Growing up Unitarian Universalist

Reflections by Rand Barthel, Kat Egan, & Margaret Barthel

August 10, 2008 at the First Universalist Society in Franklin

Rand Barthel:

I recently had to replace one of those blue UU bumper stickers on my car because it had faded too much to read. It said “Unitarian Universalists - The Uncommon Denomination.” Perhaps some of you have that one too. One of the ways we are uncommon as a religious movement is that, unlike most faith traditions, most of our active members did not grow up as Unitarian Universalists but instead came to us from another tradition. The statistic I have heard is that about 12% of active UUs were born and raised in the UU faith. The membership of FUSF appears to bear that out - both our ministers grew up in Christian congregations, and a good half of the lay members seem to have Catholic backgrounds.

So what’s special about growing up UU? Let me be clear at the outset that I do hold my UU upbringing as a very special privilege, and I am profoundly grateful to my parents for having given it to me. They went through a good deal of soul-searching, mental struggle, and family conflict to break out of a conceptual box that was too small for their spirits, and they saved me the trouble of doing all that.

I think that what really makes growing up UU different is a set of assumptions that come to pervade your consciousness from a very early age, and that form a distinctive frame of reference for living. These go way beyond the Principles or any of the other verbiage UUs have come up with to capture our faith.

The first of these assumptions is what I call the Zeroth Principle: It’s Up To Me. I am responsible for what I believe and why: no one can do my believing for me. I was not told what to think or believe as a child; I heard a lot about what my parents believed and why, and about the main ideas of our faith tradition, and about other faith traditions. But it was always truly up to me to come to my own conclusions about “biggies” like God, the meaning of life, death and the afterlife, good and evil, and so on.

Underlying “It’s up to me” is another assumption: “I am worthy and capable.” Unlike virtually every other faith tradition on the planet, we trust the individual human being to find his or her own answers to the great questions of life. To grow up UU is to grow up with an implicit confidence in your capacity to find your own way. I have never felt the need to depend on any kind of authority structure for answers.

Which brings me to the next assumption that makes UU upbringing unique: Nobody Is In Charge. Of course we UUs don’t all have the same theological perspective, and some UUs embrace a more or less traditional theism. But for me, and for many of us, an invisible man up in the sky, watching over our shoulders and judging our actions, was never part of my mental universe. There is no ultimate authority, no rock we can cling to, no voice of power outside ourselves to tell us what to do and how to be. Our spiritual universe is a democracy, not an empire. We must be lamps unto our selves, as Gautama Buddha told his disciples. How do we do that, afloat as we are on a sea of conflicting information, hopes, ideas, desires, anxieties, and fears? Fortunately there are some stars we can steer by. Some of these are reason, curiosity, integrity, and love.

Reason is how we distinguish the true from the false, and I was helped to generous doses of it as a child. Reasons stood ten deep behind everything my parents said they believed, and that was also true of the grown-ups they hung out with, most of whom also went to Birmingham Unitarian Church. There were also usually reasons why I had to do the things I was told to do. Often those reasons had to do with respecting other people’s feelings and needs. Thus from and early age I imbibed the UU assumption that reason is a powerful tool for living that should play a guiding role in our lives.

Reason can only work if it has information to work on, hence the importance of curiosity. Questions are good, and the bigger the better. From my earliest childhood, my parents fanned the flames of my curiosity every way they could think of. They subscribed to National Geographic, encouraged my interest in the space program, and showered me with books full of the wonders of our world. Even more important than that, when I had questions, they took them seriously, gave me thoughtful, adult answers (full of really good reasons), and trusted my child’s mind to be able to handle the information.

For reason to have authority in our lives, we must have allegiance to truth and reality, hence the importance of integrity. If we are to trust ourselves to find our own way, we must be worthy of our own trust. Whenever I did something I shouldn’t have as a child, the consequences were always much worse if I lied about it than if I ‘fessed up. I really think that if UUs had written the Garden of Eden story, the Original Sin would have been dishonesty rather than disobedience. Heaven knows we’re no good at obeying authority!

