This morning, I attended my first service at the Lincoln Unitarian Church. This particular gathering was centered around a water communion ritual. A ceremony of renewal and oneness.

I suppose a bit of background is in order. The idea of the Unitarian church came back to the forefront of my mind when I rode past it a couple of weeks ago during one of my treks through the city. The part that caused me to take notice, before I had even realized it was a Unitarian Church, was the little saying they had on the sign out front. (You know, like church signs.)

At this point, I don't even remember was printed on it then, but whatever it was, it was totally NOT like the typical blather that usually populates such things. It was actually quite profound. So it's hilarious that I can't even remember what it said now, but it did cause me to look closer, and note that the church was Unitarian, at which point I said, "Aha!"

Last week, I got into a conversation about it with Yanthor, which prompted me to take a look around their website and research a bit more.

This Sunday, a coworker had already asked to trade shifts with me, so I decided this was as good an opportunity as ever to see what one of their services is like.

I was uncertain whether I should dress up (since it's a more liberal church, I suspected they would probably be more casual, but I wasn't certain how much), so I decided to "halfway" dress up. When I arrived, I noticed that clothing of other people in attendance ran the gamut. I think the only person wearing a suit was the minister. Some had dressed up more than what you'd usually see of people walking down the street, while others wore jeans or shorts. The guy sitting a chair away in the same row where I sat down wore cutoffs and a white t-shirt.

As I drove up (giving Tobias a rare bit of exercise), I noticed that many of the cars in the parking lot had "Nebraskans for Peace" bumper stickers, one had "Stop Factory Farming", and another car featured a bunch of insignia from the local rock station. Yep, definitely the right place.

The officially designated greeter at the door welcomed me, and suggested I make a nametag. Almost everyone was wearing one. Members had permanent ones, while guests could write their name on a sticker. She suggested I might look over some of the introductory pamphlets at the newcomer table, so I went over, met the "newcomer welcoming committee", and took several of the pamphlets that looked interesting.

I found a seat not too far from the front, and within moments, the service got underway.

The minister welcomed everybody, and the choir stood up and opened with a song, consisting of the same phrases repeated to a tune: "Who are we? Where do we come from? Who are we? Where do we come from?" After they had repeated it a couple of times, the director motioned for everyone else to join in. Soon the whole congregation was singing these words. Then the choir went into harmonizing with different words. (I didn't catch most of them, but the I did hear the word "mystery" slowly over several measures.)

The song came to a close, and the minister lit the candles at the front.

Structurally, the service was somewhat similar to the Christian services I grew up with. There readings from various spiritual traditions, interspersed with singing hymms from the hymnal. They quoted from the Quaron, as well as the Bhavagad Gita. Unlike the strictly Christian hymns with which I grew up, these did not make much mention of a particular deity, but instead expressed reverence toward life, renewal, and the spiritual mystery of the universe.

Since one of them (the closing hymn) was actually printed in the bulletin, I'll type the stanzas to give people a feel for it. From the song "Blue Boat Home":

Rather than a sermon, today the central portion of the service consisted of a water communion. (I gathered that usually, the minister does preach, but not today.)

For the communion, people had brought small containers of water in with them. For those who hadn't brought their own water (such as me), there was a communal vase filled with water and a dipper to use instead.

At the front, there was a large bowl where everybody would take turns putting their water in. There would be four groups: East, West, North, and South. The minister explained that everyone could select which group they would be a part of using whatever criteria they prefered. You could say that you came from the East, if you had moved to Lincoln from the direction of the Altantic Ocean. Or, if you wanted to use the place where you arose that morning instead, and it happened to be west of the church, you could say you came from the West. Or, one could also be metaphorical about it, and say they came from the East because of a new awakening, or some such idea. Everyone could choose their own way.

As each person placed their water into the bowl, they would say, "From ______, I bring _____." Filling the blanks with whatever words they felt appropriate.

The minister opened the ceremony by pouring in a little bit of water kept from last year's ceremony.

The people from the East went first, followed by South, West, and North. Each group in turn lined up to the right of the platform, and took turns pouring in water, and making a brief statement about it. Some said their water came from as far as rivers in Europe. One family said, "From Florida, we bring water that we gathered on our vacation."

Others were more abstract about it, using their water to bring "renewal", or "peace", or "hope".

Some were as simple as, "From my refrigerator, I bring water of sunlight and rebirth."

I contemplated whether to participate, and tried to think of what I might say if I did. I decided that if I were going to do it, I would definitely be coming from the West. But what to say? I had a little time to think about it while the East and South people put in their water.

I decided to go ahead and be a part of it, and joined the West group. Several others from that group also happened to be from Colorado. When my turn came, I walked up to the platform, dipped from the communal pitcher, and said, "From Boulder Colorado, I bring hope for new opportunities and challenges."

In between the groups from different directions, we would sing slight variations on a song:

After all the water was poured in, the minister took a small portion of it into a container to save and use in next year's communion, and used the rest to water the indoor tree growing at the front of the church.

All in all, I found the ceremony fascinating, inspiring, poetic, and also informative, in the sense that each person's statement with their water allowed me to learn a little bit about them. (Afterward, I also got several queries about my Colorado origins.)

In the lobby, coffee and tea was served, and people could mingle and talk. I chatted briefly with several about the service, the classes they offered, and other random stuff. One older woman introduced herself and her "partner". (The Unitarian church is explicitly welcoming of gays and lesbians, which is made very clear in the literature.) She just recently became a member, and shared how she really likes the open and loving environment it provides.

I was looking at the bulletin board of classes, and noticed that they also had several Buddhist classes coming up, as well as humanist religion philosophy courses, and one about "radical love and the revolutionary Jesus".

Thoughts:

If there exists a church that's conpatible with my spriritual style, this is likely to be it, especially in Lincoln. I find myself tempted to ask the boss about making an adjustment to my regular work schedule so I can attend on Sunday mornings. I'll think about it for a day or two first though.

The question to ponder: Do I need/want to be a part of any church or spiritual group? If so, why?

A tentative answer, at this point is my life, is yes. Reason: While it's a journey that can be taken alone, sometimes it's good to have spiritual companions along the way.

Also, the sense of inspired fulfillment I had as I left today is something I haven't felt in quite a while.

I'll be giving it more thought in the coming days.