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.”

Perspective from an anxious 2020

[We take a break from our running series of contemplations on the Apostles' Creed, which will be taken up again in due course.  This post is by a different member of our group.]

Not at the end, but in the middle:

The Universe will collapse into another big bang;

    but beforehand

Galaxies will collide;

    but beforehand

The Sun will overheat and expand, swallowing and burning up all its planets and planetary matter;

    but beforehand

The Moon’s orbit will continue to enlarge, causing it to depart the Earth, causing great changes on Earth;

    but beforehand

Tectonic plate activity will have swallowed up Earth's current land mass and will have formed new geological shapes in its crust;

    but beforehand

The supercaldera at Yellowstone Park will have exploded and thrown a dust mantle around the Earth, blocking out all sunlight;

    but beforehand

Life on Earth shall long ago have forgotten humankind and carry on in ways almost alien;

    but beforehand

Several ice ages will have come and gone;

    but beforehand

The human species will have come to an end, probably having made itself and its ecosystem of other life forms extinct;

    but beforehand

My family, and everyone I know, will die after a course lengthened by human knowledge of medicine and food production, having lived lives more or less exploitative of the Earth; our lives profligate, cruel and unthinking, or not so much

None of this can be fixed:  so what’s to worry about?

This worry is partly about whether I am doing it “right”

But there is no greater adult or adult substitute looking over my shoulder to see and judge what I am doing

So it’s tempting to think that I have to be my own judge and jury; except that there’s conscience

And where does conscience come from?

The operational rules of biophysics that confer evolutionary advantage are embodied in human conscience

But where do the operational rules of biophysics come from?

When the universe collapses into another big bang, expansion, subsequent collapse, and continuing process, the operational rules that govern that, where do they come from?

Well:

All there is      is the ground of being.

And everything.  In those terms.  Is all.  Alright.

Religion isn't a provisional truth for scrutiny by a group

This is, as usual for this blog, a personal view, which should not be taken to represent the views in the round of the group of people meeting under the Unitarian banner in Ringwood.

Recently I have been interested to read What Should Citizens Believe?: Exploring the issues of truth, reason & society, by Henry Tam ISBN-13: 978-1548183103 and ISBN-10: 1548183105 published in association with Citizen Network in 2018.

The aim of the book is to share a range of ideas that can help us to test the legitimacy of our beliefs. It was written in the shadow of the hashtag #fakenews and is a very helpful study by this respected academic at Birkbeck College, University of London who is also Director of the Forum of Youth Participation & Democracy, University of Cambridge.

I have also had my interest engaged by the series of programmes currently being screened by the BBC, about a group of people holding a range of different stances on faith, undertaking a pilgrimage to Istabul, along The Sultan’s Trail.

This post brings the two engagements together, and sets them both against direct personal experience.

~~~~~~~~~

Dr Henry Tam brings this to me:

“Objectivity in discourse is only possible if people follow the principle of cooperative enquiry, which demands that … an assertion [be] judged with reference to the extent to which informed participants, deliberating under conditions of thoughtful and un-coerced exchanges, would concur.  Any provisional consensus reached by one group of individuals must in turn be open to possible revisions subject to examinations carried out with input from other groups.  The ultimate strength of any truth claim rests with the likelihood of that claim surviving the critical deliberations of ever-expanding circles of enquirers.”

Many in the Unitarian movement, to which I align myself, might agree that this mode of enquiry is something to be aimed at, though we might also agree that, in practice, little of this cooperative enquiry is being undertaken in our movement at present. 

Nonetheless, the reason there is a Unitarian denomination at all is that certain people among Church congregations throughout the centuries have not accepted dogma, as presented from the pulpit or lectern, without critique and scrutiny against the dictates of conscience.  Secretly or openly, assertions have then been tested in group discourse.  Schisms and re-groupings have then followed; and periodically, successive re-groupings have occurred, in the light of subsequent new discourse and scrutiny.

Whether we consider the present state of the Unitarian movement in UK as burgeoning or diminishing, the movement continues to encompass a healthy degree of the testing of ideas, and tends to reject superstition and modes of ritual that do not in some way focus the minds and hearts of the participants.  Ambitious and optimistic UK Unitarians would hope that our way of being a movement should also aim at rejecting arbitrary hierarchies and exclusionary habits or principles; but few would claim we have attained to that way of being, yet.

So, Unitarians are people who base their lives of spirit and faith in ideas that have been tested with others.  Then the participatory events we engage in, as congregations and groups, aim to make safe spaces for personal worship or spiritual growth, founded on inclusive, common denominators, that have been felt to adhere to broadly acceptable modes.

In short (in rather old-fashioned and very broad-brush language), it might be said that the religion of Unitarians is God-given but passed through the lens of human - and humanist - filters.  It is openly recognised that it is the people who make the Unitarian mode of religion, as experienced in groups, what it is.

So I do understand, and take part in, group critique in the determination of a provisional truth.

