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| THERE IS NO HELL IN MERRICKVILLE [A Pledge Sunday Sermon] READING I - "THE OGRE IN THE PIT" In olde England there were Knights. The story is told of a particular Knight who chanced upon a remote village where he was told of a terrible ogre living in a pit outside the town. He decided to take up the challenge and rid the town of this menace. Even though many had gone to the pit before . . . and none had returned. The Knight stood at the edge of the pit looking into the deep, dark hole. The opening was so narrow that just to enter the pit he was forced to strip himself of his armour and unnecessary clothing. He was able to take only a long dagger, which he tied around his neck on a leather strap. After securing a rope and testing its strength, he gripped it firmly and began to lower himself, hand under hand, letting the rope slip between his feet. Soon he felt the cool damp smooth dark floor of the chamber. It took several minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Soon he focused on a large mound. With a start he realized it was the bones of his predecessors, along with their assorted weapons. A little way off he spotted another mound, but he couldn't make out what it was. Suddenly, he was surprised by the inhabitant of the pit - especially surprised because he didn't anticipate that the ogre would be only as tall as a rabbit. The ogre waved its arms and screeched with its squeaky voice, trying to appear as fierce as possible. The Knight picked up a sword from the floor and prepared to do battle, but quick as a rat, the ogre ran into a hole beneath the second mound. The Knight was in quick pursuit. As the second mound became clearer he was amazed . . . Before his eyes there glittered balls of gold as big as grapefruits and diamonds as big as plums. With only a small part of that treasure, any commoner would be a prince for life. The little ogre lost its importance in view of the large treasure. But the Knight had a problem. How would he carry it out of the pit? He had no pockets. Who would believe him if he didn't bring back at least one piece? An idea popped into his head! He would place a small diamond in his mouth and carry it that way until he had climbed out of the pit. He could always come back later for the rest. Hurriedly he chose one of the most brilliant diamonds. It fit comfortably into his mouth. He began the arduous climb out of the pit, hand over hand, gripping the rope with his feet. His tongue held the diamond tightly against the roof of his mouth. Higher and higher he climbed. The heavy exertion was making him breathless. Nearly to daylight, he had to suck in a huge breath of air. The diamondslipped and stuck in his throat. The knight choked, gasping, the harder he tried to get air in the more tightly wedged the diamond became. He lost consciousness, slipped from his perch, and fell to his death on the mound of bones below. ["The Ogre in the Pit," ANON, Hewett, editor, Illustrations Unlimited(Wheaton, Illinois: Tyndale House) 1988, p. 372-3.] READING II In the 1820's and 30's, Upper Canada was ruled by an insolent tight knit inbred and corrupt Troy clique known as the "Family Compact". They stayed in power through patronage which reflected an older form of governance from a time when there were fewer people and less diversity. By the 1830's Upper Canada was filling with evangelicals and immigrants. It was inevitable that there would be resistance to the "Family Compact." Resistance at first came from fringe groups - a band of 800 pitchfork wielding rebels led by William Lyon MacKenzie marched on Toronto in 1837 in an attempt to overthrow the "Family Compact" and establish a real democratic government. The local militia quickly dispersed the crowd and MacKenzie soon fled to the States. Anyone in MERRICKVILLE who supported MacKenzie stood out like a sore thumb. One such person was Basil Rorison Church. He had moved to Canada from Vermont in 1831. As a medical doctor he was accorded automatic respect and his opinions were sought out. It was not long, however, before the people of Merrickville understood that they had a maverick in their midst. Church had married a Universalist in the States and had a reputation as a Universalist preacher of some note. Basil Church believed in freedom and individuality. Such ideas were anathema to local communities and especially difficult for the Family Compact. The local churches did not know what to make of this man who said that God loved everyone, and always did and always would, and that He was too forgiving to condemn any of His children to Hell. Combined with Church's individualism, the Universalism seemed to say there were no checks on the behaviour or thought of this man. Terrence Smith, the loyalist after whose father Smiths Falls was named, did not like the Doctor. Smith complained that Church was holding secret meetings against the government. Smith represented the rest of the Merrickville community as having long wanted Church's conduct reported to the Lieutenant Governor. Church was blamed for spreading infidel principles throughout the country when he traveled as a physician. Church did not let the charges get to him. He was later elected to the legislature of the Province of Canada and for two terms sat as a quiet back-bencher, the member for North Leeds-Grenville. He died in 1858 while attending Parliament. I was excited to hear about this