We left the motel in Greenfield, crossed Interstate 91, and headed east on Route 2, the Mohawk Trail. Carol started playing the last bit of the Trollope novel we’ve been listening to on this trip. The road wound through some old paper mill towns along the river, and then up into the hills of central Massachusetts. Although I’m not usually sentimental, I did take a detour off the main highway into downtown Athol, past the little church where I was ordained; it looked neater and better-maintained than ever, and the signs out front had been renovated and repainted. The Trollope novel reached its inevitable conclusion, although it took forever for Will and Clara to finally get married, and we had to listen as Will crushed her passionately in his arms and kiss her brow, her cheeks, her lips; it was not a very satisfying novel, but it was good enough that we had to listen to the very end of it. At last the novel was done, and we wound down through the hills towards Concord, and met my dad at the house of Deacon Miller of First Parish of Concord. Deacon Miller is not a bit like the deacons they had 350 years ago at First Parish of Concord; first of all, she’s a woman (which would have been unthinkable in the 17th century); and she is a self-described Jewish atheist deacon (equally unthinkable in the 17th century). Carol and Deacon Miller and dad and I all sat down to a lovely dinner, and that was the official end of our cross-country trip.

After driving a couple of hours or so, we stopped at a rest area in upstate New York. A local farm had set up a table outside the rest area, and a young woman sold us locally-grown fruit: raspberries, cherries, and apricots. Carol said she liked the New York apricots better than the California apricots we had gotten on the first day of our trip. I contented myself with eating a generous half-pint of raspberries; to my way of thinking, there is no fruit quite so satisfying as freshly-picked raspberries.

We continued to listen to the audio recording of Anthony Trollope’s The Belton Estate. At about the time the old squire dies, the story loses energy. Carol said she guessed Trollope must have gotten paid by the word. Yet we kept on listening, even though the book grew almost dull in places, because we wanted to find out what happens to the characters.

We passed through the tail ends of the Adirondack Mountains, then dropped down to wind along the Mohawk River and the course of the old Erie Canal. We skirted around the horrible traffic jam headed north on Interstate 87, presumably people heading north to spend the long weekend in the Adirondacks, and kept going until we reached the Berkshires. We passed under the Appalachian Trail, and past a sign that told us we were at the highest point on Interstate 90 since South Dakota, at an elevation of 1,724 feet above sea level.

The woman who checked us into our motel here in Greenfield told us that there would be fireworks tonight at 9:30, and she told us how to get there. We had decided not to go. But we went out at 9:30, and walked up the hill from the motel to a nearby mall. There were half a dozen cars parked in the otherwise empty parking lot, with people sitting in them. We turned around, and there were the first fireworks shooting up into the night sky. A family got out of one of the cars to watch: two parents, and two children dressed in pajamas. It was a good vantage point from which to watch the fireworks.

We had a long talk with Christine, the owner of the bed and breakfast where we stayed last night. She told us about a program she was involved in creating some years ago, an after school program for Latino/a high school youth, designed to help children of recent immigrants stay in school; it has since evolved, and now has the young people involved in creating video documentaries.

Not long after leaving the bed and breakfast, we saw an Amish horse and buggy driving across an overpass above us. I knew that the Amish were in other parts of Indiana — my sister sees them regularly in eastern Indiana where she lives — so I shouldn’t have been surprised to see them in this part of the state.

Since reaching the outskirts of Chicago yesterday, I’ve noticed a definite increase in the aggressiveness, and decrease in courtesy, of motorists. It was even more pronounced today. Nor is it simply a matter of urban vs. rural drivers, because the drivers in the empty spaces of Interstate 90 through Indiana and Ohio are just as nasty as the drivers near Chicago. People in California complain about the bad drivers there, but the worst Bay Area drivers strike me as more polite than most eastern drivers. Consider this a cultural boundary dividing the West from the East.

By now, the scenery is more familiar to me; I’ve taken the Lakeshore Limited train along this same route several times, and driven it several times. The green rolling fields and woodlands of northern Indiana and Ohio; the suburban and urban areas around Cleveland; the occasional glimpses of Lake Erie; the vineyards of northwestern Pennsylvania — all these look familiar, and their familiarity meant that I didn’t particularly notice them. Instead, Carol and I listened to an audio recording of Anthony Trollope’s The Belton Estate. The uncertain course of Clara Amedroz’s love; the miscalculations of her lovers Will Belton and Frederic Aylmer; the querulous anger of Clara’s father; the surprising will of Mrs. Winterfield, which Mr. Amedroz proclaimed to be “wicked, very wicked”; all this captured my attention rather than the scenery.

We arrived in Fredonia, New York, where we’re spending the night, at about seven. We’re in an old hotel in the village center, and we wandered around a little bit before we sat down to eat. Fredonia has a town green with churches clustered round it, a Main Street with old substantial-looking brick and stone buildings, and tree-lined streets with comfortable modest houses. Carol said that it looked like a town in the northeast. It’s clear that we are getting ever closer to New England.

We stayed in the Northrup Ofetdahl House in Owatonna, Minnesota, last night. The house is still owned by the Northrup family, and the room we stayed in was named after F. S. C. Northrup, a now-obscure mid-20th century American philosopher who once hobnobbed with the likes of Whitehead, Wittgenstein, Schroedinger, and Mao Tse-Tung.

Crossing from Minnesota to Wisconsin along Interstate 90, you wind down steep dramatic bluffs, some hundreds of feet high, to the Mississippi River, across the several channels of the river, thence into Wisconsin. The interesting landscape continues into Wisconsin, with odd-looking hills shaped by glaciation, and some curious standing rock formations cut out of sedimentary rock by erosion.

We had a long drive today, so we didn’t stop but just kept driving. We drove south into Illinois, crossed the Fox River — we lived for a year just a few blocks from the Fox River in Geneva, Illinois — and into the Chicago suburbs. It was rush hour, and we hit the first heavy traffic since leaving the Bay area some two thousand miles ago. Finally we made it to La Porte, in the northwest corner of Indiana, an hour later than we had hoped.

We went into downtown La Porte for dinner tonight. Carol said, “Let’s go into that place,” pointing to the Temple News Agency. It was not just a news stand, it was also a soda fountain, coffee shop, and used book store. They had a piano in one room, and while we sat eating our sandwiches, two girls, about eight and ten years old, each played something on the piano from memory (the ten year old was pretty good). Half a dozen guitars and a couple of microphone stands were near the piano. I wandered around looking at used books, and discovered that they had about fifty old high school year books available for customers to look through (but not purchase). Temple News Agency is a perfect example of Midwestern Eccentric; their Web page declares, “We’re kinda like a zoo for people.” I have to admit, I felt very comfortable there.

And who found the place? Carol, of course. She has a nose for that kind of thing.

We made a side trip to Minneapolis this evening. I went to a Sacred Harp singing at the University Baptist Church next to the University of Minnesota campus, while Carol explored that neighborhood, which is called “Dinkytown.”

Each local Sacred Harp singing is a little different, with different customs and singing styles; a sociologist or anthropologist could probably do an interesting study, if there were one who cared. This local singing was louder than the one at Berkeley, there are more of them, and they don’t take turns leading songs as we do but anyone jumps up when the spirit moves them.

During the break, I talked with a man who apparently had been one of the founding members of the group. He told me they had a strong connection with traditional Sacred Harp singers from the South. “The South is the real tradition,” said another man, and the first man nodded. It’s the old argument in folk music circles: are traditional musicians the only true interpreters of a tradition, or can urban revivalists sing genuine folk music? –should folk traditions remain fairly static, or should they evolve? –can new regional styles be considered legitimate, or are they merely poor imitations of the older regional styles? The two Minnesota signers I talked with clearly felt that traditional signers are the true interpreters of a tradition, that urban revivalists should imitate traditional singers closely, and that folk traditions should remain fairly static. I listened and didn’t say anything; but I’m never comfortable with arguments about “correct” forms of folk music; it sounds too much like doctrines and creeds, and I’m a determined non-creedalist.

While I was singing away, Carol rented a bicycle from Nice Ride, Minneapolis’s public bike sharing program, and rode around the neighborhood. Then the two of us checked out a bookstore, and headed back to our bed and breakfast.

From central Nebraska east towards Iowa, the landscape gradually changes from the vast open spaces of the Great Plains to the rolling farmlands of the Midwest. We left behind the graze lands with beef cattle spotted here and there, we left behind the occasional stock yard. A big sign on the highway at the eastern boundary of Kearney County proclaimed the end of the cattle brand inspection zone, and I figured that was as good a boundary as any between cattle country, and the land of corn and soybeans.

From Ogallala to the Missouri River at the Iowa state line, the interstate highway generally follows the route of the North Platte River, and then the Platte River after the confluence with the South Platte. Here’s how Francis Parkman described his first look at the Platte River in this book The Oregon Trail:

A low undulating line of sand-hills bounded the horizon before us. That day we rode ten consecutive hours, and it was dusk before we entered the hollows and gorges of these gloomy little hills. At length we gained the summit, and the long expected valley of the Platte lay before us. We all drew rein, and, gathering in a knot on the crest of the hill, sat joyfully looking down upon the prospect. It was right welcome; strange too, and striking to the imagination, and yet it had not one picturesque or beautiful feature; nor had it any of the features of grandeur, other than its vast extent, its solitude, and its wilderness. For league after league a plain as level as a frozen lake was outspread beneath us; here and there the Platte, divided into a dozen threadlike sluices, was traversing it, and an occasional clump of wood, rising in the midst like a shadowy island, relieved the monotony of the waste….

Today, a state highway goes along the other side of the Platte from the interstate, and a main line of the Union Pacific railroad follows the same general route. All these roads pass through or by a string of cities and towns: Gothenburg, Kearney, Cozad, Lincoln. Compared to the East Coast or the West Coast, the highway corridor is lightly populated; but compared to the days when the Oregon Trail ran along the same general route, it has become a settled, civilized landscape.

We went across the Missouri into Iowa. Carol and I both noticed that the town of Avoca, Iowa, had been circled in my 2004 edition of the United States Road Atlas. But neither of us could remember why Avoca had been circled. Carol thought maybe someone we had met on our drive from California to Illinois in 2004 had suggested we visit Avoca. We took the Avoca exit, and drove a short distance to a small, friendly-looking Midwestern town. We saw nothing remarkable. I took a photograph of the grain elevator, just to show we had been there.

We arrived here in Ames, Iowa, at about six this evening. We’re staying at Onion Creek Farm Guest House. Joe, one of the owners, took us on a tour of the farm. He said they sell mostly to restaurants. We saw tomatoes, potatoes, squash, onions, leeks, garlic, basil, beans, kale, radishes, lettuce, carrots, amaranth, and other vegetables I can’t remember. He sold us some beans and eggs from their chickens, which we ate for supper.

One of the fields at Onion Creek Farm

When we first got on the road, I noticed that there seemed to be as many semi trailer rigs as other vehicles. I decided to count to see if my estimate was right. In the time I counted five smaller vehicles (a car, two RVs, two pickup trucks pulling trailers), I counted 27 semi-trailers. I started wondering how much of each highway tax dollar goes to subsidize the trucking industry.

Carol found out about Hobo Hot Springs, so we drove south from the interstate to Saratoga, Wyoming, to visit them. Carol said that the Indians sold the hot springs to white people with the condition that the hot springs be open year round, 24 hours a day. We found the hot spring down a side street, past the public fishing access point on the North Platte River, in behind the municipal swimming pool. While Carol soaked in the hot springs, I walked around the town, across the river, and over to Veteran’s Island Park. When i got back, Carol was ready to get out of the hot springs: the water was too hot, and you had to sit in the direct sun besides.

Carol had ice cream, and I had a sandwich, in the center of the town. We took a walk around town to stretch our legs, and Carol spotted a geodesic dome green house. An older couple was out working in their garden next to the green house. Carol struck up a conversation with the woman, whose name was Kay, and got us an invitation to see the inside of the green house. While she and Kay went inside to look at the orange tree, I talked Lee, her husband. He said the growing season there went from the first of June to early September. He had a small apple tree, a variety called “Sweet 16” which I have never heard of, one of the few varieties hardy enough for their climate.

Kay asked us each our names, and went inside our house. She came out in a moment and gave us each a small New Testament. “He’s a Gideon,” she said, pointing to Lee, “the ones who place Bibles in all the hotels.” She told us about all their activities distributing Bibles. “This is the King James Version,” she said, pointing to the Bibles she gave us, “because that’s the one that’s acceptable to most denominations.” Carol told her I was a minister, and she was a little taken aback, but I said I was glad to get a copy of the King James version as I had recently given my copy away — which was true, I frequently give away copies of the Bible to Unitarian Universalists who say they’d like to finally read the Bible. “Well, it’s just the New Testament,” she said, “it doesn’t have the Old Testament”; but I said that was fine with me.

We talked a little while longer. They want the green house to grow food year round, because they worry that things might fall apart and they might have to become self-reliant. Then we said our good byes, and headed on our way.

The road climbed up out of Laramie, and at last we saw a sign that said “ELEV. 8640.” It’s all down hill from here, I thought to myself.

We’re spending the night in Ogallala, Nebraska. We just walked down to the North Platte River, and watched the Cliff Swallows swarming around the bridge at sunset:

We left Winnemuca late, just after ten this morning. East of Winnemuca, the scenery is spectacular: wide, flat basins divided from one another by mountain ranges. We stopped briefly in Valmy, Nevada. One building houses the gas station, the restaurant, the convenience store, a few slot machines, the bar, and the U.S. post office. There was a small motel next door, with what looked to be only four units. The whole complex appeared to be for sale. We bought a few postcards — one of the ones I chose showed a dessicated skeleton lying in the dessert, the other showed a jackalope — and mailed them.

Elko is a small relaxed city with broad streets and a mix of older buildings and new buildings. We stopped in at the Western Folklife Center’s gift store. I looked at their books; they had lots of books of cowboy poetry, and quite a few books on Basque culture. I bought a book about a potter who decided to live in the backcountry of Nevada with his wife and school-aged boys. We ate lunch at the Blind Onion, which was mostly empty even though it was one in the afternoon.

We ground up the grade to Pequop summit, 6,967 feet above sea level. New Englander that I am, I couldn’t help thinking that if you rotated the final letter of “Pequop” 180 degrees, you’d get the name of Captain Ahab’s whale ship.

We had to stop at the Great Salt Flats rest stop, just over the border in Utah. While we were wandering over the salt flats, we watched as a west-bound Union Pacific train pulled into a siding while another UP train sped east on the main line.

Carol looking at the mixed freight in the siding.

Climbing out of Salt Lake City, the highway wound up a canyon. After the deserts of northern Nevada, and after the Great Salt Flats, I was amazed at how green everything was in the Wasatch Mountains. We stopped in Park City, Utah, for a break. The beautiful green mountainsides were dotted with pretentious over-done houses, tasteful McMansions winding up the mountainsides below the ski slopes. Upscale malls were everywhere. We stopped to get coffee in a chain store — my decaf tasted burnt and bitter, and I wound up throwing it out — and I read the local paper: a reckless skiing case resulted in a non-context plea; more businesses close on Main Street (we couldn’t find Main Street amongst all the malls, so it’s no wonder); a ribbon-cutting at a housing complex for people who work in support jobs; a woman drove a car (specified as a “BMW 5 series”) into a local reservoir. I found Park City oppressive, and was glad when we drove on.

The spectacular beauty of the Wasatch Mountains blended into the spacious beauty of western Wyoming, with its wide-open skies, purple mountains in the distance, strange rock formations, and farms of huge white spinning wind turbines. The sun set about nine o’clock, and the sky was still a little bit light when we pulled into Rock Springs, Wyoming, at ten. A big full moon lit up the sky.

Thunder Mountain Monument, off Interstate 80, near Imlay, Nevada. This monument, created by Frank Dean van Zant, is a five-acre site filled with outsider art. Van Zant built the monument to honor Native American peoples.

Loading up the car in San Mateo, it was cool and cloudy. We drove through the usual insane Bay area morning traffic, up through Berkeley and Richmond, and began climbing up through the Coastal Range. The clouds grew thinner and thinner, until by the time we reached Concord, we were driving under a cloudless sky. The hills were a crisp golden brown.

We descended out of the Coastal Range onto the flat plain of the Central Valley. Carol saw a sign: Local Cherries, Take Dixon Exit. We took the exit and bought cherries, apricots, plums, and some tree nuts at Dixon Fruit Stand. I was trying to figure out the ethnicity of the woman who waited on us when I saw a newspaper clipping on the wall, telling how a family escaped from Iran and bought out the venerable Dixon Fruit Stand.

We ran into cloud cover again he Sierra Nevadas, and a few sprinkles of rain. We stopped at a MacDonalds fast food joint, mostly to use the bathroom. The french fries had been cooked in stale oil that tasted of hash browns, onion rings, and other things we couldn’t put a name to. There was still some snow on the high peaks in the Sierras, and the driving was, as usual, unpleasant, as cars tried to dodge around big trucks that ground slowly up the steep grades.

We stopped in downtown Reno at 4 p.m. for a cheap meal. We took a walk and came across a tiny residential neighborhood in the shadow of one of the big casinos. One house was particularly attractive. We stopped to admire it, and a good-looking pug dog came out to challenge us. “Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless,” said the man sitting on the porch. Carol asked if she could pet him, and the man said it would be fine. We asked him about his house.

House on Ralston St., Reno, between 3rd and 4th Ave.

The man said his house was one of the older houses in Reno. “This walking tour came around, and they said the house was completed in September of 1876,” he said. “It’s one of the seven oldest houses left in Reno.” A young man walked up carrying a fishing rod, and the pug dog started barking frantically at him. “Stop it, Chuckles,” said the man. We stopped and talked for a while longer, and I asked for permission to photograph the house. “Sure,” he said, “and I’ll get out of the picture so it looks good.”

The cloud cover continued as we drove through the high desert of the Great Basin, and a few spatters of rain hit the windshield. The sage brush was as green as I have ever seen it, and the whole landscape looked fresh and alive — by desert standards, anyway. We were driving through the Forty Mile Desert, and we saw pools of standing water in among the stands of rushes, and the patches of white alkali dust.

Mark Twain crossed the Forty Mile Desert by stage coach in 1861, and he described his crossing: ” On the nineteenth day we crossed the Great American Desert–forty memorable miles of bottomless sand, into which the coach wheels sunk from six inches to a foot. We worked our passage most of the way across. That is to say, we got out and walked. It was a dreary pull and a long and thirsty one, for we had no water. From one extremity of this desert to the other, the road was white with the bones of oxen and horses. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that we could have walked the forty miles and set our feet on a bone at every step! The desert was one prodigious graveyard. And the log-chains, wagon tyres, and rotting wrecks of vehicles were almost as thick as the bones. I think we saw log-chains enough rusting there in the desert, to reach across any State in the Union. Do not these relics suggest something of an idea of the fearful suffering and privation the early emigrants to California endured?”

A half an hour before we got to Winnemucca, our stopping place for the night, we stopped at Thunder Mountain Monument — see the photographs in the subsequent blog post.

In her first post at the new blog yUU’re a what?, blogger cUrioUs gUUrl talks about how she was a humanist until she had an experience of God a year ago. Speaking from personal experience, those transcendental experiences do have a way of breaking in on you and throwing into doubt long-held assumptions and beliefs. I look forward to seeing how this new blog develops.

UU World magazine will be doing online coverage of the 2010 General Assembly (GA) of the Unitarian Universalist Association on their General Assembly blog. Yesterday’s post provides convenient links to video streaming.

So far, I am not clear which bloggers will be blogging GA — if you know of someone blogging GA, please leave a link in the comments. With luck, bloggers will tag their GA posts — as a suggestion, the tag “uuaga10” would be consistent with past GA blogging tags.

Update: Bloggers who tag with “uuaga10” will be aggregated on the UUpdates Web site at the following URL:
http://uupdates.net/index.php?main=tags&tag=uuaga10

Chris Walton points out the Twitter users are using the hashtag “#uuaga” and you can follow those tweets at the following URL:
http://twitter.com/#search?q=%23uuaga

Kinsi is blogging frequently at Spirituality and Sunflowers, and his well-written personal coverage helps round out the reporting at UU World.

Three of us were driving across the Dumbarton Bridge from the Peninsula to the East Bay. As we came up over the height of the bridge, my eyes were drawn to the golden-brown Hayward Hills.

“The hills are brown,” I said, and sighed. “Summer’s really here.” I don’t like

“They were still green just a few weeks ago,” said Marsha.

“Well, our last rain was in, what, late May?” I said.

“The rains ended unusually late this year,” said Marsha, who grew up in California.

Julian sat and listened to us. He has just moved here from western Massachusetts, where it remains green all summer long.

In case you’ve forgotten, Pee-On-Earth Day (in the northern hemisphere) is tomorrow, June 21, the date of the summer solstice. According to my partner, Carol, describes it: “Pee-On-Earth Day is a day to bring your urine outside to nourish plants and avoid using water to flush your toilet! Fertilize plants with your urine’s nitrogen and phosphorus. PEECYCLE either directly or by depositing your contribution in a container you take outside….”

Carol’s favorite way to peecycle at our house by pouring the pee into our compost pile — it doesn’t smell, and we wind up with nitrogen-rich compost. Look for the Pee-On-Earth Day fact sheet on Carol’s Web site for more ideas on how to peecycle.

And yes, Pee-On-Earth Day is my favorite summer holiday, mostly because I get to make lots of pee jokes.

(1) A comparison of New Orleans weather with Bay area weather: When we walked into the terminal at the New Orleans at about seven this morning, it was already hot and humid, 80 degrees with a dew point of 74; when we arrived at San Francisco airport, it was cool, almost chilly, and dry, at 63 degrees and a 29 mile per hour wind, with a dew point of 48. Given the weather we’re accustomed to, no wonder we had problems with the heat this past week.

