Читать книгу Across the Waters of Remembrance - Herbert E. Hudson - Страница 10

Someone once said, “The world is made up of two kinds of people—those who try to divide the world into two kinds of people and those who don’t.”

In a similar form it could be said that, “In the world there are those who divide history into different periods and those who don’t.” One such “periodizer,” a man not well known today, was a Christian scholar of the Middle Ages by the name of Joachim of Flora. It was this man’s interpretation, and for some reason this has stuck with me from Harvard Divinity School days, that Christian Church history distributes itself into three eras, that of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The Old Testament period was that in which emphasis was placed upon the action of God in history. With the advent of Jesus, the periods rapidly shifted into that in which we are now participating, that over-shadowed by the Son. And somewhere perhaps in the not too distant future, when Christianity will no longer depend upon such overt expressions, we will enter the era of pure Spirit.

It is the view of Unitarians and Universalists, of course, that we have already arrived at this third era. The only trouble is that the remainder of the Christian world does not agree. In a prophetic mood that equals Joachim of Flora’s only in part, I am suggesting in this series of three sermons that what has been the “Trinity” of Unitarianism for some time, the qualities of freedom, reason and tolerance may be conceived as emphases of three different periods of Unitarianism and Universalism. It should be underscored, however, that these elements are by no means exclusive, but during a period when one is considered dominant, the others overlap and reinforce each other.

We begin, then, with freedom. Without freedom of belief Unitarianism and Universalism would not have begun; only because of freedom of belief is our denomination what it is today. Unitarianism and Universalism as they originally appeared, however, were quite different than we know them now. They were, and we should continually bear this in mind, but sects of Christianity that dared dissent on a point or two of doctrine. In every other respect early liberals remained faithful Christians.

As a quick survey of church history would tell us, it was not really until the fourth century that the Christian Church found it necessary to promulgate a doctrine of the Trinity. It is a curious commentary upon the millions of Christians who have believed in the divinity of Jesus that this doctrine had its origin in a church council over 1600 years ago, was proposed by a minority, and was accepted only because Constantine threw his weight into the balance due to reasons as much political as spiritual. Another participating group called the Arians exercised freedom of belief, rejected this doctrine and thereby became one of the first forerunners of Unitarianism. Just think what the implications would have been for the history of Christianity as well as our denomination, had Constantine decided on the side of the Arians at this first summit meeting!

Throughout the following centuries there are innumerable examples of freedom of belief, but one of the most dramatic is that of Michael Servetus. Servetus, who excelled in geography and medicine as well as religion, came to oppose the doctrine of the Trinity from his own reading and study of the Bible. When his book, On the Errors of the Trinity, appeared there were many attempts to convert him, notably by John Calvin. But Servetus stood fast and became such a frustrating and offensive opponent that he was soon branded a heretic and was sought for trial by the Inquisition. It was only a matter of time until he was recognized while traveling through Geneva, imprisoned, and burned alive on October 27, 1553. Michael Servetus is sometimes called the first Unitarian, but it is important to remember that he lived and died a devout Christian, differing on but a single point of doctrine.

There were others, and there were other movements, but perhaps not another so prominent until Faustus Socinus. Where Servetus failed, Socinus in Poland succeeded. Socinus established a following and a church that persists to the present day. Socinus also exercised freedom of belief on the issue of the Trinity, but on other matters such as the divine birth and resurrection of Jesus, he remained quite orthodox. An additional emphasis we find in Socinus is that of the goodness of man.

From Socinus and his emphasis on the goodness of men to the rise of Universalism in America is a big step, but it is one we must make if we are to give attention to our whole denomination. Where Unitarians distinguished themselves by their insistence upon the humanity of Jesus, the Universalists were originally defined by their denial of the doctrine of election and their claim of universal salvation. Of early Universalists and their exercise of freedom of belief there are three who were particularly distinguished: George de Benneville, John Murray, and Hosea Ballou.

“The Father of American Universalism” was George de Benneville who was responsible for bringing Universalism to this continent. Persecuted in France and educated in England, he came to America as a doctor and preacher. A humane man, de Benneville placed emphasis upon the primacy of persons, their intrinsic worth and possible high destiny. Again, it is significant to note that although this founder of our faith believed in universal salvation, he was faithful to such Christian presuppositions as the divine inspiration of the Bible, and invariably used it in arguing with opponents.

John Murray, an excommunicated Wesleyan evangelist, established the First Universalist Church at Gloucester, Massachusetts, and is the man most often associated with the rise of organized Universalism in this country. Murray, who was heavily influenced by James Relly, took his stand unequivocally against Puritanism’s doctrines of election and predestination. Although Murray exercised freedom of belief on this point, his mode of proof was to argue a thoroughly orthodox position on the vicarious atonement of all men through Christ’s sacrifice.

It was not until Hosea Ballou, the giant of Universalism, published his Treatise on Atonement that less emphasis came to be placed on supernatural atonement and more upon the goodness of God and the adequacy of man that warrant his redemption. An interesting example of the freedom that characterized early Universalists was the Restorationist controversy between those who felt there must be some punishment after death before the soul can go to heaven and those who felt that sin brought its own punishment. Under the diplomatic leadership of Ballou this controversy raged, lost its course, and passed into insignificance.

