The Power to Tell the Future

March 3, 1968
Plainfield

The Power to Tell the Future

Once a year the minister assigns his sermon to the matter of financial support for the Church. When the minister attempts to speak on the subject of money, inevitably the thought comes to him, that of all the subjects on which he can speak with the least authority, money-raising ranks rather high. A young boy asked his father,

"Dad, what's a millionaire?"
"Son, somebody who has a million dollars."
"Well, Dad, I'm a oneaire."

Admitting a condition of being infinitely nearer a oneaire than the other, at the same time I would like to emphasize that one of the most false notions that popular music has made proverbial is that the best things in life are free. Whether or not you consider the Church one of the best things in life, the fact is that there is considerable cost in maintaining the free church. This is true of all things of value.

Soon the annual fund drive gets underway and members and friends are given the opportunity to pledge money for the church year which begins May 1st. I do not hesitate to attempt to persuade you to consider seriously what you will give to the Church. Our buildings stand; our activities proceed; year by year we experience the positive and less positive experiences of church life. What we are able to do with program[s], how well we meet the ongoing, regular, and emergency needs of maintenance and repair does depend on the measure of support given by those who feel an obligation to participate in the fund drive. One participates two ways: by being a worker in the campaign and by considering the needs and measuring his interest and ability to support that need.

Who enjoys asking for money? The Apostle Paul who was the missionary who strengthened and inspired the Christian movements in many cities of the Mediterranean world of that day, found fund-raising a bit awkward. In his famous first letter to the people at Corinth, Paul instructed them in many things – unity and order in the Church, how a Christian should act in a non-Christian world, the nature of spiritual gifts, the priority of love and life after death. In the last chapter, he writes (almost bashfully) "And now about the collection in aid of God's people ... every Sunday each of you is to put by him a sum in proportion to his gains, so that there may be no collecting when I come." It seems that Paul was not anxious to ask for money in person. I know there are many in this religious society, and all similar institutions who similarly are not quivering with eagerness to ask for money.

When members are invited annually to attend training sessions for more effective solicitation; when they are urged to make calls thoroughly and to persist in attempts to contact prospects; when the Finance Committee emphasizes the importance of following the step-by-step procedures of the planned campaign, these methodical steps are a recognition that although money may talk, have you noticed how hard of hearing it is when you call it?

There are substantial differences in the intensity of allegiance that different persons hold toward this religious society. Some persons have deep interest and make considerable commitment of time, money, and affection. Others hold only the most marginal of allegiance, making only token contributions of money, and register only sporadic and indifferent participation and attendance. Of the latter, perhaps H. L. Mencken's acid comment on democracy can be cited, "I do not believe in democracy; but I am perfectly willing to admit that it provides the only really amusing form of government ever endured by mankind." Some persons on the far fringe of interest in the Church seem to indicate that although they do not believe in Unitarianism Universalism, they are willing to admit that it provides the only really amusing (or innocuous) form of religion ever endured by modern man.

In between such limits of deep involvement and fringe participation, there are a great many shadings of commitment and loyalty. It is not my place to pass judgment on those less than deeply interested. From my point of view, there is much futility in exhorting a person to feel interested and become more involved when he is not interested and does not choose to become more involved.

Yet I have no hesitancy in asserting that, with all the failings any institution has, I have not discovered an authentic replacement for organized religion in general and our Unitarian Universalist religion in particular. Religion provokes man to come to terms with himself; challenges man to find ways to apply ethical standards in the social order; inspires man to find his identity in and relationship with the vast, mysterious, creating forces in the Universe. This is religion as I see it: the serious attitude we take toward self, others, and the Universe because the forces, which are both separate and merging in ourselves, others, and the Universe determine our destiny and our real happiness.

In my view, no secular movement, whether a professional association, a political ideology, or an affluent culture of material living has yet come close to replacing the religious institution as the source of significance. There are many who assert that solitary religion has the most profound meaning. There are those who find that the group meeting for worship fails to touch them deeply. Some persons report that the service departs so far from Unitarian traditional patterns that no spark ignites their feelings. Others comment that the service is old-hat, insufficiently innovative and creative, to move them at deep levels of feeling.

There are many ways of believing about worship, education, action. I don’t know of any religious group which exceeds ours in the differences in religious backgrounds and the varieties of current interpretations held by members. We will never achieve loyalty to a single idea or a specific theology around which unquestioning devotion could cluster.