If we take fear of God’s vengeance off the table, then we must find some other basis for morality. Why be good, anyway? Well, for me, God’s vengeance was never on the table to begin with. It became self-evident to me, through my UU upbringing, that actually giving a hoot about the people we share this life with is a far more reliable guide to moral living than thinking that the invisible man will roast us if we do wrong. I have found, through my upbringing and a lot of living since, that virtue is its own reward, and that evil is its own punishment.

No discussion of growing up UU would be complete without my saying something about the last “biggie”: death. Fear of death is probably the No. 1 thing that motivates people in their billions to embrace superstitions, salvation religions, and other forms of wishful thinking. What is it like to grow up without a belief in an afterlife? I think what it really does is to focus one’s thoughts on the poignant, vital importance of THIS life. This is it. This is our chance. It’s not a dress rehearsal for something else. What are we going to do with it? What would make it mean something? As a UU “lifer”, I live with that question every day.

A few years ago, when my wife, Carolyn, was serving other UU churches as DRE, she brought home a book by Sophia Fahs which I started to read. (Never finished it because I’m too doggone busy!) Sophia Fahs, as some of you know, was the “founding mother” of UU religious education: she started much of what we do with our children in RE (and what was done with me as a child). The first two chapters of Fahs’ book were entitled: “It matters what we believe” and “It matters how we acquire our beliefs.” I think a UU upbringing is a very special and wonderful way to acquire beliefs that may never be final, but are authentic and fully

Kat Egan:

For those of you that may not know me, I am Kathleen Egan, the daughter of Rev. Carol Rosine. Unlike a lot of people in this congregation, I was raised Unitarian Universalist from a very early age. Although becoming a child of a UU minister has partly shaped my personality and created interesting dynamics in my life, that topic will have to wait for another day!! Instead I’ve been asked to talk a little bit about what it was like to be raised UU, and what has brought me back to Unitarian Universalism as an adult.

Being raised UU was nothing but a positive experience for me. Before my mother entered seminary, our family was part of a UU congregation in Manchester, CT, which was like a large extended family. I was as close to many of the adults in the congregation, as I was to the other children. Our congregation, along with others in our district, would spend a week every summer camping up at Ferry Beach. Or we would spend weekends cross-country skiing in Vermont while staying in a converted barn.

I was taught sex education by my friend’s parents in About Your Sexuality, a precursor to the Our Whole Lives curriculum. I thought that was pretty cool- as I knew my other Catholic and Protestant friends were not getting that kind of education at their churches or homes at the age of 11 or 12. I think I also got a bit of a reputation giving the neighbor kids education on sexuality before their parents were ready for it.

I also remember going to anti-nukes rallies and women’s rights marches with my family and others from church. For me, growing up UU was less about a certain set of spiritual or religious beliefs, but more about a way of living in the world. There was no threat of hell or damnation if I didn’t live in a certain manner, but instead being UU was a loving, enriching experience for me. I wanted to be a good person in the world and wanted injustice for the oppressed to be lessened.

Our minister, Arnold Westwood, split his ministry between our congregation in Manchester and the Amherst, MA church. Since he lived in the Berkshires, he would often stay overnight at homes of his parishioners. Our home was a frequent place he stayed, and I gave up my bedroom for him when he visited. I came to think of him as part of our extended family, even calling him Uncle Arnold. I came to have nothing but love and affection for him, being such a warm, gentle soul. When I was younger I was pretty sure there was no God (and I still question it today). However, I did think that if there was a God, God must be like Arnold.

For about 12 years after leaving home to go to college and to start my life as an adult, I rarely attended a UU service, except at Christmas and when I was home visiting mom. I always considered myself a UU, but for a long while didn’t feel the need to be a part of a congregation.

By 2002, at the age of 30, something shifted in me. I was single, a fairly new social worker working with homeless families, and was feeling a bit lost. I no longer had my tight network of friends that I had back in college. I tried meeting people through pursuing social interests, such as hiking or volunteer work, but it wasn’t a consistent community of people, that I could rely on for deeper needs. And the post 9/11 world felt like a different, less secure place. I felt a need to be connected to others with liberal-minded beliefs, who I could possibly develop strong connections.

