The Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Salem, Oregon

UUCS Sermons
Sermon by the Reverend Richard R. Davis

This morning I’d like to ask you to consider surrendering.   Maybe not right here on the spot, but sometime, when the time is ripe for you to do so.   Not so long ago I would not have dared ask this of you, but during the past year or so, I’ve begun to include a ritual of daily surrender into my own life, and I find it to be a very great relief – more on that a bit later. 

            Now I will admit that the surrender is a rather foreign concept in our liberal religious tradition.  And for very good reasons.  Many of us left other religious traditions where we were asked to surrender our thinking minds to what we were told was some wiser authority and power.   And many others of us here were never part of such religious traditions and came here hoping to avoid such spiritual passivity and acquiescence.   We didn’t come here to surrender. 

            Thinking about this stirs up an old memory.  Once, many years ago when I was a teen, I was sitting in the pews at the conservative church in Columbus , Georgia that my family and I attended.  It was during the annual revival when I had to go listen to a long boring sermon every evening for a whole week - truly one of the low points of my year.  The preacher was pleading with us to surrender our lives to Jesus.   The choir was singing an old revival hymn about this, over and over and over again, as people came forward to re-surrender (supposedly, as baptized members we had already surrendered our lives to Jesus).   It was a war of attrition.  The preacher was going to keep asking the choir to sing this hymn until everyone surrendered and came forward.   For reasons we never discussed, my mother, my two sisters and I refused to be manipulated in this fashion and stayed glued to our seats.  Even though I couldn’t articulate it at the time, it felt like what was really being asked of me was to surrender to social pressure, not to some greater good.  I’m proud that my family and I stuck it out.  We didn’t surrender and finally the preacher did.  The service finally ended and I knew in my heart that my connection to this religious tradition had ended. 

            After a brief anti-religious spell in my late adolescence, I found my way to religious traditions that did not ask me to surrender, but to strive and to think for myself. 

In my early twenties I began a practice of Buddhist meditation – something that required more dedication and perseverance than anything I had ever done.  It’s a good daily practice, but not an easy one in the beginning.  It is a religion of self effort that requires a strong, slow, steady heave of the will, day after day.

            Then, a few years later I had the great good fortune to find my way to Unitarian Universalism, a religious tradition that began as a rebellion against the notions of human spiritual helplessness.   The early Unitarians were those who rejected the standard theological notion of that time that said that humankind is inherently depraved and sinful and there is nothing people can do to save ourselves.   The early American Unitarians knew that we could and should grow – morally, spiritually and intellectually - by virtue of our own efforts, that we should not surrender, but strive all our lives. 

            Such thinking was memorably crystallized by Ralph Waldo Emerson - who began his career as a Unitarian minister - in his brilliant, still relevant essay “Self Reliance.”  It was a call to arms for courageous, independent minded souls to resist the social forces that insist on meek behavioral and intellectual conformity.  “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.” And “there is a time in every (person’s) education when (you) arrive at the conviction that envy is ignorance, that imitation is suicide, that (you) must take yourself, for better, for worse, as your portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to you but through (your own) toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to you to till.” 

            To sum up the essay in a few words, Emerson said don’t surrender yourself, but affirm and assert and apply yourself.  Be your own unique self for there is not another like you, and there is a special role for you to play in this world.  Think and feel for yourself because the last thing the world needs is another malleable, mindless conformist who can be manipulated by collectivist manias. Above all, trust yourself – you have an inner light and subtle intuition that can be a valued, reliable guide if you will heed its wisdom.  

            Of course Emerson would recognize that there’s a bit of irony in saying that we should rely upon some great sage from the past (namely him) to get official, spiritual permission for us to rely upon ourselves.  Nevertheless, it’s precious advice to carry with you down the path of life.  It’s an essential part of the spiritual foundation of our religious movement.   We call it individual freedom of conscience. 

