#10 Accotink Unitarian Universalist Church

One of my all time favorite movies is The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. It is an independent film, a spoof on old sci fi movies; I have it on my iPod and have possibly seen it 4,000 times. There is a part in the movie where Paul, the geek-turned-hero, confidently claims to his woman, "Betty, I'm a scientist. I don't believe in anything." This line is what popped into my head this morning when I told my Mom that Rachel and I were going to a Unitarian Church and she said, "Oh...you know they don't believe in Jesus, don't you?" I did. I wanted to know what their motivation was. From the little I knew, Unitarian Universalists were an organized religion, but without the religion part. Terrifying? Yes. Was I excited? Oh yes.

During this month long break, Rachel and I have managed to master directional skills and GPS understanding. You believed that? You must not be a scientist. We almost went to the Buddhist Temple on the street right before the Unitarian Church. Best we didn't, I suppose, I probably would have said something intelligent. "Oh look at the feng shui. I love that brand of noodle."

When we walked into the Unitarian Church we were greeted and given name tags. They tried a couple times to get us to write down our addresses, but I think we mumbled something like, "Oh perhaps after, thank you." I did wonder if Unitarian people delivered food. I confess I still think about that Methodist poppy seed bread late at night sometimes.

We took our seats while worship (worshiping who?) was going on. Then an old man and a guy who looked like Dwight from The Office started telling a story about dogs. They were talking all animated and over-emphasizing things. I finally realized that they were talking to kids up there - it was yet another children's time. This lesson wins trippy-est. It was about how this dog family barked at the moon and had a long, grand, howl at the end. The reason they did this was to give thanks to all the beings in the world and to the universe. Then Dwight proceeded to lead the children in a chorus of dog barks. He exclaimed that "Pentecostals aren't the only ones who bark." I am sharing this with you because everybody laughed. Personally, I can't figure it out. While the Romulus and Remus children left for Children's Church and the congregation sang a hymn thing called "Go Now in Peace," I admired the decor. The building was actually decorated freakishly similar to my bedroom. There were pictures of impressive natural landscapes, quotes, and art and objects from an assortment of countries randomly placed around. It had the whole "Man I wish I had actually been to even one of these places and haven't mostly just sat in this room reading National Geographic all the time" look. Not to be specific or anything.

Next we were invited into a musical deepening. In those precise words. We were told to close our eyes for improvisational singing, to just find a note and hold it. Apparently by doing this we would create a flow and bring our individual nervous systems into sync. My system was nervous, I can tell you that. When the, uh, deepening, began I did not offer any special note of my own, however I closed my eyes and listened. It was an interesting sound. It made me think of when I did musical theater and we were warming up, everybody on a different note and creating a hum that should not be legal in this dimension. Still, A Plus for guts, people! Once we were supposedly in sync Dwight came up and read a poem by T.S Eliot and instructed us to breathe deeply and gently. Then he said something about the fire and the rose being one. He prayed to "The spirit of life and love, known in many ways by many names." I don't remember the prayer; I was still stuck on that flaming rose thing. Talk about lethal. So much for peace be with you.

Rachel scribbled me a note saying she had an Atheist friend who thought Christianity was just something parents invented to make their kids behave, and that's what this seemed like. I guess this place just gives people a sense of belonging. It is a way for them to fill the hole humans have had in their soul since the fall of mankind in the Garden of Eden. What really binds these people together? I just can't grasp that the desire to be "good" is enough. What about the motive behind that? They want to turn the world around. Why? What about when the supposed flow they work so hard to achieve dries up for no reason? We all fail. Bad things happen because there is sin in the world. When bad things happen do these people blame themselves? I suppose this particular way to attempt to fill that missing piece is better then drugs and such, though the ideas are essentially the same - people trying to fill something missing from their hearts. All the poetry and good intentions were nice, but it's empty babble without Jesus in your heart, cliché as that sounds.

While those thoughts danced about in my mind, the congregation had candle lighting time. A person would come up and light a candle, then state their joy or sorrow. Rachel pointed out that instead of saying "Pray for me" they would say "cross your fingers." Hmm. Next came more singing which included a tambourine, much to my delight. The song was called "Jazz Alleluia." Dwight then told us to prepare our minds for the sermon, "Form, Function, and Flow." Too bad I left my granola and yoga mat at home.