(2) You know it’s a good trip when the final leg of your flight is delayed two hours, but you don’t really mind because you so enjoy the company of the people with whom you’re traveling.

And one last bonus thought: While in New Orleans, I read the New Orleans Times Picayune every day, and they have absolutely the best coverage on the BP oil spill, combining repressed righteous anger with good solid reporting. Read their oil spill coverage online at NOLA.com.

On the last day of our New Orleans service trip, we had a short work day. One crew went off to Green Light again; another crew to the Animal Rescue League of New Orleans; and Dave and I stayed at the Center for Ethical Living to finish up one last project.

The Green Light crew went off to St. Bernard Parish to install compact fluorescent bulbs. They discovered that in St. Bernard Parish, swampland comes right up to the road in many places. At the one house they managed to work at, the owner told them that that area was under ten feet of water after the hurricanes in 2005. Our crew saw bare foundations where houses were simply washed away by the flood.

This afternoon, most of our group went in to the French Quarter of New Orleans for a walking tour, though a few of us stayed behind to take a nap. Then all but three of us went to get dinner and hear live music in the French Quarter. We get up at five tomorrow morning, so I’m staying behind in the dorm so I can get enough sleep to make sure we get on the flight and make our connections; two other people who are particularly tired are also staying behind for a little sleep.

Later note: The three of us who stayed behind went for dinner at Pyramids Cafe, just five blocks from the Center for Ethical Living, for a good inexpensive dinner; then we went to The Camellia Grill to get a banana cream pie and an apple pie to bring back to share with everyone else.

Last post in the trip diary.

“Safety Net,” a ministry of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Nashville, Tennessee, has made excellent suggestions for changes to the professional guidelines of the Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association (UUMA). Of particular note is a suggested revision to a clause of the guidelines that asks ministers to “strictly respect confidences given me by colleagues and expect them to keep mine.” This clause is legally and morally indefensible, for it means that if another minister came to me and told me “in confidence” that s/he had engaged in sexual behavior with a legal minor, I would violate the UUMA guidelines when I reported him/her to legal authorities. To state the obvious: in California, I am a mandated reporter and would be legally required to report any suspected child abuse, whether or not I was prohibited from doing so by UUMA guidelines — more importantly, as a human being, I am morally required to report any suspected child abuse, again regardless of UUMA guidelines.

This and the other revisions proposed by Safety Net are excellent. The UUMA should adopt them as soon as possible. You can read the full text of the revisions here, and an explanatory open letter to the UUMA here.

We split into three crews today, on our sixth day of our New Orleans service trip. One crew went to Animal Rescue of New Orleans (ARNO), the local no-kill animal shelter. It turns out ARNO has only one paid staffer, and relies on volunteers for just about everything else. In a city where volunteers are already maxed out, it must be tough to be so reliant on volunteers. And we’ve all heard how animals had to be abandoned by those fleeing the city, so working at ARNO feels like we’re supporting the overall volunteer effort.

A recent issue of Christian Century magazine carried an article on short-term service trips. Many people who go on service trips feel strongly that they must see tangible results, regardless of what the community they’re serving happens to need:

Noel Becchetti of the Center for Student Missions tells of a local pastor in Mexico who tries to get visiting teams to help with his mission of outreach to men. Some teams, however, are dead set on building something: they want to see some (literally) concrete results. So the pastor has a wall that he has such teams work on. He has no idea what the wall will ever be or become, but building it keeps the visiting teams busy and out of his hair, and at the end of their time they can rejoice and be glad that they accomplished something tangible…. [“Misguided Missions: Ten Worst Practices,” by Mark W. Radecke, 18 May 2010 issue]

I think that many volunteers who go to New Orleans to help with the rebuilding effort think that they should literally be rebuilding, and they are disappointed if that’s not what they do. But in a stressed city like this, there’s so much to do that what’s most important is to ask the people who are in the place you’re serving what they need done — and then do it, cheerfully.

Our second crew went back to Green Light today to install compact fluorescent bulbs in people’s houses. I was on the third crew. We went back to help out the Growing Homes program, finishing up the planting that we had started yesterday. It took us all morning to finish, and when we got done Mrs. Washington fed us hamburgers and hot dogs for lunch (our vegans had to eat potato chips and wait to eat lunch). Several members of Mrs. Washington’s extended family, along with her two sons, sat down while we ate, and we had a good time talking.

After lunch, we came back to the Center for Ethical Living and did some repair work here. We also began putting mattress covers on the foam mattresses in the home-made bunk beds in our dorm rooms; we will complete that task tomorrow.

The Center staff did a final debriefing session with us before dinner. They asked us each to say a high point and a low point of the past week, and then say what we’re going to bring back home with us. What I said was this: my high point was the people, both the New Orleans residents like Mrs. Washington whom I got to meet, and the other relief workers whom I met here (Americorps volunteers, people who moved down here to help rebuild, etc.), and also the people in our group whom I got to know better; my low point was the day I didn’t drink enough water and got overheated; and what I’m going to bring back with me is ideas of what we can do where we live, considering how bad the finances of the state of California are, and how many state-funded services (schools, etc.) are being cut.

Tonight, everyone else is going to the French Quarter to eat begniets and see the sights. I’m going to head off early to bed; I’ll be getting up in the middle of the night to drive one of our people to the airport because she has to leave a day early.

Next post in the trip diary.

We were assigned to two different jobs today, on our service trip to New Orleans. One crew went to work at Rev. Josie’s food pantry, bagging groceries for people in need to pick up. The second crew went to work for Growing Home; I was part of the second group.

Growing Home is a non-profit agency that helps people claim vacant houses next door to them. According to their Web site: “Buy the lot next door, beautify it, and we’ll deduct money off the purchase price. The Growing Home program of New Orleans would like to help. Through Growing Home you can receive up to a $10,000 discount off the cost of a qualifying Lot Next Door for landscaping improvements that you make to the property.”

We went to the house of a Mrs. Washington, who was improving the lot next to hers with the help of Growing Home. Abigail, a landscape architect who works with Growing Home, had designed some nice plantings, and we began digging out plots for the plantings. After we had been working for about two and a half hours, a thunderstorm moved in, and after waiting half an hour we decided to take our lunch break. It just poured buckets of rain, maybe three inches in an hour. When the rain finally stopped, all the areas we had dug out were filled with water.

We figured out a way to keep working, which meant getting incredibly dirty. (Some of our crew took pictures of us at the end of the work day, and I will try to post some of them here eventually so you can see just how dirty we were.) Abigail had to get a truck load of soil for us, then some drainage gravel, and by the time moving the dirt and gravel it was 5:30 and past time to knock off work. We promised her we’d go back tomorrow morning for a few hours to finish the last remaining plantings.

Unfortunately, Rev. Josie’s food pantry had so many volunteers that they only had three hours of work for our other crew. They came back here and basically had nothing to do, which was disheartening. We’re going to have a meeting tonight to see if we can figure out a way to become more effective.

Next post in the trip diary.

Today we split into three crews on our service trip here in New Orleans. One crew, with eight people, went back to Blair Grocery, where they put in a border around a garden plot to keep out weeds. One crew, with four people, went to work with Green Light, installing free compact fluorescent bulbs in houses where the owners had requested them. The third crew, with four people, stayed here at the Center for Ethical Living to help out with some much-needed maintenance work here where we’re staying. I worked on this third crew.

The Center for Ethical Living is definitely understaffed, and basically all staff time goes towards supporting the volunteers who come to stay here. That means that the volunteers who stay here do most of the custodial work, so the first thing we did today was to give all three bathrooms a thorough scrubbing, scrub the floors, and so on. We moved a broken freezer down from the second floor to the curb for pick up, reorganized the linen storage, and did some other miscellaneous tasks the Center staff asked us to do. The four of us — Alexa, Sam, Jo, and I — worked our butts off. I was even sore at the end of the day.

Tonight after dinner, most of our crew went off to take the St. Charles Streetcar, which is apparently the oldest street railway in continuous operation in the United States; it began running in 1832, is now powered by electricity, but the cars were originally drawn by horses. They rode the line from its terminus at Claiborne and Carrollton to Camilla’s, a popular eating spot.

Next post in the trip diary.

Peter Morales, the president of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA), has proposed another option for the 2012 General Assembly (GA) of the Association. As various organizations organize to boycott Arizona over the enactment of SB 1070, delegates to this year’s General Assembly will be voting on whether to move the 2012 GA away from Phoenix in order to participate in the boycott. Morales has been in communication with Puente and the National Day Laborers Organizing Network (NDLON), two organizations that organized the protests in Arizona over Memorial Day weekend, and “we have received an invitation from Puente and NDLON to partner with them and to make our General Assembly in 2012 something far more than a normal GA.” Pablo Alvarado, director of NDLON, and Salvador Reza of Puente, sent a letter to Morales which said in part:

There will still be much to witness about in 2012. While SB1070 may be overturned by then, we anticipate that there will still be a terrible situation to deal with here in Arizona. The Ethnic Studies legislation that was recently passed needs to be overturned and there is currently proposed legislation that would mandate that children born in the U.S. of undocumented parents not be accepted as citizens. Meanwhile Sheriff Joe Arpaio and others will continue to deputize volunteers eager to enforce immigration law and terrorize our community. We need the faith community here to stand in solidarity with our movement and to galvanize others to condemn this growing human rights crisis and create a climate that welcomes and supports migratory families.

We ask that your 2012 General Assembly here in Phoenix be a convergence in cooperation with us and that together we design the best ways that UUs can witness, learn from, take action, and serve the movement here….

I have to say, I think this is an invitation we should accept. Not that you should listen to my opinion, which is fairly useless. Instead, you can read Morales’s complete statement here.

Day 3 of our service trip to New Orleans

Our work assignment today was at Our School at Blair Grocery in the Lower Ninth Ward. Ten years ago, Blair Grocery had been a grocery, but it went out of business a decade or so ago. In 2008, a school was established to serve young people from the Lower Ninth Ward who basically hadn’t gone to school since Hurricane Katrina. A big part of the curriculum of the school is urban farming, and they sell the produce and eggs they raise in the neighborhood. So the people running Blair Grocery are not only addressing education through youth empowerment, they’re also addressing food security in the Lower Ninth Ward, a part of New Orleans that still doesn’t have a supermarket.

We were assigned two tasks at the beginning of the day. Carol, Maya, Nina, and I went to work on their main compost windrow, which was ten feet high, twenty feet wide, and perhaps fifty feet long. It was spreading out too much so we put up a fence made of pallets to contain one of the long sides. Then we climbed up on top of the heap and began shoveling the pile down against the fence. Compost piles get pretty hot — this one was steaming — and the day was blazing hot, so we took it easy so we didn’t get too overheated.

Blair Grocery is working several empty lots in the Lower Ninth. If you pay taxes on a vacant lot for three years in New Orleans, you wind up owning the lot. Blair Grocery has found some empty lots that are unlikely to be claimed by the old owners, and has been building gardens on them. The soil is not very good, so they truck in composted manure to grow vegetables in. The other group used wheelbarrows to move composted manure from one lot, where there is an established garden, to a new lots they’re now working. When it got too hot to work on the big compost windrow, some of us went over to help with this project. After lunch, we worked on several different things: sifting compost, rebuilding a wood rack

It’s amazing how many empty lots and empty houses there are in the Lower Ninth. This used to be a neighborhood where the houses are close enough together that you could talk with your neighbors next door through an open window; now only one house in ten is occupied, and it seems like more than half the lots no longer have houses. On many blocks, there’s only one occupied house.

We felt good about what we did today. Working at Blair Grocery seemed like a good way to support the community in the Lower Ninth Ward, which was one of the hardest-hit parts of the city, and which has been one of the slowest to recover.

Next post in the trip diary.

It’s late at night, so just a quick summary:

We attended worship this morning with First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans. We got to meet people from the two other groups that are here volunteering through the Center for Ethical Living and Social Justice Renewal:– the youth group from the Columbus, Ohio, Unitarian Universalist church, and youth and adults from the Monterey Unitarian Universalist church.

In the afternoon, we received a general orientation, and then cultural sensitivity training, particularly around issues of race, and the peculiarities of New Orleans culture.

This evening, we finally got out work assignments. Work assignments will include Blair Grocery, Rev. Josie’s Food Pantry, Animal Rescue of New Orleans, Green Light, and Growing Home. More on our assignments later.

Next post in the trip diary.

“25 Tires | Kid’s Ain’t Angry for Nothin”

Near the 3rd Ward

We arrived in New Orleans about three hours ago, rented our cars, and got to First Unitarian Universalist Church of New Orleans where we’ll be staying. On the plane here, I wound up sitting next to two women from New Orleans. They told us about all the good cheap places to eat, talked about how angry they are with BP, and told me a little bit about how the continued cleanup is going.

Tomorrow, we will attend an orientation session with the groups from the UU churches in Monterey, Calif., and Columbus, Ohio. We will get our final work assignments then.

Next post in the trip diary.

Tomorrow morning, I’m heading off to New Orleans with our church youth group to participate in rebuilding work. Yes, New Orleans is still being rebuilt after Hurricane Katrina. Now, we will not be cleaning up the BP oil spill — apparently volunteers aren’t allowed to work on cleaning up the oil yet (’cause, ya know, BP is doing such a good job on its own).

Will post more from new Orleans beginning tomorrow evening….

Next post in the trip diary.

As I watch the debates on whether to move the 2012 General Assembly (GA) of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) out of Arizona because of the boycott stemming from Arizona SB 1070, I am reminded that financial budgets are in fact expressions of our goals and dreams.

The current conflict about whether or not to move the 2012 GA will come to a vote at this year’s GA, which will take place in Minneapolis June 23-27. If there were no budget implications — if it cost nothing to move General Assembly in 2012 –there would be little discussion about whether to move it or not. But it will cost money to move GA in 2012; and the current UUA budget is tight to begin with, with layoffs and cuts for the past two years.

We’re seeing budget battles playing out in many local congregations right now. Many congregations have seen revenue drop over the past two years of the Great Recession, and most of those congregations have had to make budget cuts. What do you do when you have to choose between a paying full-time minister, and repairing a leaking roof on a historic building? What do you do when you have to have to choose between cutting your Director of Religious Education’s (DRE’s) hours, and paying a rising heating bill?

Making budget cuts is extremely painful, because every time we cut something out of a budget, we are cutting away a piece of someone’s vision. When we cut the DRE’s hours to pay the heating bill, we are cutting away at someone’s vision for the congregation’s ministries to children and youth. When we cut the minister to half-time in order to repair the leaking roof, we are cutting away at our vision of our congregation’s ministry.

This suggests a strategy when we’re trying either to cut a budget, or to move money out of one budget category into another budget category. When I get excited about a vision, I won’t give that vision up quickly, nor will I give it up at all if I don’t see a more compelling vision. Visions are a matter of the heart. Thus, if you want to change a budget that supports a vision that I’m excited about, your strategy should be to engage my heart — to get me excited about your new vision.

This is why I think it helps to think of budgets, not as dry statements of facts and numbers, but as passionately emotional vision statements.

What are the fiscal implications for moving the 2012 General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) from Phoenix, in response to a call for a boycott of the state of Arizona in response to SB1070, the law that allows harassment of anyone who’s not white state and local police to demand proof of citizenship status? If General Assembly is moved from Phoenix, the current contract calls for cancelation fees which have been variously reported at $600,000 to $650,000. In addition to paying those fees, a new location for General Assembly will likely result in higher cost because we are not planning far enough in advance. Let’s lay out some possible ways to come up with this money, from a fiscal conservative’s point of view.

The true fiscal conservative looks at both sides of the ledger. Starting on the expense side, where could we cut costs to come up with part of this money? The most logical place to cut costs is in the budget for the 2012 General Assembly. If the 2012 General Assembly were to include only those business matters required by the bylaws, I believe the schedule could be reduced to a single day. By cutting out workshops, worship services, lectures, and the like, non-delegates would not attend, reducing the space needed for General Assembly. It would also make sense to hold the meeting within driving distance of Boston to allow UUA staff to cut travel costs, while needing no expenses for overnight lodging for staffers. Total cost for the new location would then be reduced substantially.

Aside from that, I would be extremely unwilling to cut costs out of other denominational programs. The past two fiscal years have seen layoffs and staff cuts. Departments have been cut (e.g., the Washington office for advocacy), or merged to save money (e.g., the office for identity-based ministries no longer has an independent existence). An unanticipated expense of $650,000 would likely result in additional layoffs of at least half a dozen more UUA staffers. And there is no fat left to cut from the UUA budget — we’d be cutting muscle and bone.

Now let’s turn to the revenue side. Paying for this boycott offers an opportunity for concerned Unitarian Universalists to live out their ethical values by increasing their financial giving above their current contributions to local congregation and the UUA Annual Fund. It makes sense to set up a fund, managed either by an independent 501(c)3 or by the UUA (although there are staff costs to managing an additional fund), where concerned individuals and congregations would have the opportunity to contribute to directly offset the cost of moving GA. Given that Unitarian Universalists have the second rate of giving to their religion, as a percentage of annual income (at 1.5% of annual income, second only to Catholics), there is plenty of room for Unitarian Universalists to raise their giving to the denomination.

I’d like to see the following challenge issued to Unitarian Universalists:– For Unitarian Universalists who currently give less than 5% of their annual income to their faith, I’d like to see them give an additional 1-2% of their income to the fund for moving General Assembly. Those who are currently giving 5-10% of their annual income to their faith could give an additional 0.5% of their income to this fund. Those who give on the basis of their total wealth rather than income (because their wealth is larger than income) could give an amount of between 10%-100% more than their current contribution to their faith, depending on how much or how little they’re currently giving. Obviously, one would start by looking for big donors; individual contributors take a lot of work. I will add that if such a fund is set up, I’m prepared to write a check for 0.5% of my annual income (since I currently give 5% of my income to my church). I will also add that such a fund drive might have larger positive implications, in the way that a capital campaign in a local congregation often winds up boosting regular giving.

From a fiscal conservative’s point of view, boycotts come with financial implications; they are not free. Think of the Montgomery bus boycott, which required working people to deal with a much more difficult commute; their lost time was worth a great deal to them. Think also of the time when some Unitarian Universalist congregations pulled their assets out of companies doing business in South Africa, and then had to deal with decreased investment income, which they made up through cutting expenses and trying to increase donations (and, I might add, fiscal conservatives were some of the heros and heroines of that movement, since they were the ones who figured out how to make that boycott happen through cutting expenses and increasing donations).

The above discussion purposefully avoids the question of whether the boycott of Arizona is the right thing to do. But the larger question of whether or not the boycott of Arizona is the right thing to do cannot avoid the question of how to deal with the financial implications of that boycott; those who object to the boycott will most certainly raise that point. Personally, I know I have very little patience with those on either side of the issue who aren’t looking realistically at the financial implications; in order to win the votes of people like me, the fiscal implications must be addressed (N.B.: I’m not going to General Assembly this year, so my opinion is essentially meaningless).

Presumably, those who advocate the boycott are already considering this point as they plan their strategy for the inevitable floor fight at the 2010 General Assembly. If I were advocating for the boycott at the 2010 General Assembly, I would already be working on fundraising, knowing that if I could make an opening statement saying that I had raised, say, $100,000 towards the added expense, I’d probably win.

Mr. Crankypants has been watching with interest and amusement as some Unitarian Universalists demand that the 2012 General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Assocaition be moved from Phoenix, Arizona, to — somewhere else. Because, you see, those who are politically naive believe that if the Unitarian Universalists don’t meet in Phoenix in June of 2012, Arizona politicians will actually notice their absence.

Mr. Crankypants agrees that Arizona SB 1070 is a silly, stupid, racist law, enacted by political demagogues who are more interested in pandering to the baser side of the electorate than in actually providing humane and just leadership. But why on earth will those politicians, or any part of the electorate, pay the least bit attention to a small, little-known religious group which doesn’t show up in their state? And then there’s the media attention, or lack thereof:– of the following two scenarios, pick the one which you think could possibly wind up on television news shows in Phoenix: (1) Unitarian Universalists don’t show up; (2) Unitarian Universalists show up and participate in a well-organized and colorful demonstration in front of the Arizona capitol building.

Mr. Crankypants rests his case. However, given that the cancelation fees for moving General Assembly will amount to $650,000, given that other costs could mean that moving General Assembly in 2012 cost upwards of one million dollars, Mr. Crankypants makes the following offer:– if you still support moving General Assembly out of Phoenix, he will not mock you for your political naivete, provided you write a personal check for ten thousand dollars to the Unitarian Universalist Association to help pay for the move. (Strident and stubborn people should double that amount.)

Follow-up post on how to pay for moving General Assembly.

At dinner time yesterday, Carol and I were in San Francisco near Chinatown. We started looking for a restaurant. We did not go into the one that had the touts out on the street corner passing out coupons. We did not go into the expensive one on the main tourist street, the one filled with obvious tourists. We had to dodge out of the way as a block-long cavalcade of German tourists came down the sidewalk photographing everything in sight. We ducked down a side street. “Let’s go to that bakery place with a restaurant in the back,” I said. Carol was willing, and we circled around. The tables had formica tops. The prices were reasonable, and our waitress was pleasant. They had congee for me and pea sprouts for Carol. There was a dad with a toddler and a little girl dressed in pink, a man in a coat and tie sitting alone, a big table surrounded by people in their twenties, some other middle aged couples. It was pleasantly noisy from people talking, mostly not in English. It was not fancy food. What more could I want from a restaurant? .