            So perhaps you are a bit alarmed to hear that I want you to consider surrendering – but hear me out.   This idea of surrender crystallized for me about a year ago.  I was reading a very fine article by the psychotherapist and Buddhist practitioner Rob Preece.  Preece notes that there are times in all our lives when factors beyond our control impinge – often very unpleasantly – upon our lives, and then you learn that your self reliant ego has met its match and then some.  Certainly, in my ministry I witness such moments in our lives quite often.  You lose your job or you can’t find a job, you learn that you have cancer, that your child is ill or has been snared by some addiction, or you simply crack under the severe pressures in your life, you are at your wit’s end.  Every one of us has such challenging moments at one time or another - times when you need something more than what you, in self reliant mode, can offer to yourself.   There are times when you just can’t pull yourself up by your own bootstraps.

            Preece, writing as a Buddhist, notes that since Buddhists do not rely upon a supernatural deity for support, they can feel bereft and alone at such moments of crisis.  The same is true for many Unitarian Universalists as well.  Our perspectives on God vary considerably, but as a general rule, even the many theists among us do not expect God to literally rescue us when troubles arise.  We don’t believe that there is some big Daddy God who can literally part the waters of the sea to help us escape from our travails.   I don’t see any evidence that God works like that. 

            So what can you do when you are at your wit’s end and you know that some superhero God is probably not going to intervene for your personal benefit to change a harsh reality so your discomfort is taken away?   You can surrender.  That is, your ego can surrender the notion that we are ultimately in control of all facets of our lives.  There are some things we can control, but many other matters – most things really - that lie beyond our power to manipulate.  But still, to whom do you surrender?

            Preece draws upon the ideas of Carl Jung to provide some guidance here.  According to Jung, there is a deeper self than our conscious ego – a self that is the totality of our being, which holds a sense of the untapped store of wisdom and potential, a self that is not a separate, isolated entity but is in authentic relationship with the larger whole of reality.  And during inevitable moments of crisis and challenge when our conventional ego strategies can’t save us, we can surrender our usual dominance of our egos to this deeper more encompassing self. 

            Not being well versed in Jungian psychology, I would simply say that a person can surrender to the flow of life, the larger reality of which you are an integral part in a spirit of trust and acceptance.   You surrender the illusion that you have much control.  Really, you don’t have to be facing some crisis to realize that you have no control over most things in life.  It’s good to have a clear distinction between what you can and can’t control.  The American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr once prayed “God, give us grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things that should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.” (a modified version of this is widely used in Alcoholics Anonymous).   Similarly, there is the middle eastern proverb, “Trust in God, but tether your camel.” 

            It’s very liberating to have a clear view of such a distinction in mind day by day.  Lately, in my ministry I often find myself thinking – “I need to do this and that and do my best.  I need to do my part and perhaps encourage others to do theirs from time to time.  But beyond this, it is out of my control, so I will not fret or worry about that which fretting and worrying about does no good.  I must conscientiously do my part, but not be attached to results which lie beyond my control.  I can surrender in a spirit of trust and acceptance.”    This is vastly different from giving up and admitting defeat, caving into despair.  It is simply to acknowledge your honest limitations and trust in the greater flow of life and death, and it’s very liberating.  You can take the weight of the world off your shoulders.  It doesn’t belong there. 

            Now the Buddhists have a ritual practice of surrender – a prostration (a full body bow).  Many years ago I often used to do this in the Zen Buddhist Center in San Francisco at the chanting ceremonies, but I never adopted this practice as my own.  Frankly, it looked like we were bowing down before an idol, but it was explained to me that we were simply bowing to our own true nature.   As I was reading Rob Preece’s article on surrender, he spoke of his own prolonged practice of prostrating himself (a practice he learned from the Tibetan Buddhists).   Here is the part of Preece’s reflections that really got my attention:  “It has often surprised me that in the process of surrender what I give up is fear and struggle. A kind of strength comes from truly giving up. Something changes when I genuinely let go and ask for help. The challenge is maintaining this openness, rather than grasping at solid forms or quick solutions to feel safe. It’s not that I give up personal responsibility, believing that some external entity is going to rescue me. Rather, I realize that if I truly listen to the innate wisdom of my Buddha-nature, it will guide me. “Trust your inner knowledge-wisdom,” as my teacher used to say.” 

