"What is in a Name? Unitarian"

"UNITARIANISM FOR TODAY"

A sermon by the Rev. Bruce Clear

Sunday, January 31, 2010

All Souls Unitarian Church

Indianapolis, Indiana

It has been observed for years within Unitarian circles that there are thousands of people who are, we say, "Unitarians without knowing it." I hear this said from new people several times a year. What is meant by that is that many people share Unitarian values, our approach to religion, who believe that religious questions ought to be approached with reason and with freedom, but for much of their lives they have never heard of Unitarian Universalism.

Some years ago, a report came out concerning a national poll which asked people to identify their religion. It revealed that nearly 500,000 people in this country do consider themselves Unitarians. Five hundred thousand people represent three times the number of actual members who can be accounted for on the membership books in our churches and fellowships. That is to say, for every sign-on-the-line, pledging, go-to-church-at-least-every-now-and-then member, there are two others out there who have no formal association with us, but still think of themselves as Unitarian, and say so when asked.

That means there are over 300,000 Americans who identify themselves religiously as Unitarians, but are not members of a Unitarian church or fellowship. They are Unitarians who know it, but they do not do it.

Beyond those numbers are many, many more who no doubt would be Unitarians, except they don't know about us -- who are "Unitarians without knowing it."

I'd like, this morning, to offer another observation, one that probably will not take on the popularity of cliche (like being "Unitarian without knowing it") -- in fact the aphorism I offer probably won't be remembered much beyond early this afternoon.

I believe that most Unitarians are "ontological monists" without knowing it. Most people in this room are ontological monists, and most of you don't realize it, though you might by the time I finish this morning.

In fact, I am an ontological monist, and I didn't fully realize it until working on this sermon.

So what is an ontological monist? I'm glad you asked.

"Monism" refers to the number "one": singular, unitary, one. "Ontology" is a philosophical term that means the study of existence. Actually, I like the words of Virgilius Ferm. Virgilius Ferm is the Noah Webster of religion who 50 years ago wrote a dictionary of religion that is still the standard today. Under the entry "ontology," Ferm describes it as "the study of... the fundamental stuff of existence." (I like that word "stuff," though I clearly remember my junior high school English teacher didn't like it at all when I used it.)

So, an "ontological monist" is a person who believes that reality consists of one, singular, fundamental stuff. (Of course I use this phrase, "fundamental stuff" only in its technical, academic sense).

Some might observe that this is not a very radical belief. Those who observe that would be wrong. The fact is that most of Western thinking has been dualistic, not monistic. Dualistic thinking, especially in religion, has appeared in a variety of forms. Perhaps the most common form of dualistic thinking is the belief that the sacred is separate from the secular, or that the holy is located outside of this world.

This dualism tells us that there is (let us call it) the "God-stuff," and then there is "human-stuff," and they are separate from each other. Dualism supposes that the fundamental stuff of reality is two, not one. The human-stuff in reality is necessarily flawed and imperfect, unlike the God-stuff in reality which is perfect. It is through the premise of this dualism that societies have created powerful priesthoods which deliver God's untainted truth to the undeserving and still dependent masses.

According to this dualism, we humans cannot know God except through certain special exercises which open the windows between the two separate worlds of the sacred and the secular. Those windows to the other world are opened only through sacraments, scripture, or ritual practices. God may grace us if invited, but it is clearly up to God, and not us, to do so. The divine is of different stuff than the human. This is "ontological dualism." It is very different from "ontological monism."

Ontological monists say that sacred moments can be discovered by ordinary human experience. We can touch the sacred at the birth of a child, or in the performance of great music, or in hearing stories of great heroism and sacrifice in responding to tragedy in Haiti. We need not leave our reality to experience the sacred. The human and the sacred are bound up together as one fundamental “stuff.”

Emerson made this point poetically when he wrote:

“As there is no screen or ceiling between our heads and the infinite heavens, there is no bar or wall in the soul where we, the effect, cease, and God, the cause, begins.”

Another form of ontological dualism is closely related to this. It is a belief that there is "this world" and then there is "another world" somewhere, somehow, beyond this one. In most forms, this dualism of worlds suggests that we pass on to the other world when we die in this one.

