Hope and purpose in hard times - Ringwood #Unitarians hear from Amos and Jesus in December 2022

We gathered again in strength after a gap of some months, which was welcome and  which in itself led to a sense of optimism.  The gathering was invited to consider keeping a purpose clear in mind in times that to many of us seem difficult, in what might yet turn out to be a winter of discontent as a result of the cost of living crisis.

The opening music was an uplifting anthem, possibly from the LGBTIQ networks, “We give thanks in these hard times,” which can be found on YouTube at

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1JhiDsQNLo&list=PLuHoqBDN-aPLfCT9JMiG2AGqatHqYyC1N&index=1

(Unfortunately, the IT let us down after that, and we were unable to view the other video music that had been planned, which can be found at 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rw1j8QvtZZc&list=RDg2RBaN3uWOY&index=4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3E7QWLyDWe8  )

After the lighting of the candle in the chalice, we had a lovely story with the idea that the world can be fixed by fixing the humans within it; and then readings from the Bible.  The first was an arrangement of some words in the book of Amos, and the second was a compilation of words from the Gospel of Q and the Gospel of Matthew.

The president for the day reflected on the choice of the readings.

“Early Jewish religion may have overplayed sacrifice and ritual, because in that first reading we have a Hebrew prophet character, Amos, telling us that God does not care for rituals and offerings. In particular, we are told, God does not like them when they come out of a life of complacent luxury and indolence.

“We get a picture of God from this. We see that perhaps God is not looking for empty gestures but for our empathy for the sufferings and oppressions experienced by others in our midst. Looking for us to walk past our own comfort to relieve suffering and to root out injustice. ‘Let justice roll on like a river; And righteousness like an ever flowing stream.’”

the shepherd Amos as depicted
 by Gustave Doré
(public domain image from Wikipedia)

She went on by commenting on the recent COP27 climate conference, and how so little impact would be felt in the real world from the pitifully superficial nature of the agreements reached.  Unlike the prophet Amos, who spoke in terms of justice being a task that would roll on for ever, our speaker suggested that we will only have to carry the burden of this task for a few centuries more.  

We heard that many scientists estimate the breakdown of civilisation as we know it will be in about eighty years.  The threat is more from nuclear war than directly from temperature extremes; this because water and food scarcity will cause mass migrations on a scale so far not imaginable, and together with that, conflict and violence.  There has been almost nothing about planning for us to reduce instead of increase our demand, to use less energy, to want to use less energy.  Almost no recognition that in a finite ecosystem economies cannot grow without limit.  To be sustainable, civilization probably needs to operate at about 20% of the current energy usage levels — 80% less than we currently use. 

Our president said, “The end is rushing up much quicker than we ever thought it would. Though even a proportion of activists are in denial: we are in the end years, the decline years.

“When we truly recognize this, we have a choice. We can eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Or we can wail in hysteria, and wither away in despondency. There are many, many people who now suffer from what is becoming termed eco-anxiety. Or we can loot and pillage, knowing there will be none to come after us to hold us to account. Or, we can stand up straight, centre ourselves, and stand fast to the principles we stood for before we knew the painful truth.

“If the end of human civilization as we know it is getting closer and closer, isn’t that an even better reason to make those days which are left to us, the best days that have ever been? 

“Let us take inspiration from Amos and work even now to let justice roll on like a river, right up to the point where the river is no longer identifiable. Let us work to show those with eco-anxiety that there is a point to living, even in the end days. Let us live in hope beyond all reasonable hope, and live as well as we can.”

So much for the first reading.  And so far, it didn’t seem like much help was being given with what that hope or purpose in hard times might look like, on a daily basis.  Thankfully, our president didn’t leave it there, but went on to discuss the second reading.

“Realistically, what effect can we really have? What difference can we really make? Well: nothing can emerge on the human scene without it first appearing in the human imagination. Meaning that our first imperative is to use our imagination. Failure will be certain if we undergo a failure of imagination. And where do we hear about imagination? Well, in the gospel stories. We have words of Jesus, as Jesus was re-imagining Judaism.

“In the second reading, though we ourselves may be familiar with the words, they were new to those listening. Jesus is providing new and even shocking metaphors in order to re-imagine the kingdom of God. Look, he said, I know the prophets of old compared the realm of God to the famed Cedars of Lebanon, which were used to build the temple of Solomon in Jerusalem. Big; strong; solid; powerful; lasting; awesome, even. Actually the realm of God can also be like a tiny mustard seed which grows into a scraggly plant that most of you farmers consider a weed; but it’s a weed that provides shade and shelter for birds. The realm of God can also be like a yeast that seems insignificant but which changes the whole character of water and meal when you mix them all together.  

“And don’t think for a moment that you who seek the realm of God are unimportant just because you are as ordinary as salt. Without salt how would we preserve food, how would we live? Don’t you dare lose your essential character — if the salt stops being salty, if you stop being so ordinary, how would any society survive?

