Theophilus Lindsey

One of the most significant figures in Unitarian history, Theophilus Lindsey, was born on this day in 1723. Educated at St John's College, Cambridge, he took orders within the Anglican church and served in a number of capacities. Informed in part by his close friendship with the Presbyterian Unitarian minister and scientist Joseph Priestly, Lindsey's theology gradually shifted toward Unitarianism.

Over the years many Anglicans had held proto-Unitarian or Unitarian perspectives, including John Milton, John Locke and Isaac Newton. And at first Lindsey hoped to continue as a minister within the comprehensiveness of the Anglican church. To this effect he joined with a number of other clerics to compose the Feathers Tavern Petition. The petition called for greater freedom of conscience and open expression of dissenting views than was currently allowed. Had it been addressed it would have allowed clergy to openly hold Unitarian views. Significantly some two hundred and fifty clergy signed the petition, which was duly sent to Parliament. Parliament refused to receive it on two separate occasions.

Coming to see there would be no way for an official form of Unitarianism to have a place within the established church, Lindsey resigned his pulpit, rented a hall in Essex Street, in London, and in April of 1774 conducted the first Unitarian worship service in a congregation gathered for that specific purpose. This event was attended by many luminaries of the day, including Priestly and Benjamin Franklin.

This was the beginning of institutional Unitarianism within the English speaking world.

Thank you, Theophilus!

Two Zen Traps on the Zen Way

The Zen way has proven to be the cleanest path toward depth I've stumbled upon in the course of my life. It is the essence of practical mysticism, providing clear pointers to the goal of nondual experience, simple precepts for maintaining a harmonious life, and with shikantaza and koans provides two of the most effective spiritual disciplines I've ever found.

And the Zen way has numerous problematic elements.

I suspect that the foremost of these problematic elements is the Zen teacher.

Now, I think guides upon the great way are of incredible importance, for most of us probably essential. Linji famously warned, "If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him." He wasn't actually talking about the great teacher you encounter on your way to Boston, but the "buddha" that calls himself, calls herself "me." The worst teacher, the one most inclined to abuse of sex or power or, well that list is very, very long, is the one inside our skulls. Sadly, that monster is very seductive and whispers enticements all the time...

So, we need teachers, most all of us, people who know us, who understand the traps, and guide us toward our own experience. We need people who can say, "You know, that's probably not so..." At least that's my observation. And, I believe, the Zen path has created a pretty good school of spiritual direction. And, I hope, I'm underscoring, teachers have proven to be pretty important...

Sadly, the mythic structures of Zen have overstated what a teacher is, implying and sometimes stating straight out that once awakened somehow everything the Zen teacher does is a pointer on the way. Here's a little truth statement: It isn't so... Both students and teachers have been misled by this romance and have found themselves over their heads in the weeds. Too often...

But, as I've suggested, nonetheless, we need teachers, we need guides, we need friends who have walked the way before us. I believe we need to reframe the teacher a little, take her down a peg, let him be a little more human and a lot more fallible. And from there take a little more personal responsibility.

One possibly useful way to get a handle on this is to look to the differences between the understanding of Catholic and Anglican priesthoods. The former creates a story of grand and magical proportions where the priest stands in a line of contact that traces back to Jesus himself. Unbroken and containing charisms that give life eternal. The Anglican, for the most part, view takes the same story and sees it as a useful myth. I think Zen teachers and practitioners would both be much better off holding the teacher just as lightly as the wisest Anglicans hold their priesthood...

The second problematic issue is how we hold the practices themselves. I've written of koans elsewhere. And no doubt will return to that subject. Here I'm thinking of shikantaza, "just sitting," or "silent illumination."

Bottom line the practice is "sit down, shut up and pay attention."

I believe from the depths of my being this is the universal solvent. It is the gateway to genuine wisdom.

And, sadly this practice is constantly fetishized within Zen circles.

Some people, including the masters of old, have gotten off the track and make the practice about posture. Here's another little hint on the way: one need not overly worry about posture. Following the traditional guidelines is good, but, here's the bottom line: not necessary.

Sit down, shut up and pay attention.

Need a commentary on this? Consistent and regular practice and occasional retreats are the ideal rhythm of practice.

If you can't sit down, well just shut up and pay attention. That's enough. Really...

