Each year, as part of our spring fund-raising auction, I offer to give a sermon on a topic of the bidder's choice. Last May, Dave Waterman was the successful bidder, and he didn't delay in talking to me about a topic. We easily agreed that I would talk about Thomas Starr King, for whom the UU theological school in Berkeley is named. At the time, I expected to be talking about the man and the early days of Unitarianism in California. And I will. But as 2004 progressed and 2005 began, more implications and issues emerged to make a Starr King sermon especially appropriate. I don't know if Dave foresaw any of these connections; I definitely did not. So I'm especially appreciative of Dave's choice. But I've gotten ahead of myself. Let me introduce you to the Rev. Starr King.

Thomas Starr King was born in New York in 1824. His father, a Universalist minister, was named Thomas Farmington King. Because the names were so similar, the boy was called 'Starr' -- that remained true his whole life. Unfortunately, when Starr was fifteen, his father died. Though still young, he started working to support the family. Because of this, he did not go to divinity school, or even to college. Yet he still managed to become well versed in several languages, in the classics and poetry, in contemporary sciences and geography. He sometimes referred to himself as a "graduate of the Charlestown Navy Yard" because while he was bookkeeper there, his duties and hours allowed him to read, to attend classes and lectures, and to hear the best speakers in Boston. These efforts were so successful that he qualified for the ministry, and was ordained in the Universalist Church. At the age of 21, Starr was called to the pulpit of his father's church. He was an energetic pastor, and despite his youth and small stature - he was barely five feet tall and slight of build - Starr also developed a following on the lecture circuit in New England.

Later moving to the Hollis Street Church in Boston, he affiliated with the Unitarians, but maintained ties with both denominations. He loved a good conversation and made friends among the Boston literary lights. Not above a bad joke, he greeted a friend one stormy morning by saying, "It's raining like Caesar!" "An absurd comparison," grumbled his friend. "Not at all," continued Starr, "Have you so soon forgotten your classics? -- 'Caesar reigned hard.'" His jokes weren't always such groaners. He's credited with the saying that the difference between Unitarians and Universalists is that the Universalists think that God is too good to damn them forever and the Unitarians think they are too good to be damned.

He continued to lecture widely and was in great demand. Theodore Parker, himself a major Unitarian figure, called Starr King the best preacher in Boston. His wife Julia hinted that, at least at times, she felt like a widow. Starr's health, never robust, was faltering under the burden of his schedule. He began to consider finding another church, this time one away from what he called the "cozy stove of civilization" -- that is, outside the area of Boston -- one where his labor would be of "greater worth to the general cause" and where he could more easily support his family and relieve the financial need for lecturing.

Word came from San Francisco. Their pulpit was empty for the sixth time in nine years. They were deeply in debt. They needed a minister who could take their church and lead it to fulfill its potential in that raw and teeming West Coast center. The idea may have appealed to Starr King's sense of adventure, for it wasn't the only offer that fit his requirements. He determined to go to California.

It was 1860, little more than ten years after the start of the Gold Rush, when Starr King arrived in San Francisco harbor. The ship docked late on a Saturday afternoon. The church was locked up, and had been for some time. The "committee of the parish" knew he was coming, but they assumed he would be too tired to preach. They didn't know Starr King. And those first few days seemed to set the tone for his time in California and to give the lie to any ideas of getting extra rest.

An announcement of Sunday services was immediately put in the Sunday paper. (Try doing that today!) Starr was up early to get a look at his new home. At breakfast, he told Julia that the wildflowers were wonderful, but "that is all that has impressed me favorably as yet. The city is very queer ...( his words) and uninteresting to Eastern eyes. It is a vast struggle of houses over half a dozen sand hills." Not that San Francisco's impression of him was much better, as this piece from a letter shows: "The first feeling with many, on seeing Mr. King, was disappointment. He was so diminutive, looked so young and was so very different in outward appearance from what was expected. The crowds went to hear him out of curiosity, expecting never to go again; thinking perhaps to leave before the service was over."

