How British Unitarianism Compares to American Unitarian Universalism (Guest Blog Post)

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My friend and former seminary classmate, Bob Janis-Dillion, Partnership Minister of the Merseyside Unitarian Ministerial Partnership in Northwest England, serving congregations in Warrington, Bryn, and Chester. He recently attended the annual meeting of the General Assembly of Unitarian and Free Christian Churches. I asked about to reflect upon how the British Unitarians’ annual meeting compares to the Unitarian Universalist Association’s General Assembly. He was generous enough to put together this guest blog post:

Colin asked me if I might compare and contrast the UK Unitarian General Assembly and the UUA General Assembly in the US, as one of a number of people who has attended both. It’s a good question, and I’m happy to do so, with apologies to all my non-Unitarian/UU friends for who this will surely be boring shop talk. To spice it up, you might try randomly substituting words like “Donald Trump”, “The X Factor” and “enthusiastic bouts of uninterrupted joy” for words like “lead workshop” “Executive Committee” and “plenary”. But I’m not sure even that will work.

So the short answer is that the two General Assemblies are pretty similar. It’s the same mix of earnestness, ideas, grumbling, wondering, and coffee. It features the same rather disheartening revelation that you haven’t been outside in about three days, and the same thrill of seeing old friends that you only see…well, to be honest a few of them you see quite a bit, but it’s always a pleasure. The structure of the week is much the same: a banner parade and opening celebration, assorted worships and workshops, hours and hours of plenary-palooza, and mostly mingling. The ministry day before the main conference was almost identical in form to its American counterpart. Also, as someone remarked to me, it’s roughly the same cast of characters at both General Assemblies. Once you’ve been there a while, you pretty much know what the person walking up to the yes-, no-, or non-sequitor microphones is going to say.

Differences? Well, there is the fairly obvious difference in size, as the English version boasts hundreds, rather than thousands, of attenders. UK Unitarianism is small enough that many are audibly wondering whether – and how long – it will survive. So from this dicey predicament, there’s a tendency to look at the UUA as a bastion of strength and organisational power. Which feels rather odd, after attending so many UUA General Assemblies where people voice their own concerns about the future of the movement. I get a lot of, “your congregations out there in the US are quite large, aren’t they?” and those sorts of invitations to boasting (note to Americans: you’re supposed to politely demur at this stage, of course, but if you want to have fun go ahead and say, “you bet they are, they’re huuuuuge.”) There are advantages to the small size: you get to know everyone fairly quickly, and conversely you get known fairly quickly. Unlike the US, there are relatively few complaints about someone being “left aside by the powers that be” because pretty much everyone gets chosen for leadership sooner or later – in fact, it’s hard to avoid getting signed up for some role or another. It’s close to the feel of a UU District, in that regard. The GA is small enough that everyone eats together in the same room for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dinner, by the way, is three courses and lasts well over an hour. This whole American concept of scarfing down your food in five minutes, then rushing off to answer a few emails? Not so much. England is much more European in that regard. I hear the yearly Greek Unitarian General Assembly is just one four-days-long meal. And yes, I just made that up, and no, I don’t mind being a founding member of the Greek Unitarian General Assembly on that basis.

Before I crossed the pond, I was warned that the Unitarian GA could be a bit doom and gloom, and yet also lacking in solutions. But I’ve found there has been quite a bit of energy and enthusiasm, both this year and last. There are a lot of amazing people in this movement. Some have been Unitarian for seventy or eighty years and are not only open to new ideas, they’re actively empowering others to lead them. Stalwarts and renegades share a pint at the bar, and decide that the future of the world is what’s really important. Amongst my beloved colleagues in the ministry (for whom I pledge my admiration for their support, continued inspiration, rather bizarre career choice), there is a good crop of some really talented folks who have qualified in the last few years. I really do feel providence’s hand that I get to be here at such a time, and consider myself much luckier than I deserve.

