Universalist Christian Initiative

Praying for our beloved dead

Sat, 25 Apr 2020 00:00:00 -0400

Dear friends:

In the last newsletter, I reviewed the unusual world of online worship that many of us have joined. It seems much longer than a month ago, no doubt because of our changed living conditions and coping with stress. (That is what happened to the option of having special issues of this newsletter.)

More than fifty thousand people have died of COVID-19 in the United States, and about two hundred thousand worldwide. If you are reading this, you may only be one or two degrees removed from someone who has died of this disease, or will be. I also mentioned last time I would work up a short memorial office to be used at home, even alone. With social distancing, we will not likely attend funerals, even if they take can place. Of course, people die from other causes, and their funerals will be just as remote. It hurts to think we will be kept apart when the need for the comfort of family and friends is the greatest. We can call (not for too long) or send notes or order food, of course. But there’s a spiritual dimension we need to recognize and address.

Many people say “I will pray for you” and do, and we ought to I take the ministry of intercession as a serious responsibility. But it is easier to fulfill a responsibility with a plan. Naturally, I take my prayers to church on Sunday. If there’s something urgent, I’ll recite a collect, either previously composed or extempore, and the Lord’s Prayer. Having a plan when asked to pray means it’s much more likely to happen. The same is true when we consider the dead and their survivors.

As it happened, a close friend recently lost a family member and instinct kicked in. Here’s what I did. I grabbed my 1963 copy of the Church of South India’s The Book of Common Worship, one of the first modern ecumenical liturgies: a careful balance of the new and old that fits in the hand. I turned to the burial service, read a psalm (90), skipped ahead and said the Lord’s Prayer, with the brief commendation (“Let us commend our brother departed to God.”) and the sentences from the Wisdom of Solomon following (3:1). Then I thought a moment about the deceased and my friend, pondered their mutual loss and asked God for help. I finished with appointed collect for the deceased and one for mourners. Had I been been leading this with a small group, I would have ended with the prayer of St. John Chrysostom (“Almighty God, who hast given us grace at this time…”) and the grace, like at the end of morning prayer in the 1894 Universalist prayer book.

Having prayed that way, I sensed this was right, and thought I would appreciate someone praying the same for me when my time comes. Of course, you need not use that psalm or those prayers but I suggest you make a plan and then pray, if not for particular deceased persons, then remembering those who die alone and nameless. Commend these people to God, who will make them heirs in eternity. Respond to terrible news with your faith.

Which brings up an issue with going back to older Protestant liturgies to construct such a funeral office. Before the twentieth century, the services treated the deceased in the distant third person, as if to say the destiny of those souls were fixed at death and that no amount of prayers or pleading would alter that. So no commendations. Of course, another way to look at the commendation is an act of trust in God, and as Universalists that means trusting in God “whose nature is Love” and who will “will finally restore the whole family of mankind to holiness and happiness.” We commend the dead into God’s care, and trust that God keeps promises. But since even Universalists in 1894 did not have a commendation in their funeral office, we can borrow and adapt one from the visitation of the sick.

¶ A Commendatory Prayer for a Sick Person at the Point of Departure.

O almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of just men made perfect, after their departure from this world; We humbly commend the soul of this thy servant, our dear brother, into thy hands, as into the hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful heavenly Father; most humbly beseeching thee of thy great love to receive him into that better country which thou hast revealed to us by thy Son Jesus Christ. Teach us who survive to see in this and other like instances of mortality, how frail and uncertain our own condition is; and so to number our days, that we may seriously apply our hearts to that holy and heavenly wisdom, which may in the end bring us to life everlasting. Amen.

May God give you strength in your times of sorrow, whenever they come, and grace to intercede for those who mourn.

Please tell your friends and associates about the Universalist Christian Initiative. They can sign up for these updates at universalistchristian.org/join/.

Sincerely yours,

(The Rev.) Scott Wells

Worship and life apart (for now)

Wed, 25 Mar 2020 00:00:00 -0400

Dear friends,

The global situation about COVID-19 is so well known that I won’t rehearse it here, or add to your worry. I pray God helps helpers in this time of need, and blesses those who (depending on one’s responsibilities) stay at home and wait.

A normal source of strength and hope — our face-to-face church lives — is not open to us. Either we have to make do with church communication, including services, at a distance or have to do without. Worse: Holy Week and Easter will likely be consumed by the pandemic, or rather the public worship and social occasions. Let’s review our options.