The dry season has set in, the creeks have dried up, and the soil is getting powder dry. Our tomato plants looked like they needed water, so one evening we turned on the soaker hose that we buried in the garden, and let it run all night. The next morning, some animal — a roof rat, a large bird, a cat? — had uncovered portions of the hose, presumably to suck water off of it. And this morning when I watered the kale and tomatoes we have growing in containers on our second-story porch, and Oregon junco (Junco hyemalis [thurberi?]) came to sip at the overflow. Although the last rainstorm was only a few weeks ago, water is already precious to small animals.

I just talked with someone around here who wants to explore current Universalism within the Unitarian Universalist Association. I told this person that I thought of myself as a Universalist, but that I have to get outside the Palo Alto church (which has a decidedly Unitarian orientation) to get my Universalism fix. And how exactly do I get my “Universalism fix”? this person wanted to know. Well, by hearing good kick-butt Universalist preaching, and by talking to some real Universalists. And who are the preachers who still deliver kick-butt Universalist sermons? –and who are the “real Universalists”? this person wanted to know. Well, I had to admit that many of the “real Universalists” who have kept me going me are either dead (like Bob Needham), or on the East Coast (like Richard Trudeau). As for kick-butt Universalist preachers, there’s Gordon McKeeman, but he’s not preaching regularly any more, and sometimes I hear some real Universalist preaching at Ferry Beach, the Universalist conference center in Saco, Maine.

These were not very satisfactory answers, I’m afraid. Therefore, I’m going to plug into my online Universalist hivemind. If you’re a Universalist, how and where and from whom do you get your regular Universalism fix? Be specific and name names: Universalist preachers, congregations, persons, places.

Religious literacy asks: What are the basic things any religiously competent person should know? In his book Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs To Know — and Doesn’t, Stephen Prothero has a quiz on religious literacy for the average American (see pp. 293 ff.). So I decided to create some quizzes to test your religious literacy when it comes to North American Unitarianism, Universalism, and Unitarian Universalism. Passing scores are pretty low, and I would hope that any Unitarian Universalist kid who grows up in one of our congregations would be abel to pass these quizzes by age 18, and that any Unitarian Universalist adult who serves in a leadership role could pass one of these quizzes as well.

See if you can pass these quizzes without consulting any reference material! Answers posted here.

Universalism religious literacy quiz
Unitarianism religious literacy quiz
Unitarian Universalism religious literacy quiz

Religious literacy quiz: North American Universalists

Part One: Theology

(1) The most important theological document for North American Universalists appeared in 1805. What was its title, and who was its author? [10 points.]

(2) Most late nineteenth century Universalists were Restorationists. Briefly define Restorationism. [10 points.]

(3) Some post-Christian mid-twentieth century Universalists reinterpreted the name “Universalism.” What did “Universalism” originally mean, and how was it reinterpreted in the mid-twentieth century? [10 points.]

Part Two: Institutional history

(4) The first North American Universalist society was organized by Caleb Rich in Oxford, Massachusetts, in 1774. When was the second Universalist congregation organized, and in what city/town? Name two key figures in the founding of this congregation. [10 points.]

(5) A key document for Universalist unity was the Winchester Profession of Faith. When and where did that document originate? [10 points.]

(6) What was the name of the national body of Universalists through the nineteenth century and into the twentieth century? [10 points.]

Part Three: Important Universalists

For each of the following, give one short sentence on their accomplishment(s), and say which half century (e.g., first half of the nineteenth century) they were active:

(7) Judith Sargent Murray [10 points]

(8) Hosea Ballou [10 points]

(9) Olympia Brown [10 points]

(10) P. T. Barnum [10 points]

Religious literacy quiz: North American Unitarians

Part One: Theology

(1) A key statement of emerging North American Unitarianism appeared in 1819. What was its title, and who was its author? [10 points.]

(2) After the Civil War, a group of radicals in the Western Unitarian Conference wanted to remove any requirement of theistic belief for ministers, congregations, and individuals. Name one of these radicals. [10 points.]

(3) The greatest Unitarian theologian of the mid-twentieth century was James Luther Adams. Was he a humanist or a theist? [10 points.]

Part Two: Institutional history

(4) The first North American congregation to declare itself Unitarian did so in what year and in what city? Name one key figure who participated in this. [10 points.]

(5) What is the direct institutional link between North American Unitarians, and the older Unitarian tradition in Transylvania? [10 points.]

(6) In what year was the the American Unitarian Association founded? [10 points.]

(7) What was the fellowship movement, and why was it important? [10 points.]

Part Three: Important Unitarians

For each of the following, give one short sentence on their accomplishment(s), and say which half century (e.g., first half of the nineteenth century) they were active:

(8) Theodore Parker [10 points]

(9) Egbert Ethelred Brown [10 points]

(10) Sophia Fahs [10 points]

Religious literacy quiz: North American Unitarian Universalists

Part One: Theology

(1) Beginning in the 1970s and 1980s, the “flaming chalice” became a popular (albeit unofficial) symbol of North American Unitarian Universalists. Where did that symbol come from, and what was its original meaning? [10 points.]

(2) Name one key Unitarian Universalist document that received a feminist revision in the 1980s and 1990s. [10 points.]

(3) Unitarian Universalism is a Christian denomination. Circle one:
True.
False.
None of the above.
All of the above.
[10 points.]

Part Two: Institutional history

(4) The Universalist Church of America and the American Unitarian Association combined forces in what year? What is the correct legal term for this action, and why is that important? [10 points.]

(5) In what year were the Principles and Purposes of the Unitarian Universalist Association adopted? [10 points.]

(6) What was the Black Empowerment Controversy? [10 points.]

Part Three: Important Unitarian Universalists

For each of the following, give one short sentence on a major accomplishment, and say which decade this accomplishment happened:

(7) Dana McLean Greeley [10 points]

(8) Sandra M. Caron [10 points]

(9) Robert Fulghum [10 points]

(10) William Sinkford [10 points]

Answers to the quizzes are below. Scoring: Give yourself partial credit if you want. Passing score is 65 for each quiz. Brag about your high score, or bemoan your low score, or tell me where I went wrong, in the comments.

Universalism religious literacy quiz
Unitarianism religious literacy quiz
Unitarian Universalism religious literacy quiz

Religious literacy quiz: North American Universalists

Part One: Theology

(1) Treatise on Atonement, Hosea Ballou. [10 points.]

(2) There will be limited punishment after death for sins in this life, but eventually everyone will go to heaven. [10 points.]

(3) Originally meant universal salvation, reinterpreted to mean a universal religion for all humankind. [10 points.]

Part Two: Institutional history

(4) John and Judith Sargent Murray were key figures in organizing a Universalist congregation in Gloucester, Massachusetts, in 1779. [10 points.]

(5) Winchester, New Hampshire, in 1803. [10 points.]

(6) Universalist General Convention. [10 points.]

Part Three: Important Universalists

For each of the following, give one short sentence on their accomplishment(s), and say which half century (e.g., first half of the nineteenth century) they were active:

(7) Judith Sargent Murray: see no. 4 above; wrote first North American Universalist catechism. Last half of 18th C. [10 points]

(8) Hosea Ballou: most important Universalist theologian, wrote Treatise on Atonement. Late 18th and early 19th C. [10 points]

(9) Olympia Brown: first woman to be ordained a minister by a national religious body (by the Universalist General Convention). Late 19th C. [10 points]

(10) P. T. Barnum: showman and circus promoter. Mid 19th C. [10 points]

Religious literacy quiz: North American Unitarians

Part One: Theology

(1) “Unitarian Christianity,” a sermon preached by William Ellery Channing. [10 points.]

(2) Jenkin Lloyd Jones was one key figure. [10 points.]

(3) Both. After he left fundamentalism, James Luther Adams became a humanist, but later was allied with the Christians in Unitarianism and Unitarian Universalism. [10 points.]

Part Two: Institutional history

(4) King’s Chapel, Boston, 1785, James Freeman. [10 points.]

(5) None whatsoever. [10 points.]

(6) 1825. [10 points.]

(7) Small groups of 10 or more, without a minister, could affiliate as Unitarian congregations beginning after the Second World War. The fellowship movement contributed to the growth of Unitarianism in the post-war period. [10 points.]

Part Three: Important Unitarians

For each of the following, give one short sentence on their accomplishment(s), and say which half century (e.g., first half of the nineteenth century) they were active:

(8) Minister, abolitionist, scholar, prominent exponent of Transcendentalist views, Theodore Parker’s congregation regularly attracted over 2,000 people a week. Mid 19th C. [10 points]

(9) Egbert Ethelred Brown was an early Black Unitarian minister. Early 20th C. [10 points]

(10) Sophia Fahs was a key figure in revitalizing religious education. Mid 20th C. [10 points]

Religious literacy quiz: North American Unitarian Universalists

Part One: Theology

(1) The flaming chalice originated as a symbol of the Unitarian Service Committee during the Second World War. The artist, Hans Deutsch, had no particular symbolism in mind, but certainly the flaming chalice was a symbol of the Service Committee. [10 points.]

(2) The hymnal. Or the Bylaws of the Unitarian Universalist Asosication, especially the so-called “Principles and Purposes.” [10 points.]

(3) There is no general agreement on the answer to this question; perhaps the fourth option is best, but give yourself credit for choosing any one of the choices. [10 points.]

Part Two: Institutional history

(4) Consolidation (not merger). Consolidation meant that the vote of the associated congregations did not have to be unanimous; whereas merger (in the legal sense) required all congregations in each of the denominations to agree. [10 points.]

(5) 1961. Revised in 1985 (to remove gender-specific language), and again in 1994 (seventh principle added). [10 points.]

(6) While there are endless arguments about the precise origin of the controversy, the most general answer would be that African American Unitarian Universalists sought a greater voice and real power within the Unitarian Universalist Association. [10 points.]

Part Three: Important Unitarian Universalists

For each of the following, give one short sentence on a major accomplishment, and say which decade this accomplishment happened:

(7) Dana McLean Greeley: first president of the UUA. 1960s. [10 points]

(8) Sandra M. Caron: first woman moderator of the UUA. 1970s. [10 points]

(9) Robert Fulghum: published the bestseller All I Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten, based in part on a series of church newsletter columns he wrote, and became for a time perhaps the best known living Unitarian Universalists. 1980s. [10 points]

(10) William Sinkford: first African American president of the UUA, and one of the first African American presidents of a historically white denomination. 2000s. [10 points]

Probably not what you’re thinking: the Fringe concerts associated with the Berkeley Festival & Exhibition of early music. You know, things like Evensong by William Byrd, a medieval vespers with music by Hildegard de Bingen, a Baroque lute recital, a musical marathon of music by Marais on the viola da gamba (“until the cake runs out”), etc. And before you say it, why yes I am a geek.

In an article titled “Can Unitarian Universalism Change?” published in the spring, 2010, issue of U[nitarian] U[niversalist] World magazine, Paul Rasor made this statement: “Unitarian Universalism has its own cultural tradition, one that is rooted in European-American cultural norms and ways of being in the world.” That simple statement has unleashed a torrent of verbiage, both in print and online. The summer, 2010, issue of UU World magazine offers seven different responses to the question, “What is UU culture?” and Unitarian Universalist bloggers have gone at great length trying to articulate what “UU culture” might be.

A closer reading of Paul’s article offers a pretty good definition of what he means by a Unitarian Universalist culture “that is rooted in European-American cultural norms.” More specifically, Paul mentions the norms of European-American modernism: “Unitarian Universalism has for the most part adopted the core values of modernity, including its emphasis on human reason, the autonomous authority of the individual, and the critical evaluation of all religious truth claims.” Paul goes on to make a modest-sounding but very radical statement: “We cannot reason our way into multiculturalism.” That means that the usual tools of reason — debate, argument, reasoned essays and articles, thoughtful conversation — won’t create multiculturalism. I would offer a corollary to Paul’s argument: if you want Unitarian Universalism to remain white and uni-cultural, stick to reasoned debate.

Following immediately upon Paul’s article in that same spring, 2010, issue of UU World, was Rosemary Bray McNatt’s article, titled “We Must Change.” She says it’s not just that “UU culture” encompasses more than race: “We… underestimate the reality of resistance [to multiculturalism] in our congregations, a resistance rooted not so much in racism as in matters of class and culture.” Those who are continuing the conversation in print and online have picked up on Rosemary McNatt’s article, and they keep trying to have reasonable discussion and debate about “UU culture” — does it include listening to National Public Radio stations, and not listening to hip hop? — and then try to reason how we might get change that culture.

Reasonable debate, however, turns out to be a fairly useless strategy. You can reason it out this way: Social systems can be modeled as multi-loop non-linear feedback systems, which means their behavior will be counter-intuitive. Therefore, if the majority of Unitarian Universalists stop talking about National Public Radio, and start listening to hip hop music, that only affects one feedback loop within the complex multi-loop system; the equilibrium of the overall system will not change. If we want to change and become multicultural, reason is the wrong tool for the job; reason is simply inadequate for developing a sufficiently accurate mental model that would adequately guide us into multiculturalism.

How then are we to change? It will be messy. A decade and a half of experience with congregational social systems has led me to believe that true change happens in one area when you are working on something that is only tangentially related. Want to grow your children’s program? Don’t bother with advertising aimed at new families, pour your energy into teacher training and youth ministries. Want to increase worship attendance 10% in a year? Ignore your membership committee, and instead teach your congregation how to sing lustily. Want to become multicultural? Don’t effusively welcome the people of color who actually do show up at your church, but instead claim your congregation’s identity as an introverted church (or your identity as an extroverted church, if that’s the case).

Not that it’s that simple: there is no step-by-step checklist that will lead to multiculturalism — that would be too reasonable to work. Throw out your checklists and your reasoned arguments. If I might quote Yoda: “No UU culture there is. Only people who are UU, there are. Hmmmmmm.”

Hmmmmm, indeed.

This evening, Carol and I attended a Baycon presentation on the Cassini mission to Saturn given by Bridget Landry, deputy systems uplink engineer at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena. Not only was Landry an excellent presenter, she also gave away Saturn moon trading cards and Saturn stickers (I took the cards, Carol took the stickers). Landry recommended the Cassini Equinox Mission Web site — as she said, your tax dollars paid for these fabulous photographs, you might as well use them in your Christmas cards next year.

It rained three days this week. As Debra in the church office said, it always rains in late May and usually on Memorial Day weekend; maybe this year we got the rain out of the way before the long weekend. After three days of rain, you’d expect a nice crop of mosquitoes to hatch out. But not in the Bay area. The few mosquitoes that do come around whine listlessly around your ear, and when you swat at them, and miss, they apologize for bothering you and fly away. If you go hiking up into some of the undeveloped canyons and ridge tops around the Bay area, it’s a different story. As you dodge the poison oak branches that actively try to swat you in the face, fast little iron-gray mosquitoes fly at you while you’re distracted, and drill their red-hot proboscises into your arteries.

When those vicious iron-gray mosquitoes attack you, you believe the stories of the early residents of Palo Alto, who complained that the town was a vile place to live: every time it rained, the streets turned into a muddy mess, and the fleas and mosquitoes made life miserable. There are credible stories of children getting sucked down into the mud and lost forever. As for the mosquitoes, they were much bigger back then: two working together could pick up a small dog and carry it off, and four could drain enough blood out of a big man to leave him ghostly pale and unconscious. In San Mateo County, mosquitoes were among the first registered voters back in 1856 when the county split from San Francisco. The county had only 2,000 human residents; women and children weren’t allowed to vote, yet 1,600 votes were cast in the first election, many by mosquitoes. It is said that the only reason San Mateo County politics eventually got cleaned up was that the swamps got drained, and the mosquitoes mostly died off.

3 moments from Bruce Nauman’s 1968 video “Wall/Floor Positions,” San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, April, 2010.

Note to Jean: Nauman is a Hoosier, born in Fort Wayne.

LULU (loo’ loo) — acronym for “Locally Unwanted Land Uses”; a LULU is something that a developer or land owner wants to build in, but abutters and other neighbors don’t want. LULUs can include prisons, toxic waste dumps, wind turbine farms, high-speed rail lines, halfway houses, churches, etc.

NIMBY (nim’ bee) — acronym for “Not In My Back Yard”.” Both developers and environmentalists use the acronym pejoratively to describe persons who fight to keep a project out of their neighborhood. Environmentalists may call opponents of the Cape Wind projects NIMBYs; developers call environmentalists NIMBYs on a regular basis.

PIBBY (pib’ bee) — acronym for “Put It in the Blacks’ Back Yard” or “Put It in the Browns’ Back Yard.” Used to explain the high incidence of LULUs in communities of color, based on lack of political access for those communities, blindness of mainstream environmentalism, job or economic blackmail, etc. Example: “NIMBYism leads to the PIBBY syndrome.”

One possible way to test the extent to which a given group is predominantly politically liberal, white, and middle class is to look at that group’s attitudes towards environmentalism:

“The evidence suggests that most mainstream environmentalist groups have traditionally had little interest in issues faced by poor, minority, urban people…. Under the circumstances, it is hardly surprising that at least some observers have had harsh words for mainstream environmentalism. For example, in his book Environmental Quality and Social Justice in Urban America, James Noel Smith has argued that mainstream environmentalism is ‘a deliberate attempt by a bigoted and selfish white middle-class society to perpetuate its own values and protect its own lifestyle at the expense of the poor and underprivileged.’ A similar view was expressed even earlier by Richard Hatcher, then mayor of the city of Gary, Indiana. ‘The nation’s concern with the environment,’ Hatcher said, ‘has done what George Wallace had been unable to do: distract the nation from the human problems of black and brown Americans’ (“The Rise of Anti-Ecology,’ 1970)….” [Environmental Justice: A Reference Handbook, David E. Newton (Santa Barbara, Calif.: ABC-CLIO), pp. 15-16.]

If a group is predominantly concerned with the siting of hazardous waste disposal sites and incinerators, heavy metals in the soil, high cancer rates due to environmental toxins, environmental hazards concentrated in communities of color, food security, etc., you can safely predict that that group has few liberal white middle class people in it. If, on the other hand, a group is predominantly concerned with carbon footprints and alternative energy, preservation of non-local wildlife and natural spaces, “locavore” issues, and the like, it is more probable that such groups are dominated by liberal white middle class people. (And if a group believes that the best solutions to hypothetical environmental problems will be created by businesses and the free market, there’s a good chance that those groups are dominated by more conservative white middle class people.)

Andy Pakula, minister of the Newington Green and Islington Unitarians in London, tells an interesting story in a recent blog post:

I received a very interesting email the other day:

“I am going to be in London over the summer with my girl friend Amy and we are interested in your fellowship. The issue is we are both people in the arts and grew up in conservative churches .. me Roman Catholic, she Protestant fundamentalist and we really got hurt. We found a Unitarian fellowship in America and this was healing for us both. Would we fit with you? We are ‘out there’ in terms of style. I (Chad) wear short skirts and tall boots and Amy goes bra-less and wears very very short dresses. We have been rejected in our home churches and wonder if we would be welcomed dressed as we are in your church. — Chad Bradford”

The message came through the British Unitarian Association’s web site contact system. My intention was to contact these folks and find out more about them. There are certainly people who are biologically men and identify as women and I would and do welcome them completely. This didn’t sound like that at all though. The story seemed – well – more than a bit odd.

And if you read the rest of Andy’s post, you’ll find out that the true story is indeed odd.

You are welcome to leave your thoughts and comments as to the motivation behind all this. Is it someone baiting religious liberals as Andy contends? Is it an in-the-closet transgender Canon as some of Andy’s commenters imply? Or is it a combination of northern New England inbreeding and cabin fever, which I find plausible?

See the first comment below: it’s all about Manny Ramirez!

Virginia City, Nevada, was a Far Western mining town that came into being c. 1859, soon after silver began being mined from the famous Comstock Lode. After the Comstock Lode ceased producing profitable ore in 1898, Virginia City’s population declined precipitously. During the 1870s, there was a small Unitarian organization in Virginia City.

Mary McNair Mathews, in her memoir Ten Years in Nevada: or, Life on the Pacific Coast (1880; reprint 1985, University of Nebraska Press, p. 194), wrote: “There are churches here [in Virginia City] of every denomination, except the Universalist. All have their own churches except the Unitarians or Liberalists, as they term themselves. They hold their services at the National Guard Hall….” Mathews lived in Virginia City from 1869 to 1878.

This Virgnia City Unitarian congregation predates the organization of the Reno Unitarian Church under Revs. Mila and Rezin Maynard in 1893 by some twenty years.

How did Unitarianism come to Virginia City? At least one Unitarian preacher visited Virginia City, but he went there for other purposes. Rev. Thomas Starr King, the dynamic Unitarian minister in San Francisco, spoke in Virginia City in 1860 on a lecture tour promoting Abraham Lincoln, the Republican party, and the Union. “A speaking tour took him through the mining towns…. The high point of this tour was his lecture in Virginia City, the ‘citadel of secession’.” (Arnold Crompton, Unitarianism on the Pacific Coast, p. 33.) King visited Virgnia City again in 1863. However, I simply don’t whether or not his visits sparked an interest in Unitarianism.

By 1865, the American Unitarian Association (AUA) had noticed Virginia City. In its January, 1865, issue (vol. VI no. 1), the Unitarian Monthly Journal reported on a special meeting of the AUA. Rev. Henry W. Bellows addressed the Association about possibilities for growth, and he specifically mentioned Unitarianism in Virginia City: “He [Bellows] then spoke of California as an illustration of what we might do for the religious quickening of masses of men, and mentioned seven places on the Pacific coast in which he thought societies could be started with reasonable prospect of success. At Sacramento there were twenty Unitarian families. Then there were Stockton, Marysville, Virginia City in Nevada….” However, I don’t know if the AUA followed up on Bellows’s suggestion of starting a Unitarian church in Virginia City.