When our members call on other members seeking support, no easy cliche will serve as the appeal. It is not always comforting to support a religious institution which offers the opportunity to inquire rather providing a safe enclosure of comfort; which provides the setting for dissent and debate rather than the security of total agreement; which ventures into hitherto unknown highlands of the worship experience rather than the level pastures where the sheep have always safely grazed.

Yet with all our fumblings and failings, it is the rhythms of contrasting opinions that constitute our source of strength as well as the stings of occasional irritation. The varieties of services are our justification for worship. The world is changing; however beloved, the older patterns have but weak currents of magnetism and may not attract the people of a new age of communication and emerging culture in which pleasure is just as much a value as various prohibitions; a new age in which direct experience at the feeling level has greater impact than ancient dogmas, even Unitarian Universalist dogmas. A creedless religion has no choice but to be true for today. The people who are seeking us out are inquiring,

Who am I today?

What can I believe today?

What must I do today?

Herb Goss sent me a story this week which fits well at this point. Apparently a boy had been told the story of the Exodus from Egypt and the miraculous crossing of the Red Sea by the Children of Israel.

Rushing home, he cries, "Mom, you gotta hear this. It seems this guy Moses was leading his people to the Promised Land and these Egyptians were after them with tanks, bazookas and automatic weapons. So Moses rushes across the river, digs up some uranium, and makes an atomic bomb. He blows up the river with the bomb and drowns all the Egyptians."

The boy’s mother says angrily, "Is this the way your teacher told this?" [He replies,] "No, ma, but if I told it her way you'd never believe it."

This religion we cherish has some affinities with this story. For us, religion is not believing what was improbable in the ancient past, but seeking what is possible to believe and do today.

Some of you may have begun to wonder what this has to do with the title I announced, "The Power to Tell the Future." I found what was for me a stimulating symbol in the story of an ancient religious practice. From an old Norse saga a story is told that on a certain island off the coast of Norway in a temple dedicated to Thor, sacrifices were brought to a stone idol in the Temple and the demon or spirit in the stone would talk with the worshiper, even walk with him. The scholar wrote, "It was because sacrifice was taken to the rock that the demon within it had power to assure prosperity and to tell the future. When respect was no longer paid to him and instead of sacrifice, holy water poured on the rock, the demon's power and magnificence were gone. In other words, when sacrifice is withdrawn, the rock is no longer the residence of the god and he retires, rejected, dejected and impoverished." (MYTH AND RELIGION OF THE NORTH, Turville-Petre, p.250)

When the primitive or superstitious elements are removed from this ancient myth, an enduring meaning remains to inform us that human sacrifice is the power that organized religion possesses. The sacrifice of money and time gives this religion the power to maintain buildings and improve and expand program[s] – the power to tell the future of this religious society. Perhaps "sacrifice" is not the real intent of our financial campaign. I would urge no one to do without the necessities of life in order to give significantly to this 1st Unitarian Society of Plainfield. What is asked that you measure what you can pledge against the needs and opportunities we have before us.

You will be given a budget proposal containing the hopes of the various sections of the life of our Church. All appropriations must be sanctioned finally by the vote of the membership, April 7. The budget proposal represents the hopes for the coming year. The power to tell the future rests not with a demon in a rock but the degree of real support this religious enterprise receives from those who choose to support it.

The future condition of these buildings – appearance, comfort, usefulness, aesthetic impact, can be told by the degree to which we support the necessary costs of keeping up the property. Those who support the fund drive have the power to tell that future.

The future of the program of this religious society here in Plainfield will be determined by the measure of support given, and by the manner of participation in the decision-making process of a religious society whose final authority is the membership. I would mention just one item in the program proposals because it is a major thrust – a budget item for the salary of a d.r.e. [Director of Religious Education]. Our r.e.e. [?] believes the addition of such a staff person will make a major, positive difference in the way our education programs for children and young people are planned and performed. The power to tell that future is in your hand when considering your pledge.

Occasionally I recall a story from old time religion which seems germane. Sam Jones was a famous 19th-century evangelist who attracted large crowds and made many converts with his eloquence, enthusiasm and wit. He would tell an Ohio River story about a little steamboat which had a whistle too large for its boiler. Every time the captain pulled the whistle, the boat stopped. There was not enough steam in the boiler for the little steamboat to both run and toot.

We have a plant and program that requires considerable steam to keep sound and moving. The power to keep it going well, upstream or downstream, will be known by our capacity to give this religious enterprise energy and an essential part of the voyage is the energy created by your support. We need a boiler large enough for both our engine and whistle. That is, we have a multi-purpose enterprise. You are needed.