            This made so much sense to me – this notion of surrendering fear and anxiety and struggle – that I realized this would be a new practice for me.   Now, every morning, before my meditation I do nine prostrations and let go of whatever comes into my mind.  I give up anger.  I give up fear and despair.  I give up anxiety about the future and regret about the past.  I give up greed.  I give up resentment.  I surrender all those self destructive burdens that I do not need to carry.  By this daily act, I am establishing a relationship of trust and acceptance with the larger reality in which I live and move and have my being.  There is something about physically enacting something to give it a more complete meaning.  Aldous Huxley, speaking of the importance of ritual dance in humankind’s spiritual history noted:  “Ritual dances provide a religious experience that seems more satisfying and convincing than any other… it is with their muscles that humans most easily obtain knowledge of the divine.”  Similarly, it is with my muscles, my physical act of prostration, that I most readily obtain a deep sense of surrender.

            Now this practice may seem a bit foreign to you.  I strongly suspect that for most of you it will not be your cup of tea (I do know of some members here who have a similar practice, however). Whether or not you adopt a practice of daily prostrations is besides the larger point which is that it is liberating to surrender your sense of needing to have control and be responsible for that over which you have no control.  

            Surrendering is like swimming.  If you stiffen up and tread furiously and cling to leaden weights you think you’re supposed to carry, you will sink and drown.  If you relax your muscles, let go of that which pulls you down and trust the water to buoy you up, it will do most of the work to keep you afloat.  So it is with the water of life in which we all float.

            Now there is a ritual of surrender that we all practice, whether or not we recognize it as such.  Consider this.  You could choose to be what one wag I know calls “home churched.”  That is, you could stay home by yourself, read books and listen to tapes and watch videos whose wisdom and insight would exceed whatever flows from this pulpit.   You could do that, but you don’t.  You come here because it’s really hard – nearly impossible – to be religious entirely alone.   As the Unitarian theologian Henry Nielson Wieman noted:  “Our civilization is one in which people, as a usual thing, do not know one another beyond superficial levels. Consequently we are constrained, concealed, unconfessed; at best suave and smooth and efficient, with an oily ease in getting about and dealing with people.  But the depths of personality are never exposed. Human personality cannot grow and flower in such dark crypts of social concealment.  It must have sunshine and rain of understanding and sympathy (which can be found in religious community)….  It is almost impossible to avoid a self-centered religion when one has no active regular share in the corporate worship of a larger religious community”    

            We need the fellowship of community to thrive.  Many of the social ills of our day can, I think, be traced back to the widespread lack of community, the absence of a network of support and caring and concern for so many people.

            When we form community we surrender – we surrender the notion that we are separate, autonomous people who can go it completely alone.  We may be a community of self reliant souls who esteem independent mindedness, but we need each other for support in our unique, self reliant journeys.  It is an act of surrender to open up to receive the blessings of this community, to be with others, to listen, learn, to be inspired and reminded of our highest and holiest values and to feel challenged to align our lives with them, to have opportunities to act for the greater good of our congregation and community. Then, too, we have a need to be heard, to be recognized, to be honored and accepted.  We all need that to grow, as plants need sunshine and water.   We need to surrender our isolation to receive the blessings of community.  This community is a blessing to many.

            Finally, it is an act of surrender for each one of us to support this community as best we can – to be generous with our time, talents and money.   Generosity is a form of surrender – in the best sense of the word.  You willingly surrender something you do have for the good of the greater whole, and yet, if enough of us did not choose to do this, we would whither and die.   Yet you do give, and your generous giving is a great blessing – our liberal religious presence is vitally important in this community in more ways than time allows me to describe.

            As you may know, we are approaching the time of our Every Member Canvass in which each member is asked to make a financial pledge for the life of our religious community.   A lot rests on our having a successful canvass, and I hope you will freely choose to be more generous than ever.  

As for me, I could worry and fret a lot about this.  But I won’t – between now and the conclusion of our canvass, I will surrender all fear and concern and anxiety about this every morning – both because I have no control over whether or not you will choose to give, and because I do trust in your goodness and generous nature.