Sixteen or seventeen years ago, I became acquainted with a United Church of Christ minister who had pastored in the Midwest and who was familiar with what life was like in the region where I grew up. We found it easy to converse, agreeing on a lot things, but also parting company on some others. But whether we agreed or not, our discussions were always cordial and in the context of friendship.
One day he phoned and asked if I might be interested in being part of a small ministerial breakfast club. He said that in other places where he’d served, four or five ministers who’d become good friends had gotten together for breakfast on a designated day each week, where they would “talk shop” or talk about anything else that happened to be stirring their minds, be it of a personal, congregational, national or international nature. The group wasn’t a formal ministerial alliance but a completely informal small friendship group who just liked to be together and share perspectives.
I found the idea intriguing and immediately agreed to participate. It was as if he and I were the “bookends” of the group—he was coming from what many would say is the most liberal Christian denomination, and I represented one of the most conservative denominations—certainly the most conservative in our little group of five.
Over the years, participants came and went. Our “members” were all current ministers, retired ministers or former ministers who had moved on to another profession but were still very active in church life as highly knowledgeable and committed lay members.
One day, a Unitarian Universalist minister, who was active in the Interfaith Council, asked me about the possibility of joining our breakfast group. If we were to say yes, we’d be breaking new ground in two ways: All of our participants to date had come from Christian denominations, and all of our participants had been men. Unitarian Universalism isn’t a Christian denomination, and the minister who wanted to join us was a woman.
I took her request to the others. All of us, wherever we fell along the liberal-conservative spectrum, had always given strong lip service to the concept of female equality. And we all supported full inclusion of females in pastoral ministry. So now, because of her request, we were going to have to give substance to our rhetoric—or admit to a gulf between our words and our actions. We all said yes.
That all happened about 10 years ago, and ever since our group has been gender-inclusive. Well, at least we’ve always had one female member—her! Currently, our numbers have dwindled to three: our female Unitarian Universalist, who’s now retired but still active in several UU and community projects; a former Catholic priest, who is incrementally retiring and has cut his mental-health counseling load to three partial days a week; and me. But we still meet weekly to solve the world’s problems, to moan about the vicissitudes of growing older and to share pictures of our grandkids and—purely as a matter of full disclosure and absolute honesty—to tell each other how exceptional our own grandkids are.
But now for another confession: The preceding paragraphs have been merely to provide background to explain why I’ve titled this essay as I have: Deeds Not Creeds. You see, in all our breakfast conversations, I’ve learned a lot about Unitarian Universalists and their perspectives on spirituality and life in general. And one of the things they emphasize—which has really impressed me—is that they call themselves a religion of “deeds not creeds.”
Now lest you think I’ve been dragged too far from my Christian roots, let me point out that deeds and creeds aren’t mutually exclusive. We can have both. We can have a robust and far-reaching theological framework and still consistently engage in deeds that demonstrate the on-paper truths we’ve articulated. But the slogan “deeds not creeds” is a healthy reminder that it’s very easy to get so caught in formal statements about esoteric spiritual matters that we don’t get out into the real world and make the difference we should.
The reality is, people in general aren’t nearly as concerned about WHY we treat them nicely, and WHY we come to their aid when they’re in deep need, as the fact that we DO care and that we ARE there for them. Deeds make a far greater impact on others than do all our well-crafted statements about deep spiritual realities.
More than a hundred years ago, Edgar A. Guest wrote a poem titled “Sermons We See.” He, like the Unitarian Universalists, recognized the impact of deeds. A few lines from his poem say: “I’d rather see a sermon than hear one any day; / I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way. . . . / And the best of all the preachers are the men who live their creeds, / For to see good put in action is what everybody needs.”
In the “Justice & Inclusion” segment of the official website of the Unitarian Universalist Association, we read: “We have a legacy of ‘deeds not creeds.’ Our work for a better world calls us to unexpected places as we harness love’s power to stop oppression. From grassroots community organizing to interfaith state, national, and corporate advocacy; in protest marches, prayer vigils, and press conferences; in homeless shelters and in prisons, Unitarian Universalists put our faith into action.”
In short, UUs are doers—as we’re told to be in James 1:22: “Do not merely listen to the word, . . . Do what it says.” And a major component in doing good deeds is outlining human needs to others and soliciting their help in meeting the needs of others—not just helping those in need, but helping to advocate for those in need.
Proverbs 31:8-9 puts it this way: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.”
The UUs seek to interact with real people and create solutions to real-world challenges. It’s their “work for a better world,” they say. But just because they emphasize deeds over creeds doesn’t mean their actions don’t have a philosophical basis. They’re just more interested in ensuring that the action takes place than that every I is dotted and every T is crossed and every word is properly weighed in a creedal statement.
So what exactly is the non-creedal philosophical basis from which the deeds of Unitarian Universalists spring? Good question. We’ll talk about that next week in Deeds Not Creeds—2.