And, if you can't sit down or shut up, well, it's going to be harder, but still: pay attention.

And, you know, it'll turn out that's enough.

One of my Western spiritual guides Henry David Thoreau had a thought or two on this subject, written long before anyone in the West had heard of shikantaza or got tangled in literalist interpretations of what it was about.

"We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us even in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavour. It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts."

So, my encouraging words this morning.

Pay attention.

That's enough...

BEING PEACE: Julian of Norwich and the Way of Radical Love

BEING PEACE

Julian of Norwich
and the Way
of Radical Love

A Sermon by
James Ishmael Ford

18 May 2008
First Unitarian Society
Newton, Massachusetts


Text

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

T. S. Eliot “Little Gidding”



My strongest difficulty here today as I begin this reflection may be to not let T. S. Eliot capture this sermon and make it his own. I cite him as he provides a perfect illustration for today’s purposes. Which for a sermon addressing the most important things to me shouldn’t be surprising. In my formative years “J. Alfred Prufrock” caught my imagination. The “Wasteland” gave voice to my anxieties. “Ash Wednesday,” the plays Murder in the Cathedral and The Cocktail Party, and most of all the “Four Quartets” informed and gave images as well as turns of phrase to my developing spirituality.

I can’t say how much it is taking not to launch into a disquisition on Eliot. Each title fires my imagination and traces of reveries long gone float again into my consciousness. His biography also hangs in the background, and possibly even more relevant to where I want to go today. Raised Unitarian, after a brief flirtation with Buddhism, he embraced Anglicanism’s spiritual comprehensiveness. His unlikely journey from America to England also hints volumes at the mutability of our lives both as individuals and where we’re going. I believe, irresistibly toward a new world culture.

For today, the main reason I’m thinking of Eliot is that closing part of “Little Gidding,” the culmination of his “Four Quartets.” And of that poem, one phrase in particular, “And all shall be well and/All manner of thing shall be well.” Eliot is, of course, not the author of that phrase. He lifted it from Dame Julian of Norwich. Julian, her person and theology and in particular that little line which Eliot echoed “And all shall be well and/All manner of thing shall be well” are the deep thesis of today’s sermon.

What all this is about is what I’m increasingly calling the New Universalism. In our culture Universalism, while inspired by Judaism, mainly emerged as a subset of Christian faith, the belief that through Jesus Christ all would eventually be reconciled to God. Hence, in a reference work like the American Heritage Dictionary Universalism is defined as “the doctrine of universal salvation.” Certainly true enough. But, this usage has been stretched considerably in recent decades. At Wikipedia we find:

“Universalism is a religion and theology that generally holds all persons and creatures are related to God or the divine and will be reconciled to God. A church that calls itself Universalist may emphasize the universal principles of most religions and accept other religions in an inclusive manner, believing in a universal reconciliation between humanity and the divine… Universalist beliefs exist within many faiths, and many Universalists practice in a variety of traditions, drawing upon the same universal principles.”

Here I feel we find universalism as it is increasingly understood among us, a New Universalism built upon the old, but ever, how shall I say, more universal. And, one more thing. The next paragraph in the Wikipedia article tellingly adds, “The most common principle drawn upon is love.” Love. Love. I’ll come back to this in a moment, but, first, a caution or two.

There are numerous dangers in such an encompassing path, one that claims to have hit upon universal themes in the many different religions, and even beyond. Foremost is picking and choosing from this religion and that. It becomes an open invitation to dilettantism, to perpetual wading in the shallows of faith. This grazing in the world’s traditions also holds, to my mind, the germ of truth in the contemporary concern with “cultural appropriation.” I’ve witnessed how people have in one stroke insulted practitioners of an ancient religious tradition indulging a taste for novelty, while at the same time completely avoiding any challenge or authentic depth in their own lives.

These are real dangers. That acknowledged I think the goal so important, healing our wounded hearts, as well as healing the world itself; we need to be willing to risk offense, and more. However we should undertake this only if we are willing to give our lives to the project, to avoid the shallows and instead to dive to the depths.

