Religious Ceremony 

A very small percentage of the Unitarian Universalists in North America were born Unitarian or Universalist or, after the merger in 1961, Unitarian Universalists. We are mostly self-chosen refugees from some other religious practice. Something in our birth religion turned us off and in many cases wounded us deeply. As a result we have a conflicted relationship to religious words, religious symbols and religious ceremony. 

Conflicted relationship to past experience is not unique to American UUs. It is deeply rooted in our psyche and the philosopher Hegel postulated that thinking goes through a three-step process: thesis, antithesis and synthesis. In terms of our struggle with religious ceremony the thesis is what we were taught in our given religion. For reasons that are unique to each of us, but collective in their rejection, we mostly chose to abandon our birth religion and all of its attendant nomenclature and ceremonies. This rejection of all things religious is the antithesis. 

Our challenge is to create the synthesis, to mold a higher conception that incorporates the best parts of our original religious experiences and the rejection of those experiences, ultimately transcending both. Making our task more interesting, we need to do this both individually and collectively. Given each of us is at a different stage on our journey, no wonder we have conflicted relationships with religious ceremony. 

Many of you have heard the story of the first flower communion, but many have not or have forgotten. The end of World War I brought many changes to the world, including the forced break-up of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, resulting in the creation of Czechoslovakia. In throwing off the Empire’s yoke with its state sponsored religion, Roman Catholicism, many turned to more liberal religious expression. Into this cauldron of renewed nationalism Norbert Capek( pronounced Chah’-peck), by then a Unitarian minister and his wife Maja returned to Prague from exile in the United States. Their mission was to help reestablish liberal religion in Czechoslovakia, what Norbert considered an extension of the “free Christianity” historically practiced before imposition of the state religion. 

In February 1922 the Capeks founded the Prague Congregation of Liberal Religious Fellowship. Originally, the service consisted entirely of lectures. In October Rev. Capek introduced singing hymns into the service. With only traditional hymns available, Capek wrote his own and, as evidenced by the opening hymn, he did a good job. The congregation continued to grow and mature and on June 24, 1923 the Capeks introduced the Flower Communion they had devised. The Prague Church grew to become the largest Unitarian congregation in the world. They must have been doing something right! 

Capek’s congregants had mostly grown up with Roman Catholic Eucharist (the thesis), although the congregation also included former Protestants and Jews. Rejecting all things from the Catholic ceremonies was part of the antithesis of the early Fellowship. The Capeks brought the best elements together in the synthesis of the Flower Communion. They discarded the religious symbols of the Eucharist: no more bread; no more wine; no more priest dispensing the communion. They reverted to the underlying need for communion: the act of sharing as a community those commonalities that brought them together. In purposefully using the word “communion” they staked a claim to the term, retaining its broader sense and not allowing the Christian community to restrict its definition to their celebration of the Eucharist. 

Reflecting our first principle, the inherent worth and dignity of every person, they devised a communion that was of the people and for the people, using as a symbol the flower. Each person would bring a flower with them and each take a flower away “just as it comes without making any distinction where it came from and whom it represents, to confess that we accept each other as brothers and sisters without regard to class, race, or other distinction, acknowledging everybody as our friend who is human and wants to be good.” The first flower communion was a success and was repeated annually. 

In 1940, Maja Capek introduced the Flower Communion to the United States, where it was widely adopted by the Unitarian congregations and often celebrated as the last service before summer “vacation.” As discussions for the merger of the Unitarian and Universalist associations were undertaken the sticky issue of celebrating Easter was addressed. At that time the Unitarian congregations were largely humanist, rejecting the Christian Easter story with its blood sacrifice to a deity to save humankind. Easter was a central celebration of faith for the Universalists. 

The merger almost died on this issue until someone suggested the compromise of celebrating the Flower Communion on Easter. After resolving this issue the UUA was formed, however, my experience is that traditional Unitarian congregations continue to celebrate Flower Communion in June and historical Universalist congregations celebrate it at Easter, while in true UU fashion some vacillate between the two. 

What can we learn from the experience of the birth of the Flower Communion and its continued practice 84 years later? We humans have a deep need for acts that draw us together in our humanity. This is the highest calling of religious ceremony. 

The Flower Communion utilizes the underlying aspects of communion: the bringing together of the community for sharing amongst itself. Yet it does it in such a way that honors other traditions without trying to copy them. It created something new that transcended the old, using a broader brush to paint the pallet, thereby including our Unitarian Universalist principles in it core. It involves everyone. We each bring a flower; we each take a flower away. It does not discriminate based on economic status, but allows us to choose what flower to share and where we get it from. Some like Sari with her wonderful flower garden have a difficult choice of which flower to bring. Others of us get to ramble in woods or field to find our offering. Others can find flowers on a nearby bush and some support the economy by purchasing one from a vendor. 

All flowers are brought together, are blessed in the presence of the other flowers and so consecrated, leave with one of our fellow celebrants to share their splendor, or smell, or simple lines, or their beauty in being plain. 

It does not matter if you found this congregation after prior experience as a Catholic, Protestant, Jew, Atheist, Buddhist, Pagan, Taoist or whatever. It doesn’t matter if you practice one of these faiths currently, the Flower Communion speaks to us all equally well and this is the power of universal religious ceremony. 