~~~~~~~~~

Watching the television programme Pilgrimage: the road to Istanbul, I sat bolt upright when a self-declared atheist pilgrim, in talking to the adherent of a world faith, made reference to “the imaginary people you believe in,” or some wording very similar to that.

I get so bored with misrepresentations and false assumptions and narratives about religion.

I can see that, for some people, religion is defined in terms of, “Are you Christian?  Muslim?  Jewish?  Hindu?  Sikh?” but those labels for me are merely cultural backdrops.  Every age of humankind on every continent has had its wisdom teachers, seers, seemingly miraculous characters, mystics, and more recently in relative terms, its own scriptures.  Gaps in knowledge have ever, always, been backfilled in the human imagination by the good old catch all, “It must have been God / the gods.”  Yes there are distinctions to be made between these labels to do with religion and faith, but they all fall in the same category: all these faiths’ ways of looking at things are cultural stage settings.  And that is all.

If religion were football, equivalent labels would do nothing more than say which team a person plays for.  The labels “Yeovil Town FC”, “AFC Bournemouth”, “MUFC”, “my school’s first team” etc convey nothing of the essence of what it is like to play football: what it is to learn the tools and techniques in theory, to keep personally fit, to train as a group together; what it is to feel the pre-match butterflies, to walk out onto the pitch on a rainy day, the tumble of being tackled, the pain of defeat and the joys of victory.

Football is not everyone’s game and not everyone will have developed the wealth of connotations behind the word ”football” that spring instantly to mind for others.  And that’s ok.

Well: religion is not everyone’s game and not everyone will have developed the wealth of connotations behind the word “religion” that spring instantly to mind for others.  And that’s ok too.

But when I heard what I heard on the television programme, what I first noticed was this: whilst it would not normally be considered good manners to casually say to a footballer, “the pointless exercises of competence you take part in, against other teams, every weekend,” the atheist did not instinctively feel it to be bad manners to say “the imaginary people you believe in”.

Dwelling on this for a moment, I then noticed that the words used said even more about the bad-mannered atheist.  The turn of phrase used revealed that the word “religion” had not been unpacked by the atheist, despite the fact that they were due to take part in a programme, a staged commitment, that was deliberately constructed, and planned well in advance, to explore what faith and belief, of all kinds, might be.  I was struck by how disengaged, ill-prepared, or perhaps lazy, the atheist was showing themself to be.

The atheist thought they understood the word “religion” because they already had in mind an idea of what it is, and what the doctrines of some of the world faiths are.  The atheist was treating “religion” as those ideas that Dr Tam was talking about.  I surmised that it was as if the atheist — with a certain amount of justification, I would agree — were speaking from the platform that no ever-expanding circle of enquirers in the 21st century world would be likely, in un-coerced exchanges, to concur that human persons rise from the dead or take night-time journeys in the heavens (whatever they may be) to become special categories of person with the power to intercede or intervene.  That no ever-expanding circle of enquirers would be likely, in un-coerced exchanges, to concur that there are special rituals which guarantee a secure and safe or even happy life.  That no ever-expanding circle of enquirers would be likely, in un-coerced exchanges, to concur that one group of people have got a privileged way of doing things that will stand the test of all time and be borne out in the end (whatever that might be) to have uniquely worked out how life should be lived.