In September of 2002 I started attending First Parish in Cambridge, and soon afterwards became a member. I became very involved with our 30-Somethings group, from which I have developed some very close, important friends. And with time, I took on different leadership roles, such as being a co-leader of the Coming of Age program, and being on a Transition Team that helped the congregation in the process of calling a new minister to its pulpit.

Another important experience for me, in these last few years, has been to be a part of a covenant group with some wonderful women. This group has challenged me to think more about my spirituality and belief system. Being an American, culturally I was raised Christian-ish. For instance, celebrating Christmas and Easter, more as American holidays, rather than sacred, religious, holy days.

But I also knew from a very early age, that I had difficulty with the Jesus figure. That I thought Jesus was a pretty important, perhaps holy, man in history- but I never thought of him as divine, as the Son of God. And I never thought that he was the most holy person ever to walk the earth- that there were many others throughout the ages that had knowledge to impart, or ways of living to model. Through more intense discussions with my covenant group women, I have developed a more comfortable relationship with Jesus, and the Christianity that came after him.

I’m still not sure if I could consider myself a Christian, if I don’t believe in the divinity of Jesus, or that he is the Savior that Christians are waiting for. However, I do strongly believe in the life that Jesus led and the social change he was trying to impart with his actions. These are the beliefs that I hold close to my heart and lead me in the way I try to live my life.

Unitarian Universalism has helped me choose my career of social work, helping the underserved and often forgotten part of society. It has kept me focused on justice and equity - such as standing in solidarity on the Cambridge City Hall steps at midnight, May 17, 2004, when gay marriage became legal in the Commonwealth. And it has shaped my relationships with people of varying cultures, backgrounds and social classes- honoring the inherent worth and dignity of every person.

I can now see that for me, Unitarian Universalism is my way of life.

Margaret Barthel:

We got the call from Carol way back in June or something. There was some service happening in August that she wanted my dad to participate in, since he’s this incredible anomaly because he grew up with a couple of crazy UUs, instead of transforming into one later in life. Obviously he accepted the job (who can refuse Carol, after all?).

Then they realized that my father has gone from being raised by crazy UUs to raising crazy UU offspring (one of which is me). Ah-ha, the Generational Perspective! Carol said. And, since I can’t refuse Carol either, I am now standing before you, your very own handcrafted Generational Perspective on growing up UU.

Disclaimer: Take heed! Generational Perspective got snookered into this. Generational Perspective blithely accepted her duty without really thinking it through. Generational Perspective does not have a clue and may be strange and incoherent, but will still try at least.

What’s it like growing up UU? Well, first of all, the Elevator Speech is great in grade school. Imagine this: you’re a fifth grader, and a bunch of your friends are all stating their religion. “I’m Catholic,” says one. “I’m Jewish,” says another. And then someone asks you the question: “Hey, what religion are you?” You smile slowly (milking it for all it’s worth) and then enunciate proudly: “I’m a Unitarian Universalist.” Of course, your announcement has the desired result: the kids all look at you in awe; they all clamor to know what those really really long words mean; the earth shakes; lightning cracks the sky in two; and you are queening it over all the fifth-grade cosmos, simply because you are a Unitarian Universalist and no one else knows what in heck that means.

All levity aside, this growing up UU question is a poser because being UU is such a personal experience for me. I’m not really sure where the growing up UU piece of my childhood stops and where the vast rest of it all begins, because Unitarian Universalism has always been inextricably tangled with who I am.

So, I guess the only thing for it is to describe snapshots of my life that have UU things in them. You be the judge of whether my experience is accurate or not.

