just one question: How many of you can see something you couldn't from where you were sitting before?
Thank you. Exercise over.
Notice some important things about what we just did, about this kind of church we just acted out:
It wasn't easy.
It wasn't comfortable.
It certainly wasn't orderly, rather the opposite - pretty darn messy and impossible to control.
It wasn't a feel good effort to meet you and celebrate you just as you are.
It didn't affirm your right and need to sit in the seat that fits you best.
It wasn't about offering you complete freedom to sit wherever you want.
And maybe the most important thing of all to notice - it wasn't about tolerance.
Notice that you weren't asked to accept that people are different than you. You weren't asked to accept that some people actually like to sit in the front row and this doesn't make them weird. You weren't even asked to celebrate the diversity of seating found here or to give thanks for the fact that there are so many perspectives to choose from. No, the unequivocal and straightforward message was, "You need to pick another seat!" And the reason you were told to pick another seat was not so you could have empathy with or greater tolerance for those who usually sit there, but to help you realize - and even confess (you didn't notice that I got a confession out of you did you?!) - that your precious and favored perspective is limited and leaves out a lot. Or to put it more bluntly, the message was "Your precious, comfortable and personally meaningful perspective simply isn't good enough!"
Now, why phrase it that way? We just had a bit of fun moving all around, with laughter and levity. So why make it sound so confrontational?
Well, the simple answer is: honest advertising. For those who are here and for those who will come, we need to make it clear that a Church of Changing Seats ultimately isn't a fun place, or a comfortable place, or a place that lets you pick any old seat you want. Ultimately, a Church of Changing Seats is a very dangerous place, a beautifully dangerous place, that - if you choose to call it home - will doubtless get you into some amazing trouble with the world and also with yourself.
Let's start with the world.
I don't think it's a great revelation to say we live in a culture that loves its sense of certainty. Certain of our goodness, we have created pledges, money and courthouse walls which declare us blessed by and even an extension of the great divine itself. Certain of our brilliance and far-sightedness, we've developed an official military policy of "stay the course and see it through" rather than a more humble policy of "step back and routinely re-assess." Certain of our perfection, we have adopted an unofficial national motto of "love it or leave it." Don't even talk to us about the need for growth or alteration. Jennifer Michael Hecht, professor and author of a new book on the history of doubt, shows how in the past 60 years our country has done a complete reversal on the issue of second thoughts. Whereas skeptics and dissenters were once considered heroes and the lifeblood of progress, now we have a culture in which doubt is seen as debilitating and questioners are considered threatening at best and treasonous at worst.
And so the last thing our culture of certainty has room for or interest in is a Church of Changing Seats. Trouble and confrontation are inevitable. Cultures of certainty - and citizens of certainty - will have very little tolerance for someone telling them that they can't see, that their perspective, no matter how helpful, is inescapably limited and thus ultimately not good enough.
But of course this perspective is exactly what our culture and our world need most right now. That's why I described our task as "beautiful danger" and "amazing trouble." It is amazing to know that you have a message that will make a difference, if you share it. It is amazing and beautiful and a privilege to know that you are relevant and needed. And I don't say that to make us Unitarian Universalists feel superior, but simply to remind us that we - by nature of our unique commitments - have some very important work to do.
That work begins, I think, with getting rid of the idea that terrorism is the world's greatest threat. What Unitarian Universalists are in a unique position to do - what a Church of Changing seats is in a unique position to do - is to help the world see that as terrible and destructive as the phenomenon of terrorism is, the even greater threat to our world is a pandemic of impoverished sight, a terrible scourge of pervasive tunnel vision.
One of the best examples of this comes from the London bombings last summer. After the bombings, experts and leaders both in Britain and here were asked, "What do we need to do to protect ourselves and prevent this from happening again?" And the answer, the only answer, that both our leaders and London's leaders could come up with was, "Keep your eyes open for unattended packages, suspicious looking people and the exit doors in case of an emergency."