“Look, it’s hard keeping hold of your sense of direction, said Jesus, it’s hard sticking to this narrow path, and you mustn’t expect ever to be many in number because plenty will fall by the wayside as you go.  But you really are a light to light up the darkness. It doesn’t take many of you to do that. Just keep on keeping on.”

lamp on a stand and the
 growing mustard seed, by 
Johann Christoph Weigel
(image in public domain
 from Wikipedia)

We were reminded that Unitarians in the UK do all sorts of things that might not look very much, and we may not be very visible in our towns and cities, but for those who do come into contact with us we do make a difference.

“We are a gentle, angry people, highlighting injustice when we see it. But also we make provision for ‘mums and tots’ sessions. We house community fridges. We send disadvantaged and deprived children out into the wilds of the Peak District for life-changing adventures. We put a spotlight on the iniquities of the penal system. We fund some activities of the British Red Cross. We travel to Calais to speak with and provide practical support to migrants. We champion religious freedom in all its forms. Not so long ago we worked for greater equality regarding marriage. We make allies across boundaries and remind those we come into contact with that neither we nor they have the entire picture.”

We were then reminded that people in general very rarely fail in their endeavours.  More often, we just stop trying.  In looking for hope and a steering light in these times, we can use these ideas from Jesus to keep alive our imagination of what we can do, to keep us keeping on, working for the purpose of God as we understand it, as expressed by Amos: ‘Let justice roll on like a river; And righteousness like an ever flowing stream.’  Even unto the end of the stream itself.

What does 'being Church' mean? How does that seem to #Unitarians? - Ringwood Unitarians' gathering 11 November 2022

Our gathering in November was nearly cancelled but we are glad that it went ahead despite a very low turn out.  Because this was a very important gathering, asking big and important questions about what Church means to us.  What does ‘being Church’ mean?  What does ‘Church in action’ look like?  Why do those of us who gather find it necessary to gather?  Why don’t we simply carry on with our spiritual journeys, each a pilgrim on their own?

The gathering was really an enquiry about what 'being Church' is, or could be, for Unitarians.

The memorial board for the fallen from the
previous Unitarian congregation at the Meeting House

It being Remembrance Sunday, the candle in the chalice was lit to words adapted from For the Fallen by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943).  And then, as usual, we were invited to privately take stock of the recent days and weeks and to be honest about how we well we had been living up to what is most important to us.  Later on in the gathering, after the readings and reflection on them, we lit candles to share our joys and concerns, and heard words of hope and blessing.

Our blog habitually devotes more space to the readings we hear in a gathering, and the reflection on the readings, merely because words can easily be brought across into the blog.  It is not possible to bring across into a blog the experience we have when we use prayer words together, light candles together, sit in silence together, or the feeling of singing together.  You will only truly get the flavour and feel of our gatherings by coming along to one.  So please do, when you are able.

We heard two stories made famous through the teachings of Jesus, namely “The Good Samaritan” from the book of Luke in the Christian Bible (Chapter 10 verses 30-35), and “The Prodigal Son” also from the book of Luke (chapter 15 verses 11-32).

For those unfamiliar, “The Good Samaritan” is a story in which a traveller gets mugged on the road from Jericho to Jerusalem, is ignored in his danger by upstanding members of society, yet is made safe and helped to get better by someone whom Jesus’ audience would have considered outcast.  And the story of “The Prodigal Son” tells of a younger son in a family, who is granted his share of the inheritance, then leaves to go abroad and wastes it all, and eventually goes back where he came from, with his tail between his legs.  Whilst his father makes him welcome, his elder brother is very grudging and resentful. The father attempts a reconciliation between them.

Before going any further, it is necessary to make clear there are (at least) two different inferences in the word ‘Unitarian’.  To be a Unitarian can, as well as other things, mean that (1) you experience or claim or guess that the divine nature is necessarily a “one-ness”, as contrasted with the “multiplicity” of the Hindus and Pagans, or “three-ness/Trinity” as traditional Christians maintain and/or (2) no matter what you experience or claim or guess about the divine nature, you have some form of allegiance to or participation in the movement that calls itself the Unitarian Church in the UK.  The first is a statement about belief.  The second is about involvement in a group or body of people.

(library image)

Like many other religious affiliations, labels about us are messy.  People need wriggle room.  Things are not clear, even privately to each one of us, and less so when in community.

