General Assembly opened this evening with its usual celebratory zeal. I’m attempting to come back with a video report for you all when we reconvene after Labor Day. Below is a very quick clip of some of what I’ve got so far. Blink, and you’ll miss our very own Leo Rose marching the UULA banner in the traditional opening banner parade.

ga2010blog1

Lots to come in just a few days. I’ll try to post more as we go along.

“. . . the very word ‘religion’ comes from a Latin root that means to tie, to bind. Ultimately what ties us together, what makes us a religion, a united people, is what we love. Religion, our religion, is what we truly care about, what we want to preserve, embrace, and create.”—“The ‘It’ Church” by the Rev. Peter Morales, UUA president, in UU World, Spring 2010 (http://uuworld.org/life/articles/158390.shtml)

The question is asked of us all the time: “Is Unitarian Universalism a religion?”

Many of us are quick to jump on the bandwagon of either side of what seems to be a “yes or no” question. Usually, our answers have a lot to do with our own personal relationship with that loaded little word, “religion.” Those comfortable with the presumably traditional idea of “being religious” are more likely to say “yes” than those who are more critical of religion or count themselves among the crowd who consider themselves “spiritual, but not religious.”

I think where we get stuck in this conversation is around that traditional idea of what “religion” means. Belief in a deity, a creedal checklist, some sort of stark moral absolutism—all of this is wrapped up in what many people hear when they hear the word “religion.” And while that is certainly a definition of religion, it is not the only definition. As Rev. Morales notes in his column in the current UU World, and as every first year seminarian hears ad nauseum, “religion” derives from the Latin—to bind together. Religion, then, at its best is the practice of connection. If there is anything truly sacred in this world, it is the connections between us – those we know, and those we don’t yet know. Or, as the residents of Grovers Corners refrain throughout Thornton Wilder’s classic Our Town, “Blessed be the ties that bind.”

I’ve told newcomers for years that Unitarian Universalism is a religion, but not a religion that stresses what to believe. Rather, we focus on how we should be together. You’ve heard me preach about the importance of how we “walk together,” and that it’s action—the empirically observable output of belief—that matters more than language. Beyond action, though, is what Rev. Morales has to offer. The answer to the question “What do we love?” may be even more important than the question of how we act. Unitarian Universalism is the religion that asks not “what do we believe?” but “what do we love?”

As we explore what it means to “celebrate diversity in belief, and seek unity in action,” it is perhaps the question of what we truly love that points us in that direction of unity. That is my question for meditation over these summer months. I invite you to ponder it with me.

What do we love?

…

“Summer Blockbusters” returns in June and July. We had a lot of fun with the series last year. If you didn’t get a chance to try it out last year, give it a try now. I’ll e-mail information on the Saturday night dinners (and the family-friendliness of each movie) just ahead of our Blockbuster weekends. We begin June 13^th with Where the Wild Things Are.

…

I’m on vacation and study leave for the majority of these next two months. I’ll have office hours in the weeks preceding my pulpit dates in June and July. As always, I’m available for emergencies via cell phone and e-mail.

See you in church,
Rev. John Cullinan

In March of 1965, when the newly merged Unitarian Universalist Association was still in its relative infancy, a telegram arrived at the Association’s headquarters from the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. King was asking for concerned clergy and lay people to join him in Selma and help fight for civil rights in Alabama. The atmosphere was violent. No one would have blamed any our people if the call had been refused. But it was not. Many of our clergy and laity made the trip to Selma. Three of our brothers and sisters were murdered for their efforts. It is a story we still tell, a foundational myth in the story of “who we are.” We were, at an important moment in history, a boots-on-the-ground, hands-in-the-dirt tradition. The call to Alabama, and the murders of Reeb and Liuzzo, changed the course of the cause of civil rights.

It remains to be seen whether the passage of Arizona’s “show me your papers” law will be the turning point for immigration reform that the Selma to Montgomery marches were to the civil rights movement. Time will tell. However, what is clear now is that the recommendation of the current board of trustees of the UUA to withdraw the General Assembly from Phoenix in 2012 will do little in the long run to effect any real change in that state, or add anything of substance to the national debate over the status of the undocumented in this country.

