The question is one that a lot of religious people and leaders are asking themselves right now. The global health pandemic means that responsible congregations throughout the world have shuttered their doors to physical services for the foreseeable future. Some are continuing to use their sanctuaries to film online services, others are producing online services directly from the homes of clergy and staff, and some are not meeting at all. Many are hosting online religious education, meditation, small group ministry, and social forums.

The situation is in many ways a new one. This is not the first time when religious communities have had to close their physical spaces during a time of pestilence and plague. But it is the first time that such a mass closing of worship services has taken place when technology is broadly available for almost any congregation to have some kind of online presence.

There are a lot of people trying to figure out what to do and how congregations should react to the situation. The UUA has a lot of advice. I’ve also read pieces from Sightings and from the remnants of the Alban Institute. As I have been thinking about these dynamics myself, I have been seeking answers to five questions: 1. Why have an online congregation? 2. What is an online congregation? 3. Who participates in an online congregation? 4. Where does an online congregation meet? 5. How does an online congregation meet?

1. Why have an online congregation?

This turns out to be a bit of trick question. The answer that immediately comes to mind is that we have an online congregation because our congregation can no longer meet in-person. And so, the online congregation becomes a representation of, a metaphor for, or even a simulacrum of the physical congregation that is (we hope temporarily) shuttered.

In the case of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston, an online congregation is a sort of placeholder that exists to provide a way for the members and friends of the shuttered physical congregation to continue to connect with each other. It also a way for us to continue to serve the wider community by making publicly available the kind of programs we normally offer throughout the week. So, for instance, in addition to our online worship service we have a weekly online forum that I am curating and many small groups that meet over Zoom.

My description of why we have online congregations leaves aside entities like the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF)–a non-physical Unitarian Universalist church that provides services for anyone who cannot, or does not want to, connect with a congregation that gathers in-person. But, this leaving aside also raises an issue. There are some online congregations–Unitarian Universalist and otherwise–that existed prior to the pandemic. One of the principle questions that newly online congregations like mine will need to answer in the months that come is: What distinguishes us from previously existing entities like the CLF? The Robert Koch Institut, roughly the German government’s equivalent of the CDC, is forecasting that it might be as long as 18 months before large physical gatherings are safe again. If that is true then this question will become all the more important.

2. What is an online congregation?

A painting of a synagogue is not a synagogue. A photograph of church is not a church. And an online congregation is not a physical congregation. It is both representation of a congregation that meets in-person and something different than a congregation that meets in person.

In some sense, an online congregation might be regarded as what Benedict Anderson named an “imagined community.” Anderson coined the term to describe nation states that are bound together by the imaginations of their individual citizens. It is an act of imagination to envision that people who live in Houston and Chicago have something in common while people in Houston and Mexico City do not. Imagined communities are typically bound together by the use of shared symbols (such as flags) and rituals (like voting or holidays). They can be bound together by other things as well–currency, language, bodies of law–but that appears to be less important than the use of either symbol or ritual.

Online congregations are imagined communities because their members–or participants–imagine themselves to be part of the same religious community. We cannot gather together in person. We cannot easily interact with most other members of the congregation. But we can imagine ourselves to be joined in religious communion.

This imagined aspect of community is quite different than what takes place on a Sunday morning. And that opens up another question: How do congregational leaders sustain the imaginations of their members so that they continue to imagine themselves to part of the same imagined community? There are various strategies that might be deployed and First Houston is using a number of them. We have videos posted online twice a week: a weekly forum and a weekly worship service. We offer numerous online Zoom gatherings: small groups, online classes, and virtual coffee hours. We have Facebook pages for both of our campuses and send out email messages twice a week. We have a program where volunteers from the congregation call other members between once a week and twice a month. I keep this blog…

What might not be obvious is that in some sense religious communities have always been imagined communities–even if local congregations have not been. The very function of the Pauline letters in the Christian New Testament was to knit to together scattered local congregations–many of which were probably very small–in such a way as to help them imagine themselves as part of the same religious movement. The shared hymnal that Unitarian Universalists serves a similar function. And so does almost all scripture and liturgy–which allows people to imagine contiguous communities across time and space.

3. Who participates in an online congregation?

This might be the most disruptive question in my list. And it is something that depends a lot on the technology choices that congregational leaders make and how they choose to advertise their congregational offerings. The staff and I have decided to make the offerings of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston open to all who are interested in them. We are posting prerecorded services to YouTube and inviting people who are interested in participating in our online meetings to preregister for them. This is essentially what we did prior to the pandemic: Sunday services were open to anyone who wanted to visit and programs were open to anyone who registered to participate in them.

There is, however, one striking difference: anyone in the world who has access to internet and who wants to can view our prerecorded services or register and participate in our online programs. We have seen two shifts in congregational life as a result. First, we have had a small number of non-Houston based people participating in either our program offerings, such as our parents group, or viewing our Sunday services online. We have received, for instance, some Sunday morning offering donations from people who don’t live in the Houston area.

Second, we have been able to draw from non-local people for participation in our programs. We have specifically done this through our visual meditations. They have drawn from artists through the United States, Europe, and the Middle East. Those artists have shared the videos with the friends and families, thus increasing the reach of the congregation. I have also started to do this through my forum guests. Of the four people I’ve done forums with thus far two have been local (Kim Waller and Diana Tang) and two have been from outside of Houston (Kate Coyer and Ty). Thus far, the most watched forum is one featuring a guest from outside Houston.

My big questions here are: What will this larger reach mean for the congregation when we begin to gather again in person? Will we want to keep people from outside of Houston engaged in congregational life? If so, how will we do that?

4. Where does an online congregation meet? and 5. How does an online congregation meet?

These last two seem like they should have obvious answers: on the internet and through multiple platforms. However, I think that the answers can be somewhat nuanced or complicated. For instance, the online congregation need not meet only through the internet. I speak regularly with folks from First Houston on the phone and we have a LINKS program where each member of the congregation is assigned a volunteer who calls them on a regular basis. These are forms of meeting that fall outside of being strictly online. I also find them to be more effective than a lot interactions mediated by the internet.

As for how, well… there are a lot of different platforms available. We have decided against livestreaming services in favor of pre-recording them and posting them as YouTube videos. This allows us to have an easy public face that anyone who wants to can access and also doesn’t lock people into participating at a particular time. Right now, we have just over 900 households viewing our YouTube videos on a regular basis–almost triple the number who attend the congregation when we meet in person.

There’s been a strong tendency towards religious communities using Zoom to host various kinds of online gatherings–something we’re doing. I suspect that as the months pass we’ll shift the exact how of we meet online. Technology will most likely evolve and we’ll find somethings to be more effective than others. For instance, it already seems clear that the programs that we offer for general check-in are not nearly as popular as the more structured ones. It might also become clear that alternative platforms to Zoom are more effective for the congregation’s needs.

In sum, there are a lot of unknowns about how the next several months will unfold. Religious communities like mine will need to continue to adapt. The pandemic brings with it both grave challenges and some interesting opportunities for congregational life. Both addressing the challenges and seizing the opportunties will probably take a fair amount of imagination. I’m actually excited to see how religious communities adapt themselves. And I hope that in our efforts to adapt the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston will continue to be what has been for more than a hundred years: a community devoted building the beloved community and uncovering the potential lying within each human heart.

The global health pandemic is upending many things right now. Religious communities have been impacted and, as the senior minister of decent sized multi-site congregation, I have had to think a lot about congregational finances. We have about twenty people–both full-time and part-time–who work for the congregation in some capacity. I know that in order to continue to provide services to the congregation and the community I need to keep them employed for as long as possible. I also know that, someday, we will need to re-open our physical operations and that, when we do, we will need a staff onsite to offer worship, nurture religious community, and provide pastoral care for all those who wish to join with us.

Last night, I presented my Board with a modified budget for the rest of the fiscal year and some principles under which I would be developing the 2020-2021 fiscal year budget. A couple of colleagues have asked for assistance in forecasting their budgets for the next year and for figuring out how to make it through the rest of the fiscal year. In that light, I am sharing what I came up with:

1. The congregation should try to keep all staff, including, or perhaps especially given their economic vulnerability, hourly workers employed as long as possible.
2. All staff should be expected to work to their ability during this time. If they get sick they will continue to get paid. Not paid a set number of sick days, just paid, until such time as they are well enough to work again. If they have a job, such as being a Sunday nursery care worker, that is not needed at this time, they should continue to get paid.
3. The physical plant will cost less to operate. We will be using less electricity, less paper, and so forth. Some staff will need to continue to come into work to maintain the physical plant. Most will be able to work from home. We should forecast significant savings in utilities and the like because of the reduced costs to operate our physical locations.
4. All non-critical repairs that cannot be completed by the sexton should be deferred.
5. We should assume minimal offering income during this time. We normally get about $5,000 in offering income a month. I am assuming only $1,000 a month in offering income.
6. We should assume no rental income for the remainder of the fiscal year and, at best, reduced rental income beginning in September 2020 (which might be optimistic given the incompetence of the current leadership of the Federal Executive).
7. We should assume some people will not be able to honor their pledges. I am assuming that the country rapidly hits around 20% unemployment.* And, accordingly, I am assuming that we only receive 80% of remaining pledges for the fiscal year and only 80%** committed/forecast pledges for the next fiscal year.
8. All program spending is frozen, effective immediately.
9. We should draw from the operating reserves. If there ever was a rainy day, this is it.
10. We should freeze all staff salaries at current levels.
11. We should plan on having the above cost cutting procedures in place through at least June 2021.
12. If things get worse we may have to make additional cuts. Think about cutting people’s salaries (including your own) before you cut their jobs.

My recommendations to my fellow religious leaders:

1. Move as quickly as possible to aggressively and compassionately cut your budget.
2. Revise your income forecasts along the above lines.
3. Prepare for at least 18 months of financial hardship.
4. Remember, you’re the steward of an institution that has likely seen significant hard times before and will likely see them again. Don’t panic.

* Unemployment during the Great Depression hit about 25% at its peak in 1933. In 1929 it was 3.14% and, the next year, it rose to 9%. It continued to rise until there was aggressive and intelligent intervention by the federal government–something unthinkable under the current administration. The precarious nature of much of contemporary work and the so-called gig economy (which is really just a way for corporations to mercilessly exploit workers) suggests that the unemployment rate will rise very very quickly. In my home state of Michigan they’ve seen a jump of 1,500% in unemployment claims in a single week. Retail and hospitality are both in freefall and combined make up about 20% of the workforce. The significant loses these industries will and are experiencing will have a cascading effect throughout the economy. And that doesn’t take into consideration the impact the other industries that are experiencing job losses because, say, factories can’t operate safely, will have on the economy.
** The formula I’m using for my congregation is significantly more complicated. However, I still come up with around the 80% number.

I have been asked by a couple of people to make Board report for the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston public and share it on my blog. I have included a modified version of it below. I have substituted staff positions for names and redacted confidential information. Hopefully, other ministers and congregations will find it helpful in thinking how they might address the current crisis.

March 17, 2020

Dear Board and Staff:

These are strange and extraordinary times. The most important things we can do during them are to take appropriate safety precautions, take care of ourselves and all the members of our community, avoid panicking, connect with each other virtually, and think strategically.

The Board will be meeting virtually on Wednesday. The staff is planning, for the time being, to continue to work from the Museum District campus so that we can create a high-quality online worship experience for the congregation. We are also working on developing a plan to deliver online worship services in the event that it becomes necessary for us to shelter in place. [Music Director] has a home music studio and [A/V Tech] is able to produce the service on his laptop. Starting on March 17th, the ministers will be taking cameras to and from work so that we have appropriate equipment to record sermons at home if we need to.

