A weekly roundup of blogs and other user-generated web content about Unitarian Universalism, collected by uuworld.org. Find more UU blogs at UUpdates. Contact us at email@example.com.
Protecting half the children
Liz James is outraged by health policy that only offers the HPV vaccine—which prevents cancer—to young girls, and not to young boys.
“Why aren’t we vaccinating the boys?” I asked, when my son was a baby.
“If the girls are all vaccinated,” replied the public health lady patiently, “then it can’t spread.”
I’m sorry, whaaaaat????
. . . .We discovered how to prevent a horrible disease and then used that knowledge to protect only half of the children. (Rebel with a Labelmaker, September 17)
Witness on wheels
The Rev. Dr. Cynthia Landrum writes that this past General Assembly “missed the mark” for people using wheelchairs and scooters—particularly the Waterfire witness event.
In the end, it just really wasn’t an accessible event. . . . I think it would be more honest for the GA planners to say, “This big cornerstone event of GA just isn’t accessible,” and then for our gathered assembly to wrestle with the honest emotions of what it means to have a major part of GA that all of us don’t have access to. I think we could learn something from that exercise. . . . .
I’m hoping for the GA Planning Committee to learn that choosing a location and events so inaccessible isn’t simply “a necessary trade-off,” it’s an act of oppression. And I’m hoping that for future GAs, we can show real improvement both through stronger planning and through educating our attendees further. (Rev. Cyn, September 12)
The Rev. James Ford calls us to the “ordinary heroism” of a committed spiritual life.
An authentic spiritual life is not all beer and skittles. It takes discipline and perseverance. It is definitely counter-cultural, as it demands a constant presence in a culture that is pretty much all about distraction.
A genuine spiritual life is heroic in the sense of those qualities of nobility and perseverance that move us out of the ordinary. And yet, at the very same time, it is something accessible to all of us. Sort of an ordinary heroism. (Monkey Mind, September 16)
The Rev. Theresa Novak writes about spiritual earthquakes that leave us questioning everything.
Sometimes . . .
Beneath you moves
With such sudden violence
It knocks you down
Upon your knees
Around you falls
Shatters in an instant
Your foundation cracked
The ideas you have hung
So carefully on your wall
In ruins on the floor
With the everyday plates,
And holiday platters. (Sermons, Poems, and other Musings, September 18)
The Awakened Introvert is officially religiously unaffiliated, after a long connection to Unitarian Universalism.
I’ve finally reached the point where I am ready to step away from institutional religion completely. . . .
I consider myself a feminist spiritual contemplative naturalist. It’s more accurate, but much more of a mouthful to say, and much less able to fit into society’s boxes. I’m ready to own the process of my spiritual life and growth apart from anyone’s boxes.
So I sent a letter to my minister, gently extricating myself from church membership. I’m on my own now. I’m none of the above. I’m a solitary. A solitary what, I’m not sure. But I am a solitary. And I am gloriously, fabulously, joyfully, ecstatically happy. (The Awakened Introvert, September 18)
Motivations toward ministry
The Rev. Tom Schade begins a series of posts examining motivations for ministry.
Ministers often talk about their “call,” the time that they became conscious of the deep motivations which led them to the ministry. You have to recognize that the phrase, “the call” is theologically loaded. It remembers the call stories in the Bible, in which God calls people into His service. But people who are not into that concept of God still have deep motivations toward the ministry, and further, can often recall moments when they became aware of them: an experience which could be named a “call.” (The Lively Tradition, September 14)
The Rev. Cynthia Cain has scaled back her big, beginning dreams for ministry, and found a satisfying sense of purpose.
Twenty years ago, upon entering the ministry, I thought my purpose was to be a stellar UU minister, to do amazing social justice work, to help eliminate racism, to end child abuse . . . I had so many dreams! I had to scale back my big ideas one after one. I’m satisfied now with the work I’ve done, and I’m at a turning point as I enter a new decade and a new form of ministry. Now I’m a little more willing to let my purpose find me, and to be willing to listen when it does. (A Jersey Girl in Kentucky, September 18)
The Rev. Diane Dowgiert has suggestions for NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.
