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Last August, the Storm Lake Area Unitarian Universalist Association asked several of our members, Judy Cowley, a lifelong Unitarian, Marlene Sturdevant, raised partially in Catholicism, and me, to share our spiritual journeys to UUism with their congregation. As Daniel Connell suggested in his essay “How to Convert” ( the second part of today’s reading) sharing our diverse spiritual journeys is one of the ways in which we UUs deepen our sense of community.
I truly began my “coming to Unitarian Universalism” by having the good fortune to have been born to two fiercely independent people who had managed to remain single for a goodly portion of their adult lives, during an era when this was hardly the norm. My mother had been a school teacher for 9 years prior to her marriage, was reasonably well read, socially quite reserved and proper, politically considered herself to be a Democrat and her religious faith was Presbyterian.
My father had worked for the railroad since he was 16 yrs. old and for nearly 10 years of his life traveling as a “boomer” across North and Central America wherever they needed workers. Although he had little formal education beyond the 8th grade, he was in reality far better read then my mother. Possessing a dry wit and an irrepressible sense of humor, he was a staunch Republican as well as a religious agnostic who firmly believed the Unitarian Church was the only organized religion to have any kind of “handle on the truth”.
My mother was 27 and my father 34 when they finally met and married. Then, after marriage, it took those two very different individuals another seven years to produce their first and only offspring,................... me.
By the time I was three and a half, my father’s health had begun to deteriorate. Mother, who ended her teaching career when she married my father due, in part, to the fact that married women still could not hold a teaching position in the State of Iowa at the time they were wed, was pragmatic enough to know that she must return to work outside the home so that he could find easier, less physically taxing employment. But what to do with me? They had no relatives living in or near our city. As their only chick, they wanted to make certain that my environment would continue to be protectively incubated and they found nursery schools during the late 1940’s less than their idea of satisfactory.
Then, my parents learned about the Grace Bible Institute of Omaha, and that Grace had college students, good Christian girls, that were advertising for baby-sitting work. My parents decided this was the solution to their dilemma! The first girl who came to baby-sit for me was very young , full of energy and fun to be around. I was content, my parents felt reassured, and this method of child care continued for nearly a year. Then, for some unexplained reason, this particular girl had to leave school.
A new girl was to take over. The first day the new girl arrived, after my parents left, she sat me down and stated that she wanted us to really get to know each other and that she wanted to know all about me. She asked me lots of questions and continued to ask and listen carefully to my replies for some time! She quickly had me captivated. I was amazed that someone would find me so interesting! Then she asked me where I went to church on Sunday?
“No where, ” I replied.
She said, “Oh, but certainly you must. At least once in a while. Where does your family go to church when you do attend?"
I explained I had never actually gone to church on Sunday, but that I’d seen churches before and that I had gone for walks with my mother where we’d actually walked up the church steps across the street from the house where we used to live.
She replied incredulously, “Your family never goes to church?!? Oh, my!! I’ve heard there were cases like this, but....... Hmmmmm........... But you do believe in the Almighty Supreme Creator of Heaven and Earth, ....don’t you??”
I said, “The .....what..?”
She said, “You know..., Our Father in Heaven and his son Christ Our Lord & Savior?”
I said, “A........No??”
With her voice rising she said, “You mean to tell me your mother and your father never told you anything about the Almighty?”
Becoming somewhat uneasy myself, I again shook my head no.
“Oh.....! My goodness!” she said. “I just can’t believe this!” Shaking her head sadly and sighing she said, “You poor little thing. You don’t even know about our Savior?”
I said I guessed I didn’t. Then, seeing how confused I must have looked she gave me a hug and told me she didn’t want me to be so sad about it, and that this really wasn’t my fault. That I couldn’t help not knowing when I had parents that never even told me. Then she said that, serious as the situation was, she thought she could fix it. With her eyes much too bright, but her voice now sweetly calm she asked, “Would you like to know the Almighty Father in Heaven and his son Christ our Savior??”
