Power and Authority

 sermon by Rev. Alan Taylor

delivered September 24, 2000

Woodinville Unitarian Universalist Church

All I wanted was a banana. I had hardly eaten anything for five days, and my host would simply repeat “The doctor didn’t say you can have them.” I had just enough energy to reply, “The doctor said I can eat fruit such as apples and oranges, and that doesn’t exclude bananas.” She responded, “I won’t give you anything the doctor didn’t specify.” It was a long two days before I saw the doctor again, who said that I could have a banana!

Now I don’t want to sound disrespectful of my hosts, because they likely saved my life. I was traveling in India, nearly ten years ago. I fell ill the night I had reached the city of Ahmedbad. I was visiting the parents of my dear college friend, Viru Gupte, who some of you met on the evening of my ordination. As my health declined, Mr. and Mrs. Gupte took me to see a doctor. When I was too ill to return to the doctor’s, the Gupte’s had the doctor come to the apartment. The doctor asked me some questions and took several tests.

I didn’t know it at the time, because the doctor and Mr. Gupte were speaking in Hindi, but Mr. Gupte requested that a typhoid fever test be taken. The doctor said that I didn’t need this test because I had taken the typhoid inoculations before I departed the United States. Mr. Gupte insisted, saying that he was paying for it. Another thing I didn’t know for a long time was that this doctor told my hosts that foreigners often get sick in India, and it was just a part of life that some of them died of their illness. Needless to say, the Guptes immediately got another doctor to attend to me. Well, I did have typhoid, and I ended up convalescing for three weeks. I remember returning to this second doctor’s office when I was better and how appreciative I was that he oversaw my recovery.

When one of us puts ourselves into a doctor’s care, we submit to his or her authority with the trust that he or she knows what will likely return us to good health. The doctor-patient relationship is an example of hierarchical power that most people respect. However, like any hierarchical relationship, it can be distorted by either party. Patients and their care-givers sometimes give doctors too much authority. One example, albeit trivial, was when my hosts wouldn’t give me a banana, following the literal wording of the doctor. Fortunately for me, my hosts didn’t give the first doctor too much authority on much more important issues as they questioned his belief that I didn’t need a test for typhoid fever.

I have given a lot of reflection to the issues of authority and power of late. I have discerned three different kinds of power in our lives: power within, power with, and power over. [Note to reader: I take this distinction from my colleague Peter Morales.] I shall distinguish these kinds of power, but I will focus on the kind of power that makes many people uncomfortable—power over, the power of hierarchy and authority. Finally I will explore what these issues of power and authority have to do with us in religious community.

The first kind of power available to us is power within. Power within has to do with the unique talents and gifts each person is blessed with. Power within also has to do with integrity and dignity. It is not a matter of how much wealth, fame, or status one has; instead, power within develops from the peace of knowing that one has lived honestly and in accordance with one’s deepest values; and it develops from taking the time to pursue one’s own creativity or calling. Power within refers to the honed talents of a musician or artist or a good cook. Power within is the clarity of knowing when to say no to one more activity. Power within is knowing where you stand and it is enjoying making use of your gifts and talents for the benefit of both yourself and others.

Power with is different. It is the power that is possible only in relationship with others. Power with is the power the choir creates when their voices blend in song. Power with is created on the soccer field when we make three perfect passes and then score a goal. Power with happens when on stage when the actors play off each other and create a play that takes on a life of its own. Power with happens in a work group when we put our heads together and create something that is better than what any of us could have done alone. Even here in worship, there is power in our shared laughter, in shared song, in shared silence. Power with allows us to be a part of something larger than ourselves, knowing that our living has purpose and meaning.

Power within and power with are types of power we readily embrace as Unitarian Universalists. I want our congregation to be a place where these kinds of power can flourish. Whether you want to work with others on a project or to develop your own talents or spiritual life, we all benefit when we make way for power within and power with.

Now how about that other kind of power, power over? Power over is the power of hierarchy. This is the kind of power most often associated with authority. It is the power that exists when someone can tell someone else what to do or what not to do. It is the power of the police, of bureaucracy, of the school principal, and of the army sergeant. It is also the power of a good parent, a gifted teacher, a mentor, a physician, a community leader.

Most of us liberals are uneasy with power over. Such power is easily abused. Many of us have suffered from the mistreatment of a parent, a therapist, a teacher, a doctor, or a supervisor. There is good reason to be suspicious of hierarchical power when it is so easily exploited. Women, gays and lesbians, people of color, poor people, they all have known oppression by the patriarchal power structures of our world. However, that doesn’t mean that all relationships that are hierarchical are bad. Think of a teacher or a mentor that made a difference in your life, or a doctor or therapist who enabled you to get healthy. 