Call on the better angels of your owners, managers, coaches, and players that they may be leaders in bringing an end to the abuse of women and children in their most intimate relationships. (Transforming Times, September 17)
The Rev. Kate Lore blogs while riding the Climate Train.
There are many little things we can do to slow global warming. Skipping meat one day a week, for example, can reduce your carbon footprint by as much as not driving your car for an entire month. Using high efficiency appliances and vehicles can also help. But these small and important acts are not enough to counter the rising temperature of our planet. We need to engage entire nations in this work. They, in turn, can write the regulations we need to significantly lower CO2 emissions. (Rev. Lore Blog, September 17) [UU World has a selection of Lore's social media reports from the train.]
The Rev. Elizabeth Stevens urges members of her congregation to “march for survival.”
[Many] of us . . . feel disempowered by a political system where key players on all sides are in bed with big oil. It’s sort of like being on an out of control train, heading toward a deep ravine with no bridge. We know disaster is coming. We don’t know what to do to stop it.
Or at least . . . we didn’t know. Next week, world leaders are meeting at the United Nations for a Climate Summit. These are the folks who have the power to put on the brakes! In advance of the summit . . . . demonstrations are planned around the world. . . . This is the moment when our bodies, our participation in these events, can make a difference. (revehstevens, September 19)
Let our voices be a safe haven
When news stories spark conversations about domestic violence, Karen Johnston urges us to “let our voices be a safe haven.”
Let us remember who is in the room.
Let us be mindful of who is in the room when we speak, when we consider how and when to ask our questions. Let us be thoughtful when we speculate.
Let us be guided by facts and real-life testimony of survivors of violence and their allies that in most any public circumstance, in any gathering of people, there are survivors of domestic violence among us. They are us and we are them. (irrevspeckay, September 11)
Thirteen years ago
The Rev. James Ford comments that it’s hard to believe it’s been thirteen years since the September 11 attacks.
Today, these thirteen years later, at home we’ve come to be divided even more than we were before, something I’d not thought possible if asked in about it on 9/10.
And in the relentless play of causality even a president who came into office in significant part on the promise to extricate us from the morass looks to be forced into a fight with a truly horrific child birthed out of the whole dirty mess.
Blood poured upon blood. (Monkey Mind, September 11)
The Rev. Lynn Ungar acknowledges that we have responded to the 9/11 attacks by choosing security over freedom.
When the World Trade Center towers came down. . . . everything changed, because we had to come face to face with the reality that loss on such a grand scale really could camp out on our very doorstep.
And then we had to figure out how to respond. Would we build back our personal defenses through going on attack, following the illusion that we could simply exterminate everyone who was a possible threat? . . . . Why yes, we would.
Because anything is better than simply dwelling in the knowledge that we are not safe, that the horrors which befall any one of us could befall all of us, that loss lurks around every corner. (Quest for Meaning, September 11)
The just-world fallacy
The Rev. Dr. Cynthia Landrum examines the just-world fallacy in the context of leaked celebrity photos and the death of Michael Brown.
What happened to Jennifer Lawrence was a crime. Her privacy was invaded, her digital material stolen, her pictures shared without her consent. What happened to Michael Brown was horribly wrong, and no unarmed person deserves to be shot by the police. We’re pushing back against the bully culture and the rape culture, too, that tell us that the victims deserved what they got.
[Your] disease, your misfortune, crime perpetuated against you—these are not what you deserve. The Just-World perspective is a fallacy. You have inherent worth and dignity, you are worthy of love, you deserve a good and happy life. (Loved for Who You Are, September 8)
Effort, engagement, and success
The Rev. Joanna Fontaine Crawford wonders, “When did ‘pet project’ become an insult in UU churches?”
What if, rather than trying to get 40 participants for one program, we instead equipped and empowered 40 members to go out and each one follow their own passion? Maybe we gave them meeting space or maybe even a little seed money. Maybe all we did was cheer them on, and offer them the shared wisdom of all the other church members who were changing the world in their own particular calls. (The Lively Tradition, September 11)
The Rev. Dan Harper responds to a blog post about moving beyond the simple congregational metric of average worship attendance.
