Homily-ette:

Reflections on Unitarian Universalism’s First Principle

(This was a prompt to suggest a starting point for at least a part of my local UU community to a talk. But I think, I hope, all may relate, even if just a bit.)

We covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.

I think some of us fear that we end up saying the principles—reciting them like a rote prayer—chanting the words but never the doing the deeds.

That’s one of the main arguments against memorized prayer, against prayer—it becomes meaningless recitation.

We covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.

There is a meditative quality to reciting prayers or words over and over again. But the trick is to not lose the meaning. Somewhere in my early religious training, my take away was that you need to focus on the words every single time you say or think them. I took that very literally, and I worked hard to not slip out of “the presence” of the words.

I think it’s why I listen so hard to lyrics, every time I hear a song, and if I don’t like the lyrics, no matter how much I like the music, I can’t listen.

Our carefully crafted seven principles are as open to interpretation as scripture, and the first is a perfect example. It’s rather ambiguous for a principle really…to affirm and promote…there’s nothing about how to act. It’s a bit like stripping the guts out of the golden rule; or is it an invitation to rethink the golden rule? “Inherent worth and dignity.”

In a poem titled “The Same Inside,” Anna Swir writes:

 Walking to your place for a love fest
I saw at a street corner
an old beggar woman.
I took her hand,
kissed her delicate cheek,
we talked, she was
the same inside as I am,
from the same kind,
I sensed this instantly
as a dog knows by scent
another dog.
I gave her money,
I could not part from her.
After all, one needs
someone who is close.
And then I no longer knew
why I was walking to your place.

When I want to think about the first principle, I always start with Anna Swir. She’s not a very well-known poet here because there are only a few of her poetry collections that have been translated from Polish to English. I think of her as a people’s poet—from blunt “erotics” to combating ageism.

Yes, she writes about growing old and still being alive.

But what I most appreciate about Swir’s work is that every one of her subjects is imbued with dignity, with one exception… .

She was a radical feminist, and I definitely see her connecting with the “old beggar woman” as a woman.

But she would also have connected with the woman’s poverty. Swir’s mother, a budding singer from a wealthy family, was cut off from that family for marrying beneath her station—for marrying a penniless, occasionally mad artist. The three of them were often hungry, and they moved around Warsaw a lot—usually in the dead of night.

She was a nurse in the resistance during World War II, and her war poetry is among the best and most brutally honest that I’ve ever read.

She was captured once, put in a cell, and told she was going to be shot in the morning. Morning came, and they just let her go.

I said there was one exception. That was Swir herself. Although she celebrates the self in some poems, others reveal a deeply painful soul searching. She writes:

“I envy you. Every moment. You can leave me. I cannot leave myself.”  

It’s true. You are the one person you can never get away from.  It’s another way of saying wherever you go, there you are.

Is that where we need to start the discussion? Do we affirm and promote our own inherent worth and dignity? If we are indeed “the same inside,” and I believe we are—how can we affirm and promote for someone else if we don’t do it for ourselves.

Conversations about relationships often turn to how the traits we dislike in others are the ones we dislike most in ourselves. It’s eerily true, if you take the time think about it.

The great teacher Pema Chodron tells a wonderful story about being at a retreat. She was heading toward the kitchen after a long meditation session, but rather than being at peace she was fuming over one of the other retreatants who she thought was insincere. As she approaches the kitchen, she can see that someone has left their dirty bowls in the sink—when everyone is required to clean up after themselves. She worked up a pretty good lather by the time she got in the kitchen and looked at the name on the bowls to confirm her anger—it’s her own name she sees.

But. Do we ever think about whether we like people because they display the traits we like in ourselves or aspire to in ourselves? What do we like about ourselves?

There are some mornings when by the time I’ve counted up all the woulda’s, coulda’s, and shoulda’s, I’ve dug a hole so deep that I need to tunnel my way to work.

What do we like about ourselves? And what kind of shoes do we want to walk in?

I had my “same inside” moment in a chapel at the Frankfort airport. I was alone, and kind of uncomfortable.  Unable to settle. The door opened and a man walked in…a big man, late thirties maybe, he wore workers overalls but was obviously traveling. He sat down, dwarfing the diminutive chapel seat, put his head in his hands, and began to sob. It was heart rending—his grief was so intense I forgot myself, my shyness, my unworthiness. I walked over stood beside him for a moment, then I put my hand on the stranger’s shoulder. Our eyes met once, and he sobbed a bit longer and a bit harder with my hand on his shoulder. We did not have language in common, only spirit. It was a powerful moment, possibly the most powerful in my lifetime.

That’s who I want to be, someone able to connect spirit to spirit.

And to achieve that, in addition to seeing my own shadow in actions I dislike, I need, we need, to affirm our own inherent worth and dignity, and promote those whom we would like to emulate.

And that’s what we’re doing here—drawn from many paths and each speaking for him or herself.

I covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, including myself.

If you agree, would you repeat that last with me?

I covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, including myself.

Worship isn’t about any particular ritual or voice, it’s not about this rule or that rule, his right or her wrong, it’s about coming together in community to improve ourselves and our community. It’s a celebration of moving forward by expressing ourselves in words and in deeds—of choosing to do our best to live according to our principles…knowing each of us will fail from time to time…but each of us is determined to keep on trying…and to help one another along the way. Worship is a sharing of the spirit, it’s a discussion…

What does convenanting “to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person” mean to you?