"Adventures in Wesleyland"

Readings:

Gospel of Luke Chapter 4, Verses 1-13 (NRSV translation)

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the desert, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing during those days, and at the end of them he was hungry.

The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread."

Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone.'"

The devil led him up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And he said to him, "I will give you all their authority and splendor, for it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to. So if you worship me, it will all be yours."

Jesus answered, "It is written: 'Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.'"

The devil led him to Jerusalem and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. "If you are the Son of God," he said, "throw yourself down from here. For it is written: "'He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.'"

Jesus answered, "It says: `Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"

When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time.

2. From Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.

`Who are you?' said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, `I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'

`What do you mean by that?' said the Caterpillar sternly. `Explain yourself!'

`I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir' said Alice, `because I'm not myself, you see.'

`I don't see,' said the Caterpillar.

`I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly,' Alice replied very politely, `for I can't understand it myself to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.'

`It isn't,' said the Caterpillar.

`Well, perhaps you haven't found it so yet,' said Alice; `but when you have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?'

`Not a bit,' said the Caterpillar.

`Well, perhaps your feelings may be different,' said Alice; `all I know is, it would feel very queer to me.'

`You!' said the Caterpillar contemptuously. `Who are you?'

SERMON: Adventures in Wesleyland

When I was a kid, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland scared me so much, I couldn’t finish the book. All those angry, wild characters with unpredictable behavior. The Queen of Hearts frightened me the most, crying out at the slightest provocation, “Off with her head!” My childish mind just couldn’t understand Lewis Carroll’s humor. It also didn’t help that kids in my elementary school called me ‘Alice in Wonderland’, an easy shift from my name, Alison Wilbur. I grew up hating the name Alice. But here I am, embracing the story as a metaphor for my seminary journey. This Alison standing before you now can say, I’ve visited Wonderland and safely come back to tell my tale. Wonderland is Wesleyland, or Wesley Theological Seminary.

I’m telling my story because I’m often asked what it’s like to be a Unitarian Universalist in a Christian seminary. The very question implies that Christians are something different from UUs, and of course, like nearly everything else about us, that’s both true and not true. I generally don’t call myself a Christian because I’m not a creedal Trinitarian. On the other hand, I affirm Jesus’ teachings to love your neighbor and serve the oppressed and powerless. We are different, yet alike.

I’m also telling you about my adventures in Wesleyland because I hope in some small way to inform your own understanding of Christian beliefs and how we may respond to the larger Christian culture.

I chose to attend Wesley, a United Methodist seminary, for mostly practical reasons. Located in Washington, DC, next to American University, it was close to my home in Fairfax. Certainly a lot closer than our two UU theological schools: Starr King in Berkeley, and Meadville-Lombard in Chicago.

Besides location, I thought Wesley would be good for me, you know—like nasty medicine one takes to get well. I was born and raised a UU, for a future minister I felt my understanding of Christianity was too limited. Yes, my UU religious education classes gave me basic knowledge, but I wanted more. Evangelical, fundamentalist Christianity speaks with great power in our society. If liberal voices are to speak with equal power, I wanted to know the opposition better. And, I hoped to learn ways to bridge our differences.

Admittedly, I once held an immature, dismissive view of Christians as weak and ignorant—after all, they need the hope of an afterlife and deny evolution, don’t they? I drew the Christian box pretty small and shallow. Attending a Christian seminary seemed like the right way to eliminate my prejudices. With that in mind, I took my medicine; like Alice, I drank the vial that said “Drink me,” and my adventures in Wesleyland began.

The first hint that I was entering a curious world came during student orientation. For dinner we sat in our denominational groups in the refectory, or dining hall. Professors sat one per table to welcome the new students, and we UUs randomly selected one. Like Alice at the tea party, we managed to find the table with the Mad Hatter, otherwise known as the systematic theology professor.