This letter essentially serves as a substitute for my monthly Board report. It outlines my current thinking and the steps I believe the church should be taking to best serve our community and weather this difficult time. There are ten things I believe we should either assume or be planning for:

1. At least six months of online church.

We need to do all we can to help flatten the curve. The state of Texas is urging for the closure of schools for the rest of the school year. Many colleges and universities have switched to online classes through the end of the school year. The best epidemiological modeling I have seen seems to indicate that the peak of the pandemic should hit in about July–this was hinted at in the President’s most recent statement. If that is true, then we probably will not able to reopen either of the campuses for Sunday services until September.

We are planning four sets of online programs:

1. An online Sunday service, delivered via YouTube and made available on Sundays at 10:30 a.m. We have opted against streaming services because we believe that [A/V Tech] can produce a higher quality YouTube program than a livestreamed service. [Senior Minister] will be primarily responsible for this program.

2. An online Sunday gathering place, curated by [Director of Religious Education]. The online gathering place will be an opportunity for members of the congregation to connect virtually. It will include an intergenerational opportunity for check-in, reflection, and song. It will most likely take place over Zoom. It may require the recruitment of some number of volunteer facilitators. [Director of Religious Education] will be ultimately responsible for this program.

3. A midweek video message from the senior minister, delivered via YouTube and made available on Wednesdays. These videos will be short conversations between me and an expert or community leader who can help the congregation better understand how to deal with the crisis. The first video will go live on March 25th and feature Dr. Kim Waller, the epidemiologist and member of the congregation who had originally planned to offer us a forum on March 22nd. [Senior Minister] will be primarily responsible for this program.

4. A midweek online space for religious education families curated by [Director of Religious Education]. She will be using Zoom to facilitate and may ultimately decide to recruit volunteers in order to host multiple groups at the same time. [Director of Religious Education] will be ultimately responsible for this program.

2. Significant financial hardship for the church.

Many economists now believe that the economy is in recession. The speed at which the virus that causes COVID-19 has spread suggests that this will be no ordinary recession. I served the Unitarian Universalist Society of Cleveland during the Great Recession of 2007-2009. During that recession, we experienced an 18-month lag in financial impact on the church. I believe that the financial impact of this recession will be much more rapid. To give just two examples, we will likely lose all of rental income for the remainder of the fiscal year and for part of the 2020-2021 fiscal year and see a dip in our weekly offering income.

I will submit a modified budget for the rest of the fiscal year tomorrow morning based on our revenue and expenses through March 17, 2020. I am also submitting a budget for the 2020-2021 that takes the current financial crisis into account in projections. [redacted]

I believe that we should attempt to keep everyone who works for First Church employed through the duration of the crisis. The modified budget I am submitting includes the following provisions:

— a freeze on all program spending effective immediately;
— the continuation of pay for hourly employees per their regularly scheduled hours;
— the deferral of all non-critical maintenance on either campus that cannot be completed by [Sexton].

The budget I am submitting for the fiscal year 2020-2021 will:

— anticipate significant drops in pledge, offering, and rental income;
— freeze all staff salaries at current levels;
— cut programs at both campuses;
— use the Reserve Fund to maintain staff levels for growth.

3. The possibility that some members of the congregation will get sick or even die. The assumption that many of them will experience financial hardship.

[Assistant Minister] has been tasked with developing a plan to connect with the most vulnerable members of the congregation on a regular basis. This plan will include how we might safely organize food delivery for them in the event they need it and hold online memorial services if necessary. It will also include plans for distribute aid, if requested, for members in need.

4. The possibility that the staff will be confined to their houses.

We need to prepare for the possibility that the staff will have to work from home. In the event that occurs, [Business Administrator] and [Bookkeeper] have been tasked with figuring out how to run our financial operations remotely. We are also preparing to create online services remotely and make sure that the building will be safe in the event that no one is able to get to into it. [Business Administrator] and [Senior Minister] will be taking ultimate responsibility for developing this plan.

5. The possibility that some members of the staff will get sick.

In the event that staff members become incapacitated, I am designating the following chains of succession:

Senior Minister:
1. [Senior Minister]
2. [Assistant Minister]
3. [Minister Emeritus]

Assistant/Campus Minister
1. [Assistant Minister]
2. [Campus Program Staff Person]
3. [Senior Minister]

Business Administrator:
1. [Business Administrator]
2. [Bookkeeper]
3. [Minister Emeritus]

Director of Religious Education:
1. [Director of Religious Education]
2. [Religious Education Assistant]
3. [Membership and Communications Coordinator]

Membership and Communications Coordinator:
1. [Membership and Communications Coordinator]
2. [Administrative Assistant]
3. [Assistant Minister]

A/V Technician:
1. [A/V Technician]
2. [Contractor]
3. [Membership and Communications Coordinator]

Music Director:
1. [Music Director]
2. [Accompanist]
3. [Volunteer Musician]

Facilities (Museum District)
1. [Sexton]
2. Volunteer Designated by the Board
3. Volunteer Designated by the Board

Facilities (Thoreau)
1. Volunteer Designated by Campus Advisory Team
2. Volunteer Designated by Campus Advisory Team
3. Volunteer Designated by Campus Advisory Team

6. We should use this as an opportunity to build our online presence.

The global health emergency means that people will be more online than ever before during this time of crisis. We will be doing everything we can to expand the congregation’s social media and online footprint. [Membership and Communications Coordinator] has been tasked with simplifying the front page of our web page so that it only includes the following:

— embedded video content of the most recent online services and midweek message;
— links to archived video content;
— donation tab;
— information about joining the congregation;
— information and links to online programming;
— links to social media channels (Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram);
— a subscription button for our newsletter;
— links to recent news;
— a links to the current website, which will be archived until such time as we return to physical services.

As starting metrics, I note the following:

Newsletter — [aaa] subscribers
Church Twitter — [bbb] followers
1st 24 hour views of an online church service — [ccc] views ; [ddd] likes
YouTube — [eee] subscribers
Facebook (MD) — [fff] Likes

And, I’m setting the following goals for September:

Newsletter — [aaa*1.33] subscribers
Church Twitter — [bbb*1.33] followers
1st 24-hour views of an online church service — [ccc*1.33] views
YouTube — [ccc*2] subscribers
Facebook (MD) — [fff*1.33] Likes

[Membership and Communications Coordinator] has also been tasked with developing an online path to membership. Before the pandemic hit we had [ggg] people planning to join during the month of March. Our goal is that by September all [ggg] of these people will have joined.

7. We should be prepared to move immediately to two services at both campuses when we resume services.

We should be prepared to do this for two reasons:

a) We will want to encourage social distancing for some period of time after the pandemic dies down;
b) We should anticipate pent up demand for physical community once it is safe to gather again.

[Assistant Minister] has been tasked with developing the plans for two services at both campuses.

8. As difficult as it seems, we need to think strategically about the long-term growth of the congregation.

[Redacted]

9. We should, for the immediate future, act as if there is no federal or state government.

The United States government and the state of Texas have shown a frighteningly absences of leadership during this global health emergency. We cannot rely upon them for leadership. Instead, we will be looking to the following authorities and individuals for guidance on how to respond to the crisis:

a) The City of Houston and Harris County. Both Mayor Turner and Judge Hidalgo have been frank about the city and county’s lack of preparedness to deal with the health crisis. They have urged urgent action and reasonable counsel. We will follow their recommendations as to how religious communities should be responding to the crisis.

b) The governors of New York and Ohio. Both have shown significant foresight and appear to be ahead of the curve on how to contain the virus.

c) The Unitarian Universalist Association. President Susan Frederick-Gray has proven herself again and again to have a level head in a crisis and to demonstrate compassionate and thoughtful leadership–requesting that churches close last Sunday. Her decision to discourage over 100,000 people from attending worship almost certainly saved lives.

d) The Center for Disease Control and the World Health Organization. The response of the CDC has been a national embarrassment. The current President gutted their funding, a move which undoubtedly slowed their response to the pandemic and did much to create the current crisis. However, the CDC now seems to be getting its footing and offering useful advice. The WHO has offered useful advice throughout the pandemic.

e) [names of members of the congregation who are health professionals, redacted]

10. We should prepare for the possibility that the current President will use the pandemic as an opportunity to consolidate power.

The current President has shown himself, again and again, to have autocratic and anti-democratic politics. Both global and national history has repeatedly shown that such individuals rarely let a crisis go to waste. They often use crises to implement policies or pursue agendas that they would never be able to put in place during normal times. The national crisis of September 11th was used by the then resident of the White House to: effectively destroy the post-World War II global (or at least European and United States) human rights regimes; launch an unnecessary war of choice that destabilized an entire region of the world and cost millions of lives; and sideline or silence domestic dissent and social movements.

In sum, at such a moment of crisis, we are called to remember the prophetic function of our religious community even while we focus on the all-important tasks of pastoral care and stewardship before us. In light of this, [Assistant Minister] and I will continue to maintain a free pulpit. We will continue to work with our partner organizations to, as best we can, dismantle white supremacy, address the climate crisis, foster democracy, and build the beloved community.

love,

the Rev. Dr. Colin Bossen

Dear Members and Friends of First Church:

It is with sadness that I announce that we will not be holding in-person services at neither our Museum District nor Thoreau campuses. The Unitarian Universalist Association has asked that all congregations suspend gatherings of more than 25 people — including worship and religious education — effective immediately. The rapid spread of the virus that causes COVID-19 indicates that proceeding at this time with an abundance of caution is the best response we can have to this global health emergency.

The staff, Board President and Vice President, and I all know that our religious community is a vital source of comfort, healing, sustenance and strength during these difficult and uncertain times. Effective this Sunday, we will be moving our services online so that we can continue our work of caring for each other, bringing more beauty and joy in the world, and providing solace and inspiration to all who wish to join with us. Rev. Scott will be providing the congregation an online sermon titled “Loving Compassion Into the World.” It will be available starting at 5:00 p.m. Sunday via our YouTube channel and website. Links to it will also be sent out via email and social media. Starting on Sunday, March 22nd, we will be offering online services at 10:30 a.m. At that time, we will be posting a video service complete with music from our award-winning, Music Director, Mark Vogel, readings by both our ministers, a visual meditation, and, of course, a sermon. I will be preaching next week’s service, “Once upon a time we had… time,” on how feminist theology can help us through this health crisis. Following the March 22nd service, and going forward, our Director of Religious Education, Carol Burrus, will hosting a virtual gathering for all ages at 11:45 a.m. via Zoom.

We all owe the staff many thanks for their rapid and professional response to this crisis. More information about our virtual gatherings will be available next week.

In the meantime, as of this writing, the Museum District building will remain open during normal hours of operation, 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., Mondays through Fridays. And our FotoFest exhibition “Now is the Time,” will remain open from 2:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m., Mondays through Fridays. Small groups of less than twenty-five people will be allowed to meet during their regular scheduled times on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. This Sunday small groups will be allowed to meet during their regular times. Starting on March 22nd, the Museum District campus will be closed to everyone on Sundays. Small groups of less than twenty-five people can continue to meet at Thoreau at the discretion of the Campus Advisory Team. If there are further changes about the status of either building we will let people know immediately. Throughout this time, small groups are encouraged to consider meeting via Zoom.

We are in the process of developing plans to provide pastoral care online. Look for more information about online small group meetings and pastoral care in the coming days.

In advising us how best to proceed during this global health emergency, Unitarian Universalist President, the Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray, has told the leaders of member congregations:

Remember that, as we have to adapt quickly and try new things, perfection is never the goal. The goal is to care for one another and live compassionately. Know that your care and intention really makes a difference to your community and to your own well-being. I am enormously grateful for all of you and the leadership you provide our congregations. I love you and I am proud of the way that Unitarian Universalists are taking the situation seriously and responding out of deep care.

