Paradox - Theological Diversity and Ethical Unity

January 5, l964
Rochester

Sermon Series: The Free Church in the Changing World
V Ethics and Social Action
11. Paradox - Theological Diversity and Ethical Unity

There are two enduring passages from the scriptures of our religious heritage which compress into minimum statements the maximum liberality we claim for our faith. The first verse is from our Hebrew roots, words of the prophet Micah, (6-8):
"...and what doth the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God."

The second verse is found in the Christian gospel of Matthew, (8/21), "Not every one who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven."

There have been no better expressions of our belief that theological diversity is of far greater value than theological unity contained in creedal form. Theological diversity is valued higher than creedal unity because right conduct, not right belief, has first priority.

Micah proclaimed, what doth the Lord require but to do justice and to love kindness — or, as sometimes translated, to be "steadfast in love" and walk humbly with your God. The basic requirements are plainly ethical. In other words, my religious obligation to my neighbors is not to persuade them that their beliefs are wrong and to leave the Presbyterian Church or the conservative Jewish congregation and become members of this Church. Should any person of whatever background indicate interest in our Church, of course we should explain, invite welcome participation in the membership and program of the Church. A Church needing increased membership as we do should never forget that 85% of people new to our churches, country-wide, come because they have heard by word of mouth what kind of a religious institution we represent. But my prior obligation to my Presbyterian or Jewish, Catholic or secularist neighbors is to behave toward them in a manner consistent with the moral requirements of decency and fair play. This is an obligation that everyone of us should accept as basic.

Briefly I would speak of our theological diversity; at greater length I would have you think about the implications of ethical unity. There are many who feel that there is a contradiction in encouraging theological diversity, while advocating one point of view in issues of current importance. If one reads the letters to the editor in our "Register-Leader," there is occasionally a remonstrance arguing that in economic and politics, the so-called conservative, and so-called states' rightists fail to receive a forum for their views. There are protests even more vehement that resolutions passed by our General Assembly almost always reflect the ultra-liberal view, never a more conservative one.

Because my prediction is that denominational consciousness of particular issues, and actions planned to deal appropriately with specific issues, will increasingly be the prevailing attitude among the churches and fellowships of the Unitarian Universalist Association, it is only fair that as one who welcomes this trend, I should be willing to come to grips with what may seem to some to be a paradox — theological diversity and ethical unity.

We require assent to no theological qualifications for Unitarianism, Universalism. We assert as a virtue this opportunity to formulate in freedom one's own religious convictions. We seek truth, known and to be known. But this freedom from imposed dogma and creed does not imply that we consider religious affirmations trivial. Every General Assembly seems to include on the agenda resolutions which attempt to secure the consensus of the delegates on affirmations about God, Jesus or our relationship to the historic stream of Christianity. Because we hold freedom of belief sacred, such resolutions are defeated if they tend to formalize any statements of belief.

Although there was a time when issues between theists and humanists were debated bitterly, the acrimony has subsided, although discussion and debate about theological issues will continue as long as we have any thoughtful vitality. We find zest in our theological diversity, accept it as an acknowledgment of the value of all persons among us and the beliefs they are willing to expose and express for support or criticism.

Theologically, we stand with Micah, "walk humbly with your God." Your God may be a Heavenly Father; your God may be the mysterious Life-Force obvious in the universe; your God may be the "process of ideals becoming real"; your God may be the mature spirit of man, emerging from instinct to conscious, cooperative morality; your God may be undefined in words but real in your silent prayers. Our theological diversity places no limitation on how you shall visualize or articulate your idea of God; we hope only, with Micah, that you will walk humbly with your God. We find theological diversity to be part of our growth in religious wisdom as the search for truth is pursued and old ideas modified by discovery, discussion and the fine sifting of life experience.

But when we turn to applying religious principles to issues in today's society, there are conditions that puzzle some persons and irritate some persons among us. Usually in our continental meetings, there are resolutions on current issues which are discussed, debated and voted by delegates. Almost always a vote prevails for the liberal side of issues —

On civil liberties the widest and most comprehensive interpretation will be voted heavily.

On questions clearly involving segregation and integration, the vote will positively affirm integration now.

On questions of internationalism vs. nationalism, the United Nations or a world of law will be chosen.

On matters involving disarmament or bans on nuclear testing, the delegates will strongly favor disarmament as against a stronger military machine.

On almost any issue, the liberal vote can be counted on to prevail.

Does, this mean, as I have suggested in the title that we welcome theological diversity but insist on ethical unity — and that this is a paradox? There is no simple answer, but there are a number of pertinent observations.

First, most issues would not receive an unanimous vote at the continental level. Furthermore, if votes were taken in the local churches and fellowships, the opposition would be greater. National church assemblies speak far more courageously, more radically than local congregations. It's easier to be a prophet in someone else's home town. So the first comment is that we do not have ethical unity.

