THANKSGIVING AND THE QUEST FOR TRUTH

Delivered by parishoner Roy Watson at the First Religious Society in Carlisle
November 27, 2005

For the past couple of weeks, I have been paying even closer attention to Reverend Jensen than usual, in hopes of picking up some tips.  His recent insights into the comments of Ralph Waldo Emerson on the much criticized, but never named, Barzillai Frost did provide some guidance.  Negative guidance, but guidance nonetheless.  The Reverend and I have what might politely be called “differing opinions” on many issues, but it seems that we both agree on one thing about public speaking.  Wherever possible, start with a joke! 

I went online and was pleasantly surprised to find that there are several collections of UU jokes on the web.  While not as extensive as my personal collection of jokes which probably would not be very appropriate for this setting, I did find one that I liked: 

“Honey, it’s Sunday and you have to get up and get dressed to go to Church.”

“Why do I have to?  Nobody at that church likes me, and I really don’t like any of them.  I just don’t feel like going!  Give me two good reasons why I should go.”

“Well, for one thing it’s spiritually good for you, and for another, you are their minister!”

I have certainly not been very bashful in expressing my feelings that Reverend Jensen has - at times - drifted just a tad bit too much in the direction of what, - he assures us - is the “time honored tradition” of UU preachers to incorporate political issues into their weekly sermons.  Much of my frustration - beyond my inherent disagreement with the pretty much all of the politics of his positions - is that he commands not only the Bully, but the actual pulpit, and there is never any opportunity for opposition or counterpoint.  While the temptation loomed large for me to use this opportunity to offer something of a countervailing perspective, I realized that if I did that, I would then find myself guilty of doing exactly what I have regularly criticized the good Reverend for doing.  Therefore, rather than expounding on what I am sure most of you would view as my deviant political philosophy, I shall try to focus on concepts, thoughts and the reasoning process that shapes my life. 

Each Sunday we stand together and recite the Covenant of our Church, and there, right in the very beginning it tells us that, “The quest for truth is our sacrament.”  This led me to ask, “How does the UU church define a Sacrament?”  One definition is that a Sacrament is a Christian rite that leads to “divine grace.”  Well, that doesn’t really help since the common understanding of divine grace is that, “It is the means by which humans are saved from “original sin” and delivered into “salvation.”“  Considering that the merger of the Unitarians with the Universalists has seemingly already addressed that issue, I asked, “Why then the Covenant?” 

Reverend Diane Teichert from the UU congregation in Canton MA delivered an interesting sermon that discussed how ours was a “covenental” faith rather than a dogmatic faith.  She observed that, if a sacrament is a rite that is believed to be a means of grace, and if grace is “divine love and protection,” then our covenant expresses a theologically radical notion!  It says that our individual and collective searches for truth and the meaning of life, are the means by which we receive grace and know the divine.  It is the means by which we grow our souls or become more “whole,” or more holy.  In examining this concept, there has been much discussion on this simple turn of the phrase. 

It seems that the Covenants which we recite each week are adapted from a set of Covenants originally created by Rev. Charles Gordon Ames, who wrote them back in the late 1880s for a congregation in Philadelphia.  The Covenant that we recite each week has undergone some subtle, yet important changes from the so-called “Original Ames Covenant,” and these changes bear a moment of examination.  Ames originally used the phrase “of truth” rather than “for truth.”  The change to “for,” coupled with the fact that the word “truth” is NOT capitalized, clearly suggests that our covenant is not a search for a single (dogmatic) “Truth” that we collectively must discover and then embrace in order to achieve ultimate salvation. 

Nay, the covenenat that we make, and reaffirm to each other every week is that the true sacrament is the quest for truth, rather than some pre-ordained dogma of truth.   This may not seem very profound as we sit in the comfort of our gathering here in Carlisle, but consider how many people have met deaths of untold horror and torture throughout history, all over the “simple” issue of accepting a given statement as “True.”  As I suspect most of us in this room would now agree, it is the journey that is the most important, not the end in and of itself. 

I also suspect that most of us would agree that truth is a good thing.  The overwhelming majority of people describe themselves as “truthful.”  In my case, the concept of truth has been a key foundation of my life since childhood.  As a youth, I was very involved with Boy Scouts.  I am quite proud to be the 53rd Eagle Scout from Troop 2 in Dorchester.  I am also proud to be a cub scout leader together with my son, and I do this in hopes that I can impart to him some of the lessons that I learned growing up.  We all know that St. Paul had his famous epiphany from sinner to saint while traveling on the road to Damascus.   While my epiphany may not have had quite the same impact on history, it was certainly a watershed moment for me.  

