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Fall 2002
Historic Site
A dozen miles southeast of downtown Boston, in Weymouth, there
is a small parking lot at the corner of Washington and Prospect
Streets, across from a Dunkin’ Donuts. The original meeting
house of the First Universalist Society stood there from 1839 until
destroyed by fire in 1938. Every time I drive by I glance at the
lot and in my mind’s eye I see a historical marker. “FIRST
WOMAN MINISTER,” it announces in big letters. Smaller text
below says, “Olympia Brown, first woman to achieve full ministerial
standing in any denomination in the United States, served here,
1864-69.”
No actual historical marker is there. And with the site currently
owned by the Archdiocese of Boston, and even discussion of women’s
ordination prohibited by the Vatican, I don’t expect to see
a marker installed any time soon.
Looming over the tiny lot is huge Sacred Heart Church. Unlike the
Universalist building that once stood next door, it is not owned
by the people who worship there. It too is owned by the Archdiocese.
But the Archdiocese doesn’t own the people. Despite the silencing,
women’s ordination is frequently discussed among Catholics,
with a large majority now in favor. A priest I knew for the last
eighteen years of his life, who grew up in Sacred Heart Parish,
began his career strongly opposed to women’s ordination but
ended it strongly in favor.
I am convinced that, unless the Catholic Church disintegrates like
the Soviet Union, the day will eventually come when there are female
Catholic priests. One day the pastor of Sacred Heart may be a woman.
And if that day comes I hope that, as she is showing around a new
curate who is also female, the pastor’s sense of sisterhood
will outweigh her sectarianism and she will point out the tiny parking
lot and say excitedly, “This is where Olympia Brown, the first
woman minister, served!”
If that day comes, it won’t matter if the site has a marker
or not.
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Fall 2002
Doesn’t This Say It All?
Sign observed in front of a Universalist-heritage church in a
small Southern town in which all the other churches are Baptist:
Cushioned Pews and No Hell |
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Winter 2002
Rescuing Jesus from Christianity
Religions need heroes, and stories. At one time Jesus was a hero
for most UUs, and stories about and by him were a principal source
of inspiration. The UU movement needs to take Jesus back, in a way
thinking people can accept. Universalism is well-equipped to help
with this, because its Declaration of Faith embraces both liberal
Christian and Humanist principles. “We avow our faith,”
it says, in “the spiritual leadership of Jesus,” but
also in “the authority of truth, known or to be known.”
Here’s an example. The following story is from the gospel
of Mark, a collection of tall tales about Jesus that nevertheless
have a basis in fact.
A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling said to him, “If
you choose, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus
stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I
do choose. Be made clean!” Immediately the leprosy left
him, and he was made clean. (1:40-42, NRSV)
Many UU refugees from mainstream Christianity, remembering how
they were expected to accept the entire story as literally true,
understandably close their ears to the story now. But it’s
not hard to separate fact from fiction. In ancient times “leprosy”
was a general term for a wide variety of disfiguring skin diseases.
The man could have had psoriasis, for example, and his condition
actually could have improved over the next few days. But the point
of the story lies elsewhere. People were terrified of lepers. Lepers
had to live outside of town and, when walking on a public road,
had to ring a bell to warn others to stay away. Lepers were untouchable,
lonely outcasts. When Jesus touched the leper, the man’s illness
may not have immediately disappeared, but the man must have immediately
felt better, emotionally--he had been accepted by a leader revered
in the community. The point of the story is that Jesus’ vision
of a radically egalitarian, earthly “Kingdom of God”
inspired him to go to extraordinary lengths to make people feel
included. |
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Winter 2002
You Become What You Eat
In 1961, when the Unitarian and Universalist denominations combined,
the Universalists--less prosperous, less educated, less confident,
and outnumbered five to one--were afraid of being swallowed up.
For a while it looked as if their fears were justified. Both of
the Universalist seminaries were closed. The Universalist Service
Committee was dissolved (and “Universalist” tacked onto
the name of the Unitarian Service Committee). And in town after
town, once the Universalist church had gamely changed its name to
“Unitarian Universalist” church, people started calling
it “the Unitarian church.” “There are no more
Universalists,” one man said. “We’re all Unitarians
now.”
In a way he was right. “Unitarian Universalist” is
a mouthful, and it’s hard not to shorten it to “Unitarian”
(though more and more of us are learning to say “UU”
instead). But in another way, the reverse is true--we’re all
Universalists now. As Dick Fewkes, minister emeritus of the First
Parish in Norwell remarked, “You become what you eat.”
Unitarianism was about freedom, reason, and tolerance. Universalism
held those values too, but emphasized instead what it called “the
supreme worth of every human personality.” God loves everybody,
Universalists said. God’s love is universal.
This central Universalist sentiment has become the defining characteristic
of our combined movement. It’s the first of the UU “Principles.”
It’s on the UUA home page. It’s on 25 Beacon Street
stationery. Some of us may say we’re “Unitarians,”
but we’re Unitarian Universalists. You become what
you eat.
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Winter 2002
Universalist Chutzpah
Hosea Ballou, leader of the Universalist denomination for the first
half of the 19th century, was in his younger days a “circuit-rider,”
spending long hours on horseback traveling from town to town to
preach the Universalist gospel. One day he was riding with a Baptist
circuit-rider who happened to be headed in the same direction, and
the two passed the time in friendly theological debate.
The Baptist was flabbergasted to learn that Universalists didn't
believe in a God who would condemn people to eternal hellfire. “Why,
if I were a Universalist,” the Baptist said, “I could
knock you over the head, ride off with your money and horse, and
have nothing to worry about!”
“If you were a Universalist,” replied Ballou, “the
thought would never even occur to you.” |
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