religion

The People’s Peace

Rev. Douglas Taylor

May 18, 2025

Sermon Video:https://youtu.be/254crtZ9Bio

I know my title suggests I will be talking about peace – and I will be. And I know my sermon description suggests this will be a history sermon – and it will be.  But really, this morning is all about integrity and the freedom of conscience.

Rev. John Haynes Holmes is likely not a well-known figure from our religious history, but his impact has been significant. He was born almost 150 years ago and was an influential pacifist minister during the first and second World Wars. He served the Community Church of NYC for nearly four decades.

As I mentioned in my description of the service, Holmes was a staunch pacifist, and notably a co-founder of both the NAACP and the ACLU. Yet he was a controversial figure, his relationship with Unitarianism and with his colleagues was tumultuous. We effectively pushed him out of Unitarianism for being a non-conformist in his pacifism. Which is wild. I want to share with you the story of how our Unitarianism got caught up in the fervor of supporting the war and nearly lost our moral center as a tradition.

On both the Unitarian and Universalist sides of our heritage, we have prided ourselves on our commitment to freedom of belief and freedom of conscience. I have several times preached about the foundational value of honoring our theological diversity, of allowing for variety among our beliefs together, of insisting that we do not exclude based on such differences. Freedom of belief and freedom of conscience are central to our way of faith. Yet we have not always practice these freedoms well. My sermon today begins in one of our failures on this count.

I need to set the scene. This is 1917 – right at the time the United Staes had joined the war in Europe, the Great War, the War to End All Wars, or what we later came to call the First World War. The Unitarians met for their general conference meeting and the topic of supporting the war is put forth for discussion and resolution. The moderator of the conference 1917 is former president of the United States, William Howard Taft. Taft is the most recent of our four Unitarian US presidents, serving from 1909-1913. Taft strongly encouraged the Unitarian conference to support the war effort. Taft gave an opening address at the conferences, calling on the clergy to preach the righteousness of the war, to say it is necessary to preserve a peaceful world, and that we should all get behind President Wilson.

John Haynes Holmes is the young minister of what was then known as Church of the Messiah, NYC – a prominent Unitarian pulpit. Holmes was a strong advocate for justice and the modern social message of religion. He was in the position to bring a report about the perspectives and attitudes of Unitarians toward the war. As a staunch pacifist he called for the clergy to mourn the dead, cry out at the destruction, and seek the path of reconciliation.

Taft did not like Holmes’ report and setting the moderator gavel aside, took the floor to argue against Holmes’ pacifism and propose a motion saying “That it is the sense of this Unitarian Conference that this war must be carried to a successful issue, … that we … approve the measures of President Wilson and Congress to carry on this war.”

In the debate, Holmes rose and said, “I am a pacifist, I am non-resistant, I hate war, and I hate this war; so long as I live and breathe I will have nothing to do with this war or any war, so help me God.” Taft said “Our house is afire and we must put it out, and it is no time for considering whether the firemen are using the best kind of water.” The motion was adopted by a vote of 236 to 9. (Stream of Light, Conrad Wright, ed; p103)

There are times in history when we feel a fervent need to take some communal action, to stand against some evil. It is not a stretch to say many people, myself included, feel we are in just such a moment for our country today. Yet to refuse a space for conscientious dissent feels unimaginable. Everything in me would rebel if there were a resolution from the UUA proclaiming that all of us must agree with this or that policy or proposal or action.

In 1918, the year following the debate between Taft and Holmes, the leadership of the American Unitarian Association issued sanctions against any congregation employing a minister who was not “a willing, earnest, and outspoken supporter of the United States in the vigorous and resolute prosecution of the war.” They withheld all aid to such congregations. Holmes withdrew his fellowship with the Unitarians and the church likewise left the Association, changing its name to Community Church, NYC.  

A decade or so after that war, the Unitarians struck down those sanctions. And as he neared retirement, Holmes was courted by Unitarian leadership to reinstate his fellowship among the Unitarians, which he did. The broader story includes this reconciliation.

In recent years, pro-war UUs are far from the majority. The counter-cultural movements of the ‘60’s became our bread and butter in the following decades – peace, civil rights, equality, diversity – these values and their accompanying justice issues became bedrock cultural aspects of our Unitarian Universalist identity. Holmes’ ministry predated all of that by a few decades.

Over the years I have bumped into people who assumed Unitarian Universalists were always anti-war. One person was aghast to hear a colleague suggest we are not considered one of the Peace Churches.

The Peace Churches are denominations such as the Brethren, the Quackers, the Amish and the Mennonites who have historically held a biblical commitment to non-resistance and pacifism as a core tenet of their faith. I am reminded of James Baldwin’s quip, “If one believes in the Prince of Peace one must stop committing crimes in the name of the Prince of Peace.”