Universalist connection to Merrickville, but also disappointed by the fact that Church seems not to have used his considerable preaching skills to attract a community of Universalists. He did not leave any money for the founding of a church. He did not gather any Universalist following. He did it all alone, and afterward there was very little left except a few short stories. [fr. MERRICKVILLE- JEWEL ON THE RIDEAU, p. 120-123] and Canadian Encyclopedia] SERMON The Knight succumbed to his individual greed . . . one horse of the apocalypse residing in the human soul. He forgot the great purpose for which he entered the pit. One might understand individual temptation and seduction well enough to forgive the Knight, especially since he paid so high a price for his lapse. Basil Church set up a conflict with his Universalist faith by living out a highly honed individualism. He never seemed to have a purpose. In Parliament he languished as a back bencher. It is hard to understand how one can appear to believe so deeply in Universalism and yet succumb to the private seductions of individualism. He never made an attempt to be part of a like minded community. Rugged individualism was enough for Basil Rorison Church. Perhaps, isolated in Merrickville, one believer that there was no hell was all the community could tolerate - to get rid of him, they sent him to Parliament! Basil Church's individualism, I contend had nothing to do with Universalism which has always been a faith calling people to loving and caring community. His individualism has more to do with a persona which Universalist values could have challenged and helped to grow - beyond rugged individualism, had they the ongoing support of a community. Too much individualism can easily frustrate, disempower, and undermine community. Our culture, struggling with community, is rife with individualism. Philip Slater spoke of it in 1970. The Pursuit of Loneliness[(Boston: Beacon Press) 1970, p. 5.] was the title of his book exploring fragmentation of the individual in America. He wrote that the yearning for community, engagement and dependence were so aggravated and Americans had so alienated themselves from the very pathways to affirmative community, meaningful engagement and trusting dependence that these very things became a threat when they appeared. It is rather like the sexually abused child for whom the love of a parent has become toxic - the very love which the child yearns for might be provided by a mate later in life, but trust has become such an issue that even love itself can not be of any assistance. The individualism of Basil Church may be admired by many. It was described by Philip Slater 130 years later. That individualism continues to guide us today. As a result of its intensity, we have become fragmented. Reginald Bibby of Lethbridge speaks of our Gods as fragmented. While I can understand the Knight succumbing to one of the perennial demons in the human soul, greed, it is harder to understand when anyone accepts the ravages of individualism into their lives and denies themselves the correctives and supports of communities of faith. If you find my description of Church too strong, remember that critique is born of culture, and I am part of a growing congregation seeking to establish a second Unitarian society in Ottawa. My friends, faith and individualism are at odds. While faith leads to dependence, individualism leads to independence. While dependence can be crippling, so too can independence. Somewhere there is a balance to be struck, between the pursuit of faith and the development and security of the individual. There is a balance to be struck. Jenny Lind, the great Swedish soprano, disappointed many of her friends because she turned down so many lucrative contracts that would have made her world-famous. One day a friend surprised her sitting on a sunny seashore alone, reading the New Testament. The friend rebuked the singer for not seizing her chances in life. Quickly, Jenny Lind put her hand over the Testament and said, "I found that making vast sums of money was spoiling my taste for this." [Hewett, p. 374.] Jenny Lind chose the trusting dependency that can come through faith as something to balance the tugs of money, prestige, and fame . . . horses of the apocalypse riding in the soul of each individual. She chose her faith. If we are not dedicated to a faith of some sort, we are at the mercy of prevailing fads, easily manipulated. But it is not enough to choose faith alone. There must also be a dedication to that faith and a trust in where it can take us. Many years ago in a mental institution outside Boston, a young girl known as "Little Annie" was locked in a dungeon. The dungeon was the only place, said the doctors, for those who were hopelessly insane. In Little Annie's case, they saw no hope for her, so she was consigned to a living death in that tiny cage which received little light and even less hope. About that time, an elderly nurse, who sounds like a Universalist, was nearing retirement. She felt there was hope for all of God's children, so she started taking her lunch into the dungeon and eating outside Little Annie's cage. She felt that perhaps she should communicate some life and hope to the little girl. In many ways, little Annie was like an animal. On occasions, she would violently attack the person who came into her cage. At other times, she would completely ignore them. When the