Earlier in the service I mentioned having a trust in the
journey that is our religion’s call. So what exactly is our religion’s call? In
all honesty, it has taken me a long time to get comfortable with this language
of “the call.” Maybe it was because it sounded to me like who I am and what I
do is predestined. As someone with Type A tendencies, I had no interest in
entertaining the idea that something beyond my control was directing the course
of my life. So when I was first asked to describe my “call to ministry,” I panicked.
I thought I was being asked to describe the day I received explicit instructions,
a clear sign that might have literally included the words “Ranwa, you must
become a minister.” Well, what if I never had that moment? What if my decision
to enter ministry, to go to seminary, was based in and still surrounded by
questions? By doubt? Did that mean that I was not called?
Cue Professor James Cone, the founder of Black Liberation
Theology.
Against the advice of several second and third-year friends,
I enrolled in Dr. Cone’s Systematic Theology course in my fall semester. This
was a risky decision, since I didn’t really know what either of those words actually
meant. But I knew I wanted to take a course with James Cone in my first year. I
learned a very important lesson that semester – not listening to other people’s
experienced advice can lead to amazing things. During the first day of class,
Dr. Cone defined a theologian as someone “who reflects on ultimate meaning and seeks
to reconcile one’s highest hopes with the disappointments in everyday life &
experience.” Theology, he told us, emerges out of this contradiction. And so, he
encouraged each of us in the room to discover our own contradiction, to find
what it was deep within us that we had to answer, that we had to let out or
else be consumed by it. He challenged us to embrace the power of our internal
fire and to let it drive our work, our faith.
Well, Dr. Cone: Challenge accepted.
For those of us who may not be familiar with James Cone, he
is, as I mentioned earlier, the “founder” of black liberation theology, and his
work has been shaping religious leaders and justicemakers for decades. His
liberation theology put at the forefront something that we now take for granted
in our religious movements: the pervasiveness of oppression. At the core of
liberation theology is a belief that God, the Divine, is on the side of the
oppressed; that religion is meant to tear down the systems and structures that
lift one person over another, that theology takes a side, and it is the side of
the marginalized. Using biblical support such as God’s actions in the Exodus
story, the beatitudes, and the resurrection of Jesus, Cone’s theology argues
that God’s activity in the world is the hopeful work of liberation. It is a
theology of resilience and survival, intended to give strength to those
individuals who seek to claim their dignity amidst white oppression.
Now, to borrow from a friend “I love me some liberation
theology.” It is about freedom, it is about empowerment, it is about saying “I
am worthy” and knowing that whatever source it is you acknowledge loves you. But
during the course of my first semester, I could not help noticing what I saw as
a fatal flaw in most liberation theologies – a reliance on separating oneself
from an “other.” This problem was exemplified when we learned about feminist
theologians who accused James Cone of ignoring women, womanists who said feminists
ignored women of color, queer theologians who reproached others for ignoring
the spectrum of sexual orientation, immigrants who pointed out that their
voices were silenced, the list goes on. I struggled to reconcile how those who
had been so severely marginalized were now so quick to distinguish and validate
themselves in their efforts to end their own oppression, that they ended up
ignoring the plight of everyone else in our society. I could not understand how
something that was meant to end oppression had divided us into groups that only
continued its cycle.
Holy crap! I found my contradiction! Even better, I heard
our religion’s call and could not ignore it! Challenge defeated!
Ok, so you’re probably thinking I’ve had too much coffee
this morning. First, you’re correct. But that does not take away from the
reality that Unitarian Universalism calls upon us, whether we are ministers or
members, to do something about this contradiction. In our responsive reading
this morning we said that we have religion when we “entrust ourselves to the
life that is larger than ourselves.” Unitarian Universalism responds to the
contradiction in traditional liberation theology not by saying that “I am
worthy,” but that “we are worthy.” Unitarian Universalism is a message of
universal salvation, and it calls upon us to affirm the value of all beings,
not only ourselves. So maybe, a Unitarian Universalist liberation theology is a call to
end the separation that brings about oppression. Maybe it is a call to seek freedom
together, holding at its center everyone & everything. The best part is
that we are not the only ones with this message. The Pope (the Pope!) just this
past week said the very same thing: “We are all children of God, all of us! And
God loves us, all of us!” The Pope! And my study of Islam this year has shown
me that it is a tradition that grew out of a call to free both the poor and
wealthy from a system of economic injustice.
Unitarian Universalism’s call for us to counter the separation
in our society is a daunting one, and it is not easy to answer. Every day I
wonder, “Is this even possible?” Can I, can we, actually bring about this
universal affirmation, this universal freedom? I question whether or not I possess
the skills to continue on this path to ministry, if the basis of my faith is
strong enough to have actually heard this call. But amidst my questions, I
remember the contradiction. I remember our principles, and I am able to put
trust in our journey. Bayard Rustin, a civil rights activist who helped Martin
Luther King, Jr. refine his platform of nonviolent civil disobedience, knew the
courage it took to stay on a journey amidst the never-ending questions. And so
I end my reflection with Rustin’s words as we go forth to answer our call: “To
remain human and to fulfill my commitment to a just society, I must continue to
fight for the liberation of all men (or people). There will be times when each
of us have doubts. But I trust that neither of us will desert our great cause.”
*Sermon delivered on Sunday, May 26th 2013 at the First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia, during a service co-led by Scott Youmans (Seminarian at Starr King School for the Ministry).
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