In our service recognizing new members last November, the topic of my address was "The Meaning of Membership." Today, I want to explore a little more broadly the meaning of our relationship to one another, within and outside this congregation, and to contemplate the question of what we expect of each other in general terms -- that is, not only as people with specific tasks and roles in the church but as human beings trying to live together in the world.

Why should we expect anything of each other? That may sound like an outrageous or rhetorical question, but I think it's one which needs to be asked. In one of my favourite source books, known as the Bible, there's a big question, which Cain asks God in the story of the first murder, and it's very closely related to today's topic, I think. Cain asks, "Am I my brother's keeper?" ["Do I have responsibility for my brother?"] Some philosophers have given or implied a very different answer to that question than the one implied by Soren Kierkegaard, from whom I read. They have said, "No, you are not your brother's keeper. Nature is based on the survival of the fittest individual, and to be in harmony with nature means to be the strongest, most self-sufficient human being possible." The truest ethics, say some, are based on individualism, and that means we really can't expect anything of each other, or at least not anything very good.

Perhaps if Abel had asked a question, rather than Cain, it might have been, "What can I expect of you, brother Cain?" and we can guess that he would hope the answer wouldn't be murder! If we are not each our brother's keeper, that is, if we don't have any responsibility towards one another, then we can't reasonably expect anything of one another except to be trampled on at every opportunity in a dog-eat-dog world of struggling for survival. But if we are keepers and tenders of each other, it puts a whole different complexion on things. It's often said that rights entail responsibilities. I think the reverse is equally true: if we are responsible for each other, then we have certain rights, certain expectations that we can reasonably hold for other people's behaviour. Abel could reasonably have expected something better of Cain than to be killed by him -- and apparently without warning or explanation!.

All of the major philosophers have tried to answer the question of how people ought to live together and what they can hope for from each other. The great eighteenth century German thinker, Immanuel Kant, was very strong on reason as the basis for how we think and act and what we can expect of each other. Kant said that each one of our actions should be judged according to whether it would work on a universal scale -- not just in this one case but in all cases. He gave an example which is interesting to apply to our own situations. Kant says,

May I, when in distress, make a promise with the intention not to keep it? Considerations of prudence aside, would such an act be moral? The shortest way to answer this question is to ask, "Would I be content that the principle (getting out of difficulties by making false promises) should hold good as a universal law, for myself and all other?"

If I ask, "Can the principle of making deceitful promises to get out of difficulties be universalized?" I realize that it cannot. For with such a law there would be no promises at all. With such a principle made universal, it would be in vain to allege my intentions in regard to future actions. As soon as it were made a universal law, the principle would necessarily destroy itself, necessarily defeat its own end.

A man finds himself forced to borrow money. He knows that he will not be able to repay it, but he sees also that nothing will be lent to him unless he promises to repay it. Would it be right to promise? The principle of his action would be: When in need, to borrow and promise to repay, knowing that I cannot do so. Could this principle become a universal law? I see at once that it could not. As a universal law, it would contradict itself. For if this principle were a universal law, such promises would become impossible. For no one would consider such promises as binding, and all would ridicule them as vain pretenses.

Well, that's Kant's theory of what we should reasonably expect of each other: we should expect everyone to do what would be good for everyone if everyone did it. Great. Very helpful. The problem with this, as with so many ethical theories, is that they're concerned with how people should act rather than with how they actually do. It's like saying that we should act as citizens of the world: world community is an ideal, but we can't in fact reasonably expect equal treatment from all countries in the world, because it's an ideal which hasn't been reached.

So what can we expect of each other? Not the same things from everyone, of course. Let's just consider three groupings of people and what we might reasonably expect from them: society at large ....... those close to us ....... and this congregation. Obviously there's some overlap and fuzzy boundaries, as always, but I think our expectations have to be different with each of these groups, and it may help to look at the differences, because we sometimes make the mistake of expecting the wrong things by confusing the groups.

How is it reasonable for society at large (and let's limit it to Canada, since this is our social context) to behave towards us? What can we expect from acquaintances, business associates, tradespeople, everyone with whom we interact who's not a family member or a friend? I suggest that we can reasonably expect adherence to the law of the land -- and that's all! The law of this country represents everything we've agreed to, through our representatives, as the ways that people should behave, or -- if we haven't agreed to them, we've still become bound by them just by being Canadian citizens. We can not just hope, but actually demand, that everyone with whom we have any dealings at all sticks to the law. But I don't think we can expect anything else, and I believe that a lot of disappointment and wasted indignation results from expecting more. I'll explain why I think this, and I also want to say that, on the positive side, I've found it a marvellous bonus that people generally do so much more than we can expect of them by this standard. Some people even love us -- something never to be expected, always a bonus!