Systematic theology is about a systematic approach to religious belief. Like any system, it is clear, developed, and doesn’t change, although there is room for minor variation within limited boundaries. Christianity is systematic, evidenced by its creedal statement of belief, unchanged since ancient days. Unitarian Universalism, in contrast, has very wide boundaries; we’re okay with changes in our beliefs over time; and, dare I say—many of us are proudly unsystematic in our thinking! UU’sm is typically called a process theology because it is an ongoing process with no creed or ‘must finish here’ position. I’ve grossly over-simplified these two positions to make my point:  the Systematics professor didn’t speak our language. But what became even curiouser, to quote Alice, I discovered my fellow UUs weren’t speaking my language either!

At dinner the professor asked why we UUs chose Wesley. I mumbled something about the diverse student body, then another UU volunteered, “I don’t think this is a place non-theist UUs would choose. They just wouldn’t fit in.” Her assumption was that Wesley was acceptable if you didn’t believe in the divinity of Christ, but if you also didn’t believe in God, then Wesley wouldn’t be a good fit. This ‘fact’ was so obvious, she assumed all at the table were theists.

Oh boy. Alarm bells may have been ringing across DC, but I was deaf that night. I kindly pointed out to my table-mates that this particular UU was a non-theist, and I expected Wesley would fit very nicely. Hey, I thought I could just as easily dismiss God as Christ. What was I thinking? Like Alice without a map, I’d be traversing territory made hostile by devout Trinitarians and fellow UUs?! Tell me it isn’t so! Let me echo the Queen of Hearts, “Off with their heads!”

On my first day of my first class, Hebrew Bible, a less Christian-centric way to refer to the Old Testament, my instructor stood at the lectern. To begin class she held up the Bible and spoke some words. If you were brought up in a Protestant tradition and you know the standard response after someone reads from the Bible, please indulge me. I hope we’ll recreate my experience for those who are equally clueless. So, imagine I’ve just read the Lukan passage Rev. Mary read earlier, then I say, “This is the word of the Lord.”

[The congregation responded: “Thanks be to God.”]

Perfect. Thank you. If you’re bewildered, that’s how I felt. They let me into seminary, but no one told me there were secret rituals and passwords I needed to know! Would secret handshakes be next? Take back that bottle marked, “Drink me”!

Actually, don’t. My Hebrew Bible classes were wonderful. Denise Hopkins, the professor, started the class in this manner to provoke students into reflecting on their views of the Bible. Was it the inerrant word of God? Was it the God-inspired word of man? Or was it the errant word of man about God? (And it was men in those days.)

My response took the far left, liberal side of the question, while others took the extreme right, the fundamentalist side, but many students hovered at the center. Hopkins challenged the two extremes to rethink our views of the Bible. I realized I was just like the fundamentalists because I interpreted the Bible literally.

Wesley professors teach that the Bible is inspired by God, but not the direct word of God, and not without error. It was written during specific times, at specific places, by specific people who had specific purposes. Hopkins emphasized that the context of the biblical writings should not be separated from how we read and understand the Bible today.

Suddenly, Genesis wasn’t about science, but the theology of assurance, that God would still the chaos in the oppressed ancient Hebrew people’s lives. Suddenly, the gospel of Luke describing Satan’s temptation of Jesus wasn’t necessarily about a red devil with a forked tail whisking Jesus around by magic or miracle. The Bible changed from being bad fiction, bad science, and bad history with nothing to teach me, to being a metaphorically meaningful text containing much wisdom and beauty. It has stories of people trying to live in covenant to a higher truth, like us; stories of human imperfection, like our own; basic stories of people struggling with the challenges of life, like us. A new revelation, wow! Or maybe more appropriately, Halleluiah!

Just when I’ve got the Bible figured out, along comes prayer to throw me off balance. They pray all the time—at the beginning of classes, at the end of classes, even before exams. Oh my gosh! Are they asking Jesus to give them an A on their test? Do they really think God has nothing better to do? Oh, it was easy for me to feel smug and superior.