My home church and former pastorate, Universalist National Memorial Church has just started online Sunday services. So many other churches also have moved online and are having to become instant narrow-casters, often learning by trial and error. (I preached the first sermon and the text is available here.) But we need other options, both for those who don’t have the internet access, the equipment or the resources to learn the technology. Also, video conferencing has become so important that were it to fail, we would lose this new, valuable spiritual community, and have even less to rely on.

Might I suggest that we pray for one another, privately alone, in couples or households? Knowing that someone is praying for you, and that you are praying for others, is a mutual spiritual gift and connection. Can we take a moment on Sundays to pray for members of your church, and other Universalists, many of whom live solitary church lives?

Some people prefer free prayer, but if you do not, look to the services at hymnsofthespirit.org and the 1894 Universalist prayerbook here for ideas. I’ll note other resources as I find them and will post my resources as my main site, revscottwells.com. I may also publish special issues of this newsletter during the COVID-19 emergency.

Lastly, necessary restrictions on assembly mean that we might not be able to attend funerals or memorial services, or that they may be postponed. I will also develop a brief office to memorialize the dead, which I hope will be a comfort to you and others who know loss.

Stay well. I am praying for you.

Making Lent holier

Tue, 25 Feb 2020 00:00:00 -0500

Dear friends,

Lent begins tomorrow, and it’s worth thinking about what it can mean for us today. Some people with add more prayer, others fast and some will give up a small luxury, like chocolate or alcohol. Others will see options and do nothing. I might be in this do-nothing camp, but don’t want to be. My problem with Lent is that so many of its particular disciplines, particularly around fasting and abstinence, were developed in or recovered from a pre-modern era. They just don’t feel particularly Protestant and while that shouldn’t matter, it does. There’s something strange about fixed periods for doing what you ought to do all the time. As a vegetarian, say, I’m not prone to wild feasting any more, at any time.

I can’t help think that ancient disciplines developed to make the most of available resources. If famine threatened you, it makes sense to develop cycles of feasting and fasting. Enjoy the bounty when you can, but be able to live with dignity when there’s little to be had. If we look to ancient, and now-strange, disciplines of mortification, they might make more sense when there was nothing like modern medicine. Our bodies did and still can fail catastrophically, but without modern medical care, the best one could hope for was to appeal to God or the saints for help, and to esteem the undying spirit over the perishable flesh.

But our relationship to food and personal health are different today. Even if we don’t have what we want, we cannot pretend that something better doesn’t exist for others. (Which is a bitter thought, but an inescapable one for those who don’t have the basic goods of life.) Even if we look to places of food scarcity — either the lack of attainable, high-quality food in poorer neighborhoods in wealthy countries, or safe, affordable and adequate food in poorer countries — the knowledge of bounty elsewhere must be recognized. And it’s hard to imagine that real deprivation can be easily sanctified for those without, or honestly adopted by those who have the rest of the year.

So, on this Fat Tuesday, I choose not to feast any more than I already do, nor fast tomorrow. I’m not sure where my Lenten disciplines will take me, or how they will develop, but they must start with the idea that each of us deserve the makings of a decent life, in material and spiritual terms. Today’s celebrations and tomorrow’s reflections are not so far apart, or ought not be. Lent, perhaps, can be distinguished by its intentionality rather than its intensity or particular devotions. Of course, there are people who do this already; it is not an original thought, but one that has to be expressed clearly and frequently to grow and spread. So to you, prayers form a sanctifying (but not self-satisfied) Lent.

Universalists need Universalist churches

Sat, 25 Jan 2020 00:00:00 -0500

Dear friends,

I have taken an unannounced hiatus for the last three months while I reflect on the utility of this project, particularly in the context of the long-term loss of Universalist Christian identity within the Unitarian Universalist Association and last year’s institutional jolts that put its future, or at least its utility, in doubt. I was feeling generally pessimistic about the denominational legacy, seeing the focus of activity today heaviest among independent writers and thinkers, none of whom are Universalist in this narrower sense. Yet at the same time, and with no solicitation, people continue to “like” the associate Facebook page. A presence, even a subtle witness, seems to have value. The vital force of Universalism has moved away from the historic denomination, and a good thing too or else it would have died. God would not leave us without hope. This brings me back to a question I was also mulling last fall, “what can the churches offer ‘independent’ Universalism, if anything?” Universalism has appeal as an idea, but an idea can blow away as quickly as it comes. If Universalism is true, and of course I think it is, it needs a visible presence in the Body of Christ, to profess it to the world, to share the sacraments and to develop deeper faith among its believers. In an ideal world, this truth would be widely shared among the churches of the world, speaking out of their contexts, particular languages and charisms. But so long as the larger faith is widely hated or mistrusted — or worse, disregarded and trivialized — it needs a home and fellowship of its own. It may not be among the Unitarian Universalists, but the remaining handful of Universalist Christian churches need encouragement — and company.