What follows are the reflections on the readings, from the person presiding on the day.

~~~~~~~~~~

Unitarians in the UK have a mixed lineage. The congregations we know today have varied histories and were born out of differing Christian traditions.  While it is not hard to find Unitarian people throughout recorded history, and indeed one could argue right back into the Bible, the actual Unitarian congregations we have today are reconfigured from reformed churches (for more explanation of reformed churches, see Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calvinism). 

To some now (and, I am sure, it has always been the case), what matters is the personal journey, the search for truth and the striving to live accordingly.  It is no surprise, then, that in both our readings the journey features strongly.  The road from Jericho to Jerusalem on which the journeyman was waylaid.  The road back from foreign lands to the father’s house.  The spiritual path is one that none can tread for us and one that is rarely strewn with palm leaves. 

But while each of us has a private, personal spiritual path or journey, we in Ringwood suggest that what distinguishes a Unitarian from a solitary pilgrim is someone valuing the experience of Church, of gathering, of being part of something; part of a bigger journey that gives a context for our own journey too.  

Without a coming together there would be no congregations, Unitarian or otherwise.  And that would mean there would be no place for those on their personal journeys to rest or find impetus to go further or change direction.  We who gather, often or occasionally, clearly see something of value in our congregations and in our wider movement.

In our first reading we encounter the journeyman in a bad way.  The road has been unkind; and far from making their way onwards autonomously they are in pain and in need.  We will all be in that position at some point, now and again.  Perhaps we will have seen things we cannot accept, or will have done things we cannot undo.  Perhaps we will have led astray people whom we care about; or perhaps we will have been oppressed by questions we cannot approach.  Life is tough, and our journeys through it have their dark places and blind corners, just like that road from Jericho. 

I don’t think it is by chance that the first two people who come along are church people; first, the equivalent of the Minister or Preacher, and second, the Music Organiser or Pulpit Rota Lead. These are good people, people needed in the making and sustaining of a congregation but, in this tale, they are busy on their own personal journeys.  They are visible and essential parts of a congregation, but in this story they do not demonstrate the characteristics of Church.  The story tells us they passed by on the other side.  And so we can see: we can have roles in a congregation, but yet be isolated individuals on private journeys, without being Church. The first reading, and my own heart, suggest this is not enough.

The third person comes along, and you need to picture this person as someone in your congregation who outwardly values very different things in congregation from what you value.  If you like silence, they’ll be the one who wants to discuss everything.  If you like energetic interactive gatherings, they’ll be the one who wants to stick to a sermon and song.  Whichever hymn book you like, they’ll love the other one.  You often find yourself wondering why you and they are in the same congregation at all.

This is also the person who doesn’t pass by on the other side. 

This is the person who puts you onto their own horse or donkey, the person who is aligned with you enough, who cares enough, to share with you what has helped them along the way. 

This is the person who takes the time to pay attention to your hurt and to do what they can to help you heal.

And this is the person, whose support of the wider congregation firstly allows you the space and time you need to heal, and which secondly allows you both to continue on your personal journeys at your own pace and in your own ways.

Our first reading doesn’t denigrate the vital structural roles and responsibilities in our congregations, but it does suggest to us what Church looks like in action.

In the second reading I see a suggestion for why we come together, not just what coming together could look like. 

I was wary of this second reading.  For myself, it is one that comes with weighty layers of imposed meaning, and that might be the same for some others too.  Bear with me.

I remember discussing this reading with some young monks many years ago.  One of them heatedly, and bravely, confessed that he understood the grudging resentment of the elder brother.  That he, too, sometimes felt frustration and injustice that others could come along and enjoy all the good bits of congregational life, whilst not putting in all the hard work and sacrifice that he had. 

It would be easy here to look, once again, at those with clear roles in a congregation  — or even those who just turned up gathering after gathering — and say that doing those things alone isn’t enough to make a Church.  There is no congregation without these people and, like for that young monk, the frustration of the elder son is always a risk on their personal journeys.  But that is not what I take from this second reading.

It is not what divides the older and the younger son that interests me.  It is the words of the father who would bring them together:

‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.  But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’

What can unite us, what has the prospect of bringing us together, is celebration; celebration of rising again every time we fall; celebration of finding a new way every time we hit a dead end. 

We come together to celebrate our personal journeys, united in hope for our way ahead.

I value the personal journey.

I value the camaraderie of the road.

I value those who give their time, their labour, and their resources to provide a place to rest and heal.

And I value the celebration of all of that.  I value the gathering together to sing into the darkness, to set lights ablaze and tell our tales of hope that we might make them true.

Is this what Church is for Unitarians?  I do not know for certain, but I hope there is something in this that you can value too.

A mixed group of Unitarians, some years ago.

The teachings of Jesus, the teachings about Jesus, or something else? Unitarians in Ringwood gathering 9 October 2022

Welcome
Welcome to this table
Whatever path has brought you here
Whatever load you carry
Let us rest a while together.
May our hearts be open to accept what comes to us as a stranger,
May our minds be open to wonder at what we do not understand,
And may our spirits be nourished by our time here together,
Before we again take up our loads and set off upon our many paths.
Welcome !

For some time now we have deliberately focused our gatherings on the heritage endowed by our forebears in the Unitarian tradition, recognising that, while there are many wisdoms in the world, in the UK most cultural references derive from Christianity since the later Roman times.  We do sometimes marvel at the insights from other cultures, are sometimes thrilled by some ideas, and sometimes even pick out parallels, to emphasise a point.  But, in general, we feel ill-equipped to understand the rich nuances of other faiths.  We don’t want to misappropriate or mis-ascribe, and we feel on firmer ground when giving priority to what we were exposed to in our own backgrounds.

We claim no superiority for Christian wisdom.  We do not think there should be any hierarchies when it comes to classical systems of faith, as it is likely that in any long-established faiths the same human conditions will have been addressed sufficiently, somewhere along the line. 

It’s simply that if we can find what seems needed in the moment right there, within the boundaries of our inherited faith, we do not think it necessary for us to go anywhere more exotic.  