I’m fascinated to notice how this New Universalism continues to present itself, whether we like it or not. It presents, bidden or not. The question is how we meet it. This universal way should, I believe only be engaged with relentless honestly, and complete vulnerably. While the dangers are great, so is the reward. There is a still small voice in all of us, it really seems to me, that when we give up the noise we usually give ourselves over to, can be heard. It is the universal message of transforming love. This love is the key to our individual joy and the compass needle pointing to hope for the planet.

Love is the great mystery. I’m grateful for contemporary scientific inquiry into the origins of our thinking and emotions. I’m informed in many ways by the realities C. S. Lewis’ phrase the “grubby roots of our natural love” speaks to. (As an aside: Not trusting my memory for this phrase, I googled it and discovered I used it twice in past sermons. Turns out I reframed it slightly as the “grubby roots of our affections” and attributed it once and correctly to C. S. Lewis and, intriguingly, once to T. S. Eliot…)

But, here’s the real deal: it doesn’t matter how love came into our human company. It is here. We sit quietly and it rises. We meet another, and it manifests. We are raised up by it. We are brought down by it. I am not speaking of sentimentality, an imposter, a counterfeit of love. Love is powerful and dangerous. We are broken upon it. We are raised up by it. Love is a god, and it is good, if rarely nice. Love is the burning reality at the heart of our being. I suggest, I believe, fervently. Love is the way and the truth and the light. It is, I find, the beating living heart of the New Universalism.

And, here’s the great difficulty, our guides on the way of love are almost always rooted in specific traditions. For reasons small and great it turns out the universal is ever only known within the specific. So, the great teachers of love almost always stand in specific traditions. Now the list of these teachers of love is very long. It includes, just to name a small handful to show their range the Jewish sage the Bal Shem Tov, the Muslim Sufi Jelalludin Rumi, the Buddhist teacher Shinran Shonin, and very much, very much the Christian teacher Dame Julian of Norwich.

There are few certain details about her life. She was an Englishwoman born in 1342 and believed to have died around 1416. Even her name is uncertain. Some suggest Julian, generally considered a masculine name, came from the church where she lived as an anchoress, a type of hermit. She probably came from wealth. Perhaps she had been married and widowed, maybe twice. In her middle years during a life-threatening illness she had a series of sixteen visions regarding the person of Christ. She spent the rest of her life trying to understand what they meant.

At some point she had herself walled in behind the altar of the church of St Julian in Norwich, during a mass celebrated for the dead. While walled in for the rest of her life she nonetheless communicated with the outside world becoming a well-known spiritual director. The fruit of her teachings were contained in two versions of her Sixteen Showings (or Revelations) of Divine Love.

For our limited time together today, I want to explore briefly how we might engage this late medieval mystic, a person who lived a life most of us cannot even comprehend, who was informed by a type of Roman Catholicism that would be foreign even to contemporary practitioners of that faith. As alien as she is, as far away as she is, she actually does teach us, can guide us. If we are, I believe, a little humble about it, and at the same time a little critical. If we’re willing to throw our own hearts and minds open for the exercise; there is a lot here for us.

I was wandering the web searching for materials about Julian when I stumbled upon a site maintained by Irish Dominicans. I thought they showed us the how of open heart and mind. They quoted a passage from Julian’s writings.

Outwardly, [Adam] was clad humbly as a workman who was used to hard labour, and he stood very near the lord…. His clothing was a white tunic, thin, old and all soiled, stained with sweat of his body, tight fitting for him and short, as it were but a hand's width below the knee, undecorated, seeming as if it would soon be worn out, about to be turned to rags…. But inwardly in the servant was shown a foundation of love which he had for the lord which was equal to the love that the lord had for him….

The white tunic is [Jesus's] flesh; its thinness is that there was absolutely nothing separating the Godhead and humanity; the tightness of the tunic is poverty; the age is from Adam's wearing it; the staining of sweat, from Adam's toil; the shortness shows the servant's work. And thus I saw the Son standing, saying in his meaning, "Behold, my dear Father, I stand before you in Adam's tunic all ready to jump up and to run. I am willing to be on the earth to do your honour when it is your will to send me…."

By the fact that his tunic was at the point of being turned to rags and torn is understood the stripes and the scourges, the thorns and the nails, the pulling and the dragging, his tender flesh tearing….