I am putting words into a person’s mouth, of course.  But I do — I get so bored with misrepresentations and false assumptions and narratives that seem to be common currency, about religion.

Religion isn’t about “what it seems logical or plausible or satisfying to believe or support”; nor is it about group concurrence on provisional truth.

Religion is not a matter of reasoning; and it most emphatically is not a matter of choice.

The semantics of the word give it away: it has its roots in Latin, meaning “that which binds”  (cf “ligature”).

Religion is the stuff that ties you.  That ties you together within yourself.  That ties you to your place in the multiverse.

It’s the stuff you can’t evade.

It’s what you find in yourself when something hard, painful or uncomfortable looks you right in the eye without flinching or drawing back, and in a voice that cannot be unheard, demands of you, “Are you telling the truth?”

It’s what you find in yourself when you are hurting, are nearly broken, can’t find the way back and don’t even know how to try; when you are burning up with shame; or when you are shivering and stone cold in loneliness; and something looks you right in the eye without flinching or drawing back, and in a voice of infinite gentleness that cannot be shied away from, says, “You are seen and known; and you are loved.” 

It’s not always seen in such sudden epiphanies; binding and tying can be gentle, subtle, sneaking-up-on-you processes; but the effect is the same: religion is what cannot be evaded and it is not a choice. 

Religion is not about “imaginary friends.”  It’s about what is experienced: what ties, what challenges.  What wrecks complacency and what re-orders confusions.  What steps in as an unimagined, unexpected disruption that cannot be grasped or comprehended, and transforms, despite all frantic attempts to remain in control.

Religion is not about “making life better” or “making more sense of life” or “making me feel a better person”.  It’s about what won’t be denied.  Religion is a demand.  I recognise that it’s a demand that only a minority of people feel; but that’s alright.  Religion isn't about group concurrence on provisional truth.

The human world would not be what it is without religion.  That doesn’t mean everyone has to experience it.  The human world would not be what it is without science, technology, fine art, music, sport, poetry, even the intricacies of civil administration; and no one says that everyone has to experience, or want to be involved with, any or all of those things, either.   Nonetheless, a writer cannot help but write.  A musician cannot help but make music.  A dancer must dance. Those who are struck by religion must obey the call.

If you don’t experience religion, don’t expect to stand on common ground with those who do:  because, for those who experience religion, no proof is necessary; for those who do not experience religion, no proof is possible.

May 2016 meeting for reverence

The theme of our gathering on Sunday 8 May was “Happiness – Don’t let it get you down”.

 The proposition was that if we define happiness as being a particular condition, then if for some reason we are not able to attain that condition we may add disappointment, guilt or confusion to our personal baggage.  Not only do we “fail” in finding happiness but we entrap ourselves with false expectations – this is scarcely a path to lightness of heart and freedom of living.  We noted that specifying an expected condition for happiness can become a trap within some faith traditions for some of their adherents.

So we looked at various definitions of happiness, starting with the Hellenistic Epicurean, Sceptic and Stoic schools of philosophy.  In essence, Epicureans defined happiness in terms of experiencing pleasure; Sceptics, in terms of honour, in terms of living according to conscience; and Stoics, in terms of evenness of flow of life, i.e. no exaggerated elation or exaggerated disappointment.

We were invited to contemplate in our period of silence how we personally describe or define happiness.  And we were invited to consider that every path cannot be smooth all the time, and, rather than detracting from it, the rough patches actually enrich the overall human experience via poignancy.  As an illustration of this we heard from the closing chapters of  The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien, a man who knew suffering first-hand from his experiences of the Great War.  He was able to write the memorable words, “I will not say: do not weep;  for not all tears are an evil.”

We sang the tune of Amazing Grace but to some words speaking to the changing seasons, the river merging with the sea, birth and death, and each verse closing with the words “Though never twice the same”.  Our gathering ended with the blessing below:

“May the Great Tree spread above you,

And the River run on through you,

May the Star shine soft upon you,

And bathe you in its splendour,

Unto the edge of day.”

