“We Need Not Pray Alike to Love Alike”

Sermon by Gregory Potts on Sunday, July 13th, 2025

My partner, Paul, is an improv performer. He taught me the phrase, “yes, and…” In improv, those two magic words are often used to respond to and build on whatever a fellow actor has said. Unitarian Universalism is often the faith of “yes, and…” Where others see contradictions, we often strive instead to hold together paradoxes… especially when it comes to interfaith relations. When we are at our best, our starting place isn’t an impulse to prove that you are wrong so that I can be right.  We have never been the sort to engage in a holy war. We are instead among those who say that war is never holy. 

Indeed, we are defined in part by our openness to and curiosity about the wisdom of our neighbors’ faith traditions. Yes, we UUs have a distinct tradition with its own history and practices and songs and values. But, as faith traditions go, our boundaries are unusually porous. That’s why part of our youth’s Coming of Age program involves visits to the services of other faith traditions. This year’s Coming of Age cohort, for instance, visited a Quaker meeting, a mosque prayer service, a Buddhist meditation service, and a Jewish Shabbat service. The differences in beliefs and practices between those communities and ours are clear. But we inevitably also identify areas of commonality. 

At their best, these visits are not about spiritual tourism or anthropological studies. We instead strive to enter the worship spaces of our neighbors with the intention of making meaningful connections and with a humble openness to even walking away changed. We may even cross fertilize a bit by bringing new insights or practices back with us to Second Unitarian. 

Mishkan is a Jewish congregation that often meets right here in this sanctuary. Earlier this year, Paul, and I – together with Sue Dunmore – joined the youth group’s visit to worship with Mishkan. Visiting Mishkan was an adventure. I didn’t try to sing along because the music is in Hebrew and, hey, wait – the prayer book goes from “back” to “front”! (Or at least what mainstream culture has taught us to think of as back and front!!) And the congregation sits in a circle. They share bread at the end of their service. So many discoveries! But I also felt surprisingly at home. I knew I was a visitor but I also felt included and I found that so many of their values resonated with my own. And even while they addressed plenty of serious issues, the service was fun! Who knew?

In addition to making our space available to Mishkan, we at Second Unitarian Church find many ways of partnering with our neighbors of other faith traditions as well as our secular neighbors:

- Back in the 1970s, we were one of the congregations who co-founded The Night Ministry, an interfaith organization serving people experiencing homelessness. And a team of volunteers from 2U continues to show up for The Night Ministry to this day. 

- In our decision to serve as a migrant sanctuary, we have partnered with a network of other faith communities, with special support and guidance from our friends at the Lincoln Park Presbyterian Church.  

- We are also a member congregation of the Community Renewal Society, an ecumenical justice advocacy organization.

Again and again, 2U has found ways to work together with neighbors of other faith traditions and those who are not part of any faith community. 

And yet, let’s be honest. We are not always good at this. As much as we pride ourselves on being open-minded, many of us still carry stereotypes about other religious groups — even if we’re too polite to say them out loud. Christians? Oof — aren’t they all superstitious and probably vote MAGA? Muslims? Aren’t they all patriarchal and repressive? I could go on, but I won’t. The point is: even when those thoughts flash through our minds, we need to catch ourselves. Because a religious tradition includes enormous variation — and our oversimplified assumptions can do real harm. They give us permission to wall ourselves off from our neighbors.

Let’s practice the Golden Rule here because other people have stereotypes about us, too. UU’s? Oh, you mean those overeducated, upper-middle-class eggheads who don’t really believe in anything at all? …Doesn’t feel great, does it?

Probably the one thing that can help us to challenge our preconceptions is to actually meet our neighbors and build relationships with them. Indeed, the challenge to understand religious differences has played out in my most intimate relationship. A year and a half ago, I met and fell in love with Paul, who regularly attends worship services with me here at 2U. He has always approached our community with respect and openness, while also determining that it is not the right fit for him as a primary spiritual home. Paul said, “Christianity is my first language of faith.” Not “the one true faith” but his faith. His home base is Urban Village Church, a progressive congregation of the United Methodist Church. Just as he has lovingly supported my religious path and come alongside me here, I too have joined him for worship many times at Urban Village. If you ever notice that Paul and I are not here on Sunday morning, there is a good chance that that is where we are.

