BY BARBARA MERRITT, SENIOR MINISTER, FIRST UNITARIAN CHURCH, WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS
For obvious reasons, my organized religion “of choice” is Unitarian Universalism. I have found a spiritual home in our Association, where my skepticism, my active mind, my instinctive distrust of dogma and ritual, and my Universalist understanding of a loving, merciful God are no obstacle to an ongoing search for truth.
And yet there are times when my heart is deeply moved by the traditions of other faiths. At Christmas and Easter, it is Christian theology that speaks to me most clearly about life and death and the resurrections that are possible after betrayal and suffering. When I want to understand my relationship with the earth and its beauty, Native American traditions are most eloquent. For instruction on non-violence, I look to Buddhism. When it comes to loving God, the Bhakti tradition of Hinduism is most expressive. For a greater appreciation of acceptance and persistence, I study the Tao. And my congregation knows how fond I am of that sarcastic saint and dramatic mystic, Rumi, a Sufi Muslim.
This time of year, I wish I were a Jew. The Jewish New Year comes to the northern hemisphere in the fall, a natural time for reflection and goal setting.
The secular Western New Years’ celebration in January doesn’t help me. I fail to see how a drunken party, or a list of almost guaranteed-to-fail unrealistic resolutions, can usher in a new spirit, or a more meaningful engagement with life.
But Jews, as they move through the high holidays, through Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, have a discipline of prayer, reflection and repentance. They hold out the right questions about what we have accomplished thus far with our lives. Questions like “Have we made the most of our opportunities to serve and to comfort?” “Have we fulfilled all of our promises and obligations?” “Have we done things that we are ashamed of?” At their religious New Year, Jews are called upon “to repay, to repair, and to ask forgiveness.”
In the book Days of Awe, Eric Kimmel tells the Hasidic story told by Rabbi Zusya:
When I am called to give a final account before the Heavenly Throne, I am not afraid of being asked, “Why were you not like Abraham?” for then I will answer, “Because I am not Abraham.” And if I am asked why was I not like Moses, I can answer, “Because I am not Moses.” But if I am asked, “Why were you not like Zusya?” what will I say then?
This is an extraordinary insight. We must take responsibility for who we are; using the unique gifts and strengths we possess, and generously sharing our wealth with those in need; honestly confronting our own failings and admitting our own weakness; and praying, if we will, to a merciful God for atonement (at-one-ment) and peace.
In one of my favorite books, The Spirituality of Imperfection, the authors Kurtz and Ketcham write about what is involved when we “take responsibility for our own lives.” They say:
To truly forgive means to let go of the feeling of resentment, and of the vision that underlies that feeling, the vision of self-as-victim…. Blaming others falls away. If we have been injured, we no longer experience the injury as a barrier to relationship. (How can we expect anyone else to be perfect if we ourselves are imperfect?) Spirituality’s mutuality holds true here as everywhere; we are forgiven only if we are open to forgiving.
You may not be hearing the shofar in the weeks ahead, but as we Unitarian Universalists start up our own new year as a religious community, we would do well to take in some of the spirit that is moving in neighboring synagogues. It is a good way to begin the year, to take the awesome responsibility to be who we were meant to be. I know no better way to encourage that process than with the spiritual disciplines of forgiveness and prayer, and the practice of compassion toward others.
For obvious reasons, my organized religion “of choice” is Unitarian Universalism. I have found a spiritual home in our Association, where my skepticism, my active mind, my instinctive distrust of dogma and ritual, and my Universalist understanding of a loving, merciful God are no obstacle to an ongoing search for truth.