Unitarians have, in more recent times, shifted to a more anti-war stance, a more reconciling perspective. In recent conflicts, for example, the UUA has been very supportive of Ukraine’s resistance to Russian aggression but was noncommittal for several month when talking about the war in Gaza. The UUA has been nuanced and cautious about asserting a stance – perhaps as a reflection of the experience of Holmes, but I doubt it. I don’t think the story of John Haynes Holmes’ pacifism and refusal to toe the line with conformity take up much space in how we remember our history. It is not a story we tell very loudly among ourselves.

I will note that throughout our early history, Unitarians in particular have been in the thick of the establishment of our government. Many of the ‘founding fathers’ of the United States have some Unitarian connections. We were owners of business and leading academics in the early formation of our nation. We were influencers. We were the establishment.

The past hundred years, however, has seen a pivot away from Unitarians holding significant political influence. We have – most notably during the 60’s and onward – shifted toward being a voice of resistance. And circling back to Holmes I would credit his ministry as having an indirect impact on our progress as a religious tradition.

I would not say we have become anti-establishment, however. I think we’ve grown into a faith community that is not simply against something, we are working to establish a kind of community that serves the needs of all people through our values. I would not say Holmes’ greatest attribute was his pacifism. Yes, his stance against the war precipitated his withdrawal from the Unitarian Association. But that particular stance was grounded in a broader vision for what could be when we set militarism aside.

In one of his 1917 sermons he said “War and democracy are incompatible.” He spoke about how the mindset of war tramples the values we are wanting to protect by going the war. While we may not be actively at war in the way we were in 1917, it is not hard to see how great an impact militarism has had on the erosion of our democracy. Can you see how the state’s use of force has eroded our freedom? It is this broader vision of what could be that lead me to want to learn more about Holmes.

It was not just his radical pacifism; his vision of ministry and of the nature of religion was also radical for the time. He was far from the only Unitarian minister calling for a modernization of our theology – indeed the Humanist movement of the 1930’s may have been influenced by Holmes’ writings. The part I found more prescient for our current situation is his call for “a religion that moved from concentration on the individual and focused instead on the social nature of every individual.” (Unitarian Universalism, a narrative history, by David Bumbaugh; p137)

Our current Unitarian Universalist conversations about collective liberation and Beloved Community are fed by indigenous perspectives as well as from people like Holmes who swim counterwise from within the dominant stream of our history. His non-conformity was not a simple one-sided complaint against one specific aspect of evil. Holmes offered a wholistic vision of a better world.

Witness his fuller story. He was approached by W.E.B. Debois to join in the creation of the NAACP – one of about 60 people who are never listed among the founders. Holmes was committed to integration and the rights of people of color. Later he was part of forming the American Civil Liberties Union. In both cases, his name is not at the center. If you look up the history of the founding of the NAACP, you will not find his name among the founders – because he was not front and center, he was in a supportive role as a partner and ally.

I highlight his non-conformity, his refusal to set aside his conscience. But his ministry cannot be reduced to one issue or one fight against the establishment. He was a builder of new possibilities. In this way, he is a role model to me. He heeded the promptings of the spirit, lived within his integrity, insisting not that everyone agree with him but that everyone be free to agree with their own conscience.

I’ve never been what you might call an activist preacher. I can preach a good justice sermon, but my calling has always been to build that certain sort of community where all souls shall grown strong and together we move toward a more Beloved world. Holmes did that too.

And I see it in many of you. And together we can bring more peace, more grace, move love each day. And God help us – together we can make this place beautiful.

In a world without end,

may it be so

Listening for the Healing Shift

Douglas Taylor

10-6-24

Sermon video: https://youtu.be/j4xqvhi_vhE

It has been a long-standing practice for me to bring a sermon on the topic of forgiveness during the Jewish high holy days each year. My internship supervisor modeled this practice for me saying, ‘they always need it.’ Some years I focus on a piece of Jewish lore around the holidays, other years I outline the steps for making or accepting an authentic apology. I’ve preached on forgiveness from Buddhist and Christian perspectives, I’ve reflected on scientific studies on the how forgiveness effects our health. I’ve grappled with large scale forgiveness practices such as the Truth and Reconciliation process. And this year is not the first year I have devoted a multi-generational service on Forgiveness.

Today, I bring not a full sermon, more of a thought to consider as you go through your week – a thought I hope will resonate for you if you are 4 or 24 or 84 years old.

What most of us want is healing.

But we get sidetracked on our way to that. Most of us, to some degree on other, have experiences of brokenness, of mistakes that we’ve made and injuries we’ve suffered. Certainly, we want to repair what is broken, but a part of us also wants to end up being right. We want to fix what has gone wrong, but a part of us also wants to be the hero in the end, to be vindicated, to be justified in our actions – whether we need to forgive or be forgiven, we want to also end up being right.

If we can set that aside and reach back to remember, the true yearning we have is for healing. I was reminded recently that the Hebrew word for peace, “shalom,” conveys not only peace but more accurately wholeness, completeness, and wellbeing.

