THIS Christmas our family will go to church. The service
is held in a beautiful old church in the charming town of Walpole, N.H., just
over the border from Vermont. The Lord’s Prayer hangs on the wall behind the
sanctuary. A lectern rises above the nave to let the pastor look down on his
flock. The pews and the side stalls have the stern, pure lineaments suited to
the Colonial congregation that once came to church to face God.
Except that this church is Unitarian. Unitarianism
emerged in early modern Europe from those who rejected a Trinitarian theology
in preference for the doctrine that God was one. By the 19th century, however,
the Unitarian church had become a place for intellectuals who were skeptical of
belief claims but who wanted to hang on to faith in some manner. Charles
Darwin, for example, turned to Unitarians as he struggled with his growing
doubt. My mother is the daughter of a Baptist pastor and the black sheep,
theologically speaking, of her family. She wants to go to church, but she is
not quite sure whether she wants God. The modern Unitarian Universalist
Association’s statement of principles does not mention God
at all.