It also seems quite possible that people who were already Unitarians moved to Virginia City and simply started a church.

I’m reading An Editor on the Comstock Lode, a book Virginia City in the 1870s, and the author mentions that Ethan Allen Grosh and Hosea Ballou Grosh are often credited with finding the Comstock Lode. If he was named “Hosea Ballou Grosh” after the great Universalist theologian, I thought to myself, he had to have been a Universalist. And it turns out he was.

A 2008 Associated Press article, “Letters from Gold Rush era are themselves a treasure,” by Martin Griffith, has more information:

Brothers Hosea and Ethan Allen Grosh were jubilant after they discovered a “monster ledge” of silver in the parched mountains of present-day Nevada in the summer of 1857.

The sibling prospectors never prospered from the find, however. In fact, both went to early graves without realizing they were on the verge of locating one of the world’s greatest bonanzas: a massive, underground pocket of silver and gold know as the Comstock Lode, about 20 miles southeast of Reno….

The sons of a Universalist minister in Marietta, Pa., the Grosh brothers arrived by ship in San Francisco in 1849 to find a tent city “growing like a mushroom,” full of grog shops and gamblers. But they faced problems from the start in the West, suffering from dysentery soon after arriving, and both were ill off and on until the end eight years later.

Just when their hopes were highest, Hosea Grosh died in September 1857 of an infection after striking his foot with a pick. That winter, his brother died near Auburn, Calif., of complications of frostbite after being caught in a Sierra Nevada snowstorm. Hosea Grosh was 31 and his brother 33.

More information about the Grosh brothers can be found in various books about the Comstock strike. Papers of the Grosh brothers from 1849-1857, including many letters, are in the Nevada Historical Society in Reno.

Update: More on the Grosh brothers —

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From The History of Nevada by Sam Post Davis, vol. 1 (The Elms Publishing Co., Inc., 1913), pp. 382 ff.:

The Grosh Brothers. — In 1857 E[than] Allen Grosh and Hosea B[allou] Grosh, sons of Rev. A. B. Grosh, a Unitarian [sic; actually Universalist] clergyman of Philadelphia, were working on the Comstock. From the testimony of many old miners who knew them, they were men of considerable scientific attainments, being chemists, assayers and metallurgists. In addition to all this, having quite an outfit of assaying implements, they also brought with them to a spot afterward occupied by the Trenck mill quite a formidable library of scientific works. Captain Gilpin and George Brown were also regarded as partners of the Grosh brothers. They went over into the gold region —now the Comstock—from Mud Springs, El Dorado County, California, in 1857, and continued to prospect for nearly a year. They came across a young man named McLoud and took him along with them. He was a Canadian, about twenty years of age, and had crossed the plains with some Mormon emigrants.

The Mormons, who were the early settlers of Nevada, wanted McLoud to remain with them, but he declined to accept their religion, and so cast his fortunes with the miners. The Grosh brothers occupied the cabin along with young McLoud, and Comstock, after whom the ledge was named, was a frequent visitor to their little home. By this time there was considerable mining done about Mt. Davidson, but it was all for gold. The black sulphurets, so rich in silver, were regarded as of no value and thrown away. In fact, the presence of these sulphurets was regarded everywhere with disfavor by the miners.

There is no authentic record of any assay made by the Grosh brothers, but they had the necessary appliances for the work and must have made [p. 383] the assay, for in the fall of 1857 they told Comstock that they knew of rich silver mines in the vicinity, and were going back to Philadelphia to secure capital to work them. They asked Comstock to remain at their cabin during the winter with McLoud, who had been engaged by them to cut wood, etc., until they returned. At that time there was considerable stunted cedar in the vicinity, and this, with the sagebrush, was used for fuel.

It would be of great interest for the world to know the history of the first silver assay made by the Grosh brothers. What it amounted to they kept to themselves. The testimony of McLoud on this subject is interesting. After he reached Last Chance, with his feet frozen from exposure, he stated to Bill Leet, the storekeeper there, that he had come over the mountains with one of the Grosh brothers and that they had endured horrible sufferings on the way. McLoud stated to Leet that he saw the Groshes “pour some of the silver ore in a glass after pounding it in a pot and wetting it,” and that after that “they got very much excited.” This was McLoud’s description of the formula of taking an assay. McLoud now lives in Montreal, Canada, where he is practicing medicine. The assay thus described by McLoud is unquestionably the first assay ever made of the silver deposits of the Comstock.

What a subject this scene would have made for a painter’s brush — in the interior of a miner’s camp at night, the faces of two fortune-seekers lit by the ruddy glow of the cupel-furnace, as they eagerly held up the glass where the silver-button had dissolved in the acid solution! On the result of that assay the fortune of thousands hung. Out of that assay sprang the millionaires of the Coast, blocks of the finest buildings which now adorn San Francisco, the great enterprises that have made Nevada and California famous, and along with it, a landslide of misery and bankruptcy that has carried thousands to the foot of the hill to be covered with the debris of shame and oblivion. Out of the little glass came a giant more powerful and relentless than the awful shape that sprang from the pan in the Arabian story, and this giant still lives to make and unmake the destinies of thousands. The men who made the assay are both dead. The grave of one is in California, and of the other in Nevada, and neither themselves nor their descendants ever realized a dollar from their discovery which added to the world’s wealth over seven hundred millions of dollars and saved the American Union in the Civil War.

[p. 384] The Grosh brothers seemed to fully realize the importance of the discovery they had made, for they began to make plans for going back to Philadelphia to interest capitalists there to invest in their find. They at once staked off several claims, but there being no mining district there at the time, naturally they could not have recorded them. They told Comstock, who combined with them, what their intentions were, and where the find was located.

While preparations were being made for the departure of the Grosh brothers, Hosea, while prospecting, ran a pick in his foot, and the result was lockjaw, from which he died on the 2d of September. His grave was marked by a few boulders, but on June 27, 1865, Hon. Schuyler Colfax, who was en route for California overland, participated in the erection of a marble-slab over the grave. About 200 people took part in the ceremony. This slab had been sent from Philadelphia by the father of the deceased, and it was inscribed as follows:

“Hosea B., second son of Rev. A. B. Grosh.
Born at Marietta, Pa., April 23, 1826.
Died at Gold Canyon, Nev., Sept. 2, 1857.”

George Brown, who was out on the Humboldt river, was in some way a partner of the Grosh boys, but in what way has never been clearly stated. He was murdered at Gravelly Ford on the Humboldt shortly before Hosea Grosh injured his foot. He was mentioned by the Grosh boys as “our partner,” and they said that he was coming to help them with $600. When they heard of his death they were very despondent. They learned the news of Brown’s death from Mrs. Louisa M. Dettenrieder, whose name at that time was Mrs. Ellis. She is still living in Nevada, having first gone there in 1853. She states that she first met them in Nevada as early as 1854, after which they went to Volcano, Cal., to winter and returned to Nevada in 1855. They told Mrs. Ellis in 1857 of their discoveries, and also pointed to Mt. Davidson, saying that the big silver ledge was at the foot of the mountain, and that in locating their claims they had put her down for 300 feet.

Mrs. Ellis became quite interested in the discoveries, and made a proposition to sell her property in California and put $1,500 into the scheme of developing the discovery. Winter came on, however, and Mrs. Ellis never had further opportunity to invest.

About November 1, Allen, the remaining Grosh brother, took young [p. 385]McLoud and started across the mountains for Mud Springs by way of Georgetown. They crossed by way of Lake Tahoe, then known as Lake Bigler, and after being in a succession of snowstorms finally reached Last Chance, in Placer County, where Grosh died from the effects of the privations he had suffered, and McLoud was obliged to have his feet amputated.

Johnson Simmons, who was stopping temporarily at Last Chance at the time, and who now resides in Oakland, gives the following account: “I recall the time when two miners were brought into Last Chance in the winter of 1857. Some men were out hunting deer when they found the two lying in the snow, where they were dying of cold and hunger. The one named Grosh never spoke after he was brought in. The miners carried them from the place where they were first found, as they were too weak to walk. Grosh, I think, lived about three days after being brought in. His stomach refused nourishment and his legs were frozen. The other man we found pulled through, but they were obliged to amputate his feet. The miners then took him to Michigan Bar, where they kept him until spring and then raised a subscription to send him to his relatives in Canada. Before he left for Canada he told me of his trip. He said their provisions gave out after passing Lake Bigler and their sufferings were terrible. They had their provisions, etc., on a pack-mule, but there was nothing but small twigs for him to eat and he became so weak that they were obliged to kill him. After the mule was killed he was cut up and portions of his flesh roasted. The meat was lean, tough and unsavory, and only their terrible hunger made the repast endurable. They ate their last cooked mule on the banks of the Truckee, and, slinging as much of the roast meat as they could carry on their shoulders, they pushed on. They became so faint that they could no longer carry anything except their blankets, so they ate as much as they could and threw the rest away. At that point Allen Grosh, who had stuck to his maps and assays through all the journey, concluded to abandon them also, and so he tied them up into a piece of canvas and deposited them in the hollow of a large pine tree. McLoud said that he never saw the assays, Grosh being very close-mouthed regarding them. All that he knew of them was that they were high in silver, and from a conversation he overheard he believed them high in the thousands. The tree in which they were deposited had blown down in the wind, having broken about [p. 386] twenty feet from the ground. Grosh told them that it was safer to select a tree of that kind than a standing one, liable in a storm to be uprooted. The hollow in the tree was quite small, and after depositing the records he cut a mark on the tree with his knife and rolled a good-sized stone in front of the hollow. The next day there was a big snowstorm, and they finally threw away their blankets, as they were useless from the wet, and their matches were useless from the same cause. After the snowstorm it turned colder, and for four days and nights they wandered in the mountains nearly dead and demented from exposure and hunger. At night they could hear the howling of the wolves, but none were ever near enough to attack them, and once they crossed the track of a bear. They finally sank down with exhaustion near some rocks, and Grosh said he had rather die there than make any further effort. After giving themselves up for lost they heard shots, and McLoud roused himself and went in the direction of the shots, when he came on a party of miners hunting deer. He took the party to Grosh, only a few hundred yards away, and then sank down alongside him. The miners carried the two to Last Chance, a camp near by, and there Grosh died after a few days, never having been able to speak. Had he been able to speak, McLoud felt confident he would have made some statement relative to his discoveries.”

In the spring Comstock learned that Allen Grosh was dead, and concluded to take advantage of the knowledge then acquired. The partner of Grosh claimed afterward that Comstock ransacked the cabin for papers and data, and was thus enabled to relocate the ledge. It is not probable, however, that such was the case, as the Grosh brothers did not trust him with anything, nor was it likely that they left anything in the cabin that would benefit him. After they left he probably went over the ground where he had seen them prospecting and located the likeliest places….

[Comstock wound up losing his claims and dying poor.]

[p. 393] …Some years after the Comstock had become a heavy bullion producer the heirs of the Grosh brothers tried to secure their rights on the Comstock by litigation and employed Benjamin F. Butler, then the most noted lawyer in the United States to prosecute the case. He made a very thorough examination into the matter and stated to the litigants that there was no legal question about the absolute rights of the heirs to some of the most valuable ground on the Comstock, but he gave them the advice that the defendants were men so thoroughly intrenched in possession, and having unlimited money at their command they would be able to buy up any jury that could be selected to try the case, and that, [p. 394] under the circumstances, the winning of such a case would be an impossibility. The heirs of the Groshes wisely concluded to drop the idea of attempting to wrest the big mines from the hands of William Sharon and the Bank of California.

It’s my day off, the day I take as a sabbath. I head over to Moe’s bookstore in Berkeley. OK, so I go over to bookstores in Berkeley and north Oakland maybe once or twice a month, and I never see anyone I know. But this time I recognize a guy standing there looking through the poetry books. Of course he’s another Unitarian Universalist minister. He’s looking for an obscure Ferlenghetti book, I’m looking for an interlinear translation of The Canterbury Tales. Unitarian Universalist ministers are such geeks, which is one of the reasons I love my line of work.

Before you ask: While many Berkeley bookstores have gone under, a fair number remain including Moe’s, Pegasus, Pendragon, Shakespeare & Co., Eastwind, Half Price Books, Dark Carnival, Diesel — it’s still worth a trip.

The old Palo Alto Unitarian Church was designed by Unitarian architect Bernard Maybeck in 1906; he his firm also designed the old Unitarian church building in Berkeley (now owned, and treated somewhat disrespectfully, by the University of California), and he most famously designed the First Church of Christ, Scientist, in Berkeley. The first set of drawings for the Palo Alto church building was destroyed in a fire that followed the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Maybeck made another set of drawings, and the main church building was completed 1907; due to the rise in construction costs following the earthquake, the social hall was not completed until 1913.

“A prominent architect, Mr. B[ernard] R[alph] Maybeck… was hired. The new building was dedicated on March 24, 1907…. The design of the building was unusual. It used rough, less expensive forms of material, redwood board and battens, common redwood shakes, rough, heavy timbers which more than caqrried the weight of the roof and cement plaster like that use for outside work, forming a deep chancel arch as high as the roof. The timbers, whose rough serfaces were left unplaned, were stained with an old-fashioned logwood dye… giving a deep color, almost black. The shakes were dipped in a solution before they were put on the ceiling, and were turned gray, not unlike the stone-gray of the cement. The windows of the church, which were set high, had small leaded panes of a light amber tone, and the lanterns for illumination at night gave as nearly as possible the same light. The pulpit and the high-hooded chair were covered with a soft plush velour, rose-pink in shade, and curtains hung behind it across the whole width of the chancel and down the sides to the arch. The Bible-rest on the pulpit, the work of a member of the congregation, was a brilliant glass mosaic. The arch, high and massive, directly under which the pulpit stood, was the dominating feature of the interior….”¹

The exterior of this building can be seen in the Andover Harvard Library collection of Postcards of Unitarian and Universalist Church Buildings; scroll down to the sixth listing, and click on the small image.

The building was not fondly remembered by Alfred Niles, who wrote, “In 1927 when the writer came to Palo Alto, the old Unitarian church at Cowper St. and Channing Avenue was still functioning, but rather feebly…. Another thing which I think was an important obstacle to recovery was the quality of the pews in the old building. They were the most uncomfortable ones I have ever encountered.” When the congregation finally dissolved (in 1934), ownership of the building reverted to the American Unitarian Association, who sold it to a “fundamentalist group.”²

The old building passed through the hands of other owners. The Palo Alto Art Club purchased it in 1952, renovated the old church at 855 Cowper St., and remained there until 1965.³. Sometime following their departure, the building was demolished.

For researchers who wish to know more about this building, the Bernard Maybeck Collection at the University of California contains the following:

Manuscript Box/Folder: 20 | 206, Drawings Oversize Folder: FF 234, Photographs Box/Folder: 31 | 283
ARCH 1956-1 Unitarian Church 1906-1907
Repository: Environmental Design Archives
Collaborator/Role: White, M.H., (architect)
Palo Alto, CA
Project Type:
religious

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¹ “History of the Palo Alto Unitarian Church, 1895 to 1928,” Donna Lee, c. 1991, pp. [3-5].
² “The Early Years of the Palo Alto Unitarian Society,” Alfred S. Niles, n.d. (c. 1960?), p. 1.
³ “History,” Pacific Art League Web site, http://palpa.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=22&Itemid=34 , accessed 19 May 2010.

Thomas M. Shapiro, Tatjana Meschede, and Laura Sullivan of the Institute on Assets and Social Policy (affiliated with the Heller School for Social Policy and Management at Brandeis University) have released a new Research and Policy Brief, “The Racial Wealth Gap Increases Fourfold”. Shapiro et al. summarize their findings in the opening paragraph of the brief:

“New evidence reveals that the wealth gap between white and African American families has more than quadrupled over the course of a generation. Using economic data collected from the same set of families over 23 years (1984 2007), we find that the real wealth gains and losses of families over that time period demonstrate the stampede toward an escalating racial wealth gap.”

In their coverage of this, the BBC quote Shapiro as saying, “There continues to be a persistence of racial segregation.” Later, they quote him as saying, “I was shocked by how large the number was…. I’ve been in this research business, and looking at similar kinds of issues, for a long period of time, but even in my cynical and jaded moments I didn’t expect that outcome over one generation.”

I was going to offer some theological commentary, but I’m too pissed off by this news. This is about the only time I’ve wished I were a hellfire and brimstone preacher.

I wish I could attend the conference held by the Network of Spiritual Progressives June 11-14, “Strategies for Liberals and Progressives for the Obama Years.” It looks like it will be an educational opportunity, a time to worship with spiritual progressives from many faiths, and an opportunity to work on regional strategies (and yes even an chance to demonstrate in front of the White House for those who need it).

This conference has a truly ugly Web page, but I’m impressed by the list of people who will be speaking or leading workshops: Rev. Brian McLaren, Bill McKibben, Rabbi Michael Lerner, Sharon Welch, David Korten, Rev. James Forbes, Gary Dorrien, and other prominent spiritual progressives (Sharon Welch is the only Unitarian Unviersalist whom I recognized). Good grief, even Marianne Williamson will speak. Some of the workshops sound pretty good: “The Legacy of Racism and How It Continues in Obama’s America”; “The Growth of an Indigenous American Fascism”; “America’s Endless Wars: Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Yemen, North Korea, and What’s Next?” (Pacifist that I am, I would love to attend that last workshop.)

I can’t attend — I’ll be on a service trip with our church’s youth group — but I’m wondering if there are any Unitarian Universalists besides Sharon Welch who will be there. Are you going to this conference?

Part One of this four-part series

Present-day alternatives

To better set the associational rigidity of today’s Unitarian Universalism into relief, it is worth considering other forms of associationism currently in existence which do not match this ideal. By considering these alternative forms of associationism, we can better understand that associationism is not restricted to certain received forms or ideals. In recent years, we have seen existing congregations supporting new start-up congregations with administrative and financial support, without going through traditional district or denominational structures: that is, associationism allows direct contact between local organizations without being mediated by a regional or national associational structure. In recent years, we have seen a few ministers experimenting with more entrepreneurial approaches to starting up new congregations aimed at reaching young urbanites, including store-front churches and house churches: this harks back to the itinerant Universalist preachers who adapted their religion to regional differences and to rapid changes in society. We have seen individuals or congregations developing innovative new resources on their own and providing them directly to other congregations (e.g., small group ministry resources): this recalls the efforts of groups like the Unitarian Sunday school Society before its functions were effectively taken over by the AUA.

Associationism is (or should be) a flexible, highly participatory organizational structure that allows both local autonomy and effective cooperation between local organizations. Associationism is grounded in the principles of voluntary association that involves, among many characteristics: free association within and protected from societal and governmental structures; civic engagement (i.e., participants in a voluntary association run the association themselves, rather than the state or ecclesiastical authority); the creation of metaphorical spaces within society where individual voices can be heard; combining individual voices together to make a broader impact on mass democracy or other government. Associationism is structured by written documents (minutes of business meetings, bylaws, communications between local organizations, etc.). Associationism is also structured by behavioral norms that allow voluntary association. Associationism does not require theological rigidity, or another other kind of rigidity for that matter, including the current rigidities of Policy Governance (TM) and Wesley-style covenants; at the same time, associationism can easily accommodate Policy Governance and Wesley-style covenants, if those prove to be effective organizational structures for local organizations.

Associationism should promote organizational innovation and diversity, and I have tried to show that that has been true historically within Unitarianism and Universalism (and, to a lesser extent, Unitarian Unviersalism). Associationism also supports theological flexibility. Thus, if you are looking for the greatest source of historical continuity between your Unitarian Universalist congregation today, and Unitarians and Universalists of the past, you should not look to theological similarities, nor to organizational similarities. Your theology today is almost certainly quite different from John Murray’s theology, or Samuel West’s theology. A covenant from one of today’s Unitarian Universalist congregations has little or no relationship to an itinerant Universalist preacher in Ohio circa 1810, or to the Iowa Sisterhoodin the 1870s. But we would all share a common reference point in our associationalism. Even though Samuel West was settled in an established Puritan church, he would recognize bylaws and asociational connections between local congregations. Even though that itinerant Universalist had nothing to do with a local congregation, he would have sought out a relationship to a Universalist convention, if he could find one. Even though the Iowa Sisterhood organized their congregations around ideas of home and hearth rather than around ideas of covenant, they would have known the value of maintaining regular communication with other congregations and with regional associations.

Where do we go from here?

I have used historical examples from within our own religious traditions to try to define associationism. My approach here has been descriptive and empirical: I have first looked at the historical record, and then tried to generalize about organization from there (this is in contrast to other writers who start out with a preconceived notion of how we have organized ourselves, and then ignore historical evidence that does not support their original notion). Obviously, my descriptive and historical approach is inadequate. I have ignored vast areas of our history. In the present, associationism continues to evolve in response to changing circumstances. I have also ignored other groups which rely on associationism, including the many flavors of Baptist, the Congregationalists and their descendants, etc.; as well as non-religious groups that use associationism. A fuller picture of associationism would require describing and examining these other groups, but such a task is well outside my limited range of knowledge and ability.

Inadequate though this essay is, it still has a purpose. If I do nothing else, I hope to point the way to ongoing innovation and increased flexibility and innovation. Our Unitarian Universalist associationism has gotten too rigid; we seem unable to respond to changes over time, to say nothing of cultural and regional differences. We have to get beyond second-wave feminist associationism; we can not let our organizational structures privilege educated white upper middle class people of the Baby Boom generation. We have to move towards more flexible organizational structures that will allow our religious movement to reach out to and serve young urbanites, people of color, people in areas where there’s no chance of having a full-time settled ordained minister, people without college educations, etc. Associationism should not put us into a tiny little rigid box; it should allow us to innovate, experiment, incorporate new people; it should help us to maintain communication networks that allow innovation to spread while maintaining broad associational integrity.

