Theology
"I am struck by how deeply thoughtful Allison has been in the time I have known her in her writing and speaking about the Unitarian Universalist tradition and her own theology. She knows how easily theological language can be idolatrous. She shows real sensitivity to how the word God itself may be used in so many different ways that it is critical to pay attention to the particular meaning it may have for each person. Her theology is well thought out, coherent, inviting and comes from a deep place of personal experience and conviction that has been tested in the context of community and worship." -The Rev. Dr. Brita Gill-Austern, Austin Philip Guiles Professor of Psychology and Pastoral Theology at Andover Newton Theological School
My theology is thoroughly Unitarian Universalist. By this I mean that I believe in a love that is bigger than us and holds us all. I believe that that which is sacred or holy is beyond our understanding, but is something we experience in this world.
I believe that wisdom comes from many sources, including texts that others name as sacred and those that are considered secular, texts written centuries ago and those written yesterday, and the text of our own lives that is being written and rewritten every day.
I believe that what we do in this world matters much more than what we believe about God or the afterlife. I believe that we are all connected in ways both within and beyond our understanding and that what effects one of us effects us all. I believe that the work of salvation is the work of building the beloved community here on earth, and that none of us can be saved until all are saved. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., “I can never be what I ought to be, until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”
I believe that every person carries in them a spark of the divine and our work in this world is to nurture those sparks both in ourselves and in others. I believe that we each have within us the capacity for both good and evil, and it is up to us to choose love.
I believe that the saving message of Unitarian Universalism is that you are not alone. Whether you believe that this means that God is holding you in love or that you are held in love by your community matters much less than the surety that something or someone is there to catch you when you stumble.
I am comfortable using the language of faith, but tend to talk about love much more in my sermons that I talk about God. I believe that we as Unitarian Universalist have a lot of theological common ground, even if none of it has to do with our beliefs about God. I also know that one of the most important things about ministry a diverse tradition such as ours is creating safe spaces in which we can share about our theologies. One of the gifts I bring to this work is an openness and curiosity when it comes to what others believe. I approach any conversation about theology not with a hope to convince anyone of my particular view, but rather with desire to listen and share. This is the attitude I would bring to any conversation about theology and the type of atmosphere I would hope to foster in any congregation I serve.
A few key theological concepts:
God
Rebecca Parker says that the question of whether or not God exists is not an intellectual exercise but rather an existential question: “is there reason to trust that there is any help available?” While I might say at times that I do not believe that God exists, I do believe deeply that there is reason to trust that help is available, and at times I call that help “God.”
When I use the word God, I do not use to speak of a divine being that is somewhere beyond this world, but rather a divinity or sacredness that is in and among us. I do not believe in the transcendent God. I believe in the immanent God. That sacredness is something I have come to know through experience, not through doctrine or reasoning. I believe that we can never fully comprehend God, and that part of what makes something sacred is that we can’t explain it. I often use the term mystery when I talk about God or the sacred, to emphasize the fact that I do not know quite what it is. Though I do not think we can explain the sacred, I do think that we can know it through our experiences if it. As Parker says, “at the heart of liberal theology is a mysterious glimpse, a transforming struggle, with the oblique presence of God…but the moment human beings think they know who God is and carve their conclusions in stone, images of God can become dangerous idols."
When I think of God, I think of the divine spark that dwells in each of us. I also consider these divine sparks something that connects us all, as it is something that we all have within us. My deepest experiences of the sacred have been when my divine spark has reached out to touch the divine spark of another or of many others, or when the divine spark in others has reached out to the divinity in me. These are not experiences I can fully explain, but they are assurances that “help is there,” not in the form of a divine other, but in the form of sacred community and inner holiness. Sometimes these experiences are so strong that I can think of no other word for what I feel than God.
I resonate with the process theologians' idea of God as the one who calls us forward, as a persuasive, luring power. I like to think that God is that within us that seeks to lure us into right relationship with one another; God is the power within and among us that seeks to persuade us to make choices that might create a more just and peaceful world. In simple terms, I might say that God is that power that seeks to turn us toward love and away from hatred.
In speaking of God, I often say that God is love, and love is God. By this I mean that I find God, I experience the sacred, most strongly in love. I believe that the compassion and love that come out of suffering are where we find God in the midst of pain. The universe is often chaotic, and God is the love that shines through that chaos.
All quotes from Rebecca Parker, “The Rocks Will Cry Out,” in A House For Hope, (Boston: Beacon Press, 2011).
