Summer Theologica

June 6, 1982
Lakeland

“Why is it that you Unitarian Universalists are not religious in summer?” I don’t remember how many times I have been asked that question over many decades. Many persons of other faiths have been puzzled, condescending, or amused that we and our churches take the summer off. Some are convinced that the long summer of closed Unitarian Universalist church doors is a practice instituted by ministers in order to laze away the summer untroubled by the usual obligation to work one hour a week.

As nearly as I can understand, the summer vacation began in New England city churches where most Unitarian Universalists were clustered. Particularly in the Unitarian churches there was a strong concentration of the educated, wealthy elite who deserted the hot, humid cities for the North Shore, South Shore, Berkshires, or Maine. So the churches closed for July and August, frequently mid-June to mid-September. There were several reasons, or perhaps rationalizations – the church buildings in the summer were hot and uncomfortable. Then, too, one could hardly feel guilt at being on the beach or sailing Sunday morning, if one’s church was closed. Also, ministers, most of them, approved the practice. The more responsible among them not only dipped a toe in the surf but also studied, read, reflected on what sermon program would be worthwhile when the return to the city and services would occur. Another consideration: the quality of sermons appreciates in proportion to the number one must prepare and deliver. However, there are many of our churches which do not close in the summer. An increasing number of our ministers do not have a full, unencumbered vacation of much more than a month.

As far as the initial question is concerned, “Why Unitarian Universalists are not religious in summer?” the question may confuse ritual with religion. They are not necessarily identical. Such confusion does exist. Benjamin Franklin related what may be an unfair illustration when he recalled that in his expeditionary force to Canada in 1757, it was agreed that the priest-chaplain would give out the rum ration for the day after morning prayers. Franklin noted, “Never were prayers more generally and more punctually attended.” (Thomas, p. 237)

Religion is an experience; theology is the thoughtful interpretation of that experience. They differ widely – so many churches, attitudes, doctrines. Today we have heard how four poets interpreted the Summer experience – Emerson, cummings, Shakespeare, Lowell. One way of having a theological summer is to reflect on the wondrous and mysterious Nature which enfolds us all – the ocean, the rivers, the hills, the trails, the blossoming flowers and ripening crops, the calm of long twilights on porch or patio.

However, Nature does not cohere with many of our naïve sentimentalities or the poet’s flights of praise. Friday, I read that many tourists visiting Yellowstone Park are disturbed and angry at the National Park Service because of the large numbers of carcasses of elk, deer, bison that remain where they died. The animals die every winter, but this year, the carcasses are more numerous because of the unusually severe winter. Why should the Park Service refuse to remove this rotting carrion when the tourist public is offended or disgusted by such unpleasant sights?

The Park Service informs the complainers that to remove the carcasses would upset the natural balance. When the grizzlies and other bears, weak from hibernation, come out of their winter dens, the dead animals are their food. Similarly, lynx, fox, cougar, carrion-eating birds, rodents, insects feed on the winter kill. Should the balancing forces of nature be thrown askew in order to please the aesthetic sensitivity of swarming tourists? [who do not need to face the reality that nature is red in tooth and claw.]

Is nature cruel or just? Harsh or kind? Merciful or mean? Is destruction an inescapable condition of growth? Can life persist without continuous death? Reflect on that, theologically. I suggest that to attribute to Nature virtues that have become defined in humankind and culture – justice, mercy, love, will not penetrate the mystery of Nature. Did Alberto weaken from a hurricane to a tropical storm because Alberto chose to give a break to the people of the Keys and the lower Gulf Coast?

The dinosaurs and their kin dominated the Earth for 150 million years. The human time-span has been about 2% in length, but any long future continuance is problematical at best. With that immense time span, could the dinosaurs have perceived that they were made in the image of God?

The British scientist J.B.S. Haldane remarked that God must have an inordinate fondness for beetles. Of the approximately one million identified animal species, 75% are insects, and 60% of the insects are beetles. Reflect theologically on that (if you dare), particularly when spraying the house to exterminate bugs.

When Emerson declared that eulogy to Summer and Nature did you note the last two sentences: “In its fruitful soils; in its navigable sea; in its forest of all woods; in its animals; in its chemical ingredients; in the powers and path of light, heat, attraction and life, its well worth the pith and heart of great men to subdue and enjoy it. The planters, the mechanics, the inventions, the astronomers, the builders of cities, and the captains, history delights to honor.”

When Emerson wrote that, the resources of the Continent seemed unlimited. Opportunity was boundless for the ambitious, the hard-working, the ingenious. But now the forests are stripped, the air and water polluted, the cities blighted. Was it well worth the pith and heart of great men to subdue and enjoy it?

Reflect on that theologically, in your encounters this summer.

A second invitation to theology in your Summer times is – contemplate goodness in human affairs. Bad news sells papers and builds ratings for TV news. War in the Falklands, war breaking out in Israel and Lebanon, killings go on in Central America, Violence on our streets, murders, rapes, robberies. There was a report this week that most burglaries are committed by young persons under 15. A seven year old boy was in court this week in California charged with robbery and vandalism. White collar criminals steal millions – probably billions.

Then, too, everyone has a disagreeable memory in his/her personal history of being cheated in one way or another by someone who was trusted. Everyone of us carries the scar of a disillusion, an unfair treatment, of another person copping out on a commitment. Reflect theologically on why bad things happen.

But also in your Summer theologica contemplate goodness. Perhaps that goodness you will observe in the weeks ahead – an act of kindness done without thought of compensation or compliment. Perhaps that experience of goodness remains in your memory – a loving parent, or someone who did you a good turn when such was not required and without expecting reward. In a world where evil no longer astonishes us, contemplate goodness.

Aldous Huxley has a character comment in EYELESS IN GAZA, “God may or may not exist. But there is the empirical fact that contemplation of goodness in its most unquestioned form is a method of realizing that goodness in some slight degree in one’s own life.” [CJW note: Abstraction – fuzzy but visible act of goodness is ....]

Contemplate goodness, theologically. Cynicism recedes, hope advances.

Contemplate the sometimes strange nature of goodness. Alan Watts told the story (PSYCHOLOGY EAST AND WEST, p. 58) “of a Japanese coastal village threatened by tidal wave, but the wave was sighted far in advance by a long farmer in the rice fields high above the village. At once he set fire to the fields and the villagers came swarming up to save the fields and were saved from the flood.”

To use a current term, that is “tough love.”

In the meeting of persons, whether lovers, parents, children, friends, opponents – anyone, can we contemplate goodness or its potential as Theodore Roszak suggests (PERSON/PLANET, p. 167):

“We meet as strangers, each carrying a mystery within us. I cannot say who you are; I may never know you completely. But I trust that you are a person in your own right, possessed of beauty and value that are the world’s richest resources. So I make this promise to you: I will impose no identities upon you, but will invite you to become yourself without shame or fear....”

So in the weeks when we will not gather formally for Sunday worship, reflect on your experience. You may not think that your interpretation is theological, but it will be. That which comes to you may guide you in the never-ending quest for the meaning of life for you.