This ends this four-part series on associationism. Coming soon: a sequel on practical tools for associationism.

If the title of this post caught your attention, you might want to read a recent article on Alban Institute’s Web site. Here are the opening paragraphs:

“On the cubicle where she works all day, Abby pinned a picture of a church. Where many would keep a photo of family members or beloved pets, Abby has an image of a brownstone building on the Cambridge Common, and she looks at it whenever she feels anxious or unmoored. At 25, Abby has seen more life than the average young adult. She moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts from the West Coast when her high-school sweetheart husband had an opportunity to pursue a graduate degree there. Not long after they relocated, however, the marriage fell apart and left Abby in a city with no stable job, no friends, and no family. What she did have, though, was First Church in Cambridge (FCC), a church she had first found with her husband and that had later helped her through the transition to singlehood. She now views the church as her anchor, and as she considers options for graduate school herself she is seriously considering staying in Cambridge so she does not have to leave the church behind.

“FCC is, in many ways, a typical mainline congregation. The music is usually classical, the liturgy rooted in Christian history and decidedly traditional. Boards and committees make many of the church’s decisions through a conventional governance structure. The ministry staff includes a senior pastor, an interim associate pastor, and a lay minister of religious education. The community where the church is located is highly-educated and liberal, and the church’s stance on social issues reflects this environment. What makes the church truly different from many of its peers is not just that it is growing–many churches do that–but the demographic category that is growing most quickly: Post-collegiate adults in their 20s and 30s. At one New Member Sunday in early 2008, out of 30 new members, 27 were under the age of 35.

“What is their secret?”

To find out the secret, read the whole article. “Setting the Welcome Thermostat,” on Alban’s Web site. (And lest some smug Unitarian Universalists think we have the third tension perfectly balanced, remember that some younger people perceive a doctrinaire theological hegemony of humanism in some UU congregations.)

Part One of this four-part series

Merger and its aftermath

Upon the merger (the legal term was “consolidation”) of the Unitarians and Universalists in 1961, two different forms of associationism had to merge. I find it significant that some of the old Universalist state conventions determinedly maintained their separate corporate identity; such a thing was not practically possible in more centralized Unitarian form of associationism. This also reveals something of the associational rigidity that the Universalists had fallen into; they could not let go of old associational structures; and this does not compare well with the associational innovation of the Unitarians at that time.

The merger of the two forms of associationism proved awkward at best. The Universalists felt like they were being taken over, and from an asosciational point of view that was true. The Unitarians, for their part, forgot to keep on innovating. Dana Greeley, the Unitarian who took over the presidency of the new Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA), acted as if the 1950s were never going to end: he ignored signs that economic growth in the United States was slowing, and he was unable to deal effectively with the changes in society that confronted him, most notably when the Black Power movement came to the UUA. The 1970s were a period of serious decline in the UUA, as the 1950s associational models proved incapable of handling the new society that was emerging: it was not longer enough to start more fellowships and centralize curriculum development; something else had to change.

The first great innovation in the newly-formed Unitarian Universalist Association was second-wave feminism. Second-wave feminism forced Unitarian Universalists to implement profound changes in the way they associated with one another. It was no longer acceptable for an older white man to consolidate power so that he could make executive decisions on his own, the way Samuel Atkins Eliot and Dana Greeley had done. Second-wave feminist associationism emphasized processes in which more voices, particularly the voices of women, could be heard during the decision making process. At its most fully developed, second-wave feminist associationism required consensus decision-making where no decision could be made unless everyone concerned agreed to the decision.

Second-wave feminist associationism completely changed the face of Unitarian Universalism. By forcing the full inclusion of women in the religious associations, it opened the door so that other marginalized groups could be more fully included: gays and lesbians first, then African Americans, then other people of color, and so on. The egalitarianism implicit in second-wave feminist associationism harks back to the egalitarianism that emerged in the earliest Universalist and proto-Unitarians in the late 18th century.

But second-wave feminist associationism had weaknesses. Designed originally by and for middle-class educated white women, second wave feminism did not work as well for working class women and women of color (nor did it work as well for men of color, some GLBTQ persons, non-Anglophones, etc.), who still got shut out of full participation in Unitarian and Universalist religious associations. Consensus, one of the key innovations of second wave feminism, has proved particularly troublesome: consensus is too easily manipulated by powerful articulate educated moneyed people. Political correctness has proved to be a double-edged sword: while political correctness can protect vulnerable persons and groups, charges of political incorrectness can shut down proposed innovations instead of appropriately modifying them (I suspect fear of political correctness has led to a certain rigidity of thought and lack of innovation among moneyed white people, which was certainly not its original intent).

The emergence of today’s associational rigidity

Most troubling, the generation of white middle class women who pioneered second wave feminism in the 1960s and 1970s have clung to whatever power and authority they managed to wrest away from the old boys network that used to dominate the Unitarians and the Universalists. The older old-boys network, and the newer old-girls network, both cling to their power, and in clinging have effectively prevented associational innovation. Our current model of associationism, heavily influenced by second-wave feminism, has essentially lost its effectiveness. Membership growth has stopped in all but a few larger congregations. The last associational innovations we saw, the fellowship movement, and the extension movement to revitalize urban and other dying churches, have been shut down. Unitarian Universalist associationism has been reduced to the following ideal:

A Unitarian Universalist congregation consists of about 200 active members (i.e., an average attendance of 200 adults and children) who support 2 to 2-1/2 full-time-equivalent program staff, including a full-time ordained minister, a part-time lay religious educator and a par-time music director. The congregation is located in well-to-do suburb, or a similar community that will have enough upper middle class educated white persons. There will be about 50 children in the Sunday school (average attendance) and 8 teens in the youth group. The local congregation will participate in the district association by paying its full fair share dues, sending delegates to the annual district meeting, and sending teens to district youth conferences. The local congregation will participate in the national association by paying its full fair share dues, and sending delegates to the annual general assembly of the association; in return, the local congregation depends on the national organization for all programming materials and for its ministers (though not for its non-ordained staff). The congregation, the district, and the national association are each organized using the Carver Policy Governance (TM) model of doing business. Local congregations and the national association are organized around covenants, as defined by Alice Blair Wesley in her influential Minns lectures of 2002.

While this ideal form of associationism — call it Wesley covenantal assocaitionism, based on its most distinctive feature — actually works quite well for a few local congregations, it is not working well at district and national levels; the proof thereof may be found in falling membership across the association. Considered in the context of the history of associationism within Universalism, Unitarianism, and Unitarian Universalism, it appears to be peculiar and almost aberrant: how much does this peculiar covenantal asociationism actually have in common with the itinerant Universalist preacher, the Western Unitarian Conference and the Iowa Sisterhood, or the urban extension movement?

Next: Moving away from rigidity

This week, Facebook has faced severe criticism from European data protection officials, the ACLU, and prominent tech bloggers about its privacy policies. Most of what came out was unsurprising. But then I saw this: “A number of high-profile users have … deleted their Facebook accounts after the site introduced a new feature that lets non-Facebook websites, or third parties, post the personal views of Facebook users without their consent” (full BBC article here).¹ Blah. Does this mean I have suddenly given up my copyright protection for material posted on Facebook without my knowledge? I don’t have the patience to read through Facebook’s constantly-changing user agreement and privacy policy to find out. At least when I post things here, on my own Web site, in the highly unlikely occurrence that someone should rip stuff off, I can feel righteously indignant about it.

¹ Doesn’t this an awful lot like what happened at MySpace a couple of years ago, when they suddenly claimed they had the rights to anything posted on MySpace? Rupert Murdoch and Mark Zuckerberg seem to have about the same low level of morality.

Part One of this four-part series

A historical and descriptive definition: 19th century

The Universalist approach to associationism in the first half of the 19th century had strengths and weaknesses. The decentralization and methodological diversity allowed Universalism to adapt readily to local circumstances, and small Universalist congregations sprang up all over the United States and its territories, and to a lesser extent up into Canada. That same decentralization also meant that there often was no ongoing support and nurture for small new congregations, many of which died out two or three decades after they began.

Meanwhile, the Unitarians found themselves forced into associationism, kicking and screaming as it were. Disestablishment meant that the strongest and most powerful Unitarian congregations suddenly had to learn how to provide their own financial support; not only that, but they also found themselves competing for potential members with a wide range of other denominations (including, of course, the Universalists). The first feeble step towards real associationism came with the establishment of the American Unitarian Association (AUA), so at least there was some central body to distribute Unitarian propaganda; but the AUA was an association of individuals and a few congregations, so it cannot be considered true associationism, an association of congregations, using my definition. The Autumnal Conventions represents the first real emergence of associationism in the Unitarian camp: a few far-sighted individuals decided that delegates from Unitarian congregations needed to meet annually to organize themselves around topics of mutual interest. The Autumnal Conventions were weak associationism, however: many Unitarian congregations did not send delegates (or much care about the Autumnal Conventions), and the Conventions didn’t do all that much.

Associationism among the Unitarians really begins with Henry Whitney Bellows and the National Unitarian Conference in the 1860s; that well-documented story need not be reviewed here. Unitarian associationism is also represented in the old Western Unitarian Conference, which actively promoted connections between congregations, and actively worked to spread Unitarianism in new areas, using innovative methodologies such as encouraging women ministers (e.g., the women ministers known as the “Iowa Sisterhood”). What is important is that Unitarian associationism required neither covenant nor Puritan-style connections between congregations.

On the Universalist side, associationism evolved over the course of the latter half of the 19th century: it had to evolve, because Universalism began to shrink. The methodological and theological diversity, and loose organizational structure, that proved so effective for Universalists in the early 19th century turned out to be a liability in the long run. Early Universalist associationism was too loose, and as local congregations died out for lack of support, Universalists tried to become more tightly organized. They experimented with a creed-like statement in the late 19th century to create theological consistency; conventions tried to exercise more organizational control over local congregations. But the Universalists were not able to focus their efforts effectively.

Many writers have argued that the Universalists began to decline because so many other denominations effectively signed on to the general notion of universal salvation that the Universalists were no longer distinctive. That may be true, but it also seems self-evident that the associationism of the Universalists was not able to evolve quickly enough to keep pace with the societal changes going on. By 1945, there were no Universalist congregations left in Boston, even though the denominational headquarters was in that city; but there were plenty of small Universalist congregations in rural areas, areas which were beginning to see a decline in population. To me, it appears that Universalism declined in the late 19th and early 20th centuries because while Universalist associations were skilled at creating loose associations that functioned well frontier and rural settings, they were unable to organize effectively for the demands of urban environments; yet urbanization, and then suburbanization, were the dominant trends in the United States in the middle 20th century.

A historical and descriptive definition: early 20th century

The Unitarians managed to adapt their associationism to the new demands of urban, and then suburban life. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the American Unitarian Association managed to centralize a good deal of power in its executive office, and that centralized power enabled them to fund and organize new congregations, particularly in the Far West. The AUA funded church buildings, and paid the salaries of ministers, trusting that some of the new congregations would become self-supporting. Another turning point in the history of Unitarian associationism happened in the middle of the Great Depression. Small congregations were dying throughout America, unable to cope with the economic situation. A commission that included James Luther Adams studied the situation, and issued a series of recommendations under the title “Unitarians Face a New Age.” Many of these recommendations led to profound changes in Unitarian associationism; for example, rather than trust independent organizations like the Unitarian Sunday School Society to produce religious education materials, the AUA centralized curriculum production by hiring Sophia Fahs as a curriculum editor; her New Beacon Series of curriculums revolutionized both Unitarian theology and life in local congregations, and arguably was one of the two biggest drivers of the phenomenal growth in Unitarianism in the 1950s.

The Universalists managed to pull themselves back from along slow slide into irrelevance by merging with the Unitarians. Merger negotiations continued through the 1950s. Meanwhile, the Unitarians rolled out another innovation in their associationism, the fellowship movement. Unitarians no longer required new congregations to from “churches” with enough people to financially support a paid minister. Suddenly, new congregations could form as “fellowships,” without a paid minister; all a fellowship needed to enter into formal association with the Unitarians was ten people and regular corporate meetings, along with a formal business structure (i.e., bylaws and financial records). With this innovative new methodology, the Unitarians spread themselves into the new frontier of the rapidly growing suburbs.

Next: Merger and its aftermath>

Abstract: In this four-part essay, I claim that the central organizing principle of Unitarianism, Universalism, and now Unitarian Universalism, has less to do with theology, liturgy, religious practice, etc., and more to do with social and institutional structures. We are unified by an institutional approach which I call associationalism. I define associationalism through describing past and existing associational structures, and then briefly set forth a possible direction for the future of associationism within Unitarian Unviersalism.

A historical and descriptive definition: Beginnings

In terms of organizational structure, Unitarian and Universalist congregations in North America are often closely related to the Congregationalist and Baptist traditions. Stephen Marini has documented how early Universalist congregations in central New England often started out as Baptist congregations; and it is well known that many New England Unitarian congregations began as Puritan congregations, and so are closely related to those Congregationalist congregations that also emerged from the old Puritan Standing order churches. We could say, more broadly, that these are congregations that come out of the English Free Church tradition.

It is important to remember that not all Unitarian and Universalist congregations trace their historical roots back to the English Free Church tradition. The Icelandic Unitarian churches in Canada were founded by liberals from the Icelandic Lutheran tradition, who happened to find a comfortable institutional home within Unitarianism; similarly, Nora Church in Minnesota was founded by liberal Norwegian Lutherans. King’s Chapel in Boston evolved away from its Church of England roots to a Unitarian theology, but it still keeps its revision of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer today. There are churches like First Unitarian Church in Philadelphia and the Independent Christian Church in Gloucester which were founded independently as Unitarian and Universalist churches without any previous denominational connections. And once Unitarians and Universalists traveled West of the Allegheny Mountains, they often had tenuous and even antagonistic connections with eastern churches, and their organizational structures were innovative, diverse, and/or fluid.

Thus it is quite simply wrong to state that all Unitarian Universalist congregations today trace their organizational structures back to the Puritan congregationalist methods captured in 17th century New England political theocracy, church covenants, and documents like the Cambridge Platform. That 17th century New England inheritance is one part of our organizational history, but it is only one part.

If we want to find an organizational structure that applies throughout Unitarian Universalism, instead of looking back to 17th century Puritanism, we would do better to look to the late 18th century in North America. Universalism and Unitarianism began emerging as distinctive religious movements in the last three decades of the 18th century, and these religious movements were inevitably shaped by the historical changes going on around them. Most obviously, the political situation changed very rapidly in those decades: a substantial portion of British North America renounced its allegiance to the crown, set up an independent government, and then had to fight against both troops from overseas and troops from the North American colonies that remained loyal to the crown. People in the 13 breakaway colonies experimented with egalitarianism, with new forms of government, and with new ways of organizing themselves.

Both Universalists and early or proto-Unitarians were involved in the political and intellectual ferment of the late 18th century. Universalist preacher Rev. John Murray was a chaplain in the Continental Army. Proto-Unitarian preacher Rev. Samuel West of Dartmouth, Massachusetts, articulated new ways for people to relate to one another and to governance structures. Both Murray’s church in Gloucester and West’s church in Dartmouth lived out their new egalitarian ideals by admitting African Americans into church membership.

Of the two groups, the group that became Unitarians was more organizationally conservative than the Universalists. It was in the Unitarians’ interest to remain conservative because in several states, most notably Massachusetts, the proto-Unitarians were financially supported by tax dollars. Thus many Unitarian congregations remained enmeshed with the old structures of theocracy, covenant, and Puritan-type connections between congregations. In Massachusetts, most Unitarian congregations remained supported by tax dollars until 1833. Until disestablishment, there was little incentive for Unitarians to spend much effort on organization: the American Unitarian Association began in 1825 as a tract society, to help spread Unitarianism elsewhere, not to organize it where it already existed; the Autumnal Meetings were the first real attempt to organize Unitarianism, and they didn’t begin until after disestablishment in Massachusetts.

The Universalists, however, began creating an organization that I’m going to identify using the term “associationism.” James Luther Adams, the great Unitarian Universalist theologian of the 20th century, wrote extensively about “voluntarism,” that is, the principle of voluntary association as it relates to theology. “Associationism” is a term that is doesn’t have a firm definition (in fact, “associationism” in philosophy refers to psychological concept), but roughly speaking it refers to a form of voluntary association in which local organizations or voluntary associations are connected into a larger association or network of local organizations, by means of written records (minutes of meetings, bylaws, etc.), and formal and informal exchanges between associated local organizations (informal local cooperation, formal regional and national conventions, annual meetings, etc.). “Associationism” is a term that has been used by scholars studying Baptist organizational structures; it is also a term that has been used by scholars studying other types of voluntary associations (e.g., John Bealle’s study of Southern singing schools).

The Universalists held their first national conventions in the late 18th century. By the early 19th century, they had organized state conventions, and had increased the organizational complexity of the national convention. Theirs was a relatively decentralized approach that allowed a good deal of theological, methodological, and liturgical diversity. There was theological diversity: in the first decade of the 19th century, trinitarian John Murray and unitarian Hosea Ballou were both contained within the national convention. There was methodological diveristy: as the frontier territory of Ohio opened up, the Ohio Universalist convention happily included itinerant preachers and settled pastors, lay preachers and ordained ministers. There was liturgical diversity: there were the Universalists who, along with John Murray, eschewed baptism for child dedications, and there were Universalists who did full immersion baptisms in the local rivers.

Next: Associationism in the 19th century

Remember how Mark Zuckerberg started Facebook by allegedly ripping off some code from a Harvard classmate? (I have to say “allegedly” because the lawsuit was eventually settled by Facebook for $65 million, and there was no finding of guilt.)

Well, now four hip programmers, students at New York University, are working on Diaspora. They’re not going to rip anything off, because they’re going to create open source software. BBC reports: “Maxwell Salzberg, Daniel Grippi, Raphael Sofaer and Ilya Zhitomirskiy are the brains behind Diaspora which they describe as ‘the privacy aware, personally controlled, do-it-all distributed open source social network’.” They have raised $25,000 for a summer coding sprint to make the first iteration of Diaspora public.

Boy do I hope they succeed. Facebook sucks. The platform is “disorganized and buggy,” Facebook clearly has no concerns for your personal privacy, and it’s a closed system that reminds me of the bad old days of LiveJournal.

The Unitarian Universalist Association Board, and many other Unitarian Universalists, want to move the 2012 General Assembly scheduled to be held in Phoenix, Arizona, in protest of the recent Arizona law that directs state and local officials to track down illegal immigrants. However, apparently Unitarian Universalist ministers in Arizona and Las Vegas voted unanimously to oppose this move. They would like us all to come to Arizona and engage in public demonstrations against the law instead. As an extra added incentive to listen to the Arizona ministers, I would point out that the cancelation fees alone would cost the UUA something like $650,000 (to say nothing of the added expense of finding another venue at this point).

While researching something completely different, I came upon an obituary in the 1919 volume of The Pacific Unitarian for Helen Kreps. She had been encouraged to enter the Unitarian ministry by Rev. Florence Buck, interim minister in 1910 at the old Palo Alto Unitarian church. By 191, she was a highly promising student at Pacific Unitarian School for the Ministry (now Starr King School for the Ministry) when she died in the great influenza epidemic. I make no claims for the historical importance of this story, but its poignancy makes it worth reprinting here.

From The Pacific Unitarian, vol. 28, no. 3, March, 1919, p. 65:

Helen Katharine Kreps

(Editorial Note. — The above article by President [Earl Morse] Wilbur came just too late for our last issue. Since it was written the deeply lamented death of Miss Kreps ended her heroic struggle. Dr. Wilbur now adds a tribute to her memory.)

About three years ago I received from a young woman in Palo Alto, of whom I had never heard, a request for information about courses of study in our divinity school. Shortly afterwards a member of the staff at Stanford university told me that one of their finest graduates was coming to us to study for the ministry, and mentioned her name with high praise. Later in the spring a slight, girlish-looking person appeared at the school, accompanied by her mother, to make final arrangements for the proposed course of study. Thus I first came to know Helen Kreps. She entered as one of our students in the autumn of 1916, and was thus in her last year when death snatched her from us.

The daughter of Lieutenant Colonel Jacob F. Kreps, U. S. A., Helen was born at an army post in North Dakota in 1894, and spent her early life at various posts from Alaska to New York. But a call from Heaven early touched her heart, and under the inspiration of Rev. Florence Buck’s brief interim ministry at Palo Alto in 1910 she determined to prepare herself for the intervening years. Meantime she graduated at Stanford University in 1915 with high honors, and won membership in the Phi Beta Kappa. Then after a year’s employment in the University library she came to enter the Pacific Unitarian School for the Ministry in August, 1916.

Here we soon realized that we had in our new student one of exceptional quality. Long before the first examinations she evinced that fine penetration of mind, that broad grasp of subjects, and that accurate knowledge,’which come of fine endowments joined to industrious study, and constitute the best scholarship. She never failed to deserve a 1 or even a 1* [sic] in every course, and was well on the way to receive a degree summa cum laude. But even more than with her intellectual qualities were we impressed with those finer and deeper traits which make up personality. Quiet and modest in bearing though she was, never asserting herself or her views, yet we instinctively felt that in her there was depth and breadth of character, and as she moved about among us she won a respect and exerted an influence that belong to few. I remember saying to myself at the end of her first chapel service, in which the depth and sincerity of her religious nature were revealed, that I should count myself happy if she might sometime be my minister; and those who were present at the devotional service which she conducted at the Conference at Berkeley last spring will not soon forget the impression she then made. Had she been spared to enter upon her chosen career, I make not the least doubt that she would speedily have vindicated (had it needed any vindication) the claim of woman to a place of respect and power in pulpit and parish.

