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edenfallingA week or so ago, my DRE sent out an email asking for lifelong UUs who'd be willing to talk to the middle school class about our religious experiences. I forget whether the middle schoolers are doing Neighboring Faiths this year (and are currently dealing with their own religion before returning to others), or are doing an actual whole year studying UUism. In any case, Jennifer thought it would be good for them to hear from people who were born-and-raised UU (or Unitarian or Universalist, for those born before the merger), because UUism is a demographically weird religion, in that a majority of our adult members came to the religion from elsewhere.
UUism, in other words, has a strong tendency to be a refuge faith for people fleeing their childhood religions, while also being a faith that is sadly all-too-easy for its own children to just drift away from.
I am, therefore, something of a statistical anomaly. :-( And there are reasons for that -- both the drift and my conscious choice not to drift. The thing is, because so many UUs are fleeing what they see as straightjacket beliefs and practices, they are twitchy in the extreme about imposing anything even vaguely reminiscent of ritual and faith on their children, with the end result that it is all too easy for those children to grow up without understanding why anyone would want to belong to an organized religion at all -- the community aspect flies right over their heads in all the talk of finding one's own individual truth.
My parents, however, made a big point of church-as-community all through my childhood. They both talked explicitly about that and modeled highly participatory behavior -- they taught RE, they joined committees, they were on the Board of Trustees, they made and paid large pledges, they ushered and cleaned up after coffee hour, they volunteered for projects, and so on and so forth. Which meant that, when I was having a slow-motion spiritual crisis in high school, my reaction was that even if I couldn't figure out what I believed, I could at the very least do something that would make me feel more connected, on the theory that connection was valuable in and of itself, and would probably make me feel better too.
Which is how I ended up teaching Sunday school the first time, and was rather flabbergasted to discover that I loved it... but the epic saga of my relationship with teaching is another story for another time. *grin*
Anyway, I was very lucky that when I came to Ithaca, not only was there a UU church in town (which is never a guarantee -- we are a small denomination), but that church was also having a brief spasm of interest in outreach to college students and young adults, prompted mostly by the then-minister, Rev. Sears, and a couple girls at Cornell who were doing their damndest to create a self-sustaining college UU worship group. They found me.
That is so unusual for UUs that it bears repeating. They found me.
I would most likely have gotten around to attending church on occasion anyway, and I am sure that when I decided to stay in Ithaca, I would have looked into the RE program -- as I in fact did -- but that student group was a significant part of my support system from 2000 to 2004, and I am quite sure my depression would have been worse without the weekly meetings. So I am very, very grateful for that. (And yes, I gave back a little. I was the recording secretary; I wrote up our minutes and sent out weekly emails so people who skipped a week didn't feel like they were out of touch, and so we had a clear record of our plans and who was responsible for what.)
Anyway, I resolved my spiritual crisis somewhere around, oh, 2003-ish -- and I came out of it more convinced than ever that community was the heart and soul of organized religion. Anyone can be spiritual alone, but to be spiritual in community -- to support others and be supported in return -- to give and receive as part of a living fellowship -- that, to me, is so, so important. That is why, lazy and introverted and antisocial though I am, I will never let myself just drift away.
I count myself ridiculously lucky that I was raised in a religious tradition that not only lets me do all the soul-seeking I want to, but in fact actively encourages me to do so -- and whatever answers or questions I come to, I can find them within the structure of my church community. I don't have to leave to find myself. I can change and change and change, or stand fast like a rock for ever, and whatever I try, whatever I choose, I am always already home.
And I am never alone.
That is what Unitarian Universalism is to me.
UUism, in other words, has a strong tendency to be a refuge faith for people fleeing their childhood religions, while also being a faith that is sadly all-too-easy for its own children to just drift away from.
I am, therefore, something of a statistical anomaly. :-( And there are reasons for that -- both the drift and my conscious choice not to drift. The thing is, because so many UUs are fleeing what they see as straightjacket beliefs and practices, they are twitchy in the extreme about imposing anything even vaguely reminiscent of ritual and faith on their children, with the end result that it is all too easy for those children to grow up without understanding why anyone would want to belong to an organized religion at all -- the community aspect flies right over their heads in all the talk of finding one's own individual truth.
My parents, however, made a big point of church-as-community all through my childhood. They both talked explicitly about that and modeled highly participatory behavior -- they taught RE, they joined committees, they were on the Board of Trustees, they made and paid large pledges, they ushered and cleaned up after coffee hour, they volunteered for projects, and so on and so forth. Which meant that, when I was having a slow-motion spiritual crisis in high school, my reaction was that even if I couldn't figure out what I believed, I could at the very least do something that would make me feel more connected, on the theory that connection was valuable in and of itself, and would probably make me feel better too.
Which is how I ended up teaching Sunday school the first time, and was rather flabbergasted to discover that I loved it... but the epic saga of my relationship with teaching is another story for another time. *grin*
Anyway, I was very lucky that when I came to Ithaca, not only was there a UU church in town (which is never a guarantee -- we are a small denomination), but that church was also having a brief spasm of interest in outreach to college students and young adults, prompted mostly by the then-minister, Rev. Sears, and a couple girls at Cornell who were doing their damndest to create a self-sustaining college UU worship group. They found me.
That is so unusual for UUs that it bears repeating. They found me.
I would most likely have gotten around to attending church on occasion anyway, and I am sure that when I decided to stay in Ithaca, I would have looked into the RE program -- as I in fact did -- but that student group was a significant part of my support system from 2000 to 2004, and I am quite sure my depression would have been worse without the weekly meetings. So I am very, very grateful for that. (And yes, I gave back a little. I was the recording secretary; I wrote up our minutes and sent out weekly emails so people who skipped a week didn't feel like they were out of touch, and so we had a clear record of our plans and who was responsible for what.)
Anyway, I resolved my spiritual crisis somewhere around, oh, 2003-ish -- and I came out of it more convinced than ever that community was the heart and soul of organized religion. Anyone can be spiritual alone, but to be spiritual in community -- to support others and be supported in return -- to give and receive as part of a living fellowship -- that, to me, is so, so important. That is why, lazy and introverted and antisocial though I am, I will never let myself just drift away.
I count myself ridiculously lucky that I was raised in a religious tradition that not only lets me do all the soul-seeking I want to, but in fact actively encourages me to do so -- and whatever answers or questions I come to, I can find them within the structure of my church community. I don't have to leave to find myself. I can change and change and change, or stand fast like a rock for ever, and whatever I try, whatever I choose, I am always already home.
And I am never alone.
That is what Unitarian Universalism is to me.
Re: Thank you.
Date: 2010-11-16 05:32 am (UTC)