"YESTERDAY'S VOICES"

A Sermon by the Rev. Bruce Clear

Sunday, November 17, 2002

All Souls Unitarian Church

Indianapolis, Indiana

This is the first in a series of sermons honoring the 2003 centennial celebration of our church. What you hear this morning comes from a similar sermon I gave quite a few years ago. The occasion of our centennial, I think, makes it worth revisiting.

This morning we remember the story of All Souls Unitarian Church through the words of its ministers who have passed. This is not so much a history of our church, though, as it is a review of its message through the years. By looking at a few selected words of its ministers, it is my intent to illustrate the continuity of values.

Much has changed in and about All Souls since its founding in 1903. The building is different, of course, and the location. The issues and concerns addressed from this pulpit change, too. You will probably not hear a sermon today on Sunday blue laws, or why the government should allow baseball to be played on Sundays. You will not hear a sermon addressing the effects of Senator Joe McCarthy's crusade. These are all subjects that were addressed over the years, though many issues have changed over the century. The issue of whether basic institutions in society, such as housing, schools, and even churches, should be open to all races is so universally accepted today that to raise it from this pulpit would seem strange, even though it had to be addressed often in past decades.

And there are topics talked about today that were not considered years ago. Our predecessors did not address the question of whether gay and lesbian people deserve to be treated with the same respect, acceptance, and rights as anyone else. That question was not raised publicly until our day.

The issues change. But what remains constant, what holds our identity together across this century, is the values with which we approach whatever issues face us. What I hope you'll hear from the excerpts that follow are familiar values, familiar principles. I hope that when you hear excerpts from sermons at All Souls from 80 years ago, 50 years ago, 30 years ago, and 20 years ago, you will hear, in unbroken line, the voice of reason, freedom, and acceptance that is a familiar voice today.

Other than Elmer Newbert, the missionary minister who was sent to All Souls in its first couple of years at the beginning of the last century, All Souls has had six settled ministers before me. Two of those remain living today, and both of those, Jack Mendelsohn and Ed Harris, have spoken from this pulpit in the recent past. You will hear from Ed Harris in two weeks. I have chosen excerpts from the remaining four ministers.

Some of the words and phrases and references will sound archaic. You will hear references, for example, to the evolution trials as a contemporary issue. Today, though the politics of evolution rears its head occasionally, the science of evolution is a settled question. You will hear the word "victrola," which my computer spell checker doesn't even recognize.

I have not changed these archaic references. One such practice you will hear today, which you will not hear from me on other days, is the use of the word "man" to refer to all people, or "mankind" to refer to the human race. This is a practice which has changed with our time, but is typical of the past.

We begin with Frank Scott Corey Wicks, who came to All Souls from Boston in 1906, and remained as minister until 1938, and as Minister emeritus until his death in the 1950s. Frank Wicks was a very distinguished gentleman, whose speech carried a high-brow Boston Brahmin accent, but whose demeanor was warm, gentle, and caring. He was known about town for his sense of humor, as well as for his advocacy of unpopular causes.

This sermon, entitled "Reason in Religion" was delivered on November 12, 1922, and concerns the connection between reason and faith, thinking and feeling, the head and the heart. This is one of my favorite topics, and something you have heard me address more than once in my ten years here. I was impressed that his handling of the question eighty years ago is virtually identical to the way I handle the issue today.

In the early years of this century, it was the practice to publish sermons in the local newspaper. This sermon was published in its entirety on the front page of the Indianapolis paper in 1922. It was also the practice of F.S.C. Wicks to base sermons on biblical quotes. The scripture used to introduce the following sermon was Isaiah 1:18: "Come now, and let us reason together."

From "Reason in Religion"

A Sermon by the Rev. Frank Scott Corey Wicks, D.D.

November 12, 1922

I have recently read a sermon in which the preacher said, "The world is in need of an appeal to the heart rather than an appeal to reason. The present tendency to base all upon an appeal to reason is likely to lead to chaos, and the world must choose between that and the Christ."

Elsewhere we are told that we must choose between reason and conscience. A third fearful alternative is between reason and faith.