One of the many things I learned when I went to college was that I was actually financially “disadvantage” growing up.   I wanted things that my mother would not (I later understood - could not) buy for me.  So in order to get some of the things that I wanted, but did not have, I developed a rather unhealthy proclivity of stealing.  One day, in spite of what I thought were my exceptional skills, I was caught shoplifting!  The store manager brought me to my mother, who was doubtless aghast and embarrassed at what her cherubic young son had done.  The end result was that in exchange for not telling my father (and thereby avoiding what polite company now describes as “corporal punishment”) she extracted a promise from me that I would never again steal, and she made me give my Boy Scout oath that I would not. 

That memory and the image of that promise has stayed with me my entire life.  I became deeply committed to telling the truth.  From that day forward I committed myself to those fundamental precepts that I learned from my blonde, blue-eyed, curly haired Red Neck father who was born in Little Rock, Ark.  Traveling as I did regularly between the two cultures, I developed a very deep appreciation and life long respect for some of those “quaint, old fashioned” concepts that to me really define someone from the Deep South: Among the many, what I call “Southern” lessons my father taught me was this: “You are only as good as your word, and your word is your bond!”  It is my belief that the power of a promise - coupled with a handshake - is understood by a Southerner in ways that few Northerners that I have met really fully appreciate.

It is perhaps somewhat ironic that 2 of the 3 colleges I have gotten degrees from have “truth” as part of their motto.  Reverend Jensen and I  are both alums of mother Harvard, whose motto “Veritas” is Latin for truth.  (It was actually modified from a longer original phrase, but that is another story.)  My undergraduate, Brandeis also has truth as a motto: “Truth, even unto its innermost parts.”  I originally hoped that my third school, Boston College may round out the trinity, but it did not.  Although one person did suggest that he thought their motto was “Go Eagles!,” it turns out that it is “Ever to Excel.”  Oh, well, 2 out of 3 isn’t bad. 

Telling the truth doesn’t really seem to be that profound a concept, but I have found in my life that it goes far beyond the seemingly simple act of not lying.  There’s a Country & Western song named “Fancy,” where a mother’s last words of advice and guidance to her daughter is, “To thine ownself be true!”  That can mean many things to many people, but to me it means that I cannot really address an issue or a problem, unless I start by admitting to myself the truth.  Sometimes, that means admitting to myself things I am not very proud of, but unless and until I can honestly admit to myself my fears, my prejudices, my anger, my pride and my jealousy, I can never even begin to take the first steps necessary to address and correct my problems. 

Finding out what is true can be a very elusive process.  My experience has been that in far too many cases, people are very quick to accept something as true, not because it necessarily is, but simply because it sounds nice, and everyone else says that it is true.  They accept as true the statement of a concept or an ultimate goal because it sounds nice, but they rarely take the time (or make the effort) to examine or question whether or not the actions that they are being asked to take will lead to, or for that matter have any hope of achieving the stated goal.  Just because the stated goal is worthy, does not make the proposal useful, or in some cases even good.  In fact, in many cases the proposed action to achieve the goal will actually be detrimental to achieving the stated goal.  Therefore, if “the quest for truth is our sacrament,” then I believe that it is our obligation and our duty to critically analyze something to see if the “journey” or methodology is “true,” to the stated goal.

I believe that the principals of the Free Market, as have been so brilliantly explained by Doctors Milton and Rose Friedman represent one of the most effective, powerful and collectively beneficial to all - forces (and tools for understanding) in the world today.  While time does not permit a more thorough discussion of How and Why this is true, I would submit to you as an example for your consideration one issue that I think most of us have a least devoted some thought and reflection to in the recent past: Affordable Housing.  Few among us is so truly callous and mean spirited as to deny people access to safe and decent housing.  The problem is that the solution imposed on us by the government, will not and cannot accomplish the stated goal - no matter how well meaning or intentioned.  The issue here is not ultimate goal, but rather the flawed means by which people propose to accomplish the goal.

