The Flaming A sermon by Rev. Fred Small First Parish in Cambridge, Unitarian Universalist December 2, 2012

Now is the season of lights!

Lights kindled in the long dark of the winter night, the same fires our forbearers lit in hope and faith that in time the sun would return to warm the earth.

Now is the season of lights—Diwali, Chanukah, Tazaungdaing, St. Lucia’s Day, Loi Krathong, Winter Solstice, Kwanzaa, Yule, Christmas.

But every Sunday morning in here at First Parish we kindle a flame in this chalice to symbolize our hope and our faith: Unitarian . In the history of the great religions of the world, is but an infant, but the has roots as deep as humankind. From time immemorial, in every part of the globe, , cups, and flagons have been central to religious observance.

The chalice used by Jesus at the Passover Seder on the eve of his execution became the Holy Grail of legend and quest. Czech priest was burned at the stake for his radical suggestion that the communion chalice be shared with lay people. In The Chalice and the Blade, author Riane Eisler uses the chalice to symbolize the “partnership way” of social relations. When we share a sacred cup, we drink the power of community, generosity, and love.

Across cultures, fire signals divine power and knowledge. Prometheus steals fire from the . Moses sees Yahweh in a bush that burns but is not consumed. On the Pentecost, the descends upon Christ’s apostles in tongues of fire. From the sacrificial flames of the Hindu Vedas to the Pagan Yule log, from the miraculous Maccabean lights of Chanukah to Roman Catholic prayer candles to Quaker candlelight vigils, fire kindles the spiritual imagination.

A burning flame can mean witness or sacrifice or purification or illumination or all of these and more.

Sixty-five years ago, an Austrian artist named Hans Deutsch brought these two ancient symbols together. In the 1930s, living in Paris, Deutsch drew satirical cartoons of Adolf Hitler. In 1940, when the German blitzkrieg swallowed France, the hyperbole of Deutsch’s cartoons turned terrifying reality. Deutsch fled Paris for the South of France, made his way across the Pyrenees to Spain, and slipped into neutral Portugal with a forged passport.

In Lisbon, Deutsch encountered the Rev. Dr. Charles Joy, commissioner for Europe of the Unitarian Service Committee, recently established in Boston to aid from the Third Reich. A former vice president of the American Unitarian Association known for his translations of the works of Dr. Albert Schweitzer, Joy directed USC operations in Lisbon, the only open port in Europe in the early 1940s, to which millions came fleeing Nazi persecution.

Joy and the fledgling USC soon became embroiled in intrigue, the young minister dealing on a daily basis with spies, informants, and secret messages far beyond the frontiers of seminary education. \

Hans Deutsch, an atheist, found himself moved and inspired by the courage and devotion of these Unitarians far from home. He would write to Joy: “There is something that urges me to tell you . . . how much I admire your utter self denial [and] readiness to serve, to sacrifice all, your time, your health, your well being, to help, help, help. I am not what you may actually call a believer. But if your kind of life is the profession of your faith—as it is, I feel sure—then religion, ceasing to be magic and , becomes confession to practical philosophy and—what is more—to active, really useful social work. And this religion—with or without a heading—is one to which even a 'godless' fellow like myself can say wholeheartedly, Yes!”

But the USC struggled under a practical handicap in the cloak-and-dagger world into which it had plunged. The organization was largely unknown to the desperate people it strove to help. It needed a symbol to communicate authority and safety swiftly, in any language, even in the dark of night with the Gestapo pounding on the door.

Joy asked Deutsch to create a symbol for USC papers “to make them look official, to give dignity and importance to them, and at the same time to symbolize the spirit of our work. . . . When a document may keep a man out of jail, give him standing with governments and police, it is important that it look important.”

Deutsch’s pencil and ink sketch impressed Joy powerfully.

“I like it very much,” Joy reported to his board in Boston.

It is simple, chaste, and distinctive. I think it very well might become the sign of our work everywhere. It represents, as you see, a chalice with a flame, the kind of chalice which the Greeks and Romans put on their altars. The holy oil burning in it is a symbol of helpfulness and sacrifice. In ancient and medieval art this chalice is frequently found, and the design itself, modernized and stylized, though it is, reminds one of the signs seen on the old monastic manuscripts. This was in the mind of the artist. The fact, however, that it remotely suggests a cross was not in his mind, but to me this also has its merit. We do not limit our work to . Indeed, at the present moment, our work is nine-tenths for the Jews, yet we do stem from the , and the cross does symbolize and its central theme of sacrificial love.

2

The USC immediately applied Deutsch’s design as a seal for its official papers and a badge for its agents. As my colleague Dan Hotchkiss observes, “When Deutsch designed the flaming chalice, he had never seen a Unitarian or Universalist or heard a sermon. What he had seen was faith in action—people who were willing to risk all for others in a time of urgent need.”