This dualism was found in Plato and Islam as well as in the early Christian church. The fundamental "stuff" that we experience in this world is quite different from the fundamental "stuff" that we will experience in the next world. In its extreme form, this dualism suggests that our experiences in this world --the pains and pleasures of this life -- are largely illusory, for it is only the next world that really counts. This world is simply a stopping place on the way to the next one. The belief in two worlds is a form of ontological dualism. It is very different from ontological monism.

A third form of ontological dualism, quite common in Western thought and especially Western religion, is that of the battle between good and evil. Good and evil not only happen, they are forces active in the world, each seeking conquest over the other. In most scenarios, the forces of good are marshaled by God and the forces of evil by Satan.

Good and evil take on the embodiment in this world in individuals, or perhaps in the form of ideologies, or nations, or even races of people. In some forms of dualism, physical objects become the "stuff" of good or evil: alcohol, a bible, a flag, an objectionable book. But good and evil pervade the world, wherever you look. This is ontological dualism, and is very different from ontological monism.

One final common example of dualism: many in the West see the mind and the body as fundamentally different, and the mind is constituted by fundamentally different "stuff" than the body. This dualism separates the mental or the spiritual from the physical or the material.

This dualism is not just found in Western religions. It is becoming increasingly prominent in the popular culture through metaphysical religions which teach that the body (or the physical world) is essentially illusory, and only the mind is real, only the mind has power. This is another kind of ontological dualism, very different from ontological monism.

My argument this morning, you'll recall, is that most Unitarians are basically ontological monists, whether they know it or not. That they are ontological monists is something that is signaled, in fact, by the meaning of the name itself: "Unitarianism."

The word "Unitarian" has as its root the idea of "one": unitary or unity. It is not surprising that Unitarians view the world monistically, even though that is not why the name was originally coined.

But take a look at the dualisms I have just listed, and you'll see that most Unitarians approach these issues monistically. That is, we experience the world as one fundamental "stuff," not two.

With regard to the separation of the sacred from the secular, of God from the world, most Unitarians I know would deny that these represent two fundamentally different realities. Some Unitarians believe in God and some don't, this is true. But in either case, Unitarians affirm that the divine is not of fundamentally separate stuff than the human; that there is no radical separation between the sacred and secular. Their view is monistic.

It is also true with the dualistic view of the separation between "this world" and "the next world." Unitarians may, and do, hold varying opinions about what it means to die, but few Unitarians I know would view this world as merely a stopping place on a journey to the next.

While dualistic thought suggests a battle between the forces of good and evil, Unitarians tend not to accept such a radical distinction that severs our experience. In our experience, by and large, there are far more shades of gray in ethics and action than there is simple right and wrong. We are more inclined to agree with the Taoists of China whose “yin/yang” symbol shows how opposites are just different manifestations of the same thing.

It reminds me of the ancient story about a farmer who reported his experience to a spiritual mater:

One day, the farmer’s horse escaped from the farm, and the distraught farmer went to his spiritual Master and said, “Master, a terrible thing has happened. My horse ran away, and now I have no horses.” To which the master said, “Who knows what is good and what is bad?”

The next day the horse returned, but it came home with another wild horse behind it. The farmer went to the master and said, “Master, a wonderful thing has happened. My horse returned and brought with it another horse that my son can have for himself.” The Master replied, “Who knows what is good and what is bad?”

The wild horse was tamed, but when the farmer’s son rode the horse into the wilderness, the horse bucked him off, and the farmer’s son broke his leg. The farmer went to the master and said, “a terrible thing has happened. My son rode the wild horse, and fell off, and broke his leg.”

The master responded, “Who knows what is good and what is bad?”

The next day, the Emperor came through town, drafting young men to fight in a war. But the emperor and his men rejected the farmer’s son, because he had a broken leg. The farmer went to the Master and said, “Master, a great thing has happened. The emperor came to draft my son, but he let him go because of his broken leg!’ And the Master said:

. . . . Well, you know what the Master said.

The final dualism I mentioned was the separation of mind and body, the spiritual and the physical reality, where the material world is in some way subordinate to the mental or spiritual stuff of reality.

This very popular dualism is, I observe, quite tempting to many Unitarians, but in the end I believe most of us are inclined to accept that the fundamental stuff of reality -- both mind and body -- are united, are whole, are one.

When it comes right down to it, most Unitarians, whether they recognize it or not, are basically monists -- ontological monists. It is there, as I say, in the name, "Unitarian." And what I shall argue before I finish is that this world is in desperate need of more monistic thinking.

