Well, Hello there.

Halfway through (western) Eastertide seems like a good moment to come back from the dead. Years of grief. Years of questioning who I am.

And then just like that, the UUA finally recognizes that polity and politics have an inextricable relationship, which will only be justice if we choose to make it so.

It has been years since I had any hope that caring about polity in the UUA would be either effective or compassionate. My inquiries for the last decade have meandered farther and farther (further and further?) into our early modern European roots. So much has been recovered about the many protestantisms that flourished in tiny corners of Europe throughout the centuries of Roman Catholic and establishment Protestant oppressions. And there’s new work on the Germanic Aryan (I invented the term “Ariusian”to make clear that this means theology, not racism) empires that continued until much more recently and with much more sophistication than their contemporary competitor historians had admitted.

And yet suddenly, here we are again. Time to get back to being Politywonk. At the 2022 General Assembly I’ll be Starr King’s remote learning co-teacher for the Polity section, with Rev. Dr. Meg Richardson handling on site duties and mentoring me in this new role. She’s an old friend and colleague who has pretty much, along with the Rev. David Carl Olson, extended firm and caring hands to bring me back into my old callings. I am extraordinarily grateful to both of them.

As to my daily life, although I am currently enjoying home leave in Vermont, I usually now live in Cincinnati to provide on site companionship to my healthy but visually impaired mom. We go to lots of concerts. I haven’t had Covid, but was stricken with fierce bronchitis in January and February, and suffered transient intermittent fevers through April. Better now, but being careful.

Prophecy, Pastoring, Polity

June 2019 has almost gone and my wife has been dead seven months. Apparently she will not be coming back, so perhaps I shall interest myself in the goings on of my erstwhile denomination, the  Unitarian Universalist Association.

Over the past several years we have been endeavoring, like so many others of good will, to overcome the structural racism of our polity, our culture, our very identities. Apparently there has been some success because we seem to have hit the blowback stage. Out national conference generated various outbursts of concern from all sides of the debate. I wasn’t there, and I haven’t read any  of the materials, so these thoughts are abstract, and directed at no one in particular.

It has been a struggle to get back into historical and polity inquiry, even leading worship, while my soul still knows so little of itself in this new stage of life. But I ask myself all the time, what has been the truth behind all these years of pronouncing on these scholarly subjects? Is there not an arrogance in presuming I bring a greater logic, or insight, or accumulation of researched information, than others? My consolation used to be that while my offerings were no greater than anyone else’s,  at  least I had the time to formulate them clearly, and enough support, or courage, or foolishness, to attach my name to ideas that might be unpopular. Thus it was as much a duty as a pleasure to hold forth.

But nowadays, I wonder if  some of the debates about polity are not simply proxy arguments be people like me who are uncomfortable expressing vulnerabilities, much less other emotional pains. Unitarians, unlike Universalists, were one of the great cultural leaders of “keeping it all inside.” “Working it out for yourself.” In many ways, we never got over that Puritan stiff-upper-lip. And so, because we must argue about something without expressing either anger at God or fear that we are failing — much less anger that we are in pain and fear that it will get worse — we latch onto something outside ourselves. Were we not, in our day, the judges and bystanders of the Salem witch trials?

It has come as a shock that my little corner of the world, Burlington, Vermont, is a safe place to express complex concerns precisely because we are fairly ethnically homogeneous. We have an abundant state safety net in part because we are under no illusions that it helps people who do not look like us. So from this position of privilege, let me express concern that our denominational image appears currently to be devoid of space for personal expressions that all these cultural adjustments — of which I approve — will nevertheless be causes of discomfort, if not pain. One of the first lessons in pastoral care classes is that successes, positive changes, even sheer good luck, cause stress just as surely as bad stuff does. So yes, as much as I rejoice in the progress we appear to be making, I claim  that right, on behalf of my sibling UUs of privilege, to still have a right to be pastored about the fears, the discomforts, even just the confusion, these changes call up inside me, and presumably others.

Let me wage no proxy war here; my ministerial ties have shriveled almost to nothing, and seldom do I darken the door of my local congregation (although I do still pledge on autopay).  I am simply laying a caution that I am not the only UU who is trying to navigate painful personal circumstances and needs, therefore, a presence of caring and comfort at the heart of my religious identity. Yes, there is plenty of need to “afflict the comfortable” in order for justice to be served. It’s just that not all of us are comfortable in this life, even if — as I would be the first to acknowledge — we are comfortable in our structural social position.