If you’ve not seen the January 10 opinion piece by David Bentley Hart in the New York Times (“Why Do People Believe in Hell?”), then be sure to go back and read it. Hart is the author of That All Shall Be Saved: Heaven, Hell, and Universal Salvation, and it’s on my reading list.

I do not think the opinion piece covers any ground that this newsletter’s readers do not already know. It is, however, helpful in identifying (if not explaining) the mental outlook of those people who feel very invested in an eternal hell, and sometimes it is easier to point to an approachable writen piece in a disinterested outlet like the Times than trying to argue the point. And when it comes to universalism, there’s always someone ready to argue the point.

Please tell your friends and associates about the Universalist Christian Initiative. They can sign up for these updates at universalistchristian.org/join/ and I welcome your questions and comments at wells@universalistchristian.org

Sincerely yours, (The Rev.) Scott Wells

The greatness in the smallness of the church

Wed, 25 Sep 2019 00:00:00 -0400

Dear friends,

Recently, I’ve been thinking about what the future of the American Church looks like. It’s hard not to think of it in terms of survival and integrity. Survival in the sense of financial and institutional continuation; and integrity in the sense of remaining faithful to God, strong in its particular focus of ministry and free from corrupting social or political influences. (From that list you might tell that I value integrity over simple survival.) Between the declining Protestant mainline, the abuse-riddled Catholics and the political opportunism of the Evangelicals, it’s hard to argue with people who want no business with any of them. I’ll take encouragement when I can get it. Much of that encouragement comes from people doing the hard work: the people who make the most out of limited resources and meager opportunities. But so was the apostolic church; we are in good company.

And as anyone who’s dealt with small churches with paid mortgages knows, this kind of church is more likely to weather the cultural storms that are surely coming.

But then we may have to let go of customary ways and comforts. Recorded music, locally trained ministers and shared space may be the bargain keep churches and mission alive. The Christian church has a habit of adapting and surviving, even to transcend its place as the church of a nation or people, when the occasion allows and the Spirit wills. A smaller, leaner and more chastened church may be the one we always wanted.

As I was finishing this letter, the Washington Post ran an article about the (necessary) return of circuit preaching an a way to cope with shrinking communities and churches. “The circuit preacher was an idea of the frontier past. Now it’s the cutting-edge response to shrinking churches.” (Julie Zauzmer, September 23, 2019)

All souls need a healthy home

Sun, 25 Aug 2019 00:00:00 -0400

I’ve never found a developed theology of the created order in Universalism. But that’s not to say that Universalism doesn’t hint at one, or that it’s not needed.

Indeed, we need one more than ever. This summer has been a scorcher, first figuratively and now looking at the Brazilian rain forest, literally. This most recent example culminates in apocalyptic tales from what might happen if a significant part of the Brazilian rain forest burns, in a bid to farm more forest land. I’m not normally prone to accept the apocalyptic, but when the risks for the natural world are so great, I’m willing to listen closely and consider bad news even if it’s frightening and demoralizing. Such bad news needs a theological context. The created world deserves a theological defense as much as a political or technological defense.

We have long had a cultural cues for greater care in the natural world, and these prepare us to put them in a theological context. For instance, I wonder how much of our cultural and theological regard for the world comes from the space program. I have thought about this more in the weeks since the fiftieth anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing, not to mention the impact of the iconic Big Blue Marble photo taken of the Earth during the Apollo 17 mission. It’s one thing to think of your neighborhood or country, but from space the world is united and small and tender. So small, that when in 1990, as Voyager 1 was leaving the Solar System, Carl Sagan insisted on that the vessel turn its camera back towards Earth and take a parting picture. This, the lesser-known Pale Blue Dot, reduces our whole world into a speck, barely identifiable. The Earth is our home, and our only home in all the known universe. O Lord, thou hast searched me out, and known me.