Now it is true that "ontological monism" is not the original reason for, or the original meaning of, the name "Unitarian." When the word “Unitarian” began to be used, it was not used to identify a religion of monists. Yet the original meaning of the word itself pointed in the direction of monism.

Unitarianism, as most of you know, arose as a name to identify those within the Christian tradition who affirmed that God is one, not three. It identified those who did not accept doctrine of the Trinity. That is the historical origin of the name, "Unitarian"; though it is not, I am suggesting, the whole story.

The early Unitarians had many reasons for affirming the oneness of God. Some reasons were obvious. The Trinity is nowhere mentioned in the Bible, they said. The doctrine of the Trinity was constructed by the church councils, not by Jesus, they said. And furthermore, the Trinity is, simply, unnecessarily confusing. It is muddled thinking.

These are hardly affirmations of monistic thinking. They are simply sound theological criticism. And the fact is, further, that most Unitarians today care very little about arguments for or against the Trinity. The issue is a dead issue for most of us, and reading the arguments about the Trinity from Unitarians 400 years ago or even one hundred years ago strikes most of us as, at minimum, quaint, or at most, irrelevant.

However, in their attempt to defend the unity of God rather than the trinity of God, Unitarians marshaled quite a number of arguments, not all of which are quaint or irrelevant in today's light. Many of the reasons they gave, in fact, demonstrated that their impulse was seriously monistic, and highly relevant to modern thinking.

In William Ellery Channing's 1826 sermon, from which the reading was extracted this morning, we find such thinking. That sermon was designed to defend Unitarianism against the attacks of the Trinitarians of his day. Hence, the title: "Unitarian Christianity Most Favorable to Piety." In that defense, Channing touches on monistic points we continue to affirm.

"Unitarianism," he wrote, "accords with nature, with the world around (us) and the world within us."

With regard to the world around us, Channing spoke of the increasing view of science and philosophy about "a sublime and beautiful unity" in the universe. "Neither nature nor the soul bears one trace of three divine persons. Nature gives not a hint, not a glimpse of a tri-personal author," he argued. The fact remains today that science reinforces the interdependence of nature, that nature reveals to us a "sublime and beautiful unity."

In his popular book, A Brief History of Time, cosmologist and astrophysicist Stephen Hawking ends with an observation that has become quite controversial. The book highlights the search for what has come to be called "the unified field theory." As it stands now, the scientific theories that explain how subatomic particles work are very different from the theories that explain the behavior of planets. It is believed that science will eventually find a theory that explains both, that will unify our understanding of nature. Hawking writes:

"If we do discover a complete theory... we shall all, philosophers, scientists, and just ordinary people, be able to take part in the discussion of the question of why it is that we and the universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason -- for then we would know the mind of God."

Science, Hawking seems to be telling us, has its own deep-seeded faith in ontological monism -- that the fundamental stuff of reality is one, not many. Science holds to that faith even if it has not yet demonstrated it empirically. The search for a unified theory is testament to the faith of science in unity.

This is another way of saying, as Channing said, that "nature reveals a sublime and beautiful unity." To find truth, it is suggested, we look for truth in nature itself. Religious truth is not something separate from, different from, the truth of nature itself.

In arguing against the doctrine of the trinity, Channing argued against the age-old dualism which said that God's reality is different from human reality expresses age-old dualism. There is God's way of being, and a human way of being, and these are different. The formula of having a divided personality, says Channing, is foreign to our experience in nature.

"The peculiarities of Trinitarianism differ so much from the teachings of the universe that he who is attached to one will be in danger of losing his interest in the other."

Though we put little effort today in arguing about the trinity, the monistic principle is still with us, I believe. Truth, as far as we can grasp truth, is one, and we do not look to God for one kind of truth and to nature for another. The admonition which is still often heard, that "God's ways are not our ways, and we cannot hope to understand why God does the things he does," is a dualistic maxim thoroughly foreign to Unitarian monistic thinking.

But Channing also said that Unitarianism accords not only with the world around us, but with the world within us. "The human soul has a unity," he said. By this he is referring to human reason. Our reason, he felt, is an expression of divine nature, and a faith that violates reason must therefore be a deficient and even dangerous faith, no matter how emotionally satisfying it may be.