In the Unitarian Universalist tradition, we have principles that speak to the inherent worth and dignity of every individual. They also speak of encouraging one another towards spiritual growth and making use of the democratic process. The roots of our Unitarian heritage can be traced along the lines of freedom, reason, and tolerance. Our religious forebears championed the value of freedom to believe what one’s conscience and personal study led one to believe. Indeed, the value of freedom has shaped the entire way we do worship. We uphold the freedom of the pulpit—which means whoever stands here can say anything, as long as they have given thought and reflection to it. As your minister, that means I can preach about any subject and share what I have come to believe and know is true. This freedom gives me the opportunity to challenge you, to say unabashedly what I honestly believe, and to take stands unpopular. However, the freedom doesn’t stop there—there is also the freedom of the pew. (Or in our case, the freedom of the chair.) You are free to hold opinions contrary to mine, to disagree with what I share, and to believe the truth as it is made manifest to you.

Our religious identity was formed on the basis of being suspicious of authority. We are a religion of dissenters. Our roots go back to the Radical Reformation in Europe and extended through the Puritans. Our forebears revolted against the hierarchy of the Catholic, Calvinistic and Lutheran churches. Many of them preferred to die than submit to religious authority. Today it seems like it is no different as our congregational form of governance affirms the right of every congregation to do what it wants. We are free from any denominational leader telling us what to do, and similarly no one can tell us what to believe. We are independent and proud of it. We have reason to be thankful for our heritage and cherish our value of autonomy and independence.

However, I fear we have gone a bit too far. It is my belief that the absence of authority is not freedom; the absence of authority is chaos. If parents don’t have authority within their family, everyone suffers. If a community doesn’t have leaders that are respected, nothing can get accomplished and everyone loses out. And when a nation has no clear leaders, anarchy and power hungry individuals will take control without adequate accountability.

When I first worked with abused children, I wasn’t very effective. For example, getting the kids to and from school or to and from the dinner table was a major production. Sometimes it was a nightmare, children yelling, crying, swearing, threatening, pounding the walls or even pounding each other. I had to establish my authority and made clear my expectations for their behavior. I had to make rules and consequences for breaking rules and then follow through with them. As soon as the kids learned that I held the authority to keep life smooth, they relaxed. The structure freed them up to enjoy the time we had with one another. The chaos I had initially permitted had been oppressive, especially to the weak and timid children in my care.

I believe we make a similar mistake with our youth in this and other congregations. My colleague Peter Morales says, “We give [our youth] a level of freedom that is not appropriate. Too often they flounder, struggling to find enough structure to channel their energies. They need some adult leadership. Not tyranny. Not condescension. But they could use some leadership, some mentoring and some structure. The challenge for us, as a people who seek to live ethically and to let love and compassion rule our actions, is to learn to use power for good.”

Using power for good is our task at hand. Let me share with you when I was the beneficiary of someone using power over for good. It was during my internship at the First Unitarian Church of Worcester. Two weeks before I started, the Assistant Minister unexpectedly resigned. With a hole in the ministerial staff, I was pushed to center stage and obliged to learn fast. The membership included established families of the city as well as plenty of young professionals. The liturgy maintained a number of Christian elements, but the membership included self-professed atheists, Zen Buddhist teachers, several Jews, and even a couple of Muslims. They found me rather casual. The hymns I selected out of the gray hymnal were modern, as they also sang out of the Pilgrim hymnal. I even received a couple comments about how I dressed, that I ought to be more formal—only white pressed shirts were expected in the pulpit.

The Worcester church is one of the great churches architecturally. The sanctuary seats 600 people (or 800 if you go by Midwestern coziness standards.) The pipe organ is priced at nearly a million dollars. The pulpit, elevated five feet from the ground, has a front-piece carved from a beautiful huge piece of mahogany wood, that had a crack in it from the hurricane of 1938 that toppled the huge steeple into the sanctuary. It was the same pulpit that Aaron Bancroft preached from, the founder and first president of the American Unitarian Association, a religious leader that corresponded with both John Adams and Thomas Jefferson about spiritual issues. What could I, a young Californian offer who was still green behind the ears?