Other random observations: the British, supposedly so reserved, will get up and dance in the middle of a worship service, if prompted (and it was a big group, so they can’t have ALL been the Welsh). There also is a relatively light-hearted streak; it’s the first time I’ve heard someone boo one of the hymns (we hadn’t sung it well, to be fair). The conversations around God-language, our Christian heritage and identity, and our theological core are very familiar from a UU standpoint, yet also made very different by a very different history and context – give me a year or two, and maybe I’ll try to delve into this further. Finally, the Brits drink slightly more tea, and slightly less coffee. I’m not sure how important this one is, but the Department of Transatlantic Tropes would surely haul me in for questioning if I didn’t mention it.

Unitarian Universalist Sermon Awards

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Other the last couple of years I have fallen into the habit of submitting some of my sermons to award competitions. I have had pretty good luck. I have won the Dana McLean Greeley, Skinner, and Universalist Heritage awards. Unfortunately, both the UUA and the UUMA’s list of awards appear to be incomplete. So, both for my own reference and the benefit of others I thought I would put one together. Here’s what I’ve managed to gather:

Albert Schweitzer Sermon Award

Established by: UUs for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (now Unitarian Universalist Animal Ministry). An annual competition for the sermon that best exemplifies Schweitzer’s principle of “reverence for life.” Deadline: April 1 Prize: Unknown [Note: UUAM does not list the contest on their web site so it unclear whether this contest is still held.] 

Dale Arnink Preaching Award
The sermon must have been delivered before a Unitarian Universalist congregation
between March 1, 2015 and January 31, 2016. The sermon should explore and promote understanding and application of Humanist teachings in Unitarian Universalism. All Unitarian Universalist professional religious leaders, as well as those studying for professional leadership, are eligible to be considered for this award. Deadline: April 16, 2016 Prize: $300

Dana McLean Greeley Annual Address
Established by: Unitarian Universalist United Nations Office. An annual competition for the outstanding sermon or address on developing a peaceful and just world. Deadline: Feb 1 Prize: $500 This year’s theme is International Criminal Justice: From Punitive to Restorative. 

UUs for Justice in the Middle East Sermon Contest Deadline: April 30 Prize: $500 [Note: Last award was given in 2013; in 2014 they didn’t select a winner; it appears to be defunct as of 2015] 

Interweave Continental
Established by: Interweave Continental. Each year, Interweave Continental recognizes the best sermon addressing LGBTQ issues that was preached to a Unitarian Universalist congregation or preached in a seminary setting during the previous year (April 1 through March 31). Deadline: April 30 Prize: $250 

Jerry Davidoff Sermon Award
Established by: The Unitarian Universalists for Jewish Awareness (UUJA) Unitarian Universalism and Judaism both have deep traditions of justice seeking as spiritual practice. As congregations throughout our association engage in advocacy and witness around immigration reform and other pressing issues of the day, what contributions might the Jewish voice in our living tradition make to our shared efforts? What resources and lessons can the Jewish experience bring to our quest for beloved community?


The award is named in honor of the late Jerry Davidoff, an early member of this group, who was instrumental in helping lift up the the often overlooked Jewish presence in our religious movement. UUJA offers resources to those interested in Jewish issues, celebrations and heritage, either personally or on behalf of congregations. Deadline: April 1 Prize: $500 [Note: The last year that the UUJA lists a winner for this award is 2012 so it is unclear if it is still given.]

Promise the Children
Established by: Promise the Children announces a new and unique sermon-story contest. Three prizes will be awarded this year at General Assembly. One for a sermon given by an adult; the second for a sermon or portion of a sermon given by a youth or young adult under age 21; and the third for a children’s story or children’s sermon given during a Sunday service or children’s worship. Deadline: May 20 Prize: Unknown [Note the organization’s web site has no information about the award]

Social Witness Sermon Award
Established by: Commission on Social Witness and the UUMA. The current Congregational Study/Action Issues are “Reproductive Justice: Expanding Our Social Justice Calling” and “Escalating Inequality.” Either topic is eligible. Deadline: March 1 Prize: $500 

Stewardship Sermon Award
Established by: UUA Annual Program Fund, the UUMA & LREDA. An annual competition for the sermon judged most effective in exploring and promoting financial support of our Unitarian Universalist faith. Deadline: Feb 15 Prize: $500 

The Skinner Sermon Award
An annual competition for the sermon best expressing Unitarian Universalism’s social principles. Deadline: March 1 Prize: $500 

Universalist Heritage Sermon Award
Established by: Universalist Heritage Society. To encourage deeper study of Universalist history and spirituality and the sharing of the Good News of this faith with ever wider audiences, we joyfully announce this award program. Deadline: April 1 Prize: $500 

Offering ask for the Fund for the Living Tradition at the Installation of the Rev. Sarah Stewart

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We have reached that part of the service where I get to ask to give money. But before I invite you to reach deeply into your pockets to give as generously as you can to the Living Tradition Fund I would like to ask you a question. How many of you have heard of the Powell Memo?

