In 1803, while he was serving as the third president of the United States, Thomas Jefferson penned a letter to his friend Joseph Priestly, a scientist and dissenting clergyman with Unitarian views. In the letter, he proposed the project of writing out his view of what he called "the Christian System," beginning with a review of the moral vision of the ancient philosophers, moving on to the ethics of Jews as described in the Torah and prophets, and concluding with the ethical principles taught by Jesus.
Explaining that he didn't have time to undertake this important work himself, he urged Priestley to take it on, asserting that Priestly was the person best equipped to accomplish the task. When Priestly was not able to oblige as quickly as Jefferson would have liked, Thomas Jefferson himself eventually took a pair of scissors to the Holy Scriptures of the Western World!
Focusing his determination (and irritation) on the New Testament gospels, he cut them up into pieces-snip, snip, snip-so that he could remove everything that he believed was superstitious, misconceived nonsense-in particular, all references to Jesus' divinity, the trinity, prophesy, angels, virgin birth, the resurrection, miracles, or any other supernatural elements. What remained when he was finished were the texts referring only to the human life of Jesus and the social code that he taught.
Jefferson took the verses he had extracted from the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and arranged them in chronological order, intermingling the various excerpts to create one single narrative. He named his little volume The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth. In a later letter to John Adams, he described his accomplishment:
We must reduce our volume to the simple evangelists, select even from them the very words only of Jesus, paring off the amphibologisms into which they have been led by forgetting often, or not understanding, what had fallen from him, by giving their own misconceptions as his dicta, and expressing unintelligibly for others what they had not understood themselves. There will be found remaining the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man. I have performed this operation for my own use, by cutting verse by verse out of the printed book, and arranging the [material] which is evidently his, and which is as easily distinguishable as diamonds in a dunghill. The result is an octavo of forty-six pages of pure and unsophisticated doctrines.
Jefferson demonstrated incredible self-confidence in this act, don't you think? Many would call it incredible hubris. Believing as he did in the individual's inalienable right of liberty, including religious liberty, believing in his own powers of reason, he expressed extraordinary confidence in his own capacity to discern between the core teachings of the scripture and the mythology that encased it.
But Jefferson wasn't acting only on his personal instinct. He was a true child of the Enlightenment. He was expressing what was then an emergent understanding of the scriptures, at least among intellectuals, growing out of the rationalism of the 17th and 18th centuries in Europe and America.
Scholars had begun to begin pull off the veil, the aura, of divine authorship from the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. They were asking new questions of the texts: who were the human persons who actually wrote down these passages? When, in real historical terms, were they written? What was the historical situation in which they were written? For what audience were they intended? What social purpose did this text serve?
Looking at the Bible critically and trying to understand its historical basis is now a fairly standard approach-except among literalists who continue to reject over 300 years of scholarship and archeological evidence, insisting that every word is divinely given and unerring. But in Jefferson's time, the idea of biblical criticism was still a fairly new, radical, and even scandalous notion. Once you began to question the validity of one passage over another, or you claim that certain ideas, key to Christian doctrine, were fictions put in Jesus mouth and never actually spoken by him, or point out that a particular sacred history is clearly disproved by the archeological record-well, then the whole structure of religious conviction is in danger of coming down like a house of cards.
But Jefferson did not want to bring it down entirely. He did not abandon, whole cloth, the fundamental religious classic of his culture, his people, his history and philosophy. He gleaned from it what he believed worthy of his reverence and commitment. He drew that closer to himself, making it his own. Indeed, we now refer to his little volume as "The Jefferson Bible."
We may take it for granted that we are allowed to discern, each for our self, what calls to our reverence and commitment within the Judeo-Christian tradition and scripture, and what does not. But Jefferson and his Bible are among those precedents in our religious history that first opened up that path of freedom for us. Because of them, we're encouraged to see the Bible in the way John Buehren's describes it: as human literature about the divine, not divine literature about humanity. And also, as a workbook; not an untouchable artifact, but a guide to be critically engaged for the sake of living.
Yet Jefferson, with his pair of scissors, also opened up a pitfall in all of this, one which still haunts us: the license to dismiss or discard whatever we find distasteful. When this is a casual attitude, it leads to the smorgasbord approach to religion, in which we just dibble-dabble in those ideas we find pleasing, and let ourselves off the hook on anything we feel an aversion to.
I do think that Jefferson and other forebears took the scriptures extremely seriously. They wouldn't swallow it whole, but brought a fierce discipline to their interactions with it. They had such respect for the spiritual and moral law contained within it to feel it merited that effort. You see neither an impulsive rejection of authority, nor a believe-whatever-you-want laissez-faire in their work. Their positions were painstakingly laid out and tested by friends and adversaries in rigorous theological debate. Collections of sermons from Universalist Hosea Ballou, from Unitarians Parker, Emerson, and Channing, and so many others, show that the bulk of their discourses were dedicated to the effort of sorting out essential truth from fiction in Bible and religion. They aimed to rescue core moral principle from dusty doctrines, and to reconsider what made for the meaningful living of religion in their time.