~~~~~~~~~

And so it was that on 9th October our small group, meeting once again, found that the readings for the day were taken from our current favourite book about Jesus: the Gospel of Mark.

This is the book that opens with the words: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, God’s Son.”  For the avoidance of ambiguity, we remember that the word “Christ” is not a surname but a descriptor deriving from the Hebrew words meaning ‘one who has been anointed by God’, and that in the Hebrew histories several notable characters, including Hebrew kings, have been “God’s anointed”. Also we note that the term "son of God" is used in the Hebrew Bible as way to refer to humans who have a special relationship with God. 

The first reading was the tale in chapter 14 of Mark, in which a woman brought to Jesus some very expensive ointment — or lotion, as we might imagine it — and poured it on his head.  This act was interpreted by the people in the story in two different ways.  It was a meaningless waste of an asset that could have been sold to raise funds to aid the poor.  Or it was an act of devotion to Jesus, a teacher and friend whom the woman worried she might lose, her act being a metaphor for the cleansing ritual necessary prior to death.   

When we watch a movie, we can tell from the soundtrack that something sinister is about to happen — the director makes a musical reference that we have learned to understand.  But Mark only had the written word at his disposal.  By including this second meaning in the story of the woman with the ointment, Mark is giving us those warning chords, warning us that Jesus is going soon to be in danger, as we see from the next chapter in the story. 

The second reading came from the next chapter of Mark, chapter 15.

The Roman soldiers, who had Jesus in custody, mocked Jesus for the charge that had been brought against him.  It had been told them that Jesus had claimed the role of kingship over the Jewish people.  So, they dressed him in the Imperial purple and they wove some thorny twigs together to make a crown, ramming it on his head.  They beat him and spat upon him, and then took him out to be executed.  Passers-by, including some of his strongest religious critics, continued the mockery as he hung on the Cross dying — they challenged this person who had been involved in the mending and healing of others to save himself also from suffering.

So what is the something new in these texts, promised us at the outset?  

~~~~~~~~~

It is often said within Unitarian circles, and you may well have read it in many different phrasings, that, where they are interested in Jesus at all, Unitarians follow the teachings of Jesus, rather than believe what is taught about him. This is said outwardly, too, on Wikipedia, and on many Unitarian leaflets and webpages.  This is to convey that our prime interests are ethics and spirituality, and not the oft-quoted, rather blunt perception of religion as a set of beliefs involving (what are often rather derisively viewed as) supernatural attributes of someone who may have lived a long time ago, a long way away.

The 'teachings of Jesus' view can appeal to some types of Christian but is also welcoming and open to anyone who sees Jesus as simply one thinker or visionary amongst many others that they value.  It is a phrasing that has appealed to those who have fallen out of love with the established Church but retain a link in some way to that heritage.

But it seems to us that there is something we need to consider here: a new way of approaching this same thing, or at least new to us.

Our first scene is of the woman who anoints Jesus with a costly and calming scented oil.  It has featured in countless works of art as well as in theatre and film, living up to the words Mark places in the mouth of his Jesus, “Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”  Yet familiar as this scene is, it is all too easy to miss something rather astonishing — though it is there in plain sight.  When Jesus talks of the good news to be proclaimed he is clearly talking about the telling of a story.  

Perhaps the startling thing becomes clearer when we realise what he is not talking about.  Mark’s Jesus is not talking about the passing on of certain teachings, rules, or ideas.  The good news isn’t a collection of wise sayings or thought-provoking aphorisms.  The good news, as Mark would have it, is a story.  It says so, right up there in the opening credits.  This is the good news of Jesus Christ, God’s Son.  This is to be a story in which there are characters and plots.  And it is in the telling of the story that good news is proclaimed.

It was common practice in Israel to gather the sayings of teachers; indeed, we have many examples of Rabbinic texts and Wisdom literature.  There were also collections of the sayings attributed to a historical Jesus, such as the Gospel of Thomas, for example, or the imagined Q document. That was not, however, what Mark wrote.

Mark did not present us with the teachings of Jesus but, rather, the story. 

Mark did not present us with a history of Jesus but, rather, a story.

Mark presents us with a story focused around Jesus, around the things this protagonist did and said, and that were said about him, and done to him.

We are not given a programme to follow.  We are not given a philosophy to expound.  We are given a story to engage with, to be inspired by, and to see our own stories through.  We can ask if that changes the story.  We can ask ourselves who we would be in the story Mark gives us.  We can ask if we are always the same person in that story.  We can ask what we would have done. 

We can be challenged and encouraged by images and phrases from it.  We can learn phrases and lines off by heart, as children learn rhymes and teenagers learn the words to raps or pop songs.  We can strive to emulate the parts we love.  We can see the parts of the story we wish were different and see parallels with parts of our world we wish were different.  Inspired by the story, we can work to change the parts of our world that we wish were different.

So perhaps Unitarians need not be people who follow the teachings of Jesus, in bald, abstracted form.  Perhaps they can be people who cherish the story of Jesus.  

Perhaps rather than argue —  over history, what Jesus did or did not teach; or theology, who or what was Jesus; or what authority we give to those teachings, from where does the final arbiter emerge — we could share a mutual love of a story, and simply and excitedly engage with how it touches us and what it means to us personally? 