In this case, first impressions did not tell the tale. The letter continues, " ...when Mr. King began, there was no restlessness; his voice charmed them, and before he finished they knew they had a great man before them." The next morning's edition of the Daily Alta California spoke of "masterly eloquence, depth of thought, richness of illustration and nervous purity of diction and style". Now I'm not really sure what "nervous purity of diction and style" is, but they liked it. They congratulated the church on acquiring such an "earnest, able and unaffected pastor." Important friendships were begun within those first days, and before the week was out it was clear that Starr King had found his proper place.

The church flourished, and Starr King explored California's mountains, still largely unknown except for the mining areas. He traveled to Tahoe and Yosemite and wrote letters and journals. His enthusiasm for the Sierras flowed into sermons that were among the first in America to see wilderness as revelatory of Divine love and exuberance. For a sermon called "Living Waters from Lake Tahoe" he wrote, "If religion is, as it has so often been conceived to be, hostile to the natural good and joy which the heart seeks instinctively, -- if sadness, if melancholy, be the soul of its inspiration, and misery for myriads the burden of its prophecy, -- I do not believe that the vast deeps of space above us would have been tinted with tender azure...I do not believe that storms would break away into rainbows, and that the clouds of sunset would display the whole gamut of sensuous splendor...I do not believe that the mountains would crown and complete the general loveliness of the globe.....The world is strangely garnished by the Spirit if the truth of the Spirit is gloomy and ascetic. The color of the world is part of the Gospel of the world. It is an utterance of love; it is a prophecy of grace."

But California's political situation also called up Starr King's passion and eloquence. The Civil War was beginning and California, far from the centers of the East, was divided. Strong voices argued for the Confederacy, some spoke for the Union, and others held that California should initiate a whole new country along the West Coast -- a Pacific Republic. Starr King moved into the fray. He loved the Union, hated secession and hated slavery. He traveled the state and beyond, weaving his love of nature, his newly developed sense of the West and his call to support the Union into every lecture. Mining towns and the communities along the Sacramento River heard him, as did his own San Francisco. His audiences need not be genteel -- places like Hangtown, Dead Wood and Devil's Gate were on his schedule. He was soon being credited with saving California for the Union. His sense of humor went with him. Writing home, he commented, "Mad Mule has not yet sent in a request, nor Piety Hill, nor Modesty Gulch, but doubtless they will be heard from in time."

[Ed. note: California's gold backed the Union dollars, which in turn meant they were worth more than the Confederate dollars. Although California didn't contribute many regiments to the cause, her gold was a definite factor in the Union victory.]

Before long he began raising money for the United States Sanitary Commission -- the forerunner of the Red Cross -- which cared for the sick and wounded of the Civil War; for soldiers and for freed and abandoned slaves. His principal charity became California's principal charity and in the end more a quarter of the Sanitary Commission's funds had been raised by Starr King's efforts. The affairs of his church had not been neglected either. It had grown, become financially stable and in January, 1864 the new San Francisco Unitarian church building was dedicated. It's the sanctuary building they use to this day.

As 1863 ended, the Sanitary Commission had adequate funding and the new church was built. Starr King was asked to run for the U. S. Senate. He said he'd rather "swim to Australia." Now he could look forward to possibilities of travel, or perhaps writing a book on the Sierras to companion the one he had written on the White Mountains of New Hampshire years earlier, or maybe he would renew his study and writing on philosophy. But none of this was to be. In February, 1864, diptheria struck and was complicated with pneumonia. Starr tried to ignore them, waiting too long to seek medical treatment. Starr King died on March 4th. He was 39 years old.

California mourned him, as did his friends and colleagues in the East. The state honored him by choosing his statue as one of the two they could place in the nation's Capitol Building. A short street near the church in San Francisco was named for him. Both the Unitarian Universalist theological school in Berkeley and our church in Hayward bear his name today, as do two mountains -- one in the Sierras and the other in New Hampshire.

So that's the history part - and it's a great story, don't you agree? Small, somewhat frail son of a preacher makes good for himself and his family, moves to the Wild West and saves a struggling Unitarian congregation. He advocates passionately for his beliefs on the major issues of the day and persuades the new state to adopt his stand, stay in the Union and fund the Red Cross. Sounds great, doesn't it? It could have been a movie, tragic ending and all.

