One’s-Self I sing—a simple, separate Person;
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-masse.
Of Physiology from top to toe I sing;
Not Physiognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for
the muse—I say the Form complete is worthier far;
The Female equally with the Male I sing.
Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful—for freest action form’d, under the laws divine,
The Modern One I sing.
Walt Whitman
I. Me. How sweet the words. The movement of Western thought, particularly from the Renaissance down to our present has been to acknowledge and cherish the value of the individual. This is good, profoundly so. And over the last several centuries this realization has even become a theological principle. Nowhere has this been a truer understanding than within the liberal churches that birthed our Universalist and Unitarian faith.
No wonder an acknowledgment of the preciousness of the individual is the first of our current Statement of Principles and Purposes. I find this a living and vital sense among us. Our congregations are the place to come just as we are; with our wounds and sorrows, our triumphs and joys. More than once I’ve found the church community has been the place where I most find my individuality honored. And I’ve seen this joyful acceptance happen for many others, as well.
At its best our church is a place of unconditional love.
There must be boundaries, of course. Love demands coherence and acceptance. It also sometimes challenges and suggests change. But the starting place is respect and, I really believe, love for each of us as we are. The spiritual community is where I can be myself, restricted only by respect for others. There are too few places in this world where such is true. But it is so within our free congregations.
Yet there is even more offered within our congregation. I’ve just suggested that possibility of challenge and invitation to change. I frequently think of the image of the interdependent web—which I find to be the most compelling picture within our association, a theological symbol worthy of considerable exploration, explication and meditation. When I imagine the web, I often picture myself at the center with threads streaming out to the rest of creation.
Of course, we all experience this feeling of centrality, and I believe this image reflects the way things truly are. We all must live our lives as centers of the universe, with all the weight such a thought conveys. But I really believe there is more to us than simply being a center of things. And the image of the interdependent web tells us how. The startling and disturbing and ultimately comforting truth is there are many, many centers of the universe.
There are discrete persons and things. We are separate and unique. The strands of connection go out from us as individuals. But, they also come in to us. We all are in fact the meeting of those many strands coming from the whole of the cosmos. Some are more obvious than others; our genetics, our family situation, the nation within which we are born. Others are less obviously so, such as our connections to the shimmering web of life on this planet. And perhaps subtly but truly, I believe these strands extend even to the stars and planets spinning through the darkness of space.
We are genuinely connected to all things through the web of relationships. We are relatives to the stars. Our family name is the cosmos. Through those strands of causal connection, some strong, some weak, we really are connected.
Our individuality is not only supported, but created by our connections to each other and the world. The secret is this: we exist as individuals only within relationship. As we realize this the possibilities of transformation loom large. At such moments of knowing how we are connected we may discover the truths of pleroma, the ancient gnostic term meaning “fullness.” We can find the fullness of the divine cosmos.
Certainly out of this reflection on our true nature we must sing of our selves. It is a beautiful note, a unique note. But for that note to become a song, it must find other notes that harmonize and give counterpoint, that shade and give nuance. I suggest our church is such a song, itself a part of a greater symphony. And so the great mystery: In togetherness we can best find our individuality, our fullness.
It is this exaltation of the individual within our community that is very much at the core of our church.
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