While Unitarians resisted the Nazis in Europe, Universalists back in the faced theological upheaval.

Founded in the late 18th century on the principle of universal salvation—the radical notion that a loving would not damn any human being to eternal torment— flourished in reaction to the hellfire and brimstone of . By the 20th century, however, the majority of American Christians no longer worried much about , and Universalism found itself flirting with irrelevance, a victim of its own success.

Confronting this predicament, some Universalists proposed a new understanding of their faith, one based not on universal salvation in Christ but upon universal principles shared by all faiths: a trans-Christian and post-Christian Universalism inclusive of Christian wisdom and tradition but not privileging Christianity above other faiths.

Among these advocates for a new Universalism was a group of young clergy who called themselves the Humiliati, a somewhat pretentious name meaning “the humble ones.” Arguing that Universalism had outgrown its uniquely Christian origins, the Humiliati embraced a new symbol: an off-center cross within a circle. The circle represented Universalism’s embrace of all faiths, and the off-center cross indicated its Christian roots while implying that Christianity was no longer at its center. Both the symbol and its meaning were controversial, but gradually both gained broad acceptance among Universalist congregations.

After Unitarians and Universalists consolidated their efforts in 1961, the Unitarian flaming chalice and the Universalist off-center cross were blended, the thin profile of the chalice and flame still faintly suggesting a cross, and set within two overlapping circles symbolizing the joined movements. You can see this design on the cover of all three of our hymnals, Singing the Living Tradition, Singing the Journey, and Las Voces del Camino. It served as the symbol of our Association for more than four decades.

In 2005, the UUA unveiled this new logo [holding up design].

Introducing the new design in UU World magazine, President William Sinkford noted its “more contemporary look” but offered no further explanation. Unitarian Universalists, never lacking opinions nor reluctant to express them, reacted swiftly.

Some complained the new design lacked empty space for mystery, or eliminated the intertwined circles, or suggested a halo.

3

Unitarian Universalists for Jewish Awareness objected that the chalice, now deprived of a base, more closely resembled a cross.

Now to my eye the two circles remain clearly visible, and the chalice with its thicker cup seems to me less like a cross than before.

The editor of the New Massachusetts Universalist Convention Newsletter derided the logo as a “flaming birdbath,” adding, “The UUA's previous logo, for all its problems, at least made an attempt—by placing the chalice off-center—to acknowledge that our heritage is more than alone. The new logo says simply: we're Unitarian.”

Which seems to me, a half century after the two movements conjoined, to be holding on to sectarianism well past its expiration date.

When I telephoned the UUA to inquire about the new logo, I was directed to a page on their website that helpfully explained: “The new design conveys the idea of light emanating from the flame, or illumination. It reflects our institutional values: spiritual, dynamic, energized, embracing, welcoming and affirming, contemporary and grounded in this world.”

Compared to the old logo, the new flaming chalice strikes me as less elegant but bolder— which happens to be the direction in which I want Unitarian Universalism to move: to become less fastidious and more forceful.

So I’m down with the new logo, even while our own church website and the new Spanish-language hymnal continue to display the old. There’s no need to discard the familiar even as we embrace change.

You, of course, will have your own opinion of the old logo, the new logo, and the various alternatives graphic designers will continue to propose. When the great 16th-century Transylvanian Unitarian Francis David said “We need not think alike to love alike,” he probably wasn’t thinking about logos, but the principle holds true.

Speaking of logos, I’m particularly enthusiastic about the logo of our Standing on the Side of Love campaign, which we’ve borrowed in its rainbow version for the new cover of our order of worship. With its pockmarks and ragged edges, I call it “the distressed heart.” It seems to proclaim that while the suffering of life has tattered love’s fabric, its flag still waves with enduring bravery and beauty.

As we confront the opportunities and perils of the years to come, Unitarian Universalism offers an experience rich in religious diversity and the liberty to explore it. The flaming chalice is an enduring image of our communal spirit and the fire of courage, curiosity, and the quest for justice.

May it be a crucible of compassion to hold the heat of personal and social transformation.

4

As in the days of its origin, may it be a beacon of hope and a promise of safe haven to the persecuted and the oppressed.

As we light our chalice each Sunday, may we remember those who lived and died for our free faith, and may we be worthy of their legacy.

Amen and Blessed Be.

Benediction by Lauralyn Bellamy

If, here, you have found freedom, take it into the world. If you have found comfort, go and share it with others. If you have dreamed dreams, help one another, that they may come true! If you have known love, give some back to a bruised and hurting world.

5