elderly nurse started visiting her, Little Annie gave no indication that she was even aware of her presence. One day, the elderly nurse brought some brownies to the dungeon and left them outside the cage. Little Annie gave no hint that she knew they were there, but when the nurse returned the next day, they were gone. From that time on the nurse would bring brownies when she made her Thursday visit. Soon after, the doctors in the institution noticed a change was taking place. After a period of time they decided to move Little Annie upstairs. Finally, the day came when the "hopeless case" was told she could return home. But Little Annie did not wish to leave. She chose to stay, to help others. It was Little Annie who cared for, taught, and nurtured Helen Keller, for Little Annie's name was Annie Sullivan. [Hewett, p. 283-4.] From the old retired nurse who made visits to Little Annie to Annie Sullivan's nurturing of Hellen Keller the basics of human community were passed - dedication to another person's development and well being. These people were not out for themselves. They did not stuff their mouths full of diamonds. Just as faith calls upon us to give up some of our individuality, to moderate individuality's potential for becoming a demon in human life, dedication means that we give ourselves to something. Something becomes important enough to moderate our individualism. So it is faith and dedication which are required to live well in this age of fragmentation. But faith and dedication alone, which might have been marks of Basil Church's being, are not enough for a successful religion. Faith which is only spoken is dead. Dedication able to be strangled in hard times is not dedication at all. There must be something more. While on sabbatical several years ago I travelled in Wales with my two older children, Ben and Sarah. As we wound our way through the hills of South Wales on our way to Carmarthen, the home of the mythical magician Merlin, we ran across an incredible tale. Late in the winter of 1863, a young mother was making her way across the hills of South Wales carrying her tiny baby in her arms when she was overtaken by a blinding blizzard. She never reached her destination. When the blizzard had subsided her body was found by a search team beneath a mound of snow. The searchers discovered that this woman, before her death, had taken off all her outer clothing and wrapped them about her baby. Sadly they unwrapped the child, and to their great surprise and joy, they found that he was alive and well. She had mounded her body over his and given her warmth to keep him alive. Years later, this child, grown to manhood, became the Prime Minister of England, leading the nation through World War One, fighting for a non-vindictive treaty at Versailles, and spearheaded legislation creating the socialist welfare state in Britain. David Lloyd George was one of England's greatest statesmen. [Hewett, p. 375.] Now, my friends, I am not asking you to wrap your faith with your clothing, to drain off all your resources for your faith, or to die for your faith. Heaven knows, we might well follow in the footsteps of David Lloyd George's mother and give our lives for our own children. And while we have examples of martyrs for our faith in Michael Servetus, burned at the stake by John Calvin at Geneva in 1553, and Francis David imprisoned for practicing Unitarianism in the Transylvania of 1579, there dying after three months, martyrdom is not what is demanded of us in this age. What is demanded is sacrifice. Wrapping her clothing around her baby and then giving that baby the protection of her own dwindling body heat, this woman gave of her most precious resources to give life a chance. When we practice faith, dedication and sacrifice, we avoid the fate of the Knight, greed and the sure fall to an ignoble death. When we practice faith, dedication and sacrifice, we tame the individualism which isolated Basil Church, which, though it served him, did not build or sustain, it did not empower any community in such a way that his spiritual values would find a place where others might be encouraged to grow and strengthen such values themselves. There was no place for the spirit to be nurtured and grow strong. It did not endow life. We have an advantage that Basil Church did not have. We have a congregation of like minded seekers. It was first gathered here nearly 100 years ago by people seeking a community of support in which their beliefs could flourish, their faith deepen. Its first minister was called and first church built by visionaries who wanted of a place where the values of Unitarianism could find a home, where individuals believing in Unitarianism could continue their search for truth and together act on their values. Nearly 30 years ago the swamp on which this building now stands became an improbable locus for the dreams of Unitarians for a home whose architecture reflected their beliefs in openness, light, and called forth their connections to the natural world. And ten years ago a people of faith who had spent years of dedicated effort, who had sacrificed time and money, broke ground on a senior's residence which has become an international model for community. This, my friends, is your church. This is a congregation of people whose faith is Unitarianism, in all its rich breadth, and its breathtaking depth. This my friends, is your church, this congregation of people dedicated to