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On
Human Worth
Children's Story: “Respect and
Dignity,” a Mbundu tale
The
headman of a particular village died, and the elders met to decide
who should replace him. One elder said, “We do not want a strong
leader who will dominate us, telling us what to do and how to
behave.” Another elder said, “We want a leader who has
dignity.” So, they wondered who possessed great dignity, and had
no authority. Eventually they decided a dog should become the
chief.They chose the largest dog in the village, and organized a grand ceremony at which to install him as their head. Colored mats were spread in the center of the village, and a large chair was put in the center. To the sound of a drum and a marimba, the dog was led to the chair. For a few moments, the dog sat on the chair, and gazed around him. Everyone was impressed at his dignity, and congratulated the elders on choosing him. Then a group of young women appeared, carrying a large tray of roast fowl. When the dog saw the roast fowl, greed took hold of him. He leapt from the chair, grabbed a roast fowl, and ran into the forest to eat it. The people gasped in horror. The oldest woman in the village walked to the chair, and stood beside it. Then she said to the people, “Dignity without strength is a sham. Choose a leader who possesses strength of heart and mind and confer dignity upon that leader by your own attitude.” The people immediately chose the old woman, who without doubt possessed the greatest strength of heart and mind of anyone in the village. And by treating her with respect, they conferred dignity on her. Sermon: "On
Human Worth"
Copyright © 2005 by The Reverend Ms. Robin F. Gray. All rights reserved. Two battleships were at sea on maneuvers in heavy weather. The captain of the lead battleship was on watch as night fell. They were traveling through patchy fog that made visibility poor. Then, the lookout on the wing of the bridge reported, “Light, bearing on the starboard bow.” “Is it steady or moving astern?” the captain called out. “Steady, Captain,” came the answer, confirming that they were on a dangerous collision course with the other ship. The captain called to the signalman, “Signal that ship, tell them we are on a collision course, advise you change course 20 degrees.” “I’m a seaman second class,” came the reply, “You had better change course 20 degrees.” The captain was furious. He spat out, “Send this message: I’m a battleship. Change course 20 degrees.” Back came the flashing light, “I’m a lighthouse.” The battleship changed course. Steven Covey (in “The 7 habits of Highly Effective People”) tells that story to teach that principles are “like lighthouses.” They are natural laws that cannot be broken.” Yet the principles Unitarian Universalists look to for direction are not creeds, they do not confine belief, but rather serve to shed light on our explorations. These principles are not divine decrees, but, the gleaning of human experience; offered as imperfect descriptions of the values that inform our journey. They are not even natural laws, though it seems they reflect the reach of humanity grasping for some laws, which we believe, should govern human behavior. Not everyone would even call the principles a shining beacon for our faith. Davidson Loehr, the Minister of the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin, Texas finds the principles a bitter pill...he writes, “The Seven Principles are the Creed of Unitarian Universalism, which is the religion of our masses. When the first adult catechism came out a dozen years ago, ‘What Unitarian Universalists Believe, an Introduction to the Seven Principles,’ the newly-invented religion began dumbing down the people who had come to us for raising up." And, Davidson Loehr is not alone in worrying about the place the principles have taken in our denomination. There are others who are concerned that the principles are being treated as a creed, or worse, as a litmus test determining who is and who isn’t living up to the standards of Unitarian Universalism. A creed has the advantage of being something, which one can choose to accept or reject, as many of us have rejected at least parts of the creeds attached to other religions. Blue litmus paper is applied to acid and alkaline substances by an outside source, and a litmus test establishes someone outside ourselves as the ultimate arbiter of our fitness for inclusion in our congregations. So, if our principles are not meant to be a creed, are misused when they are tests of purity, and can’t even be relied upon to be a religious foundation for our movement; what are they? With all the limitations I’ve mentioned, I still believe that the seven principles that our Unitarian Universalist congregations affirm are more like lighthouses than battleships. They provide a steady pulse of light that helps us find our way. They hold their ground while we weave a path toward them. As we navigate the sea of life, we can imagine them at the pinnacle of a rocky coast, dashed by waves, but standing tall all the same. If you’ve ever seen the photographs of Jean Guichard, you have the image I hold of our principles. Guichard shows us lighthouses standing on solitary promontories, engulfed by waves that reach nearly to the pinnacle of the lighthouse, but the lighthouse is not moved. That which was constructed by human hands and heads and hearts, holds its own in the tempest. The principle under discussion this morning is, in my mind, an especially well-crafted lighthouse as well as one especially beset by waves that seek to engulf it. The first principle is a short declarative statement and sets out our parameters for discussing humanity. “We affirm...the inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Which means, according to the dictionary definition of each word, that we declare solemnly, but without taking an oath, that an essential attribute of every person is both a personal merit and a quality of character or ability that deserves our respect. Thus, we ask ourselves to look at both the quality of character or abilities a person has demonstrated or developed and also to presume a personal merit worthy of respect. The Mbundu tale of the dog appointed chief over a village of people, demonstrates the relationship of dignity and respect quite nicely. The dog looked dignified, but the villagers quickly found they had made a poor choice for entrusting their respect when the newly installed chief ran off after a juicy plate of meat. Their second choice for chief, the oldest woman in the village, already had the qualities necessary for leadership, and she blossomed into her full dignity when the villagers finally accorded her the respect she deserved. Respect and dignity are interwoven like the fingers of two clasped hands. When we offer each other respect, dignity dwells among us. When we disrespect one another, the opportunities for dignified living plummet. Prisoners in every era, in nearly every part of the globe, whether taken in war, or consigned to prison by courts, are treated quite customarily with little or no respect. All signs of society and status are stripped from them. They have little work to do by which they can demonstrate their character. Those who guard them often treat them as a “herd of bodies” to be moved from one place to another, and sometimes torture