Susan’s words are a wise balm for all of us. We need to love each other, live with compassion, and proceed with as much care and caution as we can. You are all on my heart and if you have any concerns or pastoral needs at this time do not hesitate to contact me. I will see you online soon and will live with the hope that I will see you in-person as soon as it safe for us to gather again.

love,

Colin

as preached at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston, February 23, 2020

As you know, we are in the midst of stewardship season. And I want to thank all of you who have made your pledges to support First Church so far. We had a really lovely early pledgers party last night. The stewardship team put on a great event with good conversation, good food, and, my favorite, good dancing. It was a pleasure to proverbially cut a rug with some of you. I think we may have to do it more often. And I want to lift up Dick Doughty for bringing his DJ skills to the party. I very much enjoyed the mix of World Beat infused electronica he provided us–and the bit of Chicago house he played to humor me. It was a lovely reminder that we humans share a universal need to, as the adage runs, shake what your mother gave you. As the funk anthem goes, we are one nation under a groove.

The poet Rumi wrote:

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and right doing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.

I sometimes think that the field he was talking about was the dance floor–that space where we can come together beyond words and just experience the pleasure of connectedness through sound and movement.

So, thank you stewardship team and Dick for creating that space. I hope that the early pledger party will become a tradition. It is something that can be open everyone who contributes to sustain the beautiful community that is this congregation–an opportunity to celebrate the joy, compassion, and love that bind First Church together.

Speaking of stewardship, one of the many things that your gifts to this congregation allow us to do is bring fabulous guest preachers. This month, we have had two talented religious leaders come and bless us with powerful messages. My dear friend Aisha Hauser came and gifted us with a sermon challenging us to lead with love and liberation. And Duncan Teague, who is something of a new friend, brought us a story from his life about a time when his imagination failed him and what he learned from that experience. In their own ways, each of them called us to imagine the liberating power of our Unitarian Universalist tradition. Each of them called us to imagine a Unitarian Universalism big enough for everyone, a Unitarian Universalism where we truly live into the vision of our religious ancestors: God loves everyone, no exceptions.

Their words painted pictures of what we might, following the historian Robin Kelley, call freedom dreams. These are, in his words, visions of “life as possibility” in which exist “endless meadows without boundaries, free of evil and violence, free of toxins and environmental hazards, free of poverty, racism, and sexism… just free.”

We dream freedom dreams when we are called, in the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., to trust in “a power that is able to make a way out of no way.” Freedom dreams are the paths–paths which often seem impossible–that lead us to a way when we are stuck in no way. We open ourselves to them when we realize that imagination is one of the most powerful forces on this Earth. Imagination enables us to bring things into being that do not exist. Every human creation that exists–microwaves, computers, violins, soccer balls, teacups, cutting boards, bundt cakes, brick sanctuaries, or well-tailored suits–began in someone’s imagination.

Imagination uncovers hidden paths when all the roads seem closed. Imagination lets us find a route through the forest when we reach the end of the trail. Imagination is trusting that there is a power which, no matter how difficult the day, how drear the hour, will help us to find more love somewhere, more hope somewhere, more peace, more joy. It might not be right here, we might not see it before us, it might not be present in the brutalities and disappointments of our daily lives, as we suffer, as so many of us do, from an exploitative and extractive economic system, but we can imagine that there is a power which, if we keep on keeping on, will enable us to find more love somewhere.

It is one of the purposes of this religious community to help each of us discover and uncover that power. It resides within each of us and surrounds all of us. It comes in many forms. We can call it by many names. Some of us might choose to label it God. Others might find that language limiting or oppressive and prefer to call it human creativity. For my part, I find this power runs beyond my human ability to describe or understand in its totality.

Sometimes we cry out and only encounter its absence. Not everyone is able to find a way out of no way. That is a reality that is heavy on my heart this morning. It is the last Sunday of Black History Month. Black History Month was conceived by the historian Carter G. Woodson as a time to celebrate the achievements of the African American community. A time to lift up: great abolitionists like Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass; great scientists including Neil deGrasse Tyson and Daniel Hale Williams–the first surgeon to perform an open heart surgery; great athletes such as Muhammed Ali and the Williams Sisters; great musicians like Nina Simone and Beyoncé; great writers like Toni Morrison and James Baldwin; great artists such as Jean-Michel Basquiat and Kara Walker; great spiritual leaders like Malcolm X and Fannie Lou Hamer…

The list could go on for hours. But there is a difficult truth behind it. We would not be celebrating Black History this month if it was not for the horror of the TransAtlantic slave trade. We only have Black History Month because one of the most brutal exercises in human history. Reflecting on a need to recognize this dynamic as part of Black History Month, writing in the New York Times, Erin Aubry Kaplan recently argued, “It’s time to acknowledge what black history really reveals — not individual heroism or the endurance of democratic ideals, but their opposites.” Black History Month, in other words, reveals not just the beauty and power of black people but the brutality and danger of white supremacy.

And so, as part of Black History Month, it is important to take a moment to honor all those who suffered as they were unwilling brought from Africa to the American continents. The Caribbean poet Edouard Glissant offers a challenging description of their pain:

“Imagine two hundred human beings crammed into a space barely capable of containing a third of them. Imagine vomit, naked flesh, swarming lice, the dead slumped, the dying crouched. Imagine, if you can, the swirling red of mounting to the deck, the ramp they climbed, the black sun on the horizon, vertigo, this dizzying sky plastered to the waves.”

It is terrifying to imagine that between 1502 when the first enslaved Africans arrived in the Caribbean and the 1880s, when the last ship landed with an illegal human cargo in Brazil, some ten to twelve million people–parents, children, friends, husbands, wives, mothers, lovers, elders, and babies–were forcibly moved across the ocean blue. Not all of them arrived. Not all of them made a way out of no way. Some died of illness. Some were thrown overboard by brutal captains who decided it was easier to collect insurance money for lost human cargo than to transport unwilling people from one continent to another. And some threw themselves into murky blue graves rather than endure a life of unfreedom.

The discouraging, disheartening, dismal truth is sometimes it is impossible to find the power that will help us make a way out of no way. But, then, I am not entirely certain that finding a way out of no way is something we are supposed to do on our own. Nor am I entirely certain that we are supposed to be finding a way out of no way for ourselves. I suspect that when we dream freedom dreams, we are often dreaming them for the people who will come after us.

There were people who dreamed freedom dreams in the bellies of those disgusting slave ships. Many of them dreamed those dreams for themselves–dreamed of returning to Africa. Many of them also dreamed dreams for their descendants, for the people who would come after them. They imagined that the world might not be better for them, but it could be better for future generations: there is more love somewhere.

Sometimes when I think about freedom dreams, I think about the last public words of Martin King, the words he left us right before he was brought down by a white supremacist bullet. He told us, God’s “allowed me to go the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land.”

It is right there. In that passage. The truth about freedom dreams. It is not about your survival or my survival. It is about our survival. It is about us, collectively, together, as a human community, as a community of memory and witness, love and justice, figuring out how to find a way out of no way.

We can only survive together. It is important to remember this when we cry out for a way out of no way. Sometimes we cry out and hear nothing in response. But when our voices are met with silence, we might recall the words of denise levertov:

Lord, not you,
it is I who am absent.

History teaches us that it is always possible to imagine a way out of no way. I might not be able to envision it. You might not be able to visualize it. But the collective we can find it.

This is one of the lessons of Black History Month. Beginning in the holds of those awful freighters, suffering humans began to dream freedom dreams. They imagined that their lives and the world could be different than it was. They imagined no slavery. They imagined freedom for themselves. And that imagination enabled some of them to find it. They found it onboard ships like the Amistad when they rose up and overthrew the slave traders. They found it when they organized and revolted–creating the nation of Haiti and enabling the Union to win the Civil War. And they found it when they ran away.

Carol told the children and youth a story about a maroon. Have any of you heard that word before? Maroon? The maroons were groups of people who escaped slavery and then, using their freedom dreams, built new communities where they could live free. Some of these communities became quite large. They numbered in the thousands and fought against Europeans who wanted to re-enslave.

In Maroon communities people often sought to live and worship as their ancestors did back in Africa. They attempted to recreate ways of life and love that had been disrupted by their forced migration. Some of these communities endured for years. In towns in Jamaica and on the island Barbuda there are communities that were founded by maroons hundreds of years ago and are still governed by their descendants today.

Maroon communities were sometimes multi-racial affairs–places where people imagined a continent organized around interracial cooperation not white supremacy. In such places black people, white people, indigenous people, the polyglot of people who lived in the Americas, came together and imagined and built new kind of communities where they could pursue their dreams of freedom. In such places, people held up and held out ways of being that were antithetical to the white supremacist economic and social order that told them they were less than human. In such places, there were ways of being that suggested it is possible to find more love, more hope, more joy, somewhere.

Freedom dreams, some people dreamed them in the holds of slave ships, some people rebelled, some people ran away and started maroons. Freedom dreams, the TransAtlantic Slave Trade ended with the abolition of slavery. Freedom dreams, the legal regime of Jim Crow was ended. Freedom dreams, black people survived and many thrived.

We are lifting up freedom dreams because this is the last Sunday of Black History Month. It is important to take time to center the experiences and theologies of people of color. It is important for at least two reasons. The first is simple: our congregation is on the cusp of meeting the definition of a multiracial religious communities. The vast majority of religious communities in the United States are racial and ethnic enclaves–where one group comprises 80% or more of participants. So, when a religious community is reaching a point where 20% or more of the people do not belong to a single ethnic or racial group it is considered a multiracial one.

At the beginning of the month, Alma and Tawanna reported our congregational data to the Unitarian Universalist Association. They had to tell the UUA how many members we have, the size of our annual budget, the number of people who attend worship and the like. One of the questions that the UUA asks is the percentage of people of color who are members of the church. And Alma and Tawana came up with at least 17%.

So, we are on the cusp of transitioning to a predominantly white church to one that fits that definition of a multiracial one. And experience teaches me that one way we make that transition is being intentional and inclusive about our theology and our community. It is why we have been using more Spanish in the service. And why I have been very intentional about inviting people of color and women to fill the pulpit when Scott and I are not in the pulpit.

And it is why I take time each year to give a sermon inspired specifically by black theology. I want us to live into the vision of our religious ancestors–the vision that said that God loves everyone, no exceptions, and be a community where all people can feel beloved. This is why next month I will also be offering a sermon on eco-feminist theology and another in the autumn on indigenous and Latinx theology.

Second: we are talking about the Black Radical Imagination this morning because I think it is an essential resource for all us–regardless of our racial identity–to find a way out of no way. I know this from personal experience.

I think that many of you know that I grew up in Michigan in the eighties and nineties. Detroit in those days was a musical hotbed. There was always something amazing something going on. It did not matter if you went to a tiny club, a street party, a county fair, or a big concert venue–there was always some funky music to be found. And if you tuned into your non-commercial radio station–college or public radio–you could catch a flash of audio inspiration.

One of my favorite groups to listen to was Parliament-Funkadelic. Have you ever heard of them? They are headed by the fantastic George Clinton, an incredibly talented musician known for his wild, often multi-color hair, flashy and imaginative costumes. The band itself is a large admixture of vocalists and instrumentalists–drummers, bass players, keyboardists, and horn players.