But today most Californians have never heard of Starr King. The Civil War seems distant and the Red Cross has always been around, hasn't it? Those attitudes are behind one of the issues that's emerged to make familiarity with Starr King more relevant lately. There's a move afoot in California to remove his statue in the U. S. Capitol - and to replace it with a likeness of the late President Ronald Reagan. It's true that Reagan was the only Californian to become president, but Starr King's effect on California, the Civil War and the times seem mightily significant to me. And his values - opposition to slavery, appreciation of the natural world as more than raw materials, insistence on the loving nature of God, opposition to the idea of human depravity and willingness to reach out to people regardless of their walks of life or levels of education - all are still important in our world today. I'm glad for this opportunity to lift up Starr King's life and his values, in hopes that you will agree about their importance, and maybe even talk to others, especially if a conversation about Capitol statues gets started.

There's another area where Starr King's story raises challenges to us. It's the whole intersection of religion, values, issues and politics. When you get into the details, it's clear that attitudes about all this were different in the 1860s. When I talked about Starr King's opposition to slavery and his advocacy of keeping California in the Union, I was clearly talking about values and issues. But he went beyond that, actively supporting pro-Union candidates. One of his parishioners, Leland Stanford, ran for governor in 1861 and another, Frederick Low, ran in1863. Starr King campaigned with them across the state. With this support, they each won easily. Their victories meant that California's commitment to the Union was assured. But today, we would say that campaigning for a candidate is a violation of the principle of separation of church and state. We would raise questions about conflict of interest if a minister campaigned heavily for a church member. What would he or she stand to gain? And the IRS - which of course didn't exist in the 1860s - has rules about these things for churches and other not-for-profit organizations.

In our zeal for the separation principle, we have often said that religion is a personal matter, and should not be active in public decision making. Developments over the past few decades raise urgent challenges to that position. Certainly the Civil Rights movement was grounded in religious as well as civil beliefs and principles. Cognitive science has made it clear that we make our political decisions based on our world views and moral understandings. If we don't talk about those, how can we explain the consistency of our choices? How can we claim our own values if they aren't part of the conversation? And having named the importance of articulating our moral position, we must ask, "What are the concrete steps that follow?" What are the issues that call to us as strongly as abolition, unity and support for health measures called Starr King? Are there ways in which we, and California, can lead in today's value- laden decisions?

It's pretty clear that Starr King's level of activity is beyond what most of us are willing or able to undertake. (And I surely hope that none of you will put off seeing your doctor if you get diphtheria or pneumonia, let alone both!) But finding the right level for each of us is no easy matter. We are often reluctant to take stands that may be unpopular or controversial. We want to avoid being vocal on so many issues that we become predictable and easily disregarded. We worry about being targets for those who oppose us. Yet we know that if we are silent theirs are the only voices heard. How can we be effective? What are we called to do?

This isn't the first time I've wished for an easy answer and not found one. I can tell you that I struggle with these questions day by day. What is effective and appropriate? How can I balance my role as a religious leader in dealing with the public issues that have moral dimensions? Which of the many current issues are most urgent? And frankly, how can I help you all to find answers to these questions for yourselves - without either letting you off the hook or urging you to actions that don't fit your unique attributes, situations and commitments?

From time to time, we encourage advocacy activity here at the Fellowship - writing letters, coming to workshops and forums, making valentines for the governor. But no one except you yourself can make the decisions about what is right for you. Still, I remind you that what is actually right for you may not be what you're used to doing. I urge you to move beyond your usual habits - your comfort zone - at least a few steps. We make value-rich decisions every day, in large ways and small ones. Our choices matter. Much lies before us, just as in Starr King's time. A wise tradition says that the first steps of a journey are the hardest. And there's a long way to go. Shouldn't we start - today?

Ferbruary 06, 2005

(Copyright by Rev. Grace Simons. Contact the author for permission to use.)

This is one in a collection of Minister's Sermons. We also have a collection of Guest Sermons, a brief Welcome and Biography from Rev. Simons, and the latest edition of Grace Notes, a column Rev. Grace writes for our newsletter.