Well, it is probably good that none of you are going to take the final exam I will be giving later this month. Don’t worry. I hadn’t heard of the memo either until a few months ago. It is actually a fairly obscure document. But that does not lessen its importance. You see, the Powell Memo was a letter that future US Supreme Justice Louis Powell, Jr. penned to his friend Eugene Syndor in 1971. Syndor was one of the leaders of the United States Chamber of Commerce. In his text Powell laid out a political agenda for conservatives. Like many others of his social class he was concerned with the rise of the New Left. He wanted to make sure that the American capitalism remained as unrestrained as possible.

Now, I am not going to walk you through all of the points in Powell’s memo. Thankfully this is not a history class. But I do want to share with you Powell’s major argument. Powell told Syndor that if the Right wanted to firmly wrest control of the United States from liberals and leftists there was one important thing that needed to be done. Businessmen like Syndor could fund independent political organizations to influence public policy, provide a permanent non-party base for mobilization, and seize control of the nation’s educational system. Historians will tell you that the rise of the complex of right-wing think tanks and lobbying organizations that have profoundly influenced American society partially dates from the Powell memo.

We Unitarian Universalists have aspirations to influence the moral direction of this country. Many of us want to see racial justice, a strong environmental movement, and true gender equity. If we really want any of these things I suggest that we need to take a page from the Powell memo and invest in the creation of strong institutions that promote our values. Giving to the Living Tradition Fund is one way you can support such an institution. That institution is the clergy. Unitarian Universalist clergy have been an important prophetic voice in this country for generations. For many, the Living Tradition Fund provides needed financial security. It helps us pay for seminary, retire student debt, and, when necessary, aid in emergencies. All of these things make ministry possibly. An offering will now to taken for the Living Tradition Fund. I know that you will give generously.

On the Silence of the Pulpit

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It is a pleasure to be with you today to celebrate the installation of the Rev. Sarah Stewart as your twelfth senior minister. I have known Sarah for more than two decades. We became friends in high school when we were both members of Young Religious Unitarian Universalists in Michigan. I doubt you could have selected a more conscientious, intelligent, and compassionate person to lead your congregation. So, I congratulate you on your wisdom. I thank Sarah for the honor of preaching to her congregation the Sunday morning of her installation.

It is unfortunate that this joyous Sunday is marred by the week’s unhappy events. The death of Freddie Gray and the resulting riots in Baltimore mean that today, across the United States, sermons will wrestle with the same issue. In Worcester, in Boston, in New York, in Detroit, in Chicago, in Atlanta, in Los Angeles, in Washington, DC, and, yes, in Baltimore, ministers will be talking with their congregations about race and racism, white supremacy, demonstrations, riots, and police violence. There will be sermons on the legacy of slavery, Jim Crow, and the civil rights movements. There will be sermons on the necessity of action, challenging us on seizing the urgent moment. There will be sermons calling for healing, reminding us that whatever the color of our skin we are all living members “of the great family of all souls.”

Most of these sermons will have same general features. They will begin by declaring the death of Freddie Gray a horrid tragedy. They will make some observations about the protests in Baltimore and link those protests to the events in Ferguson. They may mention Michael Brown, Eric Garner, or Tamar Rice. They might celebrate Marilyn Mosby’s decision to charge the police officers involved with Gray’s death. They might describe the national epidemic of police violence; 393 people have been killed by police since the start of year. Perhaps they will refer to the vast disparity between white and black wealth. The average white family has twenty times the assets of the average black family. The unemployment and poverty rates for African Americans are twice those of whites. Maybe they will admit to the racist nature of our criminal justice system. African Americans are incarcerated at six times the rates of whites.

