Address: God is Good©

The Rev. Sarah Lammert, USR, September 30, 2007

 

I was raised to believe that God is an omniscient, omnipotent being.  “God is Great, God is good, and I thank him for this food.”  The Episcopal tradition I grew up in was not particularly heavy on the wrathful, angry, damning side of God.  The God of my childhood was relatively mild – merciful and forgiving of our sins for the most part with some major exceptions – the banishment from paradise, the flood of Noah’s ark, and the seven deadly plagues being examples that come to mind.

            It was confusing in a way.  God loves you so much that he sacrificed his only son for you.  Yet; you are also a lowly sinner and you better watch out – or at least feel generally guilty for your fallen ways.  I certainly didn’t want God the father to get angry with me – it was bad enough when my own dad was angry with me.  I remember praying fervently in the sixth grade when I lost a $5 text book from school, promising to be eternally well behaved if he could only deliver me from the wrath of Mrs. Braden, my teacher that year.  I miraculously found the book, but it was a hard bargain to maintain!

            Over the next two Sundays, we are going to be taking a look at God and religion.  Is God good or is God not good?  I imagine that some of you have opinions about that.  This may actually be the sermon series in which I manage to offend nearly everyone on both side of the theistic equation, because I want to look critically at the ways we imagine the divine, reject the divine, how God and religion has polluted humanity, and how God and religion has shaped the best in humankind.  Someone here quipped to me recently that it is easier to take on an issue like abortion here than it is to talk about God.  That makes us fairly unique across the religious landscape of this nation!

            So, let’s see if we can talk about God over the next two weeks – not by looking exhaustedly at every depiction of God in every time and culture, and also not by taking a theological poll to see how we line up on the spectrum from atheism to agnosticism to theism, panentheism and beyond.  This week I want to start by taking a look at an often neglected part of our particular brand of religion – the Universalist view of God as Love.  I’m going to challenge you to look at God from the inside out – not as an outer force to be bowed down to, but an inner ideal to live up to.  If we consider that whatever is divine in us is expressed in love, how might we then live?

            Next week, we’ll take on some of the ideas on writers and cultural critics like Sam Harris, Richard Dawkins, and Christopher Hitchens.  All of these men agree passionately that God is a delusion, and religion a scourge upon civilization.  Science, on the other hand, is held up almost uncritically by these men as the “salvation”, if you will, of our race and our world.  Can Science study religion?  Is the God question hard-wired into the human brain?  Has religion played a part in shaping positive values in our culture, and can it make us moral?  What would the world look like if we imagined with John Lennon, that there was no heaven, and no religion too?

            For this week, I want to talk about a vision of God that arose from a different cultural context and time – the vision of the Universalist God. While Unitarianism has roots that reach back some five centuries to the radical wing of the Protestant Reformation, Universalism is a distinctly American religion, born in the same ferment that led to the war for American Independence.  The second half of the 18th century was a time of political, intellectual, and theological questioning in Great Britain’s North American Colonies.  Just as the colonists were moving in the direction of breaking their political relationship of subservience to England that they deemed oppressive, so too many individuals found in North America a climate in which to formulate independent philosophical and theological views.

The Universalists were certainly not alone in rebelling against exclusive claims of orthodoxy held by more conservative Christian churches.  There were the Deists, the Unitarians, the Congregationalists, the Quakers, Baptists and others staking their own identities and claim to religious truth.  What made the Universalists distinct was their particular view of salvation.  While the more conservative Christian churches claimed that salvation was made available only by accepting Jesus as one’s personal Lord and Savior, and used the threat of eternal damnation to guide people away from sin, the Universalist message focused on Love.  God is Love, said the Universalists, and love is our guiding principal.  God so loved as to send his son Jesus to atone for human sin, yes, and that is that!  In other words, Jesus saved everyone – not just an elect few – and God is too loving to damn anyone eternally.