Even if it’s not explicitly in our tradition, we have ideas to reach towards. Universalism treats salvation as both an individual and collective act. Were salvation treated only a personal and individual act, the basic relationship between human beings is undermined. It would be as if we were created separately, as if each person were his or her own species of being. And so is an assault not only on human solidarity but also equality of our creation, dignity and salvation. When we treat salvation as only collective, it undermines our individual ability to respond to salvation by choosing the good and enjoying the blessings of God. Even as we shall all be saved, some of us appreciate the salvation deeply in our lifetimes: this is the central benefit and blessing of being a Universalist. From that balance of the particular and universal in God’s relation to humanity, it’s not a far step to seeing God’s relation to the non-human world. The difference being that, nature is unable to respond to God’s blessing when it pressed and stressed past the point which living systems can bear.

We affirm the final harmony of all souls with God. Even without going as far as identifying a world soul that imbues all things with life, it not plausible to see human beings as being divorced from the natural world. Even in the most built of human environments, we depend on the life on earth for air and nourishment. We rely on living systems to purify waste and decay. Truly, we are not removed from the world in which we live.

If we would live like saved people, the health and welfare of the world’s living creatures and living systems must be our concern.

Please tell your friends and associates about the Universalist Christian Initiative. They can sign up for these updates at universalistchristian.org/join/.

Sincerely yours,

(The Rev.) Scott Wells

The truth will make you free

Tue, 25 Jun 2019 00:00:00 -0400

Dear friends,

I don’t think I’ve fully recovered from this year’s emotionally charged Unitarian Universalist Association General Assembly — and I didn’t even attend in person. So this month’s newsletter is going to be a quick reflection on something I’ve been mulling.

Last year, the popular podcast series Start Up examined the startup of a church in Philadelphia, and the challenges and institutional support that young and fragile churches rely on, including a web of Evangelical church planting networks. What interested me was that there were three hot-button issues that the featured church planter had to deal with because of the funding connection: the acceptance in ministry to LGBT people (including membership), the role of women in leadership and the question of hell. Personally it doesn’t surprise me that these three things are litmus fitness tests to Evangelical funders. But the church planter was careful to maintain an orthodox opinion, but it was clearly a strain. Those opinions make it difficult to engage in mission and ministry to a world which expect LGBT inclusion, leadership for women and holds distaste for doctrines of hell.

One way to square the circle is to prevaricate. If you look socially progressive and hit all the cultural notes for being accepting, then it’s easy for newcomers and new members to believe that the policies are more progressive than they really are. When honest people working in good faith are betrayed by welcoming-not-really-welcoming church, they are understandably embittered against the churches that they found so much comfort in. They were deceived by a lie. The truth, even a hurtful truth, would have been better than manipulation through deception.

I’m gay. I expect any church I work with to recognize and accept the ministry of women on an equal basis. I do not believe in the eternity of hell, and also no physical torment. I wouldn’t get very far in these church planting networks. But I can speak my mind with integrity, and you cannot buy integrity. As many LGBT people celebrate Pride this month, and in particular the fiftieth anniversary of the Stonewall uprising, I challenge liberal churches to go past putting up a rainbow flag as some kind of code for toleration. Church Clarity, featured in the podcast, is a distributed research site that identifies and publishes the operating policies around LGBT inclusion and women’s leadership, and I think its, well, clarity is direly needed. And next, that third taboo: plain preaching against the docrine of endless punishment. We can work on that one together.

Please tell your friends and associates about the Universalist Christian Initiative. They can sign up for these updates at universalistchristian.org/join/.

Sincerely yours,

(The Rev.) Scott Wells

Pray for me

Sat, 25 May 2019 00:00:00 -0400

Dear friends,

“Thoughts and prayers” have become a byword for ineffective action in the face of overwhelming suffering. “Save your ‘thoughts and prayers’ if that’s all you have to counter gun violence” is one example of a response, and quite an understandable reaction to frustration, anger and feelings of helplessness. I’ve also seen “I’ll pray for you” used as a weapon, and perhaps you have also. By those lights, there’s not much difference between pray and prey. Or much sense in praying at all.

But when I ask for someone’s prayers (leaving the idea of thoughts, or meditation, for another time) I really do want those prayers, and when requested, I gladly accept. I also pray for those in time of need, even if not asked, and very often will not report that prayer back to the one I’ve prayed for. A prayer isn’t a favor, or something to flatter another person. It is a gift, so far that it is a gift from God to meet us in a way where time, space, personal condition or background has no meaning.