As the band’s name suggests, Parliament-Funkadelic is a funk band. They create hypnotic, psychedelic, kaleidoscopic soundscapes filled with ingenious Afro-centric fantastic and futuristic lyrics:

Well, all right, starchild
Citizens of the universe, recording angels
We have returned to claim the pyramids
Partying on the mothership

Those lyrics appear on their seminal 1975 album “Mothership Connection.” Earlier in the album listeners are informed that the P-Funk is coming from “Top of the Chocolate Milky Way.”

P-Funk’s words offer a vision, in Robins Kelley’s words, of “modern ancients redefining freedom, imagining a communal future (and present) without exploitation; all-natural, African, barefoot, and funky.”

P-Funk made that vision available for everyone. Sure, it came from their experiences and their tradition as African Americans, but it was available to everyone who wanted to turn their dial to radio “station W-E-F-U-N-K” or attend their concerts.

And let me tell you, a P-Funk concert in Detroit was an amazing affair. George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic brought the whole family on stage in a way that I cannot imagine was possible anywhere else. The stage crafted mothership descended and out came Bootsy Collins with a bass guitar, star shaped sunglasses and fabulous high heels. And then George Clinton was inviting everyone he knew on to the stage. His granddaughter–a starchild of maybe the age of five–was telling everyone, “Make My Funk the P-Funk.” At one concert I went to I think Clinton even invited his accountant on stage. I am not sure my memory is exactly correct, but I do remember an older white man on stage who had no discernable musical talent and was wearing a button-up shirt. Clinton gave him a quick introduction that seemed to suggest the man helped him manage the business of the band.

Such experiences opened the world–opened the imagination to me–in a way that was not otherwise possible. I saw, live and enfleshed, a community that invited everyone to live their own truth, live into own self, a community where people were just free, “free of evil and violence,” in Robin Kelley’s words, “free of toxins and environmental hazards, free of poverty, racism, and sexism… just free.”

These visions are not limited to George Clinton and P-Funk. They are all around us. We can discover them inside ourselves. We can find them in so many voices. They are in music today, just as they were in music from Clinton’s generation. The Grammy Award winning artist Janelle Monae casts her own freedom dreams in songs like “Crazy, Classic, Life.” There she sings:

We don’t need another ruler
All of my friends are kings
I’m not America’s nightmare
I’m the American cool
Just let me live my life

Just let me live my life. As we move to the close of this sermon, I want to invite you to have space to dream your own freedom dreams. What would it mean if we were all able to truly live our own lives? The exercise I am about to offer you comes from Chris Crass, I have invited you to do it before I am inviting you to do it again now because there are precious few spaces in the world where we can come together and imagine a world organized around love and liberation.

I invite you to get comfortable. Close your eyes. Notice your body. Notice how it feels to sit in your pew. Notice how it feels to sit in this sanctuary filled with people inspired by our Unitarian Universalist tradition’s vision of love for humanity. Take a deep breath. Feel the air as it enters your lungs, bringing with it the force of life. As you exhale, feel your body releasing any stress and any negative emotions you have. Feel that negativity drain to the ground. Stay with your breath and focus on it as you inhale and exhale five times. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Now, give yourself permission to think creatively and expansively about: The world you are working to create. What is your vision for a just society? What is your freedom dream? There is so much violence that exists in the world. It exists in the government. It exists in our communities. Sometimes it exists in our homes. If you could imagine all of that shifting, all of that hate and fear disappearing, what would the world be like? If you left your home a week from now and discovered that white supremacy had been dismantled what would your neighborhood be like? If you went to the grocery store and learned that violence against women, sexism, and misogyny had been overcome, how would the world appear? If you went to work a month from now and found, we were no longer in the midst of a climate crisis what would humanity’s relationship to the planet be like? What can you imagine? What would it look like in family or your home? In your neighborhood? How would people relate to each other? How would people relate to resources and to the planet? In this new vision, what is valued, who is valued and how?

Imagine that the world you dream about has come to fruition. Imagine that the honest world, the fair world, has arrived. Imagine that you encounter it today, after you leave this worship service. When you depart from this sanctuary what do you find outside of the door? As you travel down the street what kind of institutions and resources do you discover? What do they look like? What sort of services are there? What values are the economy based on? As you return to your home, what does it look like? What is your neighborhood like? What kind of activities are going on? How are decisions being made? How is conflict dealt with? Can you think about the rest of the city of Houston? What are other neighborhoods like? What about other cities? What is Dallas like? Or other states or countries? What is California like? Or Ethiopia?

When you are ready, bring yourself back to what is happening in our sanctuary. Hold onto your freedom dreams. As you do, I invite you to recall the advice of our poet from this morning, Angelamaría Dávila. She wrote about being:

un animal que habla
para decirle a otro parecido su esperanza.

An animal that speaks
to tell another animal what it hopes for

Today, after you leave this service, I invite you to find someone you do not know already and share with them some part of your freedom dream. By speaking it aloud you may just bring it closer to being. By speaking it aloud you might just strengthen your own resolve to work towards creating it. By imagining together, we might be able to find a way out of no way. It might not be for us. It might be for those who come after us. But it is there, waiting, in our imaginations. It is waiting for us to envision it.

We are going to follow the sermon with a rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In.” It is a wonderful piece rooted in the African American tradition that calls us to remember the possibility that we can dream freedom dreams and move together into a better future—move together like the saints.

That it might be so, I invite the congregation to say Amen.

On February 9, 2020, Aisha Hauser was the guest preacher at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston, Museum District campus. Her sermon was very well received and, with her permission, I have posted the text of it as a guest blog post:

I want to thank Rev. Dr. Colin Bossen for inviting me to return to preach today.

What does it mean to lead with love while centering liberation?

Dr. Cornel West, scholar and public intellectual often says that “Justice is what love looks like in public.”

If we can work toward and create a more just and equitable world, we will be demonstrating how love manifest itself to all.

When I am talking about love in this context today, I don’t mean the flowery words of greeting cards or shallow platitudes of niceness. When I invoke love in this case, I am talking about what Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King referred to as “agape.”

To quote Dr. King:

Agape means understanding, redeeming good will for all people. It is an overflowing love which is purely spontaneous, unmotivated, groundless, and creative. It is not set in motion by any quality or function of its object…Agape is disinterested love. It is a love in which the individual seeks not their own good, but the good of their neighbor. Agape does not begin by discriminating between worthy and unworthy people, or any qualities people possess. It begins by loving others for their sakes. It is an entirely “neighbor-regarding concern for others,

To be clear, Dr. King in this context was preaching nonviolence. Influenced heavily by Mahatma Gandhi and Henry David Thoreau, he hoped to inspire African Americans and their allies in the fight for justice and freedom to hold fast to non-violent protests as a way to dismantle the oppressive systems in place.

I invoke the spirit of “agape love” here in the hopes of offering a framework for how we affirm each other in our speech and how we can center liberation, through our language and ultimately in our actions.

I want to share a story of my own learning process about how powerful turning to love when centering liberation can be.

In 2016, General Assembly, the annual gathering of UUs from across the globe was held in Columbus, Ohio. During the Service of the Living Tradition, the service that celebrates religious professionals entering ministry, ordained clergy, religious educators and musicians are included in this celebration. That year was especially memorable, not only because former President of the UUA Rev. Dr. Bill Sinkford was preaching, but because of an awareness that was lifted during his sermon. A few of the fellowshipped clergy sitting on the stage held up signs saying “OUCH,” every time ableist language was referenced.

When the word “stand” was said, the signs were lifted, if the word, “see” or “hear” was said, the signs were lifted. The organizer of this awareness campaign was the Rev. Theresa Ines Soto.

Rev. Soto is now one of my dearest friends. At the time, we had only met socially, and I found myself wondering why they would be so offended by metaphors. Sure, Rev. Soto has had accessibility issues since they were born. I knew they were a teacher and attorney, surely metaphors were something that could be allowed in a religious setting.

I found myself wanting to defend the use of metaphors and to want to explain to those holding signs that we can’t just give up on beautiful language.

Before I engaged in any of these discussions, I returned home and started reading the ways that ableist language excludes so many.

I started to ask myself, “What is it that I am holding on to by arguing and fighting to continue “saying” what I “want.”

Considering being informed that what I “want” excludes and is painful.

I then thought about the sayings I no longer use because of their origins.

For example, I don’t use the expression, “rule of thumb” because it harkens back to an old English law that allowed a woman to be beaten by her husband as long as the stick was not larger than his thumb. Hence “the rule of thumb.”

Once I learned that history, I simply never used it again. If I learn that my use of the word “stand” to mean affirm was hurtful and exclusionary, why hold on?

I realized that one of the ways I want to show up in the world as a person of faith, is to listen and respond in ways that are loving. I found that love, rooted in liberation, in this case was to learn ways to minimize my use of ableist language. The UU musician and songwriter, Jason Shelton changed the title and lyric of the song “Standing on the Side of Love” to “Answering the Call of Love” I like that even better. We are moved to answer the call of love rooted in liberation for all.

Another way to answer the call of love rooted in liberation, is using the pronouns a person asks you to. Don’t argue about singular or plural, for the record, Webster’s dictionary now recognizes “they” as singular. We do not have any reason not to show respect and love by listening and responding to what is asked of all of us. Studies indicate that using a trans/non binary person’s correct pronoun and name, lowers their rates of suicide and depression. You are engaging in love speech when you listen and affirm, rather than argue about the “correct grammar.”

Now, at this point I’m going to guess that at least one person in this sanctuary is thinking of “politically correct speech.” I want to name that I find the whole notion of “PC” speech as nonsense and even the term is absurd. There is nothing correct about our politics. Our politics are not the place to look for inspiration or ways to treat each other.

What we are talking about is our humanity and the humanity of all those around us who are naming pain.

We continue to work at the great human experiment that is the United States. A place where, I would guess, that every country on earth is represented.

Where we live together in a way that we attempt to form an identity that is both common and yet unique.

In order to accomplish this herculean task, we must be intentional and be willing to decenter our own narrative and our own point of view. This is especially true if your identity is part of the dominant culture.

Unitarian Universalism can be a reflection of the United States culture. I say, can be and not is a reflection, because while we do have ethnic and racial diversity within UUism, the majority of our brick and mortar spaces, remain predominantly Eurocentric.

This is not a good or bad thing; it is simply limiting.

There are those who believe that Unitarian Universalism is not broken and is fine just the way it is. Those voices have named feeling marginalized and silenced as a result of the events of the spring of our enlightenment, in 2017.

The folks that I would say want to make Unitarian Universalism “great again,” decry the “limits” put on their speech. After all, what about the “free and responsible search for truth and meaning.”

Doesn’t that mean we can say whatever we want?

The answer is yes, you can “say” whatever you want. That has always been true.
AND what has always been true is that there are consequences to all kinds of speech.

When engaging in speech claiming to defend the rights of the already powerful and the rights of the dominant culture, the consequences are that oppressive systems are maintained and voices of the marginalized are silenced.

When our speech is unkind and hurtful, we cause harm.

When engaging in speech that centers love rooted in liberation, the consequences can be positive and life affirming.

Because unkind speech gone unchecked- turns into hate full policies and laws, as the history of our country and current events today demonstrate.

The hateful speech and disturbing rhetoric that is rampant on social media and from the current occupant of the White House is having devastating effects on the lives of Black and Brown people. It is hate speech turned into action in the most dehumanizing ways.

As Unitarian Universalists, we are called on to affirm the humanity of every person.

Not only the ones deemed worthy. Who is worthy and who is worth–less and who gets to decide?

In July there were demonstrations all over the nation protesting the inhumane and unconscionable concentration camps that are being maintained FOR PROFIT on our southern border. Thousands of people of all ages, including infants and toddlers, youth, adults of all ages are being held in detention centers for the supposed “crime” of not waiting in some imaginary line.

The fact is that it is not a crime to seek asylum.