Humanity
My understanding of human nature is deeply informed by liberal religion's belief in the inherent divinity of each and every person. I reject the Calvinist idea of human depravity, believing not only are we all of divine origin, but, as Rebecca Parker writes, that our inner divinity is also “never fully defaced or erased by human folly and sin.” I believe deeply in the divine spark that dwells within each of us, and that this is something we will always have, even if our actions do not always line up with that inner divinity. William Ellery Channing called this inner divinity “the powers of the soul,” and believed that these powers must be nurtured in order to flourish and grow. He believed that without regular exercise, the powers of the soul would lose strength, and that the powers could also be suppressed by social systems that do not recognize the inner divinity of all. I appreciate these sentiments, and agree that it is often our education, upbringing, or social conditioning that prevents us from realizing the potential of our inherent divinity.
While I appreciate the emphasis that liberal theology puts on the divine nature of humanity, I also appreciate the more traditional Christian notion that we are all sinners. When I use the word sin, I mean anything that takes us out of right relationship with others or with our earth. I think that sometimes, liberal theology paints too noble a picture of humanity, leaving no room to acknowledge our fallibility. My view of humanity is well illustrated by the story of the old Rabbi who tells his young student that the key to success is to keep your hands in both pockets. When the student presses him as to what he means by this, the rabbi tells him that in one pocket he will find a crown because he is a child of God, and in the other pocket, he will find dust because from dust he came and to dust he shall return. I do not take this story in any sort of dualistic way, equating dust to flesh and the crown to the soul. Instead, I believe that when we humans are at our best is when we embody a balance of the dust and the crown—when we remember both that we have a divine spark within us, and that we are fallible beings.
In this way, I agree with Reinhold Niebuhr, and with UU theologian, Sharon Welch, that all human institutions, no matter how good our intentions, have the potential to fall into sin, to take us out of right relationship with our fellow humans. I appreciate Niebuhr’s nod to pride as the greatest sin—that when we believe ourselves to be fully divine, or to have a divine mandate, we have the greatest potential for hurting others. At the same time, I agree with the feminist voices that reject the idea of pride as the greatest sin, and argue that self-abnegation ought to be considered a sin on an equal level with pride. When we think too little of ourselves, when we forget our crown, we also fall out of right relationship.
I also believe deeply in our interconnectedness and in the power and importance of community in the lives of humans. I believe that we are drawn into relationship because we share in the struggle to find balance between the dust and the crown. We find that balance best in a community of mutual love and support. As we realize that we are all engaged in the same joys and the same struggles, we realize also our obligation to love and care for one another through those struggles. We are all in it together. What is radical about this idea of humanity is that it puts everyone on the same plane, engaged in a love that “disrupts established social norms regarding who is welcome at the table of human fellowship." Parker emphasizes that love is horizontal, not vertical. The spirit of love that dwells among us is what connects us all.
Parker says that human beings are “generous, capable, and connected with one another and the earth.” I agree, and I believe that we must keep our fallibility in mind as well, remembering that no matter how generous our intentions our actions always have the potential to harm or hurt. Though we each possess a divine spark, we are not perfect beings. We do fail in our efforts at right relationship, no matter how well intentioned those efforts might be. I find hope in humanity through the love and connection that exists despite our fallibility, and that emerges at times when we might least expect it. In seeking the balance between dust and crown, we are drawn together, and reminded that we are all engaged in the same challenge of being human.
All quotes from Rebecca Parker, “A Home for Love,” in A House For Hope, (Boston: Beacon Press, 2011).
Salvation
My view of salvation is based in a decidedly Unitarian Universalist framework. To begin with, I do not believe in any sort of afterlife, which takes salvation out of the realm of the beyond and into the realm of the here and now. I believe we are working to create the Kingdom of God here on earth, and that we will achieve that Kingdom of God only if all are in right relationship with one another. I also believe in the universal nature of salvation, in that the Kingdom of God will include all—that all people have inherent worth and dignity, and thus the work of salvation must be about building salvation for all.
My theology of salvation has much in common with Liberation Theology. I too believe in a social understanding of salvation. Like some Liberation Theologians, I believe in working to create the Kingdom of Heaven here on earth. I differ in my view of God’s role in all of this, however. My idea of salvation does not necessarily include a God. Indeed, rather than believing that the social problems of this world are caused by people being disconnected from God, I believe that they come from people being disconnected from each other, and from themselves. The late Rev. Forrest Church describes salvation this way: “the goal is to move from division to wholeness. When you’re divided against yourself, estranged from your neighbor, or alienated from God, you live in a state of sin. Salvation comes in the eternal now, when you’re at peace with yourself, can embrace your neighbor, and say yes to God.”
