"Relative Religion"

Liturgical Materials for Sunday the 5^th of December, 1999

Mark Belletini, Minister First Unitarian Universalist Church of Columbus, Ohio

Opening Words [Next] [back to top]

We are here
at the great gate of winter
the sun slung low in the sky, the air chill
to worship, to lift up thoughtfulness and care
no matter what the season;
to once again be embraced in the trustworthy arms
of silence and song, word and sacred flame;
to once again accept the call
offered by our free tradition
to live lives of joy, justice, civility and peace.

The First Reading [Next] [back to top]
is a poem by the late American poet, William Stafford of Oregon, from his1962 collection "Travelling Through the Dark" The title of the poem is "A Ritual To Read to Each Other"

If you don't know the kind of person I am,
and I don't know the kind of person you are,
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break,
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each other's tails,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a vice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk;
though we could fool each other, we should consider,
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep:
the signals we give-yes or no, or maybe---
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

The Second Reading [Next] [back to top]
comes from an essay "Piety without Content" written in 1961 by film-maker and critic Susan Sontag.

My own view is that one cannot be religious "in general" any more than one can speak language "in general"; at any given moment one speaks English or French or Swahili, or Japanese, but not just "language."

Homily: [Next] [back to top]

When I was a child, we spoke English in my family, but not all the time.

For example, when my grandfather Umberto came up to me as a little boy and said "E Cumeleva ragazz'?" (Emilian dialect for Hey kiddo, how are ya doin'?) I was expected to say "ben', grazie" if I was feeling OK. But if some things were OK, and some, were, well, rotten, I was expected to say "mezimez." Mezimez translates literally "half and half" but in either English or Emilian I think you'll understand what it means if I say and do this: "Eh!"

(Shrug shoulders, roll hands outward till palms are up, let the pupils rise high in the eyes.)

Sermon: "Relative Religion"[Next] [back to top]

I think this exposure to two languages and constant translation in my household of origin affected me greatly, and to this day I am completely fascinated by the difficulty of translating from one language into another.

Any professional translator can tell you that translating from language to language is not only difficult, but sometimes downright treacherous. One language might not even have a concept that is significant in another language. For example, the Lakota or Sioux language has no "swear words" or "curse words" in it. Not one. They don't understand the concept of cursing.

And both the Misketo language of Nicaragua, and the Inuit, or Eskimo language, have no specific words for "forgiveness." The closest thing they offer are the following respective phrases, which I find very compelling:

Misketo: "Taking someone else's fault out of our hearts." and Innuit: "Not being able to think about it anymore."

One of the languages spoken in the Ivory Coast has no word for "joy." They must translate it...and I think this is quite marvelous... as "song of the body." The Mexicans who speak the Native language Cuihatec have no word for "adoration" in their religion, but can only speak of "wagging their tail before God."

These wonderful examples of "something that gets lost in the translation" are a complete delight to me, especially when I remember how many hundreds of languages there are on this earth, and how much possibility for misunderstanding there is.

Still, I have to also note that there are far less languages now than existed 30 years ago. The "big" languages, namely English, Chinese, Spanish, Portuguese, German, French, Indonesian and Arabic, have become so international due to the electronic media, that many of the smaller languages…Native American languages or Indonesian tribal tongues... have just disappeared.

As there are many languages in the world, so there are also many religions: Buddhism, Shinto, Islam, Judaism, Jainism, Yoruba, Pigmy and other African religious traditions, Sikhism, various forms of Christianity ranging from the ancient Eastern Orthodoxies of Greece and Asia Minor to the very new Harrist Church of the Ivory Coast, Taoism, the various Hindu frameworks including modernist, non-theistic groups like Radhosoani, and a great variety of Native American and Canadian religions.

As with languages, there are clearly far too many religions in this world to name in detail.

But I think that in most ways, as Susan Sontag reminds us in the second reading, human religions are like human languages more than they resemble anything else.

Just as no one speaks "grammar," or "linguistics," but only real languages with particular grammar and culture, like French or German, so no one can claim to be religious "in general." We Unitarian Universalists may think of ourselves as generalists some time, but that would be a mistake. Better that we compare ourselves as a religion to the English language, which, as the world's most eclectic tongue, borrows and recasts words from dozens of other languages in the world. Our Unitarian Universalist religion is eclectic, too. We borrow ideas from other religions, like English borrows words from other languages. But despite our eclectic vocabulary, our simple spiritual grammar is clear from our heritage…we join our ancestors in approaching the world with reason, openness, critical thought, loving-kindness, an inclusive spirit and an unfettered approach. These approaches mark us as speaking a very particular spiritual language. True, like other religions, we are also recognized by how we set aside certain days and times, use rituals, tell stories, preach sermons, sing songs and tell our unique history. But our basic grammar, I think, is quite distinct.

