Dissonance and Harmony

Liturgical dance set to Balinese and Javanese Gamelan music, during a Service of Dissonance and Harmony at Louisville Seminary's Caldwell Chapel. The service celebrated the unity and diversity of Indonesian culture and the possibility for progressive harmony in all communities.

Presbyuniquakertarian

The past few weeks have reinforced the fact that I do not limit myself to one single faith tradition. It is not that I have studied the in-depth theologies of each faith practice and fully agree with the prescriptions of each. And it’s not that I find a glaring gap in one tradition or another, which needs to be filled, changed or altered somehow.

Instead, I feel that each expression of faith that I have encountered and hope to encounter throughout my lifetime, presents me with something worthwhile and valuable to my spiritual development.

My desire is not to meld the various spiritual paths into one cohesive, unlimited sense of the Holy… that’s God’s prerogative. Instead, I simply enjoy the fact that we all see and experience God in different ways. I take pleasure in the multiplicity of various forms of worship and prayerful communion that we have beyond our own windows of faith.

The Presbyterian tradition is one particular window or lens through which to experience God. This path offers a particular structure of worship and a means of decision making which creates order but also sustains differing points of views. There is room for dialogue and continual reformation, which was not just a one-time occasion that occurred during the 16th century.

This form of theology works well with my preference toward discipline and my tendency to color-coat my class notebooks. It’s also a very safe place in which I can explore the significance of Jesus without feeling confined by a unilateral Christology.

Despite my Presbyterian roots, according to a spirituality quiz I came across on Youthink.com, I espouse more Unitarian beliefs. This is not a fluke thing or the result of the some revelatory conversation that challenged my Protestant background. In fact, I think my upbringing in a social justice-minded, community-oriented faith community, appeals very strongly to the Unitarian Universalist path. And that’s a good thing!

I am proud that my church has nurtured a more progressive, open-minded understanding of God which celebrates ecumenism and the diversity of world religions and spiritual practices. Therefore, it is no surprise that I felt at home during my recent visit to the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Saratoga Spring.

While the structure of the service was remarkably Presbyterian, I observed some very intentional departures from Protestantism. First, the liturgy was full of inclusive language. As I’ve learned at Louisville Seminary, inclusive language is not just throwing in an occasional “she” pronoun for God. What Louisville Seminary attempts to put forth in terms of expansive language, the UU church in Saratoga has fully adopted.

The songs, prayers and sermons are devoid of any reference to God which are exclusively masculine, hierarchical or authoritative. As such, I was hard pressed to find any reference to “Lord,” or “Father.” Instead, there was beautiful imagery which immerged from the alternative words of “Source,” “Creator” and a favorite one at Louisville Seminary, “Holy One.”

All of this discussion on language and word choice can become exhausting, especially when one is really trying to say the right thing. For example, during my Introduction to Worship class, my professor asked a volunteer to open the class in prayer. It was during the first couple weeks of class and I was feeling particularly inspired. So, I proceeded to lead the class in prayer.

However, despite the emphasis on inclusive language which I heard both in class and during Chapel services, I reverted to a more conservative reference by opening with “Dear Holy Father.” I think I may have even included a few references to “Lord,” regardless of its potential reference to power and control.

I didn’t realize until later what I had done. But rather than kick myself for adopting more traditional language, I accepted the fact that those references do hold meaning for me. Rather than remove all masculine or power-based references to God, it would be more beneficial to consciously introduce additional language, further enriching one’s perception of God and the many ways God is, speaks and acts.

When I had reached my limit on the way our words limit the unlimitedness of God, it was time to just be silent. And I found that space in a wonderful forty minute Quaker meeting, which was planned as mid-week Chapel service on campus. I was familiar with this form of worship, having visited the Quaker Friends Meeting House down the street from my co-op in college.

I was aware of the Quaker commitment to silence, interrupted only by the spontaneous prayers and utterances of those present. Rather than be a time for sharing joys and concerns or the “prayers of the people” often included in Protestant worship, the words spoken had less context and were somewhat removed from the daily struggles of individuals. Instead, people shared how the spirit was moving within them at that given time, and what words God was compelling them to share.

The first student to speak simply said, “The creaking of wood in this chapel is a reminder to follow God’s path, one step at a time.” After several moments, another student shared a story of a professor she had who described our often fruitless search for God. She noted how we often act like a person desperately looking for her glasses and eventually realizing she’s wearing them. I offered a reminder to accept our wandering thoughts and not judge them, inviting them, like a busy child, to be calm and still.

The most consistent sound during our time together was the sound of our breath and the creaking and groaning of the wood rafters of the Chapel. I felt fed and nourished in a way I had not felt in a while. After spontaneously singing a traditional hymn together, we stood to exit, embracing and shaking hands in silence and walking out into a sun-filled afternoon.

As I crossed the courtyard outside of the Chapel, I felt an expanse of space in my chest and heart that was distantly familiar. It reminded me of those rare moments of clarity and spaciousness that make us feel content, healthy and alive.

While the Quaker faith connects itself to this practice of meditation, so does the Buddhist faith, just as the Christian tradition enters silence during the passing of bread and wine. Silence is the bedrock of communion with God and it is something that defies any religious identification.

Similarly, the social justice model and democratic approach to Presbyterianism is far from a unique claim to that tradition. And the Unitarian church, with its emphasis on inviting other voices and names into worship, is as much feminist as it is humanist.

As we each seek to find our own spiritual identity, I hope that we find our identity less in the names of religion and the repetition of someone else’s words and images. Instead, I hope we follow our own unique holy path, which bends and stops, waits and greets, changes and grows. And ultimately, that we find our identity through God and not in the ways we attempt to define that which is Holy.