But over time I started to really listen to their prayers. Yes, they wanted to do well on exams, but they really were praying to become better pastors and messengers of God’s holy word. Our holy words may be different, but I want to be a good student so I can be a better preacher and pastor, too. Their opening prayers were no different from our Chalice Lightings. They were taking a moment to note that the professors’ gifts, their wisdom, were sacred offerings. Their prayers for fellow students, the sick and oppressed, etc, were nothing more than expressions of joys and sorrows. They were praying their convictions; their beliefs. To that I say, “Amen!”

All is not happy magic mushrooms and games of croquet in Wesleyland. Not every professor jumps for joy over UU students in their classes. But most welcome us because we challenge their beliefs. We force the Methodists, the Baptists, the Episcopalians and other students to question their assumptions, just as they challenge ours. If we all believed identically, how would we grow? Respectful conflict encourages spiritual development. We either adapt or change after exposure to something new, or we confirm our current position, knowing our ideas have been tested. This is good for us at Wesley, and it’s good for us in UU congregations.

My comfort zone has been particularly challenged by the ‘G’ word. I’m a religious humanist and religious naturalist, so God-talk doesn’t come easily. But my time at Wesley has given me back this word, just as it has returned the Bible. I’ve developed an internal translator to cope with Christian textbooks and conversations with non-UU students. For example, ‘God’ quickly means divinity within, ultimate truth, or great mystery. ‘Christ’ simply means Jesus. ‘Sin’ (and we know a lot about this one, thanks to Rev. Michael and Rev. Mary’s series), sin means breaking promises and acting in self-interest. I make my religious terms mean what I want them to mean. Fundamentalist, evangelical Christians don’t own these words. Moderate Christians at Wesley use them in varied ways and we can, too.

Seminary isn’t only learning about scripture, religious language, and Christian-UU similarities. The hookah-smoking caterpillar asked Alice, “Who are you?” Alice admitted she didn’t rightly know, she had undergone so many changes since entering Wonderland. I feel a little like Alice, too.

My understanding of Christianity has become more complicated. That black and white, us and them world I saw at the beginning of my adventures has become much more gray and nuanced—more realistic and mature. In that sense, my medicine cured me of my prejudices, as I’d hoped.

I always knew social action was important to religious groups, but it wasn’t something I was passionate about. Wesley medicine changed me on this, too. Jesus went into the wilderness, perhaps his own Wonderland, to get away and reflect. Satan tempted him to stray from his convictions, but Jesus held fast. A metaphorical Satan tempts me, too. I’m tempted to look the other way at injustice. I’m tempted to ignore the interconnected web and consume, consume, consume. But I realize that if I truly believe our UU principles, I can’t succumb. Why should I receive blessings in life simply because my parents provided me with a safe home and an education, and my race gives me power and privilege in our society? Where’s the equality in that? How can I stand silent when others have nothing?  I can’t. My religious humanism and religious naturalism compel me to act with a passion I lacked before I went to seminary.

I’m also tempted to accept Christian clarity of belief—well, actually I’m just a little envious. But that envy encourages me to demand clarity from all of us. It’s not enough to reject certain beliefs; we must affirm our own beliefs and name the source of our strength so that we can better respond to injustice and better handle the suffering and loss that comes with being alive.

My seminary story doesn’t neatly conclude because it isn’t over. But this particular chapter in my adventures in Wesleyland end here. When my internship at Arlington is over this May, I’ll return to Wesley for one more year to take a few remaining classes. Next May I expect to graduate and hopefully be ready for ordination. Fortunately, my time with you hasn’t been quite as curious as at Wesley, though I’m learning new things from you, too. Be proud of your willingness to be a teaching congregation. I aim to be a good student. At least so far, no one has shouted, “Off with her head!”

© Alison Wilbur Eskildsen

Intern Minister, UU Church of Arlington, VA

January 6, 2008