Learning from Success

I don’t say this too often, but it’s a proud day to be a UU. This denomination — I say this as a historian who swims in footnotes — can be proud of its courageous and consistent witness for honesty in sexuality and equality in relationships. And to my many sisters and brothers who can only gaze in envy at those of us who enjoy fully equal relationships, I promise not to say, “We’re done here,” but to give you support and encouragement as you struggle, each in your own lonely outpost, toward this finish line.

But this is only one of the campaigns this denomination has engaged on behalf of honesty in sexuality and love in all relationships, and it behooves us to pause in admiration of the lone Lone Star legislator who stood up — literally — for more than thirteen hours on behalf of a woman’s right to choose, if she deems it necessary, to safely and legally terminate a pregnancy.

How can we bring the lessons of success to this more difficult issue?

1) First, admit it really is more difficult. When a couple choose to marry, they affect no one who doesn’t choose to pay attention. Even their parents — who in most cultures assume it is their right to dictate the lineage and religion of their grandchildren — actually only believe this. It is not a biological fact.

But to terminate a pregnancy is indeed to rob an incipient person of their very life. Yes, it’s true. From those first weird flashes of nausea and encroaching emotional intensity, two bodies are fighting for the same territory, and both of them know it. So while love may be enough of a reason for two people to marry, the decision to terminate a pregnancy is a sad one, a reasoned one, and yes, a source of sadness. If, as is now is for the majority of women making this choice, poverty is what drives the decision, anger, too, is a natural reaction. There is no such thing as “Happy Roe v. Wade Day,” as one insensitive (male) once wrote. And the right to choose is not a joyous step forward for any of us: it’s a last resort in a toolbox of major importance to everyone who uses it.

2) We need to separate the civil and the religious interests in these tough situations. As private citizens, we may strongly support the right to choose an abortion, but as a religion, we need to speak openly about how we expect individuals and families to make these decisions. We need to state that for some people, as impossible as it seems at first, completing an unplanned pregnancy might be the best decision. For women of my generation, this brings up painful memories of clearly imaginary propaganda disseminated to us in the twilight of whatever we call the era that stretched from V-E Day to 22 November 1963. Those films and tv shows of teenage girls tempted to rebel but turned into happy suburban mothers by the smooth progression from adolescent babysitting to parties in well-chosen colleges. How we shuddered. But I know people now for whom all that turned out to be the truth. And I know women who delight in recovering contact with children they gave up for adoption, even as I know women who rejoice in children they raised without spousal support. I know fathers who delight in children they didn’t think they were having. Kudos to all of you. Let the diversity of your stories be our new theological touchstone.

3) But being a religion means more than opening up the airwaves.  Part of the support for legal abortion, especially back when contraceptives were somewhat less reliable or accessible, came from parents with strong alternative visions of young adult achievements. Internships, professional degrees and associations, publications and organizations brought to fulfillment as part of learning how to parent. And we have sacralized NONE of this. We have no blessing for a first apartment, even though signing the first lease is for many young adults a milestone of unparalleled importance. How many couples have, somewhere in the basement or attic, a beat-up couch that someone has schlepped through every housing upgrade as a reminder of that first nest? We have nothing for the first college break when the offspring brings home the guest that everyone hopes — believes — “might be the one.” Nor have we anything for that couple, as they meet each other’s families for the first time. No pastoral care. No liturgical care. They might say something in Joys and Sorrows, right after the rejoicing for fresh snow or sorrow about somebody else’s civil war. Trust me: even the people fighting those civil wars are only trying to set up a system in which their children can bring home aspiring fiancees. When we present these alternatives to parenthood as part of full human and spiritual development, it provides some context, some alternative explanation, for folks who wonder why a woman or couple would want to terminate a pregnancy.

Today’s victory in the Supreme Court began with a combination of public outrage and private outing.  It is said that nowadays everyone knows someone in a happy, healthy same sex committed relationship. Or they love a young person for whom they hope this will be their future.  It is time to remember that the other tough issue is called “Freedom to Choose,” and to firmly shift our public presentation from the “right to an abortion” to “how we help someone figure out whether abortion is right for her right now.”

 

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