And he and I have grown closer by sharing this important part of our lives with each other. Although our life stories and religious journeys have been different and we have chosen different church homes, we nonetheless find enormous overlaps in our theological outlooks. Things at Urban Village are definitely different from here at 2U. They describe themselves as a “Jesus-loving community.” They sing praise music. Of course, they always read biblical scripture. And they take communion each week. 

But what strikes me again and again is that our community and theirs share so many values in common. UUism grew out of liberal Christianity—and that tradition is still central among our Unitarian kin in Transylvania, India, the Philippines, the UK, Kenya, and beyond. So, when I visit Urban Village Church, it doesn’t feel like I’m crossing a great divide. It feels like I’m visiting a first cousin in the global family of faith. 

Plus, given that I grew up United Methodist and have come to identify as a UU Christian myself, it isn’t such a stretch for me personally to bridge these two worlds. Sometimes, interfaith work requires serious bridge-building across wide gaps of difference. But other times, it’s more like reconnecting with relatives in our extended spiritual family tree.

Sometimes we Unitarian Universalists can feel out of step with other faith communities because, in our culture, conversations about faith typically start with, “What does your church believe?” People often assume that supernatural belief is the primary definition of a church. Well, when it comes to creeds or beliefs, we UUs don’t claim any. Maybe you hold some beliefs individually, but there are none that we all agree on. So, we may wonder if we don’t have anything in common with our neighbors at all. But a religion is about so many other things besides doctrinaire beliefs: community and belonging; history; tradition; rituals; symbols; stories; songs; and values that shape how we live and love. And it is especially in the realm of values where we can find deep connection with neighbors of other traditions. 

Despite very real differences in theology and practice, I think Second Unitarian, Mishkan and Urban Village have something in common. We are all religious liberals. By religious liberalism, I mean faith that values freedom of thought, openness to new understanding, respect for science, and commitment to justice. It doesn’t mean anything-goes relativism, but it does mean holding belief lightly and values firmly. UUism represents an especially distilled version of religious liberalism, but we don’t have a monopoly on it. 

Speaking of values, last year, the Unitarian Universalist Association named these as our shared values: pluralism, generosity, interdependence, equity, justice, transformation, and love. Thank heavens that none of these are exclusive to UUs. They are not the values currently guiding our nation. But they are values shared by many of our fellow Americans and people around the world—both secular and religious. We UUs here in the US are at most 150,000 souls. So, we need to find the other folks who share these values and commitments, including our neighbors at Urban Village and Mishkan and many other communities of faith. 

We put love at the center. So do they. So, for those of you who might feel lost at a place like Urban Village or Mishkan, I encourage you to start by focusing first on love. The title of my sermon today is a spin on the well-known quote that says, “We need not think alike to love alike.” 

Folks at Urban Village constantly talk about – and live out – their love for each other and for the world around us. The same spirit that moves among us here in this sanctuary moves in countless communities in this world – whether it be on Sunday mornings or Friday evenings or any other time. Say it in the ways that resonate for you – the Spirit of Life, the Spirit of Love, God… Whatever you call it, thank heavens that that sustaining spirit is abundant in our hurting world even as evils are also abundant. As Jesus once said, “Whoever is not against us is for us.” Or we can say it this way: we must honor the work of healing, justice and love, no matter where it is found. 

Urban Village and Mishkan affirm LGBTQ+ folks. They are anti-racist and work toward social justice. Urban Village, in particular, is the most racially diverse congregation I’ve ever been exposed to. Urban Village and Mishkan take the same stands on most social issues as our own church does. And they too value interfaith relations. No one at Urban Village has ever raised an eyebrow when I share that I am a member of Second Unitarian. As a matter of fact, the pastor, Johnathan Grace, wears a stole that features not only the cross but also the Star of David, the Islamic crescent moon, and other religious symbols. He also makes it clear that you don’t have to be a member of their church—or even identify as Christian—to be invited to share in communion. 

And both Mishkan and Urban Village Church have LGBTQ+ clergy and congregational leaders. In particular, I want to mention the Rev. Dr. Pamela Lightsey—a Black, queer theologian who is one of the co-pastors at Urban Village Church and also a faculty member at Meadville Lombard, Chicago’s own Unitarian Universalist seminary.

