My Credo
Sermon preached by Reverend Carolyn Patierno
October 22, 2006

I begin with a cautionary reminder regarding the nature of this sermon topic: quite a few of you have heard it all.  If you’ve been a part of this congregation for the past five years, you’ve heard me preach on all of the big theological questions that we pose to the youth who pass through our coming of age program – which is how I thought I would structure and share my own credo.  Among those questions are the following: Who is God?  What is the meaning of good and evil?  What is your relationship to Unitarian Universalism?  I’ve preached all of those sermons previously, a number of them several times over and certainly you hear my ongoing perspective in sermons that concern related topics. 

Nevertheless, I promised you a credo and by gum, you’ll get one.  But before you do there’s this …

I have to say, that I’ve been surprised at the unusual amount of interest in this service.  Truth be told, I had been having serious second thoughts for reasons I just shared. “Oy,” I thought, “as if every sermon I preach wasn’t already filtered through my credo.  As if they don’t hear all about it three Sundays of the month.”  And then as this day drew closer, something intriguing began to happen.  From you, I began to hear different variations of, “OH!  I’m really looking forward to hearing what you’re going to say!”  I wondered what that was all about.  So now, in addition to the credo, you’re going to hear the outcome of all the wondering.

First, two thoughts:

In her book, Leaving Church, A Memoir of Faith, Episcopalian priest, Barbara Brown Taylor recalls something a seminary professor explained to her about the clergy’s life.  He said, “You probably won’t be much worse than other people and you certainly won’t be any better, but you will have to let people look at you.  You will have to let them see you as you are.”  

The second thought comes in the form of a story:

Several years ago I preached a sermon on Afghanistan.  It was an intense experience, researching, writing, and preaching that sermon.  After the service, Carol Fenn came through the receiving line.  Now, I love Carol Fenn and I’m always interested in hearing her insights.   So when she earnestly pulled me toward her I was surprised when she said this, “Carolyn, you need to put a barrette in your hair.”  A little befuddled, I said, “Carol, what about Afghanistan?  The sermon?  Anything?” “Oh,” she said, “it was very nice.  But you need to get the hair out of your face.”  The next Sunday, I stepped into the pulpit and made quite a show of pulling a blue rhinestone encrusted clip out of my pocket and sweeping my hair back and up into the barrette.  I looked straight out at Carol Fenn who gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

I love this story.  I love it so much that soon after I shared it with a few of my district colleagues, one of whom was male.  With just a tad of self-righteousness he pointed out that no one would ever tell him that he needed to pull his hair back.  Horrified at the suggestion of sexism, I sputtered, “Oh, but that’s not the point ….”  I was saved by another of my colleagues who said, very simply, “This congregant was only saying, ‘Carolyn, I want to see you.’”

Well, that’s part of what we set out to do here – to recognize in each other our authenticity.   To see each other as we are.  We are none of us any better or worse than the others.  But we all crave recognition – the “I see you” the “I want to see you.” of religious community.  And part of that is sharing our credos with each other implicitly and explicitly.  For me, that means being explicit this morning. 

As well, perhaps the interest in this sermon is really about what you may hope for in a relationship to your minister.  So let me say this - today and every Sunday and all the days in between, I hope that as you recognize the places where we meet as well as the places where we diverge that you will also recognize the foundation that we hold in common – those common threads of our Unitarian Universalist history named as reason, freedom, and tolerance. 

And finally, one final thing to ponder before the credo. 

In preparing for this sermon I went back and re-read many of the sermons I referenced earlier.   And as is always the case, something unexpected emerged.  Although I have been serving this congregation since 2001, the first sermon in which I explicitly and particularly talked about my personal theology did not happen until 2003.  It was a sermon series on God.  Some of you may remember that the first part considered God in the world with particular attention paid to the rise of fundamentalism.  Part II dealt with God in our religious movement and in our lives.  It was in that sermon that I shared some of my own feeling about God. 

The first sermon I preached to this congregation was entitled, “It Matters What We Believe.”  I’ve referred to this particular reading enough that by now, those of you who have been at All Souls for any length of time, know the importance I place on the UU  principle that encourages “the free and responsible search for truth and meaning.”  Yet, every time I have shared a particular belief, I have had to lean heavily on the trust that we have earned and created between us.  It does matter what we believe but it sharing what we believe with each other demands a willingness to risk. 

So, thank you for the trust you place in me as I embark on summing up my credo.

When I entered into conversation with you during the search process, I described my personal theology as humanistic theism.  I don’t consider that a contradiction but rather a balance.  I believe in human agency and I believe in a mystery beyond knowing that I identify as God. 

In that first sermon I preached about God I leaned heavily on Karen Armstrong’s book, The Battle for God.  I described for you Armstrong’s distinction between logos & mythos.  When I preached that sermon I shared the following:

Mythos and logos are two distinct ways of understanding the world.  Mythos may be understood as "a mode of knowledge rooted in silence and intuitive insight which gives meaning to life but which cannot be explained in rational terms."  Of myth Armstrong says, "Myth only became reality when it was embodied in cult, rituals, and ceremonies which worked aesthetically upon worshippers, evoking within them a sense of sacred significance and enabling them to apprehend the deeper currents of existence." 

On the other hand, logos is rational, logical, and scientific discourse. Then and now, logos allows us to actually function in the world. Logos is practical. … In the premodern world, logos was understood as complementary to mythos.  Each was indispensable in order to lead a balanced life. 

