|
| |
Red, White and UU
A Sermon Given
by Rev. Cynthia L. G. Kane
on August 3, 2003
at Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
Bethesda, Maryland
Reading
The American Commitment: from "About Being an American"
delivered at All Souls Unitarian Church, Washington, DC, on 26 May 1946
A. Powell Davies
The American commitment is to universal justice, the rights
for all people, not the special interests of some. It is a commitment to fair
play, to patience, to tolerance, to neighborliness. It is a commitment to the
common good. It protects liberty with unity, the opportunity of each with the
good of all. It is compassionate, humanitarian. It believes in humanity and in
its future. It is the Golden Rule. It is based upon the claim of conscience
and the faith in goodness. It begins not in a system but within the heart.
It battles prejudice and false opinion. It seeks the truth.
It is opposed to barriers of exclusiveness. Its principles are universal. It
despises cowardice, including moral cowardice. But it also has no use for
obstinacy, inflexibility, and intolerance. It prefers honesty to cleverness,
kindness to self-sufficiency, goodwill to narrow-minded aims. It is a way of
life now and a faith, a vision of the future. It is a purpose to be served.
If anyone asks by what right I define these characteristics
as American, I point him [sic] to those Americans the rest of us revere as
great. I say that America is defined by the moral progress she has sought, and
by exemplars, not by the hour of perfidy and by her little-minded, greedy
foes.
And if anyone tells me that these characteristics are more
than American, that they are universal, I will reply that that is why they are
American. Because this nation was not founded on the divisive and the
separate, but upon the rights of all people. Can we restore these standards?
Can we seek again the touch of greatness?
The future will depend upon the answer. Upon what takes
place in heart and conscience. A nation, like an individual, must have a soul.
A. Powell Davies, Without Apology: Collected Meditations
on Liberal Religion, ed. Forrester Church (Boston: Skinner House, 1998),
p. 75f.
Prayer
Adapted from Donald Szantho Harrington
Cynthia L. G. Kane
God, whom each of us knows in our own way, yet the same in
each of our hearts:
We pray that we may be brought closer this day to the
meaning of life, and especially to the meaning and significance of our own
lives.
Help us to be true, not to crushing conformities which
surround and smother us, but to our inner light.
May we speak the truth this day without fear, knowing that
we are free souls.
May we stand up for what is right and just, no matter how
our actions may be construed by others, because justice is the flame that
burns within our conscience, and it must be our guides.
May we love the cause of humankind and strive for a better
life for all people, because in love of one another is the solace for
loneliness and the true significance of love.
Help us, God, to find the way to wholeness and peace out of
our own heart's yearning, so we may be one with all that is holy, sacred, and
divine.
This we humbly pray.
Amen.
Sermon
"So help me God." These are words I say all the time. Much like the
chaplain who noticed a young boy staring up at a large plaque that hung
in the foyer of the chapel. The plaque contained several names and small
American flags mounted on either side of it. The boy had been staring at the
plaque for some time, so the chaplain walked up, stood beside him and said
quietly, "Good morning."
"Good morning, Chaplain," replied the boy, still focused on the plaque. He
asked, "Chaplain, what is this?"
"Well, son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the
service."
Soberly, they stood together, staring at the large plaque. The boy's voice
was barely audible, trembling with fear, when he asked, "Which service, the 9
o'clock or the 11 o'clock?"
We come here this morning, as stated in our opening words, "to renew our
faith…and to reaffirm the way of the open mind and full heart…to reclaim the
vision of an earth made fair, with all her people one."2 And we do
so in the "wondrous gift of free religious community." A wondrous gift,
indeed, for ours is a faith grounded in the virtues of justice, liberty, and
charity. Our faith—like that of "The American Commitment" which we heard in
this morning's reading by A. Powell Davies—is committed "to the common good."3
So help us, God…or whatever it is that binds you to an authority greater than
yourself…whatever it is you call upon in times of need for strength, comfort,
wisdom, guidance…whatever it is you know to be holy, sacred, and divine…
I come before you this morning in an interesting position of being a
Unitarian Universalist minister serving in the military. So helped by God
through much soul searching and a circuitous route, this is a position into
which I did not go easily, or directly.