The body was in the grave until Easter morning, and from that time on he lay down never more. Then was rightfully ended the wallowing and the writhing, the groaning and the moaning; and our mortal flesh that God's Son took upon himself (which was Adam's old tunic, tight, bare and short) then by our Saviour was made fair, new, white and bright, and of endless purity, wide and long….

No longer stands the Son before the Father as a servant fearfully, plainly clad, in part naked, but now he stands before the Father directly, richly clad in blessed ampleness, with a crown upon his head of precious richness (for it was shown that we are his crown, which crown is the Father's joy, the Son's honour, the Holy Spirit's pleasure, and endless marvellous bliss to all that are in heaven.

Not the easiest text. However I recommend sitting with it, sometime. It contains a lot to reflect on. But, it’s the Dominican’s midrash, their commentary that most caught me, and what I really want to share today. It’s unsigned, but it seems certain to have been composed by these Irish friars. Some one of their number writes how Julian “speaks of ‘Adam's tunic,’ by which she means human nature. It is worn by Adam, which means all of us ("in the sight of God all humankind is Adam and Adam is all humankind"), and of course by Jesus. Jesus wears our tunic, our human nature. This phrase of Julian's is a vivid image of our 'incorporation in Christ'.

“Today,” the friar observes, “we are inclined to think of the individual as the ultimate repository of meaning, a position that entails many bizarre as well as tragic consequences. The Christian sense of the Body of Christ (or the Mystical Body, as it has been called) is the real alternative. We could also speak of 'the Christ-mind', or 'the Christ-nature', as Buddhists speak of the Buddha-mind or the Buddha-nature.”

(That’s the Domincans.) I suggest the universal theme they’re naming variously Christ nature, the Body of Christ, Buddha-mind and Buddha-nature is the source, is what as it moves in the world is called love. Its expressed by Julian in her singular voice, informed by the traditions of her early fifteenth century life; but understood, best, I suggest, by us when we hear it informed by the many traditions, with the ears of the New Universalism. So, using “Buddha nature” helps us to break free and hear with new ears, to see with new eyes the once and future truth of our larger liberty. Doing this we tumble into a deep not knowing where that still small voice can finally be heard.

This is how the New Universalism begins to find expression. Here the signposts are placed for you and for me to follow our path home. Happily, it is a path well trodden before us by people who have laid out markers. All we need do is notice and walk.

The voice of the poet echoes again. My old teacher T. S. Eliot laughs and sings, and pushes his way back among our company. He insists on having the last word. So, how can I resist?

“We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time./Through the unknown, unremembered gate/When the last of earth left to discover/Is that which was the beginning;/At the source of the longest river/The voice of the hidden waterfall/And the children in the apple-tree/Not known, because not looked for/But heard, half-heard, in the stillness/Between two waves of the sea./Quick now, here, now, always—/A condition of complete simplicity/(Costing not less than everything)/And all shall be well and/All manner of thing shall be well/When the tongues of flame are in-folded/Into the crowned knot of fire/And the fire and the rose are one.”

Amen.

After You Die

After you die... Unstuck in Time After death, you will become unstuck in time, and re-live various moments of your life. Time will cease to exist. One moment you will be learning to catch butterflies, the next you will be using your walker to go to the bathroom. You will live on forever in this way, constantly reliving the sweetest and not so sweetest of moments.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

(Thank you, Druuid)

Neural Buddhists

A fascinating little think piece by New York Times columnist, and one of my favorite moderate right talking heads, David Brooks.

(Thank you Dosho!)

Sixteen Books

In an idle moment I sent off a request to a number of friends whom I admire for various reasons, but for the most part, because of their insight into the great matter of life and death. Largely they were Unitarian Universalist ministers or Zen teachers of one sort or another.

The request was for a single book that they recommended.

Well, as of this moment, sixteen have responded. Several complained of the limitation. Others ignored it and gave me a couple of titles. And others wanted to know why...

Well, the answer why is I had just created a little list of books I think are significant for one reason or another for an Amazon list. And I was curious what this band of people would recommend.

Some are exactly what I would have expected. Others, well, let's say I was surprised...

Certainly I found them intriguing enough to create another Amazon list.

Here are those first sixteen...