The first thing I remember about growing up UU was my brother and I standing up on the pews so that we could see the hymnal over our parents’ shoulders, since we were far too short to see anything otherwise. The pews in question were the pews of the first church I ever attended, the Mendon-Uxbridge UU church. Actually, this particular congregation was insane: they owned two very beautiful classic New England churches, white steeples and all, and they moved back and forth between them according to the seasons. This didn’t mean much to me at the time, except that I stood on the pews of both churches. I was an equal opportunity pew-stander. Justice, equity, and compassion, right?

I remember other things about these years: how excited I always was to get to dress up to go to church. How the parish hall was big enough to play games in. How I was a shepherd in one Christmas pageant and an angel in the next.

But all good things, even pew-standing, must come to an end. The Mendon-Uxbridge congregation was in its awkward position due to a botched and hasty merger years before, and tensions began to soar when the budget squirmed under the weight of upkeep for both buildings. Then the old-timers who’d grown up in town and the new-timers (like my parents) started squabbling. My parents went to a lot of committee meetings and came home with smoke issuing from their ears. So there was a lesson right away: UUs and committee meetings are like pigs and mud: you can’t separate the two.

I accepted leaving Mendon-Uxbridge with a bad grace, if only because it was a familiar place and I was a very shy girl. Now that I look back on my experience there, I don’t think it really provided me with a basic sense of what being UU really meant. I had vague ideas about personal beliefs and self-discovery, most of which had been instilled by my parents, but they were clouded by the fact that we still sang the doxology in every service.

And so, as a transplanted nine-year-old, I put in my first appearance at Marvin Chapel. Church still didn’t mean a whole lot to me, other than that it was something to do on Sundays, but now it was fearsome because I had to meet a whole other bunch of people. Nevertheless, I got signed up for UU Journey and Sunday school and the whole bit. Yes. My parents were evil tyrants. Still are.

UU Journey was a turning point for me in understanding what it meant to be a UU. I have always liked when things are written down on paper, assignments that I can check off in an orderly way. So, when I got that UU Journey workbook, I got right down to business. Suddenly, church and the Seven Principles weren’t just something that I went and did on Sundays--they were things that I was supposed to live by throughout the week.

In fact, sometimes I couldn’t help but do UU things during the week. My mom was working then as a DRE, and some days she’d pick Jonathan and me up from school and we’d drive to her church and she’d work while the two of us would slowly but surely become mind-numbingly bored. I mean, I knew that being a UU was great and all, but sometimes I could practically feel myself getting older. So much for “compassion in human relations,” Mom.

But, all in all, it has been a great ride here at FUSF so far, full of self-discovery and happiness. Need some examples? Well, there’s how I overcame the idea of being the second little violinist in church. There’s how awesome Youth Group is--so awesome that we’ve all gone swimming in Lake Pearl when it was 65 and rainy and stayed up half the night at lock-ins. There’s how I did my Coming of Age credo and lost most of my fear about speaking to large groups. There’s how I’m on first-name and hugging terms with our minister. There’s how I get to sing in the choir and complain about the high notes before 9 in the morning to Rick. There’s how I get to make you all laugh at the Senior Youth Service. There’s how I’ve found wonderful friends of all ages, some with rather unusual fruity names.

I hope I’m making it clear that I think this is a very special community, one that I can count on to be accepting of me no matter what. As a teenager trying to navigate the tricky social maze of being not quite a child and not quite an adult, this place and this religion--are havens. Isn’t that what Unitarian Universalism comes down to, after all? Unconditional, respectful, and compassionate acceptance of the individual and their beliefs? It doesn’t matter how many people I’m friends with at school, or how I dress, or what my aspirations are. I love that. That’s the reason I don’t quit coming to church, even when all my other obligations crowd in--because Unitarian Universalism is no-holds-barred love.

This coming year I’ll be a senior, so my days at FUSF as a regular member of the Barthel row are numbered. While I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to find a church community like this when I go to college, you all have made a deep UU impression on me.

I’ll leave you with this: at most of the colleges I’ve been considering, I check around for UU things on campus or in the surrounding area. My parents were both surprised and very happy at this dedication to Unitarian Universalism. And, being the Generational Perspective that I am, I rolled my eyes and said, “Oh. Yeah. Duh.”

Thanks.