I was commissioned to the Chaplain Corps of the United States Navy on 21
August 2001. My call to Naval Chaplaincy came sixteen years ago during my
sophomore year of college. A calling I kept quiet, for I did not understand
it. Nor did it make sense to me, for a variety of reasons.
First and foremost, I am a pacifist. There are assorted pacifist individual
and group schools of thought:4 some object international war,
though advocate revolution for suppressed nationalities; others object
offensive, not defensive war; and still others object all war, though support
maintaining a police force. I was among the camp that objected to all coercive
and disciplinary force.
The goal of pacifism is total, enduring peace. And I maintained then (as I
still do today) that violence only begets violence. So I wondered how could I
be a part of an institution whose mission seems counter to the "advocacy of
opposition to war through individual or collective action against militarism"5
I was born and raised in the Midwestern United States. I grew up with no
exposure to or experience of fighting or hostility. I was a child during Viet
Nam, and my parents and family were neither engaged with nor seemingly
affected by the happenings both here and abroad. The only war I knew was that
of the Cold War.6 In my budding adolescent/young-adult mind, the
Cold War was greatest war ever. While political tension existed between the
United States and the former Soviet Union, there was no open, armed conflict;
just a grand show of our missiles being bigger than theirs.
Knowing we humans have been fighting one another since the beginning of
time and it was unlikely in my—in our—lifetime that we would ever see all
human hostilities completely calmed, this type of Cold Warfare posturing
seemed progress in achieving peace. Thus, my initial reservations of being a
pacifist and being in the military abated. Be it naVveté
or denial, in all honesty, it never occurred to me that there would be a
full-on war.
The other, equally challenging, issue I had was a matter of faith. Ours is
a faith that "is opposed to barriers of exclusiveness" and "battles prejudice
and false opinion."7 As Unitarian Universalists we are devoted to
diversity and dismantling oppressions. So I wondered, how could I be a part of
an institution whose policies are counter to our Unitarian Universalist faith
that affirms and promotes the inherent worth and dignity of every person? How
could I willingly affiliate with an institution that maintains discriminating
policies? An institution that prohibits women from serving in certain arenas,
and prohibits gay men and lesbians from serving openly.
All institutions have their flaws. All institutions have a spotted history,
parts of which would like to be ignored, if not omitted. And part of the
military's questionable past has been discriminating policies—policies enacted
by our Congress and embraced by our military—policies, for instance, against
Black Americans and women.
Black Americans and women have been a part of every
American war since the American Revolution. Yet for some time, both groups
were prohibited—in part or in full—from military service. Blacks were commonly
assigned to manual labor. Women served in silence, disguising themselves as
men to hide their identities; once permitted to serve, women were assigned to
the administrative jobs. Neither group was able to be in a combatant role.
Both were discharged when the war ended.
Similarly, in 1993, Congress enacted the "Don't Ask, Don't
Tell, Don't Pursue, Don't Harass" policy; its name describes what military
members are prohibited from doing. Regardless of sexual orientation and rank,
military personnel are not allowed to ask if a person is gay or lesbian, nor
are they allowed to they tell if they are. Nor are military personnel allowed
to purse investigation into or harass anyone they might suspect or otherwise
know is gay or lesbian. Considering Congress' previous position about gay men
and lesbians serving in the military—which there was no set policy—this
policy, despite its flaws, was progress.
As Unitarian theologian James Luther Adams notes,
"Revelation is continuous." Congress eventually had its own revelation, and
saw fit to change the prejudicial policies concerning race and gender.