I said, ....well.........., that I guessed that would be OK. At that point I would have said almost anything to make her feel better. She said all I had to do was get down on my knees beside her next to the couch and she would beseech the “Almighty” on my behalf, teach me to pray and that I would then “know the Lord”.
She knelt down and I hesitantly knelt down beside her and she began “Oh heavenly Father” ..............and on.... and on...... and on. I remember it took what felt like a terribly long time to beseech this “Almighty” to accept me because, as she kept saying, I was just an innocent little child and not responsible for my parents actions or, in this case I guess it was inaction's.
Finally she asked me to repeat some words after her, then she said, “Amen” and told me, “Now you too believe in the Divine Savior and when your parents get home we can tell them that you believe and that you are saved!”
By now, I’d begun to think this was all rather exciting and I thought she would tell my parents the good news as soon as they walked in the door... But she didn’t! As the day progressed she seemed to lose interest in me altogether. In fact, to my disappointment, she seemed to have forgotten all about my conversion by the time my parents got home from work.
While my father drove this student back to her dormitory, I explained to my mother about my day! As I explained, my mother began to look increasingly exasperated and agitated as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Finally, shaking her head, she said, “But Honey, all she was talking about was God. You know about God. I’ve talked to you about that lots of times.”
Disappointed, I said, “Oh! Then why didn’t she just say God? Why did she use all those other words? ................................... And just who is Christ Our Savior, anyway? I know I’ve never heard about that!”
When my father returned home, two things were evidently decided that night. One, that this particular girl would not be back again, and, two, that it was definitely past time for my religious upbringing to begin. The one area in which my parents seemed in complete agreement was that I should learn about many different religious views. Then, when I was old enough to think and decide for myself, and only then, I should choose for myself my own religious path in life. Prior to that there should be lot of education, but no baptisms.
Mother and I began going to the Presbyterian Sunday School not far from our home. In time, Mother would become a Sunday School Teacher and later the Superintendent of all the Sunday School Classes. My father began telling me stories about various religions and their historical significance. They both took time, over the years, to explain to me my own religious genealogy which was entertainingly rich with anecdotes of ancestors, some of whom came to this country so that they could worship as they choose instead of as they were told; of a great great grandfather who (as Dad related) was an OK person until he got religion and became a Baptist Preacher and a complete nut; of my own grandmother, who (as Mother related) was raised Quaker and, because she was considered too pretty, her parents worried constantly for fear she would be tempted to become too worldly.
When I was 7, we moved to an area of Omaha known as Dundee. Half of the students in my new school were Jewish. In class, teachers referred to us as Jewish or Gentile Children and we learned about and celebrated Jewish as well as Christian Holidays. By the time I was 11, many Sundays Mother and I would go first to Presbyterian Sunday School, then on to Unitarian Sunday School and Church with my father afterward.
When I was 14, about to enter my freshman year of high school, my father’s body finally succumbed to the cancer that his spirit had been fighting for years. Although my father seldom attended the Presbyterian Church Services, over the years he and the Presbyterian Minister, a Rev. Beloit (Lowe Avenue Presbyterian Church), became good friends. When Rev. Beloit knew my father had only a few months to live, he expressed to my parents his deep and growing concern over the fact that it appeared that my father had never been baptized. The minister pleaded with my Dad to please just let him perform the simple ceremony. Acknowledging my father’s agnosticism, the minister implored that this would just be a sort of safety precaution, like an extra insurance policy.
My father said he appreciated what the minister was saying, and acknowledged that he knew that he might be completely wrong in his beliefs and that the minister might be completely right in his. “However,” my Dad reasoned, “this is the way I’ve lived my life! And, even if it turns out in the end that you were correct in your beliefs and I’m completely wrong in mine, what kind of a man would it make me to try to slip in under the wire like this at the very last minute?" ..................And so my father died, as he lived,................. by his own ethical beliefs.