But though we are distinct, we are not completely unique. Our particular religion shares a very similar role with other particular religious traditions. You see, as far as I am concerned, religions are the "spiritual languages" that human beings speak to ask and answer very similar questions like: "Why is there a universe when it would have been easier to have nothing at all?"

Religion is a language that people use to ask and answer: "Why is my life so hard, so difficult, when other people sometimes seem to live easier lives? Am I fooling myself or is that true?"

Religion is a language that people use to ask and answer: "Why do we, or our pets, or our grandparents live only to have to die one day?"

Religion is a language which people use to ask and answer: "What does it mean to be good? Why are some people mean to each other? Why do I feel sad sometimes for no reason? Why am I afraid for no reason? Why does my loneliness feel so deep sometimes?"

Religion is a language which people use to ask and answer: "Who and what is really important in my life? Who or what is there when everything falls apart? Who loves me for who I am? Whom do I love? Why? What can I trust? How do I know what is true or false about the human heart?"

Am I saying all religion is relative, and basically all the same. Hardly. But I am saying that despite their very real and important differences, they do share some common concerns.

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Now, as I said earlier, religion and language share tremendous parallels.

Just as some languages have perished off the earth, so have some religions. Manichaeism, founded only a few centuries after Jesus, once claimed millions of adherents, and influenced the world from Africa to China, but now, who remembers anything about it except arcane scholars?

Maybe one day what happened to Manichaeism will happen to most modern day religions.

Maybe in a thousand years, no one will remember that there was a large group of people called The Christians who held an ancient builder from Galilee to be more than a human being, and who revered a Book about him as having final authority.

But why speculate? Who dares to make such idle predictions about the future? I do know that other folks who have predicted the eventual extinction of Christendom have had to eat a lot of crow over the years.

But if the future is uncertain, the present moment is solid as rock. There are many people who call themselves Christians alive today, far more, by many, many millions than any number who call themselves Unitarian Universalists, or Jews or Jains or Hindus or Atheists or even Buddhists.

Christianity is not monolithic, even though many modern liberals and conservatives both use the word Christian as if it has a very clear definition. This is, to coin a phrase, "baloney." Christendom is a very large religion with many sub-cultures that are drastically different. It resembles the idea of dialects found in the great languages.

My grandparents, for example, spoke a dialect of Italian, called Emilian, but they could not understand a word of anyone who spoke the Italian dialect prominant in Naples.

They both were speaking something that could be fairly called Italian, but they could not understand each other.

Religion, like language, has its "dialects" too. And of all the religious "languages" on earth, Christianity has the most mutually exclusive "dialects." A Catholic or Episcopalian Christian will talk of receiving Jesus Christ in the Holy Communion, a ceremonial meal. A Pentacostal Christian will talk of receiving Jesus Christ in an emotional experience called "Baptism of the Holy Spirit." And a Quaker Christian will talk of receiving Jesus as a kind of inner radiance, a silent, silent inner light. And some Christians don't speak of receiving anything at all, but rather, imitating the life of Jesus.

All these dialects of Christianity may be utterly distinct, but they all decidedly stem from the same tradition that grew 2000 years ago. They don't understand each other any better than my grandparents could understand Neopolitans. An Episcopalian can see a Pentacostal fainting away or dancing in church and wonders if they have lost their mind. A Pentacostal can look at an Episcopal service and think it is very cold and empty. And both of them can look upon the Society of Friends with fear, wondering how anyone could just sit in silence for a half an hour without just getting up and screaming.

Fortunately, most Christians I know embrace the difficulties of translation by engaging in ecumenical work. They admit the cultural differences are an obstacle to unity, but they are willing to face these problems graciously.

There are, however, some people who both call themselves Christian and who also turn from all ecumenical work.

But I have met some of them. They have assured me that that there is only One Way to be Christian, and that everyone else in the whole world is off the track. They tell me openly that everyone else speaks in "dialects" that they deem either too difficult, or not straightforward enough. They tell me that everyone in the world needs to speak their religious dialect and their religious language, and that all other religious languages, or religions if you will, have no real meaning.