In this way, I see salvation as a profoundly communal endeavor. I believe that we are truly all in this together. My salvation is tied up with your salvation, and indeed, neither of us will truly find salvation until the other finds it as well. As Church writes in The Cathedral of the World, “we are bound in the shared recognition that when one person suffers, all suffer; when we violate one life, all lives are violated.” The interdependent web of existence necessitates that we recognize our dependence on each other in the work of salvation.
Given this communal and universal nature of salvation, it is hard to see us reaching this point anytime soon. The Kingdom of God is being built here on earth, but we are nowhere near to completing it, and may never be. This does not mean, however, that we cannot experience glimpses of salvation in our lives. This is what I would call grace: moments of salvation, harbingers of the Kingdom we are seeking to build. Grace comes from that which is sacred, that which is in us, among us and beyond us. Grace comes from the divine light within each of us, and from the sacred bonds which unite us. I would say that we experience grace each time we feel connected to our deepest selves, each time we feel profoundly connected to others, and each time we feel a communion with the sacred. Grace is a taste of salvation, and is what gives us the strength, hope and courage to continue the difficult work of salvation for all.
Indeed, believing in a universal notion of salvation does not take any burden off of us as individuals. Church points out that “universalism is an exacting gospel. Taken seriously, no theology is more challenging—morally spiritually, or intellectually.” I believe he is absolutely right in this. Salvation would be much easier to achieve if we only had to get it for a limited number of people. Believing in universal salvation also means believing in both our common humanity and our common destiny in a profound way. My salvation is bound up not only with my friends and family, my fellow Unitarian Universalists and other liberal people of faith. It is also bound up with those who are intolerant of my faith, those who seek to save me, those who commit atrocities in the name of religion and those who wish to wipe religion from this planet. My salvation is all bound up with those who have hurt me, those who I struggle to forgive, and those who struggle to forgive me. Universal salvation is no easy doctrine. It calls us not only to love our enemies, but also to actively work for their salvation.
The work of salvation is not easy, and indeed, salvation may actually be just an ideal to work towards and not something we can rationally believe will happen in our lifetimes. Yet, I believe we are all called to the work of salvation. We are called by our understanding of our common humanity and our common destiny. We are called by our desire to live in right relationship with ourselves, with others, and with the sacred. And, most of all, we are called by our experiences of grace—experiences of profound connection, wholeness and love, glimpses of the Kingdom of God we are working so hard to build, glimpses of the world the way it ought to be, glimpses of salvation.
All quotes from Forrest Church, The Cathedral of the World.
I believe that wisdom comes from many sources, including texts that others name as sacred and those that are considered secular, texts written centuries ago and those written yesterday, and the text of our own lives that is being written and rewritten every day.
I believe that what we do in this world matters much more than what we believe about God or the afterlife. I believe that we are all connected in ways both within and beyond our understanding and that what effects one of us effects us all. I believe that the work of salvation is the work of building the beloved community here on earth, and that none of us can be saved until all are saved. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., “I can never be what I ought to be, until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”
I believe that every person carries in them a spark of the divine and our work in this world is to nurture those sparks both in ourselves and in others. I believe that we each have within us the capacity for both good and evil, and it is up to us to choose love.
I believe that the saving message of Unitarian Universalism is that you are not alone. Whether you believe that this means that God is holding you in love or that you are held in love by your community matters much less than the surety that something or someone is there to catch you when you stumble.
I am comfortable using the language of faith, but tend to talk about love much more in my sermons that I talk about God. I believe that we as Unitarian Universalist have a lot of theological common ground, even if none of it has to do with our beliefs about God. I also know that one of the most important things about ministry a diverse tradition such as ours is creating safe spaces in which we can share about our theologies. One of the gifts I bring to this work is an openness and curiosity when it comes to what others believe. I approach any conversation about theology not with a hope to convince anyone of my particular view, but rather with desire to listen and share. This is the attitude I would bring to any conversation about theology and the type of atmosphere I would hope to foster in any congregation I serve.
A few key theological concepts:
God
Rebecca Parker says that the question of whether or not God exists is not an intellectual exercise but rather an existential question: “is there reason to trust that there is any help available?” While I might say at times that I do not believe that God exists, I do believe deeply that there is reason to trust that help is available, and at times I call that help “God.”