Last summer Miss Kreps was so eager to try her powers of flight, and to gain some preliminary experience of church problems and methods, that she was glad to spend a part of the vacation she needed by supplying the pulpit at Santa Cruz, where her message in the pulpit and her visitations among the people at once won her admiration and affection, and also brought her the satisfactions that come to a minister. She returned to school eager to finish her course and to begin active work.

With a father in military service and a brother in the trenches, the burden of the war lay heavy on her sensitive heart. She felt obliged to abandon a thesis in the field of critical scholarship where her work might have won distinction, for lack of heart in it, and must choose a new theme lying closer to the acute needs of the world. Already last year she had taken at the university a Red Cross course in nursing, that she might be ready for active service if an urgent call should come. It came in an unlooked-for way. When the influenza became epidemic on the campus in October and hundreds were suddenly stricken and an emergency call went out for volunteer nurses. Miss Kreps was one of the first to respond. Within a week she herself had contracted the disease, which was soon followed by pneumonia. Her life long hung in the balance. Then she seemed to be getting better. But at length, after four months’ struggle, borne patiently and hopefully, her frail body gave out, and her spirit went home. The end came at the Letterman General Hospital at the Presidio in San Francisco on February 23rd, and interment was in the National Cemetery. The Unitarian ministry and the world are great losers by her going so soon away; but those who knew her have been enriched by her presence, and as long as they live will be moved to live more worthily whenever they think of Helen Kreps.

The Universalist poet Edwin Markham wrote the poem below; he first presented it at a public reading in 1898, and it was first published in the San Francisco Examiner on 15 January 15 1899. The poem was republished many times thereafter, and reportedly earned Markham a quarter of a million dollars over his lifetime.¹ When you read it, you’ll see that it is a poem based on the Universalist notion of the supreme worth of every human being.

In the early 20th century, Markham moved to Staten Island, New York, where he lived on Waters Ave.,¹ not far from where my father lived at that time. My father still remembers Markham’s visit his elementary school. Markham lived in Staten Island until his death in 1940.

The Man with the Hoe

Written after seeing Millet’s World-Famous Painting
     God made man in His own image,
     in the image of God made He him. — Genesis.

Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,—
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this —
More tongued with censure of the world’s blind greed—
More filled with signs and portents for the soul—
More fraught with menace to the universe.

What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time’s tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Judges of the World,
A protest that is also prophecy.

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the Future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings—
With those who shaped him to the thing he is—
When this dumb Terror shall reply to God,
After the silence of the centuries?

It rained again today. So I said to a long-time California resident, “It’s raining! When I moved out here, I was promised that it only rained in the winter. I thought our high rents out here paid for no rain. Doesn’t this void my warranty? Can’t I get my money back?”

Smiling, he said, “It rains eleven months of the year here. And we have land slides, wild fires, the occasional tornado, and the Bay Bridge collapses in earthquakes.”

“So this doesn’t void the warranty?” I said.

Still smiling, he just shook his head. “Land slides, wild fires, earthquakes, tornadoes, this is a terrible place to live. I keep telling this to people, they should stay in the eastern half of the country, they really don’t want to live out here.”

It rained today, and now everything smells fresh, and the trees look a little greener, and the white cumulus clouds drifting by overhead are beautiful.

We completed two garden beds today, both made out of recycled wood, and filled in large part with compost (made by the city) from yard waste. Because we live in a hundred-year-old house, it’s probable that there’s lead in the ground from lead paint, which is why we decided to use raised beds with soil brought in from somewhere else. In the photo below, the nearest garden bed is made from a pallet that we got for free from a store across the street; the further garden bed is made from recycled wood that Carol got at Urban Ore when she was over in Berkeley last month.

It’s always interesting to me to see which fundraisers raise the most money for the least amount of work. Sometimes, the simple easy fundraisers raise more money than the complex difficult fundraisers. For example:

The youth group here at the Palo Alto church is raising money to go to New Orleans for a service project. The ice cream social (ice cream donated by a local merchant) grossed $775 for two hours of work. The New Orleans theme dinner grossed $750, with much higher expenses, and three or four times as much work.

The rains continued right up to the last week of April, which everyone keeps saying is unusual. Everything is still green: the hills in the distance, the unmowed verges along the roads. But now it seems that the rains have ended at last, and the summer-dry season is setting in. As I drove across the Dumbarton Bridge to the East Bay, I noticed that the green hills on the other side of the Bay are already fading to gold in places. And the long grass along part of the road near the church is fading from a brilliant green to a light golden-green, its heavy seedheads nodding in the sun. Soon the hills will fade a golden-brown, and the ground will be parched dry; in the mean time, though, flowers bloom everywhere, the air is thick with pollen, and trees are beginning to set fruit. Another writer living in a Mediterranean climate said this about this time of the year:

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land;
The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

Song of Solomon, 2.10-13, KJV

As I continue to think out loud about covenant in liberal religious congregations, I can think of three cases where having a covenant makes a lot of sense:

(a) Congregations that can trace their institutional roots back to churches that historically had covenants as their central organizing principle. For Unitarian Universalist congregations, this probably means tracing institutional roots back to the mid-19th century or earlier, to churches of the New England Standing Order. The concept of covenant would have to have been kept alive in some form since then; e.g., the New Bedford, Mass., Unitarian church grew out of a Puritan church that had a covenant up through the 19th century, and later maintained that covenant in the way in which newcomers were allowed to join the church as full members (i.e., newcomers have always had to sign a statement stating they would uphold certain moral standards).

(b) Congregations that otherwise derive from churches of the old New England Standing Order, e.g., the Unitarian Universalist Society of Geneva, Illinois (see first post in this series for details).

(c) Congregations that were not originally Puritan, but were nevertheless initially organized around covenant as a central organizing principle. I believe some of our newest congregations were intentionally formed around covenants.

In each of these three cases, in order for covenant to remain viable as a central organizing principle, the covenant must:— be kept theologically fresh by the minister(s) or other theologically sophisticated persons; be constantly presented to new members; and be a part of the day-to-day life of the congregation. That is, in order to be viable, a covenant must be a living document.

Third in a series on covenant. Part one.

Following up on yesterday’s post on covenant, here are two more reasons to get rid of covenant as an organizing principles of Unitarian Universalist congregations:

(5) Enforcement of covenant has become increasingly difficult in Unitarian Universalist congregations. Yahweh/God enforced covenants in the Bible, and he would send plagues, dissension, etc., etc., if his covenant was violated. The Bible stories about covenant served as models for Puritan covenants, although the ultimate enforcer would more probably have been understood to be Christ/God or Trinity/God. For the Puritans, enforcement by a deity was not enough, and covenants were also enforced by human theocracies with power to tax, fine, and/or imprison.

In the absence of general belief in an enforcing god, and in the absence of theocracies (no, the Unitarian Universalist Association is not a theocracy, not by any stretch of imagination), there really is nothing left to enforce the provisions of a covenant except the good will of the people involved. Therefore, it would seem to me that contemporary Unitarian Universalist covenants at best have no more power and authority than bylaws, annual meetings, minutes, all the familiar trappings of associationism; at worst, covenants have significantly less power and authority than does associationism because at least most bylaws have distinct rules for disciplining members by removing them from membership.

In short, most Unitarian Universalist covenants are unenforceable, given our current theological situation.

(6) Covenant as currently constituted in United States Unitarian Universalism is less flexible and more hierarchical than associationism.

Covenantalism has evolved in a hierarchical direction in U.S. Unitarian Universalism. I think many people believe that the covenant embodied by Article 2, “Principles and Purposes,” of the Unitarian Universalist Association takes precedence over the covenants of local congregations; and that the covenants of local congregations must explicitly include the “Principles and Purposes.” Yet at the same time, probably many Unitarian Universalists, if they stopped to think about it, would feel uncomfortable with this kind of hierarchy.

Mind you, hierarchy is not necessarily bad; from an organizational standpoint, hierarchy makes a great deal of sense, and it makes more sense the larger an organization gets. But a hierarchical organization must also retain a great deal of flexibility, and this is where I believe current hierarchical covenantalism breaks down. Our hierarchical covanentalism requires that any new congregations reach certain standards. Hierarchical covenantalism also requires that for a person to be considered a Unitarian Universalist, that person must belong to a local congregation that meets those standards (i.e., must sign on to the covenant of a local congregation that properly adheres to the covenant in Article 2 of the UUA bylaws). Our present organizational structure rules out new-fangled “house churches” and old-style fellowships; this structure tends to rule out storefront congregations operating outside the implicit “franchise system” of the UUA; and this structure has little provision for online religion, congregations that don’t meet weekly, etc. There is a methodological rigidity built in to our current hierarchical covenantalism; associationism is inherently more flexible.

Second in a series on covenant. Part one. Part three.

One final point of interest: If we are going to build a world-wide movement of religious liberalism — and some of us are still committed to such a movement — then associationism, not covenantalism, will continue to be the means of doing so. Associationism is designed to allow the sharing of information and resources while allowing a great deal of local autonomy; the local congregation, and the local association, find the best way of running their organizations given the current local circumstances, yet they also commit to regular communication and sharing with national and international associations. Under associationism, the Transylvanian Unitarians maintain their hierarchical system of bishops, the Phillippino Universalists maintain their unique form of polity (which I don’t quite understand), United States Unitarian Universalists can continue with their hierarchical covenantalism, and each of these groups can participate as equals in the world-wide association of religious liberals. Sometimes I do worry that United States Unitarian Universalists (U.S. UUs) will try to impose their covenantalism on other religious liberals; we are a fairly smug lot, we U.S. UUs, with paternalistic tendencies. If we must continue with covenantalism in the United States, let’s not try to export it overseas.

Let’s get rid of covenant as something that is supposedly at the center of Unitarian Universalism. Here’s why:

(1) In the past 15 or 20 years, various writers have conflated two different organizational principles under the rubric “covenant.” Unitarian churches which began their existence as Puritan churches of the Standing Order did indeed have covenants, that is, documents around which the congregation was organized. However, Universalist congregations and congregations founded well after the Puritan era are far less likely to have been organized as covenantal congregations; instead, the organizational principle was what is best called “associationism”; James Luther Adams studied this organizational principle in his work on voluntary associations. Although the two are often confused, associationism as an organizing principle can be looser and less formal than a covenant; we might consider a covenantalism as a subtype of associationism.

(2) Historically, those congregations that used covenants understood them quite differently than we do now. Congregations of the New England Standing Order consisted of two separate organizational structures. There was the society or the parish, which oversaw the finances, physical plant, etc., and which was organized around the concept of associationism; until those congregations were disestablished, the political structure of the town meeting took care of some of these responsibilities; after disestablishment, this half of a congregation might have been run by a meeting of pew owners, or other meeting, or elected officials, and such meetings were run along the lines of political business meetings. Then there was the church, which oversaw the religious lives of people, and oversaw who got to participate in the eucharist; the church was organized around the covenant; often, members had to make a public declaration of their adherence to the covenant, and a public declaration of adherence to doctrine or creed, before they were allowed as members of the church. Creedal statements, which we now find quite problematic, were often included in covenants.

(3) The concept of covenant has an unfortunate mental associations for people living in the United States: for most people, covenant is most often understood in its legal sense. Legal covenants include restrictive real estate covenants that enforced racial segregation in the past; today, restrictive real estate covenants enforce ecologically unsound behavior by, for example, requiring front lawns or preventing laundry from being hung outside to dry. Therefore, in order for a congregation to organize around a covenant, there needs to be constant education of newcomers as to the religious meaning of covenant, and how it is different from legal covenants.

(4) The concept of covenant has another unfortunate mental association for many people: many people associate covenants with behavioral covenants, documents or agreements which try to alter people’s behavior in specific ways. Indeed, many so-called religious covenants in today’s congregations are actually behavioral covenants. While good behavior is necessary in a congregation, it is not a sufficient principle around which to organize a religious institution.

To sum up, trying to impose a covenant on Unitarian Universalist congregations too often means imposing an alien concept; a concept, furthermore, which is too easily confused with other, non-religious, uses of covenant.¹ I have come to believe that instead of imposing this alien concept on our congregations, we would be better off extending the work of James Luther Adams and others on understanding associationism.

Now I am sure you will tell me what you think about covenant….

First in a series on covenant. Part two. Part three.

¹I can think of a few congregations which use covenant well. The paradigmatic example is the Unitarian Universalist Society of Geneva, Illinois (UUSG): the congregation wrote its first covenant in 1843 based on its members’ having lived in covenantal congregations in New England Standing Order churches prior to disestablishment; the congregation revised the covenant slightly in the 1880s, the covenant received strong theological support through the 50 year ministry of Charles Lyttle in the early 20th century, which support continues in the 30+ year ministry of Lindsay Bates today. UUSG came by its covenant naturally, and continues to support its covenant theologically.

Rev. Scotty McLennan was the preacher here in Palo Alto this morning. After the worship services, dancer Robert Neff and and concertina player Paul Kostka led Maypole dancing. There was also an ice cream social sponsored by the senior high youth group, and the middle school class did a Morris dance (they made me play the Fool in the Morris dance, not because I’m the best dancer, but because they wouldn’t trust me with a stick). Ice cream, good preaching, dancing, hitting sticks — what more could you ask on a perfectly sunny northern California morning?

Over at the blog “Morning Star Rising,” Deb Weiner has an excellent post on setting boundaries and limits in your congregation. Deb begins by asking a couple of questions: “Why, I wonder, do Unitarian Universalists seem to have such difficulty establishing and accepting boundaries and limits?… Do we really believe that affirming the worth and dignity of people means that anything goes?” Deb goes on to give pertinent examples of times when congregations did not set good boundaries, based on her own wide experience in a number of Unitarian Universalist congregations. It’s not just Unitarian Universalists who have this problem, of course: many different kinds of congregations struggle with the same problem. If you’re part of any congregation, it’s worth reading Deb’s well-written post, “Boundaries and Limits.”

I’ll amplify one point in Deb’s post: the same boundaries and limits that apply to members and friends of the congregation also apply to staff and ministers; therefore, it is not OK for someone to yell at your congregation’s DRE or minister, to speak patronizingly to your church’s sexton or custodian, or to treat your congregation’s administrator like a personal servant; people are people, whether they’re on the payroll or not. Thank goodness I’m working in a church where members and friends treat each other, and treat staff and ministers, with courtesy and respect — it makes life pleasant for everyone.

The Pacific Central District of Unitarian Universalist congregations managed to schedule its annual meeting, district assembly, for this Saturday, the same day that Wordcamp is taking place. So I could go to district assembly and hear Paul Rasor talk about theology, or I could go to Wordcamp and learn more about using WordPress as a Website platform.

Much as I’d like to hear Paul Rasor, it’s no contest: if I didn’t have to run an OWL retreat at church on Saturday, I’d go to Wordcamp. Theology is cool, but learning more about how WordPress could power online religion feels like a more pressing need right now. After all, I can always read Paul Rasor’s next book when it comes out. (If you go to Wordcamp SF, leave a comment and let us know what you learned.)

Aretalogy, says Biblical scholar Helmut Koester, is “the enumeration of the great deeds of a god or goddess (e.g. Isis) or of a divinely inspired human being (a ‘divine man’).” The word is derived from arete, meaning a virtue or powerful act. More broadly, aretalogy is the study of virtues as they are embodied in divine or haumn exemplars.

Aretalogy can take different forms: a simple listing of the subject’s virtues; a series of stories, each of which demonstrates a virtue of the subject; a series of miracle stories. I would distinguish aretalogy from hagiography; a hagiography is a worshipful or laudatory biography, that is, a more coherent narrative than a listing of, or a series of stories demonstrating, virtues.

Liberal religion has generally rejected hagiography, considering saints and their biographies religiously unimportant. Liberal religion tends to attenuate the vertical dimension of religion, that is, tends to de-emphasize supernatural divinity. Rather than relying on divinities or saints to enforce moral and ethical norms, religious liberals are far more likely to turn to great human beings as exemplars of moral and ethical virtues. And rather than using coherent biographical narratives to tell about these great human beings, religious liberals are far more likely to pick an outstanding virtue that a great human being represents, and tell a story or stories that exemplify that virtue.

Thus, Universalists use aretalogy to talk about John Murray, and they tell the miracle story of his arrival in North America, and stories of his fearlessness in the face of opposition to his Universalist preaching. Some Unitarians use aretalogy to talk about Thomas Jefferson, and they tell stories of his free-thinking approach to the Bible. Like hagiography, aretalogy is likely to present only the good side of its subject; thus aretalogy ignores that John Murray was a trinitarian; and aretalogy ignores the fact that Thomas Jefferson kept slaves. The point of aretalogy is not to present a coherent, reasoned narrative of a person’s life; instead, the purpose of aretalogy is to enumerate virtues.

It is helpful to learn to recognize aretalogy when trying to make sense out of liberal theology. For example, when Unitarians continue to claim to Thomas Jefferson as a Unitarian, you might at first consider this claim to be unreasonable, since any reasoned narrative account of Jefferson’s life would reveal that Jefferson actually attended an Episcopalian church, and never set foot inside a Unitarian church. But the Unitarian claim on Jefferson is not part of a reasoned, coherent narrative biography; instead, it is a part of a Unitarian aretalogy that has less to do with Jefferson as a real live human being, and more to do with enumerating Unitarian virtues (in this case, the virtue of challenging the literal truth of the Bible).

I got another phone call today from someone whose family is on the financial edge, making enough money so they don’t qualify for any assistance, but not making enough money to live on. I had basically no money to give away; no agency has much money to give away right now; there are too many people in the same situation.

When you get phone calls like that, it is difficult to hear about the huge sums of money Wall Street bankers get. It is difficult to watch as the news media pay too little attention to the fact that tons of people are out of work, underemployed, or otherwise financially desperate. And it is difficult to listen to the selfish rhetoric that passes for politics in this country.

Ed¹ pointed me to an article on religion in yesterday’s Boston Globe that asserts that different religions are not different paths to the same basic wisdom. Stephen Prothero’s essay “Separate Truths” begins by saying:

At least since the first petals of the counterculture bloomed across Europe and the United States in the 1960s, it has been fashionable to affirm that all religions are beautiful and all are true. This claim, which reaches back to “All Religions Are One” (1795) by the English poet, printmaker, and prophet William Blake, is as odd as it is intriguing. No one argues that different economic systems or political regimes are one and the same. Capitalism and socialism are so self-evidently at odds that their differences hardly bear mentioning. The same goes for democracy and monarchy. Yet scholars continue to claim that religious rivals such as Hinduism and Islam, Judaism and Christianity are, by some miracle of the imagination, both essentially the same and basically good.

In reality, of course, different religions are, well, different. I got over my fascination with Buddhism when I realized that nirvana seemed too much like nothingness for me to want to aspire to it; I’d rather be compost when I died, not mere nothingness. As Prothero points out, different religions may share the same starting point, but they take different journeys which end up in different places:

What the world’s religions share is not so much a finish line as a starting point. And where they begin is with this simple observation: Something is wrong with the world. In the Hopi language, the word “Koyaanisqatsi” tells us that life is out of balance. Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” tells us that there is something rotten not only in the state of Denmark but also in the state of human existence. Hindus say we are living in the “kali yuga,” the most degenerate age in cosmic history. Buddhists say that human existence is pockmarked by suffering. Jewish, Christian, and Islamic stories tell us that this life is not Eden; Zion, heaven, and paradise lie out ahead.

So religious folk agree that something has gone awry. They part company, however, when it comes to stating just what has gone wrong, and they diverge even more sharply when they move from diagnosing the human problem to prescribing how to solve it. Moreover, each offers its own distinctive diagnosis of the human problem and its own prescription for a cure. Each offers its own techniques for reaching its religious goal, and its own exemplars for emulation.

Good hearted Unitarian Universalists are often guilty of believing that all religions ultimately have the same goal, and we even sometimes believe that we get to choose the most attractive religion, the path that attracts us most. But to say this glosses over the differences between religions, and too often becomes a way of reducing other religions to our own pet beliefs; this attitude causes us to be intolerant of real religious differences, and ultimately disrespectful of other religions. It’s a kind of cultural imperialism, taking over other religions to serve our own ends. Since tolerance is one of our chief values as Unitarian Universalists, it behooves us to remember that true tolerance grows out of acknowledging and respecting real differences.

You can read Prothero’s full article online; it’s adapted from his new book, God is Not One: The Eight Rival Religions That Run the World and Why Their Differences Matter.

———

¹ A propos of nothing, Ed is the only person I know who has a mountain named after him.

One of my pastimes is singing Sacred Harp music, traditional American four-part sacred song. It is rough, loud, driving music, sort of like hardcore punk rock for church, with the same punk anyone-can-do-it ethos. The soundtrack of the video below is a live recording from last Saturday’s Golden Gate All-Day Singing (the visuals are just random photos from the same event).

A little bit of explanation: (1) In Sacred Harp music, you almost always sing through each song first with four solfege syllables: fa, sol, la, and mi. Since each part is singing their own solfege syllables, this can sound like some bizarre Phillip Glass opera. (2) The music is loud — my ear were ringing by the end of the day — so to get the full effect, plug in your earphones and crank up the sound. (3) If you want to know more, visit www.fasola.org. If you don’t want to know more, and instead want to run screaming in the other direction at the unpolished sound of this roots music, feel free to do so at any time.

Jack pointed me to a recent piece on Salon.com, “Why I Finally Joined a Church,” written by someone who joined a Unitarian Universalist church to get her children in the religious education program.

As Jack says, “A good ad for us.”

Another story in a series for liberal religious kids, this one from the Taoist tradition.

