Photo: Larry D. Moore [CC BY-SA 3.0]
Hi. My name is Rosa Eberly, and I am at UBC because my spouse is the organist.
(Step back and turn around, looking up at Keith at the organ in the choir loft)
In fact, as anyone who knows me at all will attest, that is not the reason I joined UBC -- though it is a joy every week to watch the back of his head.
There are very very few things I do for convention's sake. And in that, as in many other things, I identify with the collection of rare, strong-minded, shy-but-gregarious souls who work to be the body of Christ in this unique place called University Baptist Church.
Larry called me a few days ago and asked me to talk about what UBC means to me. He asked me to tell you -- all of you, but particularly you visitors who might be mulling over whether church in general is for you or whether this church in particular is for you -- why I chose to become a member of UBC.
And, although my thesis came immediately to mind, this assignment gave me an advanced case of writer's block.
This might not strike you as uncommon. But for me -- a Professor of Rhetoric and Composition at UT, one who has taught audiences from first-year students to grad students how to write better and Professors teaching Plan II classes how to teach writing better, and one who spends the better part of each day writing and evaluating writing -- writer's block is fairly uncommon and serious business. I am used to being able to, as my grad students say, crank it out.
Why did Larry's question so undo me? It has to do with my path to University Baptist Church and my need to interrogate all my habitual skepticisms about the contemporary institutional church, about human nature, about what I or we can know beyond what we can observe empirically. Most nagging is the skepticism that "church" as an institution in this country and world at this time very often does not allow any room for making the world a better place -- not just for those inside the church but for those on its steps as well. So I spent the last few days revisiting those skepticisms. Thanks, Larry.
And -- you know what? UBC remains a miracle.
I had a nagging sense that UBC was a miracle from the first Sunday I attended. Right below the top of the bulletin was a quote from Nietzsche. That was something I had not seen before.
Then, a few weeks later, there was Larry's sermon that used a short story by Flannery O'Connor to make a point about faith.
Then there was my first visit to a Wednesday night church conference, where the people of this church reasoned together honestly and carefully, deliberating their common future and celebrating their common values. I saw radical democracy at work in this church.
I risk becoming way too unblocked and recounting anecdotes, people and things I love about UBC. Let me move, then, from induction to deduction and merely say that, week in and week out, the words that come from this pulpit enable me to feel sane in a world that often makes me feel crazy. And that, week in and week out, I am dumbfounded by the love I have for this collection of people God has led me to be a part of.
What finally, if you will, unblocked me in writing this?
An article in yesterday's Dallas Morning News, of all things. Called "Of Beakers and Beliefs," the article told the story of a recent conference on science and religion at Syracuse University. Among the scholars it quoted was Dr. Angela Hegarty, a forensic Psychiatrist at Bellevue and a professor at New York University.
Dr. Hegarty, according to the article, "offered a theory linking religion and psychology that sparked spirited discussion. The mind, she said, depends on networks of neurons in the brain. New ideas need new networks. 'It's a miracle, in a way, that we ever learn anything new,' Dr. Hegarty beamed to the conference…" (Weiss).
She added that different conditions result in different kinds of brains: Again, quoting the article, "The brain can either adapt or not. Religious fundamentalists, with their strict adherence to old rules, may be trying to protect their brains by rejecting the overstimulation of a changing reality, Dr. Hegarty said."
Ah. So: There I was, finally unblocked:
University Baptist Church. We don't try to protect our brains. God knows.
What University Baptist Church means to me is that miracles can still exist. It is a miracle that I am in church at all. It is a particularly ironic miracle that I am in a Baptist Church. It is the greatest blessing I have received in the four years that I have lived and worked in Austin that I am surrounded by and cared for by the people who work together to be the body of Christ in this place -- incredibly intelligent and caring people who, by and large, have the same questions and doubts that I do. But who don't let their doubts paralyze them. We are pragmatic Christians here: we know there are theoretical and epistemological and doctrinal issues that need to be settled . . . sometime soon. Meanwhile, as we deliberate about those issues, we attempt, by the grace of God, to be the body of Christ to those in need, those in pain, those who are and have been excluded.
I am here, by the grace of God, to help be and help build the body of Christ at the corner of 22d and Guadalupe. I am here as a mere flawed human in my particularity to help build a corporate and public entity: University Baptist Church, a church with a long history of deep and progressive association with the University of Texas at Austin.
Does belonging to UBC keep my doubts at bay? No, but as the organist will tell you, nothing does. I revisit those skepticisms, about the church and about everything else, every day of my life. But you know what? UBC holds up. University Baptist Church delivers, by the grace of God, every time.
This is a brave church. These are brave people sitting around you. Yet they are full of the gift of the comforter. This is a place where needs are met and strengths are used and celebrated.
I join the other members of UBC in offering you a warm and serious welcome. And, of course, in asking you a few questions:
Why are you here?
What are you looking for?
