There’s been an ongoing discussion in UU blogs about the need for theological renewal and, more specifically, a religious narrative that works for UUs. (To follow the post trail, start here, then go to Philocrites, then to Lo-Fi Tribe, then to Arbitrary Marks.)

I want to mark off two kinds of narratives: mere-stories and plot-stories. (Don’t kill me, English majors—I know this ain’t quite right.) By “mere-stories,” I mean—to bounce off of Arbitrary Marks—narratives without eschatons. By “plot stories,” I mean narratives with eschatons. I’d also say that any narrative with a plot is a narrative with an eschaton. I’ll try to fill all this out more.

A plot-story is one with suspense, one that leads somewhere. We may not know where it’s going, but we know more and more as we go along. Plot-stories open a space for us to get inside of them. They become part of us, as they are told, and we become part of them. Plot-stories make new stories happen.

Mere-stories are more observational. That don’t make us feel like something is at stake. We aren’t invited to have strong feelings about them, and they don’t invite us to reason our way through them, hoping to anticipate the end.

UUism has a lot of mere-stories.

I also want to suggest two kinds of religion: liberal religion and liberating religion. Liberal religion tells mere-stories. Liberating religion tells plot-stories.

So I ask: Why does it matter that Jesus is not God? Why does it matter that there is no Hell? Why does it matter that all are saved? Why does it matter that we are not born into sin? What is the plot-story that makes these questions liberating?

To push further: Michael Hogue is calling for a new liberal religion reformation. This is all well and good. But I suspect there are three models of change we should consider: reformation, renewal and revolution.

As I said in comment to Hogue’s post, the model of perpetual crisis—or perpetual reformation—simply cannot work. No one can live perpetually in crisis. A crisis is a moment in which a decision must be made; there is a fork in the road which cannot be avoided. The technical theological term for people who live perpetually in crisis, if memory serves, is “drama queen.” (Insert Chutney’s “Rant About Hippies #3” here. ) Further, most folks will not trust someone who is perpetually in crisis.

[I hesitate to add this, but Evil Chutney insists that I must: Only two kinds of people set up camp at the crossroad, highwaymen and hookers. Now there would be a good story. But not one to base liberating religion around. ]

Why would we choose to see ourselves in perpetual crisis? It’s gratifying, perhaps, to see ourselves as superhumans who can stand to live in constant cognitive dissonance. “Ah, that the human-merely-human would cast off their ignorance and superstition to join us in this brave new world of constant crisis! But, alas, they have not the courage, nor the reading list.

“And, besides, the human-merely-human don’t understand that Hosea Ballou already addressed this issue in his 1845 sermon entitled…”