Thousands of years ago, Huang-ti, the Yellow Emperor, reigned for a hundred years in the country of Ch’i.

For the first fifteen years of his reign, he took great pleasure in his position. He rejoiced that all the people in the Empire looked up to him as their emperor. He took great care of his body. He ate well, and took the time to enjoy beautiful sights and sounds. But in spite of this, he became sad and depressed, and his face looked haggard and ill.

So Huang-ti decided to change his ways. He saw that the Empire faced great trouble and disorder. For the next fifteen years of his reign, he worked night and day to rule the people with wisdom and intelligence. But in spite of all his efforts, he remained sad and depressed and his face still looked haggard and ill.

At the end of this second fifteen year period, Huang-ti sighed heavily. “I was miserable in the first fifteen years of my reign, when I devoted all my attention to myself and my own needs, and paid no attention to the Empire. I was miserable in the second fifteen years of my reign when I devoted all of my time and energy to solving the problems of the Empire and paid no attention to myself.

“I see now that all my efforts have not succeeded in establishing good government,” he said. “I see now that all my efforts have not succeeded in making myself happy. I have only succeeded in ruining my spiritual life.”

So he left beautiful rooms he lived in within the palace and dismissed all his servants and attendants. He went to live in a small building off to one side of the palace. He stopped eating all the rich food they served in the palace, and began to eat just ordinary food. He sat by himself for three months purifying his mind.

Then one day, he took a nap in the middle of the day. While he was asleep, he dreamt that he traveled to the kingdom of Hua-hsü, a place which was tens of thousands of miles from the country of Ch’i. The kingdom of Hua-hsü could not be reached by ship, or by any vehicle, or even traveling by foot. Only a soul could make the journey….

There was no rule in the kingdom of Hua-hsü. Everything simply went on of its own accord. The people who lived in Hua-hsü did not feel joy in living, nor did they fear dying, so they never died before their time. They were not attached to themselves, and they were not indifferent to other people, so they felt neither love nor hatred. They did not refuse to act in one way, nor did they pursue another course of action, so profit and loss did not exist in their country. They simply followed their natural instincts. Water had no power to drown them, nor fire to burn; cuts and blows caused them neither injury nor pain, tickling could not make them laugh.

They could walk through the air as though they were walking on solid earth. They slept lying in the middle of the air as though resting in a bed. They could see through clouds and mist, thunder did not deafen them, physical beauty did not affect them, steep mountains and deep valleys could not slow them down. They moved about like gods and goddesses….

Huang-ti awoke from the dream. He called for his three advisors and told them what he had seen. “For the last three months, I have been sitting here thinking about how I could take care of my own needs while also ruling the lives of my subjects fairly and wisely,” Huang-ti said. “It is impossible to take care of myself, and it is impossible to rule others fairly and wisely. I could not find the Perfect Way.

“When these thoughts tired me out, I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed this dream. Now I know that the Perfect Way cannot be found through the senses. Now I know the Perfect Way, but I cannot tell you about it, because you cannot use your sense to learn the Perfect Way.”

That was all the Yellow Emperor said.

For the rest of his life, everything in the country of Ch’i was calm and orderly, almost as calm and orderly as in the kingdom of Hua-hsü. And when at last Huang-ti died, the people in the country of Ch’i mourned his death for more than two hundred years.

———

Sources: Taoist teachings translated from the Book of Lieh-Tzü, Book II “The Yellow Emperor,” trans. Lionel Giles, 1912. Supporting source: Alchemists, Mediums, and Magicians: Stories of Taoist Mystics, trans. and ed. Thomas Cleary, p. 8 n. 29. N.B.: This could be a troubling story for some religious liberals. The notion that the best leaders are those who do no work will be anathema to religious liberals who have come out of Protestantism, and who, while they might have become post-Christian in theology, have not abandoned the Protestant work ethic. Yet a documentary approach to telling religious stories should not soften the essential foreignness of other religions, when such foreignness is present.

Earth Day photos:

Is your church budget strained? Trying to support a building that’s just too darned big? Stephen Leacock has described how the people of Mariposa, in Missinaba County, in Canada, handled the financial problems of their Church of England congregation, and at the same time supported their rector, Dean Drone. Leacock’s story is immediately below; my commentary appears after Leacock:

———

“The fire had broken out late, late at night, and they fought it till the day. The flame of it lit up the town and the bare grey maple trees, and you could see in the light of it the broad sheet of the frozen lake, snow covered still. It kindled such a beacon as it burned that from the other side of the lake the people on the night express from the north could see it twenty miles away. It lit up such a testimony of flame that Mariposa has never seen the like of it before or since. Then when the roof crashed in and the tall steeple tottered and fell, so swift a darkness seemed to come that the grey trees and the frozen lake vanished in a moment as if blotted out of existence.

“When the morning came the great church of Mariposa was nothing but a ragged group of walls with a sodden heap of bricks and blackened wood, still hissing here and there beneath the hose with the sullen anger of a conquered fire. Round the ruins of the fire walked the people of Mariposa next morning, and they pointed out where the wreck of the steeple had fallen, and where the bells of the church lay in a molten heap among the bricks, and they talked of the loss that it was and how many dollars it would take to rebuild the church, and whether it was insured and for how much. And there were at least fourteen people who had seen the fire first, and more than that who had given the first alarm, and ever so many who knew how fires of this sort could be prevented.

“Most noticeable of all you could see the sidesmen and the wardens and Mullins, the chairman of the vestry, talking in little groups about the fire. Later in the day there came from the city the insurance men and the fire appraisers, and they too walked about the ruins, and talked with the wardens and the vestry men. There was such a luxury of excitement in the town that day that it was just as good as a public holiday.

“But the strangest part of it was the unexpected sequel. I don’t know through what error of the Dean’s figures it happened, through what lack of mathematical training the thing turned out as it did. No doubt the memory of the mathematical professor was heavily to blame for it, but the solid fact is that the Church of England Church of Mariposa turned out to be insured for a hundred thousand, and there were the receipts and the vouchers, all signed and regular, just as they found them in a drawer of the rector’s study. There was no doubt about it. The insurance people might protest as they liked. The straight, plain fact was that the church was insured for about twice the whole amount of the cost and the debt and the rector’s salary and the boarding-school fees of the littlest of the Drones all put together.

“There was a ‘Whirlwind Campaign’ for you! Talk of raising money,— that was something like! I wonder if the universities and the city institutions that go round trying to raise money by the slow and painful method called a ‘Whirlwind Campaign,’ that takes perhaps all day to raise fifty thousand dollars, ever thought of anything so beautifully simple as this.

“The Greater Testimony that had lain so heavily on the congregation went flaming to its end, and burned up its debts and its obligations and enriched its worshippers by its destruction. Talk of a beacon on a hill! You can hardly beat that one.

“I wish you could have seen how the wardens and the sidesmen and Mullins, the chairman of the vestry, smiled and chuckled at the thought of it. Hadn’t they said all along that all that was needed was a little faith and effort? And here it was, just as they said, and they’d been right after all.

“Protest from the insurance people? Legal proceedings to prevent payment? My dear sir! I see you know nothing about the Mariposa court, in spite of the fact that I have already said that it was one of the most precise instruments of British fair play ever established. Why, Judge Pepperleigh disposed of the case and dismissed the protest of the company in less than fifteen minutes! Just what the jurisdiction of Judge Pepperleigh’s court is I don’t know, but I do know that in upholding the rights of a Christian congregation — I am quoting here the text of the decision — against the intrigues of a set of infernal skunks that make too much money, anyway, the Mariposa court is without an equal. Pepperleigh even threatened the plaintiffs with the penitentiary, or worse.

“How the fire started no one ever knew. There was a queer story that went about to the effect that Mr. Smith and Mr. Gingham’s assistant had been seen very late that night carrying an automobile can of kerosene up the street. But that was amply disproved by the proceedings of the court, and by the evidence of Mr. Smith himself. He took his dying oath,— not his ordinary one as used in the License cases, but his dying one,— that he had not carried a can of kerosene up the street, and that anyway it was the rottenest kind of kerosene he had ever seen and no more use than so much molasses. So that point was settled.

“Dean Drone? Did he get well again? Why, what makes you ask that? You mean, was his head at all affected after the stroke? No, it was not. Absolutely not. It was not affected in the least, though how anybody who knows him now in Mariposa could have the faintest idea that his mind was in any way impaired by the stroke is more than I can tell. The engaging of Mr. Uttermost, the curate, whom perhaps you have heard preach in the new church, had nothing whatever to do with Dean Drone’s head. It was merely a case of the pressure of overwork. It was felt very generally by the wardens that, in these days of specialization, the rector was covering too wide a field, and that if he should abandon some of the lesser duties of his office, he might devote his energies more intently to the Infant Class. That was all. You may hear him there any afternoon, talking to them, if you will stand under the maple trees and listen through the open windows of the new Infant School….

“So you will understand that the Dean’s mind is, if anything, even keener, and his head even clearer than before. And if you want proof of it, notice him there beneath the plum blossoms reading in the Greek: he has told me that he finds that he can read, with the greatest ease, works in the Greek that seemed difficult before. Because his head is so clear now.

“And sometimes,— when his head is very clear,— as he sits there reading beneath the plum blossoms he can hear them singing beyond, and his wife’s voice.”

———

Thus ends Stephen Leacock’s account of the financial salvation of the C of E church in Mariposa. This is taken from “The Beacon on the Hill,” the sixth chapter of Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town, available from Project Gutenberg as a text file.

The only comment I will add is that years ago I was in a neighborhood bar — a friendly, conversational sort of place — with two staff people from a Unitarian Universalist district. We were talking about a nearby Unitarian Universalist congregation that was facing financial and other kinds of problems. One district staff person said to the other, “There’s nothing about that church that one well-placed match couldn’t fix.” But the cost of such a fix will not be zero.

Thanks to Scott for prompting this post.

I went to get new automobile insurance today. The insurance agent politely asked me for various pieces of information. “Occupation?” she said, looking at her computer screen while she typed.

“Minister,” I said.

She stopped typing and looked me in the eyes. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” she said. “Are you seeing more people in your church recently? Because of the economy?”

“Not really,” I said. “But I’m seeing more desperate people. People without a job, no money, that sort of thing. I think it’s maybe worse here on the Peninsula because everyone has such high expectations for themselves.”

She nodded. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?” We both sat there for a second, and then she went back to entering information into the computer.

If you’re in the Bay area, come check out the sixth annual Golden Gate Sacred Harp singing in Berkeley this Saturday, April 24. You’ll experience singing from an American tradition of sacred music that can be traced back to the 18th century, when New England ministers and musicians banded together to improve the poor quality of congregational singing in their day.

Sacred Harp singing is bold and loud, full-throated singing with a strong rhythmic drive that’ll get your feet tapping. According to this short video, it is increasingly being sung by “young urbanites.” (And yes, my regular Sacred Harp group has a much greater percentage of people under 30 than does my Unitarian Universalist church.)

We’ll be at the Finnish Brotherhood Hall, 1970 Chestnut Street, Berkeley (close to BART). Look for me at the registration table mid-morning. Free and open to the public — beginners welcome — loaner books available. Check out the website for all the details: http://www.fasola.org/sf/goldengate/

New podcast up on the Palo Alto Chidren’s Religious Education blog. Joe Chee and I discuss two questions: What do we do when we have children in our Sunday school classes who don’t fit neatly into the common patterns of development? How do we accommodate and embrace children with different language and social skills?

April 19 is the anniversary of the Battle of Concord and Lexington in 1775, a minor military engagement that wound up having major political repercussions. Patrick Murfin has one of the best summaries of the events of that day that I’ve seen in a long time, and you should go check it out.

As someone who lived the first 42 years of his life mostly in Concord, and who worked for several years at the church on Lexington Green, it has been interesting to watch over the years as different political groups have tried to claim that the participants in the Battle of Concord and Lexington agreed with some narrow political ideology of the present day. In 1975, quasi-leftists staged a “people’s” celebration of the bicentennial of the battle, saying that the British colonials who presented armed resistance to His Majesty’s troops were in fact aligned with what was then called the New Left. More recently, right-wingers are wrapping themselves in quasi-colonial costumes, saying that the British colonials who presented armed resistance to His Majesty’s troops were in fact aligned with what is now called the “Tea Party” movement.

Both these claims, and all similar claims, have little to do with historical fact, and must be dismissed as silly. The 18th century men and women in the colonies of British North America inhabited a very different political and social world than we do in the early 21st century. Those 18th century men and women were colonials, subjects of the worldwide British empire. They were also subjects of an 18th century constitutional monarchy, and they owed allegiance to the person of King George. As colonials, they were subject to the laws promulgated by Parliament, yet they had no elected representation in Parliament. As colonials, whatever local government they had could be removed or replace by His Majesty’s government; in fact, that’s exactly what had happened, and the colonials had had essentially no political recourse when their elected officials were removed from office. Any recent citizen of the United States — and that includes the Tea Partyites and the old New Leftists — inhabits a very different political world than the colonials of British North America.

In my years living and working in Concord and Lexington, I saw plenty of political infighting; Lexington had a particularly nasty split between liberals and conservatives. But on April 19, we all tried to put aside our present-day politics. In Concord and Lexington, everyone is a patriot on April 19 (yes, even the guys who dress up as Redcoats in the re-enactments of the battle). We knew that trying to claim the battle for one or another present-day political ideology was bad form, serving merely to distract us all from the serious duties of knowing the historical facts as accurately as possible, and celebrating the courage and commitment of those long-ago men and women.

Even as I write this, the re-enactors have just moved across Lexington Green for the second time today, this time with the colonial militia and minutemen in hot pursuit of His Majesty’s regulars. There’s no one re-enacting the role of Tea Partyites, because there were no Tea Partyites back in 1775, no New Left, no small-minded politicians trying to claim a mantle that wasn’t theirs to claim. There were only men and women, both black and white, slowly and painfully, sometimes bloodily, working their way towards a new political system that was still only vaguely imagined.

From my teaching notes of 11 April 2010:

Over 20 children, ages 4 through 11, at the 9:30 session; school vacation week for many kids so we expected low attendance and had all the kids together. I had my doubts about having the preschoolers in the class, but thought it was worth a try. C—, one of the older kids, volunteered to light chalice; turns out he had never lit a match before, so I talked him through it while reviewing fire safety for the benefit of all kids.

Read aloud the story “The Sandy Road,” from Ellen Babbit’s retelling of Jataka tales (Appanna Jataka, or Appanaka Jataka, tale no. 1). The children were completely attentive while I was reading.

Then we acted it out. There were enough major roles for all the older children (gr. 4 & 5) who wanted one: the wicked demon and helpers, the foolish merchant, the wise merchant. The children were very inventive in acting the story out: the smallest children were the oxen, and they dragged chairs as their wagons; they were very focused on dragging their chairs. The children were much less attentive while we were getting ready to act the story out, and I did my usual thing and tried to talk over them — this never works well, but I have a big voice and have gotten into the bad habit of relying on it.

Finally we settled down and actually acted the story out. Still lots of giggling and silliness, more than usual; a general lack of focus. Ch— came in late, and so we had an audience who didn’t know the story; she was able to say when she didn’t understand what was going on, which also helped focus the children.

When we discussed the story, I asked whether it was true or not (consensus: No, it’s a fairy tale). Then I asked what the story meant: Don’t believe everything you hear. Don’t throw things away needlessly. Etc. Not surprisingly, none of the children came up with the interpretation that Buddha offers in the framing story, that in the wilderness of life the real refuge is the truths that Buddha teaches (“Those who have refuge in the Buddha / Shall not pass hence to states of suffering”); or, more generally, that religious truths can be a refuge from the vicissitudes of life. There are several layers to this story; and this is one story where it seems wise not to include the framing story where Buddha explains it (see, e.g., The Jataka: Stories of the Buddha’s Former Births vol. 1, ed. E. B. Cowell, trans. Robert Chalmers, pp. 1-4).

After the discussion, I told the children we were going to try meditating (I did not explain to the children that meditation can be one of those real refuges in life). Some of the older children immediately struck exaggerated “mediation poses”: lotus position, hands held palm up on knees, back stiff, head held stiffly back, big grins on faces while saying “Ommm!” So I explained the correct way to sit, showed them a real mudra. I said younger children, four and five year olds, were usually better at meditation than older kids — that of course made the older kids competitive. I asked: How long should we try to meditate, a minute? No no, said older kids, two minutes! Five minutes! We did it for a minute. I processed with kids afterwards: H—, you were really good, at about 20 seconds you started to lose it, but then you settled down, that’s the hardest thing about meditation, to come back to stillness when you start to get squirmy. I also complimented the youngest children who were indeed the best at sitting still.

The children wanted to try meditating again: Two minutes this time! Unwisely, I said we could — but we could all hear the adults coming out of the worship service, so the older kids all lost it at 20 seconds. I did a quick closing reading, and then we all left; some parents were indeed waiting outside.

Deb Weiner is now blogging at Morning Stars Rising. Just two posts so far, but the writing is good and I’m looking forward to seeing what direction this new blog takes.

It’s amazing to me how many people these days believe that “democracy” means “I get what I want, and screw you.” — I threw this line out in a comment to an earlier post, and then it occurred to me that many congregations hold annual meetings at this time of year, and so democracy is . Here are six additional brief statements about democracy that elaborate on this bare statement:

I/ Democracy is a form of self-abnegation. Yes, each individual in a democracy should receive some personal benefit. But each person in a democracy also has to contribute time, energy, money, etc., to that democracy. As a rule of thumb, each of us should expect to feel as though we are contributing far more than we receive as individuals; because we humans are more likely to be aware of what we do for others, than we are aware of what others do for us.

II/ A corollary to statement I: Just because you feel you give more time, money, energy, whatever, to the democracy does not mean you should have more influence than the next person. The basic principle of a democracy is that one person gets one vote; and each vote (yes, even your vote) is worth the same as everyone else’s vote (yes, your vote is worth the same as the person you despise and whom you think does not give enough time and money to the congregation). And of course you probably give less to the democracy than you think you do (see statement I).

III/ Participation in a democracy means you have to do more than show up once a year for an annual meeting, or fill out a ballot once a year. Each individual in a democracy is morally required to inform themselves about what’s going on as much as possible. This means that leaders in a democracy are required to maintain open processes to allow full participation: they must provide accurate, relevant information early in the process and throughout the process, and they must provide plenty of opportunities for individuals to ask questions, provide additional information, and talk about alternatives.

IV/ Everyone in a democracy must keep in mind that just because someone is loud and articulate, that doesn’t mean they are either correct, or that they are supported by a majority; all it means is that they are loud and articulate. Ignore the squeaky wheels.

V/ Those of us in congregational democracies must not be unduly influenced by the extremely poor democracy we are currently witnessing in the United States at large. We are not allowed to dress up in pseudo-Revolutionary garb and say that now that we’ve lost the vote we’re going to topple the government and scream and yell and call Barney Frank a “fag”; similarly, we are not allowed to blithely pass a deficit budget and claim that no one is going to have to pay any more money in taxes, because the revenue side of the ledger is magic and the money will magically come out of nowhere. Both these types of behavior seem to be endemic within Unitarian Universalism. We must avoid the dual temptations of rancor-filled obstructionism, and spend-but-don’t-tax liberalism.

VI/ One final point: When you lose a vote, if the leadership does something you don’t like, if you’re pissed off for any reason — democracy requires you to stay engaged. Withholding your pledge, fomenting opposition, etc., are all tactics that undermine democracy and promote authoritarianism. You have a binary choice: stay fully engaged, or leave quietly; there is really no middle ground.

Joy is spending six months in Mexico, and she’s publishing “En Mexico,” a blog full of photos. It’s fun to get a Unitarian Unviersalist viewpoint on everything from religion to daily life in a foreign country.

uuworld.org, the official news Web site of the Untiarian Universalist Association, reported on Monday that Unitarian Universalism (UUism) has declined in the United States for a second straight year. The actual decline is small: down 267 adult members in 2009, a decline of 0.16 percent. Given that membership numbers are somewhat fictional to begin with, and given that many congregations are determinedly purging their membership rolls in order to reduce their annual Fair Share financial contribution to the denomination, we can console ourselves that perhaps we’re not really declining.

The really depressing news is that religious education enrollment for children and youth has been declining since 2002. And in 2009 it declined a lot: “Religious education enrollment dropped 1,262, for a total of 55,846 children and youth this year. A year ago it dropped 809. In 2002 it was 60,895.”

This is a clear downward trend that cannot be explained away. Considering that we are in the midst of a population surge for children, with birthrates that highest they’ve been since the tail end of the Baby Boom of the early 1960s, this is especially depressing news.

I believe several things are contributing to the decline of our religious education program. First is the old familiar problem we often face: those who are already in our congregations cling to the programs that they like, without thinking about how they might serve those who aren’t currently a part of our congregations. This problem has been addressed frequently elsewhere, and if you read the standard literature on church growth you’ll find plenty of excellent suggestions on addressing this problem.

A second problem is an assumption that declining programs can be fixed by instituting a new curriculum (e.g., Tapestry of Faith), or by getting rid of traditional Sunday school and trying something new (e.g., small group ministries for kids, Spirit Play, kids in entire worship service, etc.). But changing one element of a congregational system is not going to change underlying structural problems. Here in the Palo Alto church, a variety of innovative and wonderful religious education programs have been tried over the past decade and a half, but the underlying limitations remain — the big problem in our case being that we have lost dedicated religious education space to rentals and offices, which reveals that we no longer have a church culture that places children at the center of our community.