When I use the word God, I do not use to speak of a divine being that is somewhere beyond this world, but rather a divinity or sacredness that is in and among us. I do not believe in the transcendent God. I believe in the immanent God. That sacredness is something I have come to know through experience, not through doctrine or reasoning. I believe that we can never fully comprehend God, and that part of what makes something sacred is that we can’t explain it. I often use the term mystery when I talk about God or the sacred, to emphasize the fact that I do not know quite what it is. Though I do not think we can explain the sacred, I do think that we can know it through our experiences if it. As Parker says, “at the heart of liberal theology is a mysterious glimpse, a transforming struggle, with the oblique presence of God…but the moment human beings think they know who God is and carve their conclusions in stone, images of God can become dangerous idols."
When I think of God, I think of the divine spark that dwells in each of us. I also consider these divine sparks something that connects us all, as it is something that we all have within us. My deepest experiences of the sacred have been when my divine spark has reached out to touch the divine spark of another or of many others, or when the divine spark in others has reached out to the divinity in me. These are not experiences I can fully explain, but they are assurances that “help is there,” not in the form of a divine other, but in the form of sacred community and inner holiness. Sometimes these experiences are so strong that I can think of no other word for what I feel than God.
I resonate with the process theologians' idea of God as the one who calls us forward, as a persuasive, luring power. I like to think that God is that within us that seeks to lure us into right relationship with one another; God is the power within and among us that seeks to persuade us to make choices that might create a more just and peaceful world. In simple terms, I might say that God is that power that seeks to turn us toward love and away from hatred.
In speaking of God, I often say that God is love, and love is God. By this I mean that I find God, I experience the sacred, most strongly in love. I believe that the compassion and love that come out of suffering are where we find God in the midst of pain. The universe is often chaotic, and God is the love that shines through that chaos.
All quotes from Rebecca Parker, “The Rocks Will Cry Out,” in A House For Hope, (Boston: Beacon Press, 2011).
Humanity
My understanding of human nature is deeply informed by liberal religion's belief in the inherent divinity of each and every person. I reject the Calvinist idea of human depravity, believing not only are we all of divine origin, but, as Rebecca Parker writes, that our inner divinity is also “never fully defaced or erased by human folly and sin.” I believe deeply in the divine spark that dwells within each of us, and that this is something we will always have, even if our actions do not always line up with that inner divinity. William Ellery Channing called this inner divinity “the powers of the soul,” and believed that these powers must be nurtured in order to flourish and grow. He believed that without regular exercise, the powers of the soul would lose strength, and that the powers could also be suppressed by social systems that do not recognize the inner divinity of all. I appreciate these sentiments, and agree that it is often our education, upbringing, or social conditioning that prevents us from realizing the potential of our inherent divinity.
While I appreciate the emphasis that liberal theology puts on the divine nature of humanity, I also appreciate the more traditional Christian notion that we are all sinners. When I use the word sin, I mean anything that takes us out of right relationship with others or with our earth. I think that sometimes, liberal theology paints too noble a picture of humanity, leaving no room to acknowledge our fallibility. My view of humanity is well illustrated by the story of the old Rabbi who tells his young student that the key to success is to keep your hands in both pockets. When the student presses him as to what he means by this, the rabbi tells him that in one pocket he will find a crown because he is a child of God, and in the other pocket, he will find dust because from dust he came and to dust he shall return. I do not take this story in any sort of dualistic way, equating dust to flesh and the crown to the soul. Instead, I believe that when we humans are at our best is when we embody a balance of the dust and the crown—when we remember both that we have a divine spark within us, and that we are fallible beings.
In this way, I agree with Reinhold Niebuhr, and with UU theologian, Sharon Welch, that all human institutions, no matter how good our intentions, have the potential to fall into sin, to take us out of right relationship with our fellow humans. I appreciate Niebuhr’s nod to pride as the greatest sin—that when we believe ourselves to be fully divine, or to have a divine mandate, we have the greatest potential for hurting others. At the same time, I agree with the feminist voices that reject the idea of pride as the greatest sin, and argue that self-abnegation ought to be considered a sin on an equal level with pride. When we think too little of ourselves, when we forget our crown, we also fall out of right relationship.
I also believe deeply in our interconnectedness and in the power and importance of community in the lives of humans. I believe that we are drawn into relationship because we share in the struggle to find balance between the dust and the crown. We find that balance best in a community of mutual love and support. As we realize that we are all engaged in the same joys and the same struggles, we realize also our obligation to love and care for one another through those struggles. We are all in it together. What is radical about this idea of humanity is that it puts everyone on the same plane, engaged in a love that “disrupts established social norms regarding who is welcome at the table of human fellowship." Parker emphasizes that love is horizontal, not vertical. The spirit of love that dwells among us is what connects us all.