Second, admitting this, it is also likely that we have a far greater consensus of unity on social issues among all people associating with us than is generally supposed. In our way of American living, we are probably not significantly different than middle class people of other Protestant groups. Professor J. Paul Williams, in his book, WHAT AMERICANS BELIEVE AMD HOW THEY WORSHIP, (p.303), reports on the opinions of Methodist laymen surveyed in 38 States. There seems to be surprising agreement. For example}

"88.6% of these laymen believe that Christians should support the U.N. and try to be informed on the major issues that come before it.

"78.6% believe that racial discrimination and segregation in such areas as education, employment, and religion should be eliminated.

"71.6% believe that the church should encourage disarmament among the nations with the United States taking the lead.

"74.1% believe the church is responsible for encouraging better farming and business methods which will lead to better living standards and the possibility for a more wholesome life for all.

"58.3% believe that every person should have the freedom to refuse to serve in the Armed Forces if such service conflicts with his religious convictions.

"53.7% believe the church should be responsible for helping attain fair and just relations between labor unions and management.

"82.7% believe that profit, resulting from methodical and well-ordered work, is valued and praised as a profit of God's blessing.

"91.1% believe that Politics should call forth the serious and intelligent concern of the conscientious Christian.

"86.6% believe that in advancing economic and technical aid to under-developed countries and under-privileged people, the United States should have as their first concern not American interests, but the needs of the people involved.

"98.0% believe that in the sight of God, no race or color of man is better than another."

In all candor, however, my third observation is that these convictions may not be of central importance to the average American. In a study conducted by the Y.M.C.A. of the interests and activities of young adult men and women, the flat statement was made that a "real gap separates religious interest and social responsibility." The "Y" survey indicates that on the whole, when a person has religious interest he is not stirred by strong motives to participate in decision-making on social issues, particularly controversial ones.

I read to you portions of the article by Dr. J. Lawrence Burkholder, (Christian Century, 9/4/63), and would like to set before you again one sentence he wrote, "Is it too harsh to say that most Protestant congregations decide in the course of a year almost nothing of real spiritual importance?"

The answer readily supplied by many persons is that the congregation is not supposed to decide anything of spiritual importance. The congregation by teaching, preaching, worship is supposed to inspire the individual so that he will make decisions of spiritual importance and live a life of religious significance — or so many would say.

Right here is an ancient conflict in the life of organized religion. Church historian, Roland Bainton, when discussing the Left Wing of the Reformation, points out that the radicals of the Reformation severely criticized the Lutheran and Calvinist Reformers as well as the medieval church, because the revolt from Rome had not sufficiently improved moral behavior. .Professor Bainton posed the question this way, "should the Church be thought of primarily in terms of leaven or light?"

Should the organized Church try to be the yeast of society by permeating it from within and by group action make the whole life of society rise? Or, should the Church be as a light set on a hill, above the valleys and plains of everyday society, influencing the world by example to individuals, who seeing the beacon of righteousness and holiness will be moved to live better lives and by virtue of inspired individual living, change society for the better?

In all honesty, most of the people I have met in my lifetime as laymen and minister think the Church should be a light to illumine the goals and conduct of the individual. This has always struck a sympathetic chord with people of our persuasion, for we cherish the right of the individual choice in becoming involved or not involved either in controversial issues or programs we consider trivial.

Yet the older I get the more I am persuaded that organized religion that ends with the individual, also ends many of the potential powers the Church possesses to help the transformation of social morality. Too frequently the appeal to emulate the light on the hill has no consequences in society. My observation is that by and large the persons who are known publicly for their individual convictions on matters involving human rights and peaceful living are also the persons who believe that the organized Church should be a leaven in society, at work within society with a yeasty vigor to make the ideals become real.

The idea of the light on the hill presents no problem to the organized church, of the congregational type government. The ideals can be splendid, but vague; no person feels anxious except perhaps the preacher who recognizes that the light is needed, but knows that the leaven makes ideals become real.

Lest I seem to be carping, let me testify somewhat parenthetically, that one of the great freedoms that most of us preachers enjoy is the free pulpit. A few ministers still get the "heave-ho" for what they say publicly, but by and large, the freedom of the pulpit is not only a recognized right, but a generous grant by the congregations.

I am reminded of the story Carl Carmer tells in his Hudson River stories in that great "Rivers of America" series. (p.39ff). In l646 at Fort Amsterdam, the preacher, Dominie Bogardus, was intensely disliked by the Director of the Colony, and the feeling was returned. After a hot-tempered altercation between them, the Director knew the preacher would preach bitterly the following Sunday. The Director could not interfere with the service or sermon, but "he ordered the Fort Amsterdam drum corps to beat a loud tattoo just outside the church door during the morning services. He made doubly sure that the good man's shouts Would not be heard, by having the fort cannon fired frequently in the course of the sermon...."

