Sermons by Reverend Don Beaudreault
I've Been Workin' on the Railroad: The Confessions of a Blue Collar Unitarian Universalist
Rev. Don Beaudreault
Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota, FL
March 5, 2006
OPENING WORDS: “May we be reminded…”
May we be reminded here of our highest aspirations, and inspired to bring our gifts of love and service to the altar of humanity.
May we know once again that we are not isolated beings but connected, in mystery and miracle, to the universe, to this community and to each other.Anonymous
MEDITATIVE READING: “The Mail Bag” from Class (adapted)
Dear Madam: We are a young couple about to buy our first home. May we assume that a fireplace has more status than a garage? The Hopefuls
Dear Hopefuls: It does, but the garage shows: go for the garage. And don’t say “home” – it’s vulgar.
*****
Dear Madam: What about the class aspects of standing on the sidewalk in a large city and eating a hot dog or similar viand bought from a street peddler presiding over one of those little carts? Puzzled
Dear Puzzled: Only people very expensively dressed or terribly good-looking can do this without impairing their status. Middle-class people demean themselves further by doing this sort of thing, but uppers can confirm their high status by it, like appearing at an afternoon ball game in a costly suit, suggesting that you’re doing the occasion honor. You also, in both activities, get high class-credit for your upper-class magnanimity in appearing to be democratic.
*****
Dear Madam: I am an Englishman planning to emigrate to the Untied States. Can you help me by explaining the class system there? Tony Blair
Dear Mr. Blair: No, you’d never get it – much too complicated. You must be born and nurtured here. But you should have no worries, because here the fact of British birth raises your class at least one notch, no matter how nondescript and fourth-rate you may in fact be.
*****
Dear Madam: I have been living in Georgetown for thirty years and find I must move to Del Rio, Texas. Will I suffer a loss of caste? Nervous
Dear Nervous: How can you ask? You’ll never be able to show your face in civilized company again. But at least you’re not moving to Miami.
*****
Dear Madam: My son attends Eckerd College in St. Petersburg, Florida, but he insists on putting a Harvard sticker in the rear window of this car. Is this wrong? Worried
Dear Worried: It is very wrong, but at least it indicates that he’s learning something down there. “He may go far.
*****
Dear Madam: My bank teller embarrasses me terribly by saying at the end of the transaction, “Have a nice day.” I don’t know what I’m supposed to say back. Can you help? Sincere
Dear Sincere: I suppose you can say “You too” or “Have one yourself,” although this last, like “Have one on me,” would sound a bit flippant. You should never say “Mind your own business” – that would be very rude. The best response to “Have a nice day,” I think is the one devised by a British friend of mine. He says: “Thank you, but I have other plans.” Perfectly polite, and yet it leaves no doubt that you are not in that person’s social class.
Paul Fussell
SERMON: “I’ve Been Workin’ on the Railroad: The Confessions of a Blue-Collar Unitarian Universalist”
And so, we have spoofed the class system with our little reading! And yet, “classism” as a term designating the thought and actions of some who are negatively critical of others because they are in a different social class from their own - can be a most insidious form of discrimination.
In his study of the classes in American contemporary life, Paul Fussell (whose reading we have just used) both humorously parodies every single one of us (since each of us is in a class – some of us attempting to straddle various classes) and, at the same time, seriously criticizes us.
It’s a great book, as Fussell romps and raves hither and yon through the descriptions of who we are and how we act. Just look at the picture on your order of service cover. Which drink would you prefer – that is if you drink alcohol – upper middle scotch and water (in a stylish class, complete with uplifting geese), middle class bourbon and ginger (complete with fruity decorations and toothpicks) or high-prole beer (with Mickey Mouse on the glass when you are not drinking straight from the can)?
Okay, for those who do not drink alcohol, which container would you choose for your green tea or the like?
Fussell gave me the idea for this sermon – as he described the eight social classes: upper, upper middle, middle, high proletarian, mid-proletarian, low proletarian, destitute, bottom out-of-sight.
I will let you read the book for yourself, but do let me quote his general statement about his thesis – which will lead into my blue-collar Unitarian Universalist’s “confessions.”