Some day you may meet such a person. I suspect most of you have met many such persons over the years. You may even be related to them. They may be your children, your brothers or sisters. No matter what church they attend, they will often call themselves Born-Again Christians, or Evangelical Christians or Conservative Christians, but most often, just plain Christians. Perhaps you have a friend in school, or a co-worker who is a such a Christian.

Now, not all born-again Christians, mind you, will make such claims to you, but I assure you, some will.

They may come up to you, hand you a pamphlet, and speak to you in a language you do not understand. But they will try and tell you that it's very important for you to learn to speak this language.

Now of course, it doesn't hurt to learn new languages. World understanding would be sad indeed if ambassadors refused to learn each others languages.

But poet William Stafford cautions us about how difficult this can be, and gives us some rules about learning how to speak to each other which I find helpful. He knows we really don't know much about each other, and he worries that larger, invisible cultural patterns may control us because of that. Be very careful, he is reminding us.

He also worries that the hurts of our childhood might come "storming out" and make the conversation terrible.

He even thinks that we can fool each other, and have to try hard not to fall into that easy trap. He wants us to be awake… "it's important," he says, " for awake people to be awake," and it's very important, he reminds us, especially when the darkness around us is deep, to give each other clear signals…yes, or no, or maybe. We can't afford to get lost, to abandon each other, he says. We must stay together no matter what.

I think William Stafford is correct.

But sometimes, communication does not feel like a conversation to us...it seems and feels more like an attack.

Folks who come up to me and initiate conversations where they start off by telling me I am wrong can prove very difficult both because of their emotional content and because of their religious content.

And thus, I am convinced we have to find some way to enter such conversations in a way that keeps us close to the sound principles that the poet lifts up in the first reading, as well as our Unitarian Universalist principles.

I have a few suggestions to help folks figure some of this stuff out. They may seem very simple, but I am not so sure that complex would be very beneficial here.

So, for example, say one of your relatives comes up to you this Christmas and offers you this idea from their religious language: "We are all sinners."

You may not understand what that phrase means. But if you want, you might try and translate it this way in your religious language: "No one is perfect. And everyone has days that are mezimez, as my grandpa used to say, that is, half and half... half laughter and half tears. Sometimes life is tough. Sometimes we hurt each other terribly, even when we don't mean it. We have to live with the hurt we cause others, and the hurt others leave in our soul. Sometimes we don't understand why there is so much violence in the world, and sometimes the world hurts a lot."

That's not exactly what the person talking to you means by the word "sinners," but that's OK...remember that some languages do not have words that translate into other languages very accurately, and you have to learn to be satisfied "just being in the ball park."

However, next, this person may say to you: "You need to be saved by Jesus Christ." That is a hard one to translate, but I think you could say that we Unitarian Universalists often say something very much like the old book of Mishle, or Proverbs, says: "When the day of difficulty comes, we are saved not by what we own, but by being just." What does it mean to live a just life? It means living with fairness and consideration for others, always trying to tell the truth kindly, and refusing to think that what we own makes us more important than people who have nothing.

Then you could tell this person that we Unitarian Universalists do not usually call Jesus "Special," (which is, by the way, a very good English translation of the Greek word "Christ.") We tend to say, when we speak of him at all, that he was an ordinary human being. We think some of the stories told about him reflect very well the idea of "a just life." But you might go on to say, "He is dead now, and we are alive, and we are the ones who have to live just lives, not him. His death was sad, I'm sure he must have been a pretty neat guy, but neither his life nor his hard death changes our lives for the better, or saves us...we have to do that for ourselves."

But after you have said this, maybe this person will tell you that if you do not start to speak like they do, and talk about Christ and sinners and being saved, then you will one day burn in a great fire which they call Hell. You will be hurt there, and be lonely, and be sad forever. The Bible says this, they will tell you, and they will tell you the Bible is true, every word of it, in the way that 2+2=4 is true.

Fortunately, we have nothing in our religious language that translates such words, just as the Sioux language has no swear words in it.

There is no way in our Unitarian Universalist language, no matter what dialect we speak…eclectic, humanist, mystical, nature-centered, or Jewish/Christian centered... to promise our friends and relatives future torture and misery. We do not tell people who disagree with us that they will suffer terrible pain forever. And we do not accept as true anything we read in a book, even a holy book, if it is mean or cruel. Our religious ancestors proved to my satisfaction that the Bible really says nothing about a place of "everlasting torture" anyway. So there is no way that you can be a translator in this case.