That is the balance for which I strive. 

I believe that naming and describing God is an impossible task that is taken on by human beings because our imaginations are limited.  Hindu philosophy acknowledges this shortcoming and explains quite frankly that the human forms that we mortals hang on God are only so we can wrap our minds around a concept that is unexplainable. 

But the human features of the Judeo Christian God have never resonated for me.  For me, God is the mystery.  God is the answer we cannot fathom or find to questions formed and unformed.  God is love.  God is the Spirit of Life we name in hymn 123.  God is what I lean on when I’m tired, when I’m weak, when I’m worn – as another hymn says.  

And as a minister who is committed to growing our tradition and sharing its beauty with those who have yet to find us and yet feel a yearning for something to fill a void, I find that language useful. 

My brand of theism is heavily influenced by a humanist sensibility.  In a 2004 sermon I shared part of the text of the 1933 Humanist Manifesto.   I share it again today: 

Religions have always been means for realizing the highest values of life. … While this age does owe a vast debt to the traditional religions, it is nonetheless obvious that any religion that can hope to be a synthesizing and dynamic force for today must be shaped for the needs of this age.  To establish such a religion is a major necessity of the present.

A Unitarian Universalist theology is presumed to shift over time based on the “needs of the age.”  This aspect of humanism is one that colors my personal theology and faith journey.

In 2004 I preached a sermon on prayer.  (Thereafter, a prayer has been part and parcel of our Sunday service.) In that sermon I said:

Like you, I have myself asked these questions -   Who or what exactly am I praying to?  Aren’t I responsible for my own destiny?  What does prayer mean? 

Here’s my short response to those questions:  I don’t think it matters a whit  to whom or what pray.  And yes, for the most part, human agency plays the most significant role in our lives.  The rest is a matter of grace.   (Grace being fodder for another sermon all together.) And finally, prayer means we seek the stillness. 

Prayer is the tender language of the heart.  Prayer is to clear space in our too crowded minds.  Prayer is to set apart time in overscheduled lives.  Prayer is to stand in solidarity with those who suffer.  Prayer is to remind ourselves that it’s not all about us.  Prayer is a way for us to dedicate our children.  A way of blessing as we commit to love and to cherish them.  Prayer is a way for us to bury our dead.  A way of blessing as we commit to continue to love and cherish their memory.   Prayer is to strengthen that which is vulnerable.  Prayer is to give thanks and praise for all creation in its stunning design and beauty.

Last spring I contemplated the matter of evil during a sermon series on Gandhi, Tolstoy and their philosophies on truth and evil.  I continue to struggle with the place and naming of evil in our world and in our lives.  Walter Wink, a theologian for whom I have great respect, did illuminate my thinking.  He wrote:

To engage evil is a spiritual act because it will require of us the rare courage to face our own most ancient and intractable evils within.

Gandhi also said as much.  I have taken to looking inwardly to the ways that my own shortcomings within lend themselves to the systemic evil we witness here and throughout the world.  For example, I have wondered how my own actions or lack thereof, have said to my government that the evil that is now legalized torture is somehow acceptable. 

Another sermon lives in that thought.

Poetry is the art that most reliably gives voice to my credo.   Garrison Keillor just edited a collection of poems that’s entitled, Good Poems for Hard Times.  In the introduction he writes, “Poetry is church.  What animates poetry is faith.”  In a newsletter column a year ago I quoted the Irish playwright, Samuel Becket who said that “All poetry is prayer.”  To which I say, Amen & Amen.

It was the poem Welcoming Morning by Anne Sexton that led me to adopt gratitude as a daily spiritual practice.  In my newsletter column one year ago, I shared that poem as well as my decision that my life would be a lived prayer of gratitude.  Steady, focused, recognizing, and remembering - each day  - that each day is for thanksgiving.   I understand gratitude to be at the center of all the moments that make up a day.  Gratitude offers us perspective.  Even when the day is long and I am weary, gratitude helps me to endure. 

And so it has and so it does.  I took the opportunity to thank you in that column.  And so I take that same opportunity now  -  again.  Thank you for your trust.

So, there it is: a significant portion of my credo - as close to a Unitarian Universalist systematic theology as I could compose.

I’ll end on this note.  This past week, I was a panelist at a leadership conference convened by the Chamber of Commerce.  In the discussion that followed a participant asked me what most inspires me.  Similarly, William Ellery Channing once suggested that the way to truly know a person is to pose the following question:   “What thoughts and feelings predominate, stand out most distinctly and give a hue and impulse to the common actions of the mind?” 

The feeling that predominates and inspires me is my love for the tradition that I represent and practice.  I said this past spring that our time has come … that Unitarian Universalism is the religion that so well responds to the needs of the post-modern world in which we live. 

In the end, I identify as a faithful, religious Unitarian Universalist.   I am heartbroken at the vile misuse of religion in our world as I understand religion’s purpose in that way that was described in the responsive reading we shared together.  Religion as a call to generous action …. A dissatisfaction with things that are … the sorrow that opens for us the way of sympathy, the lure of that which is only partly known and understood, it is security and serenity because of its truth and beauty … a discovering of opportunities to express our best though daily tasks … a prospect of the better life for humankind.

Which is where you come in.  As I stated at the top, I have a pulpit that offers me opportunity to share my credo in a unique manner on a consistent basis.  But you have a pulpit, too.  Your life is your pulpit.  Preach wisely, friends.  The religious life is a great responsibility.

Amen.

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