Not Three: The Trinity, UU’s and Me

Rev. Kathleen Rolenz

February 3, 2008

Several years ago, when I was living in the south, I was invited to give a presentation about Unitarian Universalism to the students of the Johnson Bible College. In an attempt to become more religiously inclusive, the professor had invited ministers, rabbis and imans from the surrounding community to come to speak about their faith. This was a very religiously conservative college, but they were serious about being exposed to the wider world of religious ideas and Unitarian Universalism was, for many, the most intriguing.

I spoke for about forty-five minutes, covering Unitarian and Universalist History, talking about the evolution of our faith tradition. As I opened the class up for Question and Answers, one young man raised his hand and blurted out "I just really need to ask you one question, mam. Are you a Christian?" I paused, then asked back, "Well then, what is a Christian?" Their hands shot up. Many were more than eager to tell me.

So, I thought about the question for a moment. Finally, I said "If being a Christian means subscribing to a biblical literalism, or professing a doctrine or creed like belief in the Trinity or beliefs that defy the rational mind, then no, I cannot call myself a Christian. If however, you mean do I aspire to live the teachings of Jesus in my life through careful study and reflection of the Gospels, then yes, I am a Christian." That response generated a buzz in the classroom.

One of the students didn't want the discussion to end there. She pressed harder. "I don't understand how you can call yourself a Christian. I mean--do you at least believe in the Trinity? The Father, Son and Holy Spirit? I mean if you don't really believe in that--or that Jesus was the son of God or that he died for our sins, well, I don't think you can really call yourself a Christian, can you?"

That question has haunted me--and, I supposed is in part the basis for this morning's sermon. To be a Unitarian Universalist Christian is like being between a rock and a hard place sometimes. Fundamentalists think that Christian UU's just don't take some basic doctrines seriously--and Unitarian Universalists believe if you just hear enough stories about how much evil in the world Christianity has caused, you wouldn't be a Christian.

Last Sunday, my co-minister and husband Wayne Arnason shared with you some of his religious beliefs and identity in this sermon: "Not Two." While sitting over that cup of coffee one morning and talking about our time in Clearwater, I said "well, if you're faith tradition is not two--then mine is not three! Because I really don't have much use for the Trinity, although I consider myself to be a Christian." Our hope for this sermon series was to offer you two different perspectives, from two deeply committed Unitarian Universaliast ministers, who are also deeply committed Buddhists and Christians. So this sermon will not solely be a scholarly, abstract presentation about liberal Christianity, although I do draw on some of the fine writings of Marcus Borg and Bishop Shelby Spong. And this sermon is neither an apology for Christianity or a thinly disguised attempt to change your minds about your own belief systems. It is simply to tell another story--in this case--my own story--about what it means to claim a particular theological identity in Unitarian Universalism today. What I hope to do this morning is to go where angels often fear to tread--into the murky, crocodile infested waters of Christianity and the use of religious language as found in our Unitarian Universalist Churches. So, let's dive in together--by swimming backwards.

Let's go back for a moment, to the faith of our childhood. How many of you were raised Unitarian Universalists? How many of you were raised in some Christian Sunday school? Many of you. Perhaps your experience was similar to mine. I was dropped off at a Missouri Synod Lutheran Church for the about the first 13 years of my life. I attended Sunday school in the basement of that church, received what I call "Felt-Board Theology," that is--little cut out pictures of Noah and the Ark, Jesus walking on water, Jonah and the Whale--all presented to me as if these stories were literally true. The teachers either did not believe that these stories were metaphorical, or they didn't believe that children could understand the nuances of metaphor. In his book "Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time," Marcus Borg categorizes our religious thinking into three stages, pre-critical naiveté, critical and post-critical naiveté. Let's look at the first one. Pre-Critical naiveté is the unthinking stage of faith development--the place where one accepts as literal truth everything that is in the Bible. Jesus turned water into wine--it's a miracle! Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead--testament to his awesome powers! And of course, we cannot forget the greatest miracle of all--Jesus himself comes back from the dead. At this stage, some of us start doing the evil deed--we start asking questions.

Maybe that stage in life came early for you, or perhaps much later. For me, I started asking questions of my Missouri Synod Lutheran Pastor, who did not take kindly to heretics. I left the church and in college entered Borg's second stage of faith development, the stage of the critical thinker. This is the stage where many of us find Unitarian Universalism and it's like a breath of fresh air. I know that some who make their way to our doors are seeking a refuge from an abusive Christian upbringing, or from the constant barrage of questions and attempts at conversion from supposedly well-meaning relatives, friends or co-workers. I also understand why some Unitarian Universalist don't really have anything against Christianity per se, but just are puzzled as to why anyone, living in the 21st century, would find it very meaningful, especially since they believe a suspension of the rational mind is necessary in order to be a Christian. /p>

