I first heard the words from Connie Goodbread. I’ve heard them many times since. You’ve heard them, too: Everything we do is faith development. Everything we teach is Unitarian Universalism. The congregation is the curriculum.

In our brains, though—in our memory and experience—we may think of religious education or faith formation differently. We think of a classroom. Assigned reading. Maybe, if we are cutting-edge or innovative, a video.
Maybe we think of being given space to talk about what we think of the material. How it aligns or conflicts with our solid-state theology. And maybe we think of allowing space for other people to talk about what they think. Even if their opinions disagree with our own. Then we go about our lives with our individual thoughts and philosophies and practices, feeling good that we had space to talk and listen.
And then there are those rare occasions when we change our perspectives. Someone says something in a TED Talk (an expert who really seems to know what they’re talking about), and we suddenly shift. We start seeing the world or other people or ourselves a little differently. Maybe we even start behaving a little differently. We adopt new habits. We genuinely let go of things that no longer serve us, as we so often claim to do.
It feels somehow more intimidating to embrace this philosophy of faith development, though. Everything we do is faith development. Everything we teach is Unitarian Universalism. The congregation is the curriculum. There’s no off button. There’s no end of the video. There’s no point at which we return to our solid-state, unaffected, hard-won perspectives and feel good about having listened to another human being say things that made us bristle. There’s no container. Faith development just spills out all over the place.
Except that there is a container.
Us.
We are the container. Whenever we gather, in whatever congregationally connected form it takes, we become the container for one another’s faith development. Or a piece of it at least. And we can be unconscious containers or intentional containers. We can inadvertently teach things that have nothing to do with our values, or we can invite our spiritual identities into our connections.
So, what is adult faith development if it isn’t exclusively reading or watching a thing and thinking deep thoughts and sharing those deep thoughts with one another? Because it could be that. But it isn’t only that. Not if all we do is faith development and the congregation is the curriculum.
Coffee hour is faith development. How do we make covenantal space for others? How do we practice radical hospitality? How do we ask for what we need and receive gratefully from one another?
Committee meetings are faith development. How do we center our values rather than get swallowed up by a vortex of productivity and scarcity thinking? How do we honor our interdependence and generously invite liberating love into our collaborative work? How do we embrace our service to one another as a spiritual practice rather than something separate from our spiritual lives?
How we invite others to share the work of the congregation is faith development. How we offer care or food or rides is faith development. How we speak about other congregants when they aren’t around is faith development. How we tend our common spaces is faith development. Everything we do. Everything we do is faith development. Everything.
What can this mean?
What can this mean for us?
What can this mean for you?