Please click the link to watch Rev. Cynthia Snavely’s video recording of this sermon.
In the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, a seeker named Vidagdha Sakalya approached the sage Yajnavalkya with the question, “How many gods are there, Yajnavalkya?”
“Three thousand three hundred and six,” he replied.
“Yes,” said he, but just how many gods are there, Yajnavalkya?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Yes,” said he, but just how many gods are there, Yajnavalkya?”
“Six.”
“Yes,” said he, but just how many gods are there, Yajnavalkya?”
“Three.”
“Yes,” said he, but just how many gods are there, Yajnavalkya?”
“Two.”
“Yes,” said he, but just how many gods are there, Yajnavalkya?”
“One and a half.”
“Yes,” said he, but just how many gods are there, Yajnavalkya?”
“One.”
I would go one step farther. “Yes, but just how many gods are there?”
None.
And, I would say “yes” to all those answers.
When I moved from the United Methodist Church to Unitarian Universalism in the early 1990s, there was still a saying that Unitarian Universalists believed in one god at most, but that was changing. The Pagans were making their presence known among us.
I have a reading in my files that sounds as if it could have been written by one of us in a “Building Your Own Theology” class, but it wasn’t. It was written by Alicia Ostriker, described by Wikipedia as an “American poet and scholar who writes Jewish feminist poetry.” She taught for many years at Rutgers. This poem was published by our Unitarian Universalist publishing house, Beacon Press, in an anthology of women’s writings titled Cries of the Spirit.
It is titled, “Everywoman Her Own Theology.”
“I am nailing them up to the cathedral door
Like Martin Luther. Actually, no,
I don’t want to resemble that Schmutzkopf
(See Erik Erikson and N.O. Brown
On the Reformer’s anal aberrations,
Not to mention his hatred of Jews and peasants),
So I am thumbtacking these ninety-five
Theses to the bulletin board in my kitchen.
“My proposals, or should I say requirements,
Include at least one image of a god,
Virile, beard optional, one of a goddess,
Nubile, breast size approximating mine,
One divine baby, one lion, one lamb,
All nude as figs, all dancing wildly,
All shining. Reproducible
In marble, metal, in fact any material.
“Ethically, I am looking for
An absolute endorsement of loving-kindness.
No loopholes except maybe mosquitoes.
Virtue and sin will henceforth be discouraged,
Along with suffering and martyrdom.
There will be no concept of infidels,
Consequently the faithful must entertain
Themselves some other way than killing infidels.
“And so forth and so on. I understand
This piece of paper is going to be
Spattered with wine one night at a party
And covered over with newer pieces of paper.
That is how it goes with bulletin boards.
Nevertheless it will be there.
Like an invitation, a chalk pentangle,
It will emanate certain vibrations.
“If something sacred wants to swoop from the universe
Through a ceiling, and materialize,
Folding its silver wings,
In a kitchen, and bump its chest against mine,
My paper will tell this being where to find me.”
Personally, I will still use the word God, but I don’t mean a being, and definitely not some omniscient, omnipotent being. Still, I think there is something holy, something sacred in the universe, maybe more like an energy or the Tao than a being. And yet, and yet, I can appreciate the representations of whatever that may be.
In a course on “Religious Experiences: Images and Beliefs,” Harry Buck and Louis Hamman—after telling the story of Yajnavalkya’s answers to the question, “How many gods are there?”—say, “In any Hindu temple there will be, in addition to the central sanctum, a doz`en surrounding shrines to other deities: Ganesa, Hanuman, Durga, Gauri, and so on. Were one to ask any worshiper Vidagdha Sakalya’s question, ‘How many gods are there?’ one would hear Yajnavalkya’s response from even the most uneducated: ‘Sister, there are many gods. There is Siva here, and there is Visnu, Ganesa, Hanuman, Ganga, Durga, and the others. But of course, there is really only one. These many are differences of name and form.’”
I realize we human beings often need names and forms, but I also think that as soon as we give the holy name and form, it becomes but a symbol of the holy.
On August 1 of 2010, Rabbi David Cooper began his blog this way: “What is God? God is not what we think It is. God is not a thing, a being, a noun. It does not exist, as existence is defined, for It takes up no space and is not bound by time. Jewish mystics often refer to It as Ein Sof, which means Endlessness.
“Ein Sof should never be conceptualized in any way. It should not be called Creator, Almighty, Father, Mother, Infinite, the One, Brahma, Buddhamind, Allah, Adonoy, Elohim, El, or Shaddai; and It should never, never be called He. It is none of these names and it has no gender.
“When we call It God, what are we talking about? If we say that It is compassionate, full of loving kindness, the source of love, we may be talking about our image of what we think the divine nature ought to be, but we are not talking about Ein Sof. In the same way, if we say that the God portrayed in the bible is vindictive, jealous, angry, cruel, uncaring, or punitive, we cannot be referring to Ein Sof. Ein Sof includes every attribute but cannot be defined by any of them individually or all of them combined,” (from If God is not what we think it is, what is It? — Rabbi David Cooper).
Perhaps even considering if there is such a thing as God, and if so, what it is, is like considering how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. That, of course, would first have to begin with a consideration of whether there is such a thing as an angel. Perhaps it is a fruitless enterprise.
Louise Hopkins said this at a Quaker meeting back in 1991: “I used to spend a lot of time wondering if I believed in God. By God I meant the omnipotent, omniscient Master of the Universe who made burning bushes talk, who parted the Red Sea, and who so loved the world that he gave his only son that we might be saved. Sometimes I thought I believed, sometimes I thought I didn’t, but I was never really certain. Some time ago I stopped spending so much time wondering if I believe.
“However, with all my heart I believe love is better than hate. With all my heart I believe courage and compassion are better than cowardice and judgmentalness. With all my heart I believe that there is a part of me that is a whole lot better than the rest of me; that when we act out of that special part within us, and respond to that special part in others, the results are truly amazing. I call that special part God, or the Light. I guess I could call it something else, but it is so powerful and so wonderful, God seems like the right word.
“I’m still open to that other God, perhaps the rest of God. If any burning bushes want to talk to me, I’ll be glad to listen. But, if not, I suspect I won’t feel the lack. There is so much more I want to know about the God within. Learning to understand and to access, and to actualize the inner God, is enough to keep me busy for a lifetime.”
As I said as I ended the Time for All Ages story, I think it is in one another or in any other living thing that we are most likely to encounter the holy. The medieval Persian poet Saadi said, “To worship God is nothing other than to serve the people.” Personally, I would expand people to all beings.
You likely know the quote from Alice Walker’s novel The Color Purple: “Tell the truth, have you ever found God in church? I never did. I just found a bunch of folks hoping for (God) to show. Any God I ever felt in church I brought in with me. And I think all the other folks did too. They come to church to share God, not find God…. God is inside you and inside everybody else. You come into the world with God. But only them that search for it inside find it. And sometimes it just manifests itself, even if you are not looking, or don’t know what you are looking for.”
I don’t need to call it God, but I do believe there is something. As Article II of our Unitarian Universalist Association bylaws says, “Direct experiences of transcending mystery and wonder are primary sources of Unitarian Universalist inspiration. These experiences open our hearts, renew our spirits, and transform our lives,” (from Article II Purposes and Covenant_Final as of GA 2024.pdf). Or as our Unitarian forebear Ralph Waldo Emerson put it, “Within us is the soul of the whole, the wise silence, the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal One. When it breaks through our intellect, it is genius; when it breathes through our will, it is virtue; when it flows through our affections, it is love.”
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