She stands at the intersection of traditions, identities, and commitments that are often kept apart—and she brings them together with courage and clarity. Her leadership reminds us that pluralism is not just a value. It’s a practice.

Because I have become a regular visitor at Urban Village and feel love for both their community and this one, I’ve come up with a little phrase to describe myself: I’m coming out to you today as “ecclesially polyamorous.” You are my people, but you’re not my only people. I guess you could say I’m spiritually bilingual. But I don’t think that makes me especially unusual. Many of you can probably identify. I know that many of you identify as UU and also Christian, Jewish, humanist, Buddhist or pagan. Or you may check multiple boxes. Given our theological diversity, we UUs practice interfaith relations not only with our neighbors but also right here among ourselves. 

Now, to be clear, interfaith relations are not always easy. And, in fact, they are often impossible. Religion is a phenomenally broad concept, and there are faith communities whose values are the opposite of ours. Paul and I have a slightly sick habit of watching documentaries about religious cults. Jonestown, Scientology, Mormon splinter groups—we’ve watched them all. I don’t necessarily recommend that you follow our lead as these programs can often be quite disturbing. These groups always inflict spiritual and emotional and financial abuse on their members and sometimes they engage in physical abuse, sexual abuse, imprisonment, and even murder.

But I do get a couple of benefits from these programs. First, I consistently find the featured cult survivors to be inspirational people with remarkable stories of resilience. And, secondly, sometimes contrasts help us see things more clearly. Learning about how deeply unhealthy religious communities function offers me a clear frame of reference for appreciating exactly what a gift a healthy spiritual community really is. I’m a theologian who studies unhealthy faith in the same way that doctors study disease. Our church isn’t perfect. We have interpersonal challenges just like any group of humans. But overall, we are doing well. 

So, to be clear, as I promote respect and openness in interfaith relations, I am not promoting a starry-eyed ideal that all religions are true and just represent different paths up the same mountain. Nope. Some of them are paths down into a deep valley of despair. So, we must of course exercise discretion before forming alliances. And, at times, we must stand in opposition to the words and actions of other religious groups, especially when faith is used to promote hate as we see most visibly these days in the Christian nationalists who have exerted power in our country. 

And yet, even as we may condemn harmful religious groups, we should be careful about making judgments and assumptions about the individuals involved. Like I said, cult survivors are some of my real heroes. A lot of people in unhealthy religious communities know that something is wrong but do not know how to get out. 

So where does this leave us? It leaves us with a calling.

In a time of rising division and rising authoritarianism justified by a twisted version of faith, religious communities have a crucial role to play—not in retreating into sameness, but in showing what it looks like to live with difference and still work together. In fact, I believe that religious pluralism is one of the great antidotes to authoritarianism. Because authoritarianism thrives on fear, conformity, and control. But healthy religion—when lived with courage—cultivates curiosity, freedom, and connection.

This is why, as Muslim activist Eboo Patel reminds us, “interfaith cooperation is not just a nice thing. It is a social good and a civic necessity in our diverse democracy.” In other words, it’s not extra credit. It’s part of the assignment. 

And interfaith cooperation is exactly what our values call us to.

• When we show up with respectful curiosity for a neighbor’s worship service, we are practicing pluralism.  

• When we share our building with another community, we are living out generosity.

• When we partner across difference to address homelessness or inequality, we honor our interdependence and our commitment to equity and justice.  

• When we are changed by these relationships—when we let them move us, stretch us, deepen us—we are open to transformation.  

• And when we do all of this in the spirit of mutual care, we are grounded in love.

Not every religion shares these values. But many do. And many in the growing population with no religious affiliation do as well. The world is full of good-hearted companions in the work of healing, justice, and peace. So let us find them. Let us recognize them. Let us build with them. Because that is how we resist—not just with protest, but with partnership.

As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks once said, “The test of faith is whether I can make space for difference. Can I recognize God’s image in someone who is not in my image?” That’s a powerful question. Let’s always aspire toward living such that we can answer that question yes.

Because relationship is resistance.  And love across difference is necessary for the revolution that this nation desperately needs.