This sermon, today, is the second in six that I'll be sharing in an effort to convey the basic foundational sources of this Unitarian Universalist tradition. Most importantly, I hope to help us recognize and reclaim these various resources for ourselves. I hope that they may become available for our own living and give energy to our individual and collective faith.
The Judaic and Christian traditions are still very much with us and are a part of us. They can offer a treasure of moral and spiritual vision. At the same time, we have received these teachings through a liberal lineage of exploration that always allows us and encourages us to question, to sift and discriminate, and to use our powers of reason.
I thought a very straightforward way of seeing how these traditions remain with us would be to look at the elements of scripture that have found their way into our very own hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition. In a way, we have done what Jefferson did: take clippings from various Judaic and New Testament texts, and arrange them according to our own understanding.
Let's begin by recognizing that both the opening round we sang from the hymnal this morning, "Hineh Ma Tov," as well as our opening words, were both based on Psalm 133.
Psalm 133 praises the beauty to be found when people live together in peace and fellowship and unity. The psalm's original text describes this spirit of unity being like holy oil, like the spiced oil that was used to anoint and bless Aaron when he was initiated as the first priest of the Israelite people. In Judaic tradition, Aaron, Moses' older brother, is the ideal peacemaker, someone who builds concord between people and assists them in reconciling when there has been discord.
So, what does it do for us to join our own voices in singing a 3,000-year-old sacred poem in Hebrew, praising the spirit of peaceful human community? It connects us, not only to one another but to a deep, ancient past, and to countless generations of Jewish, Christian and now Unitarian Universalist communities who have sung and spoken this psalm together.
The next element in our order of service was the Chalice Lighting we said together, adapted from Marcia Falk's beautiful book, Blessings: New Jewish Prayers for Daily Life, the Sabbath, and the New Moon Festival:
Hear O People, the Holy abounds everywhere and dwells in everything! The many are One! Loving life and its mysterious source with all our heart and all our spirit and all our senses and strength, We take upon ourselves and into ourselves these promises: To care for the earth and those who live upon it; To pursue justice and peace; To love kindness and compassion. We will teach this to our children throughout the passage of the day As we dwell in our homes and go upon our journeys, From the time we rise until we fall asleep, And may our actions be faithful to our words, That our children's children may live to know: Truth and kindness have embraced; Peace and justice have kissed and are one.
But now turn to reading #467 in our hymnal, and you'll find an excerpt from the book of Deuteronomy, chapter 6:
Listen Israel, The Eternal, the Eternal alone, is our God. And you must love the Eternal your God with all your mind, and all your soul, and all your strength. These words you must learn by heart, you must impress them on your children. You must talk about them when you are sitting at home and when you are on the road, when you lie down and when you rise up.
Sound familiar? This exhortation, called the Shema Yisrael by Jews, is the foundational prayer of Judaism. It is an affirmation of the unity of the Divine (as opposed to the multiplicity of gods in pagan belief, and as opposed to Christian Trinitarianism). It's a prescription against idolatry-the worship of anything unworthy. It's an affirmation of religious identity and a mandate to pass on the holy teachings from generation to generation. It's a call to bring one's faith into all of one's living.
Some of us may also recognize a piece of this passage as being central to Jesus' teaching. The gospel of Mathew tells this story in chapter 22:34-40:
When the Pharisees heard that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered themselves together. One of them, who was an expert in the law, asked him a question to test him: "Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' The entire Law and all the demands of the Prophets are based on these two commandments."
So the greatest commandment is, again, from the Shema, Deuteronomy 6, while "Love your neighbor as yourself" actually comes from Leviticus, the third book of the Torah. If you turn to reading #641 in the hymnal, you'll find Leviticus 19, titled there "the Heart of the Torah."
It begins again with a warning against idolatry: "Heed not unreal gods." Then follows a set of commandments regarding what it means to be a decent, civil, compassionate society-in the terms of that time. To paraphrase:
Don't strip you fields and vineyards bare at harvest time, but leave a portion for the poor and the homeless to gather food. Don't steal from or cheat one another or withhold wages from the laborer. Don't make things difficult for people who are vulnerable because of disabilities but help them make their way safely through life. Dispense judgment in true fairness, without being partial either to the powerful or the poor. Don't speak ill of others, or practice revenge, or hold a grudge … but love your neighbor as yourself.