Today such a method of limiting a free pulpit would be a public scandal and invasion of rights. Every man in the pulpit should humbly thank his God for his freedom to speak. But it is not enough for the preacher to speak — whether radically, conservatively or indistinguishably. Any preacher could make some comments here, humorous or pathetic, depending on his mood. Rather than yield to self-righteousness or self-pity, let me repeat an observation about a fellow minister. He is a grizzled veteran of many courageous stands and competent ministries. Some years ago, I was his successor, a couple of times removed. When encountering a rather substantial tide of conservative opinion among the congregation, I inquired, "if my sermons disturb you, how did you tolerate Dr. So and So for four years?" I was answered, "Oh, he liked to say things and we didn't mind."

There is an increasing consciousness, at least among the leadership of various denominations, that both light and leaven are required if the church lives up to its moral obligations. At the March on Washington last August, Dr. Eugene Carson Blake, famous Presbyterian leader, speaking for the National Council of Churches spoke humbly, "Late we Come. Late we Come." He was driving home the indubitable fact that the organized Church was late in living up to its professions—"Late we Come," but the time was now and the Church finally arriving on the scene of social struggle.

We know how difficult it is to grasp ways the Church can speak and act as a unit on issues that matter. I've have had some discussions on how this might be accomplished, but with no program yet to which the membership has responded. Issues that matter are always controversial and involvement measures out irritation and anxiety, as well as conviction and confidence.

We can devise ways to speak; we can set up procedures so that not only individuals in the Church, not only auxiliary organizations allied to the Church, but also the Church as gathered membership can establish a group opinion and proclaim that conviction. This conviction that the Church can be leaven as well as light is expressed throughout the section on Social Action on the Free Church in the Changing World and is summarized, "if we are to translate our faith into effective social service and social action, new methods of organization and a more imaginative, sustained emphasis upon social responsibility is urgently indicated...."

Do you remember the way George Bernard Shaw dealt with essentially this matter in his great play, MAJOR BARBARA? Barbara, daughter of a munitions manufacturer is shocked when she learns that the religious rescue army she has joined eagerly, accepts money from distillers and from her own father, the armaments man. She, disillusioned, cannot accept what the leaders say, that they would take money from the Devil himself if it would further their program. In the famous preface, Shaw comments on the clergyman in the Church, "He must either share the world's guilt or go to another planet. He must save the world's honor if he is to save his own. This is what all the Churches find just as the Salvation Army and Barbara find it in the play. Her discovery is that she is her father's accomplice; that the Salvation Army is the accomplice of the distiller and the dynamite maker; that they can no more escape one another than they can escape the air they breathe; and that there is no salvation for them through personal righteousness, but only through the redemption of the whole nation from its vicious, lazy, competitive anarchy. Nevertheless we proceed without the least misgiving as to the elevation of our private characters, the purity of our private atmospheres and our right to repudiate as foreign to ourselves the coarse depravity of garret and slum. Not that we mean any harm; we only desire to be, in our little private way, ladies and gentlemen. We do not understand Barbara's lesson because we have not, like her, learnt it by taking our part in the larger life of the nation."

When there is a strong majority or consensus among us, usually the issue is that of human rights as opposed to values subordinate to the human values. We need not fear that we are being inconsistent with the freedoms we prize, for these freedoms are preserved only by struggle and the church cannot separate itself from the world any more than the disciples of Jesus could go their separate ways after his death, relying only on the light that shone radiantly from the memories of his life. In order to carry into human affairs the truths they believed about human nature and human conduct, they had to organize and came to be known as a group for the things they believed.

How can it be different for us? I trust that we will speak more clearly and more frequently, not only as lone voices but also as gathered liberal religionists who have convictions about man in the world and the issues he faces. How else can a church speak to its times than to be aware of issues, not as lackadaisical spectator, but rather as a spokesman for freedom, peace, abundance in society — because these values are today's universalities.

Of course the prospect may seem to some to be an alarming trend, but the past can guide us. One of Carl Sandburg’s examples of Lincoln's humor was the occasion when "A California Republican, Cornelius Cole, called on business so tangled that it reminded Lincoln of a young Universalist preacher who came to Springfield. Three ministers of orthodox churches agreed 'to take turns and preach this young fellow down.' A Methodist preached the first sermon. He commenced by telling his large congregation how happily they were all situated in Springfield. Launching into his sermon, the Methodist shouted, 'And now comes a preacher preaching a doctrine that all men shall be saved. But, my brethren, let us hope for better things.'" (The War Years)

The real hope for better things in our day lies in those who won't be talked down with lesser goals than the universalities of our day in our world, peace, freedom, maturity and the search for truth. This will best be achieved by devotion to human values in organized ways as well as by individual conviction.