This, then, has been something of Unitarianism and Universalism historically. In their initial stages it would have been hard to imagine them without freedom of belief, but freedom only to question certain dogmas such as the Trinity or Salvation. A freedom that never questioned the spiritual dominance of Jesus, the divine inspiration of the Bible, the reality of heaven, and the sovereignty of God.

This took place over a period of almost 1900 years. Then less than 100 years ago, something very different, something entirely unprecedented began to happen. The attitude of freedom of belief, the spirit of critical inquiry previously reserved for a particular aspect of Christianity began to question the very foundations of Christianity itself.

This tendency began gradually with the insight and scholarship of Theodore Parker and Emerson who we will consider in detail next week. Parker, who remained in what we could call the Christian church, emphasized the critical study of the Bible, the complete humanization of Jesus, and the primacy of social reform. Emerson was one of the first to break with the Church in his stress upon the accessibility of God in nature and the soul of man, and upon the significance of other world religions, notably Hinduism. James Freeman Clark carried this tendency to its natural conclusion in the last part of the nineteenth century with his work on comparative religions.

Another age had been ushered in, the Age of Enlightenment. Everywhere humanity was beginning to see new horizons of truth—in the sciences, in psychology, in world literature, etc. Truth was not dead, embalmed and entombed in glass cases to be reverently but uncritically viewed. Truth was alive, growing, ever enlarging and changing in multiple patterns.

Unitarians and Universalists saw no reason to believe that religion was an exception. Religion was no longer a matter of working out salvation within a given historical faith; religion had become for us a quest for the living truth, wherever it may lead. The only faith fit for such a conception of truth was a free faith. Only through complete freedom of belief can the growing truth be comprehended, can man realize his destiny.

A new Unitarianism and Universalism had been born. The concept Unitarian came to refer to the oneness of life, the unity of experience; while Universalism came to reference all truth, even that of different world religions. Our denomination came to rely on the scriptures of all the world, and we added the symbols of all major religions to our houses of worship. We supplemented prayers with meditations.

Much as such an attitude characterizes most of Unitarianism and Universalism and should characterize the forward thrust of our denomination, we are haunted by recurring questions: What is, or should be, our relationship as religious liberals to Christianity? Can we dismiss Christianity as just another imperfect formulation of truth in our search, or is this too abrupt for a faith that has been so much a part of our tradition and even, in some instances, of our earlier lives?

I think the answer lies in each of our hearts. If Christianity truly has no special meaning in your background, if you had minimal contact with it in youth and secular channels of truth or world religions have come to mean more to you, then we do not need to belabor the point, although we could always wonder whether one could help be raised in this culture with its literature and morals and Christmas, and not find that Christianity has a special meaning.

And if Christianity occupied a prominently unpleasant part of our background, I think we could view with suspicion the claim that now it doesn’t mean anything to us. It does—it means something to be forgotten, and what is good will be forgotten along with what was unpleasant, and this is not freedom. One of the poorest grounds for liberalism is an incomplete resolution of one’s orthodox past.

What I am suggesting is that there should also be room in this freedom of ours to come to terms with Christianity, and to be free to accept that which is good. For example, the idea of prayer can still have a meaning for liberals. In the words of a colleague, “Prayer doesn’t change things. Prayer changes people—and people change things.” So, too, can a sensitive, carefully prepared worship service have a place in speaking to our deepest needs. We all have feelings: we do not need to be ashamed of them; they are a part of life and truth; worship should be a place where our feelings as well as our ideas find expression.

Let me say a word about hymns. Many of us will pass up the words that are disagreeable; some will sit them out. There is a point here: we need to continually write new hymns that are an expression of a free faith. But I also think this tendency to be so intent upon the intellectual meaning that we cannot accept a hymn for what it is—an artistic unity that is not a statement of a creed but an expression of beauty—suggests that perhaps we have not completely worked our way through our relationship to Christianity.

As for Jesus, I find myself strangely warmed by this heroic figure. A man to be sure, but what a man. Would he be alive today few of us would waste a minute to rent him the city auditorium or invite him to our discussion group. The fact that he lived long ago, that so many people have muddled the issues since, should not render him any less potent. As a bold and loving leader of men, he has much to say to us today.

So also, can the prophets of the other world religions, although one could wonder whether we can identify ourselves culturally as well with them. Surely, we must learn to do this if we are to become one world, and there are some who do now.

Many of us consider ourselves agnostics and atheists. Certainly, we are atheist about the traditional God conceived as anthropomorphic mover and judge of history. I wonder how many of us can remain agnostic about life. Can life be lived without decision, commitment, not as to the imponderables, but as to the attitudes and assumptions necessary to live each day? Of course it can’t. We have all made assumptions about what is for us primary in being, about how we should live and why. It remains only to recognize what this basic reality is that works in our lives and try to enhance and nurture it. This is for us the equivalent of what other men have called God, and if we are free enough to see its parallels or even consider it a dimension of life special enough to be known as divine, we can learn a great deal from the insights of centuries past.

But we can also learn from every other source of human good today—from the sciences, the arts, the philosophies, the psychologies. For centuries will pass and Christianity will be forgotten, but our faith in the living truth will not. The cause of a free faith will never die. It is a faith that takes account of the grandeur of man; it is a faith fashioned to the character of truth.

And it is a faith, make no mistake about it. Not faith in what the many believe and in what now exists, but faith in what does not yet exist, in the unseen, in tomorrow.

1. Sermon delivered by the author at the Church of the Reconciliation Unitarian Universalist, Utica, New York on October 29, 1961.