Dwight's sermon was NOT based on a particular passage of scripture, so it was hard to gather what the core of it was. He did recite a poem, a passage from Psalms, and a quote from some guy named Wahhabi Sabi. I think Rachel giggled every time he said that name. Which of course made me smirk and start to doodle a vicious Wahhabi Sabi bird creature in my notebook, until I realized the guy next to me was peeking at my notes. He would continue to do this throughout the sermon. Eh, he was undoubtedly entertained; we'll leave it at that.

I wrote SERMON at the top of my page and Rachel grabbed my pen and changed it to "SERMON." Good point my friend. The Wahhabi Sabi guy (Are we sure Dr. Seuss didn't make him up?) claims that we can never know the complete state of a thing. He says we'll never know when a plant is whole, if it is complete as a seed, flower, or pod. This was an interesting thing to ponder. But then he stated that everything begins from nothing and is heading toward nothing. Stop and think about that. We came from nowhere and are going nowhere? After lots of deep emotional pondering, I have personally concluded...that sucks. If that's the way it is, I hope I'm reincarnated into an ostrich. Then I can just stick my head in the ground forever. Because if that's how it is, what's the point? Why bother?

Dwight's answer to this was beauty. He said that truth comes from observation of nature; a river's perfect flow is the connector between beauty and truth; it restores our lost soul. The only way I can see a river fixing my soul is by drowning myself in it. Really though, I can understand where Dwight is coming from. There is something healing about the natural. Comforting. But I disagree with Dwight about his claim that beauty makes our life worth living. It enhances it greatly, yes, but it's not "the plank amid the wares," as Dwight put it. I think beautiful, natural, wonders are a gift and a mere glimpse of what’s to come. And anyway, some people think Paris Hilton is gorgeous. She's your life saver? The woman wants to invent echo friendly Hummers! But I shouldn't judge. I'm disrupting the flow. Now instead of an ostrich I'll get reincarnated into one of Paris Hilton's pink purse dwelling Chihuahuas.

The "sermon" ended and everyone was reminded about the Drum Circle event happening in the evening, that it was a wonderful embodied experience opportunity. MY body was ready to leave. I had practically licked the coffee cup clean and observed enough for the morning. People are so silly. I saw a woman with a shirt covered in polka dotted Koalas and was of course extremely envious. Also I saw a lady with a pink shirt and skirt, pink dragonfly clip, and a pink FUZZY phone which she kept pulling out of her shirt and playing with. At least I hope it was a phone. I love people, from a distance. However Gandhi/Rachel insisted on making friends. One of these days I'm searching her purse for really-nice-person-pills from Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. She asked me if I wanted to go meet someone. Want? No ma'am. Would I? Yes, as a dedicated, serious journalist with a few regular followers. (Hey, little sibling and boyfriend count.)

We ended up talking to several people, who were all genuinely friendly. Well, except for the old man at the end who gave me the heebie jeebies. Ha, that word is almost as funny as Wahhabi Sabi. We met Dwight as well and he told us how his wife was also a Unitarian pastor person (don't remember the exact title) but at a different church. I found that interesting, and asked if they taught the same things and worked on sermons together. He laughed and said not at all, because they were completely different personalities. Again, interesting...

In The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra the evil villain Roger gangs up with these aliens. Roger breaks his side of the deal and cheats the aliens out of what they were after. The aliens are frustrated and exclaim, "Why, Earth sharing isn't at all like Marvan sharing! More...disgusting I think." No matter what all the characters claim, their motives are for their own gain, comfort, and desire. Later the aliens befriend Paul and Betty, the good scientist and his wife. Their common connector is a rock, basically the rock that will save their lives. Do you see where this is going? It doesn't take a scientist (or alien) to figure it out. Jesus is our rock, the solid thing that binds Christians together. Plus, I just really wanted to write an allegory about deeper Christian meaning in a fiction story. The Lord of the Rings and Chronicles of Narnia have already been taken.

In the very end of The Lost Skeleton of Cadevera, Paul, Betty, and the aliens are standing on a hill overlooking the world and dramatic music is playing and the alien named Crowbar says, “You know, it's funny, but when the kind of understanding you and I have over a rock spreads throughout the universe, then, and only then, will there be understanding amongst all peoples, alien and alike. In all kinds of places, at the same time." And then they all shrug, and walk away and carry on with their lives.

I'll leave you to look for more hidden Biblical references that aren't intentionally there while I go work on another allegory. This one is called, "A Deeper Look at The Beverly Hills Chihuahuas." Staring Paris Hilton of course, who gets defeated by a caffeinated ostrich in a polka dotted koala shirt.