Should Being a Unitarian be Easy?

So, my husband has these friends at work who I think should be Unitarians. They're a group of six or so from varied paths--a couple of Agnostics, an Atheist, a liberal Jew, etc--who meet every month or two to talk about religion. One of them, (who I call "Cuba guy" because I can't remember his name and I'm really impressed by his medical work overseas) even asked me about Unitarianism once. I was prepared. I had my elevator speech at the ready (an elevator speech is an outreach tool--your thirty second summary of how you'd define Unitarianism). I drew it out and launched into it with full speed and enthusiasm. He backed away slowly... nearly onto the street, actually...

"How's that different from a book club?" he asked.

I wasn't sure.

So, realizing that I wasn't so good at this conversion stuff, I transfered my efforts to my husband. Our conversations would go something like this:

Me: Hey, they would love Unitarianism. You should tell them about it.

Gary: They know about it.

Me: You should tell them more. You should tell them to come to a service.

Gary: I don't want to be creepy.

(long awkward pause)

Me: We need better elevator speeches.

So, this conversation happened a couple of years ago, and not much has gone on since. The group of six has been meeting regularly, enjoying themselves, and continuing on completely oblivious to my religious direction. Last summer, Gary and I started asking ourselves some hard questions about what it means to live out our Unitarian values. This fall, we un-plated the Mercedes, and Gary started riding his bike to work--through minus thirty temperatures, snow, sleet, and so on. At work, he was met with an "are you insane?" reception from the other doctors. He was surprised by this--we're used to Unitarians, who bike and walk everywhere, and who's insanity is widely acknowledged. We watch them pare down their vehicle needs, buy solar panels, and take on social justice issues. It was Unitarians who took us aside when the housing crisis hit Saskatoon and gently pointed out that we have way more space in our house than we really need.

In the last month or two, Gary's friends have been asking him questions again. They know a lot, it seems, about Unitarianism--they've been reading about it online. It's led to some interesting discussions. A lot of people are asking questions. I don't know if any of them will come to church, but in the last couple of years I've mellowed enough that this doesn't matter to me so much. I want the people who need us to know that we exist, but once they do... I'm less concerned with my religion's power to change others--and trying to focus more on its power to change me.

I remember how when I first found Unitarianism, I was relieved. I thought it would be simple. I was mystified by my husband's attitude, when he initially refused to join the congregation.

"But this is a perfect fit!" I declared. "What could be easier?"

"When I join a religion," he answered, "I don't look for it to be easy."

Gary doesn't have an elevator speech. But if he did, I imagine it would go something like this: "My religion challenges me. It challenges me to think through and define my values and to live up to them. It helps me steer clear of the easy outs--of accepting someone else's plan for my life, or of drifting through life without a moral compass. It holds me accountable for living the life I believe to be right."

Gary doesn't have an elevator speech--but he's working on an elevator life.