Odom’s blog post ends with him wishing that he “could go back to the good old days and track a couple of different numbers.” I don’t share his nostalgia—I’m fascinated by the ongoing evolution of congregations, and I love the opportunities for creativity we now have.
How about you? What metrics would you use to figure out how your congregation is doing? (Yet Another Unitarian Universalist, September 9)
The Rev. Dawn Cooley, drawing on her experience with roller derby, asks, “What are our stinky pads,” the evidence of our hard work?
On the one hand, I see evidence of our liberal religious effort all over the place. . . . Of course, just providing space is not enough—a roller derby team can provide practice times, but if no one shows up, no effort is put in. So then I wonder: Are people attending these events, workshops and opportunities provided by various liberal religious entities? Are they showing up and putting in effort? If so, then I think that this is one way that we can see evidence of “faithful sweat stains.”
But this does not seem sufficient—we need an outward component as well. (The Lively Tradition, September 10)
The Rev. Tamara Lebak struggles to be calm when she gets a flat—driving on the highway, with her young daughter in the back seat.
It is nearly impossible to hide an emotion when in cognitive or emotional overload. You will inevitably leak. It seeps out in our voice or in a nearly imperceptible micro-expression that warns others of our emotional world even if they don’t know exactly what they saw. On the one hand I want Beckett to be able to identify and articulate what she is feeling when she is feeling it and I would like to model that. I don’t want her to hide her feelings. On the other hand I do not need her upset when I am trying to dodge oncoming cars. I had a job to do. (Under the Collar in Oklahoma, September 9)
Using—and protecting—the web
The Rev. Amy Zucker Morgenstern encourages us to help protect net neutrality.
I have loved living in this age, seeing the internet grow from nonexistent, to a seldom-used novelty, to the central part of our lives it is now. It’s how I do research, meet new people, share my daughter’s childhood with faraway family and friends; it’s my ongoing university, workshop, and studio; it’s how I met my wife. I hate to picture looking back on this as the long-gone heyday of the internet. I don’t want to tell my daughter, as she works with a much different network of channeled and ranked information, “Let me tell you about 2014, when the internet was still neutral.” (Sermons in Stones, September 10)
Katy Schmidt Carpman uses “the interdependent web” to facilitate a long-distance, surprise donut delivery.
The blessings of a single donut have rippled through the week. Favors and laughter and networking and sugary sweetness—it’s all good. (Remembering Attention, September 10)
The good, the hard, the song
Visiting her parents after her father has had two strokes, Kari Kopnick finds solace in song.
The song most present for me today is . . . “All Will Be Well” by the Rev. Meg Barnhouse and while it’s not in any of our hymnals (yet!), it is one of the best songs for keeping on keeping on when things are hard. I have plucked my way through the chorus of this on my guitar, teaching it to groups of children and adults—and they have told me that it helps. It helps. It does.
All will be well, all will be well all manner of things—will be well. (Chalice Spark, August 28)
Lane Campbell writes about the self-destructive habit of comparing herself to others.
I am someone who often measures my own accomplishments next to colleagues. I take a look at what they are doing on their websites and in social media. I listen to colleagues at professional events and wonder why I am not doing more. Why am I not like them?!
It is a way of shaming myself. I look at what others are doing and revisit those feats and accomplishments as a source of why I am not good enough at my job, at my work-life balance, at being a family member—the list could continue. (Loved for Who You Are, September 1)
Jordinn Nelson Long shares the struggles—and joys—of homeschooling her gifted, complicated son.
Babies come shrouded in mystery, and between that and the beauty that blinds and the strengths that draw our gaze away from the weaknesses and the love that’s so big it’s unspeakable and the fear—O, God, the fear—it is hard. It is a difficulty both daily and eternal to see in our child’s face not our dreams but their reality.
But here is truth, and I dare to speak it, not in resignation but in acceptance—an acceptance of what is that kindles a realistic hope for what may come. I speak, I believe, in the truest love I know: Soeren is not a normal kid. Our baby is not what we expected.
And we love him and we are grateful for the gift of him and we are deeply excited at the learning that he is doing. (Raising Faith, September 2)
The Rev. Cynthia Cain understands the rage at the center of the movie Calvary.