Parker says that human beings are “generous, capable, and connected with one another and the earth.” I agree, and I believe that we must keep our fallibility in mind as well, remembering that no matter how generous our intentions our actions always have the potential to harm or hurt. Though we each possess a divine spark, we are not perfect beings. We do fail in our efforts at right relationship, no matter how well intentioned those efforts might be. I find hope in humanity through the love and connection that exists despite our fallibility, and that emerges at times when we might least expect it. In seeking the balance between dust and crown, we are drawn together, and reminded that we are all engaged in the same challenge of being human.
All quotes from Rebecca Parker, “A Home for Love,” in A House For Hope, (Boston: Beacon Press, 2011).
Salvation
My view of salvation is based in a decidedly Unitarian Universalist framework. To begin with, I do not believe in any sort of afterlife, which takes salvation out of the realm of the beyond and into the realm of the here and now. I believe we are working to create the Kingdom of God here on earth, and that we will achieve that Kingdom of God only if all are in right relationship with one another. I also believe in the universal nature of salvation, in that the Kingdom of God will include all—that all people have inherent worth and dignity, and thus the work of salvation must be about building salvation for all.
My theology of salvation has much in common with Liberation Theology. I too believe in a social understanding of salvation. Like some Liberation Theologians, I believe in working to create the Kingdom of Heaven here on earth. I differ in my view of God’s role in all of this, however. My idea of salvation does not necessarily include a God. Indeed, rather than believing that the social problems of this world are caused by people being disconnected from God, I believe that they come from people being disconnected from each other, and from themselves. The late Rev. Forrest Church describes salvation this way: “the goal is to move from division to wholeness. When you’re divided against yourself, estranged from your neighbor, or alienated from God, you live in a state of sin. Salvation comes in the eternal now, when you’re at peace with yourself, can embrace your neighbor, and say yes to God.”
In this way, I see salvation as a profoundly communal endeavor. I believe that we are truly all in this together. My salvation is tied up with your salvation, and indeed, neither of us will truly find salvation until the other finds it as well. As Church writes in The Cathedral of the World, “we are bound in the shared recognition that when one person suffers, all suffer; when we violate one life, all lives are violated.” The interdependent web of existence necessitates that we recognize our dependence on each other in the work of salvation.
Given this communal and universal nature of salvation, it is hard to see us reaching this point anytime soon. The Kingdom of God is being built here on earth, but we are nowhere near to completing it, and may never be. This does not mean, however, that we cannot experience glimpses of salvation in our lives. This is what I would call grace: moments of salvation, harbingers of the Kingdom we are seeking to build. Grace comes from that which is sacred, that which is in us, among us and beyond us. Grace comes from the divine light within each of us, and from the sacred bonds which unite us. I would say that we experience grace each time we feel connected to our deepest selves, each time we feel profoundly connected to others, and each time we feel a communion with the sacred. Grace is a taste of salvation, and is what gives us the strength, hope and courage to continue the difficult work of salvation for all.
Indeed, believing in a universal notion of salvation does not take any burden off of us as individuals. Church points out that “universalism is an exacting gospel. Taken seriously, no theology is more challenging—morally spiritually, or intellectually.” I believe he is absolutely right in this. Salvation would be much easier to achieve if we only had to get it for a limited number of people. Believing in universal salvation also means believing in both our common humanity and our common destiny in a profound way. My salvation is bound up not only with my friends and family, my fellow Unitarian Universalists and other liberal people of faith. It is also bound up with those who are intolerant of my faith, those who seek to save me, those who commit atrocities in the name of religion and those who wish to wipe religion from this planet. My salvation is all bound up with those who have hurt me, those who I struggle to forgive, and those who struggle to forgive me. Universal salvation is no easy doctrine. It calls us not only to love our enemies, but also to actively work for their salvation.
The work of salvation is not easy, and indeed, salvation may actually be just an ideal to work towards and not something we can rationally believe will happen in our lifetimes. Yet, I believe we are all called to the work of salvation. We are called by our understanding of our common humanity and our common destiny. We are called by our desire to live in right relationship with ourselves, with others, and with the sacred. And, most of all, we are called by our experiences of grace—experiences of profound connection, wholeness and love, glimpses of the Kingdom of God we are working so hard to build, glimpses of the world the way it ought to be, glimpses of salvation.
All quotes from Forrest Church, The Cathedral of the World.