I had long located myself in the Marcus Borg's second stage of belief, or, rather, disbelief, and a stage where many Unitarian Universalists find themselves. The critical thinking stage is that moment when you are sitting in church, reading the Apostles Creed, or hearing another arcane sermon about the Trinity, and you find yourself skipping over the parts you don't agree with. Borg appreciates this stage, for this is the stage of religious and spiritual development that, when allowed to blossom, is the beginning of maturity. This is the place that many of us seek out Eastern religions--Buddhism, Taoism; or, perhaps turn towards Earth-centered religions. This is the stage where we question the beliefs of our youth and begin to define our theology by what we are "not." It's an important stage, and, some find themselves on a path that leads them away from Christianity. Some embark upon a path of deep humanism, finding meaning not in transcendent ideals or one sacred text, but in the power and potential of human beings. Others, however, find themselves in the place of becoming what Borg calls a "fact fundamentalist." A fact fundamentalist looks at the stories in the Bible and exposes them as untrue. Of course Jesus didn't come back from the dead--can you prove it? The story of Jonah and the whale?? Ridiculous! In order to believe in something, you have to prove that it's true. And since these concepts of faith and miracles and God can't be proven, they must not be true.

This is the point about which Marcus Borg would take issue. He cautions us from being such "fact fundamentalists" that we cannot look at the stories from the Bible as true, even if they did not really happen that way. He likes to quote the Native American storyteller, who begins every story with the phrase, "now I don't know if it really happened this way--but I know this story to be true." As Unitarian Universalists we are proud of our ability to think symbolically and metaphorically--until it comes to the Bible. "I don't believe in the virgin birth--or the miracles of Jesus--or the hocus pocus of Moses--therefore, the Bible must not be true." And yet, what Borg and other liberal Biblical scholars would challenge us with, is that stories don't need to be factually accurate to be true stories--that is, in order to point to deeper, metaphorical meanings. We do not analyze poetry with the same kind of lens we study our DNA. We do not use an ax to swat a fly. So why, when it comes to engaging more deeply with traditional religious words and concepts, do Unitarian Universalists suddenly become fact fundamentalists? When the need to factually prove the stories in the Bible diminishes, another way of understanding our Christian heritage can be seen--or, at least, that's what happened to me, about ten years ago.

I was part of an ecumenical study group that met every week to study the Bible. We were reading the story about Jesus turning water into wine--dancing at the wedding--talking with his mother. I was quick to point out to the group that I didn't believe Jesus actually turned water into wine--that made him something of a magician. As the conversation unfolded, it dawned on me that other members of the group didn't believe that it actually, physically happened either--even my friend the Catholic priest! Not long after that, I realized that my colleagues did not believe in any of the tenets that I thought characterized a Christian! They didn't believe in Jesus atonement for our sins in a literal way. They didn't believe that he would physically come back to earth. Nor did they believe in the literal meaning of the Bible. Instead, what I discovered was that they were much more adept at understanding metaphor than I was. I had become a fact fundamentalist.

What was important to them was the meaning of the story--the message underneath the so-called miracle, and that whether it actually happened or not did not matter one bit. It was then that Jesus stepped out of the pages of the Bible, like a hologram. I realized I had been shadow boxing all these years, fighting against an unseen enemy that actually had no qualms with my questioning, rebellious and heretical spirit. I had been quarrelling with a shadow, with a Jesus who, in my mind was always too good and too sweet, and with God, who was neither. Listen writes Nancy Shaffer, when you quarrel with God really you are quarrelling with those who have come after God--you could just leave off this quarrelling and begin again, with just yourself and God.

This is the stage that Marcus Borg calls "post-critical naiveté." To be a post-critical naïve thinker means that we have the ability to hear the stories of the Christian faith as true stories, even though we may believe they didn't actually happen in the way they are described. It means to enter deeply into poetry and myth and metaphor. Naiveté when described by Borg, is not being fooled or seduced, but being open--always open to the fact that revelation is not sealed--that new insights can surprise us. It means having the fresh and open eyes of a child--of seeing and meeting and hearing Jesus again for the first time--through the eyes of a Unitarian Universalist--through the eyes of this faith this chosen faith.

That's why Bill Sinkford's suggestion a few years back of looking at "a language of reverence" struck me as important, and the cutting edge of spiritual growth for Unitarian Universalists. For many years, we have become literalists about our language. We can't hear the word God without imagining some old white man in the sky who controls our destiny. We can't say the word worship without imagining that it means falling on our knees and praising a God whom we don't believe in. We can't hear the word faith except to believe that it means an irrational, unscientific view of the world. We can't say the word prayer, without believing that we've become children asking God who is the great Santa Claus in the sky, to make it all better for us. Instead, can we imagine that worship is a deep connection to those things of worth and meaning, which we must lift up and celebrate and participate in? And can't we hear the word faith and know that it is a kind of lens through which we view the world and our lives, a lens that sees ’alue, meaning and hope even in the more dire of circumstances. And can't we understand the word prayer to believe to mean the expression of our longings and use it as a spiritual practice to keep our hearts open at every age and every stage in our life?

