Throughout time, our Unitarian Universalist faith tradition has held a thread of clarity: how we relate to each other creates the conditions of hell or heaven here on earth. We may not know or agree about what lies beyond this life, but it's our conviction that that our actions– and our inactions...

She called to ask if I would baptize her infant son. I said, "What we do is like a baptism, but not exactly. And we normally do it only for people who are part of the church family. The next one we have scheduled is in May." She said, "Could we come to talk with you about it anyway?" They came to...

“It’s hard to know when to respond to the seductiveness of the world and when to respond to its challenge. If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between the desire to improve the world and...

All this talk of saving souls. Souls weren’t made to save, like Sunday clothes that give out at the seams. They’re made for wear; they come with lifetime guarantees. Don’t save your soul. Pour it out like rain on cracked, parched earth. Give your soul away, or pass it like a candle flame. Sing...

By what are you saved?And how? Saved like a bit of string, tucked away in a drawer? Saved like a child rushed from a burning building, already singed and coughing smoke? Or are you salvaged like a car part—the one good door when the rest is wrecked? Do you believe me when I say you are neither...

O Thou, whose kingdom is within, may all thy names be hallowed. May no one of them be turned against the others to divide those who address thee. May thy presence be made known to us in mercy, beauty, love and justice. May thy kingdom come to be in the life of all humankind....

Thou who art the soul and heart of life, save us from fear—the fear of days and nights yet to be, the fear of the known and the unknown, the fear that builds high walls around our spirits and our lives, the fear that closes in and envelops us, the fear that nibbles at the edges of every...

I do not know if the seasons remember their history or if the days and nights by which we count time remember their own passing. I do not know if the oak tree remembers its planting or if the pine remembers its slow climb toward sun and stars. I do not know if the squirrel remembers last fall's...