Sure, boycotting Arizona has worked in the past. The boycott of the state over its failure to adopt the MLK holiday eventually helped bring the legislature around. However, the boycotter that everyone talks about isn’t us. It’s the NFL. The withdrawal of the Super Bowl XXVII from Tempe in protest over the state’s reticence was the nail in the coffin of those who protested a King holiday. Arizona was faced with an estimated $350 million loss in convention income, not to mention the loss of civic pride (and let’s not kid ourselves about how important a factor that can be). The legislature relented, passing the King holiday in 1992. Tempe was awarded Super Bowl XXX the following year.

Major league sports. Major league dollars. Major league civic ego stroking.

Dear friends, we bring none of this to the table. Sure, we boycotted Arizona, too. We know we did it. But I doubt highly there was anyone in a position of power in the entire state who was thinking, “Dammit, if we’ve lost the Unitarians, we’ve lost the country.”

If we’re being honest about what we, as a national movement, bring to the fight, we need to admit that a high profile national image on par with the National Football League (and the $$ that comes with that image) is not one of the arrows in our quiver. We will not, in the long run, accomplish anything by our absence. No one will notice.

But, our presence on the other hand . . .

When our boots are on the ground and our hands are in the dirt, we can do things. We can make noise. We can be seen. Our history has taught us that it’s what we do best. We have congregations in the state already fighting the good fight. Should we not demonstrate some solidarity? Is the work theirs alone by virtue of geography? We kicked off “Standing on the Side of Love” with an immigration rally last year. Why not do it again in the heart of the conflict? Why not invite the mayor of Phoenix, who’s choosing to fight the state, to join us in protest? Why not stand beside him and show some national support? One congregation in Phoenixis already asking us to come to the state later this month to join in ¡Alto Arizona!, a national day of protest at the state capital in Phoenix. We are being asked to come and help. Do we answer the call? Or do we just go on telling that story about that one time when we did that one thing?

What would our boycott accomplish, really? The argument is that it would have a financial impact on the state. Certainly the NFL withdrawal in the 90s proved the tactic effective. And, if smaller organizations like ourselves boycott in concert with allies, we can also have the same effect. However, the withdrawal of convention dollars affects not only the state, but also on working men and women, many of whom also oppose the legislation (and many — who we profess to stand on the side of — who run the risk of being adversely affected by it). In point of fact, a boycott runs the risk of being more detrimental to workers than to the state itself (and to our own limited resources), considering the price tag attached to withdrawal (somewhere in the neighborhood of $600,000). We’ve paid deposits, and we’ve paid taxes to the state already. Arizona’s got us coming or going. Why not, then, come and raise a ruckus?

Well, John, it’s because of all the individual dollars convention goers will add to the state’s coffers!

Yes, I’ve heard that argument, too. And that leads me to one last, uncomfortable truth about us. There’s an implicit underlying assumption in that argument about the way that we do GA. The assumption is that the cost of a General Assembly includes staying in nice hotels, eating out at good restaurants (or shelling out waaaay too much money for horrid convention center concessions). We like to have a good, pricey time while we’re in whatever city we’ve landed in each year. I count myself in that “we.” GA is part of my vacation, and I like to live it up a little. But I don’t have to. And neither do you.

We talk about reducing our carbon footprint at GAs. Why not attempt to reduce our economic footprint. Skip the W and stay at a cheap motel. Or pitch a tent. Bring a sack of peanut butter sandwiches. Or perhaps we could take on a day of public fasting?

Instead, it’s recommended we leave one place in favor of another place where we can continue to “do” GA in the manner to which we have become accustomed with a clear conscience. Friends, if we can only be in places that are sufficiently sympathetic to us, that pass some litmus test of acceptable attitude, we’re going to run out of places to be. If we can only conscience doing the work of our faith in places where we can afford to be “comfortable,” then we’re not doing the right work.

A boycott would be the equivalent of cheap grace. It’s too easy. We could all very easily say we didn’t go to Phoenix and pat ourselves on the back. That won’t cost us anything. The work we do should come with a price (and I’m not talking about dollars, here, folks). The work we do requires us to show up when we’re called. Remember that one time when we did that?

