5 Feb, 2009 - Homelessness

There is a quote outside one of the many churches surrounding this area which struck me today. It stated; “Religion [focuses on] the essential homelessness of the human spirit…”

This makes me profoundly uncomfortable. It is certainly true that each one of us suffers some form of homelessness in our lives. Some are physically homeless, perhaps lacking in family comfort, without a shoulder to cry on, or even out on the street, in the doorways, sidewalks and dust of our world. Others, however, are spiritually homeless. Some are both. But I have a sincere problem with both of these.

Firstly, there should not be human creatures starving on the streets, alone and hungry. We have a tendency, as comfortably fed and housed people, to fear those who are not so lucky. We feel uneasy that the comforts we so keenly cling to will no longer be ours if we stop and talk. Not all of these people are quite as decrepit as we sometimes fear - often they are simply people who have ended up down on their luck. No-one should have to suffer in this way. I am saddened that this is the state of the world, and it is my firm belief that as Unitarian Universalists, we have a duty not necessarily towards God, but rather one of social action.

However, my discomfort is primarily with the concept of spiritual homelessness. When I was seeking a faith that would complement my views and provide me with such a wonderful community as I am around today, I indeed felt homeless. I felt as though I was uncomfortable without a religious box; without a dogma, without a creed. When I found a congregation of UU’s that completely clicked with who I was, it did feel as though I had come home. Indeed, I wrote to the minister about two months later, saying:

“I think you might understand when I say I am terrified too. I am not used to having a home, with people who bear the threat of love rather than of hate. I am afraid to give myself a name that I cannot defend, and to leave myself vulnerable to others - afraid of believing… I am so used to having to close the metaphorical door to escape, that here I have found two challenges. I live in a place where that door can never be closed; and I have found a place at UU where it doesn’t need to be.”

But for me, this was not a declaration of having arrived at home - more an expression of having found something more open than that. A place where the door that holds back my fears doesn’t need to be closed, but rather lies open, allowing my fears, but also my hope to balance in the space between. An open door, which allows in the light, but cannot hold back all the darkness. It is this notion of balance that echoes throughout religious teachings across the world. Yin and Yang, Heaven and hell, night and day. And it is this balance that makes UU so special to us all. We do not accept everything we are told blindly, nor do we dismiss it. We consider, hold in the balance, weigh in our hands and gently prod, just to see what happens.

I do not believe that we are homeless, but rather perpetually searching. It was not actual homelessness that I felt, but a fear to question the things which I did not understand. I am sure that many of us have memories of various authority figures telling us that “that’s the way it is”, be it from a disgruntled parent on a long car journey, or a minister, or a friend, or teacher.

We have all been made, at some point, to feel about two inches tall. This is homelessness. The distinction by others of our worthlessness; physical, intellectual or spiritual. The number of times I have heard the phrases ‘Because it is” or “you just have to believe”. That was never something I could accept to do, at least not without convincing. Religion is not caused by the homelessness of the human spirit, but rather the decision to settle into a home of contentment - a labelled and defined space, with an address, postbox and comfortable armchair.

If I actually was at home, I would become comfortable. I would sink into my chair of complacency and stop thinking about the effect of my actions and the tiny beauties I might otherwise miss.

Sometimes, homelessness is a great thing, and forces us to keep asking the questions that we must never stop asking. I hope never to stop asking these questions, but never to accept being completely homeless. Our communities, our families, our friends and the strangers around us form our world, just as much as the bricks and mortars of our homes.