However, the speeches and rhetoric that this administration chooses to name is an inaccurate one that deems human beings “illegal.”

Words matter. No human being is illegal.

These centers are overcrowded, and the people in them are being treated worse than any animal is allowed by law to be treated.

What is happening to us and what have we become?

We Unitarian Universalists love our words, and our intellectual discussions. Let’s take a moment to talk about the word, “theology.”

The word “theology” means “the study of the nature of God and religious belief.” For Unitarian Universalists this understanding and study of the “nature of God and our beliefs” are rooted in how we relate to each other and the world around us. As a covenantal faith, we enter into agreements of how we will love, honor and affirm each other and all living beings and our living earth. In my frame of reference and how I understand and live my UU faith, there is no separation between our theology and social justice.

I grew up in a strict Muslim home. One of the mandates that my mother passed on to me is that God will judge us by how we treat the poor. My mother made no secret of her disdain of the Saudi Arabian and United Arab Emirate Governments who, with their vast wealth, have not had a hand in solving the problem of hunger and poverty in the world.

To me, there has never been a separation between theological grounding and social justice. The two go hand in hand.

We are invited to turn to Love Speech rooted in liberation, Agape Love to affirm the humanity of anyone crossing thresholds, “borders” seeking a better, safer life for themselves, for their families for their children. Working for social justice and equity is an integral part of our theological mandate and it is part of turning Love into loving action. It is integral to our understanding the nature of all that is Holy and what is larger than any one of us individually. We cannot know or understand our theology without knowing and understanding that we are mandated to use our privilege to fight for equity and justice.

The Rev. Dr. Colin Bossen, the Interim Senior Minister at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston, wrote a blog chronicling his recent trip to Europe this past July. While there, the news of what is happening here in the United States weighed heavy on him. He posted on July 12th:

In the midst of the global crises, I think that the for challenge someone like me is partly about holding onto my own humanity. In the end, privilege contains within it the possibility of shedding one’s humanity. I believe that there is only one human family and that we are all, ultimately, part of the same earthly community. Privilege is based on separation. The ability to… [step] away from the experiences that most people have. And, well, in a world filled with refugees, economic exploitation, and many other kinds of discrimination and systematic violence, I feel quite privileged–which is to say separate and insulated–here in the South of France.

We do not have to endure the continued chipping away of our humanity.
We have it in us to prioritize and affirm the humanity of those with target identities.
We always have the choice to remain engaged and informed in ways that help us to form coalitions and move in solidarity with those who are working to dismantle oppressive systems.
We always have the choice to center love rooted in liberation.

I will leave you with these words from San Francisco area artist Sandra Bass she declares:

Now is the time to unleash our collective imaginations to till the soil, nourish the seeds of change with our aspirations, and bolster fledgling shoots promising new possibilities with ageless wisdoms, compassion, and courage. Not because we’re certain that our labors will bear a harvest, but because we know that it is only through daily acts of loving and serving with and for each other that we live into our boundless, sacred humanity. Constant gardeners we must be, ever preparing the earth for full and abundant life.

as preached at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston, Museum District campus, February 2, 2020

Today we launch our annual stewardship campaign. It is the season in congregational life when you decide how much money you will pledge to support First Houston in the coming fiscal year. In the Unitarian Universalist tradition, churches are owned and governed by their members. Making an annual financial commitment is an affirmation of membership that signals that you have made a personal, spiritual, and monetary commitment to be part of this congregation, build the beloved community, and uplift Unitarian Universalist values.

The theme of our stewardship campaign is “Loving the Hell Out of the World.” The phrase comes from Joanna Fontaine Crawford. Some of you might know her. She was on First Houston’s ministerial staff for a couple of years in the early part of the last decade. She moved on to serve a congregation in Austin. She drew inspiration for the phrase from the theology of our Universalist religious ancestors.

You might remember that Universalism was founded on a simple theological proposition: God loves people too much to condemn anyone to an eternity of torment in Hell. My friend Mark Morrison-Reed quotes the late Gordon McKeeman to describe this doctrine. He once heard McKeeman “say, ‘Universalism came to be called ‘The Gospel of God’s Success,’ the gospel of the larger hope. Picturesquely spoken, the image was that of the last, unrepentant sinner being dragged screaming and kicking into heaven, unable… to resist the power and love of the Almighty.’”

Mark continues, “What a graphic, prosaic picture—a divine kidnapping. The last sinner being dragged, by his collar I imagined, into heaven. What kind of a God was this? … This was a religion of radical and overpowering love. Universal salvation insists that no matter what we do, God so loves us that she will not, and cannot, consign even a single human individual to eternal damnation. Universal salvation–the reality that we share a common destiny–is the inescapable consequence of Universal love.”

One of the earliest and most important advocates of this doctrine was Hosea Ballou. In the early nineteenth-century, he was a circuit rider who traveled widely spreading the message of God’s universal, unconditional, love. Ballou is reputed to have had a quick wit. There are a number of stories that have been preserved about his encounters with orthodox Christians who rejected the idea that God loved everyone without exception. One such story was collected by Linda Stowell.

It seems that once when Ballou was out circuit riding, he stopped for the night at a New England farmhouse. Over dinner Ballou learned that the family’s son was something of a ne’er-do-well. He rarely helped out with chores or did work on the farm. He stole money from his parents. He spent it late at night carousing at the local tavern. The family was afraid that their son was going to go to Hell.

“Alright,” Ballou told them, “I have a plan. We will find a spot on the road where your son walks home drunk at night. We will build a big bonfire. And when he passes by, we will grab him and throw him into the fire.”

The young man’s parents were aghast. “That’s our son and we love him,” they said to Ballou. Ballou responded, “If you, human and imperfect parents, love your son so much that you would not throw him into the fire, then how can you possibly believe that God, the perfect parent, would do so!”

It is a pretty fun story. It exemplifies the logic of universalist theology. God loves everyone, no exceptions. So, we should love everyone no exceptions. But as I have been thinking about the story I have come to recognize that it is not without its flaws.

It presents Ballou as a sort of lone hero–traipsing about and spreading the gospel of universalism. This portrayal elides a larger truth. Ballou did not spread universalism alone. He was but one of many early preachers who discovered the doctrine, a doctrine that is found in the Christian New Testament and in the theological works of early Christian theologians.

Someone like Ballou read a verse such as “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive,” to mean literally what it said. Ballou and others interpreted this verse from First Corinthians to hinge upon the word “all,” which appears twice. All were condemned to mortality by Adam’s disobedience to the divine in the Garden of Eden. All will be given immortality through Christ. Not some. Not only the believers. Not just the righteous. But all. Every last sinner dragged screaming and kicking into heaven.

Ballou was not the first one to discover universalism in verses like First Corinthians 15:22. Origen of Alexandria was an ancient Christian theologian who lived in North Africa. Almost eighteen hundred years ago he taught that all would eventually be united with God. Taking a slightly different position than Ballou, he wrote “and there is punishment, but not everlasting… For all wicked men, and for daemons, too, punishment has an end.”

Ballou and Origen lived close to two thousand years apart. Their similar theological perspectives suggest one reason why Ballou and other circuit riders like him were so successful in spreading the Gospel of God’s Success. Lots of people believe that God is love and that a loving God does not punish. However, since this belief is held to be heretical by orthodox Christianity many people think that they are alone in their belief. Encountering someone like Ballou in the late eighteenth or early nineteenth century did not convince them of universalism. It gave them permission to profess universalism. It helped them to recognize that they were not isolated in their beliefs.

I suspect Ballou’s circuit riding was a bit like the contemporary phenomenon of discovering people who are Unitarian Universalist without knowing it. Have you had this experience? It is a somewhat common one for Unitarian Universalist ministers. And I think it is a relatively common one for Unitarian Universalist lay folk as well. It runs something like this: You go out to coffee with a relatively new acquaintance. You chat about your friends and your families. Maybe you tell them about the foibles of your cat. Perhaps they share with you gardening tips. At some point, the conversation turns serious. You might not know how you got on the subject but suddenly you are discussing your core beliefs. You tell them you are a Unitarian Universalist. They say, “I have never heard of that.”

You explain. You might tell them that Unitarian Universalism is religious tradition that celebrates the possibility of goodness within each human heart, the transformative power of love, and the clarifying force of reason. You perhaps share that we offer to be a religious home for all wish to join us: welcoming the GLBT community, declaring that love has no borders, proclaiming that black lives matter, toiling to address the climate crisis, and struggling for democracy. It could be that you quote Unitarian Universalist author Laila Ibrahim:

It’s a blessing you were born
It matters what you do with your life.
What you know about god is a piece of the truth.
You do not have to do it alone.

Or perhaps it is that you cite Marta Valetin. She reminds us our world contains the good and the holy when she writes:

The golden present ever reaches for you
and wonders if you’ll come
to unwrap its gifts.

Whatever the case, your friend says to you, “Hey! That’s what I believe. I guess I was a Unitarian Universalist without knowing it.”

Now, what comes next? Do you invite your friend to come with you to First Houston?

I wonder what happened next in Ballou’s story. Did the farm family start a universalist church? Did they gather their friends together and form a small community of people who proclaimed, “God loves everyone, no exceptions?”

We do not know. But what we do know is that belief is not enough. We are called not just to believe in the power of God’s love. We are called to love the Hell out of the world. And if we serious about heeding that calling, we are called to build and sustain institutions like First Houston that empower us in our efforts to love the Hell out of the world. We cannot love the Hell out of the world by ourselves. We need others to do it with us.

I will return to the subject of the importance of building and sustaining institutions like First Houston at the end of the sermon. But, first, let us be honest, there is a lot of Hell in the world right now. For many of us, the current political situation seems bleak. The last several years have witnessed a steady erosion of democratic norms. And, as I have told you before, I fear the country to be sliding towards totalitarianism. Totalitarian states are organized around the personality of a charismatic leader who personifies the state’s power and projects a totalizing view of society. Totalitarian leaders might gloat, as the current President does, of leading a country with “unmatched power, strength, and glory” and boast to their enemies “if conflict comes—we will dominate the battlefield, and we will, win, win, win.” They might propose, as the President has in reference to immigration courts, “we should get rid of judges.”

Rather than respecting the rule of law, totalitarians concentrate power in the head of state–often following the maxim of Nazi jurist Carl Schmitt, “Sovereign is he who decides on the exception.” In efforts to consolidate power, pit the populace against itself, and stoke a climate of fear, totalitarian leaders identify a racial or minority group who are cast as representing an existential threat to the social order. They claim this group must be purged from the body politic for the health of the country.

Such logic has been present in the current administration’s Muslim ban and immigration policies. This past week the federal government extended it to seven new countries as part of the President’s policy of, in his words, creating “a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States.” He has portrayed Muslims as purveyors of terror who threaten the safety of country and who must be excluded to ensure its security.

He has further brutalized this country’s policy towards migrants launching what he has called a “zero tolerance” approach. This has been manifested in a family separation policy that has removed least 5,400 children from their parents–babies, toddlers, and adolescents all torn from their parents’ embracing arms. It has also been manifested in the expansion of what many scholars of totalitarianism have disturbingly named the concentration camps along the border. Concentration camps are not necessarily extermination camps, where people are sent to be killed, they are places where, in the words of philosopher Hannah Arendt, “The human masses sealed off in them are treated as if they no longer existed, as if what happened to them were no longer of interest to anybody.” They are locations where migrants are put out of sight so that their suffering will remain out of mind. And suffer they do, with more than thirty of them dying in governmental custody since the President took office.

