We are in a time of craving. To get close to other people again, to hug loved ones – it seems unreal. And yet we know that the day will come and we long for it. In the meantime, our subconscious is in survival mode, repressing daydreams that make it harder for us to cope in the here and now. But on Thursday night at 8pm there’s a release. Collectively, we anticipate the great day, we catch a glimpse of it, we can almost taste it; we will be together again.
We see how this longing for a future might work in Christian or Jewish worship, but what about Unitarians? Aren’t we just too diverse, and frankly - insufficiently religious, to express any real yearning for a future day? How can this be part of our worship when Humanists tend not to believe in God or an afterlife? I say it can, because of our inheritance.
Last week I suggested how Eastern influences within Unitarianism deepen our sense of connectedness. But while connection is a great strength of Eastern spiritualities, and relatively speaking a weakness in Judaeo-Christian traditions, the position is reversed when it comes to a collective longing for a glorious future. (This is one of the 10 things the Clap for Carers does better than church)
So, since Eastern spirituality has no vision of a collective future, and Humanism rejects many assumptions on which the Judaeo-Christian longing for the future is based, where does that leave Unitarians? Actually, we have great resources if we look to our Judaeo-Christian roots for inspiration, rather than to the East.
Judaism looks towards the Day of the Lord, a Messianic age and the World to Come; Christianity sees the future in terms of the Kingdom of God or Heaven. Islam has something akin to this, but Islam has not had the same influence on Unitarianism that Judaism and Christianity have had, so we can describe the Unitarian inheritance as Judaeo-Christian.
Eschatology, the doctrine of the last things, is far more developed in Christianity than in Judaism, which affirms an afterlife and a transformed world future, but emphasises ethical living in the here and now. Liberal Christians take a similar view, and are closer to Jewish attitudes towards the future, than to mainstream Christian ones. Conservative and evangelical Christians have developed four basic eschatological schemes, which differ so much that at least three of them must be badly wrong. Liberal Christianity, though, retains a longing for a new world, but has largely (not entirely) secularised this hope.
The same division between conservative and liberal visions for the future is seen in Judaism. Orthodox Judaism awaits a Messiah, but Reform or Liberal Judaism anticipates a ‘Messianic Age’ of peace and justice, without an individual Messiah figure.
The similarity between Liberal Christian and Liberal Jewish longing for the future is not unrelated to the fact that they are both strikingly humanistic. Why should this surprise us? Liberal Christianity, Liberal Judaism, and Humanism are more deeply connected than we like to admit.
Unitarian Christianity can, and should, claim Humanism as a blood relative. Humanism grew from the same roots that gave birth to Unitarianism, namely Liberal Christianity, Liberal Judaism, and the Enlightenment. Humanism thrives most in post-Christian societies, so it’s sadly ironic when the similarities between Humanism and Liberal Christianity appall Evangelical Christians, but are invisible to Humanists and Religious Liberals. Evangelicals see Liberal Christians as Humanists in disguise, practicing a form of ‘Baptised Humanism,’ yet many Humanists see Liberal Christians as deeply ‘other’, and identify themselves against Christianity.
Of course, a family connection does not guarantee harmony. Christianity emerged from within Judaism, and then claimed a mission to replace it. This had lethal consequences, and the church harmed itself in the process. Christianity simply cannot understand itself without a relationship with its mother faith.
In similar fashion, Humanism emerged from within Liberal Christianity and Judaism, as much as it did from the Enlightenment. Christianity has tried and failed to kill off its offspring, and Humanism, in its worse expressions, still seeks to erase those faiths from which it emerged. But that’s not, I believe, how most Humanists see it, and it’s not, I hope, the majority view among Unitarian Humanists.
After all, we don’t want to build a world with just one belief system, so why build a church like that? Humanism is a post-Christian worldview, and the presence of Liberal Christians and Humanists in the same church enriches both.
And now back to the future, or rather our longing for it. Humanists are some of the most optimistic people I know. They raise a prophetic cry against the state of the world, yet are seized by an optimistic vision of how things could be. Their longing for a world transformed is infectious and attractive. I think they possess this, in part, because of their history: they are post-Christian, and have secularised their religious inheritance, ditching stupid, dangerous elements, but retaining an eschatological fervour. When Liberal Christians and Humanists talk about the possibilities of radical structural change in society, and the possibility of peace between nations, it can be hard to tell them apart.
Humanists believe change is possible, because they blaze with optimism about human nature. This, too, has a religious root. Unlike classical Christianity, there’s no Original Sin in Judaism, which is positive about human nature. Liberal Christians have ditched Original Sin and instead have adopted the Jewish and Humanist view of human nature. All three affirm its capacity to change for the better. So a yearning for the future, and a bright hope in human potential is in us all, Humanists, Christians and Jews.
Unitarians have jointly inherited and adapted the Judaeo-Christian sense of hope, and so it can, and should be part of our worship. We share a golden vision of a world transformed. Let’s long for this together on Sundays as well as Thursday evenings.
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