Beyond Repair?
Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
October 16, 2022
Rev. Craig M. Nowak
They say, “less is more.” And that may be true. That is, of course, until it isn’t.
In a sermon published in 1853, Theodore Parker, a famously outspoken Unitarian minister and fierce abolitionist said, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.”
A little more than a century later, Parker’s words were immortalized through a concise paraphrase made by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” And it is those words, most of us, Unitarian Universalist or not, are more familiar with today. And that’s unfortunate, for with the passage of time, and as the memory of Dr. King’s hard and often dispiriting work for justice has been surpassed by his optimistic words, much has been lost in translation.
Indeed, by itself, absent any awareness of Dr. King’s efforts and that of the civil rights movement of his era, his much loved and often repeated quote implies a world on autopilot with justice the inevitable destination; salvation by faith alone. Indeed, how often have you heard or said yourself, “True, the world’s not perfect, but it’s better than it used to be.” I’ve certainly said that more than a few times myself.
Yet today, the world in which we live, heating up both literally through climate change and metaphorically through socio-political strife, seems not better, but increasingly fractured leaving many of us to wonder, is the world beyond repair?
The moral arc of the universe bends alright, but towards justice? From today’s headlines to hurricanes, that seems less sure than ever before.
Now, this is the point at which the activist in some of us, spurred on by our own impatience, anxiety or both, will jump in to insist the arc does bend towards justice but it is we who have to do the bending; salvation by works.
Still, today there are probably more organizations engaged in justice work than at any other time in human history. My mailboxes, the one attached to my house and the electronic one with which I have a love/hate relationship both regularly fill with requests for donations, signatures, and support for one worthy cause or another. And while I may only respond to a fraction of the requests, I and lots of others nonetheless pull on that arc all the time, trying like hell to bend it toward justice.
The issue, it seems, is not simply a question of faith versus works. Indeed as the author of James reminds us the two are inextricably linked, “…I by my works will show you my faith.”
Rather, the issue would seem one of conscience. Listen again to Theodore Parker’s words, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.”
Parker’s original words reveal and indeed place much less emphasis on inspiring a spirit of certainty and optimism than Dr. King’s paraphrase. Instead, Parker presses his audience to consider what justice, divined by conscience, looks like. His concern is not merely faith or works or the work they inspire, but vision. Indeed, his words do not cheer but challenge.
As do the words of Adam Lawrence Dyer, author of our second reading, “White House”.
It is a common refrain among white people, even well-intentioned progressives, to counter or inject conversations on race and racism with statements like, “you can’t change history”, “I didn’t enslave anyone”, or “my ancestors were abolitionists.” To this Dyer responds with unsettling clarity, “This white house….was built with black hands.”
Dyers words reminds us that when it comes to race and racism defenses intended to distance ourselves from it actually reveal we’re so close we don’t even see it.
If we are to divine, by conscience, the arc of the moral universe, we must first pull back, take in a larger view, and own our position, our shared history, the one we may not have personally created but whose narrative and resulting structure we nonetheless benefit from. In doing so we are likely to encounter release, but not necessarily relief (at least not a first). Indeed, we may, for the first time, feel the woundedness at the center of all injustice. As we heard in our call to worship, ”You can only heal a broken heart through allowing it to open again.”
Opening our heart makes us vulnerable to pain, our own and that of others. Indeed, any vision of justice requires spiritual open heart surgery undertaken not with assurance of success, but in faith that no heart is beyond repair, that only “a closed heart remains a wounded heart.”
What emerges from this spiritual open heart surgery can point us toward a vision of justice, something toward which we aspire to bend the arc of the moral universe. Within Unitarian Universalism, and as alluded to in Adam Lawrence Dyer’s poem, dismantling White Supremacy has emerged as one such guide.
Now, the very term can be hard to hear, especially for those who have yet to step back from the habit of defending oneself against hearing more. Even those of us who have committed ourselves to keep listening may bristle at a term which calls up images of Nazis, the KKK, Confederate flags, and the like. Further, some of us are taken aback because while white we may also be part of other marginalized and oppressed groups. Still for other’s the mythos of the American spirit, of rugged individualism and our fabled meritocracy completely obscures the reality and workings of racial privilege. Privilege of course, being another misunderstood and consequently much maligned word.
One of the best summations of White Supremacy I have found comes from Cir L’Bert, Jr. who notes, “White Supremacy is best understood as an ideology, a belief system…not an action or effect or even a culture.” Essentially White Supremacy is an ideology that locates Europe as the origin of human civilization and culture and centers the white male as the standard against which all others are measured and are seen to deviate.
Reinforced socially both subtly and by force through political, educational, religious, and legal institutions it has resulted in a white centric culture. A culture whose legacy here, in part, includes the transatlantic slave trade, the Fugitive Slave Acts, the Indian Removal Act, the Black Codes, the Chinese Exclusion Act, Jim Crow, and Anti-Miscegenation laws.