At the same time, white supremacist terrorism has dramatically increased and there have been numerous mass shootings. The situation is a stark reminder that in a totalitarian regime no one is ever secure. People who live in a totalitarian society never know when or where violence will erupt. They only know that it is always possible for them to meet a terrible end at the hands of agents of the state, paramilitaries, or, today, supposedly lone actors whose violence is fueled by a shared white supremacist ideology. Arendt describes the phenomenon this way: in a totalitarian regime, “Terror strikes without any preliminary provocation… its victims… objectively innocent… chosen regardless of what they may or may not have done.” In such a society, “nobody… can ever be free of fear.” It is hard to find better words to describe the epidemic of gun violence. In 2018 firearm deaths reached a fifty-year high, costing almost forty thousand lives. Meanwhile, as mosque shootings, synagogue massacres, temple invasions, and other hate crimes have shown, white supremacist violence has reached historic levels.

All of this has formed the background for what can only be described as an assault on democratic norms. Foreign actors have been invited to interfere with federal elections by the President himself. Ample evidence–including accounts by some of his former advisors–exists that he pressured the Ukrainian government to influence the upcoming election by investigating one of his political opponents. This evidence led to the House passing two articles of impeachment. A Senate trial has now taken place–a trial without evidence or witnesses, a trial whose results appear to be foreordained, a trial in which the President’s acquittal seems to be guaranteed.

The situation could be described as one of permanent emergency. This permanent emergency is a struggle over who shall rule. The coming years may well witness the further undermining of liberal democratic norms, the continuing erosion of the Voting Rights Act, an increase in gerrymandering, the appointment of two more reactionary Supreme Court justices, and the complete the normalization of white supremacist anti-human immigration policies. They might even pose an existential threat to humanity in the form of an administration that is committed to a denial of the climate emergency as the brief window to address it closes. The historical moment is evocative of George Orwell, “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.”

The temptation in such a situation is to prepare, as more than one partisan has suggested, to go “all in” on the upcoming election. Now, I do not want dissuade anyone from mobilizing or participating in voter turnout and registration efforts. In fact, in the coming months I will be urging First Houston to participate in the campaign for the 2020 election that the Unitarian Universalist Association has named UU the Vote. But I also want to remind you that “going ‘all in’ is a gambling term” where, as activist Andrew Sernatinger warns, “you either win big or leave with nothing.”

Whatever happens in the upcoming election, and whatever side of the partisan divide you might fall on, we should not leave 2020 with nothing. Whoever wins the presidential contest the forces of love and justice should complete the year stronger than before.

One of the best ways we can do this is to live into the vision of our Universalist religious ancestors and commit ourselves to loving the Hell out of the world. It is to devote ourselves to building a beloved community that offers a foretaste of the world we dream about, a world where all are accepted and love is the organizing principle of the hour. Love has the power to create communities where isolation is vanquished. Love creates empathic bonds and inspires ideals that prove totalitarian narratives false. Loving bonds and loving communities, along with the loving truth that, to cite William Ellery Channing, we are each a “member of the great family of all souls,” are targeted by the totalitarians’ narratives of fears. But never yet, not in all of human history, have they been fully successful in completely breaking the traditions that foster love.

Khia’s moving testimonial of being welcomed by this congregation as a queer woman of color is a testament to the possibility of First Houston to live out a theology of love. Such a theology of love is why I am asking you to participate in this year’s stewardship campaign and support First Houston. As I said at the beginning of my sermon, in the Unitarian Universalist tradition churches are owned and governed by their members. Your financial gifts account for more than 75% of our annual income. This year we are hoping to raise $550,000 in pledges at the Museum District campus–a 10% increase from last year–so that we can continue to grow the congregation and our collective capacity to love the Hell out of the world. Committing to sustain and grow First Houston is one way that you can help ensure that no matter who wins the 2020 Presidential contest, no matter if the country as a whole continues its slide towards totalitarianism, there will continue to be religious communities where we teach that love is more powerful than hate. Where people can dream what historian Robin Kelley calls freedom dreams, visions of “life as possibility” in which exist “endless meadows without boundaries, free of evil and violence, free of toxins and environmental hazards, free of poverty, racism, and sexism… just free.”

Just free… the theme of worship this month is imagination. It is imagination that reminds us that however imprisoned we might feel by the historical moment there is always the possibility of casting a larger vision where we might, in the words of our choral anthem, dream of “[s]oaring and spinning and touching the sky” like the “boy who picked up his feet to fly.”

It is the imagination that helps us envision what our congregation and Unitarian Universalism can become: a place where, in the words of Black Lives of Unitarian Universalism, we can go “when the task feels too great, when life is too much, and it’s all too heavy, we can stop, breathe and lean into each other.”

Imagination is tied to stewardship because it inspire us to envision how we can transform and sustain our religious community across time into a place devoted to loving the Hell out of the world, inspiring collective liberation, and dismantling white supremacy. Where we can come together and constitute here, in the city of Houston, a different sort of vision for the world than the one pedaled by hate mongers and white supremacists, a community where all are loved and welcomed be they migrant, Muslim, transgendered, cis-gendered, white, black, Latinx, indigenous, or any other member of the human family. In such a place we can embody a kind of democracy that inspires the rest of society. Such a vision is not absurd. The Unitarian Universalist theologian James Luther Adams observed our religious ancestors “considered their free church to be a model for a democratic” society. We might foster such an ideal again and love the Hell out of the world.

Is such a vision foolishness or unwarranted? Perhaps the boot that Orwell predicted will soon come grinding down. Perhaps we will prove incapable of imagining our community thus and living as the beloved community. I cannot answer that question. I can only assert that amongst the purposes of religious community is the gifting of hope. And it is my hope that somehow, somewhere, maybe even now, maybe even here, as we consider our annual stewardship drive, a new vision for this country and our world will arise among us. It may grow from the smallest of seeds and in the most unlikely of places: the streets where we mass to protest, the neighborhoods we live in, or in religious communities like ours.

In that spirit, I close with a parable about that old metaphor for the beloved community, for creating a space for loving the Hell out of the world, the Kingdom of God, as attributed to Jesus: “A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered… Other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown. Whoever has ears, let them hear.”

Whoever has ears, let them love the Hell out of the world.

Let the congregation to say Amen.

Imagination is the theme for worship in February. February is Black History Month and the month we kick off First Houston’s annual stewardship drive. Imagination is central to both.

First Houston’s initial founding minister was the Universalist circuit rider Quillen Hamilton Shinn. He inspired the people who started First Houston to create a congregation that preached that God loved everyone without exception. It was a bold vision in the 1890s and it remains a bold one today. It provided the spark that started this congregation, a congregation that has done so much to bring Unitarian Universalism to Houston and Fort Bend County. What might our imaginations and our generosity bring in the future?

It is not an easy question to answer. And it is not a question that we can answer by ourselves. Unitarian Universalist congregations provide us with a space to collectively struggle with the question and imagine how we might best answer it. They are unique places where we can both imagine a different world, encounter the spiritual resources necessary to create one, and then come together to work to build one. And that brings me directly to stewardship.

Stewardship is the act of sustaining the community across the generations. We give money and time–sometimes reframed as our talents and treasure–to First Houston because we know that it gives our lives more spiritual depth and increases our collective capacity to love the Hell out of the world. We give money and time to First Houston because we want to see it continue into the future. We have the congregation because previous generations sustained it so that it might be here for us. Which is to say, they imagined that the congregation would have a future and then they set about creating that future through their generosity.

The theme of our stewardship campaign is “Loving the Hell Out of the World.” The phrase comes from the Rev. Joanna Fontaine Crawford who was inspired by the theology of our Universalist ancestors. In the words of the Rev. Susan Frederick-Gray, “Our Universalists ancestors didn’t believe in hell, except for the ones we create here in this life. What would it mean to show up in the places where hell, where suffering and violence, persecution and inhumanity, prevail and to bring an active, powerful form of love that affirms dignity, liberation, and peace?” What would it mean, in other words, if we devoted ourselves to loving the Hell out of the world?

This brings me to the black radical imagination. Writing about the history of African American social movements, the historian Robin Kelley places what he calls the black radical imagination at the center of Black History. Over the course of last several hundred years, as people of color have resisted white supremacy, the black radical imagination has provided, in Kelley’s words, visions of “spaces where the energies of love and imagination are understood and respected as powerful social forces.” Such visions have been a crucial resource for building communities that are different in character and composition than the predominantly white and capitalist society that sustains white supremacy, is fueling the climate crisis and the global assault on democracy. Such visions are necessary if we are to devote ourselves to the great task of collective liberation.

Visions from the black radical imagination are one of the resources I look to when I attempt to imagine a future in which Hell has been loved out of the world. In Kelley’s words, it offers visions “of new social relationships, new ways of living and interacting, new attitudes toward work and leisure and community.” That is exactly what the world needs now and exactly what First Houston, at its very best, can offer. So, I hope you’ll join us throughout the month as we explore the imagination and begin our stewardship campaign.

Aiding us in our efforts this month are outstanding guest preachers. On February 9th Aisha Hauser will be returning to First Houston to preach “Leading with Love and Liberation.” And on February 16th we will be welcoming the Rev. Duncan Teague. He will be preaching on “‘Houston, We Have a Problem,’ When My Imagination Failed Me.”

During her time with us, Ms. Hauser will be leading two important workshops on February 8th. The morning’s workship will be on microagressions and the afternoon’s will be on bystander training. More information about both can be found on our website. I hope you can join us for both!

Sun Ra is a musician whose interstellar free form jazz invites listeners to imagine a universe where the destructive rules that govern our society have been overturned and hell has been loved out of the world. I offer a few of his words as my closing poem:

Imagination is a Magic carpet
Upon which we may soar
To distant lands and climes
And even go beyond the moon
To any in the sky
If we came from
nowhere here
Why can’t we go somewhere there?

love,

Colin

The Rev. Robert Lloyd Schaibly faithfully served the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston as its senior minister for twenty years. He is remembered by many who knew him as one of the congregation’s most influential ministers. He was the first openly gay minister to serve a congregation in the city that was not affiliated with the Metropolitan Community Church movement. This was not the only reason why the Rev. Schaibly’s ministry was historic. During his two decades in Houston, First Houston became the first sanctuary congregation in the state of Texas. It offered refuge for undocumented migrants fleeing the reigns of right-wing terror sponsored by the United States government in El Salvador and Guatemala. It also started the Houston Area Teen Coalition for Homosexuals, or HATCH, the state of Texas’s first program for GLBTQ youth. It expanded facilities–adding the three-story office and classroom building–and grew its membership to more than 500 members. Throughout this time, First Houston served as a major cultural and spiritual center, hosting numerous speakers and programs and, in the Rev. Schaibly’s words, an “uncountable” number of meetings “on the issue of war and peace and human rights.”

The visit of the anti-war activist and Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh to First Houston was of great significance to the Rev. Schaibly, the congregation, and the city. Nhat Hanh was then, as he is now, one of the world’s great spiritual leaders and primary proponents of Zen Buddhism, a religious tradition that inspired him to work tirelessly for, in his words, “peace in our hearts and on earth.”

The Unitarian Universalist minister and the Zen master developed an enduring relationship. The Rev. Schaibly visited Nhat Hanh’s Zen monastery Plum Village in the South of France several times. In 1988 Rev. Schaibly started the Zen meditation group at First Houston that eventually evolved into the Houston Zen Center.

In 1989, he preached a series of four sermons on his first visit to Plum Village and his developing connection to Zen practice and philosophy. His visit was transformative and he wanted to share what he had discovered with his beloved congregation. The Rev. Schaibly found himself opened to the practice of mindfulness, “waking up to the world,” more present to the basic realities of existence, an “appreciation of what I was eating and drinking.”