But it's hard, I know. When a friend or a relative comes up to you and starts to talk in a strange language that promises you torture unless you do as they say and come to their church, it's hard to figure out what to do or say. All of a sudden, your brain might freeze, or your clever ideas and words just fizzle in your mouth. You forget everything you ever wanted to say if you had this chance. You may even be angry that you have to deal with this at all, and sometimes, as you know, anger makes you forget things too, especially your favorite clear, simple and kind words.

Don't worry. Everyone forget things. Old people. Young people. It's not an embarrassment, just a fact of life.

But when someone you care about comes up to you and says "You will burn in fire if you do not talk as I talk, do as I do, go where I go, believe as I believe," you will experience a very intense kind of forgetfulness indeed, and you may lose hope that you can still remember how to be kind and gracious and fair.

So let me suggest a few things that might help you remember how to be kind and gracious and fair when someone you are related to, or work with, comes up to you and tries to convert you to their beliefs.

First, think of something warm. That's right. When you are having trouble remembering what to say when someone threatens you with hell, think of something that is warm... you know, a cup of cocoa and a piece of warm apple pie you share with a friend, or someone who was there for you when you felt everyone was gone, or someone who makes you feel all good and cozy on the inside. Then you'll remember that both you and the person who is trying to change you have probably both had at least some of these experiences in your lives.

When you remember that, you will also remember that the person who is talking to you is just that, a person, not a monster. They undoubtedly think that they are doing you a favor by trying to convert you, and that they are having this conversation with you out of something that they feel is love, even if it doesn't exactly feel that way to you.

But if you just know that it's not two "religions" talking, but two human persons talking, you will begin to remember what you need to say.

Second, think of something from long ago. When you are having trouble remembering what to say when someone tells you that you will suffer in hell, think of something that happened long ago. Think of all the battles in history, all the wars, all the persecutions, and how they started from people of radically different politics, religion, class or ethnic identity solving their differences by violence and rage. Think about how all of their violence and rage accomplished nothing at all, except to hurt or kill people. Think of how, in the whole history of the human race, no one was ever really converted by force or fire or threat. And when you think about these things, then you will suddenly remember that being furiously angry will accomplish nothing. And when you remember that, you may remember what else you might say.

Third, think of something that makes you cry. When you are having trouble remembering what to say when someone holds hellfire above your head, think of all the times in your life when you have cried or have seen someone else cry. Sometimes people cry when someone dies, and they miss that person. Sometimes they cry when they feel afraid or alone. Sometimes they cry when they feel like their life is breaking apart and that no one is there for them. Sometimes they cry when they are in pain of body or heart, and they long above all else for a jolt of amazing grace to lift them out of their misery.

When you think about why people cry, maybe you can come to remember that the person who trying to convert you has known tears. Maybe he or she has cried so much, lost so much or is so afraid, that all they can think of trying to do is to make other people like them, so they will not feel so alone. When you remember that every human being cries at times, and for good reason, you may begin to remember what to say when someone who is a human being, a human being who probably cries... mentions hell to you.

Fourth, try to think of all the things that really make you laugh.

You laugh at jokes, at funny words, at funny faces like Yosemite Sam in a Bugs Bunny cartoon turning purple with frustration. Or you laugh at some clown who trips on a banana peel and falls down the stairs with funny sounds, or even at the face of someone right across from you being caught by surprise. When you think of what is really funny, then maybe you will begin to remember how to respond to someone who preaches hell to you. You know that they are very serious. You know that this is not a joke, or a cartoon. You know that laughing at them or snickering at them is not going to help the situation, and it will certainly not get them to change their minds. It will only make you feel like you are better than they are, or smarter than they are; and then any possibility of a future relationship might be destroyed...not by them, but by you. Think of what makes you really laugh...and then you may remember what to say when someone wants you to be saved from hell.

Fifth, think of something that is precious as gold. Yourself, for example. You are precious as gold. I am precious as gold. Human beings are precious and worthy and valuable. And as all of our Unitarian Universalist religious ancestors testified so clearly, no one can be allowed to take away that precious worth, and say that babies or children or adults are no good simply because they are.

Think about what is precious, and you may begin to remember what you might say to the person who worries that you are not worthy of anything but hellfire.