~~~~~~~~

So much for what we get from the first reading.  When we left the story of Jesus and the woman with the expensive lotion those warning chords were sounding, about the danger to Jesus coming in the next scene.  All the best stories need some suspense.  And bearing in mind that, in the world in which Jesus as teacher was proclaimed, they saw little new or even interesting in what he said (we know this from the responses of Roman and Jewish authors of the time), what is the suspense all about?  What exactly was it that caught the world alight?

The storyline goes on with Jesus being mocked and beaten, then executed.  The scenes are very powerful.  Whatever one’s beliefs, it is hard not to feel the pain and sorrow of these scenes.  But as with any good tale, there is also something else going on here.

Firstly, look how here, even more than in any nativity tale — or any other tale —  from the other Gospels, Jesus is presented as an alternative to Caesar, dressed in the Imperial purple, crowned, surrounded by soldiers.  The very mockery itself gives the audience a striking and memorable key to the Gospel. There is the kingdom of Caesar, of the State, and there is this kingdom of Jesus the anointed of God.  And the one fears the other, and wants to cast it down.

Secondly, and very much linked to the first point, Jesus is crucified with rebels.  Both the punishment, and the company, make it clear that the Jesus of this story is tied up in the resistance to oppression.  The good news of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, the Jesus story that Mark tells us, is about two ways of living in the world, and about placing ourselves at any given moment on the one side or the other.

The good news is a story of resistance to oppression, and Jesus is written in the style of a Greek hero, though cast as a Jewish Holy Man.

And thirdly, perhaps most shockingly, see what was said of Jesus here: “He saved others, he cannot save himself !”  Let that sink in.  The Jesus of Mark’s story has travelled far and wide, helping in word and deed the weak, the sick, the impoverished, the outcast.  Jesus faces down religious and State power to stand for those who cannot stand for themselves. The hero of Mark follows another law, another way of living, bravely, and aware of what the final consequences will be, as we see in the first reading:  “....you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial.”  

He saved others and hoped for his own saving, as Mark tells us between the two scenes we have looked at, in how Jesus prays in the garden of Gethsemane.  But ultimately, despite all that we might wish for him, Jesus living in truth as he experiences it cannot save himself.  The Jesus story challenges and inspires us to save others while we ourselves also live in hope of being saved, without any certainty.

So this is what caught the imagination of the world.  The good news of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, the Jesus story, is not a path or practice that promises to spare us suffering.  Nor is it a collection of wisdom that leads us to personal contentment or prosperity.  There are, and always have been, versions of both of these things out there. 

Instead, the new of the Jesus story is the tale that inspires us to see ‘the world as it is’; yet to embrace the joy of being part of the breaking through of ‘the world as it should be’.  To gaze into the abyss as unflinching as any; yet, moment after fading moment, to dance in the flickering light of something brighter, something better, being passed from torch to torch. 