The majority of these sermons, I suspect, will invoke Martin King. The moderate preachers may quote from safe texts like his famous “I Have a Dream,” “Let us not wallow in the valley of despair… my friends.” A bolder few, perhaps, will cite his sermon at the National Cathedral. They will deplore, “We must face the sad fact that at eleven o’clock on Sunday morning… we stand in the most segregated hour of America.” The bravest clergy might invoke his speech “The Other America” to observe, “a riot is the language of the unheard.” They could quote him to assign blame for the nation’s racial problems, “riots are caused by nice, gentle, timid white moderates who are more concerned about order than justice.”

I imagine that whatever quote from King the preacher picks the vast majority of the morning’s services will end on a note of hope. Maybe the minister will decide to offer a prayer for racial reconciliation. Maybe the congregation will join their voices together in “We Shall Overcome.” Maybe the benediction will summon James Baldwin and finish with the encouraging admonition, “Everything now, we must assume, is in our hands; we have no right to assume otherwise.”

Taken together these sermons come close to a national conversation on race. In this hour, for a few minutes, the reigning white silence is being broken. White clergy like me are preaching about white America’s close to four hundred history of terrorizing, torturing, enslaving, killing, and imprisoning black and brown people. This morning’s rupture in the silence cannot be temporary if we are to have any hope of every transcending our troubled history. The shattering of silence must be permanent. The great poet Audre Lorde challenged people to transform the silence that surrounds suffering into language and action. That is what we must do. White people need to learn to speak about race and white supremacy with the same frequency that brown and black people are violated by institutionalized racism. Pulpits like this one cannot succumb to white silence on those Sundays when racialized police violence is not in the headlines.

Breaking the enduring white silence requires clergy who are willing to preach about racism. More importantly, it requires congregations who are willing to listen to sermons that make them uncomfortable. Often pulpits remain in white silence because ministers are afraid of upsetting their congregants. Preaching is a privilege and a vocation. It is also a job. I am a sometime parish minister. I can attest that many congregants link their support of their church to their satisfaction with the minister’s preaching. I know that too many unsettling sermons can cause some members pledging to go down.

We Unitarian Universalists like to uplift our social justice legacy. But I wonder how willing we really are to engage with the difficult work of transforming white silence into language and action. As an itinerant preacher I visit a lot of congregations. When I visit the settled minister of the congregations often asks me to preach about racial justice. What follows, unfortunately, is a scenario that has become familiar.

The scenario runs something like this. I deliver a sermon about how religious liberals should respond to this country’s racist legacy. I use the word murder to describe the killings of black men like Freddie Gray, Amadou Diallo, and Trayvon Martin.

After the service, during coffee hour, a member of the congregation comes up to me and tells me that he was offended by my sermon. The member usually fits the same profile. He is a straight white male over the age of seventy. He tells me that I was wrong to use the word murder to describe the violent deaths of black men and boys like John Crawford III and Sean Bell at the hands of the police.

His complaint appears in the form of a question, “Did you sit on the trial jury? Where you part of the grand jury? Do you work for the FBI?” This question is followed by a statement, “Because you are talking like you have some access to knowledge that the rest of us do not. It is the grand jury who decides if the police officers that killed Clinton Allen should be indicted for murder. It is the federal government who determines if the policemen who killed Dante Parker violated his civil rights. Your rhetoric is dangerous, incendiary and unfair.”

Perhaps that is true. I don’t know what those juries know. What I do know is that in this country white police officers kill black men at the rate of two, three, or four a week. I know that the rate of police killings of African Americans now exceeds the rate of lynchings in the first decades of the twentieth century. I know that the decision of a state’s attorney like Marilyn Mosby to charge police officers with murder is rare. I know that the conviction of police officers is even more rare. I know that in order for this to change white silence has to be transformed into language and action. All of the silence in the world will not offer protection from the institutionalized structures of racism. It is only by speaking, and speaking often, that we can begin to dismantle them.