Canada is a multicultural society. It's made up of people with origins in just about every country of the world, and from just about every socio-economic class, religion and ideology imaginable. As a country, we don't ask any of our citizens to give up their background and upbringing or outlook and behaviour. Now, I know there are different views on this fact within this congregation, and some of you may like the melting-pot philosophy better than the cultural mosaic philosophy, but the fact is that Canadians can maintain whatever cultural identity they choose; we don't have to melt, or assimilate, or conform, except to the law. So if we expect that our neighbour, or local shopkeeper, or our child's teacher, or hospital nurse, should be like us -- should smile at the same things we do, or observe the same customs of politeness, or wear the same kinds of clothes or eat the same kinds of foods, or have the same attitude to history or to other ethnic groups or to politics, we're doomed to disappointment and a kind of low-grade fever of irritation which is not conducive to mental health, I think.

In case what I've said seems either too obvious or too vague, let me illustrate from my own experience. As you may know, I love gardening. Now gardening is a very broad area of interest, which ranges from growing exotic indoor plants to landscaping large areas. Even within the special interests, there are many styles. Because I grew up in a certain area of England, in a particular kind of house, with a father who grew certain kinds of flowers, I have a certain vision of how I would like my garden to look (eventually at least; it'll take a few years!) And when I see other styles of gardening, or ways of landscaping, or vegetables where I would want shrubs, or wishing wells where I would want wildflowers, or paved front yards where I'd like groundcover, it's easy for me to get frustrated, because I'd really like my whole neighbourhood to conform to my idea of what's beautiful. But it's totally unreasonable and unproductive of me to expect this. People are different, and the law (very wisely, I think) has little to say about style or beauty, beyond upholding health regulations and some very minimal prohibitions on gross eyesores. I can't expect someone else to be like me.

I've probably chosen an example you can all agree to, because not very many people are deeply bothered by flamingoes on the lawn. But what about the equally minor matter of dress and appearance? Can I reasonably expect that my Sikh neighbour and his son will give up wearing their turbans if they want to attend the local school or be a member of the Legion or the RCMP? Personally, I don't think so, any more than I can expect them to enjoy a good roast beef dinner. People are different, and we can't expect them to change to please us. Even if their manners are atrocious by our standards; even if we're deeply offended by their insistence on teaching their children that Jesus is the only way to be saved from hell; even if they drink too much, and vote Communist or Reform Party, and give us bad advice which makes us lose money on the stock market -- people are the way they are, and we can't expect them to change.

This theme of not expecting change is even more important when we consider the second group of people, I think, because when it comes to friends and family, those close to us, we tend to want change more urgently and emotionally. Anyone who's involved in doing marriage counselling or interpersonal therapy of any kind knows that the wish that's expressed over and over again is that the spouse or friend or parent will be different, that they'll change in some way. I was in therapy myself at various times, and I used to think all my troubles would be solved if only my husband or children or someone else were different. Well, maybe so, but they weren't going to change, and it was only when I came to terms with this and started thinking about the changes I could make in myself that there was any hope for a more healthy way of living for me.

I think we can expect a bit more of our friends and family than that they'll simply abide by the law, but we can't expect them to change. Let me say it again, so you don't have any doubt where I stand on this. We can't expect them to change. And then I immediately have to qualify it: in the case of young children, we probably can expect, or at least hope for, some change, both as the result of normal development and as a result of good nurturing and education. But change becomes less and less likely as children grow up, and by the time people are adults, I think it's a good rule that we can't expect them to change. This isn't to say that change is impossible, or even unlikely, but it's not something we can require of someone else. You probably all know the answer to "How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?" "Only one, but it has to want to change."

I said we could expect more of family and friends than being law-abiding. They probably don't need to change their personalities in order to give us the three things which make for a decent way of life: honesty, respect, and fairness. If these things aren't forthcoming, and if our relative or friend doesn't want to change enough to make them possible, then it's probably time to consider breaking the relationship. Honesty is vital, I think, because a relationship based on deception is false and sick. But honesty, like so much else, is in the eye of the beholder, and we can't even expect others to conform to our own understanding of truth-telling. Some people think it's a lie if you say you're fine when you're actually slightly tired. Others think it's true if you say the cheque's in the mail when you really do intend to get it into the mail very soon. If you find out what your friend's or spouse's bottom line is, then I think you can reasonably expect that from them.