Can it be true that if we would enjoy the rich fruitage that comes with the emotions; that if we would follow the monitions of conscience; that if we would fly on the wings of faith into the realms beyond the senses; that if we would profit by the teachings of Jesus, we must begin by sacrificing reason?

To sacrifice feeling, conscience, faith, and the teachings of Jesus would be a heavy price to pay for the autonomy of the intellect. I do not believe we face such dilemmas, and hope to prove that we do not impoverish life at any point when we submit to the guidance of reason.

Must we choose between Feeling and Thought, between the head and the heart? Physically, we should be in a bad way if we sever the head or the heart. The coroner's verdict in one case would be apoplexy; in the other, cardiac arrest.

John Stuart Mill, in his Autobiography, tells of the attempt of his father to sever the head from the heart, to cut away feeling and imagination from the intellect, and make his son into a perfect logic machine. It resulted in so impoverishing his life that it lost all zest and interest. There was no impulse to live. He was rescued from this deplorable state by the reading of poetry, and became convinced that "feelings are the greatest and surest sources of happiness."

Fortunately, Mill found his own remedy, not in stultifying his intellect, but in allowing his feelings a legitimate place in his life. Cultivation of the heart does not demand that we shall be guillotined first. We may keep our heads on our shoulders.

Must we choose between Reason and Faith? I want to save Faith as absolutely essential to life, and I can save it only by showing it may be in full accord with Reason. The man of science is as much a man of faith as the one who professes religion. He cannot take one step without faith in the Persistence of Force, a theory which cannot be proved, though it can be shown to be reasonable. He must have faith that the laws he sees in operation will operate as well tomorrow. He must have faith in the testimony of his senses, that they bring a correct report. He must have faith in the adequacy of his hypothesis.

There is this day a recrudescence of irrational faith, a return to barbarous superstitions. It begins with an attack on physical science. It would banish from our schools teaching of the principles of evolution. It lacked only one vote of carrying the Kentucky legislature for its measures. If the teaching of evolution is forbidden in our schools, all science disappears with it. Genesis will be the text book in science, and the myths of Babylon, filtered through the mind of the writer, will return to haunt the world.

We must save Faith as the essentials to life, and we must save it only by making it reasonable. We know reason cannot take us beyond the phenomenal world. We know the limitations of our knowledge. We know reason deals exclusively with the senses. We are sure there is an unseen background. Some believe it to be matter; others insist it is spirit, while Herbert Spencer dismisses it as "Unknowable." It is Faith alone that guides us through this unknown territory.

The man who says he believes only what can be proved knows absolutely nothing, for if he would be a man of science he must begin by postulating the persistence of force, something impossible of proof. Yet we are not compelled to abandon reason when we give ourselves to the guidance of faith. We must believe many things we cannot prove, but we must believe nothing that is unreasonable, anything that can be disproved by reason.

When I insist that our religion shall be a reasonable one... I am asking only that there must be no conflict between Reason and Faith. I am making this plea for Reason in Religion for I want to save Religion. I believe if the modern mind is compelled to choose between Faith and Reason, it will abandon Faith.

I insist that we are not compelled to make that choice. Acceptance of one does not necessitate rejection of the other. We shall continue to listen to the still, small voice; we shall continue to enrich life with the tribute that comes from feelings; we shall continue to look with the eyes of faith into the unknown beyond sense. But we shall insist that Reason be given supreme place in the search for truth, and, finding the truth, we rise to the sublimest faith of all, that with truth, all good things will be added unto us.

This passage from Dr. Wicks may sound timely to many others. At some point in the history of All Souls, the congregation voted on a sort of "motto" that identified the focus of our church. That motto is, "Where Reason and Religion Meet," and it appears in our newsletter and other publications. You can see how genuine that sentiment has been, reaching back to the very beginnings of our history as a congregation.

Frank Wicks retired in 1938 and his successor was E. Burdette Backus, who served as minister for 16 years. It was with Dr. Backus that All Souls began its weekly radio program that reached so many people. Some who are with us today in the sanctuary first heard of All Souls through Dr. Backus' voice on the radio.

Burdette Backus was also highly learned, with a strong sense of community activism for issues like racial justice. It was in his time that All Souls adopted another motto that described the church as a "religious circle with a civic center."

