“And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.” A reading from the Book of Acts, describing the first Christian Pentecost. Pentecost was and is a Jewish holiday that occurs seven weeks after Passover. Tradition teaches that on that day the Torah was given to the people. As the apostles of Jesus, who were still observant Jews, gathered for Pentecost, they had this strange experience described in Acts.
It was pretty dramatic and confusing, at least at first. Some assumed that those speaking in strange languages were drunk. But Peter set them straight. “Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning.” Peter could be a pretty literal fellow. But he was also wise in recognizing those strange and unsettling events as the fulfillment of a prophecy, ad time when God would pour out spirit upon all flesh, a time when “your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.”
The Pentecost, for those early Christians, was an experience of having their eyes, minds and hearts opened to the possibility of living with the ongoing inspiration of the Holy Spirit. This was good news indeed for a group of people who were frightened and disheartened after the death of their beloved leader. When I think about the experience of the disciples after Jesus’ death, I am reminded of the Holly Near poem “I Am Waiting For Instructions.” Aren’t we all? Don’t we all long for a clear directive as to what our mission and purpose in life ought to be? Don’t we all long to see visions and dream dreams?
You might say that the experience of the disciples was the first uniquely Christian experience of the idea that revelation is continuous. The good news they received on that cacophonous and joyful day was that the death of Jesus did not mean the death of wisdom or clarity; they could still discern the will of God. They would receive further instructions on the building of their emerging religious movement.
Revelation is continuous. We Unitarian Universalists believe that with all our hearts and souls. We believe that Pentecost can and does happen over and over again – albeit in somewhat less dramatic fashion. The idea of continuing revelation is not unique to our religious tradition, it is the emphasis we give to it that is unique. We give it the largest place, to use Frederick May Eliot’s words. And we give the larger place to human agency - our confidence comes not just from our belief that we will continue to receive instructions from the universe but from the belief that we can and will act faithfully on those instructions.
It was the theologian James Luther Adams, of whom I have spoken frequently in the past several months, who held up this emphasis on continuing revelation as one of the hallmarks of our free faith. Adams, you may remember authored a series of essays on the Five Smooth Stones of liberal religion. He identified five powerful ideas, akin to the five smooth stones that the shepherd boy David chose for his slingshot before going out to do battle with Goliath. The first of those powerful ideas was the continuity of revelation. The second, which I wrote about last month, was the power of voluntary association. Today we consider a third foundational idea. “ . . . (religious) liberalism holds that the resources (divine and human) that are available for the achievement of meaningful change justify an attitude of ultimate optimism.”
Note that he uses the term ultimate optimism, as opposed to ‘immediate optimism.’ He cautions that the state of the world may not bear out our faith in human agency. Adams was not naïve; he had seen the worst that the 20th century had to offer; he knew that religious liberals had to acknowledge the terrible evils being perpetrated in the name of God and country across the globe. But he was equally convinced that it was our religious obligation to stand for something far better, and to work to bring that better vision into being.
Adams believed that placing an attitude of ultimate optimism among the foundational ideas of Unitarian Universalism was justified because it derives logically from all of our other core ideals. If we believe as an article of faith that revelation is continuous there is reason to believe that things are meant to get better. But it is the other basics – those other three smooth stones – that really reinforce the cause for optimism. The three essential principles and practices which intentionally create and sustain liberal religious communities:
first our churches are voluntary associations formed on the basis of mutual and free consent (the sermon on this topic was snowed out last month but I posted it on the web site for your reading pleasure. It is called “Ten Thousand Gripping Toes.” If you read it, you will find out what the title means.) We are here because we choose to be here; our presence means something, it is not habit or pro forma.
second our churches are outward rather than inward looking. We are mission based and mission driven; we are people of faith whose primary orientation is not personal piety but doing together the work that will bring into being the community of justice and love.
third our churches understand that in order to be effective, they must have form; they must learn to embrace the organization of power and the power of organization.