Congress likewise has the authority to lift the ban on gay men and lesbians
serving openly in our military. Though military officials might support "Don't
Ask, Don't Tell," it is our responsibility to tell our Senators and
Representatives how we feel about legislations—particularly ones that are
counter to our faith that affirms and promotes equity and acceptance of one
another. "We the people" have the power to facilitate the process of
revelation. So while "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" remains, I have faith in our
Unitarian Universalist commitment and our "American Commitment…to universal
justice [and to] the rights for all people." So help us God.
"So help me God." These were the last words I—along with
countless men and women for 228 years—spoke as a civilian, and the first ones
as a member of our United States military. Words I spoke emphatically, for I
knew I needed to call upon something greater than myself following my call to
Navy Chaplaincy and to help fulfill this awesome and daunting commitment I
made to ministering to the spiritual needs of the men and women in our armed
forces.
The oath that I took—and all military personnel take—upon
entering the service is similar to that taken by our Presidents, other
government officials, and those becoming U.S. citizens: to "support and defend
the Constitution of the United States" and to "bear true faith and allegiance
to the same. So help [us] God." Each of us volunteered to be a part of
something much bigger than ourselves, uphold and protect the ideals in our
Constitution. And each of us sealed the deal with the prayerful plea, seeking
divine aid in our endeavors.
Our Constitution is a document full of wise practical
detail, embodying the famous principle of the "separation of powers": federal
authority divided equally between an executive, legislative, and judicial
branch; each one keeping the other in check and in balance. The first ten
amendments—the Bill of Rights—guarantee individual civil liberties. The first
of these is:
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment
of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the
freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceable to
assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."
This Amendment guarantees freedom for people to maintain
their religious belief and practice, for people to hold their own thoughts and
opinions, for people to express their convictions. These are the very
principles we as Unitarian Universalists hold sacred. Some of the most
prominent apostles of free religious inquiry—John Adams, Benjamin Franklin,
and Thomas Jefferson—greatly influenced the formation of our Constitution. So
for me, there is perfect integrity in being a Unitarian Universalist and
serving in the military; the institution whose sole purpose it to support,
defend, and bear allegiance to the U.S. Constitution. It is just like
supporting, defending, and bearing allegiance to our Principles and Purposes.
Likewise, I believe that any patriotic American is able to find a home in
Unitarian Universalism, for the principles of our faith are embedded within
the very foundation of our nation and its ideals.
As a member of the military, however, I tell you from
experience—both professionally and personally—it is not so easy to be at home
in our movement. This is why during Divinity School I kept my intentions to go
into the Navy Chaplaincy a secret. At the graduation ceremony, our future
plans were announced, and it was there and then my intentions were disclosed.
I was outed! My colleagues and classmates were confrontational and condemning.
"You're going into the military? How can you be both, a UU and
in the military?" they would ask. "I'll let you know once I find out," I would
reply. Twenty-one days after my commissioning were the September 11th,
2001, terrorist attacks, and I began to find out.
There is a schism between being a member of the military
and a Unitarian Universalist. That September, I shook my fist at an impassive
heaven, protesting to God, "You said nothing about a war!" Meanwhile,
the same colleagues who earlier criticized me began protesting the prospects
of war, yet sought me out to shake my hand and say, "Thank God there's one of
us in there."
As the tension in our world increased, so too did the
tension felt by our Unitarian Universalist military personnel. Here is an
excerpt from an email I received from the only UU family on my base:
"I have found it very hard lately to be UU and go to my
church being a military wife. The attitude towards the military is certainly
better now that 30 years ago, but still it is hard… It is like walking a
very thin line. And it seems at time you can't be both things, UU and part
of the military. Both look down on you for not supporting itself sometimes."
During Operation Iraqi Freedom, I received several other
emails. This excerpt is from written by a Navy Commander—who, along with his
wife, had been an active member of his congregation—wondering what to do about
this tension and opposition:
"I have…trouble dealing with the UUA's position that,
essentially, it has no position…while all information the UUA puts out is
clearly opposed to this war and to any other use of the U.S. armed forces,
in war or peace, under any circumstances. [Therefore] I have a lot of
trouble doing anything that would remotely support the UUA. I say this with
considerable discomfort, because I think [our movement] should have a strong
denominational voice…and because I take what I see as our religious
principles very seriously…
I have been very disturbed to see the UUA's token effort
to care for service members turned into an attack on them. That has
happened to me..."