Instead, Channing spoke eloquently of a monistic view of human nature, though he certainly wouldn't use that word. We human beings are not broken into a rational nature for day to day living, and a spiritual nature for religious faith. A doctrine that insults our reason is false doctrine. We are whole persons, and faith must accord with reason itself. Here is how he expressed it:

"The soul never acts so effectually or joyfully as when all its powers and affections conspire; as when thought and feeling, reason and sensibility, are called forth together by one great and kindling object.... We want a harmony in our inner nature. We want a piety which will join light and fervor, and on which the intellectual power will look (kindly).... Reason is too godlike a faculty to be insulted with impunity."

My point in quoting extensively from Channing is not, I want to assure you, to resurrect the debate over the Trinity. That is no longer even a live issue as far as most of us are concerned.

I quote, however, to show that underlying our name, "Unitarian," rests something deeper than its original meaning. Though the early proponents of this religious philosophy may not have recognized it themselves, their aversion to trinitarianism arose from a deeper devotion -- a devotion to a principle of the unity of all things, the oneness of what Virgilius Ferm calls the "fundamental stuff" of reality. Their affirmation of the unity of God was an expression, I believe, of ontological monism. We are all one.

When Channing suggested that "Unitarianism accords with the world within us," he was also pointing, I think, to a broader vision. Within our souls we feel related, connected -- a kindred part of the universe. We recognize that the unity of the fundamental "stuff " of existence means that what happens to others concerns us, what happens to us concerns others.

This is a broader vision of unity, of monism, and I think, of Unitarianism. This is the religious vision that Unitarianism today affirms. We are all one.

"We are all one" is a sentiment desperately needed in our world today. As the drama of the restructuring of the world stage unfolds, the imperative of our interdependence ought to be the primary standard for our actions.

I did not, by the way, invent this notion that Unitarian theology expresses "ontological monism." I borrowed it from an essay written by a colleague of mine, Jay Atkinson, which he entitled "A Unitarian Universalist Theology of Peace." Jay wondered why, throughout our history, Unitarians have been active in peace movements. Is there something in our theology that supports such concern? There is, he said.

In theologies of dualism, the attitude of "us" against "them" is promoted as a part of the continuing battle of good and evil. But in theologies of monism, we do recognize that "we are all one." A theology of monism does not set the stage for conflict of "us" vs. "them," but embraces a vision of cooperation. Jay concludes that "monistic understandings of peace look beyond the idea of merely holding the enemy at bay to a broader vision of... restoration of a sundered relationship."

Cooperative and respectful relationships in the world is only one dimension of the expression of monism. Another one for which the world is in desperate need is ecological respect. That our personal welfare is directly connected to the health of the planet is a monistic principle. It is incompatible with any form of dualism.

In some ways, the name "Unitarian" is archaic, I admit. The issue that defined that name -- the debate over the trinity -- continues to have little or no significance today. And yet the name itself bears with it a deeper meaning, an aspiration to wholeness, toward unity, toward oneness that is as important as it has ever been. And I believe that aspiration for unity of the fundamental "stuff" of experience is what led our forebearers to affirm so strongly the oneness rather than the multiplicity of the divine.

There are two names from nineteenth century Unitarianism that were of major importance in the movement then, are largely unknown today, but sound strange and exotic to our ears. One name is Octavious Brooks Frothingham, the other is Jabez T. Sunderland. I'll close with comments from them about the deeper meaning of the name "Unitarian."

Octavious Brooks Frothingham was a leader in the transcendentalist movement. He left the Unitarians for a decade or more, believing it was too traditional, but in 1890, he returned, believing that the Unitarian vision had transformed, and that the legacy of the name remained powerful. Here is what he said about the movement, and the name, in 1890:

"It is a religion of aspiration, poetic feeling, imagination, prescience. It calls itself "Unitarian" simply because that name suggests mental freedom, and breadth, and progress, and elasticity, and joy. Another name might do as well, perhaps, and be more accurately descriptive. But no other would be as impressive, or, on the whole, so honorable."

And Jabez T. Sunderland, another Unitarian minister writing over a hundred years ago, spoke of what he called "the larger meaning of Unitarianism." These words are as valid today as they were then, and are an appropriate summary of what this morning I've been calling "ontological monism."

"Unitarianism, to be true to its great name, must be the religion of the Eternal Unities.... All the religious faiths in their deeper meanings are one; all social interests are one; humanity is one; all life is strangely one; all worlds unite to make one orderly and harmonious universe. The mission of Unitarianism is nothing less than to be faithful to this truth, in all that is deepest and most religiously significant in it."