A call to transform the enduring white silence is essentially a call to conversion. Unitarian Universalist theologian James Luther Adams defines conversion as a “fundamental change of heart and will.” Conversion brings about a change in perspective, a shift in a point of view. If you are white and relatively privileged try seeing the society from a black or brown point of view. Imagine that you are Freddie Gray. Imagine that you are arrested, handcuffed and placed face down on the sidewalk. No one answers your request for an inhaler. You are put, head first, into a police van. The cops do not strap you in. They lay you on the floor. The van starts to move. It rattles about. It comes to a stop. You suffer a severe neck injury. You tell the police you need medical attention. They ignore you. By the time you arrive at the police station you are no longer breathing. A week later you are dead.

Such an act of imagination can be unsettling, even slightly traumatizing. It requires that we admit that ignorance of the racialized nature of our society is kind of privilege. We who are white can insulate ourselves from the reality that surrounds us. We can choose to be ignorant of the white supremacist nature of our society. We can surround ourselves with people who look like us. We can pretend the vast disparities of wealth between whites and people of color are accidental, not intentional.

Paul, or someone writing as Paul, reminded us in Ephesians that there is a price to be paid for such willful ignorance, “Their minds are closed, they are alienated from the life that is in God, because ignorance prevails among them and their hearts have grown hard as stone.” The author of this passage had in mind knowledge of God when he wrote it. I invoke it to suggest that choosing deliberate blindness and closing our eyes to the racist nature of our society will harden our hearts.

Softening our hearts requires that our pulpits are not silent on racial issues. Softening our hearts means that white Unitarian Universalists continue to talk about race next Sunday, next month, next year, and until we have finally overcome the racist legacy of the United States. It means that we have welcome words that trouble us. It means that we have to imagine our religious communities as sites for conversion.

Many of people come to Unitarian Universalist congregations seeking some kind of personal transformation. Breaking white silence means that we learn to link our personal transformation to our process of social transformation. To quote David Carl Olson, the minister of the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore, it means understanding, “my liberation is bound up with yours.” Religious communities are uniquely positioned to teach us this lesson. What other institution in our society can prompt us to both examine our hearts–to ask us how we are seeing the world–and to challenge us to stand together to do something about the pain that we find there when we do?

I am practical person. And so, before I close I want to offer you a few simple suggestions that might prompt you on your way to conversion and becoming more comfortable with breaking white silence. Maybe you already do these things. If you do, keep doing them. If not, consider starting.

For a conversion to happen, you have to expand your perspective. And that means getting to know people who have different perspectives than you do. The Washington Post reports that three quarters of European Americans have no African American friends. Zero. None. Now, I admit that making friends is difficult. Most people I know tend to fall into friendships, they meet people through work, in their neighborhood, or at their church. If you are white and you work at a predominately white workplace, live in a largely white neighborhood and go to a mostly white church then chances are most of your friends will be white.

My suggestion? Get out a more. Nurture an interest in cultures other than your own. Read books by African American authors. Start listening to hip hop, jazz, afro pop… Attend cultural events in African American neighborhoods. Visit a black church.

In addition, to expanding your perspective you have to ask questions and you have to commit to actions. You have to transform your previous silence into language and action. Ask yourself why you are comfortable or uncomfortable in certain situations and with certain people. Ask yourself how and why you benefit from our current social system. Ask yourself who the criminal justice system works for. Ask yourself why police officers so often get away with murder. And as you ask yourself questions think about how you can act. What can you do as a congregation? How can you support your minister to break white silence? How can you mobilize your resources to transform the racist, white supremacist, criminal justice system? Can you urge your lawmakers to spend money on schools rather than prisons? Can you imagine a world without prisons?

If we are to accomplish anything, if we are to truly end white silence, it will require action as a religious community. It will mean that congregants come to expect their ministers to speak about race not only when there has been a riot, or on Martin Luther King, Jr. Sunday, or during black history month, but often. It will mean recognizing that the time for conversion, the time for a change of heart, is now. It is time to say not one more. Not one more unarmed black child shot and killed by a police office while playing on a playground. Not one more unarmed black man shot and killed while shopping in a grocery store. Not one more unarmed black man suffocated in the back of a police van.

May words like things ring across the land. May pulpits stand silent in the face of racial injustice no more. May we say not one more, not one more, not one more, until we truly transform silence into language and action.

Amen and Blessed Be.