I will tell you another story.

This one is about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, as told by famous storyteller Doug Lipman. It is called, “Defending His Property.”

…

One day, an innkeeper came to Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev. “Rabbi,” he said. “Is a man permitted to defend his property?”

The rabbi said, “Of course. What needs defending?”

“My inn,” said the man. “So you’ll give me your blessing?”

“That depends. Who are you defending it against?”

“Rabbi, the local peasant boys break into my kitchen at night, to steal the food that I keep for my customers.”

“I see,” said Rabbi Levi Yitzchak. “And how do you plan to defend yourself from them?”

“Rabbi, I’ve been at my wit’s end. I’ve yelled at them when I saw them running off with my food. I even bought a guard dog. But they fed it! When I got up in the morning, the dog was eating the stolen meat they gave it. So I got rid of the useless dog. But now, I have no choice. I’m off to the city to buy a rifle. Please give me your blessing on my journey!”

The rabbi stroked his beard, thoughtfully. “The loss to you is serious. These boys seem determined to steal. But how will the rifle protect your property?”

“I’ll fire it into the air; they’ll hear it. And if I see one of them on my property, I’ll point it at him. Nothing else will work with these ruffians, Rabbi. They only understand force!”

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak looked down for a moment. Then he spoke. “I can’t bless this journey. Do you think that peasant boys can’t get rifles, too—even more easily than Jews can? I’m afraid you’re only encouraging them to become even more clever and violent.”

The innkeeper’s face grew red. “Then I’ll go—without your blessing! A man has to defend his property!” He slammed the door behind him as he left.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak watched the man climb onto his wagon, pick up the reins, and begin to drive off. Suddenly, the rabbi ran out into the street and yelled, “Wait! I’ve changed my mind!”

The man stopped his horse, dismounted from the wagon, tied his horse to a tree, and returned to the rabbi.

The rabbi said, “I MAY give you my blessing—will you submit to a brief test?”

“What kind of a test?”

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak raised his arm and slapped the man on the face.

The man was incensed. “Why did you do that, Rabbi? You don’t have to hit me!”

The rabbi beamed. “Ah! In that case, I owe you an apology.”

The innkeeper rubbed his cheek.

Gently, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak put his hand on the man’s chest. “You see, for a moment, I thought that YOU only understand force. But I was mistaken. You—the one who understands that violence isn’t always necessary when talking is possible, who would never point a gun at a child —you, I give my blessing to.”

The man put his hand over Rabbi Levi Yitzchak’s hand, which still touched his chest. His face softened. “Thank you, Rabbi. I think I might have been a little mistaken, myself.”

The man got on his wagon, and turned it around toward home.

Later that evening, when the moonless night provided a perfect cover for thieves and mischief-makers, the innkeeper heard a noise outside his inn.

Opening the door, he saw someone standing twenty paces from the inn, with a cloth sack at his side. “A thief,” he thought. He strode toward the intruder. As he got closer, he saw that the thief was facing away from him. “Who are you,” he said. “Get out of here!”

The figure turned to face him. The man gasped. “Rabbi! What are you doing here?”

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak said, “A man has to defend his property! So I came to help you, by standing guard.” He lifted the sack, and showed the innkeeper the bread and cheese inside. “When the boys come, perhaps I can feed them and talk to them, the way they tamed your dog.”

Speechless, the innkeeper just looked at the rabbi.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak put his arm on the man’s shoulder. “But while I was standing here, I noticed what a beautiful night it is. Don’t you think?”

For a long time, the two stood there, looking at the vast night sky.

 
“Defending His Property.” Lipman, Doug. © 2002. https://www.learningtogive.org/resources/defending-his-property

—

In the end, the innkeeper learns some important lessons that we also can learn. I thought up three.

First, that violence is called up too readily, not as a last resort, that other methods are possible when we consider not merely the right and wrong of a situation but the wholeness and healing we yearn to experience. Do not limit yourself to seeking your own satisfaction or even your own healing. Instead of only asking – what do I want to resolve this situation, ask – what do all those involved want to resolve this situation. Consider the full view if possible. Healing is not an individual activity – it is done in community. We need each other to all grow more whole.

Second, you can always call your local clergy person for counsel – your rabbi, your pastor, your sangha leader perhaps, … me. I can’t promise to stand outside your backdoor with a loaf of bread and some cheese to befriend your local hooligans. But I also can’t promise to slap you on the face when I think you are being foolish. I’m no Rabbi Levi Yitzchak! But I can listen and help uncover a possible path toward healing.

And finally, the third great lesson I found in this story: when we make space for healing, we also can discover an opening for other experiences such as beauty and joy, peace and friendship. Remembering that Shalom is about wholeness as much as it is about peace – wholeness is found in the healing, in the beauty and joy and friendship.    

In a world without end,

May it be so.