As Unitarian Universalists, one of our favorite sayings is "revelation is not sealed." I take that statement very seriously, as a spiritual practice--that although I may be influenced by my past, I cannot be ruled by it. I must be open to new insights and to be aware of the inner movements of both my mind and heart as my religious life unfolds and deepens and continually prepares me for the next stage of life. Fifteen years ago, I was an atheist and today I am a Christian, and in fifteen years, who knows, I may be something else. I bring my rational mind and natural skepticism to my liberal Christianity. To my rational and scientific self, I bring a softness of heart, and an awareness of the mystery that runs throughout all things--yet is best expressed through metaphor, poetry and silence.

For many of us, finding Unitarian Universalism is like coming home to ourselves. It's like meeting ourselves again, for the first time. There's a heady freedom in Unitarian Universalism when we realize we are released from the shackles of a faith that doesn't fit anymore. Our minds are free to roam--we're encouraged to change, to explore, to try out new ideas. Suddenly, the religious landscape is not barren, but filled with a thousand flowers, blooming and we want to smell and appreciate the beauty of each one. Our faith is elastic enough to encompass those who enjoy wandering through the garden, appreciating the beauty of the whole, or those, who, like me, may appreciate the overall beauty of the garden, but want to study one particular flower. Unitarian Universalism also provides a path for those who want to take out their notebooks and delve more deeply into one tradition--one flower; knowing all its parts, being able to identify it's habits and traditions, sitting with one bloom or one practice through all its cycles.

For me, finding Unitarian Universalism first, gave me the freedom to discover what a liberal Christianity could look like. Certainly there are plenty of guides, within our own faith tradition. Michael Servetus, author of "On the Errors of the Trinity" and whom we heard from this morning, lived in 16th century Spain, Paris and Geneva, was one of the earliest heretics to question the traditional understanding of what it meant to be a Christian. In his day, there were very specific rules that defined you as a Christian and woe to the man who challenged orthodoxy. He called the crude and popular conception of the trinity a three headed Cerberus--which is the dog-like creature of the underworld in Greek mythology. He did not believe that people were totally depraved, believing rather that grace abounds and human beings need only the intelligence and free will to grasp it. And he believed that it was not the religion that has sprung up about Jesus that was so important--but the religion of Jesus that mattered.

Surely there are other prophets just as great. Certainly there are other women and men who preached essentially the same thing. Someone wanted to know--but why, with so many other great teachers out there--why settle for Christianity? Or, as one friend asked me "why on earth would you want to put yourself under the same name as claimed by Pat Robertson; or James Dobson?" That's a tough one, I must admit, however, I refuse to have my understanding of Christianity defined by the fundamentalists. Some Christians, actually, perhaps many, are simply trying to live out the doctrine that Jesus taught. It's not all that complicated. The things he said. The things he did. He didn't die for our sins as we've been taught to believe. He died because he refused to recant his belief in the inherent worth and dignity of all people. He died because he loved too much, not because he judged too harshly. And the Bible is not an infallible cookbook for living a moral life--it's full of human beings making both wise and foolish decisions--full of people who lived thousands of years ago, who were in awe of the movement of the stars in the heavens; who were grateful for fresh springs of water in the desert; who fell down on their knees in the presence of tall trees and a solar eclipse; people who were flawed and made mistakes and asked for forgiveness--people just like us. It's a book full of people who, in their time, tried to make sense out of the mysteries of birth and death, of hope and hopelessness, of poverty and injustice, of war and of peace; of love and of God. Though I know there are many books and many prophets and many religions out there, I have chosen to cast my lot with this rag-a-tag bunch of wandering Jews whose story, for better or worse, is caught up in my story, as a Unitarian Universalist.

And I chose to cast my lot with a Michael Servetus, who carried his book "The Errors of the Trinity" into the flames with him, and Margaret Fuller, who insisted that women had brains to be used; and Emerson, whose vision of the religious life expanded to include Rumie Hafiz and Mohammed; and yes, my vision of what it means to be religious grows with help of the Humanist Manifesto and the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans and the Buddhist Fellowship, for all these hyphenated UU's carry with them the thread of wonder, the history of mystery, the expansive sense of what it means to be human, and in my case, what it means to be in relationship to God--the greatest mystery of them all.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable--someplace else?" someone delicately suggests when she discovers I'm a Christian Unitarian Universalist. "Perhaps with the United Church of Christ--also known as Unitarians Considering Christ?" "No," I say, "for this is home, and home is where we belong." Whatever your theological persuasion--whatever your hope or your dream or your secret thoughts or your professed belief, may you find a home here, and may it claim you and you--it. Amen, and may be it be so.