A third problem that I see is that there is little meaningful theological component to most of our religious education materials. The New Beacon Series of the early 20th C. was grounded by Sophia Fahs’s compelling theological vision of religious naturalism, a very low Christology, and cross-cultural awareness — think of Jesus the Carpenter’s Son and Beginnings of Earth and Sky. Some of the multimedia programs of the 1960s and 1970s were grounded in existential theology, particularly that of Tillich — think of the About Your Sexuality curriculum, which helped teenagers define who they were through their sexual decisions, and Haunting House. In the 1980s, we saw the emergence of Unitarian Universalist identity and, even more so, feminist theology as central theological concepts that were embraced by a loose network of independent curriculum developers — think of Hide and Seek with God for a brilliant exposition of feminist theology.

Since then I just haven’t seen any religious education curriculum with a compelling theological component. Spirit Play is grounded on a compelling pedagogical method, but the program has little theological interest. Small group ministries for kids is likewise focused on methodology, not theology. Some of the curriculums for the Tapestries of Faith program are really quite excellent, but again there’s no compelling theology running through them.

Nor should we be surprised at this. We Unitarian Universalists have been working hard to reduce theology to the “Seven Principles,” anti-racism, social justice, and the debates between humanists and theists. We religious educators have been scared to ground our programs and curriculums in serious theology — we know that if we mention God, we will be excoriated by the fundamentalist humanists and the hardline neo-pagans, and if we don’t mention God the crusading UU Christians will yell at us. So we talk about Jesus in the most mealy-mouthed namby-pamby way possible, we avoid talking about God except to assure kids that God is not a white man with a white beard on a white cloud, and we offer no compelling vision for how a religious naturalism or religious humanism could guide our lives. When we do anti-racism and theology, we daren’t mention the theological grounding of what we’re doing. We teach mostly in negatives, and the few things we affirm are so vague (the artfully vague “Seven Principles”) or so ungrounded (our anti-racism and social justice work) or so outdated (the humanist-theist debate) that families leave us in droves.

In a later post, I’ll reveal the magic formula that will change the way we do religious education and attract tons of families into our congregations, reversing 8 years of decline. (Now all I have to do is figure that magic formula out myself so I can write about it….)

I just got back from a ministers’ retreat in St. Francis Retreat, San Juan Bautista, California. A Coast Live Oak woodland ecological community predominates on the hillside behind the retreat center, and at this time of year everything is still damp. I saw a salamander on the trail, mushrooms sprouting up around the trunks of the oaks, and tiny wildflowers everywhere there was some sun.

Coast Live Oak (Quercus agrifolia), draped with Fishnet Lichen (Ramalina menziesii), and with unidentified bryophytes on trunk.

Now uploaded on Flickr: 8 photos of this Coast Live Oak woodlands.

In a recent comment on a post about altered Barbie dolls, Jean talks about the kinds of things that zombie dolls of various professions would eat, e.g., plumber Barbie, when turned into a zombie, eats DRAINS!! Obvious geek joke:

Physicist zombie Barbie, who specializes in string theory, what does she eat? BRANES!!

Oh, and Religious Studies zombie Barbie? She eats JAINS!!

Out here in the Bay area, we are used to people who alter Barbie in various ways. After all, San Francisco is the home of the Altered Barbie art show and artist community. But now even the Washington Post has picked up on the altered Barbie trend.

Astute reader E sent along a link to a Post article about Episcopal priest Barbie. The article links to Rev. Ms. Barbie’s Facebook page, which is priceless not just for the beautiful fashion photos showing Ms. Barbie with surplice, cassock, thurible, etc., but also for the many comments, some of which are admiring and some of which are entirely disapproving. The Post also links to an earlier Religion News Online article, which had the headline “Barbie gets ordained and has the smells-and-bells wardrobe to match.” Excuse me, bub, that’s Rev. Ms. Barbie to you. And there’s a link to Unitarian Universalist blogger Peacebang’s “Beauty Tips for Ministers,” who has already posted on Episcopal Priest Barbie.

I note that Rev. Ms. Julie Blake Fisher, the maker of Episcopal Priest Barbie, lives in the midwest, proving yet again that the midwest, not the coasts, is the home of the most subversive craftspeople in the U.S. There are rumors that a midwestern craftsperson is even now working on a similar project for Unitarian Universalist ministers: Rev. Mr. Sock Monkey.

Update: Blogging at Blag Hag, Jen McCreight, a “a liberal, geeky, nerdy, scientific, perverted atheist feminist trapped in Indiana,” has created Atheist Barbie, who wears a Flying Spaghetti Monster necklace. Apparently BoingBoing even picked up on McCreight’s post, which means she probably exceeded her bandwidth limitations this month. I just want to say that from my point of view, a Flying Spaghetti Monster necklace does much more for an outfit than a thurible; accessories really do make the outfit. Did I mention McCreight was from the midwest?

Fourth in an occasional series of essays in unsystematic liberal theology, in which I assume theology is a literary genre more than a science, a conversation more than a monologue, descriptive rather than prescriptive.

Religious liberals perceive themselves as being profoundly ambivalent about God. There are the death-of-God people, there are the humanists, there are the moral atheists, there are the traditionalist theists, there are those who tell the local clergyperson, “I’ll believe whatever I want to believe.”

While most religious liberals believe that they can never agree on questions concerning God, in fact we religious liberals all share several basic beliefs about God:

— We all share a belief in heterodoxy, that is, that our opinions about God will differ. Some of the more theologically sophisticated among us are aware of the wide variety of definitions of god/divinity among those who are more orthodox within their faith traditions; proving or disproving one conception of god/divinity does not prove or disprove other concepts of god/divinity (e.g., disproving Karl Barth’s God does not disprove the Bhagavad Gita’s Krishna); thus a firm belief in heterodoxy seems the only sane response to the bewildering variety of of proofs and disproofs and beliefs and disbeliefs in gods, goddesses, and other divinities.

— We all share a belief that regardless of whether or not god/divinity exists, we are ultimately responsible for our lives. We do not believe it is acceptable to say, “It is God’s will that your baby died”; we know it’s the drunk driver’s fault, or the fault of the drug-resistant staph infection that we are unable to cure, or the fault of a random accident. A theological term for this is the “functional ultimacy of humankind”; that is to say, whether or not you happen to believe/disbelieve in god/divinity, from a functional perspective we all believe that humankind is ultimately responsible, allowing of course for the possibility of random chance.

— Generally speaking, we are less interested in ontology, and more interested in practical ethics. While we do have energetic ontological arguments, e.g., about the existence or non-existence of God, we are more inclined to work to make the world a better place. Those who are more interested in ontology than practical ethics are not likely to remain religious liberals for long. Thus over time the fundamentalist humanists who insist on an orthodoxy of non-belief in God get frustrated with religious liberalism and drift away to form their own orthodox humanist groups; pagans who insist in absolute belief in goddess/es over time find that they are more comfortable in orthodox pagan groups; etc.

Because we are so committed to heterodoxy, it may seem hard to understand why we religious liberals spend so much time arguing about God, when arguments about God are really appropriate only for the orthodox (who actually want to make other people think and believe just like themselves). However, we have to remember that the surrounding culture is dominated by orthodoxy as a mindset; it is a culture in which it is difficult for heterodoxy to survive at all, let alone thrive. It’s a miracle that we manage to hold on to our heterodoxy at all.

There’s a new podcast up on the Palo Alto Religious Education blog, in which Joe Chee and I discuss faith development and chronological age. We address questions like: –what happens when someone who grew up with no religious upbringing decides to join a Unitarian Universalist congregation? –how can we help childen new to church feel welcome?

And Joe has also put up an online index listing all the religious education podcasts we’ve produced thus far.

The senior high youth group led the worship service at church today, and they used Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If” as one of the readings. I remembered that my dad had a parody version of “If” written for engineers, and I thought: Why isn’t there a parody version of this old chestnut for Unitarian Universalist ministers and lay leaders? So I wrote one:

If

If you can keep your cool, and coexist,
When others want to argue, fight, and shout;
If you can handle humanist and theist,
Balancing your own belief and doubt;
If you can listen both to blame and praise,
And treat those two impostors both the same;
And read church bylaws with a steady gaze;
And work for common good and not just fame;
If you don’t break, but like the Tao you bend,
You’ll be a UU [minister] [lay leader], my friend!

Yes, I know “lay leader” doesn’t quite scan right. But I didn’t have time to write two completely different final couplets. Instead of complaining, why don’t you write a parody version of this poem?

I’ve been using online shared spreadsheets (through Google Docs) as a congregational planning and scheduling tool for three years now. I thought I’d share some of what I’ve been doing, in hopes that others will share what they’ve been doing along these lines.

First, take a look at the Palo Alto churches “RE Grid 0910” (religious education planning grid for 2009-2010). This is an example of a moderately complicated planning grid using an online spreadsheet. Congregational planning in a mid-sized church like ours is focused on Sunday events, so moving up and down in the spreadsheet each row is designated with successive Sunday dates (the only exception is Christmas Eve, which gets its own row). Moving from left to right in the spreadsheet, we start off with columns for various Sunday morning time slots, and move into columns for specific programs (i.e., Children’s Choir, teacher training, youth programs, etc.). The religious education committee, the leaders of various programs, the church administrator, and I use this RE Grid for more efficient communication and coordination. From my point of view, what I like best is that other people can get answers to scheduling questions without having to ask me; furthermore, when we do planning, everyone is literally on the same (online) page which increases efficiency and reduces confusion.

Screen shot of RE Grid mentioned above

Next, here’s a worship planning grid from a small congregation. In this congregation, the musicians were very part-time, and usually could not meet with me with me to plan worship; I used the worship planning grid to share information about sermon topics, and they used the grid to share with each other the music they were playing so we didn’t get duplication. The lay worship associates used the grid to keep track of when they were scheduled. Staff and volunteers tend to be stretched thin in small congregations, and introducing this online spreadsheet as a planning tool made all our lives easier.

Two downsides to online documents for planning: (1) there’s a strong temptation to include too much information (no good solution for this); (2) there’s a tendency to delete old information without saving a copy for future reference (I export Excel versions of Google Docs spreadsheets for archives).

I’d love to hear how other congregations have used online shared documents for planning. Tell us what you’re doing in the comments, and give us a link if your online document is public.

In a comment, children’s librarian Abs notes that parents “insist on calling the children’s librarian ‘Miss Abby’.” Abs lives in New England, so this form of address is not sanctioned by any cultural norms. Furthermore, Abs is married and calls herself “Abs,” making this completely nonsensical. What’s going on here? Why do people use such icky, stilted, obviously incorrect forms of address?

Mr. Crankypants believes he knows what is going on. Many adults today feel that they don’t want their children to refer to other adults with such formal forms of address as “Mr. Soandso” or Ms. Soandso.” Yet these adults also feel that they don’t want their children to get too chummy with other adults, and therefore refuse to tell the child to address another adult by first name only. Therefore, these adults make up icky stilted forms of address like “Miss Abby” for married middleaged women.

Mr. Crankypants can solve this problem. If you are an adult trying to figure out what your child should call another adult, don’t just make something up; have the decency to ask that other adult. Like this: “How should my child address you?” Isn’t that easy?

And if some other adult tells their child to refer to you using some icky stilted form of address, it is perfectly correct to say, “Please tell your child to refer to me as Ms. (or Mr.) Lastname,” or “Please tell your child that s/he may refer to me as Firstname.”

If an adult persists in telling their child to refer to you with an improper form of address, Mr. Crankypants gives you permission to slap them with a fresh wet trout.

The rain stopped, the clouds went away, the plants and trees are incredibly green, and today the sky seemed impossibly blue. Right now that blue sky is beautiful.

Four months from now, after we’ve had nothing but blue sky day after day, after grasses go dormant and turn the hillsides brown, after the leaves of trees fade to dull green, I’ll be longing for the rain to return.

Mr. Crankypants has been reading Unitarian Universalist blogs, and has been noticing how many bloggers misuse the honorific “reverend.”

The most common honorifics are used separately from each other. Thus we speak of “Dr. Smith,” or “Mr. Smith,” but after Mr. Smith becomes a doctor we do not speak of “Dr. Mr. Smith.” The honorific “Reverend,” however, like “Honorable,” belongs to a group of honorifics that most properly appear with other honorifics. Thus when Dr. Wang is ordained she becomes Rev. Dr. Lily Wang; when Mr. Jones is ordained he becomes Rev. Mr. Jenkin Lloyd Jones. We commonly understand that “Rev.”, like “Mr.”, is an abbreviation; completely spelled out, “Rev. Ms. Cuervo” abbreviates “the Reverend Ms Cuervo,” just as “Hon.” abbreviates “the Honorable.”

Note that the honorific “Reverend” is used only the first time a person is mentioned; thereafter that person is referred to as Mr., Ms., or Dr. Soandso. For clarity, it is best when the first mention of the clergyperson uses both “Rev.”, followed by Mr., Ms., Dr., etc., followed by the person’s first name and last name, i.e., “Rev. Mr. Supply Belcher”.¹

Mr. Crankypants has observed many improper uses of the honorific “Reverend” in the Unitarian Universalist blogosphere (and in the wider blogosphere, for that matter, an interesting case where Unitarian Universalist bloggers are no worse than other religious bloggers). Below are three hypothetical examples of ways the honorific “Reverend” is misused, along with Mr. Crankypants’s comments and corrections.

(1) Then the reverend married us.

A common error. “Reverend” is not a noun, it is an honorific that must modify a proper noun. This confusion probably arises from the honorific “Doctor” which sounds exactly like the noun “doctor.” The person who is addressed with the honorific “Reverend” may be a minister, pastor, rector, elder, etc.; but there is no such thing as a “reverend.” Similarly, the person who is addressed with the honorific “Honorable” may be a mayor or other political leader; but the holder of the executive office in a city is not an “honorable.” One also wonders why the clergyperson in the example would want to get involved in a polyamorous relationship with someone who uses such bad English style, but let it pass. The corrected sentence should read: “Then the minister officiated at our wedding ceremony.”

(2) Our minister is Rev. Darth Vader. Tomorrow, Rev. Vader will preach on the errors of Jediism.

An error so common it is often not perceived as an error. But think of the case where the proper honorific for the clergyperson is “Very Rev.”; it would sound awkward if subsequent mentions of the clergyperson included the complete honorific, and awkward if they did not. Because there are no “Very Rev.” Unitarian Universalist clergypeople, Unitarian Universalists can get away with making this error, assuming they can tolerate looking idiotic to people like Mr. Crankypants, but it would be better to rewrite these two sentences as follows: “Our minister is the Rev. Dr. Darth Vader. Tomorrow, Dr. Vader will preach on the errors of Jediism.”

(3) And now, Rev. Johnnie will tell the children a story.

A common and unforgiveable error. Even if the clergyperson’s last name is “Johnnie,” the sentence should read “Rev. Mr. Johnnie will tell…” and even then it would be better if Mr. Johnnie’s first name were included. The honorific “Reverend” is a formal term, and no amount of having the kiddies call their minister “Rev. Johnnie” will make it any less formal as an honorific. Instead it sounds like those horrible television shows for children where the host is named “Mister Bobbie,” and the man playing “Mister Bobbie” is either a simpleton or a probable child molester. It’s only a short step from the example given above, to saying something like this: “And now, Reverend Johnnie will tell the pwecious little kiddies a vewy important story!” — a sentence which cries out to be completed with a self-satisfied, self-conscious, half-demented giggle. Assuming the minister had already been introduced, the corrected sentence could read, “Mr. Amirthanagayam will now tell the story” (and yes, even if Johnnie’s last name is that long one should say the whole name); or, if one wished to be informal, the sentence could read: “Johnnie will now tell the story.”

So Mr. Crankypants has decreed. So may it be, whether you like it or not.

———

¹Yes, Jim, this is a real name: Supply Belcher was a late 18th C. American composer of hymn tunes.

Elaine Pagels gives this summary of the events leading up to Easter Sunday:

“Jesus’ passionate and powerful presence aroused enormous response, especially when he preached among the crowds of pilgrims gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate Passover. As the Jewish and Roman authorities well knew, tensions were high during the religious holidays when Jewish worshipers found themselves face to face with the Roman soldiers. Jesus’ near contemporary the Jewish historian Josephus, himself a governor of Galilee, tells of a Roman soldier on guard near the Temple who contemptuously exposed himself before just such a crowd, an outrage that incited a riot in which twenty thousand died. When Jesus dared enter the Temple courtyard before a certain Passover, brandishing a whip, throwing down the tables of those changing foreign money, and quoting the words of the prophet Jeremiah to attach the Temple leaders for turning God’s house into a ‘den of robbers,’ the Gospel of Mark says, ‘he would not allow any one to carry anything through the temple’ (Mark 11.16). But soon afterwards the authorities took action to prevent this firebrand village preacher from fanning the religious and nationalistic passions already smoldering among the restless crowds. The Jewish Council, eager to keep the peace, and hoping to avoid recrimination from their Roman masters, collaborated with the Roman procurator to have Jesus arrested, tried, and hastily executed on charges of having threatened to tear down the Temple single-handedly, and having conspired to rise against Rome and make himself king of the Jews (Mark 14.58-15.26).

“Jesus himself, according to the New Testament, saw himself very differently, not as a revolutionary but as a man seized by the spirit that inspired Isaiah and Jeremiah — the spirit of God — as a prophet sent to warn humankind of the approaching Kingdom of God and to offer purification to those who would listen. Repeatedly, according to the New Testament accounts, Jesus chose to risk death rather than allow himself to be silenced.” Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (New York: Random House, 1988), pp. 6-7.

Based on this Easter reading, here are two my two Easter thoughts this year:

(1) In today’s Western culture, religio-political leaders (and politico-religious leaders) like to style themselves as successors to Jesus, and followers of prophets like Jeremiah. However, history tells us that we have seen very few such leaders who actually were successors to Jesus, and many more who were instead successors to the Jerusalem’s religious leaders who were tools of the Romans. The difference between the two? Jesus answered to moral truth and to a God of humane justice; Jerusalem’s religious leaders answered to political expediency and to their political puppet masters.

(2) After Jesus was executed on trumped-up political charges, Jesus’s message was not silenced. Maybe it got seriously transmogrified by later philosophers (Augustine and Paul come to mind), but if we listen carefully we can still hear Jesus’ basic message of righteousness and humanity. Two thousand years later, that message is still very much alive; Easter is a good holiday to remember that message, and to remind ourselves to look for the strings by which many religious leaders are controlled by their puppet masters.

Carol took this picture of the line outside the Apple store last night. Yes, it was raining. Yes, someone brought a tent.

Right after she took this photo, Carol saw Steve Jobs getting into a silver Mercedes without a license plate. She turned to some people near here, and said, “Was that really Steve Jobs?” “Yes,” they said. “His car didn’t have a license plate,” she said. “Steve Jobs doesn’t need a license plate,” one of them said, “he has the iPad.” “We need a life,” one of the others muttered.

Third in an occasional series of essays in unsystematic liberal theology, in which I assume theology is a literary genre more than a science, a conversation more than a monologue, descriptive rather than prescriptive.

Eschatology is that branch of theology that asks questions like: What will happen at the end of time? What will happen after death? What is our final destination?

Religious liberals tend to avoid the questions associated with eschatology, and one of the ways we avoid these questions is by allowing science to provide answers; e.g., we might say that what will happen at the end of time is governed by the second law of thermodynamics. However, such answers are often not satisfying to many religious liberals; the question as asked is usually not a question about physics or cosmology, it is a personal question related to the meaning (or lack thereof) of one’s own existence. Thus, some religious liberals with an existentialist bent might say that when you die, that’s it, that’s the end, there is nothing more; while that might not sound very comforting, that’s just the way it is.

Religious liberals who have been influenced by the Universalist tradition may draw on their tradition for a more theological answer to eschatological questions. A more traditional Universalist could say that at the end of time, all souls will be reconciled to God, and that there is no such thing as hell where eternal punishment awaits sinners. A less traditional Universalist might generalize from this Christian standpoint, and say something to the effect that we, like all living beings, will be recycled by the interdependent web of existence and the molecules that make us up will become parts of other living beings.

Some religious liberals have been strongly influenced by other religious traditions, e.g., various eastern religious traditions, and they may adopt the eschatologies of their favored tradition. Thus, for example, those who have a connection with Buddhism or Hinduism may believe that after death we are reborn into another body; those with Buddhist inclinations might say that eventually we can hope for nirvana, or nothingness, when the cycle of rebirth comes to an end.

Many religious liberals do not see any connection between our morality while we are alive, and what happens to us after we are dead. Some religious liberals, however, might see some connection between our actions in this life and what happens to us after we die: if we don’t behave well in this life we will not achieve nirvana; if we don’t behave well in life, there will be some limited period of punishment after death before our soul is reconciled to God; etc.

In general, though, religious liberals don’t worry as much about eschatology as do many other religious traditions. The emphasis of liberal religion tends to be placed strongly in the here and now, in this life. What will happen at the end of time? — that’s the wrong question to ask, ask instead what we might do here and now to make the world a better place.

Massachusetts and Rhode Island were hit by heavy rainstorms in March. Bristol County, where we were living last year, has been declared a federal disaster area; Middlesex County, where we lived seven years ago, is also a disaster area, as are Essex, Norfolk, Plymouth, Suffolk, and Worcester counties.

The photographs of flooding on the Boston Globe Web site show places that we know well: water pouring over the dam at Moody Street in Waltham, broken culvert at Route 119 in Littleton, Cambridge Turnpike in Concord closed due to flooding, Route 140 in Freetown closed due to flooding, duck boats helping people get to their houses in Wayland, flooding in Peabody, and on and on. My favorite photo was from Acton, the town where my sister lives — someone took a piece of plywood and some red spray paint to make a big sign: “ARK FOR SALE.”

If you’re in Massachusetts, I’d love to hear from you. Are you flooded out? Has it stopped raining yet?