While my father, on the one hand, had always encouraged me in taking calculated risks, in listening to my inner voice for counsel, and in having faith in my own abilities........, my mother admonished caution, and taking care, and being selfless in my actions.
I knew in my heart at age 14 that my religious beliefs were Unitarian, but I felt so alone after my father died and I so wanted to just fit in. I knew my beliefs were Unitarian when, in high school, I attended a Methodist Church and Confirmation Class because my friends went there. I knew while I married a high school sweetheart in his families’ Southern Baptist Church in a wedding ceremony where I promised to “obey”. I knew years later when I insisted that my husband, and our young children join a Congregational Church hoping this spiritual compromise would be a calming influence on a man who had been raised to believe his own children must also always “obey” or suffer instant violent reprisals. I kept telling myself that at least intellectually, I knew,.................. and that someday, I would find the courage and self direction that my father tried so hard to instill in me. But, to know and not do, is to not really know.
By the age of 37, my need for my children to be free to complete their growth in an environment where they too might learn to listen to their own inner voice, finally rose to the surface. My own need to be free from the constant anger and violent outbursts of basically good intentioned individuals who appeared powerless to control their own tempers or their need to make others “obey” at all costs, finally became my strongest motivation. After a divorce that served to reinforce the knowledge that what I needed most in life was to listen to my own counsel, I began attending the First Unitarian Church of Sioux City.
My first time back in a Unitarian Church, after all those years, was an almost indescribably exhilarating experience. It was like coming out into the sunlight after having lived years in darkness, it was breathing fresh air and reveling in open freedom of thought after having spent years with many of my thoughts hidden. For the first time in many years my intellect, my spirit, and my physical presence in the world were all in harmony; free of conflict.
I came to UUism, not as an angry com-outer, but as an individual who had evolved to a point where I felt an irrepressible need to begin to live my life with as much authenticity as I could discern. For me the (noun) God that was the Supreme Being of my very early Presbyterian upbringing had long ago evolved into the (verb) God, a continuous "universal creative process;" by which our universe continues to evolve. Not being a literal minded person, moving forward I continue to choose Unitarian Universalism, not because of a lack of faith, but because of all in which I do have faith. Not even because of lack of belief in the validity of various teaching in the Bible, but rather because one book alone is much too narrow to contain all I believe to be true of humanities quest for Spiritual Meaning.
Now, lest anyone might think that my officially becoming a UU, finally, when I was nearly 40 years old, was akin to my arriving at a major destination in my life, let me correct that misperception. UUism, by it’s very non-creedal nature, is not a destination, but simply a vehicle for traveling a path. A marvelous, open, expansive vehicle........, but a vehicle none-the-less. Never a conclusion or an end......., but a perpetual beginning,....... and a becoming.
Sometimes, I think this particular misconception has something to do with the number of people who come through our church doors, stay a brief time, and leave,.... confused or disappointed. Sometimes people come looking for final answers and....., instead................ they find more questions. They come looking for a destination. Instead, they find they’re in for a ride. In our UU Communities, sometimes we are the drivers, and during other times in our lives we are riders, coasting for a while while we rebuild and regain our own energy while someone else takes on the driving for us. I’ve personally experienced both positions during my now twenty some years as a committed UU.
On my journey, I’ve discovered terrific companions............... and, in community with them, with you, I continue to learn, and grow, and evolve, and experience wondrous things along my life’s path......... through this most uncommon vehicle known at Unitarian Universalism.
This is my story. I know each of you have your own story about coming to UUism ..........different from mine, ......but similar too. When you feel comfortable doing so, I hope you too will share your story as well. The reason I ask this of you is at least partially selfish. The act of sharing your spiritual journey will not only further facilitate your own growth, but hearing it will help to further my on-going spiritual growth as well.
In loving community, may it be so.
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