            Universalist views on the divinity of Jesus were not uniform – some believing that he was merely human, and others that he was a part of a Trinitarian godhead.  Universalists, like Unitarians, rejected all forms of religious test or creed, so there was room in the fold for differing interpretations on fine points of theology.  Actually, there were Universalists at the heretical edge of every denomination.  One of the most famous preachers in the New York area in the mid 19th Century, Henry Ward Beecher (the son of the last great Puritan preacher in America, Lyman Beecher) was a Universalist, although he was at first a Presbyterian and then a Congregationalist minister.  He had been raised to believe that one could not be both good and happy, and that the God he served was a stern father indeed.  Then one May morning he had the following transforming vision as he was walking outdoors near his seminary:

There rose up before me a view of Jesus as the Saviour of sinners – not of saints, but of sinners unconverted, before they were any better – because they were so bad and needed so much; and that view has never gone from me.  It did not at first fill the whole Heaven; it came as a rift along the horizon gradually, little by little, the cloud rolled up.  It was three years before the whole sky was cleared so that I could see it all around, but from that hour I felt that God had a father’s heart;…He did not frown on me for cast me off, but cared for me with unutterable tenderness…and it seemed to me that I had everything I needed.

            Henry spoke about the feeling that a terrible weight had been lifted from his heart that day, so that he went through the fields laughing, singing, raying and shouting “like a lunatic escaped from confinement.”  In later retellings he sometimes described this new God in female imagery, as one “who felt toward me as my mother felt towards me” and “who always makes me happy so that happiness makes me good.” 

            Unless you were raised in a holy roller blast ‘em and scare ‘em fundamentalist tradition, it may be hard for you to imagine what a radical departure the idea of a Loving God was for most Christians in this country, who were fed a regular sermonic diet of fear of God’s wrath.  Beecher himself would go on to become active in the abolition movement, and his pioneering use of humor and story in the pulpit along with his emphasis on Jesus as a soul mate rather than the Lord as lawgiver would eventually bring him audiences of thousands on Sundays as well as many detractors who accused him of heresy.   The religious papers were aghast, for instance, that he preached with a vase of flowers on his pulpit desk one Sunday (false idols I suppose!), but soon his entire church was brimming with flowers. 

            Ralph Waldo Emerson, another cultural iconoclast of his day admired Beecher, saying that he embodied the Transcendalist spirit (which insisted that divinity coursed through the natural world and spoke through the intuitive language of the heart).  Emerson bestowed a great compliment on Beecher when he said “Our four most powerful men in the virtuous class in this country are Horace Greeley, Theodore Parker, Henry Ward Beecher, and Horace Mann.”  Both men had a tremendous optimism concerning humankind’s ability to cultivate the sublime within.  Love, they agreed, was the greatest force in the universe – it could free people from fear, allow them to cultivate their unique gifts, and bind humanity in a united whole.[1]

            It is difficult to look around our world and to hold that great confidence that Emerson and Beecher carried about the upward and onward progression of humankind.  Standing in line yesterday at the local bagel store, I read through the headlines of the Bergen Record: “Mayor, wife face extortion charges,” “Man arrested in purse snatching case.” “Fire stresses cigarettes deadly risk,” “Undocumented students await aid.”  Where’s the love?  Where’s the love in Myanmar, in Darfur, and in Iraq?  Where’s the love of the stranger who might just an angel in disguise, who has something to teach us about ourselves?  Where’s the love of those we think we know, our mothers, our sons, our lovers, our sisters, our uncles, our friends, but in whose mystery we might encounter the divine?  Where is the love of ourselves, and how might we live if we truly cherished love as if Love were God itself?

            What would our world look like if we treated Love as the only God worthy of our reverence?  Mystics from all traditions, such as Rabia, Rumi, Hafiz, and St. John of the Cross write in strikingly similar, intimate fashion of God as Lover; God as dissolver of all limitation:

St. John of the Cross, a 16th Century Carmelite monk, writes:

“I said to God, “What are you? And he replied, “I am what is loved.”…”What is grace?” I asked God.  And he said “All that happens.” Then He added, when I looked perplexed, “Could not lovers say that every moment in their Beloved’s arms was grace?  Existence in my arms, though I well understand how one can turn away from me until the heart has wisdom.”