Of course there are times in the developmental life of every UU congregation when those things are more the ideal than the present reality. That’s because we are mere human beings creating a human community. But even when we recognize that we have fallen short of our core ideals, we have reason to be hopeful. There is power in the recognition of falling short that impels us forward towards the day when we will embody once again those lofty principles.
No matter the circumstances, we are a religious people who choose ultimate optimism. What does it mean to live religiously with an attitude of ultimate optimism? In terms of a personal spiritual orientation, being an optimist means approaching life with a sense of openness, waiting expectantly for a glimpse of truth or glory. It means being ready, ready to receive, to process, to act. And it means being willing, willing volunteers in service to the ultimate unfolding of the kingdom of God, or whatever you would like to call that better world waiting to be born into our hands.
Maintaining an attitude of ultimate optimism requires that we live with some awareness of and appreciation for history. We remember that we didn’t invent these ideas, this faith, or these principles. We reap what we did not sow. That by itself is a reason for optimism. At the other end of the spectrum, to be an ultimate optimist also requires us to have some awareness of and appreciation for an unknown future that we will not live to see. We are obligated to sow anew so that others who come after us will reap as we have.
This is true not only in our personal lives, but in our communal lives as well. There is strength in numbers, and our ability to be effective agents of change and progress depends on our ability to work together to build the kind of community that can positively influence the course of history. Jim Adams sums it up this way. “In response to the primary question of whether history has a meaning and a demanded direction or not, (we) answer, finally, ‘Yea’. This is the issue that cuts through all others. It cuts through the ranks of those who believe in God as well as through the ranks of unbelievers. The affirmative answer of prophetic religion, which may be heard in the very midst of the doom that threatens like thunder, is that history is a struggle in dead earnest between justice and injustice, looking towards an ultimate victory in the promise and fulfillment of grace. Anyone who does not enter into that struggle with the affirmation of love and beauty misses the mark and thwarts creation as well as self-creation. Thus, with all the realism and tough-mindedness that can be mustered, the genuine (religious) liberal finally can hear and join the Hallelujah Chorus – intellectual integrity, social relevance, amplitude of perspective, and the spirit of true liberation offer no less.”
What beautiful and stirring language! I am so inspired by those words that I preach about them every week. In a way . . . It is commonly believed that every minister really only has one sermon that we preach over and over again each week with different words. One sermon. One underlying thread that holds together all the wildly disparate tasks of ministry. It’s true. I have one sermon that I preached to the Ministerial Fellowship Committee in 1992 when I first sought fellowship in this faith. That sermon, with different words, is the one I have preached to you each Sunday for the past 2 ½ years. It is this morning’s sermon as well. My one sermon is about ultimate optimism.
I believe in James Adam’s ideal with all my ministerial heart. I have believed that and acted out of that belief each time my own personal life was clouded with despair and sorrow. I believe it each time I walk with a parishioner in a time of loss or pain. I believe it each time I advocate for justice, even though it seems like we are fighting the same fight over and over again. And I believe it every time I sit down at my computer to write a sermon, no matter the title or the topic. I believe that in the long run, all of ministry, all that I do and all that you do and all that we do together, every act of ministry brings us just a scooch closer to ushering in the Kingdom of God.
This attitude of ultimate optimism requires that we do our works of mutual ministry with no guarantee of immediate results. We may never know what the ultimate results of our actions will turn out to be. We may not get the credit; we may not ever cross over into the promised land. But to act anyway is what our liberal faith is all about. It is about advocating for the principles and values we believe in with no guarantee of success or even discernable progress.
Vedran Smailovic did not ask for a guarantee that if he played his cello, he would bring security or even comfort to his people. He didn’t say, “What can I do? I’m just a musician.” If he had, he would have stayed safely indoors and given into the despair of that time and place. Instead he put on the full armor of faith – which in his case meant a tuxedo – and embodied ultimate optimism.
We can all do likewise. I encourage each of you to put on the full armor of your faith, whatever shape that might take, and bring your story or your music or whatever it is that you have to give – bring it out into the world. Take with you all the realism and tough-mindedness that you can muster, then go and join that Hallelujah Chorus.