There are times that I have spoken about the honorable role of the heretical tradition in focusing our religious journey. Martin Luther, for example, was a heretic in his time, as was Martin Luther King in his time. Even Jesus, maybe especially Jesus, can be viewed historically as being a heretic, for which, of course he received the punishment of crucifixion.

I was intrigued to run across, in preparing for this morning, a sermon by Dr. Backus entitled "The World's Debt to its Heretics," delivered on February 1, 1948.

From "The World's Debt To Its Heretics"

A Sermon by the Rev. E. Burdette Backus

February 1, 1948

Oftimes the derivation of a word gives us an insight into its meaning which does not occur to us as we ordinarily use it. Such is the case with the word "heretic"; it comes from the Greek word which means, "able to choose." The heretic, therefore, is a person of independent mind who does not simply accept his beliefs because they happen to be dominant in the society in which he moves, because they are taught by his church or his party, but he accepts them on the basis of his own examination, his independent thought. He considers different possibilities and is "able to choose" among them that which to his mind best represents the truth.

Today this ability to think for oneself is among many of us regarded as a desirable quality; indeed it is held to be one of the highest achievements of man. How, then, does it come that the name heretic is regarded as a term of reproach, that there still lingers about it an unsavory taint so that there are few who are willing to be known as heretics? The answer is not far to seek. There is still attached to the term the feelings which were born of the time when conformity was regarded as the highest virtue and the man who dared choose for himself some pattern of thought or action other than that commonly accepted among his fellows was considered a traitor, a dangerous individual who was disrupting the unity of the group.

Yet it is clear from an impartial study of history that the heretic has an invaluable role to play in human society. He is the agent of change, of progress. There are two tendencies among us: the one, we call conservative. It is the tendency to let well enough alone, to keep things as they are. A very powerful tendency it is, too.... The other tendency is the progressive. The plain truth of the matter is that we do live in a world of change; things do not stand still, they are on the move. The heretic, the man who is "able to choose," is often only one who has become aware more quickly than his companions of the need for change to adjust to changing conditions, and as such he renders an important service which is rarely appreciated until long afterward....

To be sure, the heretic is not always right, the conservative always wrong. There have been many instances in which it has later been proved that the defenders of orthodoxy were nearer to the truth than were the heretics. And it needs always to be borne in mind that there are substantial values in the conservative position. Life requires a large degree of security which only a relatively stable order can give it. Too rapid or too frequent change can be fatal. But so, equally, can an adamant resistance to change. The course of evolution, both animal and human, is strewn with the wrecks of forms which were so set in their ways that they could not make the adaptations necessary to survival. And if the heretic can be mistaken, history also demonstrates that in a great many instances he is much more nearly right than those who have opposed him.

Alas, how much easier it is to look back and discern that the heretic was right and those who put him to death were wrong, than it is to see with equal clarity the right and wrong in the issues of our own day! There are all too many persons whose religion consists largely of worshipping the dead heretics of the past and persecuting the living heretics of today. We are very slow to learn the lesson which the careers of such men as Socrates should teach us, namely, that we ought not to silence the voice of the man who disagrees with us no matter how sure we are that he is mistaken or how dangerous we consider his ideas. It is possible that we are the ones who are mistaken and the heretic the one who has laid hold of a new and fruitful truth.

In the laboratory which I once visited a sign hung on the wall bearing this statement: "There must be a better way to do it." That motto was indicative of the spirit in which the scientists at work in the laboratory went about their tasks. They accepted the fact of change; they assumed that progress was possible and desirable; they deliberately cultivated the heretical attitude of mind and were "able to choose."

The same motto is applicable to human affairs in general, "there must be a better way of doing it." The conservative tendency is so powerful in human life that we do not need to worry about it, for it will take care of its own interests. But we do need to make deliberate provision for the heretic to contribute his full quota to our common human enterprise and he can do that only on condition that he feels free to give us the results of his best and fullest thought. There is only one real, only one deadly heresy; that is to deny any man the right to make his best contribution to our difficult task of finding the most favorable path for our humanity to tread on its difficult trek through the wilderness as it seeks the promised land.

