There’s a framed picture in our hallway of my partner and me with our eldest niece. The frame proudly states, “My Godparents.”
Occasionally, one of my kiddos spots the photo and inquires about this “godparents” concept. “What are those? Do I have them? Why not?” I do my best to clarify, but it often ends with an apology and a brief explanation about their lack of godparents.
“Well…you weren’t baptized.”
“I wasn’t?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?!”
“Our faith doesn’t involve baptism for kids.”
Sometimes these responses spark more questions, while other times they simply result in mild disappointment about the absence of godparents, a disinterest in baptism, and a reluctant acceptance that our family doesn’t belong to the mainstream religious crowd.
They grasp that we don’t attend church in the same way their Christian and Jewish pals do — but we aren’t entirely church-free either. In a way, I think my kids feel a bit shortchanged; they’re religious outsiders who still have to participate in some church activities.
Our family identifies as Unitarian Universalist (UU) — a somewhat fringe religion that’s as tricky to describe as it is to pronounce. UUs don’t adhere to a strict set of beliefs. Representing only about one percent of the American population in the “other faith” category, we are a remarkably diverse spiritual community. Some UUs come from different religious backgrounds, while others identify as atheists or agnostics. Belief in a deity is subjective — whether to capitalize the “g” in God is up for discussion. There’s no Trinity, no bar/bat mitzvahs, and no baptisms aimed at erasing that pesky thing known as “original sin,” since we don’t subscribe to that concept.
Instead, we prioritize kindness, community, and reverence for something greater than ourselves, though what that “something” is varies from person to person. Think of it as the Church of the Golden Rule.
I transitioned to Unitarian Universalism later in life after my typical Catholic upbringing, complete with First Communion, confirmation, and abstaining from meat on Fridays during Lent. While I value the spiritual base of my childhood, I eventually came to terms with the fact that I didn’t subscribe to the Trinity, and I was uncertain about the whole “God” business. I definitely didn’t believe in a “bearded white man in the sky” kind of God. But a more abstract concept of god with a lowercase “g”? Maybe.
Beyond my own beliefs, I was determined to provide my children with a spiritual foundation — but how? I wanted our family to engage in a spiritual community that nurtured a sense of the divine without sacrificing knowledge and authenticity. Did such a place even exist?
For some time, I doubted it. But over the last decade, I’ve discovered that this fringe religion with a mouthful of a name is precisely what our family needs. We read Rumi and Mary Oliver and belt out a variety of non-traditional songs. Our church facilitates groups like Atheist, Humanist & Agnostics, the Feminine Divine, and a book club. We celebrate an annual Passover Seder, a Christmas pageant, and an absolutely fabulous Halloween party. My evolving (though non-Christian) beliefs coexist beautifully with my partner’s humanist views, and our kids are learning the value of spirituality without being told how to approach it. It’s similar to the way many say they’re “spiritual but not religious,” except, you know, it actually is a religion.
As much as I adore our liberal, somewhat hippie-dippy minority faith, there are moments when I struggle to grasp its meaning, let alone explain it to someone unfamiliar with UU. Fitting in with non-UUs can be challenging. To my Jewish and Christian friends, I’m not religious enough; to my non-churchgoing friends, I’m too religious. And my kids? Let’s just say they’re still a bit miffed they didn’t receive First Communion gifts like many of their friends.
However, for the most part, our family embraces our religious “otherness.” I take pride in being part of a faith community that has long been an advocate for marriage equality and that has had gender-neutral bathrooms long before it was a trending topic. I’m grateful that my kids are exposed to diverse faith traditions — everything from Judeo-Christian beliefs to Islam, Buddhism, and paganism — and that they’re learning to not only tolerate differences but celebrate them. I’m eternally thankful that I don’t have to compromise my beliefs to be part of a spiritual community.
While we may not fit neatly into the box of mainstream religion, we certainly feel at home.
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In summary, our family has found a unique and fulfilling spiritual home in Unitarian Universalism, where we can embrace our individuality and learn about various beliefs while fostering kindness and understanding.