"IT'S JUST ANOTHER LEARNING EXPERIENCE"

A Sermon by the Rev. Bruce Clear

Sunday, September 22, 2002

All Souls Unitarian Church

Indianapolis, Indiana

I was once an active member of a wonderful and almost magical world. I was an enthusiastic resident of that world for quite a few years, and participated in most of its activities, and joined in the fun of its many rides and games. It was a world of great imagination and ingenuity, and though I haven't been back to that world for quite some time, I still recall the sense of adventure it provided to those who lived there.

No, I never lived in Disney World, if that's what you're thinking. I am referring to the years I spent in the enchanted land called "Academia World." Like Disney World, though, this place is divided into theme areas. Some people frequented the roller coaster areas known as "Psychology Land" or "Sociology Land." I went there from time to time, but it is not the part of "Academia World" where I lived. Others rode the thrill rides of "Math Land" or "Chemistry Land." I stayed far away from that part of the enchanted world, probably because the rides made me way too dizzy. My area of "Academia World" was known as "Philosophy and Religion Land." It was a fairly safe place to be, even though no one really knew how anything worked. The rides were not as dangerous as they are in other regions of Academia World, probably because most of the rides are entirely imaginary to begin with.

One game we liked to play in "Philosophy and Religion Land" was a word game. I forget what the game was called exactly, but we find very obscure and complicated words and write long papers about them. Many of us had favorite words we enjoyed using. I can think of about a dozen I really liked. One of my top ten favorite words from Academia World is the word "epistemology." I used it a lot back then, I recall. Probably used it almost daily. Since leaving Academia World, though, I probably haven't used the word more than once every two or three years. It's a pity, because the word was a whole lot of fun when I lived in Academia World.

"Epistemology" means simply, the study of how we know things. What is the process by which we gain knowledge? How do we learn? The question is not "what do we know?" but rather, "how do we know?"

In Philosophy and Religion Land, there are some strongly established epistemological schools of thought. For example, there is a group called the "empiricists" who say that everything we know is acquired through our senses. This school, with leaders like John Locke and David Hume, say we are born with a mind that is completely blank, and whatever we encounter with our eyes and ears and other senses gives us information. That is the only way we know things. That is the only way we learn.

There is another school of epistemology that thinks completely differently. Strong disputes, after all, are thrill rides for those who live in Philosophy and Religion Land. Anyway, members of this other school are called "idealists," and they are led by such minds as Plato and Immanuel Kant. The idealists say the human mind comes already packaged with certain ideas and insights; we are born with an innate wisdom. The only way we can make sense out of the world is because we already have concepts which help us shape our experiences. In other words, unlike the empirical school, the idealists allow for human intuition to be an inherent part of the mind and a crucial part of how we come to know about the world.

By now you can probably feel the excitement that permeates the Philosophy and Religion region of the famous Academia World theme park. It's a thrill a minute, believe me. All it takes is one simple word, like "epistemology," and the adventurers take off on a high speed race for truth. There is no stopping along the way, either. Each resident must keep up with all the others or be left behind to wonder why.

During the time I lived in the Philosophy and Religion Land of Academia World, I shifted my thinking frequently on such topics as epistemology. I started siding solidly with the Platonic idealists, and then as if shoved by centrifugal forces, moved swiftly to the side of the empiricists, only to turn another corner and find myself closer, once again, to the idealists. The fun is, well, indescribable. I'm sure you would agree.

The trouble is that once I left Academia Land, I discovered that much of which I found so exciting was a bit artificial. Many of the attractions of Academia World, however real they were in that place, didn't make much sense in other settings outside the park.

For example take that debate I described over the word "epistemology." Does our knowledge about the world come only through our senses - what we see or hear, for example? Or is some knowledge innate, and does natural intuition serve to process what we experience of the world? Does learning come through direct experience of objects in the world, or does our mind give shape to those experiences?

I still believe those questions are interesting. I still believe that at some level those questions are important. But having lived so long outside of Academia World now, I also think such questions sometimes put blinders to the life we live.

The fact is, it seems to me now, that we learn mostly by life experience. All the clichès about it are true: we learn by trial and error, there is a "school of hard knocks," and the most effective learning is learning from mistakes.

There is in fact, a very important kind of learning that is different from the kind of learning that comes from formal education. It is a kind of learning that leads to wisdom, but the wisdom is not so much about knowledge as it is wisdom about life.

Like most people, I have deep respect for those people who exhibit wisdom. It is obvious to me, though, that there exist very different forms of wisdom, each of which is worthy for its own reason. And one form of wisdom should not be confused with another.