What, then, do we accomplish when we pray for others? And how do we fulfill our commitment to pray for others?

What do we accomplish when we pray for others?

I suppose prayer’s usefulness depends on what you believe to be true of the direction of your prayer. If you don’t believe you meet God in your inner life, if you don’t believe that God cares about what’s there, or that there is no God, the effect is the same: that prayer is only meant to inspire and direct personal action. Surely that’s where that “thoughts and” construction comes from; it’s a broad approach to sidestep theological claims. But Jesus taught his disciples to pray. He said “the kingdom of God is within you” and that a Comforter will come for us. I do not believe we have been stranded without God’s presence. Even the wise seek guidance, and the strong seek help.

If you believe that God dwells with you and understands you, then accept that God will also hear your prayer. And if you are unsure that God dwells with you, prayer — and reflecting on prayer, and why and whom you pray for — might give you the confidence that God understands and loves you. A “successful” prayer isn’t one where we get what we ask for, but one which is freely and lovingly given. The eventual answer may be ambiguous, and may be long in coming. Prayer is a subtle business, and does change you. Being open to God, and attending to that subtlety will change you. Consider that, if you wonder how many good and brave acts have come from prayer.

How do we fulfill our prayers for others?

Now, a practical note: how do we fulfill our pledge to pray for others?

In the past, I kept a palm-sized notebook to jot down whom I was praying for and why. Not a ledger as such, but brief notes to prompt memory. But I would keep misplacing it, or worse, not pray from it. Now, when someone asks me for prayer, I do this. First, I stop what I’m doing and pause to distinguish this spiritual work from ordinary activity. Prayer is no time for multi-tasking. Then I put the person in mind, or a name or a situation. If there’s a prayerbook handy, I’ll find a suitable collect and read it, breaking at a suitable point to dwell on the person or situation I’m praying for. Then I finish the prayer and often say the Lord’s Prayer. If I’m unavoidably occupied, I’ll write down the name or type it into my phone for later attention. If there’s no handy prayerbook and time is tight, I’ll simply pray “Please: thy will be done” then think of the person, pause and say the Lord’s Prayer. And of course I bring my prayers to church, and say them quietly in the breaks of the pastoral prayer, whether I’m at the pulpit or in the pews.

Prayer takes practice.

Friends, let us pray for one another.

Please tell your friends and associates about the Universalist Christian Initiative. They can sign up for these updates at universalistchristian.org/join/.

Sincerely yours,

(The Rev.) Scott Wells

As if...

Thu, 25 Apr 2019 00:00:00 -0400

Dear friends:

A few words as we enjoy this season of Easter.

The recent fire at the Cathedral of Notre-Dame unsettled millions, and for a good reason. It’s hard to look a monumental structure, centuries old, at the heart of one of the world’s great cities, and not feel that something foundational is being lost. It’s even harder to watch the inferno televised live. What will be destroyed? What will survive, if anything? I was glad to hear that art and relics were rescued, and that copper statues on the destroyed and fallen spire had been removed the week before. But even that kind of news delivers its own problem: a moment-by-moment analysis gives every new development particular urgency, even causing anxiety.

And buildings as old as that cathedral, aren’t supposed to be examined moment by moment. When we think casually about them or the mountains or the seas, they seem eternal, a thought that doesn’t hold up to close scrutiny. Instead, the damage reminds us how fragile material things are, even great ones, carefully built and maintained. I suppose that’s what makes news of the shrinking and unstable icecaps in Antarctica and Greenland — objectively more important than Notre-Dame — so difficult to rally mass response: close scrutiny is too frightening, particularly if it means our homes (or our children’s or grandchildren’s) are washed away and are no more.

Next Sunday, the first after Easter, is often called Low Sunday, and historically Quasimodo Sunday. Quasimodo (“as if…”) from the Western Church introit, proper to the day:

Quasi modo geniti infantes, Alleluia, rationabiles, sine dolo lac concupiscite, Alleluia. Exultate Deo adjutori nostro: jubilate Deo Jacob.

As newborn babes, Alleluia, desire ye the rational milk without guile, Alleluia. Rejoice to God our helper: sing aloud to the God of Jacob.

Thanks to Victor Hugo, the name Quasimodo — he was discovered abandoned on the Sunday after Easter and so named — is a byword for a tragic figure, shunned by society, and few understand his courageous nature. Though fictional, no figure is better identified with Notre-Dame, even if (like me) you have never read the book and only have a sense of him from films or other elements of popular culture.