The Unitarian Church in Norfolk, Virginia—located in the
same city as the Atlantic Fleet Headquarters and the largest operating Navy
base in the United States—has a congregation with approximately 10% military
personnel. As their minister, the Rev. Danny Reed, noted in the past issue of
the UU World:
"Nobody said [our congregants who serve in the military]
weren't welcome, but there is so much opposition to what they do. One
soldier said he seeks church as a refuge: He takes the notion of sanctuary
seriously to be fortified for the week ahead. But as he walks through the
door somebody flips him a leaflet about the peace march that afternoon."8
Granted, the U.S. Constitution guarantees the right for
someone to distribute such literature, and to do so wherever they so choose.
Though, as one colleague who works with Planned Parenthood commented, it is no
different than if someone—who knows of this colleague's work with a women's
right to choose—were handed a Pro-Life leaflet by one of her congregants.
"It's proselytizing," she claims, in a place she considers spiritually safe
and sustaining.
Please don't get me wrong here. I am not saying it is wrong
for a person to express their opinions or deeply held convictions. Rather,
what I am calling for is sensitivity. Sensitivity and
open-mindedness—especially to people with differing views and practices. After
all, is this not the essence of Unitarian Universalism? Freedom, reason, and
tolerance. Is not our commitment "to fair play, to patience…to
neighborliness"?9
I also am calling for recognition. Recognition of our own
struggles and our own biases. Our faith is "not founded on the divisive
and the separate," yet there are certain ways we need to "restore these
standards." 10
Mostly, I also am calling for understanding. Understanding
that we who have made the choice to serve in the military have done so for our
own particular reasons. Though initially my call to Navy Chaplaincy did not
make sense, it does to me now: Since conflict and fighting have been a part of
human history since the beginning of time, then for me to do the work of
peace, I must understand the making of war.
So in this lifetime, I am doing what I am called to do:
affirm and promote the goal of world community, with peace, liberty, and
justice for all. So too are we, the member congregations of the Unitarian
Universalist Association. Our commitment is that of the American Commitment: a
commitment to "a way of life now and a faith, a vision of the future"?11
"The future will depend upon…what takes place in heart and
conscience," concludes Davies. "A nation, like an individual, must have a
soul." We—you and I—we are a part of our nation's soul. We too are patriots
who cherish the rights and privileges of this country. And we too support and
defend her ideals through the very practice of our faith. Our country needs
us. And we, in the military, need you. So help us God.
May God bless the whole world, no exceptions. In so doing,
may God bless the UUA.
Amen.
ENDNOTES
1 With thanks to the Rev.
Victoria Weinstein for loaning me the title of this sermon. As well, I am
grateful for her presence as a sounding board, sound advisor, and
tranquilizer.
2 David Pohl, "We Come to
This Time and Place," Singing the Living Tradition (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1993), Opening Words, number 436.
3 A. Powell Davies, "The
American Commitment," Without Apology: Collected Mediations on Liberal
Religion, Forrester Church, ed. (Boston: Skinner House, 1998), p. 75f.
4 "Pacifism," The Columbia
Viking Desk Encyclopedia, II, 2nd ed. (New York: Viking Press,
1960) p. 994.
5 Ibid.
6 The
Nixon-Carter-Reagan-Bush#1/Brezhnev-Andropov-Chernenko-Gorbachev Cold War.
7 Davies, p. 75.
8 Danny Reed quoted in Neil
Shister, "Embattled Faith," UUWorld, July/August 2003, p. 18.
9 Davies, p. 75.
10 Ibid.
11 Ibid.
Office@CedarLane.org
|