When you think about what is warm, what happened long ago, what makes you cry, what makes you laugh, and what is as precious as gold, maybe, just maybe, when you find yourself speechless before a friend trying to convert you to their version of Christianity, your memory will come back, and you might remember to say something like this:

"I have heard you say that you are worried about my future after I die. I am not sure I can help you not to worry...since you suggest that you will only stop worrying about me if I do things I do not want to do. But I think it's important for you to know that I am not worried about my future.

I do not want to engage in any debate with you, since you believe the Bible to be true in a certain way, and I don't believe that, and so it would be like someone who could only speak Turkish arguing with someone who could only speak French...they would not get very far, and both would end up just frustrated. If my beliefs change, I will tell you right away. But I do not want to engage in a discussion right now that will only frustrate the both of us.

However, it's also important that I say this to you…I do not want to, and will not, listen to any more of your warnings about the hell that you fear will claim me and all those I love. Even though I care about you, I want to assure you that such continued talk will do two things...1. it will actually drive me far away from your God and your religion, and 2. if it continues, it will not permit us to be in the same room with each other, and I for one don't want that to happen, because we share blood, memories and relationship. I know your church teaches that you must talk to me like this. I know that you are most happy with your church, and for that, at least, I am glad, but I will not discuss, listen to, or argue about, the word 'hell.'"

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Now that may sound very cool to some people, but I assure you that there is as much careful and caring love in those words as there is in a whole pile of holiday letters. Despite the very real tokens of love exchanged around holiday time, love is not always so light and cozy and lacy. Sometimes love asks us not so much to feel mushy or romantic as to be glad of our own strength and clarity.

In the early years of my ministry, I received phone calls every week from "born-again" or "conservative" Christians assuring me that my atheist grandfather was burning in hell right now, and that I would too.

They told me I was ministering in a bad religion, and that they wanted to save me. I used to get mad a lot, say terrible things, argue with them, yell and scream, and say many things that if I was speaking Lakota or Sioux I would not have been able to say. They kept on calling.

But when I went through the exercises I put us all through this morning, I remembered better things to say. And since I started to use the humane, reasonable loving approach asked of us by our religious tradition, all the calls stopped coming. I have had not one such conversion call in the last 12 years. And I have had many pleasant and sweet conversations.

Of course, most Christians do not engage in the conversion tactics I described. No priest or minister I know talks that way, nor any of my liberal Mennonite, Lutheran, Catholic, Presbyterian or United Church friends. But in each of our lives, young or old, we will probably one day have such an encounter, and I for one am glad that our religious tradition offers us such rich resources to inform our response.

When the Chinese wish someone who is about to go on a journey "bon voyage" they say some words in Chinese I will not endeavor to pronounce, because I don't think I would get the tones right. But what they say translates as this amazing sentence: "simple road, tranquil, peaceful." In the journey of our lives through this holiday season and all the way to the next, that is what I wish for us all...a simple, clear road before us, tranquility, and peace.

Advent Prayer: [back to top]

People look east, past the abandoned steel mills
of Pennsylvania,
past the New Jersey coast grey with Atlantic storms,
past the great dark waves of the ocean itself.
Look east, past the Azores and Gibralter,
the orange groves of Siracusa,
and the grave of Kazantzakis in Heraklion.
Look east, to the land of our most ancient roots,
a land of goddesses and gods,
of temples and huts, courts and shepherds,
and there let your holiday heart rest a moment.
Forget the goddesses and gods for a moment,
forget the temples and courts,
and see for a time an ordinary person,
a girl of 14 pregnant and blamed.
Feel the fear, the sadness, the worry,
and then remember that something frail and red
and screaming and hungry came through
all that fear, sadness and worry and
brought new life, new possibility to a world
not terribly different at heart to the world we now know.
See for a time the humaneness of the whole story,
the simplicity of it, the reality of it,
and take it in.
Let go of the angels, the shepherds, the astrologers,
let go of the tales and romance,
and see for a time yourself in the mirror of that ancient
reality.
What in you is afraid? What in you worries and is sad?
What is inside you that can come forth
in this season or any season and shout new life!
New life!
A fresh start! An advent of an adventure of the spirit.
An opportunity for deeper tenderness and love.

Come back home now.
Leave the east when you are through there
and come home.
Come and sing a song with me
that weds our roots to our present celebration,
and open yourself to the possibility of a star
shining over our heads right now,
like a rose in the wintertime.

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