Vibrant Worship Through Arts and Beauty

I commend everybody to this wonderful reflection by Peacebang:

Humanist Worship and the Arts

Rev. James Ishmael Ford on Possibilities for Liturgy

Some of you might want to check out this reflection by Ishmael Ford, originally brought to my attention some months ago by Lee (thanks Lee!):

http://monkeymindonline.blogspot.com/2010/09/scheming-and-plotting-at-first.html

Some interesting thoughts here on worship, liturgy, and ritual, as well as some of the possible new directions for Unitarian Universalism in general.

Feel free to post thoughts, agreements and disagreements, in conversation with this piece.

Theological and Communal Stakes in Rituals

In the congregation of which I am a member, there was a change in the part of the worship service called variously the Sharing of Joys and Sorrows or the Candles of Joy and Concern. (This is a component of many--most?--Sunday worship services in the UU tradition, in which members of the religious community are invited to come forward and light a candle to honor a personal joy or concern in their lives. All candles are lit from a larger one, kindled by the flame from the congregation's chalice, and placed in a shared basin of sand at the front of the sanctuary. Often, in congregations small enough for it to be permissible, each person is invited to voice the joy or concern, although larger congregations may light silent candles due to time constraints and the size of the membership. A discussion of some issues pertaining to this ritual can be found here.)

The change took place soon before I left for seminary, so I was not present to see whether it truly became established or not. It was a change that a number of UU congregations have adopted, which is to replace the candles in this ritual with smooth stones, i.e., each person speaks his or her joy or sorrow while taking a stone from a bowl and placing it into another bowl of water.

My deeply felt negative reaction to this change surprised me. While the congregation seemed to struggle with the change for more pragmatic reasons (its abrupt introduction into worship near the end of a church year and without being widely discussed, much less voted on; the parallel decision that the minister would place the stones, and that the microphone would also be retained by the minister while members spoke, rather than their holding onto it themselves), my own inner resistance stemmed from a spiritual uncertainty. Eventually I began to wonder if the sensory impact of the stones versus the candle had shifted a symbolism for me in a way that, given my own theological leanings, produced a lessening of resonance (I thought of the ancient Greeks' characterization of the four elements: stones, with their downward pull, evoking earthiness; fire, with its upward leaping, evoking transcendence). Yet, I reasoned, this particular congregation was definitively humanist-oriented. Its members chose to self-identify as atheist, pagan, and Buddhist, and there could often be profound wariness of languages of reverence, and talk of God and Spirit (the latter particularly seems to me to be somehow gestured toward by the symbolism of flame, its light and dancing ingraspability). Thus, perhaps it was entirely appropriate for that congregation to have adopted a ritual speaking to a downward-oriented, grounding spirituality.

Yet, I found myself still waffling theologically, for two reasons. The first had to do, again, with what the ritual seemed to be communicating at the metaphorical level-- the level of "mythos" that we understand more tacitly than intellectually. A sinking stone falls into the bowl pulled by the tug of gravity upon itself, and each stone that is dropped after it submerges separately. There is no becoming one. At the end of the service, the same handful of very autonomous, very unmingled stones is lifted out of the water, dried off, and put away until the next Sunday. I feel that using stones in this ritual misses out on two important symbolic aspects that are communicated when candles are lit. To me this comes about, firstly, because of their reusability (a candle seems to honor each person's uniqueness by being lit, one time only, explicitly in honor of each person's particular pain or joy), and secondly, because of their separateness (the shared flame from the chalice and the first candle, from which all candles are lit, seems to me clearly to evoke Unitarian Universalism's essential teachings of the many embraced as ultimately One, and the individual sustained by the community).

There is also the matter of the flaming chalice--symbol of our faith--disappearing as a component of the ritual. This means that the new ritual breaks a symbolic tie with the denomination, not just because a majority of congregations light candles during their services, but because the flame is a connection to our primary written symbol as a faith tradition, and all the potential for meaning that it bears. In a denomination espousing congregational polity, perhaps it makes sense to a certain degree for congregations to develop their own rituals based on their members' particular spiritual temperaments... Yet, I distrust this, because I fear the loss of connectivity to tradition that that seems likely to bring about if taken too far.

And finally, it was the reasoning behind the change, which I found out somewhat later, that clued me in to the dubiousness of its implementation. The change had resulted not from discussions of theology and worship aimed at discerning how to create religious resonance for the particular people of this congregation; rather, the decision had been made on the basis that stones were more sustainable than candles.

I do hope it will be understood that I find this a noble motivation. I think that the fact that that consideration would come to mind speaks volumes about the ethical awareness of our denomination. Our collective social conscience is obviously well-honed. But I fear this instance points to an inclination to underestimate the power of the sacred, poetically and intuitively expressed, and to devalue it in comparison to a busy activism that knocks such "trifles" out of its way.

Justice comes through action, but it also comes through poetry--and through community, through tradition, and through deeply felt religious experience. I hope that we, as Unitarian Universalists, can find a balance between sacred action and sacred prayer, individual congregational freedom and connectivity to the larger faith.

The Pottery of Ritual

Prometheus, Ninhursag, Yahweh – divine potters, bold artisans, remembered for scraping the dust of the ground, inspiriting the breath of life, crafting humanity. Homo, humanus, humus. From Yoruban to Mayan stories of creation and beyond, peoples the world over recall the holy art of human construction – carved out of muddied earth, destined to return. We erupt from the ground: Adam.

The act of creation impregnates every moment. God shapes and unshapes and is reshaped in turn.

Our awakened lives are clay vessels catching existence. In and through ritual, they take on new forms. Trusting the Potter’s graceful demands, our crucibles expand to embrace the subjunctive this-we-ought-to-be. We repetitiously mold ourselves into the possible. God sets us in the not-yet.

We are now wider and deeper than before. Our lives hold it all. We pour blessings more generously into the vessel of another.

Reflections and Ruminations by Erik Resly

The Window of the Moment

Greetings, friends!

Welcome to a blog for the sharing of ideas, findings, and hopes relating to the topic of ritual and creative worship in Unitarian Universalism! May we consider this a space for inventiveness, daring, connection, support and community-building. Any post, from any BTI seminarian, is welcome. Whether you are pondering a question, planning an event, mulling over an idea you'd like to "test drive" before a group of supportive peers, sharing an experience that inspired you, or searching for new pathways to the sacred, we welcome you.

As we begin this e-journey together, perhaps we may take inspiration from this meditation by Jacob Trapp: a reminder of the possibilities for worship in every waking moment, and the potential sacredness of every space (even virtual spaces!)

"To Worship"

Rev. Jacob Trapp

To worship is to stand in awe under a heaven of stars,
Before a flower, a leaf in sunlight, or a grain of sand.
To worship is to be silent, receptive, before a tree astir with the wind,
Or the passing shadow of a cloud.
To worship is to work with dedication and skill; it is to pause from work and listen to a strain of music.
To worship is to sing with the singing beauty of the earth;
It is to listen through a storm to the still small voice within.
Worship is loneliness seeking communion; it is a thirsty land crying out for rain.
Worship is the kindred fire within our hearts;
It moves through deeds of kindness and through acts of love.
Worship is the mystery within us reaching out to the mystery beyond.
It is an inarticulate silence yearning to speak;
It is the window of the moment, open to the sky of the eternal.

Peace,

--Celie Katovitch