When Burdette Backus retired in 1954, his successor was a young and energetic minister, recently of Rockford, Illinois, by the name of Jack Mendelsohn. Jack was here only five years, but they were probably among the most important five years of our history. The original church downtown, on Alabama street near 15th, was overflowing with people, and especially children. In this period, plans were made and implemented to construct a new church on the Northeast side of town, where population growth was expected. This new church began services in 1959, and at the same time, Jack Mendelsohn moved on to Arlington Street Church in Boston, one of the bell-weather churches of Unitarianism. Now in retirement, Jack returned to All Souls a few years ago, and many of you remember his inspiring words.

Jack was followed in 1959 by John MacKinnon, who served for ten years. Rev. MacKinnon was older, and brought with him extensive church experience. Like his predecessors, he was a scholar, and like his predecessors, he was actively involved in civic issues around civil liberties and justice.

The following sermon, entitled "What Do We Mean By Spiritual?" was delivered on February 4, 1962. I have chosen excerpts from this sermon because it is a question that still is alive in Unitarian Universalist circles, and one that I am asked to address from time to time. Minister colleagues of mine have commented that in the last ten years or so, the question, "What does spirituality mean" has been among the most popular topics in UU churches around the country. It struck me as significant that John MacKinnon was addressing the question 40 years ago. I chose to excerpt from this sermon because I was impressed with his answers to the question. I was impressed with his answers in part, I suppose, because they are so close to the way in which I would address the question, "What does "spirituality" mean?

From "What Do We Mean By Spiritual?"

A sermon by the Rev. John MacKinnon

February 4, 1962

A man once invited a friend to visit him and gave some such directions for finding his house:

"Leave the center of town and go three miles along Humbleton Avenue. You'll see a large green house on the corner of Brand Street."

"Sure," said his friend. "I can find that."

"Well," continued the host, "That isn't it. But you go on three blocks past the green house, just this side of the fire station."

"Oh," replied his friend, "Well I guess I can find that!"

"But," said the host, "that isn't it, either. You go on.... etc. etc."

It's not recorded whether the man's friend ever found his house or not. But this story comes to mind when I look over the definitions found in the Dictionary for the word "spiritual."

"Spiritual," it says, "is not material." "Spiritual is the opposite of physical." "Spiritual pertains to the soul or spirit as distinguished from matter." "Spiritual refers to sacred or religious things as contrasted to lay or temporal things." Dictionaries generally define "spiritual" in negations and contrasts. They are concerned with saying what it doesn't mean, rather than with pinning down its positive meaning. Whether the word is widely used or not, it ought to be more clearly and meaningfully defined. We Unitarians use it occasionally, although probably not nearly as much as it is used by other religious disciplines. When we do, however, we are not content to think of it exclusively in terms of what it is not. We want to try to express, if we can, what it is, and to express what it is meaningfully.

This practice of defining spiritual in terms of what it is not, and the resulting confusion about the term, probably springs from the primitive experience of the race with something which came to be called "the spirit" or "the soul." This couldn't be defined either except in terms of negation that we can know with a degree of experience. All of man's early religions did, and most of his present day ones do, play up this "other part," calling it the soul and saying that it can exist apart from the body, and is immortal. The nature of life, which we are beginning to understand a little better now-a-days, was a complete mystery to primitive people; and still is to many contemporary people. It was presumed to be something put into the body by God, which leaked out at death. With the aid of priests and religious leaders, man became strongly convinced that this something, which they called the soul, was different from the body; a separate thing.

We shall continue to be confused, and shall continue to throw around these words without giving them any understandable meaning, so long as we continue to think of "the soul" or "the spirit" as a separate, although intangible, part of ourselves. We can clear up the difficulty if we think of "spiritual" as a qualitative term which can be applied, in varying degrees, to anything and everything we do.

An example of what I mean is found in the way we use the word "moral." We do not use the word "moral" to apply to a separate part of the body, or to a separate function of ourselves. We use it to describe the kind of things we do. We speak of an "immoral act," or a "moral thought," or even a "moral feeling." We say that the things we do may be moral, or immoral, or a-moral. Any of the things we do, including the things we say or think or feel, can be classified in terms of whether they are moral, immoral or a-moral.