So, both Deuteronomy 6 and Leviticus 19 made it into our UU hymnal. Marcia Falk took the essence of the teachings and breathed a more universal spirit into the language.
I recognize that for some of us here, the traditional biblical language carries with it memories, perhaps very visceral memories that we don't necessarily want to recall. We may find ourselves closing down as we hear it. We may feel ourselves receding emotionally, because these texts remind us of unsafe places, or they remind us of a time when religion felt like a heavy yoke or a bludgeon or a judgment against our very being. We may feel that even though some group of editors saw fit to put passages from Deuteronomy and Leviticus into our hymnal, that does not place any obligation upon us here at Theodore Parker Church to turn to these texts as authoritative, and it certainly doesn't obligate any individual to embrace them or be moved by them.
I hope that we can approach this exploration gently, remembering that there is no intention here to thrust belief upon anyone.
Speaking personally-as one who was raised Christian, rejected the religion of my origins for many years, pursued a winding path of personal spiritual exploration and eventually found my way to seminary and to Unitarian Universalism-I have discovered that when I can recognize the origin, the genealogy, of something in our UU belief or practice, it gives it a deeper relief or clarity for me. It gives it a more layered multi-dimensionality.
To understand the sources of our ethical principles helps embed us in a rich, lasting tapestry of meaning, history, ancestry, and spirituality and moral conviction. It links us. It connects us to something larger and older than ourselves now.
Our faith, our tradition, our ethics, were not born yesterday, out of air, out of transient opinions, but have come down from one generation to the next, on and on through time, being renewed, reformed, reinterpreted, kept alive to give us roots and spiritual food for the challenges of today. Understanding the origins of our ethical system also gives us a basis for dialogue and a ground for moral argument with other religious communities.
So, let's look at a few more passages. Please turn to reading #571 in the hymnal, titled "Universal Ministry."
The spirit of God has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, to comfort all who mourn…
This selection, drawn from Isaiah 61, is an interesting one. It links a prophetic vision of compassion and liberation from the ancient Judaic scriptures to the ministry ascribed to Jesus, and to his self-understanding. In the gospel of Luke, chapter 4:16-21, this story appears about the formal beginning of Jesus' ministry, when he returns as an adult to the city of his childhood:
When [Jesus] came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."
So this passage is one that connects us through time-connects the ethic of healing and liberation from ancient Judaism, with the expression of that spirit in Jesus ministry, with the expression of that spirit in what we do today to relieve suffering and oppression.
If you look at the full passage in the hymnal, you'll see phrases that will be echoed in the hymn we'll sing at the end of the service: "give them garlands instead of ashes, oil of gladness instead of mourning…and they shall build up the ancient ruins, restore the devastations of many generations.…"
Reading #582, from the prophet Amos, is also important:
I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies! Even though you offer me your burnt offerings, I will not accept them; and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals, I will not look upon them. Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
This is a diatribe against a people who are putting enormous resources into self-satisfied displays of piety and worship, but have totally forgotten what they're actually supposed to be about as a people. They've forgotten that the truest expression of their faith would be righteousness-right relationship, and justice. You'll see these lines "let justice roll down like waters and peace like an ever-flowing steam" in our closing hymn as well.
So, there are several other passages like these in our canon readings-more from Isaiah, from Micah, and Hosea. There are passages of praise and wonder for the grandeur of nature from the book of Job. There are psalms expressing both despair and praise. There are passages from the more humanistic wisdom literature-such as the famous Ecclesiastes text, "To everything there is a season…"
Readings #638 and #639 are from the New Testament-from 1 Corinthians and 1 John, respectively. These teach the primacy of love, love as the essence of the Divine, love as the core of the Law, love as the most essential expression of those who wish to follow the example of Jesus. They exhort us to demonstrate love, and faith, through works of charity and generosity.
Reading #640, a composite from the gospels of Matthew and Luke, ends with the famous passage:
You are the light of the world! When a lamp is lit, it is not put under a bushel, but on a lampstand, where it gives light to everyone in the house!
I think in our ambivalence toward our Judaic and Christian roots, we have kept the great light that their teachings may offer under a bushel, obscuring it, pretending it is not there.
But it can give light! It reveals a treasure. Not every word, of course. Whole sections of scripture will seem bizarre at best and repugnant at worst, but so many other passages are full of spiritual and moral power and poetic beauty. These are the timeless human searchings for divine understanding, divine sight. They express the eternal effort of human beings to grapple with our sore failings and to turn, again and again, toward the source of life.
Reading #707 in our hymnal, from Deuteronomy 30, says:
I call heaven and earth to witness today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life, so that you and your descendants may live.
We are the receivers of a vast resource of ancient teachings. But we can still choose, embracing only that in them which gives us life.
May it be so.