Now some take all this to mean being white is bad or that white people should feel guilty.
Not so.
Being white is not bad. And dismantling White Supremacy is not about societal change compelled by a sense of guilt from white people. It is about recognizing an ideology of superiority that is wrong, has caused harm, and must be dismantled in order to realize any vision of justice we talk about. It is an effort compelled by a sense of shared humanity not guilt.
Today, it is fidelity to our first principle, “to affirm and promote the inherent worthy and dignity of all people”, not self-loathing, that calls Unitarian
Universalists to search our conscience and live our faith through works that will usher in a more equitable and just world. To “build a land” as the hymn goes, but in the spirit of the prophets Isaiah and Amos, rather than the doctrines of religious exceptionalism or manifest destiny. To build a land, together, not taken from another. And a land where siblings in spirit, transformed by love, not only brothers and sisters anointed by a select deity, create peace.
And it is work already underway in forms great and small- which we may not always recognize- from singing hymns using more inclusive lyrics, and with new understanding, or in another language, to topics taken up in book club and coffee hour conversations, and addressed through the selection of liturgical materials. And then there’s the efforts of CESA (Committee for Ecology and Social Action) here at BUUC as well as individuals and organizations beyond our walls supporting educational opportunities, voting rights, criminal justice reform, and reparations.
At the same time, we’ve got a long way to go. Indeed, the times in which we live are also hard and heart-wrenching. We have seen democracy’s seemingly solid foundation crack under the weight of insurrection. We have witnessed rights that were a given withdrawn by the highest court on the land. Battles are being waged to ban LGBTQ+ affirming books in libraries. And school districts have become the latest front in the defense of White Supremacy.
I imagine Theodore Parker, a white man and minister, at a time when that profession was still held in high esteem, could foresee neither the progress nor regression that has followed his lifetime, let alone the various paths taken toward each. Indeed, by his own admission, his vision was limited,“my eye reaches but little ways”, he said.
Knowing this, he looked not to the events of his own time, as seemingly beyond repair as our own, but to his conscience to inform his faith and plot the course of action it demanded of him.
In these uncertain times, we’d do well to remember Parker’s humble confession, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe.” And, buoyed by our call to worship, “Many battles may be lost but you are not broken and you are not your wounds.”, let us resolve to consult neither despair nor optimism, which rise and recede like waves across the ever changing sea of time, but our conscience to inform and animate our faith along the arc toward justice.
May it be so.
Amen and Blessed Be
Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
October 16, 2022
Rev. Craig M. Nowak
They say, “less is more.” And that may be true. That is, of course, until it isn’t.
In a sermon published in 1853, Theodore Parker, a famously outspoken Unitarian minister and fierce abolitionist said, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.”
A little more than a century later, Parker’s words were immortalized through a concise paraphrase made by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” And it is those words, most of us, Unitarian Universalist or not, are more familiar with today. And that’s unfortunate, for with the passage of time, and as the memory of Dr. King’s hard and often dispiriting work for justice has been surpassed by his optimistic words, much has been lost in translation.
Indeed, by itself, absent any awareness of Dr. King’s efforts and that of the civil rights movement of his era, his much loved and often repeated quote implies a world on autopilot with justice the inevitable destination; salvation by faith alone. Indeed, how often have you heard or said yourself, “True, the world’s not perfect, but it’s better than it used to be.” I’ve certainly said that more than a few times myself.
Yet today, the world in which we live, heating up both literally through climate change and metaphorically through socio-political strife, seems not better, but increasingly fractured leaving many of us to wonder, is the world beyond repair?
The moral arc of the universe bends alright, but towards justice? From today’s headlines to hurricanes, that seems less sure than ever before.
Now, this is the point at which the activist in some of us, spurred on by our own impatience, anxiety or both, will jump in to insist the arc does bend towards justice but it is we who have to do the bending; salvation by works.
Still, today there are probably more organizations engaged in justice work than at any other time in human history. My mailboxes, the one attached to my house and the electronic one with which I have a love/hate relationship both regularly fill with requests for donations, signatures, and support for one worthy cause or another. And while I may only respond to a fraction of the requests, I and lots of others nonetheless pull on that arc all the time, trying like hell to bend it toward justice.
The issue, it seems, is not simply a question of faith versus works. Indeed as the author of James reminds us the two are inextricably linked, “…I by my works will show you my faith.”
Rather, the issue would seem one of conscience. Listen again to Theodore Parker’s words, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.”
Parker’s original words reveal and indeed place much less emphasis on inspiring a spirit of certainty and optimism than Dr. King’s paraphrase. Instead, Parker presses his audience to consider what justice, divined by conscience, looks like. His concern is not merely faith or works or the work they inspire, but vision. Indeed, his words do not cheer but challenge.
As do the words of Adam Lawrence Dyer, author of our second reading, “White House”.