Over the course of a month he spoke with the congregation about meditation, impermanence, joy, and wishlessness. I want to focus on one of these for moment: joy. The late 1980s were a time, like today, when, as Rev. Schaibly put it, “you cannot watch the news, read the news, without becoming depressed.” Today we are also holding a memorial service, an event that is necessarily weighted with sadness. A man that many of us loved, a man who served as a religious teacher, an advocate for peace, and an inspiration, is dead.

And yet, and yet, in the face of necessary sadness of the hour, I suspect that if the Rev. Schaibly were with us here he would want us to focus on the joy and beauty of life. He believed that in our lives each of us makes a choice. Do we seek to “enliven… ourselves to all of life or deaden… ourselves to all of life[?]” He urged this congregation, which is to say many of you, to choose to wake up to the world and embrace the joy and beauty that is enmeshed with pain and suffering. Reflecting on the challenges of the late 1980s–which included the AIDS crisis, Iran Contra, CIA fueled civil wars in Central America, the so-called war on drugs, and the hole in the ozone layer–he suggested that Unitarian Universalists and all people of good heart needed to stay grounded. “And what would ground us?,” he asked rhetorically.

“The same sort of thing that grounds a lighting rod–a connection with earth. What would ground you is the reminder that the world is worth saving, that life has loveliness, that joy and beauty are also realities of the world, every bit as much as problems are, every bit as much!” It was only by staying so grounded in the joy and beauty of the world that each of us can, he believed, give to human society and our blue green ball of a planet what is required. “What your world needs from you is a calm joyous presence that is as marginal as possible to the madness of this world,” Rev. Schaibly told this congregation.

I did not know the Rev. Schaibly, or Bob as he would have wanted me to call him, well. We spoke on the phone only twice. Both times after he had lost much of his voice to the throat cancer that prompted his early retirement and ultimately took his life. In each instance, I was impressed by his thoughtfulness, his commitment to First Houston, and his calm joyous presence. After our conversations he sent me small care packages, containing material from his life with the congregation. In one of them he included this note:

Dear Colin:

It was nice meeting you by phone. Forgot to add I had few pieces of debris left from days before T-Storms were Hurricanes, and everyone was downsizing as an updated form of Transcendentalism.

I hope you enjoy First Church Houston…

Enclosed are sociology papers by two Rice students passed onto me “illegally.” What’s important is they present me in a pretty good light!”

Bob Schaibly

I cannot be sure but I suspect that Bob’s note to me captured some essential elements of his ministry with First Houston. Humor was clearly important to him, one of those sociology papers records that the sermon on the day the student visited was “dotted with laughter.” And, reading through many of his sermons I detect a repeated insistence that, as he often said, “Joy is always a possibility to each life and every moment we awaken to joy we set life right.”

Alongside a reminder of the persisting presence of joy, there are at least three other elements present in Bob’s words. First, there is his sense of himself as someone located in time. He mentions “days before” to indicate that he is thinking about the past. This may seem like a trivial observation but we ministers are ever present to the reality that human existence is fleeting and we each inhabit particular moments of time. The span that Bob was allotted has now elapsed and so we are here celebrating him. Just as one day, someplace and somewhere, each of the threads of our own lives will be cut and we will be remembered.

Second, Bob wanted to be well remembered. Like most clergy, he wanted to have an enduring impact on the world. And he wanted to be liked. He appreciated that the papers showed him “in a pretty good light.” He cared about this congregation and its mission and it was important to him that its members have a “good relationship” with its ministers. In all of his sermons he displays an enormous affection of First Houston. He was not afraid to tell members that he loved sharing his life with them. And from all the stories I have heard about Bob since I arrived here I know that those of you who knew him loved sharing your lives with him.

Third, he understood himself as located within the lineage of Unitarian Universalist ministers. The passing reference to Transcendentalism–the most famous variety of Unitarian theology–invokes this. Bob attended Harvard Divinity School, served four Unitarian Universalist congregations as their minister, worked at two others, and grounded himself in our theological tradition. In a sermon on the great nineteenth century Unitarian theologian William Ellery Channing, he offered you words that are similar to what both I and many other ministers have told you from this pulpit, “The purpose of religion is to promote virtuous lives.” And in the congregation’s centennial sermon he preached, “This church has been a place to deal with that conundrum of being human and wishing for humanity to do better.” A sentiment again shared by myself and almost any other Unitarian Universalist minister you might encounter.

Joy, his place in time, the importance of being well remembered, the lineage of Unitarian Universalist ministers, you will note that I have largely left out Bob’s biographical details from this eulogy. You can read his obituary in the Order of Service. But I would be remiss not to highlight or include a few additional elements before I close. Bob shared his life for many years with his beloved husband Steven Storla. Steven shared Bob’s ministry with First Houston in many ways–offering you a loving presence alongside Bob and even preaching on occasion. Steven will be offering some of his own words shortly.

Before he partnered with Steven, Bob was married to Elinor Burke. And while their marriage ended in divorce I think Bob wanted everyone to know that they remained friends throughout their lives.

Finally, as a young man, Bob marched from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama with the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. In Steven’s words, “It changed Bob’s life to see religious institutions witnessing for justice.” It also gifted him with the belief that, in his own words, “the future will find us increasingly liberated.” In his ministry and his time on Earth he sought to help bring about that liberation. A gay man, he thought of the movement for gay liberation as part of the larger effort for collective liberation. A Buddhist and a Unitarian Universalist, he sought to expand the amount of love and joy in the world. And as a human being he hoped that everyone would wake up to the glory of the world around us, a glory that is present with us today, despite the pain we feel in Bob’s death, despite the pain of mortality, despite the conflicts and crises of the hour. That’s why he often told the congregation, quoting Thomas Starr King:

“‘What a year to live in! Worth all the other times ever known in our history or any other!’

May we here feel that same love for life. These may not be the best of times but they are our times and we shall make the best of them.”

I will let Bob’s words provide my closing and say to you, as he did, Amen, Shalom, Blessed be!

as preached at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston, Museum District, January 5, 2020

Happy New Year! I was not supposed to be in the pulpit with you this morning. But plans change, people get sick, and I find myself with you today on the first Sunday of a new year and a new decade. It is good to be with you. It is good to be with even though the news at the opening of this, what will perhaps be the most important decade in human history, is bitter and harsh. It is good to be with you precisely because it is when the news of the world is bitter and harsh that we need religious community the most.

The assassination of Iranian general Qasem Soleimani by a United States military drone strike on sovereign Iraqi soil has pushed the Middle East into crisis. Soleimani was killed alongside Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis, an Iraqi military leader whose political party controls almost fifty seats in the Iraqi Parliament. These illegal acts of war violate both international law and the United States War Powers Act. They may lead to war between the United States and Iran. They have already led to further destabilization of the Middle East. Hundreds of people will almost certainly be killed because of the decision of the President of the United States to authorize Soleimani’s illegal political assassination. Thousands or tens of thousands or possibly even hundreds of thousands of people will die horrible violent deaths if this country goes to war with Iran.

I cannot help but wonder about the timing of the President’s decision to have Soleimani killed. He will soon be on trial in the Senate. The House has passed two articles of impeachment and he could, theoretically, be removed from office. Of course, there is every sign that his allies in the Senate will prevent witnesses from being called or from a serious trial taking place. The Senate Majority Leader even claims that he is coordinating the trial with the White House in order to facilitate a speedy acquittal. The position of the President’s Senatorial allies is clearly concerning. In his year-end report Chief Justice John Roberts, Jr., warned “we have come to take democracy for granted.” Roberts will oversee the trial in the Senate. It appears that the Senate Majority Leader’s position has him worried about his ability “to do our best to maintain the public’s trust that we are faithfully discharging our solemn obligation to equal justice under law.”

Drawing the United States military into a conflict abroad will almost certainly make it more difficult to have an honest debate and trial on the House’s articles of impeachment. There will be calls for national unity. For the many, the President will be transformed from a divisive figure to a unifying head of state. It will be harder to criticize him. War dissenters and pacifists will be castigated for being unpatriotic. There might even be calls to delay the President’s trial. This country’s liberal democracy may move closer to a defining crisis.

Over a hundred years ago, as the United States entered World War I, the writer Randolph Bourne warned that war is the health of the state. He wrote, “The moment war is declared… the mass of the people, through some spiritual alchemy… with the exception of a few malcontents, proceed to allow themselves to be regimented, coerced, deranged in all the environments of their lives, and turned into a solid manufactory of destruction toward whatever other people may have, in the appointed scheme of things, come within the range of the Government’s disapprobation. The citizen throws off his contempt and indifference to Government, identifies himself with its purposes, [and] revives all his military memories and symbols… Patriotism becomes the dominant feeling, and produces immediately that intense and hopeless confusion between the relations which the individual bears and should bear toward the society of which he is a part.” When war is the health of the state it is challenging to be a critic of either the President or the actions he directs the military to take. It is no wonder then that the current President is not the only one to authorize dramatic violent action during the impeachment process. President Clinton did the same thing in December of 1998 when he launched air strikes in Iraq as the House stood poised to impeach him.

Over a hundred years ago the Unitarian minister, pacifist, and first friend in the United States of Mahatma Gandhi, John Haynes Holmes stood before his congregation in New York City and told them, in the idiom of early twentieth-century Unitarianism: “War is an open and utter violation of Christianity. If war is right, then Christianity is wrong, false, a lie. If Christianity is right, then war is wrong, false, a lie…”

Today, I believe that the same thing can be said in twenty-first century words. Unitarian Universalism upholds the inherent worth and dignity of all people. Not some people. Not only citizens and residents of the United States. All people. Speaking only for myself, I can rephrase Holmes words: War with Iran is an open and violation of Unitarian Universalist values. If such a war is right, then Unitarian Universalism is wrong, false, a lie. If Unitarian Universalism is right, then such a war is wrong, false, a lie…”

You may have other views. We affirm the right of conscience and the search for truth as central to our tradition. These are mine and they mean that I will never pray nor preach for victory through arms or pretend that the people of Iran are any less human, any less worthy of my love or the love of the divine, than any of you.

And so, this morning, I find myself gravely concerned for the future of this country and this world. I find myself gravely concerned because not only do the President’s military actions represent a political crisis and a crisis in democracy, they are a distraction from what must be the central focus of the next decade: addressing the climate emergency.

The next ten years or so will determine whether or not humanity chooses to address the climate crisis. What we do now will impact the lives of not only our children and our grandchildren but the lives of those thousands of years from now–if there are humans thousands of years from now. At such a moment in humanity history, I find myself often reflecting upon the words of James Baldwin in the closing passage of his magnificent essay “The Fire Next Time.” Baldwin’s essay was written during the civil rights movement, that historic movement to overturn Jim Crow and defeat white supremacy. He saw that movement for racial justice as something that would determine the future of country–whether it would be a liberal democracy or a white supremacist apartheid state. Baldwin wrote: “And here we are, at the center of the arc, trapped in the gaudiest, most valuable, and most improbable water wheel the world has ever seen. Everything now, we must assume, is in our hands; we have no right to assume otherwise. If we–and now I mean the relatively conscious whites and the relatively conscious blacks who must, like lovers, insist on, or create, the consciousness of the others–do not falter in our duty now, we may be able, handful that we are, to end the racial nightmare, and achieve our country, and change the history of the world. If we do not now dare everything, the fulfillment of that prophecy, re-created from the Bible in song by a slave, is upon: God gave Noah the rainbow sign, No more water, the fire next time!”

We are on the precipice of the fire next time. We are on the precipice because we, as a country, have been unable to overcome white supremacy. The current President is a white supremacist populist and many of his supporters have made it clear that their highest loyalty is to the maintenance of a white supremacist racial order and not liberal democracy.

