First Parish Unitarian Universalist"Bring Many Stories"
Sermon by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
January 21, 2001
This sermon is a sequel to the one on November 12th the title of which, "Bring Many Names," was borrowed from a hymn we sang that morning about the many ways to name God. This one, "Bring Many Stories," was originally scheduled for January 7th, when I couldn't help but preach about how we respond to tragedies, in the wake of the multiple murders in Wakefield that had recently occurred.
How serendipitous that this sermon was thus postponed to the Sunday after the Martin Luther King Day service planned by our Social Action Committee, during which three speakers and two song leaders did, just as today's sermon title suggests, "bring many stories." I've heard all about, and in some cases even read the text of, the compelling, emotional stories told about the pain and bitterness caused by the continuing pervasiveness of racial prejudice and racism, and about the empowerment and pride associated with working toward racial justice.
I hope you can bear with me because what I want to do is trace a line from the first sermon in this mini-series exploring the theme of diversity taken up by First parish this year…through the stories told last Sunday…to a call to affirm in our actions the truths embodied in those stories.
By now, it's more than two months since the earlier sermon, so I guess I should briefly re-introduce its main points, as it is unlikely that all of you even heard it or that it was so brilliant that those of you who did hear it remember it well!
In that sermon, I showed how diverse the members of this parish already are, in regard to theological diversity. First, I asked people to stand when I named the religion in which they were raised-UU; Protestant; Catholic; Jewish-reform, conservative, or secular; Muslim, Buddhist etc. or no tradition. As people popped up and sat down, we could readily observe the varied religious backgrounds from which we had come.
Then, I asked people to stand when I named a theological belief they currently held. The popcorn effect was even greater, then, since many people chose more than one belief from the list: Agnosticism. Atheism. Theism. Pantheism. Panentheism. Earth-centered spirituality. Humanism. Transcendentalism. Process Theology. Spiritual Humanism. Plus, None of the Above and I Don't Know.
My purpose in doing so was to then ask, how in the world do we manage to worship together, given how diverse we are in our religious backgrounds and present theological beliefs? I suggested that the answers to this question would suggest ways for us to welcome other kinds of diversity, in addition to theological.
I gave two answers to the question. First, we are able to worship together in all our diversity because we strive to be open to the idea that another person's theological perspective works and is true for them even though it doesn't work or seem true to us. Second, that our sense of community is based on love and service, respect and understanding-the things we promise in the Covenant we recite each Sunday. And not on a common theology or political ideology, or being of the same race, economic status or sexual identity.
It's the first of the answers to which I want to return today, the striving to be open to the truth of another person's theological perspective even when it differs from our own. For example, I said back then, most of us are genuinely open to experiencing the possible meaning in the rituals of various religious traditions.
And, most of us are genuinely open to other people's stories of hurt and disillusionment or whatever it is that prevents them from seeing the possible truths in the religion they grew up in but since rejected, even if it happens to be a religion we continue to find meaningful. Similarly, those of us who feel some anger toward the religion of our childhood, try to work through it, for our own good as well as to protect others here from that anger.
This openness, if it leads to conversation, enables healing on the part of the angry, and greater understanding for all. It also teaches us how to share with some humility the convictions we do have, and to be wary of becoming strident.
Being truly open to the idea that another person's theological perspective works and is true for them even though it doesn't work or seem true to us, should lead us into interested, non-defensive, sympathetic exploration one with another across our theological differences.
Can you see how telling stories is at the heart of appreciating our theological diversity? How else will we know anything about each other's religious upbringing or current religious questions, doubts, beliefs and experiences-if we don't tell our stories?
Can you see how a learned ability to be truly open to another person's theological perspective might prepare our congregation to welcome other kinds of diversity, including racial? That interested, non-defensive, sympathetic two-way exploration across any kind of difference helps to increase self-understanding and bring down any kind of wall-be it a wall of hostility, prejudice, indifference, or just learned reserve…be it between religions, races, classes, political persuasions, sexual identities, or whatever.
But, there are some important differences (in this country, anyway) between telling the stories of our religious identity and telling the stories of our racial identity. Due to the religious freedom we enjoy in this country, even though our religious identities may involve pain and they may involve prejudice, they are not bound up in a persistent system of advantage based on religion, to borrow the language used in the Reading earlier for a definition of racism.
Whereas, whether we are white or a person of color, the stories we might tell about our racial identities are clearly all mixed up in the persistent system of advantage based on race called "racism." That's why it's not enough to just tell and hear the stories. I believe we are called to use the power of the emotions evoked by such stories to sustain us in our efforts to change the conditions in our selves and in our society that condone or promote racism and prejudice.
I'm reminded of what I learned in the very first anti-racism training I participated in, way back in 1972, as a college student. I've never forgotten it. After hearing the painful stories told by the blacks present, considering how whites are hurt by racism and prejudice too, examining examples of institutional racism in school curricula, banking practices, etc. etc, and concluding that despite the Civil Rights Act and other legislation, there was an awful lot of work left to be done…we were presented with a very simple chart. It offered two sets of choices: being passive vs. active, and being racist or anti-racist. "Of course, I'm anti-racist," I thought.
But, there was a catch! The leader showed how, given the pervasiveness of prejudice and the power of racism in our society, you couldn't be anti-racist unless you were actively so, because to be passively anti-racist was to leave racism un-challenged, thus making you a passive racist. So that meant if you wanted to consider yourself anti-racist, you had to be active. For the rest of your life.