As someone who has lived with the knowledge of childhood sexual abuse committed by a family member, as well as a clergywoman who has listened to countless stories of childhood victimization, I am deeply aware of the toll of this transgression upon the victims. I actually understand the rage that could be so all consuming it could make an otherwise peaceful person resort to violence. (Jersey Girl in Kentucky, September 4)
Kenny Wiley has depression, and is young and black; these basic truths of his existence have a lot in common.
That feeling—that people are okay with knowing that you have depression, as long as you don’t talk about it—mirrors some of what blackness has meant in the post-civil rights era.
It’s okay that I have blackness, as long as I don’t talk about it, or “act black” in any way. (A Full Day, September 2)
Lessons learned—or not
Doug Muder wonders whether we will learn from the national trauma of Michael Brown’s death—or forget it with the next news cycle.
In part, that decision is up to all of us. Will we let the things we’ve learned these last few weeks slip away like the trig identities we crammed into our heads for the big math test? Or will we hang on to our new understandings and not settle back into the same old conversations? Will we demand that our news sources and our political representatives recognize these realities? Or not? (The Weekly Sift, September 1)
The Rev. Elizabeth Stevens shares some of the lessons she learned from a visit to Ferguson.
Lesson One: Don’t believe what you see on television. I expected to witness chaos, devastation, and drama. Instead, I saw a community coming together to try to address deep systemic issues and individuals trying to get back to their normal lives. (revehstevens, September 4)
Kim Hampton believes UU responses to events like Michael Brown’s death are haunted by the Black Empowerment Controversy.
[Our] cousins in the UCC have many ministers of color and congregations comprised primarily of people of color. So do the Disciples (yes, they are cousins too). So what has impeded Unitarian Universalism?
. . . Will we see [racial bias] only as something that is happening outside of our congregations and not look at the way that what is happening outside of our congregations is being played out in our congregations too?
(East of Midnight, September 3)
Britton Gildersleeve compares Puritan and Quaker beliefs about why bad and good things happen.
Suffice to say: Puritans believed in the inherent evil of human beings; Quakers believed in the inherent good. If you were a Puritan and good things happened to you, God was showing favour. If bad things happened? It was your own fault. . . .
If you get tased by a cop, Puritans would say, it’s YOUR fault. NOT the fault of the racially paranoid clerk at the store, or the racially motivated police. Yours, even if you’re following the law. After all, if you’re black? God must not love you as much. Or something. (Beginner’s Mind, August 29)
The Rev. Meredith Garmon examines three contemporary perspectives on faith, including this one by Buddhist teacher Sharon Salzberg.
Faith is stepping, jumping, skipping, leaping, somersaulting right into the middle of possibilities for how we might evolve and for what goodness might burst forth. Faith’s opposite, then, is not doubt, but despairing withdrawal. (The Liberal Pulpit, August 29)
Claire Curole encounters opportunities to think about Postmodern theology while on vacation in Maine.
I ought, perhaps, to have used the camera more on vacation. Then I could pass round a picture and say, this here? this is what the post-Modern critique of Modernism looks like. It has weathered cedar shingles and a faded sign and a whimsical piece of folk art in the window, and it is open every day but only until four o’clock. It smells of salt and old fish and road tar. It is around the corner from a vacant boarded-up sardine cannery with a crumbling concrete dock and across the street from an empty lot where a set of granite stairs leads to nothing. Post-Modernism has a soft, cynical chuckle at Modernism’s notions of progress because progress is motion and motion means “away from here” and post-Modernism knows that “here” will still be here when the big houses burn down or sag on their sills until they collapse under their own unmaintained weight.
Post-Modernism paints flowers where they will not grow, because it can. (Sand Hill Diary, August 31)
Quitting the NFL
The Rev. Adam Tierney-Eliot quits the NFL, after a turning point watching a game last season.
I saw a wealthy old billionaire high-fiving his billionaire friends while his employees permanently damaged their heads, spines, legs and backs in pursuit of…something. On the sideline was the caricature of the sort of horrible, screaming, obscene middle-aged suburban dad most of us try not to become at youth sporting events. I asked myself if I wanted to be the sort of person who condones this. The answer, it turned out, was “no.” (Burbania Posts, September 3)