If the sanctuary was intimidating, working with Barbara Merritt was even more formidable. As anyone who knows her would say, “She is tough.” Two and a half hours of prayer and meditation every morning before 7am would likely hone any person’s authority over the course of twenty-five years. Not only is Barbara one of the finest preachers in the Association, she is known for her integrity and controversial stands. She is an unapologetic theist who sums up her call to ministry in six words: to bring people closer to God. She speaks truth as she sees it, and she is demanding of herself as well as all those who work with her. It wasn’t a surprise to me when I learned that she is the daughter of an admiral.

I don’t think I have ever worked with anyone who by their sheer presence demanded that I claim my full authority. It wasn’t easy. Claiming one’s own authority is difficult. No one else will do it for you. I was fortunate I had a mentor who constantly expected and trusted that I would consistently rise to the occasion. However, because I was an intern, Barbara was my supervisor, and therefore in a position of power over me. She used her power wisely, for the sake of my growth. She did not abuse it, as she gave me recognition for my successes and held me accountable for my mistakes.

Because Barbara Merritt was willing to wield responsible power over, I benefited tremendously. I could have told a story of an English teacher or how my parents set appropriate boundaries or how a therapist helped me through a difficult time in my life. I might not be walking this earth today if I hadn’t let the Indian doctor treat me for typhoid fever. I wouldn’t be as healthy, as bright, or as prepared to be a minister if there hadn’t been people who used their authority wisely on my behalf.

When have people in authority helped you?

And in what capacities do you have power over others?

And how can you ensure this power is used for good?

First of all, I believe authority should be regarded as temporary. Second, it needs to be held in trust, in other words, it needs to be used to empower others. Authentic authority is not about control; it is not about coercion. It is about empowering others to claim their own authority. It is about recognizing other’s successes and holding them accountable for their mistakes.

So what about the authority of the clergy? As the minister of a Unitarian Universalist church, I am in an unenviable position. I am an authority figure in a religious faith that is suspicious of authority. This may sound like being between a rock and a hard place, and I suppose at times it is! But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want a congregation where people willingly submit to my will and beliefs. Instead I want to be a religious leader where members of my congregation are committed to mutually empowering relationships.

I came to this church because you clearly articulated that you want a spiritual leader that will challenge you in love, a minister that will push you to grow, and a pastor that will undertake the unique responsibilities of the office of ministry. Given what you have called me to do, I wear vestments during worship. The members of this congregation gave me this beautiful stole on the occasion of my ordination and installation. The members of the First Unitarian Church of Worcester gave me this robe when I completed the internship with them. I wear these vestments only when I lead a worship service, so as to help establish the time and space as sacred. For me, they represent the many aspects of the ministry to which I have devoted my life. And finally, I wear them because each is a symbol of authority.

In addition to two people who have talked with me directly, I have received several second-hand comments that some people have a hard time with my robe. I suspect there is a resistance to its formality, (and the stole certainly lightens it up!); perhaps my robe reminds some people of ministers of other traditions who are oppressive in their theology. (In which case, I sincerely hope they can see beyond the robe!) But my guess is that if there is one specific thing some people don’t like about the robe—it is a symbol authority.

Reticence towards the robe denotes resistance to seeing me as separate from the rest of the congregation. The robe sets me apart. I wear it in part because I don’t have the same relationship with you that you can have with one another. The special responsibility I hold in this community is threefold. First, I am responsible for leading worship and preaching sermons which serve to challenge, inspire, and pastor to you. Secondly, I am to be available when your life becomes so overwhelming you don’t know to whom to turn. Similarly I am available when you are struggling with an ethical decision or a major life transition or a crisis that is affecting your life. A part of this role of pastoral counselor is to officiate at weddings and funerals; for these are significant events that call for a sensitive response to the love and changes that these events mark. The third responsibility I have here is to cast and uphold the vision and mission of our church, to oversee the big picture.

These responsibilities, especially those of being a pastor and a challenging preacher, cannot be held without claiming a certain degree of authority. As your minister, my position has as much authority as you are willing to entrust it. The relationship between minister and congregation is a delicate balance that requires trust and integrity on both sides. Just as I have power over when people seek help from me, so you have power over me, as you determine who your minister is. The healthy relationship between a minister and congregation is a partnership. It is like a dance. Sometimes the minister leads and sometimes the congregation leads. So let it be a dance we do!

If there was one thing that I would hope that people would take away from this sermon, it is that we are capable of entering into mutually empowering relationships. We can grow both personally and collectively when each of us can claim our own authority and use responsibly our power within, our power with, and our power over. May it be so.

Blessed be. Amen.