I think it's still true.
But, I have been less likely to actively promote racial justice during the six years I have been living in and working in predominantly white communities than in the nearly twenty years prior that I lived and worked in racially mixed communities. I guess it's not surprising. Perhaps some of you will identify with the explanations I've found for my experience.
One is that when I lived and worked in racially-mixed settings, I was periodically confronted with my own prejudiced reactions to various situations. Whether committed only in thought, word or deed, these reactions kept me aware of my own need to educate and change myself.
Another is that in a mixed-setting, I actually got to know and formed relationships (even if superficial) with people of color. When you know and care about someone, you are more likely to not want to see them or their kin hurt.
And, third, sad but true, in a mixed-setting, racial tensions arise from time to time, providing an obvious (albeit tardy) opportunity to respond.
Fourth, our decision to exercise our economic privilege and move to a community with a better school system represented to me a betrayal of my commitment to racial justice. Feeling guilty inhibits action, I've learned.
But, I also have learned that doing something that affirms a vision of racial justice lifts guilt and I've seen it lift bitterness in people of color, too.
What can those of us-most of us here-who are white living in white communities do? If awareness of injustice is the precursor of action toward justice, and if awareness is less likely if you are white living in a predominantly white community, how can we here at First Parish keep our eyes on the prize of racial justice and our feet on the path toward it?
Well, in some part, we rely on stories such as those told last week to touch our hearts, activate our minds and move us to action. I trust that everyone who was here last Sunday was open to the truth of the experiences of those who spoke. Amongst those experiences, from what I've heard and read from last week's service (for those of you who also missed it), were painful stories about raising Black children in this white town and about demeaning experiences of Blacks in the legal profession, and inspiring stories about the civil rights movement, joyous multi-racial situations, and good work by high school principals in Boston. Such stories touch our hearts. May their emotional power move us to act.
As a religious community, we support various kinds of action. One of the most fruitful kinds of action is reflection, for it grounds all other actions.
Individual reflection requires only time. Since there's no end to the lifelong task of getting to know our own stories, it's never too late to meditate on the formation of one's own racial identity. When were you first aware of being whatever you are, racially? How did it happen? What feelings were associated with it? What effect has the passing of time had? What hurts have you suffered, witnessed, caused? What would healing require?
A wonderful opportunity to engage in collective reflection is upcoming in our eight-session Adult Religious Education program "Weaving the Fabric of Diversity." This will be an opportunity to explore beliefs about race, class, sexual orientation, age, and physical abilities that may hold any of us back from embracing diversity. This successful UU curriculum promises to move beyond talk, using case studies, small group activities, light, and often, humorous exercises, and worship. I encourage all of you to consider fitting it into your lives. I believe we will be touched and enriched by the experience.
Another, less time-demanding, opportunity for collective reflection is being offered by the Social Action Committee in the form of Friday Night Dessert Discussions. The first, in early December, focused on Gregory Howard Williams' book "Life on the Color Line: The True Story of a White Boy who Discovered He was Black." At the second, coming up this Friday, January 26th, dessert and discussion will follow the documentary "True Colors," in which a hidden camera follows two men-comparable in age, education, and class-but differing in race. One of the benefits of these Dessert Discussions is that through books and videos we can be hear the stories of many kinds of people with various points of view, without tiring out the few amongst us willing to share their stories publicly. Everyone is welcome-you can come to the second even if you didn't come to the first.
Besides reflection and self-education, there are opportunities for educating others, such as helping to plan our Diversity Weekend in early May, about which I know you heard a good bit last week. You might also consider teaching in our Religious Education program, to bring your racial awareness and commitment to affirming racial justice in action to the youngest among us. I hazard a guess that you will learn from them, as well. Sarah McGill, our Religious Education Director, shared with me her delight last week at in hearing the children tell her about what Martin Luther King. Jr. was all about. You can see their "I Have A Dream" murals displayed in the hallway on the way to Coffee Hour today.
Outside our own congregation, there are other forms of action to take. One is in the form of service, such as in volunteering with the Unitarian Universalist Urban Ministry's programs in Roxbury. They include several after-school programs for children and youth and two shelters for battered women and their families. For many of you, your daily employment is service to others. I honor that!
Another is in the form of advocacy. Those who live in Canton, for example, have an opportunity a week from tomorrow to speak at a public hearing about the qualities to be sought in the hiring of a new Superintendent. Here is a chance to say we want someone who will create an environment in which students and teachers of color will be welcomed and affirmed, and in which multi-cultural appreciation is embedded in all that is taught.
I think, though, that the most important action that affirms our ideal of racial justice is what we do in the normal course of our everyday lives. What that might be for you, only you can say. Each of us has a sphere of influence. These include where we spend our money and to whom we donate when we give some away, our workplaces-their norms and policies, who they serve and how; the jokes and conversation at the hair salon or barber shop; how we judge our favorite television show or the commercials that interrupt it; what we look for in our children's education, who we invite to our homes, and so on.
Whatever our spheres of influence, however minor they may seem to be or however little power we feel we have in them…we are called to use the emotional power evoked by stories such as were told last Sunday…to sustain us in our efforts to change the conditions in our selves and in our society that create and promote racial prejudice and racism.
So may it be! Amen