Three in One God as experienced universally?

The name "Unitarian" was first used as an insult but was gradually adopted and worn with pride. The insult was originally thrown at people who had read the Bible closely for themselves and couldn't find any reference in it to the Holy Trinity that had become (and remains) part of the doctrine of the traditional Christian Church. They were being insulted for using their own powers of intellect and analysis, and for coming up with an answer that accorded with their own consciences but which other people didn't understand or like. We can all understand that, can't we, because we are all wary of people who use different assumptions from our own.

So with tomorrow being celebrated by Christians in the west as Trinity Sunday, it is refreshing to find, on a website aiming for universal appeal, a new take on the Trinity, that might well be acceptable to people who now call themselves Unitarian:

".......creative Source that pours itself out in loving self-giving ('Father')... experience [of] ourselves ('Son') and all there is, as gift flowing from that Source ...... experience [of] life and love as a sacred mystery ('Spirit')...." 

 http://www.gratefulness.org/calendar/detail.cfm?id=50

In the conscience

Is there a Unitarian faith, and if there is, is it a religion in its own right, or does it just borrow from other faiths?”

What hard questions to answer.  The starting answer is that there is no single faith for all Unitarians, so it would be meaningless to ask, “What is THE Unitarian faith?”   But it would be meaningful to ask, “What is the faith of Unitarians?” despite the fact that there will be many answers.