There is wisdom, of course, in knowledge - in acquiring information about the world around us. People with this kind of wisdom are to be admired for, if nothing else, the discipline it took to study and learn what they know.

But there is another kind of wisdom that has more to do with what we call "common sense." This is someone who knows instinctively what works and what doesn't. There are people we sometimes refer to as "street-wise," and mean by that that they are not going to be fooled by someone who wishes to manipulate them. "Common sense" wisdom is a practical wisdom. This kind of wisdom is illustrated in a story recorded by Ralph Waldo Emerson in his personal journal.

Though Emerson was well read in philosophy, science, literature, and history, he recorded in his journal that none of them had anything to say about how to push a strong female calf into a barn. In attempting to do this one day, he and his son grabbed different ends of the calf, and pushed and pulled, but the animal wouldn't budge. Over and over they tried until they were exhausted with sweat. An Irish servant girl came by and realized what they were trying to do. With an amused glance, she stuck her finger in the animal's mouth, and the calf, thinking this was time for nursing, followed the girl into the barn. After recalling this story in his journal, Emerson noted: "I like people who can do things!"

And there is still another kind of wisdom, that goes beyond acquisition of knowledge, and goes beyond practical sense. This kind of wisdom has to do with self-knowledge. This is, it seems to me, perhaps the most valuable wisdom of all. People with self-knowledge have insight into their own character, and they know where they fit in the universe itself. This is the wisdom inspired from the famous Socratic admonition to "Know Thyself." It is this kind of wisdom that the poet Walt Whitman seemed to identify in his poem, "Song of the Open Road," when he said this:

Here is the test of Wisdom,

Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,

Wisdom cannot be passed from one having it to another not having it,

Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof...

Something there is in the float of the sight of things

that provokes it out of the soul....

Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,

They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all

under the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

This is the kind of wisdom, more than any other, I think, that leads to a certain strength of character. This is the kind of wisdom which arises from learning from the variety of life's experiences. There is nothing that can happen to us that can fail to provide insights into our own character, or help to develop that character to a higher level. Everything that happens to us, good and bad, painful or pleasant, whether expected or not, can provide lessons for the growth of character.

Everything that happens to us, regardless of how else it affects us, provides opportunity for self-wisdom. Every new person we meet, every new challenge we accept, every time it feels like we stumble or fail at something - all things are potential learning experiences. All learning experiences are food for wisdom and growth of character.

I find this to be reassuring. It seems easier to accept the obstacles we encounter if we know that we can become a better person for having stumbled over them. It is reassuring to know that mistakes we make and troubles we encounter can usually enhance our lives if we use them correctly. Everything in life, no matter how disturbing or discouraging, is just another learning experience, because it can strengthen our self-wisdom, strengthen our character.

Development of strong character is, in fact, central to our own Unitarian Universalist tradition. From time to time I like to resurrect from our history a phrase that was popular among Unitarian leaders 150 years ago. Though the phrase has become lost over the years, the sentiment behind it is as valid as ever.

The phrase of which I speak is called "self-culture." In the first half of the last century, all Unitarians sang the praises of self-culture. Nearly all Unitarian ministers delivered sermons on the subject of "self-culture," and more than one wrote books with that title. It was a code-word for the Unitarian approach to religion, and those who were adversarial toward Unitarianism held up self-culture to great ridicule. In that sense, the term "self-culture" served a role similar to what the word "humanism" serves today.

The phrase "self-culture" had very specific meaning in those days. The meaning has been lost over the generations. To understand what Unitarians meant by the term "self-culture" back then, the word "culture" should be seen differently from its associations today. Today, the term is almost synonymous with "society," or at least the high standards of society, and their _expression through the arts. Though that meaning is related, to understand what was meant then by "self-culture," you would do better to think of plants.

The emphasis on "culture" can be understood better from its derivation from "horticulture," or the cultivation of plants. The emphasis on "self-culture" was simply a suggestion that the human "self" grows through nurture and care -- that the human character and soul requires nourishment and cultivation. Plants don't spring up healthy and vigorous overnight, and neither does human character. In both cases, a long and devoted process of cultivation is required.

For us in the early twenty-first century, this does not sound to be a particularly radical idea. To understand why it was radical then, and why it remains (or should remain) controversial, one needs to put the matter in context.

The Unitarian principle of "self-culture," which became popular in the 1830s and lasted through the remainder of that century, was born in a time of great conservative religious revival. Throughout the land, evangelists were preaching to vast crowds and making an impressive number of converts. There was a burning passion in the revivalists' message, and much of the country was responding. Religious conversions were spreading across the land like a fire spreads in a forest. Religious conversion was of epidemic proportions.

