There is an old joke in Unitarian Universalism, playing on the idea that it’s important to UUs to question received teachings. It goes: why do UUs struggle with singing hymns? Because they’re always reading ahead to see if they agree with the words! And that element of questioning definitely rings true for me.
At my internship congregation in Carlisle, Massachusetts, we lit our chalice each week with the words:
“May the light of this flame illuminate lives and strivings of the spirit;
May it heal misunderstandings and strengthen love.”
I loved and affirmed these words, but I was never 100% comfortable with strivings of the spirit. I questioned these words, and it helped me to clarify that I care to affirm only some strivings. I am not interested in strivings that advance the egoistic hopes of the striver. I do not affirm strivings that impose any one person’s unexamined view of the world on that world. I picture the strivings that open one’s heart up to the broader realities of the world. We can never know the world in its entirety; but by dedicating ourselves each week to striving for greater spiritual openness, we can find greater harmony with the divine.
In Daoist tradition, there is a story from the Zhuangzi that describes the persistent opening of one’s heart to the broader realities of the universe. The story is about a butcher named Ting, who was called to the court of Lord Wen Hui. Butcher Ting, it turns out, had a knife that appeared to be fresh from the grindstone, yet that he claimed not to have sharpened in 19 years. When asked how this could be so, Butcher Ting described how when he carved an ox, he was so in tune with the Way, that he could insert the immaterially thin blade of his knife at intervals of the ox’s anatomy. By putting something that had no thickness in places where there was no substance, he carved without ever needing to sharpen his blade. Butcher Ting became so in tune with the universe that he could respond to the ox’s anatomy by instinct and intuition. He was in touch with the Dao, the way of being that harmoniously balances yin and yang, the principles of darkness and light. In my language, he was greatly in harmony with the divine. In the Daoist tradition, this is called wu wei, usually translated as “non-action.”
Now, before I go on, I would like clarify what I mean by “non-action,” and particularly what it means to be a minister who practices non-action. Although translated as “non-action,” wu wei in fact negates only a certain kind of action, a kind which is undesirable in Daoist thought. The characters wu and wei that compose this concept in Chinese do indicate a lack of action. But wei, in Chinese, means a kind of action which deems. There is another type of action, yin, which does not deem, but goes by circumstance. As you may have guessed, Daoist philosophy generally favors action which goes with the circumstance over action which attempts to impose one’s own deeming of a situation. That is, wei is a less desirable form of action. Wu wei, the act of not imposing one’s own deeming on a situation, is thus favorable. So, when I speak about “non-action,” I do not mean literally sitting on my hands while all hell breaks loose outside the minister’s office. I mean that it is my goal to act in harmony with the reality of a situation. The distinction between these different types of action may be still unclear, so let me illustrate with a story from my own life, a time when I tried to act in a way that deemed, instead of in a way that was best suited for the circumstances.