Says Fussell:
Thus the classes. They are usefully imagined as a line of theaters running side by side down a long street. Each has a marquee and lots of posters on the front. Plays about self-respect are running constantly in all of them, from the most comfortable to the barest and meanest. But the odd thing is that there’s no promotion from one theater to the next one up. And the important point is this: there’s no one playing in any of these theaters, no matter how imposing, who isn’t much of the time, scared to death that he’s going to stumble, muff his lines, appear in the wrong costume, or otherwise bomb. If you find an American who feels entirely class-secure, stuff and exhibit him. He’s a rare specimen.
So what kind of Unitarian Universalist are you? You might find Fussell’s classifications useful – from upper class Unitarian Universalist to bottom out-of-sight, and all those classes in-between – in pigeonholing yourself within the UU framework!
What? You think there are no classes without our free and liberal religious movement? Think again!
I know there are various social classes within Unitarian Universalism – because I have served people from all of them during my 27 years in the Unitarian Universalist ministry – and I know how some are faking where they came from!
I happen to be one of those! So I want to confess:
You see, I am a Blue-Collar Unitarian Universalist.
Not only that, but over the years, from when I first attended a Unitarian Universalist church 44 years ago until now, I have, on occasion felt discriminated against.
Before explaining what I mean, let me add a cautionary word:
This sermon is not meant to be overly specific concerning this congregation. This congregation is remarkable – highly sophisticated, meaning that this community is nearly always open to new ideas and friendly to visitors. “Nearly always,” because, indeed, you and I are only human, and to paraphrase the line in George Orwell’s novel Animal Farm: “We are all imperfect, but some of us are more imperfect than others.” And let me be the first to say “amen” and “mea culpa” to that!
Now some of you might think I am making much ado about nothing. But in nearing the end of my ministry with this congregation, I have purposely chosen sermon topics whose themes are, I believe, crucial to creating a more vital, more authentic, indeed a more loving church community.
So, you see, what I am talking about this morning is the subject of “inclusivity.” Or, to use another current term “diversity.”
And, my friends, that is a very serious subject!
I bring all this up because I, myself, have sometimes felt left out by Unitarian Universalists who come from formally educated families and/or who were born and raised as Unitarians or Universalists – or as a combined version of these two faith traditions.
I bring this up because I know that some of you, too, and some others at other times in my 27 years in the Unitarian Universalist ministry (serving congregations in various geographical regions of this country and congregations with their own special needs) have told me how their more humble family backgrounds, have made them feel ostracized by some Unitarian Universalists.
When I tell them that I know what they mean, they usually look at me askance. I tell them that I am a fake. That I know my origins and am proud of them – but that I wasn’t always; that my two-bit words and ability to quote learned passages from the Internet are all a ruse; that I am a half pure Scotch-Irishman and half-pure Frenchman from solid blue-collar – not blue-blood – American stock.
One grandfather made shoes in a New England factory.
The other was a railroad conductor in Western Maryland and Pennsylvania.
Both my grandmothers had lots of children and worked in the home. My paternal grandmother died as a young woman, from the complications of childbirth. She should have aborted that child, but her religion told her that was a sin.
That New England /French Canadian side was Catholic. The Appalachian side was Evangelical United Brethren.
Until my brother and I went to college, no one else had done so.
No one had much money.
No one questioned religious doctrine – until my father.
My father rode the railroad boxcars during the Great Depression – he was one of those that some called a “hobo.” He often told the story of how he almost starved to death when a railroad worker intentionally locked him in one of those boxcars – one that was not opened for many days. That experience made him question religion.
My mother was a waitress, depending on the kindness of strangers’ tips.
As a child I spent every summer and most holidays at the house where my mother was born – a modest structure built 50 yards from the railroad tracks. Sometimes in my dreams even these days I think I hear the 3:47 a.m. train thundering past my grandmother’s house.
My grandfather went to work on the trains when he was a boy, dying a year short of receiving a gold watch for 50 years of service.
The railroad is in my blood. So is the factory.
Indeed, I am in an aging middle-aged man, ruminating about the past.
It wasn’t until I went to college that I heard my last name pronounced the way a French-speaker would pronounce it. When my freshman logic professor read the roll and called my name, I didn’t answer!
I used to talk the way my mother talked – with an Appalachian sound, one that comes back to me now and then:
I've been working on the railroad
All the livelong day
I've been working on the railroad
Just to pass the time awayCan't you hear the whistle blowing
Rise up so early in the morn
Can't you hear the captain shouting
Dinah, blow your hornMiddle-age man, ruminating about the past.