Respect is rather like honesty in being subjective. If my general style of relating to people is casual or teasing, it may not be at all disrespectful for me to say things to you which would be totally unacceptable from other people. And so often we don't know how we're perceived: if you think someone is being inconsiderate towards you, even someone close who you think ought to realize they're hurting you, I think it's a good idea to check it out with them, so they know what you expect. They may not know. Very few of us are psychic, but most of us seem to expect others to be mind-readers.

And fairness is another thing that's often misunderstood by the people concerned. If you don't think it's fair that you have to manage the money in your family and the other person just gets to spend it, it makes sense to make sure your partner realizes you don't see control of the finances as a privilege. Don't assume these things are crystal clear; they're probably really murky in the other person's mind. We all have different ways of seeing, and only when we've been clear about what we need can we reasonably expect it from each other, I think.

In case I sound preachy, please keep in mind three things through all this: I'm giving advice to myself at least as much as to you; I don't expect or require change from any of you, and all the foregoing has been leading up to what I think is most important: what we can expect of each other here in the First Unitarian Congregation of Waterloo. We can, of course, expect at least as much of each other here as we do from society at large. That is, we certainly can expect that we'll all abide by the law -- in this case, not just the law of the land but the by-laws of this congregation. (If you don't know what they are, ask one of the Board members to show you a copy.) We can expect honesty from each other, too, remembering that no two people understand that in exactly the same way. Let's be as open and honest as we possibly can be with one another; let's expect that truthfulness of each other.

And if that's not enough, our decision to be part of this congregation means that we commit to supporting our principles and purposes, with our energy, commitment and resources. We can expect that everyone here will share the attempt with us, in whatever way they're able -- and only each of you knows what you can do. Even more, we can reasonably expect that people here will care about us. Again, we can't prescribe for anyone else what form that caring will take, but we can expect that we'll be more like friends and family than strangers to each other. In addition -- and this is what makes this group of people different from society at large and even from our own families -- we can expect that the people in this congregation will change! Change is what happens when you seek the truth and try to live well. Oh, it may not be exactly the change we'd choose for them, but people will change here. We can expect it of each other.

There's a more personal and less general question which I'd like to consider in ending. That is, what can I expect of you, and what can you expect of me? We're coming to the end of my first year in this ministry with you, and it's been more than half a year since my talks to you about what I understand as the meaning of ministry and membership. It's not too soon to revisit the subject with you all, as I do regularly with the Committee on Ministry. I know I can't expect that you'll be persuaded to my way of thinking about anything. I can't and don't expect that you will work harder, attend more regularly, get more involved or care about the same things I do. I can expect, I think, that you'll abide by our covenant, seeking truth and living bravely and kindly, and I expect also that you'll be as honest as you possibly can be with me. I expect, too, that you'll change -- not necessarily in the ways that I'd choose or predict, but in the ways that follow from your search for truth and brave, kindly living. What more could I possibly hope for?

And what can you expect from me? You can expect that I, too, will abide by our covenant to the very best of my ability. I will continue to seek the truth and to find ways of being more responsible and courageous, ways to be of service to some small extent to that vast organism known as humanity -- and perhaps to non-human nature besides, especially in my garden! And you can, I promise you, expect me to be honest. My honesty may not always be quite the same as yours, of course; I don't promise that I'll always say everything I'm thinking -- after all, I talk too much already. But as far as I possibly can I will be true to who I am. I'll listen to you, and try hard to understand you, and avoid as many of your verbal allergies as I can. I know I'll continue to learn from you as I've been learning ever since arriving, and I trust I'll change as I learn, but I may not change the way you want me to. I won't pretend to be other than I am, or hide what I believe.

More than once I've quoted my hero, Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said that the minister's job is to give the congregation her "life, passed through the fire of thought". You can expect of me that I'll continue to do that. And I love doing it, from the pulpit, in our dialogues and visits and social encounters and learning times. But here's one more thing you can expect, because I've been persuaded that most of you want it: I may not always be successful, but I'll try hard to finish our services by 11.30, or 11.40 at the latest -- so I'd better stop now! But for your part, do please try to find time to tell me what you need from me and keep the conversations going; it's what we can expect of each other.