We are all thoughtful, considerate and caring folks.  That is one of the things that draws us together.  We are also generally in agreement on the ultimate goals that we seek.  The question is whether or not the many proposed actions we are asked to take, will ultimately achieve a given goal.  The namesake of my alma mater, Supreme Court Justice Louis Dembitz Brandeis once wrote in the case of Olmstead v. U.S.,  “Experience should teach us to be most on our guard to protect liberty when the government’s purposes are beneficial.  Men born to freedom are naturally alert to repel invasion of their liberty by evil-minded rulers.  The greater dangers to liberty lurk in insidious encroachment by men of zeal, well-meaning but without understanding.”  (1928)

So, how does all of this apply to giving thanks, and Thanksgiving?  Well, perhaps it is time to tell the real truth about the first Thanksgiving.  I first read about this in an article by Jeff Jacoby, the token conservative employed by the Boston Globe.  His article was based on detailed research done by Professor Judd Patton, an economics professor at Bellevue University, Nebraska, who was most gracious in speaking with me on several occasions regarding his research. 

We are all, of course familiar with that touching story of how a small group of Puritans (they were only later called Pilgrims by Governor Bradford starting in 1669) who left England for Holland because of opposition and persecution by the Church of England, and then later left for the New World in search of that freedom.  Although their original destination was the mouth of the Hudson River, rough weather and the lateness of the season forced them to land first at what is now Provincetown, and then to spend the winter and settle in Plymouth.  The story of the hardship and suffering of that first winter is well known.  Fully one-half of them perished that first Winter.  Also well known is the story of how an Indian named Squanto taught them to plant corn, and that they were so grateful that they invited all of the Indians to join them for a celebration following their first harvest.  All of this is true, but what I find even more interesting is “The Rest of The Story,” that is often left out. 

This trip - religious motivations aside - was a massive undertaking, and required funding in the form of investments that were provided by two companies.  You might call them early “venture capitalists.”  Like any good investor, they insisted on a written contract to spell out the terms of the agreement, especially how they, the investors would recover the hoped for return on their investment.  The original agreement mandated that everything that they had was to be treated as shared or common property, and that each person would take from the common “pot” equally with all other persons.  It was further agreed that during the first 7 years, “all profits and benefits that are got by trade, traffic, trucking, working, fishing, or any other means of any persons, remain still in the common stock until the division.”  Generally speaking, in today’s terms we would call that a form or variation of Communism or perhaps Socialism! 

The problem with this “concept” is that it did not work.  What the history books don’t often tell you is that as a direct result of this original system of government, the colony almost didn’t survive.  The reason was that people were very discontent with being forced to share the fruits of their labors with others.  What really saved them - as is set forth in great detail by Governor Bradford in the careful records that he kept - was a radical change in the terms of the original contract!  Following a near rebellion by the surviving colonists, they decided to abrogate the terms of the original contract and enter into the “Mayflower Compact,” that called, among other things for the exclusive right of cultivation of assigned parcels of land, and the exclusive right to keep the fruits of one’s labor in cultivating that land.  In other words, Free Market Capitalism! 

As the record states, “At length, after much debate of things, the Governor (with advice of the chiefest amongst them) gave way that they should set corn every man for his won particular, and in that regard trust to themselves; in all other things to go on in the general ways as before.  And so assigned to every family a parcel of land ... This had very good success, for it made all hands very industrious, so as much more corn was planted than otherwise.” 

The evidence of this success is plainly documented in the original records.  In the first year, 1621, the Pilgrims planted only 26 acres.  In 1622 that grew to only 60 acres.  But, the following year under the “newly agreed upon system,” that number skyrocketed to 184 acres!  It is amazing how much more motivated people are when they have the right to own and keep the fruits of their own hard work and labor.  As some commentators have observed, once they saw the power of capitalism and the forces of the Free Market, America has never looked back! 

Well, there goes yet another myth to the dustbin of history.  It is not that there is anything that is really wrong about the romanticized but not entirely accurate version.  Rather, it is that the truth is so much better, and has so much more for us to learn from. 

I love the Fall.  It has always been my favorite Season.  It is the time for the harvest, when the farmer reaps the bounty from what began in the Springtime as only a hope and a promise.  The air in the Fall seems so fresh and crisp and clean you can smell the forest as it begins hunkering down for its long hibernation.  You can see the thousands of beams of light as the rays of the sun cut through the naked bones of the forest, no longer cloaked in the shroud of leaves that once filled those spaces with an impenetrable and seemingly eternal “greenness.”  There is a song to the forests.   Each year I watch with fascination as the leaves face the inevitability of Winter.  I watch as one by one they do not simply fade to a dull brown and die, but rather they seem to fight back against the inevitable with defiance on their lips.  Collectively, they band together to “blaze out briefly in an illimitable and terrifying darkness.”  It is as if they know that they will die, but they will die with “defiance on their lips, and that the shout of their denial would ring with the last pulsing of their hearts into the maw of all-engulfing night.” 

Only to be born, fresh once again, when Spring awakens them.