So pardon me taking the literary allusion and pointing it back to the original, the introit. As those reborn, given new life by our Savior, we put away guile and self-deceipt. They are false friends, and keep us from living life fully and richly. Easter fills us with emotional warmth, a sense of awe and loving tenderness. But it also bids us to sharpen our mind, train our discernment and contemplate our duty to one another. Rejoice, therefore: the cathedral was not destroyed and someday will be rebuilt. Rejoice more for the presence of mind that guides us to vital, the precious, the good and the eternal; and that will to overcome tragedy, adopt courage, take on needful work, and bring it to its goal. Such living makes our mind, body and soul a cathedral before the living God.

***

Please tell your friends and associates about the Universalist Christian Initiative. They can sign up for these updates at universalistchristian.org/join/.

Sincerely yours,

(The Rev.) Scott Wells

Don't "give out" or "give up" at Lent

Mon, 25 Mar 2019 00:00:00 -0400

Dear friends:

“Not giving up something for Lent” has become the cliché response to generations of Lenten abstinence, which itself has become a byword for spiritual barrenness and gaming. Better, the logic goes, to take on some new, positive activity for Lent and let the chocolate and booze take care of itself.

I hear those thoughts, and know they are heartfelt, but they leave me wanting more. I suppose I’m unhappy about ending a bad habit (or taking on a good one) for a particular time only to retrieve or abandon it when the moment has passed. I believe in personal progress (even as my faith in social progress wanes) and to lay down the bad and take up the good is key to that progress. I want to be a better person, and want it to stick. A time limit seems like too much of a concession — even New Year’s Resolutions expect more — and we make so many ready concessions to our human condition.

There is a different way of looking at abstaining, of course. There is a right time and a wrong time to do something, say like having firm words of guidance with a friend. You wait until she can hear them with the intended spirit; at the wrong time they only sound like scorn, and not at all like care. But you do care so you wait for the right time. It’s also possible that some of our Lenten habits train us to live with less so that we are spared the sharpness of deprivation when it inevitably comes. These can be grouped respectively as prudence and fortitude, both quaint, old-fashioned virtues that are long overdue for rehabilitation.

And disciplines of abstinence are not all hardship. I’m a vegetarian and benefit personally and materially from Christian abstinence. Look to any country with a strong Eastern or Oriental Orthodox background and you find a food culture that accommodates “fasting food” which is almost always vegetarian and usually vegan. (Washington, D.C.’s many Ethiopian restaurants are a godsend for vegans; no explanation necessary.) But I don’t see my meat-free, nearly egg-free and increasingly dairy-free diet as a hardship. It’s just how I live now, and the idea of eating animals makes me deeply unhappy. That’s why others won’t take a drink. There are a lot of widely desired but individually disliked habits out there; but is that enough?

Like many other people, I’ve read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, her first book. Since then, there’s been a second book, countless interviews and videos and now a series on Netflix. Thrift stores are groaning under the discards, good and bad. Some people like her ideas, others hate them, but I sense misunderstandings in the analysis. Perhaps you’ve heard that she’s into minimalism (not really), making you fold your t-shirts like an A-frame chalet (really quite neat) and that your possessions should “spark joy.” In a nutshell, rather that setting arbitrary goals about what you should own, Kondo asks her participants to know what they want and remove everything else. She starts with the goal in sight, but it’s not a goal she sets. Most notably, once you take her cure, you’re freed from the endless rounds of ineffective tidying. You are supposed to come through her process better than you were before, and it’s a once-in-a-lifetime activity. She says in so many words, you can be free of clutter. Free as in freedom, and not only free as in absence. Lent and its disciplines of abstinence tell you that you can be free of something, but only you, before the Eternal God, knows what that is, and from it free to be someone new.

But there’s the rub, too. Could you change in a particular way, for life? It’s hard to imagine voluntarily doing anything for the last time. After all, death will stop our habits good and bad. Perhaps saying — and meaning — never again seems too much like giving up on life. But don’t confuse the fear of missing out of something with the fear of missing out of everything. Life edited opens up possibilities, and room for new life, like spring shoots, to fill in the spaces.

Please tell your friends and associates about the Universalist Christian Initiative. They can sign up for these updates at universalistchristian.org/join/.

Sincerely yours,

(The Rev.) Scott Wells