Rev. Jason Cook

My Theology

 

My call to ministry emerges from the theological imperative to “Love one another,” an ostensibly simple precept that is extremely difficult to actualize. Our Unitarian Universalist principles serve as a guide on how to love one another more fully, a process that includes working toward justice and aiding each other in finding truth and meaning. Thus, loving one another is something that must be done in community alongside awareness of the universe as a whole. Moreover, within that recognition of the mystery and vastness of the universe, there is room for human endeavor, scientific theory, and the possibility of the divine, even if that is a construct of our creative selves (which makes it no less rich, in my opinion).

 

These ideas are influenced by John Dietrich’s classic work on Religious Humanism, which at its core celebrates the diversity of human beings and the potential that can be met through loving, reciprocal relationships. While emphasizing human empowerment and our collective responsibilities, Dietrich also concedes that Religious Humanism has room for exploration into the nature of the divine. If God exists, we can see God not as a separate being but at work in the best actions of human beings. We have the power to improve life for one another, and through this we find our sole salvation here on earth by the knowledge that we have made our best effort to live out our positive human potential. I leave some room in my theology for mystery and the unknown, but I do not use the term “Mystic Humanist” to describe myself, as I feel that any full understanding of humanity includes acknowledgment of the mystery that inevitably emerges when engaging with the larger questions of existence. I also fully embrace the emotional component that comes with being human.

 

The notion of working to be our best selves is arguably the main reason we build community as Unitarian Universalists. Despite our diverse theologies, consistent within Unitarian Universalism is the core belief that we as a human race can do better if we come together with intention and determination. As a minister, my role is to help congregants move toward their better selves, inspiring them to act on their higher impulses in recognition of their human solidarity. This fulfillment of human potential for the betterment of our lives here in this world is the goal of my personal theology, a theology born out of a desire to help all people recognize their own and each other’s inherent worth.

 

Growing up gay in a profoundly hostile and isolating environment, I spent many years feeling as if I had little worth. I know therefore what it is like to feel myself a failure as a human being, unable to meet the expectations of the surrounding culture and people. Likewise, I know what it is like to have people speak and behave as if my existence were a profound mistake. During this time, the children’s classic Anne of Green Gables, a book touted by everyone from Mark Twain to Margaret Atwood, became a sacred text for me, a foundation for the love of the transformative power of stories and storytelling that now informs my ministerial call. Anne of Green Gables is the story of an elderly brother and sister who request a boy from a local orphanage, only to find on their doorstep a gawky orphan girl with a propensity for seeing beauty in unlikely places and an understandably desperate need for recognition. Anne Shirley is unwanted in virtually every way, from her hair color to her gender, but she nevertheless remains her authentic self, enriching the lives of those who reluctantly come into contact with her. By making herself open and vulnerable enough to love the wounded souls who surround her, she is eventually loved in return by those who her love has healed. As a result, Anne moves toward her full potential as a human being, most notably when she wins a scholarship but ultimately turns it down to care for those in need. Love has taught her that she can fulfill her dreams, but through that love, her dreams of childhood have grown broader in scope, with the improvement of life for others having replaced her self-centered desire for recognition.

 

For outcasts like Anne Shirley or my juvenile self, Religious Humanism with its celebration of diverse humankind offers a healing and hopeful response through the positioning of human solidarity as the foundation for creating a better world. A religious message that embraces the healing sacredness of human unity is a message I feel called to help disseminate amongst those many people entrapped in the deep pain engendered from the rejection of their differences, whether they be differences of sexual orientation, physical abilities, age, mental health, gender, economic class, or skin color. Within my call to ministry came the recognition that my love of stories and storytelling could have a greater purpose: to call diverse people to come together in recognition of the power of our shared humanity in working for justice.

 

I felt the vast scope of this human power a few years ago, when my mother-in-law was enduring a prolonged death from cancer. As happens in many families, it was also a time of confluence; relationship, economic, psychological, practical, and spiritual issues intersected in a Gordian knot, each day presenting new rawness and pain. At one point, I found myself amidst my worst nightmare: during the day, I was the sole caretaker of a loved one in constant pain who could no longer perform even the most intimate acts alone. I remember thinking that I would inevitably crumble from this experience. Yet, with each new challenge, I inexplicably found the strength within myself to carry on. One day as I sat at her bedside, I found myself wondering where this mystifying strength came from. I looked at my mother-in-law, misshapen by tumors and racked with pain, and without warning, she flashed me a loving, radiant smile. In her, I saw that same mysterious, miraculous strength I had seen in myself. With sudden clarity I realized this strength was not an anomaly at all; it was simply the manifestation of the almost incomprehensible power we all have as human beings, power ignited by loving connections. Flooded with a deep sense of gratitude for both our bodies and the universe that allow for the fathomless depths of this well of strength, I was simultaneously awash with the recognition that I felt called to spread this message of the potential of human empowerment forged through service to each other.

 

Another component to this profound experience was the realization that our power comes from a place of vulnerability common to the human condition. It was not inconsequential that it was when both my mother-in-law and I were in our most vulnerable places that this recognition of human strength occurred. Like orphaned Anne Shirley who risked the possibility of rejection to love those who did not initially want to love her, only by opening ourselves to being vulnerable can we truly love and be loved in return. One of my favorite biblical parables, that of the Good Samaritan, suggests that our best selves can be found when we recognize our solidarity and power to serve each other. The parable’s inclusion of the Samaritan as the hero of the story defies audience expectation, forcing the intended ancient audience to emotionally occupy the uncomfortable space of the victim receiving aid from an enemy, since they would be loath to identify with the despised Samaritan. For the contemporary reader living in a culture shaped by an ethic of control, the parable beckons us to be vulnerable enough to accept help, and in so doing we can find new ways to work in powerful solidarity. We can find this sacred strength when we look where there is vulnerability because that is where, paradoxically, the most powerful moments of our existence take place, as seen by my experience with my dying mother-in-law. Like Anne of Green Gables, the Good Samaritan parable offers us an invitation to be both helper and helped, savior and saved, and this Christian ethic has been integral to my formation as a loving human being.

 

To come full circle then, my ministry is grounded in a theology of loving one another, an active process requiring intentional work to see beyond differences into shared humanity. As a minister, I am called to lead others in learning to love each other deeply and thoroughly with all the vulnerability that this requires. I am called to affirm the deep, resilient power we share to effect positive change in the world. I am called to help others find strength in our simultaneously powerful and frail humanity--a place where others often simply see weakness, but where I see the spark of hope lighting the way toward justice.