BY BILL NEELY, MINISTER, NESHOBA UNITARIAN UNIVERSALIST CHURCH, MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE
The sign sits on the side of an interstate in between Little Rock and Hot Springs, Arkansas. It’s smaller than a billboard, but much bigger than a yard sale sign. It looks like someone could have made it in a garage and transported it to the site in a pickup truck, like the larger political signs that we see every election. It has big, black, block letters printed on a white background, making it easy to read, even from the interstate when moving along pretty quickly. It sits adjacent to a shopping area. There are other signs near it, signs that colorfully and vividly advertise stores, restaurants, and, if I remember correctly, a movie theater. In contrast to the inviting, optimistic energy of the surrounding business signs, the starkness of this other sign stands out—this other sign that reads, “Warning: Prepare to Meet God.” Imagine seeing that, driving down the interstate at 60-70 miles per hour. Kind of makes you worry about what’s around the next corner, doesn’t it?
I don’t know who put that sign up. There was no church within sight that seemed to own it. There was no web site at the bottom of the sign, no phone number to call, no address posted, and no worship times listed. It was anonymous—could have been anyone. Even with this anonymity, the message reinforces so much about the Holy that some of us have been warned of. Those of us raised outside of Unitarian Universalism may be familiar with the Holy that we are advised to fear. We know of that one. We’re told about it. Its image is used to coerce behavior. Its imagined wrath is celebrated in order to develop at least the appearance of something that fits some mode of morality. It’s the Holy of that seminal Jonathan Edwards sermon of 1741, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. In that sermon, highly influential both in its day and ever since, Edwards declares that humanity is so fallen and sinful, that God tenuously holds humankind over the pits of hell with angry hands, eager to let go. Edwards preached,
The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours.
Nice pastoral touch, huh? Edwards is actually more complicated than that sermon and deserves a closer look, but the point here is just to show that an image of a Holy that one should be warned about isn’t new or shocking. It’s been around for a while. It was common in Edwards’s time. It’s common now.
It’s worth noting, however, that a little over 100 years after Edwards preached that sermon, a sermon in which he reflected back generally held beliefs to his congregation, Universalism, the belief that no one burns in the pit of hell, had become widely accepted and quite popular in the USA. Universalism’s appeal was linked to the popularity of opposing doctrines. Angry God leads to loving God. That dynamic repeats itself. Love rises from hatred. Courage comes from fear. Out of judgment comes openness. Out of hatred comes tolerance. Out of other comes us.
There’s an aspect of that Universalism in the Hindu salutation “Namaste.” Namaste comes from Sanskrit. I’ve seen dozens of translations, everything from the simple, “I bow to you,” to those along lines that I’m more familiar with, “the divine in me knows the divine in you.” These varying translations arise partly from translating anything from Sanskrit to English. Sometimes there is more than one option for how a word can be translated. But it probably has more to do with the various contexts in which Namaste is used. It is sometimes offered as a simple greeting or common parting phrase. Or it can be offered as a statement of faith—the belief that a common divinity lives in each person.
That’s how I was introduced to Namaste, as a statement of faith that something divine lives in each person. I was in high school at the time and had attended a weekend-long Presbyterian youth gathering at the local YMCA. A girl I didn’t know then, but would come to later be friends with, passed out little pink cards, not as big as holiday cards, but bigger than business cards, with “Namaste,” handwritten in black, elegant, flowing calligraphy. Under “Namaste,” she had written, “the holy in me loves the holy in you.”
She was one of the popular girls. Even at youth cons, even in church camp, sometimes even in Sunday school, those cliques still existed. They weren’t as sharp as they were in high school, but they were still there. She was not in any of my groups. I tended to hang out with the theater folks, or the athletes who weren’t very good at sports, or the youth program leaders. Often we were in more than one group at the same time, but I was seldom, if ever, in the popular group, as she was. Thus, we didn’t really get to know each very well.
The card changed that a little bit, though, as after she gave it to me, and to everyone else, I began to see her in a different way. Not so much as someone in some group, but more as someone confident of her own holy center, and confident of mine as well. We didn’t seem to have much in common before she offered me Namaste, but after she did I believed that we did share something divine, beautiful, and powerful. I began acting that way. She already did. And we developed a friendship that lasted throughout our high school youth con and summer camp years.
I actually taped that card to the outside of my bedroom door, where it remained for a long time. My parents never mentioned it, but I imagine that it was nice for them to have their teen admit, at least in writing, that we shared something in common. We, um, well…focused on our differences quite often, so it must have been nice for them to see that pink card with the beautiful handwriting affirming a stronger commonality. I bet they didn’t even care that it was rooted in
Hinduism.
The common sacred center that Namaste speaks of, that affirmation of something divine springing forth in each person, calls us into new kinds of relationships with each other and with the Ultimate. We are called to affirm in each other a common place of worth, of value, of sacredness. That’s easier in some settings than others, but Namaste makes no differentiation between affirming a sacred center when it’s easy and when it’s hard. Natural or difficult, with people we like and people we can’t stand, with people who inspire us and people who anger us, Namaste demands a common level of appreciation for the other’s life and respect for the other’s integrity. Appreciation for and respect of our own lives demand it, for what we share in common is more important than what divides us.
Political party, nationality, race, religion, citizenship, sexual orientation, gender, all of those descriptive categories that define us as one thing and not another, all of them combined do not diminish the larger unifying presence of holiness in every one. For diversity to truly be virtuous, for diversity to be the fullest expression of the blessing that it can be, it must be held in a sense of unity. Namaste asks us to assume in the other what we hold most precious and dear in our lives. Not just when it’s easy. Particularly when it’s hard, Namaste asks us to seed kindness in the weeds of anger, to seed grace in the weeds of oppression, to seed understanding in the weeds of judgment. I think Namaste has a touchy-feely connotation in the larger world, as though it is reserved for blissful monks on mountaintops whose lives sing of serenity and peace. Maybe Namaste lives there, but Namaste also lives in the muck, in the division. When surrounded by people we love, in a community that holds us, Namaste is inspiring, refreshing, something to celebrate and affirm. But when surrounded by divisiveness, separation, the mean stuff of life, Namaste is a challenge, a tenuous prayer, a shaky ideal that we work toward more fully embodying.
“Warning: Prepare to Meet God.” For you will meet God in the love of your life, in the stranger asking for change, in the person frustrated with you, in your closest friends, in the caregiver holding your hand. You will meet the holy in the prisoner, in the sick, in the chatty toddler, in the disoriented elderly. You will meet the holy in songs of glee from ecstatic voices, and you will meet the holy in the dirges of grief. You will meet the holy today, tomorrow, and every day of your one precious life. And every time you meet the holy in another, you’ll come to know the holy in yourself a little better. You’ll find yourself more connected to, held with, and inspired by, the common gift of life than ever before. Your life will be transformed by an enlarging sense of community that transcends all that would divide us. “Warning?” … No, “Rejoice: For You Will Greet the Holy in Everyone You Meet.” And honor that holy in the other, in yourself, in all, affirming that the divinity we share is our greatest common
blessing.