 

Or, this from Rabia, a female Islamic Saint of the 8th century: “Prayer should bring us to an altar where no walls or names exist.  Is there not a region of love …In my soul there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church, that dissolve, that dissolve in God.[2]

This has been a week of funerals for me.  First, a memorial service for Anita Young’s mother, then a funeral for a close friend’s brother, and finally the memorial service celebrated in this hall yesterday in honor of Carl Petrie.  It’s also been a week in which many people I know and care about have had losses, or family crises, or health care woes that have been rather serious.  Weeks like these are emotionally tough, but they also have the effect for me of focusing me on what is truly important.

            Here’s what I learned, or perhaps re-learned, this week about living as if Love were what truly mattered:  From Anita’s mom Jean: Live life as a thank you.  Praise everything, speak ill about no one, and bloom where you are planted.  This sounds almost trite until you consider the fact that Jean lived the last 26 years of her life in a nursing home, a situation that most of us would rather die than face.  She lived her 96 years of life as a thank you.  From my friend Cheryl’s brother Charles: Show up for the ones you love, and be faithful to them.  His life was cut short at 56, but he left a legacy of warmth and love that carried his family through tragedy and loss, and left them stronger for his having loved them.  From Carl: participate in the dance of life with all its ups and downs, take time to listen and reflect, and be generous with your heart.

            All of us are doing the best we can with what we have.  Sometimes we fail in life – there are failed marriages, failed attempts to reconcile with difficult family members, failed careers, and failures to live up to what we know we are capable of.  What if we decided that doing our best, and loving with all our hearts was good enough?  I don’t know the finer points of each of your theologies, but to me we tap into the potential of God – actually create the divine or at least uncover the sparks of divinity – when we embrace the practice of love as the greatest spiritual discipline – day by day, and moment by moment.

            Universalism no longer exists as an independent faith movement in our country.  In 1963, after a long period of decline, the Universalist merged with the Unitarianism, although I’m not sure that we’ve yet achieved a balance in terms of honoring and shining the light on this aspect of our religious heritage.  Recently, a Pentecostal TV evangelist, The Rev. Carlton Pearson, experienced a conversion to Universalism not unlike that of Henry Ward Beecher back in the 19th Century.  After 30 years of preaching a message warning people to follow the rules or burn in hell, he suddenly came to believe that a loving God would not damn anyone to eternal hell, and that if Jesus’ death saved anyone, it must have saved everyone.  Like many UU’s he also came to believe that hell is not something in the life to come, but is and experience that arises here in this world out of greed, fear, and ignorance.

            It appears that Pearson came to this understanding all on his own, having never been exposed to the long tradition of Universalist heretics dating well back to the 2nd Century.  My colleague in Paramus, The Rev. Justin Osterman, (who will be guest preaching here in February), noted that over 280,000 people have visited Pearson’s website to read about his “theology of inclusion” – most of whom we can be fairly certain, have never heard of Universalism or Unitarian Universalism for that matter, and our message that links individual worth with the understanding that we are all connected on this earth, and that love, mercy and justice are the ways we covenant to treat one another.

            I don’t know if Love can ever unite a broken humanity on a broken earth.  But for me, it is the closest I come to understanding what God might be, a God who is good.  I see the light of love in your eyes, I hear it in the strains of music that fills our hall, I taste it in cup of fellowship that we share.  May love be our only guide, in all that we say and do.

 

So be it.



[1] For further information about Beecher’s fascinating life as well as the scandal that enveloped the later part of his life, see Applegate, Debby, The Most Famous Man in America, Doubleday, NY, 2006.

[2] Ladinsky, Daniel, Love Poems From God, Penguin Compass, 2002.