Jesus is crushed by the Empire of Caesar, by the weight of oppression, and yet the empty tomb Mark leaves us with at the end of his Gospel lets us ask if Jesus too wasn’t finally saved by another.  Is there, in fact, a sequel?  Can we save Jesus in the alternative sequels we play in our heads and hearts?  Nothing tantalises better than the end of a story that half-promises a sequel.  This story has all the ingredients; no wonder it set the world alight.

~~~~~~~

Perhaps it’s more complicated for Unitarians, than aiming to follow the teachings of Jesus.  Perhaps the dance with a narrative, with all that it may invoke in us throughout the weavings of our own lives, is what gives purpose and meaning.  Perhaps some Unitarians are among that broader circle of diverse people who cluster around the Jesus story; who engage with and are inspired by the story of a man who offered another way to be, who did not accept oppression; a man who could save others but could not save himself.

Maybe none of us can save ourselves in this world of ours, but just maybe, if we play with alternative ways of being, and sequels, we all can save each other.

Rachel Held Evans (1981-2019) — Emma Green, writing for The Atlantic, notes that Evans "was part of a vanguard of progressive-Christian women who fought to change the way Christianity is taught and perceived in the United States."  Green goes on to argue that Evans' legacy is "her unwillingness to cede ownership of Christianity to its traditional conservative-male stewards" and that her "very public, vulnerable exploration of a faith forged in doubt empowered a ragtag band of writers, pastors, and teachers to claim their rightful place as Christians.” (Wikipedia)

Holding anger and letting it go — Unitarians in Ringwood gathering for reverence 11 September 2022

On Thursday 8 September 2022, Queen Elizabeth II died.

On Sunday 11 September 2022, we gathered in that light of that event, but also recognising that 21 years had passed since the bombing of the Twin Towers in New York.

These were both events that drew many people closer together, in recognition of the many more things that we hold in common, as compared to the smaller number of things that separate us.

Thus it was good to meet.  To pray, and sing, and keep silence together, as well as to hear readings and some thoughts on them.

Unitarians are never shy of using scissors and paste on texts, to make them relevant and useful.  Both the readings were compilations, firstly from the book of Ecclesiasticus (also known as Sirach after its author, Jesus ben Sirach) (2:12-18, 3:26-31, 4:2-10) and secondly from the books of Mark (3:1-5) and Luke (18:9-14), in the Christian Bible (Roman Catholic version).

The Sirach reading evidenced the Graeco-Jewish wisdom tradition in the centuries BCE, in which the people of the region we now know as Israel/Palestine would have been soaked.  Sirach enjoined the wise to keep the law, with humble and prepared hearts; to pay attention to those in poverty; to support the needy; to be courteous to the destitute; to give alms; "Save the oppressed from the hand of the oppressor, and do not be mean-spirited in your judgments."

We remembered that Jesus of Nazareth came after this time, during a period in which Rome was an oppressive and brutal overlord.  That second Jesus would have known the sort of texts exemplified by those of Jesus ben Sirach, and so would have the people who heard him speak.

The second reading brought to our attention the anger that Jesus of Nazareth felt when he saw hard-hearted people showing reluctance to restore someone's health and well-being on the Sabbath day.  And that his instruction regarding prayer and standing aright with God went far beyond the sort of advice given centuries before, by ben Sirach.  In the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, Jesus of Nazareth criticised the very people who thought they were living and praying in the best way, according to all the old texts.

Our president for the day gave us her reflections on the readings.

"The course of this winter is looking quite bleak for people in UK, with households and small businesses quite frightened by the prospects of rising fuel costs.

There's an unimaginable catastrophe pending, owing to the re-setting of the climate and its weather systems into a highly energetic state, by our continued abuse of the planet through our use of fossil fuels.  People in Pakistan are the latest to suffer with the extreme and widespread floods, but we will go down like dominoes, one land mass after another, and all eventually be affected  — even those nations that are currently in denial.

We see people pulling up the barricades against other people who are simply enterprising people trying to make new lives for themselves.  Fear or dislike of the person viewed as 'other' is rife.

We see the effects of pay systems that have traditionally relied on artificially cheap labour now rippling through the whole of the economy.  Even our lawyers now cannot make ends meet, meaning there is a loss of legal aid for those victims who had thought that our justice system would see them right.

We see our loved ones being nursed by people who are made to feel unwelcome through their skin colour, and we hear of medics at all levels being faced with constant stress, and at risk of catching COVID again and again and again.  COVID is by no means over.

We see the loss of honesty and transparency converted into a breakdown of trust between the electorate and those who have offered themselves as representatives.

Not all of us may feel directly affected, at present, by all or indeed any of these.  But sooner or later, we will be, whether directly or indirectly.  And already, those of us feeling untouched ourselves may be seeing the difficulties facing our families and friends; and we may rail at the injustices they face.

We need to do that — we need to rail against injustice — because society cannot afford for everyone to not look at how our country works, ‘under the bonnet’.  Those who can need to be part of tackling root causes; or if not tackling root causes then those who can must be part of the action that locally relieves pain and struggle.  If we don’t then who is there who will come and save society?"

She went on to suggest that we need to notice the gap between how the two authors 'Jesus' gave advice, advice which in both cases was aimed at making community life better.