We are on the precipice of the fire next time. Literally and figuratively, while the world is distracted by the threat of war Australia is literally burning. Figuratively, because the racial conflagration that has raged since Europeans arrived on the shores of this continent is threatening, once again, to consume the country.

The fire next time, in worship we have been focusing on the spiritual and religious tools that are necessary to live through such times of crisis. Today, and for the month of January, we will be focusing on what I believe is one of the most important of these tools: the cultivation of friendships. The philosopher Hannah Arendt observed that the cultivation of friendships was a crucial tool for those who survived the brutalities of totalitarianism. The creation and sustaining of friendship in such times is a sign that “a bit of humanness in a world become inhuman had been achieved.” And in such hours of crises as the ones we now face maintaining our own humanness and recognizing it in others is one of our crucial tasks. It is difficult to kill others whom we recognize as humans. Killing, especially on a mass scale, often requires the abstraction of human being into a categorical other: the human being who is a friend, a lover, a parent, a child, a sibling, or a neighbor becomes the Jew, the migrant, the black person, the indigenous person, the queer person, or the Iranian.

And so, now let us turn to friendship and consider the alchemical power it provides to make us human to each other.

The image of an elderly Emerson, perhaps resting in dusty sunlight on an overstuffed armchair, asking his wife, “What was the name of my best friend?” is moving. It suggests that Thoreau’s name faded long before the feelings his memory evoked. Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau are not exactly the type of people I usually think of when I think of friends. Thoreau, the archetypical non-conformist, sought to live in the woods by Walden Pond to prove his independence. His classic text opens, “I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself… and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.” For Thoreau solitary life was permanent while life amongst his human fellows was but a sojourn, a temporary condition.

Emerson was equally skeptical about the social dimensions of human nature. In his essay “Self-Reliance” he claimed, “Society everywhere is a conspiracy against… every one of its members.” He believed that self-discovery, awakening knowledge of the self, was primarily a task for the individual, not the community. When he was invited to join the utopian experiment Brook Farm, Emerson responded that he was unwilling to give the community ‘the task of my emancipation which I ought to take on myself.’”

Yet both of these men sought out the company of others. Emerson gathered around him a circle of poets, preachers, writers, and intellectuals whose friendships have become legendary. And whose friendships sustained them through the struggle for the abolition of slavery and their work for the liberation of women. That circle contains many of our Unitarian Universalist saints. I speak of the Transcendentalists Emerson and Thoreau, of course, but also the pioneering feminists Margaret Fuller and Elizabeth Peabody, the fiery abolitionist Theodore Parker, and the utopian visionary George Ripely. What we see when look closely at Emerson and Thoreau is not two staunch individualists but rather two men caught in the tension between community and individuality, very conscious that one cannot exist without the other.

Emerson wrote on friendship and in an essay declared, “I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with the roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frostwork, but the solidest thing we know.” Margaret Fuller drowned at sea at the age of forty. Her tragic death prompted Emerson to write, “I have lost my audience.” Emerson thought that Fuller was the one person who understood his philosophy most completely, even if they sometimes violently disagreed. Of her he wrote, “more variously gifted, wise, sportive, eloquent… magnificent, prophetic, reading my life at her will, and puzzling me with riddles…” Of him she wrote, “that from him I first learned what is meant by the inward life… That the mind is its own place was a dead phrase to me till he cast light upon my mind.” Perhaps Fuller’s early death is why Emerson recalled Thoreau, and not her, in the fading moments of his life. But, no matter, a close study of their circle reveals an essential truth: we require others to become ourselves.

The tension between the individual and the community apparent in the writings of our Transcendentalists leads to contradictory statements. Emerson himself placed little stock in consistency, penning words that I sometimes take as my own slogan, “…a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” Let us consider Emerson the friend, rather than Emerson the individualist, this morning. If for no reason than when Emerson was falling into his final solitude he tried to steady himself with the memory of his great friend Thoreau. Emerson himself wrote, “Friendship demands a religious treatment.”

Have you ever had a good friend? A great friend? Can you recall what it felt like to be in that person’s presence? Perhaps your friend is in this sanctuary with you this morning. Maybe you are sitting next to them, aware of the warmth of their body. Maybe they are distant: hacking corn stalks with a machete, sipping coffee in a Paris cafe, caking paint on fresh stretched canvas, or hustling through mazing, cold, Boston streets. I invite you to invoke the presence of your friend. Give yourself to the quiet joy you feel when you are together.

Friendship is an experience of connection. Friends remind us that we are not alone in the universe. We may be alone in the moment, seeking solitude or even isolated in pain, but we are always members of what William Ellery Channing called “the great family of all souls.” If we are wise we learn that lesson through our friends.

Again, Emerson, “We walk alone in the world. Friends such as we desire are dreams and fables.” Such dreams and fables can become real, they can become, “the solidest thing we know.” Seeking such relationships is one of the reasons why people join religious communities like this one.

When I started in the parish ministry it took me awhile to realize this. In my old congregation in Cleveland we had testimonials every Sunday. After the chalice was lit a member would get up and share why they had joined. Their stories were often similar and, for years, I was slightly disappointed with them. The service would start, the flame would rise up and someone would begin, “I come to this congregation because I love the community.”

“That’s it?,” my internal dialogue would run. “You come here because of the community? You don’t come seeking spiritual depth or because of all of the wonderful justice work we do in the world? Can’t you get community someplace else? If all you are looking for is community why don’t you join a book club or find a sewing circle? We are a church! People are supposed to come here for more than just community! Uh! I must be a failure a minister if all that these people get out of this congregation is a sense of community!”

Eventually, I realized that community is an essential part of the religious experience. The philosopher William James may have believed, “Religion… [is] the feelings, acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude,” but he was wrong. Religion is found in the moments of connection when we discover that we are part of something larger than ourselves. Life together, life in community, is a reminder of that reality. People seek out that experience in a congregation because of the isolating nature of modern life. In this country we are more alone than ever before. A few years ago, Newsweek reported that in the previous twenty years the number of people who have no close friends had tripled. Today at least one out of every four people report having no one with whom they feel comfortable discussing an important matter.

Congregations like this one offer the possibility of overcoming such a sense of isolation. When there are crises in the world, or crises in our lives, a religious community like this one can be a place to discover that are not alone in our struggles. We offer a place for people to celebrate life’s passages and make meaning from those passages. Friendship requires a common center to blossom and meaning making, and breaking isolation, is are pretty powerful common centers.

Aristotle understood that friendship was rooted in mutual love. That love was not necessarily the love of the friends for each other. It was love for a common object. This understanding led him to describe three kinds of friendship: those of utility, those of pleasure and those of virtue, which he also called complete friendship. Friendships of utility were the lowest, least valuable kind and friendships of virtue were the highest kind. Erotic friendship fell somewhere in between. Friendships of utility were easily dissolved. As soon as one friend stopped being useful to the other then the friendship dissipated.

It took me until I was in my twenties to really understand the transitory nature of friendships of utility. I spent a handful of years between college and seminary working as a software engineer in Silicon Valley. I worked for about a year at on-line bookstore. When a recession hit there were a round of lay-offs and, as the junior member of my department, I lost my job.

Up until that point I spent a fair amount of social time with several of my colleagues. We would have lunch and go out for drinks after work. I enjoyed the company of one colleague in particular. I made the mistake of thinking that he was really my friend. He had a masters degree in classical literature. Our water cooler conversations sometimes revolved around favorite authors from antiquity, Homer and Sappho. “From his tongue flowed speech sweeter than honey,” said one. “Like a mountain whirlwind / punishing the oak trees, / love shattered my heart,” said the other. Alas, when I lost my job a common love of literature was not enough to sustain our relationship. My colleague was always busy whenever I suggested we get together. Have you ever had a similar experience? Such friends come and go throughout our working lives. Far rarer are what Aristotle calls friendships of virtue. These are the enduring friendships, they help us to become better people. Congregational life provides us with opportunities to build such friendships.

The virtues might be understood as those qualities that we cultivate which are praiseworthy. They are qualities that shape a good and whole life. A partial list of Aristotle’s virtues runs bravery, temperance, generosity, justice, prudence… Friendship offers us the opportunity to practice these virtues and, in doing so, helps us to become better, more religious, people. The virtues require a community in which to practice them. That is one reason why as we have been considering the spiritual and religious tools we need in this era of crisis we have speaking of the virtues in worship.

Let us think about bravery for a moment. The brave, Aristotle believed, stand firm in front of what is frightening not with a foolhardy arrogance but, instead, knowing full well the consequences of their decisions. They face their fears because they know that by doing so they may achieve some greater good.

Seeking a friend is an act of bravery. It always contains within it the possibility of rejection. Emerson observed, “The only reward of virtue is virtue; the only way to have a friend is to be one.” I have often found, when I hoped for friends, that I need to initiate the relationship. I need to start the friendship. I am not naturally the most extroverted and outgoing person. Many days I am most content alone with the company of my books or wandering unescorted along the urban edges–scanning river banks for blue herons and scouring wrinkled aged tree trunks for traces of mushrooms.

But other people contain within them possible universes that I cannot imagine. My human fellows pull me into a better self. And so, I find that I must be brave and initiate friendships, even when I find the act of reaching out uncomfortable or frightening. Rejection is always a possibility. I was rejected by my former colleague. Rejection often makes me question my own self-worth. When it comes I wonder perhaps if I am unworthy of friendship or of love. But by being brave, and trying again, I discover that I am.

Bravery is not the only virtue that we find in friendship. Generosity is there too, for friendship is a giving of the self to another. Through that giving of the self we come to know ourselves a little better. We say, “I value this part of myself enough to want to share it with someone else.”

We could create a list of virtues and then explore how friendship offers an opportunity to practice each of them. Such an exercise, I fear, would soon become tedious. So, instead, let me underscore that our friends provide us with the possibility of becoming better people. This can be true even on a trivial level. A friend visits. I take the opportunity to make a vanilla soufflé, something I have never done before but will certainly do again. We delight in its silky sweet eggy texture. It can also be true on a substantive level. A friend calls and inspires me in my commitment to work toward justice. He reminds me that we can only build the good society together. We can only do it by imaging the possibility of friendship between all the world’s peoples.

How have your friends changed your life? Emerson and Thoreau certainly changed each other’s lives. And I know that the two men, whatever their preferences for individualism, needed each other. I half suspect that Emerson’s tattered memory of his friend, “What was the name of my best friend?” was actually an urgent cry. As Emerson disappeared into the dimming hollows of his mind Thoreau’s light was a signal that could call him back into himself.

I detect a similar urgency in Elizabeth Bishop’s poem to Marianne Moore: “We can sit down and weep; we can go shopping, / or play at a game of constantly being wrong / with a priceless set of vocabularies, / or we can bravely deplore, but please / please come flying.” Whatever was going on in Bishop’s life when she wrote her friend the most pressing matter, the strongest tug of reality, was that she see her friend. Surely it is an act of bravery to admit to such a need. Truly it is an act of generosity to wish to give one’s self so fully.

Let us then, be brave, and seek out friends. Such bravery can be a simple as saying, “Hello, I would like to get to know you.” Let us be generous, then, and give ourselves to our friends, saying, “I have my greatest gift to give you, my self.” Doing so will help us to lead better, more virtuous, lives and may draw us to unexpected places and into unexpected heights. Doing so will help us to recognize the possibility of friendship, the community humanity among, inherent in all peoples. Doing so will equip us to thrive in an era of crisis and remember the promise of our faith tradition: someday, somehow, we will remember that we are all members of the great family of all souls and, so united, we shall overcome war and hatred to build the beloved community.

Let the congregation say Amen.