And then everyone said OK. That was it. Done deal. Everyone swallowed it whole. Accepted it as wise advice. No follow up. No collective, "OK sure, but what else?!" No "Are you sure that's all we have to do?!" Two powerful and sophisticated cultures completely satisfied with the idea that the reach and scope of our looking need extend no farther than the suitcases and dark skinned Middle-Eastern men ten feet to our left. Forget about looking into the complexity of it all; the simple idea that they hate our freedom seems good enough. Forget about looking backward into history; this is a metaphysical problem arising from perverted religions and evil hearts, so it couldn't possibly have anything to do with U.S. involvement and policy in the Middle East for the past 40 years. Forget about looking ahead and thinking through the consequences of our unilateral reaction. Forget about looking sideways at poverty and hopelessness. Forget about looking down and thinking about how humility might help. And most importantly, forget about looking at ourselves! No, keep our gaze, blame and guns on them, them, them.
Again friends, as horrifying and destructive as terrorism is, as devastating and traumatic as subway bombings are, this small, limited, self-satisfied sense of sight is much scarier. And by saying this, I hope it is clear this morning that this isn't a cloaked criticism of President Bush. I hope it is clear that it's not so much the presence of any particular policy or political party that scares me, as much as it is the pervasive absence of any interest in or call for people to step outside of their comfortable certainties and consider the possibility that they might not be able to grasp the truth all on their own. What seems to be missing these days, both in the political world and the religious world, is a recognition that if you lack the ability to step outside your precious perspective, what you've got is not a perspective but a prison.
This is what the existentialist philosopher Jean Paul Sartre was getting at when he said "To understand is to change and to go beyond oneself." It is also what the psychologist Carl Jung tried to teach us when he said, "The serious problems in life are never fully solved. And if they should appear to be, it is a sure sign that something has been lost." And is it what my colleague, UU minister and great believer in a Church of Changing Seats, David Blanchard articulated so well when he said,
The answers can't be found if you ask only men. They can't be found if you ask only Christians. They can't be found if you ask only gays, or Democrats or atheists or professors or even ministers. And they certainly can't be found if you ask just yourself. The answers come from listening to people of great diversity and weaving their small truths into a larger tapestry of meaning.
All of which means that ultimately, a Church of Changing Seats does not simply call us to widen our vision or increase our commitment to listening, it also - and maybe this is its greatest gift to human progress - calls us to take on an entirely new understanding of courage, one that helps us see that it often takes more bravery to let go than hold on, more daring to open yourself to doubt than hold it at bay, more guts to admit "I may be wrong" and then let yourself be changed.
And this brings us to that second sense in which a Church of Changing Seats is dangerous: it doesn't just force us into conflict with the world; it also forces us into conflict with ourselves. To make this church our home is to accept, risk and pretty much be sure that we will go through the pain of doubt and change. In some religious communities the weekly question you're asked is, "Do you believe?" That's not the question we find here. Rather the question that confronts us weekly in worship, small groups, social justice forums and even at coffee hour as we engage with folks quite different from ourselves is not "Do you believe?" but "Are you sure?"
Are you sure George Bush is wrong about everything?
Are you sure theism is irrational and silly? Or atheism immoral and immature?
Are you sure giving 1% of your income away is good enough? Or even 5%?
Are you sure people need to hear your wisdom? Or is listening what you really need to do?
Are you sure your commitment to social justice is enough? Or is it possible that you too have been bought off by the comfort of privilege?
Are you sure your social activism is motivated by all the right reasons?
Are you sure Christianity has nothing to offer?
Are you sure that words like evangelism, prayer and God have no place in your spiritual life? Or why are you so sure they do?
Are you sure the sky is falling? Have you really studied all the aspects of global warming as well as you should? Do you keep studying to avoid the pain of altering your lifestyle?
Are you sure you are kind enough? Humble enough? Honest enough? Bold enough? Happy enough?
Are you sure the problem is them, not you?
These are hard questions. Uncomfortable questions. And yet also holy questions, right?
Deep in our bones we know that certainty is not an accomplishment, but an illusion - a sign, not that one has discovered a precious treasure, but that one has fallen into a dark pit and is now stuck and largely blind. And we also know that freedom from this lonely pit comes only from the willingness to ask "Am I sure?" and the courage to genuinely change seats. None of us can drum up that kind of courage all on our own. So we ask this place and these people all around us to love us by shaking us up, to support us by knocking us off center, to help us become more whole by forcing us to grow - by making sure that here we will always encounter that wonderfully painful and terrifically dangerous adventure of changing seats. One of the many things that makes this our home.
And so in that spirit, I say, "Welcome Home Friends" and I joyfully ask, "Which of your certainties most needs shaking?"
Amen.
return to main page