I watch a lot of television. This is probably not an earth-shattering revelation. While I’m not part of the first generation to be raised on television, I am part of a generation that often defines itself (the males, at least) based on which Saturday morning and weekday afternoon cartoons we watched as kids. Superfriends and Transformers—just to satisfy your curiosity and possibly date myself. While many people deride television as the “idiot box,” I’ve always found a lot of value in the programming I watch. Honestly, I like a good story no matter what media it’s told in. When it’s a story that reflects the reality of the human experience, even better.

As a minister, I have a tendency to view television and most other popular culture as potential sermon fodder, whether I intend to or not. It’s a hazard of this particular vocation. A scene of some significance will pass by on a TV or movie screen or in the pages of a book, and the little sermonizing homunculus in my head screams out, “That’ll preach!” And then, I’m off looking for a notebook to jot down an idea before I’ve lost it. Currently, I’m trying to figure out how to condense six seasons of Lost into a single sermon. I might have to make that endeavor into a series. Everything we experience is a life lesson, no matter from which direction that experience comes.

That’s one of the beautiful things about preaching in a Unitarian Universalist congregation. All of life is the scripture text from which to draw out meaning. We’re not limited to one lectionary, one mythology, or even one single medium. When I meet with ministers from more orthodox traditions, I’m frequently asked the question, “What do you preach from if not the Bible?”

“Everything!” I exclaim. Their jaws drop in a mixture of both horror and admiration. Maybe there’s even a little jealousy. All of life is our scripture—all of our experience. Even the idiot box has things of depth to teach us.

The silver screen, too, has wisdom to impart. Last summer, I tried an experiment of preaching from movies. Many of us gathered together on a Saturday night for a “Dinner and a Movie” night, and then the next morning I led a service based around themes from the previous night’s movie. It was a lot of fun for all involved, and a great community-building project. We received enough positive feedback to indicate that a repeat of what I called the “Summer Blockbusters” series would be a good idea for the coming summer months.

Starting next month, I lead three services based around recent movies that have spoken to me. We’ll share dinner and a movie on Saturday, and on Sunday I’ll lead a service with clips from the film, designed to get at the deeper issues in these films.

On June 13^th, we’ll explore themes of anger and loneliness with the 2009 release Where the Wild Things Are. On July 11^th, we’ll try to unravel some of the mysteries of Iran through the lens of one young woman and her attempt to break free from the Islamic revolution in the 2007 animated feature Persepolis. Then, on July 18^th, we’ll take on the new #1 movie of all time, Avatar, and explore themes of “us” vs. “the other” and the capacity for art to transform people.

Watch your e-mail for more information on this series as the dates draw near. I’ll provide information on family-friendliness for each film. I hope you can join us for this different style of service. These are also a perfect opportunity for inviting friends and neighbors who might light to check out our congregation.

I’ll see you at the movies.

It is also with some sadness that we say goodbye to Sara Dickens. Sara joined our staff in September of 2008 as our first youth program coordinator. Her husband, Matt, has taken a new job in California, and she and their children are following him out there at the end of the month. Sara has done a wonderful job with our Uniteens and YRUU groups over the last two years, helping us to chart the beginnings of a new course with our youth programming. I’ve greatly appreciated what she’s brought to us, and I know the youth have valued having her among them as well. Sara’s last Sunday will be on Flower Communion, May 23^rd. Please take an opportunity to say “thank you” to Sara and to wish her well as she and her family prepare to make a new home away from Los Alamos.

Our youth will present the May 2^nd services.

On May 16^th, we’ll hold our annual business meeting. Voting members are expected to attend so that we can take care of important business items in advance of the coming church and fiscal year. If you’d like to become a member in time for this meeting, please come and speak with me after any Sunday service, or give me a call in the office.

On May 23^rd, we close out the “ordinary” church year with our annual “Flower Communion.” This much beloved ritual is popular with kids and adults alike, and will be an all-ages service. Please remember to bring flowers to share with the community for these services.

On May 30^th, we begin our summer hour schedule, with a visit from our minister emeritus, Rev. Dale Arnink.

See you in church,
Rev. John Cullinan