"Our first reading from Jesus ben Sirach shows that the Hebrew Bible contained layer upon layer of wisdom and advice on how to behave in community together.  This advice went into some detail and encouraged minute examination of circumstances, in order to decide exactly what to do. Men (in particular) made a real study of these texts, and one can imagine the style of advice in those books suffusing the whole public space and flavouring the dealings between people.  All with the aim of trying to make life better.  Nonetheless, in this world of community and layers of wisdom, many people were neglected and abused.  

Jesus of Nazareth lived later, in a turbulent, brutal, oppressive and restive time.  He by turns (1) got angry about it and (2) did something else quite remarkable: he learned how to achieve peace within himself in the face of his anger.  This is a lesson we could all do with learning.

In Mark, we heard how Jesus was angry with those concerned about the finer points of Sabbath behaviour while a fellow was suffering in front of them.  And in Luke, we heard him dismiss the educated, genteel way of praying.  In essence, Jesus said: “Don’t be complacent and taken up with yourself like the Pharisee, the lettered man striving in his silent prayer to follow the details of the Law.  Life’s too short and change is so crucial.  Cut instead to the chase.  Recognise your fundamental woundedness and incompleteness.  We are all wounded and incomplete. Pray by confessing that, simply and single-pointedly: keep that focus, like the tax collector.  Ask to receive the healing mercy that is there for you. Then from that focus, love your enemies, people just like you.  Pray for those who persecute you.” "

Our president suggested that Jesus' way of praying was a way of getting back to wholeness, or, if you like, getting into wholeness.  Remarking that Jesus was unconventional in his use of metaphors to reveal something of God, she listed some other metaphors she has come across or found useful: 

~ Source

~ Eternal Realm

~ Life

~ Underlying Order

~ The Great Unfolding

~ Overall Dance

~ The Silent Whisper

~ Truth

~ Field of being

And then she said:

"But also this: Complete Entirety. 

Everything all together is God

God is everything all together

All that there is

Complete Entirety

Complete Entirety means 'all of us together, all that we live in together, all that underpins the universe that we live in together, and all that lies beyond those underpinnings, all together and more than we can imagine'; all of that together can be pointed at by the word ‘God’.

That places us all in the same essential spot, the same spot as each other.  Much though we would all like to distance ourselves from some people, there can, in essence, be no ‘othering’ between us.

Each of us taken as a person is an incompleteness  —  we are the universe experiencing the woundedness of incompleteness. 

Erazim Kohák (1933-2020), a philosopher has said: "Our pains and woes are not so much removed from us as we are reconciled to them as we suddenly see them as if from under the perspective of the whole.” (A)

So what Jesus’ instruction about prayer turns into is this:

“Pray like this:

Lord have mercy on me, someone who misses the mark by the very nature of my humanity, my essential woundedness

Lord have mercy.

And have mercy also on all my fellows, on every other human, being in the same essential spot as I am

Lord, have mercy.”

Jesus’ way of praying is a way of bringing interior peace, even in the face of exterior suffering."

The gathering closed with recent words by Rev Philip Waldron, currently Minister with Unitarians in Merseyside, who said:

“It is time to work on our fragmented inner world; if we don’t our external world will be broken, fractured and in pain.  When our inner world is unbroken, our external world is healing for those we meet, and in our presence, we become a blessing to those who travel with us on our journey.”

(A)  Erazim Kohák (1933-2020) The Embers and the Stars, University of Chicago Press, 1987, pp. 42-46, via 'Caute' blog

A new beginning after COVID, with help from text messages, Isaiah and Mark — gathering of Unitarians in Ringwood 14 August 2022

What a joy it was to be together again, in the Meeting House, to be starting anew by meeting in person.  After a gap of two and a half years owing to COVID19, for us as a congregation this felt like a new beginning.  And though for each of us it will be different, we shared this new beginning.

Now, for first time blog visitors and regular readers alike, here is the periodic reminder.  We are not Bible scholars, nor do we hold that the Bible contains more or better quality wisdom than any other source.  What we say is that the Bible is where our forebears started; hence referring to the Bible can provide a shortcut to a shared understanding, as the same words and pictures have been re-interpreted in each generation, over centuries.

We say too that the practice of reading it with new eyes is something else we have inherited from our forebears.  We don’t start from “What is God saying to us through this text?” but from “What words has the author put together here and why (and what is the crucial influence of the translator)?”

And thirdly, we say that what the Bible may convey must be supported by our lived experience; and that this stance too we have inherited from our forebears.

Early Unitarian congregations and communities came out of Presbyterian congregations, Baptist congregations, Congregationalist congregations, and even Anglican ones. They were joined by individuals from many other backgrounds to boot. It wasn’t ritual, or theology, or even practical organisation that they had in common.  It was these three things:

The Bible, the drive for lived Truth, and the measures of reason and conscience as their guide.

These three taken together was what was new in their beginning.

In the early days there may in any case have been a shortage of other sources of wisdom to tap into.  The Bible may have been the only book seen and read.  It would have been natural for congregations to focus their attention on it.  

But now we face the diametrically opposed problem: there are so many sources of wisdom open to us, from cultures worldwide, that as we take each our own path of exploration, it can be a lonesome journey — and the concept of ‘an experience in common’ lies in splinters and shards.  Let’s face it, it’s hard enough to find someone to chat with about the same television programme last night  — we never watch the same things — how much more difficult is it now to have a shared ground to stand on when discussing deep matters of the spirit?

