On "Community"
This afternoon I attended a session at the Unitarian Universalist church I joined here in Prescott on "Talking to People With Whom We Disagree." Today's meeting was the first of a four-part series of workshops to "Create Communication Virtuosity" and to open and moderate conversations between disparate sides of volatile local water rights issues. Granite Peak UU has received a grant from Prescott College for this training (if this is really the right term), and I look forward to taking part in it since I aspire to listen and communicate better and to help others to do so as well.
Our Social Justice Coordinator, Paul, introduced me to James Luther Adams, a 20th century UU social justice minister, who wrote that
Religious liberalism affirms the moral obligation to direct one's effort toward the establishment of a just and loving community. It is this which makes the role of the prophet central and indispensable in liberalism." Religion, to Adams, is both private and public: justice, he said, is but love writ large.
Within this quoted passage are several key, hot-button words and phrases, but the one that sticks with me most is this idea of "moral obligation." Having just joined this UU congregation this summer after being pretty much away from UUism since the late 90's, I feel I'm still getting acquainted with its tenets and practice. I've been heavily involved with ADF, serving the Kindreds and community in a variety of ways -- liturgist and priest, poet and performer, participant and representative. I have served the Deities, Ancestors, Spirits, and The Folk -- the folk of my grove, of my religion, of the Neopagan community. In another capacity altogether, I serve my community of students, teachers, counselors, and administrators, as well as the parents and community of which my school is a part.
Paul asked us to consider and discuss with a partner whether we felt such service to social justice to our community and to those who likely disagree with us on a number of issues is part of what it means to be a Unitarian Universalist. Well, of course it is. However, the question I have is whether and to what degree I am ready, willing, and able to commit myself to this greater community. It's a pretty big deal, and something I need to consider a good bit. When I accepted the teaching job at Chino Valley and moved to Prescott, it quickly became apparent that I could not be "out" about my religion, and there is no "community" for me to serve here anyway. That is, an ADF community. I joined the UU church as a retreat back to a former page in my life before I found my home in ADF, and it was nice to think I would make friends and join a community here -- one that I could be a part of publicly, incidentally, something I could NOT do as a pagan in this neck of the woods. It hadn't occurred to me that I could "hide" within the UU congregation here, not practicing my true religion overtly, but when someone at school invited me to her church, I realized how convenient it was to be a part of a (for the most part) socially-acceptable religious organization in this community. Unitarian Universalism allows us all to be a person of faith/religious/spiritual each in our own way, and as such, it only enhances without contradicting or superseding my own commitment to ADF.
Now I have much to contemplate: what exactly IS my community, and to what degree to I commit myself to it? We spent a lot of time sharing stories of times when we found ourselves in situations and conversations where we did not agree with others, and in many of those situations, we bite our tongues, change the subject, and avoid confrontation. Yet, to do so is to avoid seeing a "just and loving community" with others. I suppose there is something to the idea of choosing one's battles carefully, and so I might avoid political discussions with conservative, right-wing colleagues. But is that fulfilling my moral obligation to seek meaningful relationships with others? If I bite my tongue when someone talks disparaging, ignorantly, or falsely about Obamacare or educational reform or political correctness, am I fulfilling my commitment to my community?
For the most part, when we avoid such difficult conversations, we do so because we do not know how to approach them, and there lies the rub. It's easier and safer just to keep quiet and mix only with those whose opinions we agree with. But with this series of workshops, I hope to learn ways to enter and facilitate these conversations safely, lovingly, and constructively. Why? Something Paul said several weeks ago still rings true, though I don't remember his exact words. He was speaking with someone who had deliberately engaged in just such a difficult conversation with one he knew to hold an opposing point of view. When Paul asked him why, he said that if he didn't speak with this guy, he might never have the opportunity to hear another side to this argument.
That's reason enough for me.
Our Social Justice Coordinator, Paul, introduced me to James Luther Adams, a 20th century UU social justice minister, who wrote that
Religious liberalism affirms the moral obligation to direct one's effort toward the establishment of a just and loving community. It is this which makes the role of the prophet central and indispensable in liberalism." Religion, to Adams, is both private and public: justice, he said, is but love writ large.
Within this quoted passage are several key, hot-button words and phrases, but the one that sticks with me most is this idea of "moral obligation." Having just joined this UU congregation this summer after being pretty much away from UUism since the late 90's, I feel I'm still getting acquainted with its tenets and practice. I've been heavily involved with ADF, serving the Kindreds and community in a variety of ways -- liturgist and priest, poet and performer, participant and representative. I have served the Deities, Ancestors, Spirits, and The Folk -- the folk of my grove, of my religion, of the Neopagan community. In another capacity altogether, I serve my community of students, teachers, counselors, and administrators, as well as the parents and community of which my school is a part.
Paul asked us to consider and discuss with a partner whether we felt such service to social justice to our community and to those who likely disagree with us on a number of issues is part of what it means to be a Unitarian Universalist. Well, of course it is. However, the question I have is whether and to what degree I am ready, willing, and able to commit myself to this greater community. It's a pretty big deal, and something I need to consider a good bit. When I accepted the teaching job at Chino Valley and moved to Prescott, it quickly became apparent that I could not be "out" about my religion, and there is no "community" for me to serve here anyway. That is, an ADF community. I joined the UU church as a retreat back to a former page in my life before I found my home in ADF, and it was nice to think I would make friends and join a community here -- one that I could be a part of publicly, incidentally, something I could NOT do as a pagan in this neck of the woods. It hadn't occurred to me that I could "hide" within the UU congregation here, not practicing my true religion overtly, but when someone at school invited me to her church, I realized how convenient it was to be a part of a (for the most part) socially-acceptable religious organization in this community. Unitarian Universalism allows us all to be a person of faith/religious/spiritual each in our own way, and as such, it only enhances without contradicting or superseding my own commitment to ADF.
Now I have much to contemplate: what exactly IS my community, and to what degree to I commit myself to it? We spent a lot of time sharing stories of times when we found ourselves in situations and conversations where we did not agree with others, and in many of those situations, we bite our tongues, change the subject, and avoid confrontation. Yet, to do so is to avoid seeing a "just and loving community" with others. I suppose there is something to the idea of choosing one's battles carefully, and so I might avoid political discussions with conservative, right-wing colleagues. But is that fulfilling my moral obligation to seek meaningful relationships with others? If I bite my tongue when someone talks disparaging, ignorantly, or falsely about Obamacare or educational reform or political correctness, am I fulfilling my commitment to my community?
For the most part, when we avoid such difficult conversations, we do so because we do not know how to approach them, and there lies the rub. It's easier and safer just to keep quiet and mix only with those whose opinions we agree with. But with this series of workshops, I hope to learn ways to enter and facilitate these conversations safely, lovingly, and constructively. Why? Something Paul said several weeks ago still rings true, though I don't remember his exact words. He was speaking with someone who had deliberately engaged in just such a difficult conversation with one he knew to hold an opposing point of view. When Paul asked him why, he said that if he didn't speak with this guy, he might never have the opportunity to hear another side to this argument.
That's reason enough for me.