In the feverish religious context in the 1830s, the issue that gave rise to the Unitarian emphasis on "self-culture" was the concept of religious conversion. In the heat of religious revival, it was preached that to become religious one must undergo a conversion process, a fundamental and immediate, almost instantaneous reconstruction of the human character -- to become "saved" in a moment's conviction. The rapid and dramatic transformation of a person's character was seen by many to be the litmus test of religious faith. One could not be of religious character unless and until one's character had undergone this sudden transformation called conversion.

In contrast to this view, Unitarians began to speak of the process of "self-culture," and the gradual cultivation of the soul. The human character, they said, if it has quality, integrity, and maturity, is the product of a long process of cultivation. Just as an abundant garden does not spring up overnight, neither does the human soul reach maturity by sudden conversion. "Self-culture" means the careful cultivation of a person's character. William Ellery Channing, in an 1838 lecture series which he entitled "self-culture," put it this way:

"To cultivate anything, be it a plant, an animal, a mind, is to make it grow. Growth, expansion, is the end. Nothing admits of culture but that which has a principle of life, capable of being expanded. One, therefore who [strives] to unfold all of his [or her] powers and capacities, especially the nobler ones, so as to become a well-proportioned, vigorous, excellent, happy being, practices self-culture."

The means of self-culture are varied. Education, whether formal or self-taught, is a crucial part of the process. Beyond that, though, education comes through experience, broad life-experience that produces common-sense wisdom. Holding one's mind open to new truth is also essential. Single-mindedness and narrow-mindedness will stunt the growth of any soul. When one is fertilizing the growth of a self, it is best to have the widest possible range of reading material, the widest possible variety of experience, the greatest diversity of encounter with ideas, and a profound openness to emotional experience. The growth of a self, like the growth of most plants, is stunted if it is constantly covered and separated from the natural environment around it.

In the cultivation of character, every experience, however painful or pleasant, is just a "learning" experience on the path to wisdom.

Perhaps the most thorough study of this notion was made a few years ago by Daniel Walker Howe in a book entitled The Unitarian Conscience: Harvard Moral Philosophy 1805-1861. In that book Howe described this view of self-culture as "the doctrine of salvation through gradual growth." He quotes Channing as saying that, "A religious character is an acquisition, and implies a change."

"... Unitarians did not believe that [people are] innately good; they believed we are born morally neutral, neither good nor bad. Virtue is within our grasp but it is still something which we have to achieve. 'We are not born with a character, good or bad, but only with the capacity to form one' the Harvard moralist pointed out, and since our destiny is not predetermined, the character needs conscious cultivation."

The lesson of this kind of thinking is to look upon any event and any experience as something with potential to benefit us. Furthermore, we can welcome the unexpected changes we encounter because they provide just one more opportunity for learning, for self-wisdom. Emerson once observed that, "Life is a series of surprises, and would not be worth taking or keeping if it were not."

In closing, I will return to Whitman's "Song of the Open Road," which ends with these lines:

Forever alive, forever forward,

Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,

Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,

They go! They go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,

But I know that they go toward the best -- toward something great.

Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth!

You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house,

though you built it, or though it has been built for you.

Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!

It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it....

Allons! the road is before us!

It is safe -- I have tried it -- my own feet have tried it well -- be not detain'd.

We should feel fortunate if the surprises never cease. We should feel privileged when we find something new crossing the path of the journey. And, I am, and feel We should be proud that a search for truth is a part of our religious, and therefore, educational, path.

READING by Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Experience"

Life is not intellectual or critical, but sturdy. Its chief good is for people who can enjoy what they find, without questions.... To fill the hour, - that is happiness! ...To finish the moment, to find the journey's end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. Since our (life) is made of moments, let us (care for) them. Five minutes of today are worth as much to me as five minutes in the next millennium. Let us be poised, and wise, and our own, today. Let us treat men and women well; treat them as if they were real; perhaps they are....

Every day is a sound and solid good.... I should relish every hour and what it brought me, the potlluck of the day, as heartily as the oldest gossip in the bar-room. I am thankful for small mercies. I compared notes with one of my friends who expects everything of the universe and is disappointed when anything is less than the best, and I found that I begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing, and am always full of thanks for moderate goods.

In the morning I awake and find the old world, wife, babes, and mother, Concord and Boston, the dear old spiritual world and even the dear old devil not far off. If we will take the good we find, asking no questions, we shall have heaping measures. The great gifts are not got by analysis. Everything good is on the highway. The middle region of our being is the temperate zone. We may climb into the thin and cold realm of pure geometry and lifeless science, or sink into (the realm of) sensation. Between these two extremes is the equator of life, of thought, of spirit, of poetry - a narrow belt.... In popular experience, everything good is on the highway.