Chalice of Our Faith
Rev. Sharon Dittmar

It was a cold February morning in 1940 when Rev. Waitstill Sharp and his wife, Martha, were photographed leaving Boston for New York and then France. The photograph shows Waitstill in a suit and tie, and his wife, Martha, in a dark hat and gloves with a large corsage on the left side of her jacket. Both are smiling and waving. When I look at their photograph, they seem so poignantly average to me. Two young people sailing overseas.

But the Sharps were not just sailing overseas. They were two Unitarians, sent by the newly formed Unitarian Service Committee (or USC), to aid Czechoslovakian Unitarian refugees in France. Upon arrival in New York the Sharps discovered that France had surrendered to Germany. So they flew instead to Lisbon, and established the USC headquarters there.

For the next year the Sharps worked out of Lisbon, funneling refugees to America and safety. In October 1940 Waitstill Sharp used his wife's return ticket to America to smuggle the German novelist, Lion Feuchtwanger, who was fleeing the Nazis, out of Europe. When Feuchtwanger safely arrived in Boston he spoke to the Unitarian Club, explaining his plight, and those of so many other refugees

Like so many other refugees who turned to the USC in need. Later that same year, Martha returned to America with twenty-eight refugee children who were placed in American homes. Throughout the war the USC operated in Lisbon, assisting refugees and intellectuals in their escape to freedom.

So why am I telling you this story on a Sunday when you were promised a sermon on the chalice? Because our flaming chalice was designed by an Austrian refugee and artist named Hans Deutsch, who was also rescued by the USC. Fleeing the Nazis, Deutsch escaped to France and then to Portugal. Before the USC made possible his final escape to America in 1941, Deutsch designed the flaming chalice as a symbol for the USC. The Service Committee and Deutsch explained its creation with these words "The symbol represents a chalice, with a flame burning in the holy oil of helpfulness and sacrifice - spreading warmth and light and hope." Out of humanitarian need and effort our chalice was born.

The symbols of flame and chalice were well chosen. Fire or flame is an ancient symbol that appears in many religions, symbolizing everything from destruction and rebirth to purity and wisdom. In astrology, fire is one of the four major elements. In mythology the phoenix rises from the flames. The Buddha advises "Be lamps unto yourselves." As Rev. Elwood Sturtevant, one of my colleagues in the district explains

The flaming chalice lights the way before us, offering knowledge, truth, divinity, compassion, and hope.

The chalice cup has even more meaning. Elwood notes that the chalice is also an ancient symbol "in Christianity[it was a symbol of the] communion, the cup of the Last Supper and the Holy Grail; the Cup of Elijah in the Passover seder, also a pre-Christian feminine symbol of fertility, abundance . . . and creativity." For Unitarians the chalice also carries the story of priest, reformer, and martyr, Jan Hus.

Hus was a Czechoslovakian born in 1369. Although neither a Unitarian nor a Universalist, Hus lived and died by principles held dear within our faith today, a free and responsible search for truth and meaning, equality among clergy and laity, and the cup of salvation offered for all.

Hus's troubles began with his preaching and writing. As Jack Mendelsohn explains

In a time when the majority of people were uneducated and priests conducted services in Latin, the faithful came to masses only understanding the power of the soaring cathedrals where they worshipped. Comfort was taken from ritual in which much of the meaning could not be understood. Into this absence of comfort and information, Hus preached in the vernacular, translated the Bible so that those who are able to read could understand the words themselves instead of just relying on the translation of the religious authorities, and finally, he offered the communion cup to the laity.

In this way he lived our principles of justice, equality and compassion in human relationships, a free and responsible search for truth and meaning, and the right of individual conscience. As much as Hus defended free thought and action, he was motivated out of an old humanist love for humanity, the same love he gave to God and Christianity.

In 1410 several of Hus's books were banned on the grounds of heresy and Hus was excommunicated. In 1415 Hus was promised safe passage to a church council meeting. But when he arrived he was imprisoned, tried, and condemned to die at the stake, such an unjust cruelty. Yet this is what would happen to so many of the Protestant reformers in years to come-promised safe passage and then betrayed and condemned.

There is an extraordinary story told that while Hus was bound at the stake he made a pun on his name, which means "goose" in Czech. He said "Today you are burning a goose, but out of my ashes will be born a swan whom you will not burn!" Hus was right. The phoenix would rise from the ashes. As Europe discovered during the Protestant Reformation, you can kill people, but not ideas.

Hus's ideas and memory lived on in his native Czechoslovakia. In 1419 the Hussite Wars began when the followers of Hus continued to challenge the papal authorities. Some of his followers took to wearing the flaming chalice on their clothes symbolizing the flames that had killed Hus and the cup of communion he offered to all believers.

We can kill people, but not ideas. Hus continues to live with us when we light our chalice. It seems fitting that when Waitstill and Martha Sharp left in 1940 to help Czechoslovakian Unitarian refugees, the very descendants of Hus, the spirit of their enterprise grew to include non-Unitarians as well. A goose was killed, and out of its ashes a swan was born.

In an association with so few symbols and rituals, it is important to remind ourselves that as much as we are independent individuals, we are also a community with shared values. We are not alone.

I am reminded of Tommie's words

It is good to have a symbol that is both unifying and diverse, a symbol that authentically represents who we are, a group of religious seekers with shared values of truth, freedom, compassion, and hope. The chain is not always obvious. We are not an association that can trace its history through scriptural interpretations, councils, and religious leaders. We are an association that traces its history through a continuity of ideas like freedom and religious innovation. The chain is not always obvious, but it is there, from Hus to the Sharps, to Deutsch, to Tommie, to you and to me.

Even more, our flaming chalice honors our commitment to religious expression and action. This past week I spoke with a fellow UU, Leslie Edwards. Leslie is the grandson of W. H. G. Carter, who I will be preaching on in February. While discussing his grandfather, Leslie said to me "I love the chalice, and not letting the truth die. It is a symbol I can zero in on. The chalice is lit and it needs support to keep the flame from going out. This is what we have to be about, giving the flame support."

I was very moved by Leslie's description. We light and support the flame. We are responsible for it. We keep Unitarian Universalism alive. We find inspiration in our faith, we act on it in the world, and we return to the cup of life offered here, the spark of hope, the flame of truth, to fill us once again.

Like many UU congregations, the symbol of the flaming chalice has existed for decades, but has only been incorporated into worship in the last twenty years or so. First Church began to regularly use the chalice in the early 1990's, and our current chalice was designed by Jerry Cavanaugh.

For the next two months we will be experimenting with a new chalice ritual. Instead of hearing short biographies of members before lighting the chalice, we will listen to words that honor our heritage and remind us of who we are and why we gather here. As the chalice is lit there will be music. Occasionally the choir will sing. Sometimes when the children are with us we will sing together.

Mostly the chalice lighting will be a time to center and remind ourselves of our shared purpose, while deepening into worship with one another. At the end of the service the chalice will be extinguished until it is rekindled next week. It recently came to the Worship Committee's attention that the chalice can not be seen by everyone in its current position. We don't have an answer for that yet, but we might experiment with its placement as well.

When we light the chalice the first people I remember are Hans Deutsch, Waitstill and Martha Sharp, Lion Feuchtwanger, and twenty-eight young children. Perhaps their numbers are not great, their names less than famous. But they were average people, like you and I, moved by both desperation and the conviction of their liberal faith to give to those in need, to help those who were helpless and bound. They are our legacy and our future, a testament to our faith and our beloved community.