Have we UUs attained this same level of universality with any other religious ceremony? Probably not quite, but I have four candidates that might make the grade if we work at it. The first is the universal desire to have our children accepted by the community. To my mind the Child Dedication is also a communion. It encompasses the entire religious community; bringing it together; reminding it of its highest calling. The family asks that their child be accepted in the community. The community agrees to include the child and in doing so takes responsibility for the child. In many child dedication ceremonies the other children of the community are also given and accept a direct charge for the care of the newcomer. 

We have no prescribed order for a Child Dedication. We incorporate elements that are unique to each family and each child. Yet I think we would do well to have elements that are consistently incorporated into the ceremony. A combination of consistency and flexibility allows us to best reflect our liberal religion. 

I remember a newcomer remarked one Sunday that he liked it here because it seemed we had an “unorganized” religion. I’m not so sure we should aspire to be unorganized. I would rather we were well organized, but unfettered. When we do have chaos, it should be purposeful. 

The second candidate I propose as an important religious ceremony is acceptance into membership. Again there is a universal desire for the individual to have proof they are accepted by the whole and for the whole to recall and recommit to the mission of the congregation. At its best such ceremony leaves every participant renewed in faith, in commitment, in strength within our chosen community. After all, one key aspect of our liberal religious community is choice. We choose to join and we choose to stay engaged. As we welcome others to our community we should take the opportunity to renew ourselves as well. 

The third candidate is the commitment of (usually) two individuals for each other. Notice I did not say marriage. The status of marriage in most of the United States is limited to one male and one female. Consequently, many UU ministers, including the president of the UUA, Bill Sinkford and our former pastor, Kayle Rice, will not participate in the actual marriage, which under law is a secular process. They will participate in a commitment ceremony. I am of mixed mind here. Birth and death (the final candidate) are not optional events in our lives. Joining the community is optional, but we would not be a community if we did not have that joining. 

A commitment ceremony at its best can match the spiritual power of the other three, but in my experience it rarely does. In most commitment ceremonies there is much dialogue between the celebrants and little with the community. And so while I encourage those who want to share that commitment with the community at large, I see it as more of a private ceremony with religious overtones. 

The last candidate I propose is the celebration of a life no longer lived within the community. Religious communities owe it to their members to have ways to celebrate life and assist survivors through a grieving process of a loved one’s death. After death, observant Jews sit shiva for a week during which members of the religious community visit the first degree relatives (mother, father, children, siblings, and spouse) at their home. Silence ensues until broken by the mourners and only then may the visitors speak. They talk about the deceased, sharing stories of the person’s life. As the week deepens, the family’s grief starts to transform into a recollection of the joy of a life lived. 

So too in a traditional New Orleans Jazz funeral. There is a somber journey to the graveyard, winding through the neighborhood, past a house draped in black. The band plays traditional Christian hymns at a dirge tempo. And after the burial, after the procession has moved a respectful distance from the grave the band leader plays a two note preparatory riff to alert the musicians. Drummers start the second line beat and out come the umbrellas, often colorfully decorated. Those willing and able fall behind, position themselves next to or intermingle with the musicians and dance, strut and “booty bounce” to the second line beat and the improv of the music – often still traditional hymns, but played with joyous intent. 

While our UU tradition draws from many sources, we often fall flat when we try to take another culture’s traditions and incorporate them as our own. Few UUs would have the patience required for sitting shiva for it to work for the family and the community. We don’t know how and at best we would provide only a shadow effect, not the real deal. So too, we are probably unable to spin on a dime from sorrow to joy as the New Orleans musicians can. We don’t have the belief system and tradition to back it up. 

That doesn’t mean we can’t learn from incorporating elements of others practices into our services. I have a fond memory of singing “Amens” after the benediction and would be moved if we incorporated that into some of our services. It might leave others at best puzzled if they didn’t understand its background. 

Similar discontinuity occurs when we incorporate practices from other religions into our own. Celebrating a Passover Seder is not the same thing for the non Jews among us; nor is sharing the Pagan celebrations for solstices. Like the Flower Communion we need to develop practices that transcend our sources and become universally meaningful. 

I have participated in a number of UU memorial services that have met this test. They have been religious ceremony celebrating the life of a deceased member.  Our chosen symbols are included: lighting and extinguishing the chalice. Words from our various traditions are shared. Then, echoing sitting shiva, first family and then friends share stories. Funny stories, sad stories, moving stories -- stories that illuminate the meaning of the deceased’s life, their impact on the community. 

In such services I have always learned something about the person I never knew and would never have guessed. And I learned more of the community to which I belong. And I learned more of myself. Is that not what a religious ceremony is all about? And yet I wonder sometimes why we only utilize this particular ceremony after the individual has died. Would we not gain equal value if we were to hold such a service when very long time members move away? 

So today we have our opportunity to celebrate our status as unique individuals and as sharing participants in this community. Because we have an annual meeting after the service and cut flowers like to keep their feet wet, we ask that you take your flower as you are leaving the building. And as you select your flower, I suggest you take a moment and consider the bounty of the community that has brought you and your flower together and smile at your good fortune of having found this congregation.

James Montgomery Jackson
June 3, 2007