It is a common refrain among white people, even well-intentioned progressives, to counter or inject conversations on race and racism with statements like, “you can’t change history”, “I didn’t enslave anyone”, or “my ancestors were abolitionists.” To this Dyer responds with unsettling clarity, “This white house….was built with black hands.”
Dyers words reminds us that when it comes to race and racism defenses intended to distance ourselves from it actually reveal we’re so close we don’t even see it.
If we are to divine, by conscience, the arc of the moral universe, we must first pull back, take in a larger view, and own our position, our shared history, the one we may not have personally created but whose narrative and resulting structure we nonetheless benefit from. In doing so we are likely to encounter release, but not necessarily relief (at least not a first). Indeed, we may, for the first time, feel the woundedness at the center of all injustice. As we heard in our call to worship, ”You can only heal a broken heart through allowing it to open again.”
Opening our heart makes us vulnerable to pain, our own and that of others. Indeed, any vision of justice requires spiritual open heart surgery undertaken not with assurance of success, but in faith that no heart is beyond repair, that only “a closed heart remains a wounded heart.”
What emerges from this spiritual open heart surgery can point us toward a vision of justice, something toward which we aspire to bend the arc of the moral universe. Within Unitarian Universalism, and as alluded to in Adam Lawrence Dyer’s poem, dismantling White Supremacy has emerged as one such guide.
Now, the very term can be hard to hear, especially for those who have yet to step back from the habit of defending oneself against hearing more. Even those of us who have committed ourselves to keep listening may bristle at a term which calls up images of Nazis, the KKK, Confederate flags, and the like. Further, some of us are taken aback because while white we may also be part of other marginalized and oppressed groups. Still for other’s the mythos of the American spirit, of rugged individualism and our fabled meritocracy completely obscures the reality and workings of racial privilege. Privilege of course, being another misunderstood and consequently much maligned word.
One of the best summations of White Supremacy I have found comes from Cir L’Bert, Jr. who notes, “White Supremacy is best understood as an ideology, a belief system…not an action or effect or even a culture.” Essentially White Supremacy is an ideology that locates Europe as the origin of human civilization and culture and centers the white male as the standard against which all others are measured and are seen to deviate.
Reinforced socially both subtly and by force through political, educational, religious, and legal institutions it has resulted in a white centric culture. A culture whose legacy here, in part, includes the transatlantic slave trade, the Fugitive Slave Acts, the Indian Removal Act, the Black Codes, the Chinese Exclusion Act, Jim Crow, and Anti-Miscegenation laws.
Now some take all this to mean being white is bad or that white people should feel guilty.
Not so.
Being white is not bad. And dismantling White Supremacy is not about societal change compelled by a sense of guilt from white people. It is about recognizing an ideology of superiority that is wrong, has caused harm, and must be dismantled in order to realize any vision of justice we talk about. It is an effort compelled by a sense of shared humanity not guilt.
Today, it is fidelity to our first principle, “to affirm and promote the inherent worthy and dignity of all people”, not self-loathing, that calls Unitarian
Universalists to search our conscience and live our faith through works that will usher in a more equitable and just world. To “build a land” as the hymn goes, but in the spirit of the prophets Isaiah and Amos, rather than the doctrines of religious exceptionalism or manifest destiny. To build a land, together, not taken from another. And a land where siblings in spirit, transformed by love, not only brothers and sisters anointed by a select deity, create peace.
And it is work already underway in forms great and small- which we may not always recognize- from singing hymns using more inclusive lyrics, and with new understanding, or in another language, to topics taken up in book club and coffee hour conversations, and addressed through the selection of liturgical materials. And then there’s the efforts of CESA (Committee for Ecology and Social Action) here at BUUC as well as individuals and organizations beyond our walls supporting educational opportunities, voting rights, criminal justice reform, and reparations.
At the same time, we’ve got a long way to go. Indeed, the times in which we live are also hard and heart-wrenching. We have seen democracy’s seemingly solid foundation crack under the weight of insurrection. We have witnessed rights that were a given withdrawn by the highest court on the land. Battles are being waged to ban LGBTQ+ affirming books in libraries. And school districts have become the latest front in the defense of White Supremacy.
I imagine Theodore Parker, a white man and minister, at a time when that profession was still held in high esteem, could foresee neither the progress nor regression that has followed his lifetime, let alone the various paths taken toward each. Indeed, by his own admission, his vision was limited,“my eye reaches but little ways”, he said.
Knowing this, he looked not to the events of his own time, as seemingly beyond repair as our own, but to his conscience to inform his faith and plot the course of action it demanded of him.
In these uncertain times, we’d do well to remember Parker’s humble confession, “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe.” And, buoyed by our call to worship, “Many battles may be lost but you are not broken and you are not your wounds.”, let us resolve to consult neither despair nor optimism, which rise and recede like waves across the ever changing sea of time, but our conscience to inform and animate our faith along the arc toward justice.
May it be so.
Amen and Blessed Be