or abuse them as well. How many people retain dignity under those circumstances? A few do, certainly. Those lucky few draw from an inner well of respect to maintain their sense of dignity. A very, very few have become extraordinarily well known, in part because they are the exception to the rule of what happens to people when their respect is stripped from them. Nelson Mandela. Victor Frankl. Malcolm X. Angela Davis. (Your personal list may differ from mine, but I'm thinking it is as brief as mine.) A part of the moral force of the Mbundu tale recounted this morning comes from the sub-text, which suggests that the oldest woman in the village was not the first to come to mind as a dignified candidate for chief. In American culture, those who attain great age are often stripped of their respect as well. They live, often, under straightened circumstances. They have little work to do by which they can demonstrate their character. If they end up in elder ghettos or nursing homes, those who watch over them often see them as bodies to be moved from one place to another, and sometimes abuse them as well. In our society, elders are not accorded the respect that fosters dignity. Of course, one cannot (and I will not) ignore the fact that the elder who seemed least likely to be a candidate for dignity was also a woman. In our culture, women sometimes have to demand respect. They live, in increasing numbers, under straightened circumstances, especially if they are raising children alone. Childrearing is often not considered work, and little emphasis is laid on the depth of character needed to rear the next generation of Americans. Often, in our society, women are not accorded the respect they deserve. This first principle, which might be understood to be about the face to face interactions between individuals or small groups, is also an indictment against a society that offers disrespect to so many people, and shares so little respect with so few people. When we affirm the dignity of every person, we are demanding of ourselves that we not only offer respect to the people we meet, but, that we continue to work in society to increase the respect accorded to people in all circumstances of life. Helping to create a society that grants due respect to all its citizens is work enough, but, we are not finished yet. There is the matter of inherent worth to discuss. That is the essence of a being that exists in spite of what he or she has or has not done. We proclaim, in this first principle that being human is enough to call from us some positive response. Respect, yes, but something more, a call to recognize of the great value of human life; to esteem every being fully. Here, our personal theologies help us to determine just how high the measure of our esteem should be. Some say, “God Don’t make no junk,” positing with that simple phrase that no matter how disposable a human might appear to be, that appearance belies a glorious creation that underlies it. Others might say, “Goddess is immanent, hers is an indwelling presence that sacralizes and connects all,” -- even though the sacred is at times hard to see. A humanist might say, “If we value humanity in the general, we must also accord them esteem in each instance of human life.” You might, of course, not say any of those things with just those words, but, whatever your view of humanity, it meets our first principle at just this point; and if you perceive a humanity that has something less than inherent worth, this principle challenges your assumption. The implication of an inherent worth that’s spread around every person is that we all have the same amount of it; that we are all to be valued the same. At this point, it seems almost too easy to say that we all think we are worth quite a bit, and so we ought to extend this same valuation to others. It is too easy to say that, unfortunately, and for some people it really is not true at all. There are people who hold very low levels of self-esteem, and may even have an inflated sense of other esteem. There are people who have rather high levels of self-esteem, who therefore give themselves permission to treat others as if they have no worth at all. Finding the right valuation of self-esteem that engenders a healthy other-esteem as well can be a difficult task. I’m thinking at this moment in time of a friend who conducts a personal self-evaluation every evening before retiring. He makes a list of all his sins for the day, and as he is a humanist, he does not pray for forgiveness but, instead, creates a mental list of things he could improve on the next day. Because he is a humanist, I cannot imagine the list of sins he enumerates as being acts contrary to an angry god; no, I think he holds some standard for himself, which he acknowledges he has failed to meet. The first principle, the worth and dignity of every person, might be such a standard for any of us. A Unitarian Universalist minister, Beverly Boke, has offered us a beginning for a personal review in relation to the first principle. In the meditation today, we sat in silence to consider her questions:
I would suggest that we might benefit from looking at our sins through a positive lens. If, before going to bed, we look back at the events just past and ask ourselves questions about our positive actions it might serve to more easily reinforce our successes, instead of only recounting our failures. Here are four questions you might adapt for use in your contemplations:
“The day after we moved to a small town in Colorado my wife Bev did grocery shopping. We moved few food items with us so she filled four grocery carts full. She asked if she could pay with an out of state check. ‘We just moved here,’ she explained, ‘and don't have local checks yet.’ They said, ‘Yes, no problem.’ But when she began looking for her checkbook, she discovered that she had left it at home. All of the groceries had been checked and sacked. ‘I'm so sorry,’ she said, ‘I thought I had it with me. If I could just leave the groceries here for a few minutes, I'll run home and get the checkbook.’ ‘Don't worry about it,’ the cashier told her. ‘Take the groceries home. The next time you're in the store you can pay for them.’ We had just moved from a large city and she couldn't believe what she was hearing! This clerk had never seen her before. But she treated her as if she were a VIP. She was somebody! Don't you love it when you are treated like you are somebody? Because the truth is, we are all somebody. We are all important. And maybe most businesses cannot (and should not) let everybody pay with credit, but even strangers can be treated with honor and respect… Here is an exercise that may dramatically change your life: for one month treat everybody you meet as if he or she is the most important person in the world. The clerk in the grocery store, your spouse and children, a teenager from the church, strangers -- honor that which is sacred in all of them. Give your undivided attention. By your words and actions, communicate to them all how important they are to you. Show them great respect and kindness. You may be amazed at what happens to your relationships! You may not single-handedly solve the problem of world peace -- but, in one small way at least, you will make a great difference.” Our principles ask us to do just that, don't they? They ask us to make a difference. |