Hardcore Zen on Institutional Zen

Okay, okay, you can usually tell I'm writing a sermon by how many postings I make to this blog in a single day... Anything to avoid the actual work, it appears. I've even cooked up a rationale for this, explaining that this is how it works: A burst of energy! I write a while, fingers dancing across the key board. My brain freezes. I step away for a cuppa or perhaps to surf a bit among my favorite blogs and sites, maybe throw up a random firing of the synapses on my blog, then back to pound out another sentence, two or three on the sermon; before the brain freezes again...

Anyway, one of my favorite meanders is over to Hardcore Zen. Brad Warner is probably Western Zen's premier bad boy. (Well, maybe not. But of those who put themselves out in front of the world, he is...) He curses in print. He appears to write whatever off the top of his head. And, it is obvious from what he says he has a faulty internal governor. He claims he's not like this in real life. And I bet that's true; otherwise he wouldn't have very many friends.

He occasionally says unkind things about my flavor of Zen. But that's hardly a novelty at his site. He says unkind things about his flavor of Zen, too. And, lots and lots of other things.

And, he says things that are worth hearing. More often than not, in my estimation.

He's just fired off a post ostensibly critical of institutional Zen. Actually, by my read, he's criticising the inclination many spiritual practitioners have to pass on the nitty-gritty of one's actual life in order to play at something spiritual and otherly...

He picks a sad example that I've observed on more than one occasion and runs with it...

Warning: It contains both curse words and crudities:

http://hardcorezen.blogspot.com/2008/05/fuck-institutionalized-zen.html

Random Monkey Mind Ruminations on a Saturday Morning

I'm setting aside working my sermon for a few minutes to do a brief wrap up of ruminations on this week's events. Can't help myself.

So, please forgive some stream of consciousness...

First!

I'm so proud of California's supreme court for noticing the inherent inequality of preventing gay and lesbian people from marrying. Hurray for my home state! On the other hand the initiative system in California is a horror, and I'm quite worried. For two reasons. First, I believe that system is one of the grand examples of unintended consequences. Intended as a way to empower the people of the state it has become the tool of any special interest with deep pockets. Every year it requires deeper pockets to get one's "word" out. And sadly hate always seems to have scads of money. Second, this is an example of a cultural shift and the ugliness that can accompany such great events. When young people are polled, regardless of their political or religious affiliations, they tend to see "gay marriage" as a no-brainer. Just basic civil rights. But, the older generation is deeply conflicted and are generally willing to exercise the tyranny of the majority, all the while cursing the judicial system for enforcing the plain intent of equality upon which our entire web of laws is based.

Actually, there's a third concern that bubbles up for me. I'm just sick at heart that this may become the wedge issue the radical right is looking for this presidential election cycle. (Beyond, of course, the subtle appeals to racism that will become ubiquitous as the presidential 

campaign gets under way...)

Moving on: I'm certainly not surprised that President Bush has broken the traditions of our national political conversation and introduced language of appeasement and the spectre of Hitler into our domestic presidential campaign while pretending to address an international audience. That he has no shame is hardly news. That Senator McCain is happy to play along is probably not news, either. But, I keep thinking he would be better than that...

Regarding Burma, I'm so sorry for the suffering of the people. And, I wish with all my heart this wouldn't prove one more example of the evil of the military dictatorship ruling those good people. You know dictatorships are often sold on the basis they can make the trains run on time. Here those damned fools can't even do that...

And, last, just a few thoughts about China with reference to Tibet.

First, Tibet. There appears to be some groundswell among some people I look at on the web to question the Tibetan challenge to Chinese authority. They tend to follow the Chinese argument that the Tibetan government they toppled was a feudal theocracy. First, yes, Tibet was under the heel of a tyranny, and that it was religious only makes it the more odious. But here's what happened after the Chinese army marched into Tibet. Today Tibet has been reduced to being a colony, Lhasa is now a provincial Chinese city where Han Chinese outnumber the native Tibetans, who have, it appears, become the poorest people within the bounds of Chinese authority. Here's the ugly deal: by any reasonable standard a cultural genocide has occurred, and probably already succeeded. And please note. The Dalai Lama leads a resistance that is not even calling for independence, but rather only religious and cultural freedom and a measure of autonomy. 

Something you would think we could support.

Last, about the Chinese. As I follow the sad, sad stories of the consequences of the terrible earthquake, my heart goes out to the Chinese people. 

