Of all the articles that appeared on this website, masonloika.com, none inspired more reaction than the time Alice and I wore blue jeans to the Unitarian Universalist Community Church of Washington County (UUCCWC), because those were the only clothes we had. I didn’t feel guilty wearing them being part of the choir; our Pod was in no-man’s land. Besides, Buckingham’s Quakers regarded blue jeans as appropriate attire in its historic meetinghouse.
Nevertheless, the UUCCWC minister made it a point to tell Alice and me not to wear jeans, even while Alice and I were nervously awaiting our stuff. We were flabbergasted by the ludicrousness of that admonition, and Alice does not attend church services there any longer.
I’m wary of not appearing to be a hypocrite, but I’m singing in the UUCCWC choir for Christmas Eve service. So why am I involved?
One person deserves the credit:
Margaret Bye Richie, who actually should be referred to as Dr. Margaret Bye Richie, even though she preferred that I call her “Margaret.” Doctorates run in the Bye family; they are direct descendants of landowners who personally bought their property from William Penn. Dr. Richie was regarded as a stalwart Quaker, as well as the acclaimed author of Bucks County Stone Houses.
The Bye family name is historic in that part of Pennsylvania. And Dr. Richie was one of the sweetest, accepting personages you could ever hope to meet. Her longevity matched her reputation; she celebrated her 100th birthday before passing peacefully in her sleep nine days later.
Because joining the Quakers was one of the first moves I made after arriving in Bucks County in the summer of 2003, I felt the historic meetinghouse had become a second home. But that was before I got into a terrible tiff with them in April 2006. In the midst of my own self-doubt, a Quaker Friend steered me to Dr. Richie, to whom I described how Buckingham Meeting adopted a “consensus” while I was serving the meeting as recording secretary and ignored my dissent afterward.
I told Dr. Richie how I stood apart from the rest of the Quakers after a widower named Eugene Messa attended a Meeting for Worship. His motive for attending was to ask permission for his newly deceased wife, Jackie, to be buried next to her grandmother in the Quaker graveyard. Jackie Messa was musically astute, and became a vital force in the Bucks County Opera Association. The Meeting was not moved, and said, “No.”
After discovering Messa’s son had been flying former Vice President Dick Cheney around on Air Force 2, even though I embrace liberal causes, I believed political impartiality colored the Quaker decision and was basically unfair. I reported my stand to a personal email list that had grown in popularity, one where I attained some supporters.
I then reported on a Quaker’s subsequent objection to a newspaper photographer at the Meeting, and how it appeared to be intolerant. I was a freelance journalist, after all. That was the last straw as far as Buckingham’s Quakers were concerned, because an email blast followed with the subject line: “From Karen Kay to Mason Loika in response to your continuous criticism of Quakers.”
When I showed Dr. Richie the offending email I wrote to my Friends and Supporters, and the scathing response by the clerk of Buckingham Quaker Meeting, she said, “Well, that’s not right.”
Dr. Richie lived up to her bloodline’s reputation right then. She became the ultimate Quaker in my eyes. That’s why I felt Margaret Bye Richie was a true Friend. That makes me a lucky guy.
(In fairness to Katherine Kay, I acknowledge the wisdom of her later personal decision to sacrifice her own gravesite and donate it to Eugene Messa’s wife. For the Buckingham Quakers, “good will to men” did carry the day.)
After I started to attend Pebble Hill, I became one of four facilitators for Pebble Hill’s meditation service. Then I saw Dr. Richie one last time. She was leaving Pine Run, a respected premier care facility for the aged, and moving to Cape Cod.
Dr. Richie confided that she found a spiritual home in Unitarian Universalism, and thought I would enjoy the practice. I forgot about her advice until three months ago when Alice and I moved to Hillsboro, Oregon, where we ran into a signpost noting a prominent UU church within a 10-minute drive of our apartment. This might be the place for us, I thought.
Besides, the only church promoting itself as “Quaker” here says the Bible should be taken literally and scriptures studied regularly. That’s not my cup of tea.
Unitarian Universalism prides itself on seven tenets: “The inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity and compassion in human relations; acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning; the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large; the goal of world community with peace, liberty and justice for all; and respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.”
Noble ambitions, for sure, but don’t all religions strive for nobility? How accepting is this church when the chips are down? Does their service bring me closer to my concept of who or what God may be?
The quality of UU hymns embraces the poetry of great thinkers. “Spirit of Life, come unto me, sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion” is one that is sung every service. And in my heart of hearts, music is the defining form of communication that causes my being to soar.
For Alice and me, the jury is still out on Unitarian Universalism, but I’m giving it a shot, its local minister notwithstanding. On Christmas Eve, I will raise my voice in harmony to help those who attend service find inspiration and a place for the soul to soar. Service begins on Wednesday, Dec. 24, at 7 pm.
December 21st marked the 101st anniversary of Margaret Richie’s birth, while December 30th denotes the first anniversary of her passing from planet Earth. These are the holidays, and I wistfully say, “Happy birthday, Margaret.”