faith in the possibility for goodness, growth and change in every human being. This my friends is your church, this congregation where people have sacrificed that you may have, unencumbered, a place of nurture and support for your faith. In these days much is demanded of us . . . We must do what Basil Church did not do . . . and we shall do it together. We will offer a place, this place, and here provide a suitable atmosphere for worship, meditation, celebration and fellowship. We will help children and young people and adults to develop their potential spiritually, emotionally and intellectually. As a people and as individuals we will maintain a high level of commitment to the quest for truth and to action based on our conclusions. We will strive to increase the moral and religious awareness in individual and in society. We will participate in alleviating and resolving social problems and conflicts through personal and collective action. We will promote the worth and dignity of every person; strive for a just, peaceful and caring world community; and encourage the responsible use of the earth and its resources. As individuals, committed to this faith, we will take an active part in and assume responsibility for the well being of this congregation, its facilities, programs and staffing. [see Approach To Religion statement, First Unitarian Congregation of Ottawa, 1983] I am well aware that this church is only one of many tugs in your lives - but, my friends, . . . if religious faith is to mean anything at all . . . it is to be found at the base of all that we do. It is not just a social club nor it is just another charity. It is not just another place to volunteer. This church has a different quality which Basil Church could not access, a quality which might have, in the first place, led the Knight to a different approach to the Ogre in the pit. This church is a place where there is support for Jenny Lind as she resists the hedonistic, materialistic and narcissistic tugs of our culture. This church is a place where the values of compassion, hope and love are taught so that the retiring nurse might take on "Little Annie," week after week, and "Little Annie" grown up to Annie Sullivan might take on Helen Keller, week after week, trusting in the potential and dignity of each person. This church is a place where stories of great human courage and sacrifice are told and we are encouraged to use our courage and to learn about sacrifice in this safe setting so that when the chips are down we will find the resources to sacrifice what is needed. My friends, this sermon is the kick off for our pledge drive. And I am worried. I am not worried because so many of us are unemployed. I am not worried because so many of us have had no salary increase in five or more years. I am not worried because assistance from the Province is being cut for so many of our families. My friends, these are mean times and we can help each other through these crises! I am worried because, again, surveys of major denominations in the U.S. and Canada show that Unitarians give less than any other religious group. I am worried, you see, because our personal budgets are theological statements and while we may also give to other charities, the church is not a high priority for many of us. I am worried because I want to see this church survive for our children's children, as a vibrant example of what a free faith can do. Many people will simply say they can not give more . . . and I understand. Yet I must ask you this . . . Are you choosing the path of Jenny Lind, forgoing riches to enable a strong faith? Are you acting out of a faith in other people and wanting in part to repay the gifts we have been given over our lifetimes . . . like Annie Sullivan? Are we willing to make a sacrifice? These are the things we should dwell on . . . not fear of giving too much . . . not the individualism of our faith . . . What will happen when you make your pledge - Will you fall prey to the Knight's demons and let your spirit fall to its death . . . or lead us down the path of Basil Church where there will be no place for your children and grandchildren, no place for visitors seeking a congregation which empowers and supports dignity? What will happen? I close with a final story. It is told for the sake of those asking for the money as much as for the rest of us: The strong man in the circus had an impressive finale to his act. He took out an orange and squeezed out its last drops of juice. Then he would offer one thousand dollars to anyone who was able to squeeze a single drop from it. He went from town to town making this offer, but no one was able to win the one thousand dollars from him. Then one day he came to a town in the Valley and made his demonstration of juice-squeezing prowess and his challenge. A small wizened, ninety eight pound weakling came forward and said he'd like to take a try at the challenge. He took the crushed orange peel and proceeded to squeeze six more drops from it. The strong man was amazed. He could hardly believe his eyes. He asked the old many how he was possibly able to do this. The old man shrugged and said, "I'm the treasurer at the local Baptist church and we do this all the time." [Billy Graham in Hewett, p. 371.] My friends, find a way to do it, and all the riches spoken of in the sermon this morning might just be closer to being yours. |
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