So though we value influences from all religious, philosophic, artistic, scientific, natural and just plain suburban sources, we hold that hanging onto the practice established by our forebears is a good and authentic rallying point.  Rallying — congregating — is what we are about.  We walk our own private paths between gatherings, but the whole point of a congregation is to congregate on a shared ground for mutual support.  So we tend to start from the Bible.

"We light our chalice-candle, invoking the divine light that shines in stars and suns and the bright eyes of a child. 

We light our chalice-candle to invoke the warmth that wakens the divine life in cold earth and cold hearts. 

We light our chalice-candle so we can see the divine beauty in a flower and the human beauty in courageous love

Amen"

 Spirit of Time and Place, Cliff Reed, pg. 29 (https://www.unitarian.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/2002_Spirit_Time_Place.pdf)

When we met on 14th August, our first reading was from the book of the prophet Isaiah chapter 61, verses 1 to 4.  What we heard were the words of the prophet, as recorded.

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me

    because the Lord has anointed me;

he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,

    to bind up the broken-hearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives

    and release to the prisoners,

² to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour

    and the day of vengeance of our God,

    to comfort all who mourn,

³ to provide for those who mourn in Zion—

    to give them a garland instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

    the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

    the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.

⁴ They shall build up the ancient ruins;

    they shall raise up the former devastations;

they shall repair the ruined cities,

    the devastations of many generations.

Our second reading was from the book of Mark chapter 1, verses 1 to 11.  This is the story of John the Baptizer and his baptism of Jesus, as narrated by the poet-author we know as Mark.  Depending which translation you read, the first line is,

“Beginning of the good word of Jesus the Anointed, Son of God.  

“As is written in Isaiah the prophet, 'Look, I am sending my messenger before your face, who will prepare your road, the voice of a crier in the desert...', so John came along, bathing others in the wilderness and announcing the washing of a changed heart for the forgiveness of wrongs.”

Our president for the day reflected on the two readings he had brought to our attention, as follows.

“Over the course of the past few years we have been on a journey of new beginnings as a congregation and as individuals. We meet together today, in some ways different and in others the same as when we last gathered here. 

“One of the things that has flourished over the past two years has been a book reading group, by way of daily SMS text exchanges sharing thoughts and feelings around what has been read that day. We’ve read a variety of books together, but one stands out as having been a game changer for me. Perhaps we worked up to it in some of our other reading, perhaps other books helped remove some barriers first, but this book opened doors for me in a way I can’t help but want to share.

“It was a book I had read before, but I very much felt as if I was reading it for the first time. I had had clear ideas what the book was about and opinions about the author, but this time I realised how much I had assumed, how much I had taken onboard other people’s opinions and understanding without being aware of it.  So when I stopped reading it how I thought I was ‘supposed’ to read it, it suddenly looked very different and far more interesting. It was a new beginning.

“That book was the Gospel of Mark. Did you know that it has no nativity, no virgin birth, no Trinity, no Jesus as God-Man, and that it even stops before any Resurrection? 

“Did you know it is possible to read it simply for fun like a novel, to read it as an ancient tragedy play, to read it as a philosophical dialogue, to read it as a political commentary?

“Did you know you can read it and never once find yourself in Sunday School, or being told what it means or what you have to do?  I’m suggesting trying it.  Many Unitarians have personal histories with the Gospels and the Bible in general. For some of us, those histories are painful and complicated. So the Bible can be triggering as well as inspirational, but if you can do it safely it’s worth trying.

“The readings today are an offering of a shared new beginning for anyone who’d like to take up this suggestion." 

“Right from the opening lines of Mark’s Gospel we think we know what he’s talking about, because we’ve imbibed enough through our shared culture and personal religious histories to give particular meanings to ‘good news’ and ‘Christ’.  But let's rewind — we started with the earlier section from Isaiah, which was written much earlier.

“There in Isaiah we read of a good news that has nothing to do with redemption from sin or getting into heaven.  Nothing written there about Jesus.  Instead, we meet another ‘anointed one’, another ‘Christ’, showing us that this title is far more shared and far less narrow in its application — it’s not just Jesus who is denoted 'Christ', 'anointed one'.

“If we can read this very first line of the Gospel of Mark differently — if we can, straight away, start reading a different book from the one we thought we knew — what else can be different, what else can be new?

“Your reason will interpret what you find in Mark.  Your conscience will tell you what is of value and what you can happily forget. Your drive for a lived Truth will decide if anything there nourishes your spirit or changes your practical life.

“And maybe, by holding some images and stories in common as a community we’ll have a framework for ready expression of ideas, a place to start talking and sharing our personal insights. The aim is never that we all think the same, or that we limit the places we find inspiration and wisdom, but it's this: that here at our new beginning perhaps we can learn from our forebears’ shared new beginning.

“It’s an offer, a suggestion, no time limits, no tests.  I got a lot out of re-reading Mark as it’s written and not as I thought it was. Today’s readings start us off together.  Where any of us goes from here is up to them.”