I’ve called this talk Amen, looking back to an amusing comment made to me some years ago. In the months prior to staring ministry training at Unitarian College, Manchester (UCM), on most Sunday mornings, I would set off to take services around NELUM (North East Lancashire Unitarian Mission) or I would drive up the new M66 and around the M60 Manchester ring road, to take services around the Manchester district. That was often the Sunday timetable.
One such Sunday, I drove to Stalybridge Unitarian Church, where I knew that Dawn Buckle, one of the UCM team, would assess my presentation. That would focus on speech, how I came across, that sort of thing. Dawn passed away in recent months after a life-time fulfilling many Unitarian roles.
After the service at Stalybridge, it was a comment from her which amused me. She asked me, “What about your AMEN?”
I looked suitably curious. And she demonstrated what she meant….. (vocally, I was too weak and casual. It should be… very firm and full of intention).
Later, I thought, I could have asked her, “What does the word Amen mean, actually?”
Clearly, she expected it to sound firm and definite, but has our usage of Amen come to mean something different for us, now? I stopped using the word a while ago. It was hard to let it go – there seemed to be a necessity always to end with it! We retain elements of our tradition but after a bit of stretching, the elastic can snap, and something else goes!
At the time I led that service, if I had thought consciously about the meaning, I would have thought ‘short affirmation’, something like ‘We agree’. Often enough, nowadays, we say ‘May it be so.’
Recently I looked a bit more closely. In a Christian setting, in Judaism, and in Islam, there is a sense of ‘it’s true, we verify’ but we recognise that ‘the truth/what we verify’ is subject to slippage. Words will never establish exactly what we mean.
Hence, in this church, we use the term ‘conversation’ rather than ‘discussion’. Andrew Brown introduced this concept early in his ministry here. It limits endless circling around a subject, leading sometimes to useless argument.
Our ‘truth’ is also always subjective. We like the term, ‘to speak our truth’ (my truth, my experience…). Recognising the difficulty of expressing any ultimate truth in words, yet we endeavour to respect others’ attempts to express it; and we may agree to differ.
‘We need not think alike, to love alike.’ That is the quotation inscribed on the glass of our Hall door. We attributed the saying to the 16th century Transylvanian Unitarian, Francis David. More correctly, in his native Hungarian, that should be David Ferenz.
In 2012, an American Unitarian Universalist minister, Rev. Peter Hughes, gave a talk in which he explained to his gathering, that Francis David had not said this, but it is instead, to be traced to John Wesley, mid 18th century, a full 200 years later than David.
In a sermon, Wesley had asked ‘Though we may not think alike, may we not love alike?’ No-one has managed to trace it back to Francis David.
Peter Hughes explained, “Despite the value that we place upon critical thinking, Unitarian Universalists possess an active rumour mill. This and other phrases have become flagship statements for our faith and have been printed in countless books, included in newsletters, sermons, and websites. This quotation is not genuine.”
The following is a rough guide as to how Unitarians came to adopt the saying. In a period of religious turmoil in this country, over 200 years ago, some were arriving at a Unitarian understanding of Christianity but as we know, this thinking was pilloried, put down, criminalised. In that period, the new Unitarian congregations had become aware of the earlier, strong Unitarian activity in Poland and in Transylvania (which is now part of Romania – but largely Hungarian in language).
So, this saying ‘We need not think alike to love alike,’ in recent generations was assumed to be ‘ours’, but it seems to have come from John Wesley. It is worth noting that in the early 19th century, there was a Unitarian strand within Methodism. But a Trinitarian understanding prevailed as Methodism became established.
There’s a somewhat related phrase, about ‘mixing with like-minded people’. If I hear it said, I am tempted to insert a caveat. Are you sure we think alike? In what ways? We are alike in that we prefer to ask pertinent questions, rather than accepting pat answers to deeper issues. Beyond that, we respect each others’ words.
That leads me to another ‘flagship’ Unitarian statement.
‘Freedom, Reason, Tolerance.’
I recall talking to York Unitarians many years ago, about why I particularly dislike the word Tolerance. To me, the word is bland, colourless. It suggests, ‘to put up with’. Scientifically, it is broad in its usage: there are tolerance levels in metal – and other things I really know nothing about. But I do know something about us folks.
Tolerating another person can be when there is no alternative, when we cannot get on with someone – or with another group of people. We tolerate because we have not succeeded in breaking through to each other as human beings.
Unitarians tolerate other religious groups, whereas fundamentalist religionists may raise objections. Generally, we do not raise objections.
When a person or group seems difficult or objectionable, there are higher levels of understanding beyond mere toleration, and I would go next for Acceptance.
Acceptance feels calmer. It does not stir up negative feelings within us – because such a feeling is unproductive to us and to the other person. Acceptance is warmer, quieter, though it is still passive: it still does not feel interactive.
As I understand it, there is another level beyond Acceptance: the quality of Appreciation. There is active connection when we appreciate something or someone. There is a quality of colour, brightness: appreciation can be transformative for both parties.
So, in meeting someone of a different culture, are we tolerant only, or are we ready and willing to meet and greet everything about that person? Perhaps we can truly say, ‘Vive la difference’.
I looked up that saying, too! The story goes that Anatole France, a 19th century french writer, used the phrase ‘Vive la difference’, in response to an emancipated woman who claimed there was little difference between the sexes. ‘Vive la difference’ was his bright response!
So now I wonder, if ‘Amen’ after a talk or a service seems to be less an affirmation or verification, but more of an invitation to agree – or to differ – but positively.
‘Amen’ then becomes close to, ‘we need not think alike, to love alike’. And Peter Hughes recognised that, whoever said this in the first place, it is still a good thought that reflects our central values.”
And we may say ‘Amen’ to that!