While I have little use for the fascist regime that rules China (There could be reams of reflection on how easily communism becomes fascism...) I have a deep and profound regard for China, its people, its cultural institutions and its religious history.

There is no doubt my personal religion runs directly back to and through China's heart.

My gratitude for the religious genius of the Chinese people can not be adequately expressed.

The gifts the Chinese people bring to the world are boundless and I believe with all my being will enrich the people of this planet throughout time.

May the Chinese people flourish. May they be free. May they find joy and prosperity.

Okay, okay; back to work...

Elizabeth Palmer Peabody

One of those small errors of historical fact that persists is how Henry David Thoreau produced the first English-language version of a Buddhist text. It was an English translation of a French translation of a chapter of the Lotus Sutra. The origin of this mistake was simple enough. The chapter was included in an 1844 edition of the Transcendentalist journal, the Dial. The chapter was unsigned. The editor of the journal at the time was Thoreau. He was well-known to be interested in matters Eastern. All it took was for a single writer to make the attribution, and it has been repeated endlessly.

In fact the mistake was quickly noticed and corrected. But, the correction has had to follow nearly endless repetition of the Thoreau attribution. And to this day there are people who innocently repeat how Thoreau produced the first English-language version of a Buddhist text in English.

In fact the author of that work was one of the remarkable Peabody sisters. Elizabeth Palmer Peabody was one of the intellectual and spiritual lights of mid-Nineteenth century Boston, which itself was a spiritual and intellectual center of the young Republic.

Elizabeth Palmer Peabody was born on this day in 1804. The litany of her accomplishments is long. Widely read and cultivated, after starting and running two schools, and would eventually open the first kindergarten in the United States. Elizabeth served as William Ellery Channing's private secretary for nine years. She transcribed his sermons, edited them, and saw them through publication. Continuing her interest in education she assisted Amos Bronson Alcott in his work. A central member of the Transcendentalist Club she brought her friends Jones Very and Nathaniel Hawthorne into the group. Her West Street bookstore became a center, not only for gatherings of the Transcendentalists, but of the whole of Boston's intellectual community.

She was a remarkable woman, a figure who should be remembered and celebrated.

By Unitarian Universalists, by western Buddhists, by all who stand in the Western liberal spiritual stream who care to know who are our spiritual ancestors...

Unitarian Universalist Association

In the middle of the nineteenth century Thomas Starr King, a Universalist minister who had been called to serve the Unitarian church in San Francisco was asked what the difference was between the Universalists and the Unitarians. To which King responded, "The one thinks God is too good to damn them forever, the other thinks they are too good to be damned forever."

While their theologies were nearly identical from the early part of the nineteenth century, both held a unitarian view of the divine and both believed in the eventual reconciliation of the whole world; still, it seems class remained the great impediment to institutional union. Universalists were small farmers, clerks in stores, and occasionally merchants. Unitarians were Boston's "brahmins," the leading lights economically and socially in Massachusetts.

It would take over a century and a half for a leveling that would allow the two streams of liberal religion to come together. (Although I think issues of class remain one of the hidden wounds of this wonderful religious tradition. I'll wait for another time to reflect on this, however...) Near the beginning of the twentieth century there were various schemes for religious liberals to join forces, including a delightfully wacky scheme to unite Unitarians, Universalists, Hicksite Quakers and Reformed Jews into a united Liberal Church. By the nineteen twenties Universalists and Unitarians began to find ways to cooperate institutionally, including merging their religious education programs.

And, then, finally, on this day in 1961, the American Unitarian Association and the Universalist Church of America consolidated, forming the Unitarian Universalist Association.

Over the last decades it has become a great bush under whose branches the many different birds of heaven have found a place to rest. May it continue to grow deep, may its branches become strong, and may be prove a roost for many wondrous creatures of spirit and love and justice...

Happy birthday, UUA!

On Civil Disobedience

Here's a question you may well know the answer to: What connects Henry David Thoreau, Mohandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr?

If you don't know, the answer is Thoreau's Resistance to Civil Government which was published on this day in 1849. Probably best known as On Civil Disobedience. Gandhi read it under the later title and incorporated that term "civil disobedience" into his own amazing work. King was, of course, inspired by both men, and very much by that little essay.

A revisit to this guide from and to our better angels might be a good thing...