We would get far more effective mileage out of the word "spiritual" if we were to use it the same way; as an adjective describing the quality of our words, thoughts, deeds, and feelings. Thus when we speak of a spiritual act, a spiritual quality, or a spiritual feeling, we mean one which possesses or expresses a certain kind of quality. We do not mean a word, act, thought or feeling which is done by a separate part of us. All these things are done by the whole body-mind. What makes them spiritual, anti-spiritual, or non-spiritual is their quality....

All activities which minister to or promote the higher nature of man are spiritual. Activities which are concerned with the good, the true, the beautiful, are spiritual activities. All persons who aspire to higher levels of living, who strive to increase the total worth-while values in life are spiritual. Things like these may be spiritual: playing a concert or listening to it; making a victrola record, or playing it; broadcasting a radio or TV program, or receiving it; writing a book, or reading it; taking part in political or social reform, working in a church, leading or following an educational program, working in a factory or managing it, maintaining and living in a home; loving and being loved; creating things or ideas; taking part in conversation; developing friendship and enjoying it, etc.

Unhappily, all these things can be non-spiritual or anti-spiritual, too. Concerts, radio programs, victrola records, books, may detract from man's higher life, or, at least, add nothing to it. "Spiritual" is a quality which describes the character of an act or event, not a description of a specific act. It is even possible that the same event may be spiritual for one person and anti-spiritual for another; it may exalt one to share in a higher life of man, and depress another so as to make that higher life, for the time, impossible....

"Spiritual" means the highest and best in the life of man. Man brought it into being by his own struggle and keeps it alive by his own aspiration. So understood, let us use the word when it is appropriate. Let us cherish it as a meaningful way to understand life. And let us strive to embody more and more of it in ourselves, and in our common life with our fellows.

When John MacKinnon retired in 1969, Paul Beattie, a young minister from New Hampshire, was called as the new minister. Again, like his predecessors, Paul was a scholar who cared passionately about both ideas and issues. During his tenure as minister at All Souls, he was to become the leading voice in the country for religious humanism. He also led the cause for "freedom of conscience," the conviction that our movement ought not have social or political boundaries, but be safe for all who share our religious values.

Paul's tenure lasted until 1982, and during the decade of the 1970s, the church experienced many of the same upheavals that society at large experienced. Partly in reaction to these times, and partly in reaction to Paul's leadership, a new church was formed from a core of All Souls members. It turns out, some 15 years later, that Indianapolis has benefitted greatly from the existence of a second church, UUI. Paul continued as minister until he was called to our church in Pittsburgh, and after a few years there died suddenly during an operation.

As a leader of the religious humanist movement, Paul was able to articulate values that were needed to be heard in Indianapolis. The sermon I have selected for excerpt was one of his early ones, entitled "Religion Without God is Possible; Life Without Religion is Difficult." It was delivered on February 9, 1969, and published several times throughout his tenure here. This sermon presents many of Paul Beattie's qualities -- he is strong in his own convictions, direct in his analysis and conclusions, but respectful of different religious views, and welcoming of religious diversity.

I, too, speak from time to time on the topic of "God," and while I may not fully agree with his ultimate conclusions, I whole-heartedly endorse his analysis of the issue, and the values and principles that guide his thinking.

From "Religion Without God is Possible,

Life Without Religion is Difficult"

A Sermon by the Rev. Paul Beattie

February 9, 1969

When you ask an educated stranger the question, "What are your religious beliefs?", you (may) get the answer, "I'm not religious at all." Many people... have been told by the rigidly Orthodox that the starting point of religion is belief in God. These non-believers who would like to be considered religious, they would like to believe in God, but they cannot.... There was a time when the indisputable starting point of religion was God, but that time has passed. In our day, religion without God is possible.

Let us take a look at the God that for at least 1500 years reigned supreme in the Western world. Now, of course there are as many conceptions of God as there are believers. But in the main there was agreement on the essence of God's character. He was portrayed in the Bible as omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient. He was the creator and sustainer of the universe. He was good, yet always allowed evil to exist so that man might choose between the forces of good and evil.... This God of Western man was anthropomorphic. He had feelings just like humans - feelings of love, hate, and jealousy; he became angry and punished people; he was sympathetic and hated people. He operated in supernatural ways.

