The author has granted their permission for this sermon to be shared. When you deliver it, you might remind the congregation that all of the “I” language belongs to Rev. Lane-Mairead (MAY-reed) Campbell, who is a community minister in Rochester, New York.

My name is Lane-Mairead. I am an Adult Child of an Alcoholic Family, a Compulsive Overeater, and a grateful member of Al-Anon. I am a person in 12-step recovery. I am also a lifelong Unitarian Universalist who did not feel safe as a child talking with my friends at church about the addiction in my family home.

One of the things about addiction is that it thrives in secret, in isolation. If you don’t tell anyone, it still feels like your addiction might not be real. If it happens in solitude, when the family is asleep or when no one else is around, how can anyone know you have a problem?

The truth is that living with addiction—active addiction—is never easy. The mental gymnastics are exhausting. Going back to one’s substance again and again after swearing it off is heartbreaking. You develop ways to cope; ways of thinking about yourself that are unhealthy:

Well, if only I could stop, everything would be okay.

Perhaps if I deny what is going on, everything will be okay.

I must be to blame for all of the trouble I am causing my loved ones.

I am a bad person because of this addiction.

I am a bad person because someone I love is drinking.

The result: Shame. A deep shame harbored inside.

I believe in universal love that is open and accessible to all. I believe that those who are actively in addiction—who are using this very second—are loved, have inherent worth and dignity, and deserve respect. No one is disposable. And if we truly believe this, no addict is disposable; no one with a drug problem is disposable; no one is outside the circle of love and care. No matter how far their disease has taken them.

This morning, I hope we can explore together one of the main antidotes to the isolation that addiction thrives in: community. I hope we can explore what our community’s role is in providing care for and welcoming those living with addiction, whether it is their own addiction or the addiction of someone we love.

In my experience, living with addiction can be lonely. And it can even be lonely when you are in the company of others. It’s a deep internal aloneness when, in a room full of people, your mind is racing about when you will get that next fix. Or when you are at a gathering with friends and all you can think about are the drinks or the drugs or even the food. Community is essential to recovery from addiction. And community is essential also to those living with active addiction, to know you are welcome here, to know you are accepted.

I reached out to some folks in the congregation I serve who are in recovery from addiction. I asked, “How has Unitarian Universalism supported your recovery?” One common answer was support in finding a power greater than themselves, in seeking spiritual sustenance. One of the beautiful pieces of our shared faith is that the truth of who a higher power is, and our relationship to a higher power is always and ever-changing. This has deeply aided those here who have been in recovery for many years. I think it’s an asset we bring to the recovery community: to be a place for spiritual exploration.

A UU and published author on addiction and recovery puts it this way,

AA’s 12 Step Program is based on a Christian fundamentalist understanding of God, but allows for understanding a God of your choice. So motivated by the idea that I can’t do a number of things on my own and that “I can get by with a little help from my friends,’’ I accepted AA’s help. The “I can do it my way” wasn’t working for me.

John F. Kennedy’s inauguration speech, “God’s work must truly be my own,” reflects my belief that the divine works through humans. The tolerance of Unitarian Universalism for religious diversity made it easier for me to focus on actions needed rather than get hung up on the God word.

I want to highlight the spiritual maturity reflected in those words: The ability to grow in understanding of God. The ability to ask for help and find community. The ability to not get hung up on one word or concept and miss the entirety of what recovery has to offer. The reality for so many that doing things our way was no longer working.

One way Unitarian Universalism can support folks in recovery and who are living with addiction is to rid ourselves of the concept of terminal uniqueness—the notion that everyone is having a different and unique experience all of the time. Community is an essential tool for finding our common ground. If addiction has ravaged your life, if you have been devastated by a loved one’s drinking or drugging or workaholicism, you are absolutely not unique here. You are not alone. It is one of the saving messages of Unitarian Universalism. We are better together. And we are called to live by this belief, to answer this call with vulnerability and empathy, both giving and receiving the gift of connection in community.

A Unitarian Universalist who has been in long term recovery shares,

When I stood at this pulpit, on an Easter Sunday, nearly thirty years ago, I was terrified and full of shame because I had the disease of alcoholism. I thought this congregation would reject me, that I would be shunned, that I would no longer be allowed to be a part of this church community. I was so very wrong.

There are a couple of phrases that are said in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous: “We will love you until you can love yourself” and “You don’t have to go through this alone.” This congregation did just that. They applauded and congratulated me! I got so many hugs that day. I felt loved! And when some of the people who were in the pews told me that they, too, were in recovery, I knew that I was not alone. After nearly thirty years, this congregation continues to love and support me in my recovery. The people in this church are forever on my Gratitude List.

The other question I asked was, “What do you need from this church to talk openly about having an addiction and recovering from an addiction?” I would hope we’re a place that welcomes all, no matter where they are on their journey with addiction. I know that congregations often fall short of this mark, expecting folks to show up a particular way, mainly to have one’s stuff together and to keep a strong face on. I would hope that our church does not encourage folks to keep an addiction a secret. And I know that we’ll likely fall short of this mark and will likely make mistakes around saying the wrong thing or hanging on to judgments about addiction. We are all growing here. And my hope is that when we harbor that judgment, we take note of it, learn from the experience, and grow.

Here’s how another congregation member responded:

In Narcotics Anonymous, we are called upon to have the spiritual principles of honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness. I would say that this is what I most need from my church community: to understand that we can tolerate God talk that does not exactly represent our beliefs, because our recovery means that much to us.

I know many folks who have not pursued recovery because of their aversion to God language. I get it. So many of us in this room are atheists or have grew up with so much patriarchal language being used for a higher power. Perhaps one of the gifts of having so many folks in our church who are in recovery is the gift of knowing that what works for me might not work for you, but we can still be in the same room together and we can even heal together.

I grew up in an alcoholic home. It was the biggest secret of our family. I had experiences of confusion, fear, anger, and worry. And I could have really used my church community being open-minded, honest, and willing enough to be a space I could come to talk about my struggles at home. However, church was where my family went to look good, to be of service, to be active members, and we rarely asked for help. Perhaps some of you here can relate to this. Perhaps not.

We need church community to be a space where people can speak honestly with one another about their experience—whether in recovery, in addiction, or even in relapse. We need church to be a space where we can all remain open-minded in the midst of one another’s struggles, holding love for one another tenderly. And churches and communities fall short of this ask all the time. Sadly, it often means we miss out on a richness of experience, and we miss out on opportunities to reach out for the care we need or even for opportunities to offer care and understanding to others.

May we find and offer welcome here to all living with addiction. May we seek our hearts and know our own stories around addiction and how it has affected our lives. May we release our feelings of terminal uniqueness and replace them with the reality of shared experience. And may we all embrace honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness as a whole community.

Amen. Blessed be. May it be so.