So here you will find just one Unitarian’s answer to: “Is there a Unitarian faith, and if there is, is it a religion in its own right, or does it just borrow from other faiths?”

~~~~

Many Unitarians would agree that a person is a unique meeting point within the universe.  A meeting point in time and space of the universal laws, the randomness of chance, the biologically inherited characteristics, the cultural upbringing, the body and its skills, the senses and emotions, the memory and  intellect, and the conscience.

Most of all, the conscience.

For each meeting point that we call a person, there is what might be described as a “calling”.  I guess it would be common for Unitarians to accept that each different person has a different calling.

As a result of that, Unitarians long ago rejected the idea that there should be one statement of belief, called a creed, for everyone who is in search of a fulfilled inner life to sign up to, either freely or under coercion.  In more recent centuries Unitarians have also rejected the idea that any single philosophy or religion framework is supreme over all others.  Many Unitarians investigate the frameworks of faith of a number of world religions, and find much of value in them, that speaks to their current position.

Unitarians do not declare any of the traditional faith systems to trump any other.  We do not accept the assertion from any adherents of the traditional world faiths that it has to be “all, or nothing”; we do not agree that a successful spiritual search depends on adoption of a single religion, to the exclusion of others.  We agree with many, however, that the search has to be disciplined and on-going over a whole lifetime if it is to yield fruit.

Many Unitarians would assert that the prime point where Essential Truths operate, the place within which the “bigger than daily life” Pure Life is lived, experienced and acted upon, is the conscience of each person.  We assert that, whilst it is possible to get glimpses of God or the Ultimate through relentless and dedicated application of a range of faith practices (and also secular practices), the Redeeming Truth – which everyone seeks as a remedy for restlessness – transcends ALL religions.

So let us say that for a while I soak myself in the learned wisdom of traditional Christianity, and I gain much.  And then, while I am struggling to understand how to apply Christianity in my life, say I am impacted upon by the Tibetan form of Buddhism: then, I may suffer the breaking of my mental models, my expectations, my sense of direction.   I may experience confusion as the icons I was becoming used to, my windows on the divine, are called into question, or wrenched from me.  A modern therapist might call this a “cognitive dissonance”.

Would that mean that my Christianity had somehow been “wrong”?  That the set of ideas new to me, Tibetan Buddhism, should be rejected as “wrong”?  Or that Buddhism is “right” or “better” and I should reject my attempt at Christianity?  Have I been “doing it wrong”?

The answer is “none of the above”.  A genuine Unitarian calling might, in fact, provide the strength and motivation to struggle through this cognitive dissonance and come out the other side, stronger.  A Unitarian view might be that there is no competition between well developed faith systems.  Unitarians might say that for many people, the well-developed faith systems are perfect callings, and those people would do well to adhere to them.  For instance, it is conceivable that a Unitarian would advise a wavering Muslim to go back to Islam and study Islam further; or suggest to a lapsed Catholic that they go and have a chat with their priest and see if they can uncover what has caused them to drift away from their faith and faith community – with a view to returning to it.  Whereas, for themselves, Unitarians may have a different calling altogether.

The thing about the Unitarian calling is that it also tends to be universalist in outlook.  By which I mean that, at heart, Unitarians may feel it to be true that what applies to ONE human being applies in some way at some level to ALL human beings, without exception – just like gravity, or the tides, the rise of the sun, or the fact that we all breathe oxygen.  So we are curious about what different faiths say that can be applied everywhere, to everyone.

People who – it turns out – are genuinely called to be Unitarians may study a wide range of world faiths and may notice that in some places there are not necessarily direct “translations” from (say) traditional Christianity into Buddhism; or Hinduism into Judaism; or Classical Greek Stoicism into Sikhism or Islam.  There are GAPS between the frameworks.  Something is missing from the universalist point of view.   Yet a Unitarian outlook would assert that Universal Laws and Unassailable Truth must nonetheless exist in those gaps.  For the Ultimate to be the Ultimate it must apply NOT ONLY in all frameworks and knowledge systems, in all pictures and metaphors we are able to imagine, BUT ALSO in the gaps between and beyond all these human-made constructs.  For the Ultimate to be the Ultimate, it must actually be Ultimate; it must transcend all human experience of religion.

The place where we meet the Ultimate is in our conscience.  And that is where the Ultimate meets us, too.   The Ultimate, aka “The Way Life (And Everything Beyond It) Is Turning Out”, experiences for Itself new combinations in each person that It brings into existence.  We see that it is in the conscience of each person that the exact and unique experience is felt, which we were brought into being expressly to manifest.  So if one day I am led along a wisdom path derived from one faith and the next day out of the blue I am fed a new wisdom: well, that is because the exact juxtaposition of these two wisdoms is what I was required to experience at this point in the universe, with who I am, right now.  Neither faith system is wrong (or less true), and neither is right (or more true).  Neither is supreme and neither is final.  What is right, and wanted, is the nexus of the two at that point in me as I am at that moment, all things considered.

This sort of view can be pooh-poohed by more traditional religions, as a half-hearted “pick and mix” approach to faith.  But I’m telling you, it’s not a barrel of laughs to be caught by these cognitive dissonances – they rock your whole being and it can take a long period of trust and re-learning to recover from them.  But if you have experienced one, and found it thrilling, and haunting – if you have followed me in this – perhaps your calling is to be Unitarian. 

Are you a Ringwood Unitarian without knowing it?

There are Unitarians in Ringwood.  It's just that they don't yet call themselves Unitarians because they don't know the name "Unitarian".  Are you one of these?

The thing about being a Unitarian is that there is no rule about what a Unitarian is.  Some say it's about hope, some say it's about systems of belief, some say it's about how you live.  Some say it's about freedom, reason and tolerance.  Some say it's about how you do a radically 21st century way of faith.  The national support team for Unitarians says it could be described as "nurturing faith, embracing life, celebrating difference".  All would agree that being a Unitarian is about exploring fundamental and searching questions, and not about preaching answers.  Unitarians also agree that the ultimate authority for anyone has to be their living, challenging, perplexing conscience, no matter what any other person says.  Behind all of this is the traditional Unitarian insistence on the oneness of God or the God idea, from which we get our name.  We set great store by any wisdom framework that points towards that oneness, without worrying about where that wisdom comes from.

Unitarians insist on the central call to love and typically care about right relationships such as

• equal rights and the ending of oppression
• being in touch with the Earth and its growing creatures and living lightly on the planet
• being in touch with how we have got to where we are now and what that means for our shared future
• being in balance in our inner life
• being human together and supporting strong communities

and about doing more than thinking about right relationships - Unitarians typically care about getting down and working for it, working for that better world now.