The origins of this famous tune are unknown. Some trace it back to a "Louisiana Levee" song of African-Americans. Others believe it is an old hymn adapted by the Irish work gangs in the West. The verses of "Dinah" and "Someone's In the Kitchen" are later additions. Texans also adapted the tune, as The Eyes of Texas are Upon You. Dinah may refer to a woman OR a locomotive. The horn signifies the call to lunch.
So, over the years, when I have occasionally “come out” as a blue-collar Unitarian Universalist to those whose backgrounds have been similar, I also try to assure them, despite the fact that they feel “different” and don’t know if they will stay in the church of such “high-brows” and “rich people” and “talkers” and “doers” that being a Unitarian Universalist is not about anything other than the desire to be free to question assumptions and discover the truths for one’s self; that it is about being open to being who they are and open to hearing different opinions and accepting different lifestyles from their own.
But I also tell them – in a sad and longing way - that this free-faith movement could be much larger if those who are currently in the pews and pulpits would reach out to those who might very well be unlike themselves in most ways except for the fact that they, too, believe in a non-doctrinal, non-dogmatic, non-creedal approach to religion which propounds an ethical approach to living on this planet.
Indeed, what I am talking about this morning is the subject of “inclusivity” and “diversity.”
Let me expand on this a bit by telling some more of my story as a blue-collar UU in three memorable places:
Some of you know that when I talk about my serving the Unitarian Universalist Church in Charleston, WV I have referred to myself as “the bishop of West Virginia.” No one but myself designated me this, but I thought it was rather apropos, given the fact that at the time I was the only fully accredited, fellowship, and settled UU minister in the state!
When colleagues heard that I was working in West Virginia, even those not from the hub of the universe – that is to say, Boston – were amazed. Knowing that I had most previously worked in the Los Angeles area, my friends could not figure out why I would want to be in Charleston. “What are you doing there?” was their common question. You know, a form of classism at its worse? “What?” they were probably thinking “UUs in them thar’ hills?”
Being half-Appalachian I relished that ministry. It was a wonderful change from the urban sprawl – and the crowded conditions, smog, and crime that went with it. But even in saying this, I guess my judgment is also a form of classism, is it not?
Well, yes there are UUs in West Virginia – even if most of them would never join the church. Indeed, I would get about a call per week from someone asking about our beliefs, and after hearing my response, would say “Guess I’m one of you!”
But then, if and when the caller would actually come to a service s/he usually felt left out – because in West Virginia as in every place where there is a community of UUs, we have a learned and sophisticated group of people!
I have also visited the Unitarians in the Visayan Islands in the Philippines, where, preaching to farmers and fisher folk in a tin hut during the beginnings of a typhoon, I was amazed at feeling my commonality with their striving for meaning and purpose beyond so-called “prescribed” religion. They were liberal, but formally uneducated people, doing the best they could under dire circumstances.
And this past October I went to England and visited the various churches where I shall soon be working. What a variety of types of people within these 7 churches – from the highly educated city dwellers of Liverpool and their magnificent “cathedral” to the descendants of the once-coal-mining area around Wigan – where the sanctuary is built directly over an old mine, causing the building to list to one side! It was the only place that I literally fell out of the pulpit!
Opposite types of Unitarians, indeed. But all Unitarians.
Truly, my friends, there should be room at the table for all those of like mind and heart concerning things liberally religious, where what you are (your sociological class) is not important; but who you are (as a person) is.
Yes, Unitarian Universalists are varied – even if some will never know they are Unitarian Universalists. Had I not “stumbled” upon this proud faith when I was a teenager from the blue-collar side of the American spectrum, I do not know if I would have ever discovered it.
Truly, my dream for our religious movement is to be a community of “both-and” rather than one of “either-or.” Where there is room for all of us, beyond classifications.
And so may we grow in knowledge and love, so that this dream might become a reality.
And may we heed the words of our opening hymn:
We’re all children of one family, we’re all brothers, sisters, too;
If you cherish one another, love and friendship come to you.This old world can be a garden, full of fragrance, full of grace;
It we love our neighbors truly, we must meet them face to face.
CLOSING WORDS: “To Serve the People…”
To worship God is nothing other than to serve the people. It does not need rosaries, prayer carpets, or robes. All people are members of the same body, created from one essence. If fate brings suffering to one member the others cannot stay at rest.
Saadi