****Fittingly enough for a Daoist context, this story revolves around a natural element, the wind. I was out on Salmon Lake in Oakland, Maine, kayaking with my friend, Meredith. Her family had owned a cabin on the lake for most of her life, and she was very familiar with the geography and weather patterns. After we had paddled out to a small island with blueberry bushes on it, I suggested we turn the trip back into a race. She agreed, with a sly grin, and we each took off paddling. I started leaning into my strokes and digging hard, making a beeline for the dock we had come from. Sitting back in her seat, looking almost casual, Meredith began a trajectory that would take her a greater geographical distance, but put the wind at her back for about the two-thirds of the voyage. Chuckling to myself at what I assumed to be her over-thinking of strategy, I pulled hard for my goal, gaining a sizable lead. I was in good shape, and did not stop exerting myself, even though the hard strokes tired me out. Nevertheless, it soon became clear that Meredith’s wind-aided course was not only saving her energy, but also time. She was waiting serenely for me at the dock when I pulled in, aching and gasping for air. She was gracious enough not to rub it in, but I couldn’t help being astounded by the difference her atunement to our natural conditions made. This was truly an example of me attempting to impose actions I deemed suitable, onto a situation where she was able to act in a manner that was effective based on the circumstances. Had I acted in a wu wei manner, without deeming or imposing myself, simply following someone with a better grasp on the reality of the situation, I would have gone faster with less effort. I appreciated learning my lesson that day. In fact, I appreciated it so much I have learned the same lesson many times since!****
Acting in a wu wei manner, acting in a way that does not deem or impose, holds not only teachings about our interactions with nature; it also has important lessons for us about how we do the work of justice-making. Many activist circumstances call for the collaboration of folks with privileged identities, and folks with marginalized identities. As a white, hetero, cis-male person, I have more often than not found myself doing justice-making work as someone with a privileged identity. However, one of the axioms of activism that I believe in is to empower the leadership of folks with marginalized identities. I believe if two people are working to end injustice, and one of them has experienced that injustice as part of the everyday reality of their life, while the other one has mostly learned of the issue from reading about it, that the person with the lived experience probably has a better sense of what needs to be done. That’s why as a male feminist, it’s important to me to follow the lead of women in seeking gender equity. That’s why it is important to me as a white person to follow the lead of people of color in doing anti-racism work. In these situations, I am the kayaker who is paddling on those ponds for the first time, while my collaborators in making the world more just and equitable are the ones who have grown up in that environment, and know that sometimes the longer geographical route is, in the end, the best one to take. I am the one who is susceptible to deeming, or imposing, my way of doing things, while those with marginalized identities are orders of magnitude more prepared to act based on circumstance, because they have been living those circumstances for years and decades.
As a minister, this can be a real catch-22; I am called to be a voice for prophetic witness in the congregations and in the communities I serve, but I really and truly value the perspectives of those with lived experience of oppression over my privileged perspective. That is why it is necessary in my view to follow leaders with marginalized identities. That is why it is important in our worship services to incorporate the words and views of writers with marginalized identities. When I got arrested with Freedom University last year, protesting the policies of the Georgia Board of Regents that are segregationist against undocumented students, it was important for me that I had been invited into the action by undocumented students, and that they took the lead in planning our strategy and tactics.
We know when we confront injustice in the world that we can’t not act, that inaction is not an option. But what we also need to slow down and remember, is that we have to act in a way that is not making things about us. That line between inaction, and stepping back intentionally so as to empower marginalized voices, that is a hard line to walk. It feels sometimes like we are being called to be Butcher Ting, to try and successfully guide an immeasurably thin blade so well that it does not need to be sharpened for 19 years. Our egos and our sense of urgency cry out for us to “DO SOMETHING”! And indeed, we must do something when we encounter injustice in the world, but we must do it in a way that brings about real results, not just that satisfies our yearnings to take action and be heard. And, in my experience, we are better at achieving real results when we do the slow, hard work of partnering with and empowering people who have been most directly impacted by the injustices in question. I promise we are going to talk a lot more as a congregation in the coming months about what that looks like, and that you won’t have to take my word for it.
Here is one way to state my truth: belief in the efficacy of non-action. Wu wei, acting without action; it is a real and powerful way of being in the world and creating change. I have cultivated it through careful study, meditative contemplation, and rigorous and persistent application to my own life and experiences. Every time I find myself out of harmony with this methodology, such as when I lost that kayak race, or when I make activism about my ego instead of about the work that needs to be done, I seek to use my disharmony as data for how to act more effectively next time. As one who ministers in Unitarian Universalism, I have the privilege of helping others to calibrate their own experiences in order to cultivate their own truths. Usually, those will be different from mine. Sometimes, we will get to be the ones kayaking with the wind. Sometimes we will still be the ones wishing we had. This process of working with others to create and hone our respective methodologies for knowing the world and our place in it is a lovingly co-creative endeavor. Let us each go forward remembering to be grateful for our capacities to engage in the blessed work of igniting inextinguishable flames of truth in the people and in the world around us. Peace, salaam, shalom, and may it be so.
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation
February 4, 2018
© Rev. Jonathan Rogers