With the scientific revolution, which began in the 17^th century, belief in this God became increasingly difficult.... Belief in a God of miracles, whether it be the Virgin Birth, walking on water, or raising dead men, can no longer be tolerated by the scientific mind in a scientific age. When Nietzsche, a century ago, wrote that "God is dead and we have killed him," he meant that with the dawn of the modern age, belief in the supernatural God of the Bible has become increasingly difficult and fianally impossible.

What shall we do in the face of the death of God? How shall we fill the vacuum that is our age. It seems to me that a thinking person can hold one of two positions. One possibility is a broadened conception of God. We can define God in new terms which do not conflict with scientific thought.

When one thinks of God, not as a person living on Cloud Nine who does supernatural sideshows, but rather as the very structural process of reality, one is not sinning against science or good sense. One response to the death of God is some kind of "Process Theology." Such a theology views God as the process of the universe, and is based on empirical fact rather than on metaphysical speculation. If we are to have a God, he must be entirely part of the natural process of the universe.

Confucius, one of the great Chinese sages, was one of the most religious men ever to walk the face of the earth, and yet he did not believe in God. One can appreciate beauty, seek excellence in character, and have warm friendships without believing in God. One can bow before the ineffable mystery of life and follow the sublime ethical teachings of the prophets and Jesus without believing in God.

As the realization of the death of the old God gradually sinks into the consciousness of the twentieth century, two theological stances become apparent as viable options. Either our conception of God must be widened so that we think in naturalistic, non-personal terms, or we must realize that religion without God is possible and give our faith a humanistic _expression. It seems to me that both of these positions will remain live options for a long time to come. Indeed, sometimes I can't help thinking that the difference between the humanist and the naturalistic theist is very slight, and is not as much a difference in the interpretation of reality as a difference in temperament. One feels more comfortable with theistic terms, the other with humanistic terms. The actual practice of the mature humanist and the mature naturalistic theist is strikingly similar.

As wide and diverse as Unitarian Universalist thinking is, it seems to me that most of us fall into one or into the other of these wide and general categories. We tend either to be Naturalistic Theists or Humanists.

What is it that holds these two main groupings of Unitarian Universalists together? It is the realization of the value of the religious way of life. It is the conviction, based on experience, that life without religion is difficult. Life at its deepest levels cannot be found without religious orientation. Every man who would live harmoniously and well in this world and with his fellow man must live by religious principles. Religion for the humanist and theist alike is a life-long search for the most adequate response to all of life.

The attitude which looks at religion as a search; a reverence for reason and the scientific method; love toward mankind; mute wonder at the mystery of life and the glory of creation; a dedication to honesty; a conviction to be sincere in the practice of one's beliefs; tolerance of the differences in religious _expression; the affirmation of racial equality and the brotherhood of man; a disposition for the democratic process as the best way for organizing the church and society; the hope for the gradual improvement of the individual and society; and a longing for Universal religion, religion open to all men and for all men, a religion which will use and share and preserve and revere the best of all man's religious traditions. All these attitudes are underlying the convictions shared by humanists and theists alike.

Paul Beattie was followed by a temporary, two-year interim minister, Fred Campbell. Paul's successor was finally chosen in 1984, the Rev. Ed Harris, who had been serving our church in Urbana, Illinois. Ed brought with him the ideal qualities that were needed -- a warmth, a sense of humor, a depth of concern for the issues of living, and a quieting presence for the anxious-minded. Ed was able to heal many of the wounds from the earlier split, and from the pulpit challenge the mind and heart to be more open and accepting.

Ed is now Minister Emeritus, and addresses us from this pulpit from time to time, as he will on December 1. After several years of serving as interim minister at churches in transition, he now lives in retirement in Indianapolis and was responsible for, with the help of our D.R.E. Nancy Renner Clear, the start of a new church in Danville.

What you have heard this morning is the story of the continuity of values from the All Souls pulpit. In unbroken line, this church, through its people, and through the voices of its ministers, has brought to our community the desperately needed nourishment of freedom, reason, and acceptance. Though the issues change from decade to decade, generation to generation, the principles hold us together with our forbearers, and direct us to the future with our successors. Our histoiry is rich and worth revisiting - our future will be as rich, and we will all be creating it, beginning right now.