When my kids were little, because I am a control freak, and because they had a story of trauma and loss that required a therapeutic level of consistency, there were routines.

Routines at bedtime.  Routines at bath time.  Routines for quiet time in the early afternoon, even if you don’t nap and aren’t tired, because Mommy needs – NEEDS – you to be quiet and safe in your room while she has her time to herself in a different room.  Routines about household chores.  Attempted routines around expressed gratitude before the evening meal. Etcetera.

And there were rules.

One of the more unusual rules was permission to swear.  This has nothing to do with therapeutic intention or healing presence.  This has everything to do with their particular mother – me – and my presence in the world, my belief that words like “shit,” and “f*ck,” and a bevy of others add color and texture to life.  Because who wants to live in a world without color and texture?

Like every rule, there are exceptions.  In the case of the permission-to-swear rule, there are two restrictions:

• You may not swear at school, except with your friends outside of class.
• You may not swear AT someone.  For example, it’s okay to say “I’m so pissed off,” but it’s not okay to say to someone, “piss off.”

Turns out, there is some sage advice on the persuasive power of swearing — about how to use swearing in ways that intensify, and thereby communicate more effectively, your point.  Of course, it involves moderation.

In my youth and early adult years, there might be observed a mild pattern of rule breaking.  Certainly, my parents found me to be a rule breaker during high school, but I think there is some disagreement about the nature of those choices.

In college, much of my rule breaking (or stretching) was motivated by social justice and political activism.  Courting arrest.  Actual arrest.  Graffiti.  Dating both boys and girls.

I am a firm believer that before breaking rules, one must first learn them.  And the rationale behind them.   And the rationale behind why one is breaking them.  And the consequences for doing either breaking or obeying.

Recently I listened to an interview (this is the video version) with the Lutheran minister, Nadia Bolz-Weber.  She founded the House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver.  It started with eight people in her living room and has grown to a wildly-diverse community of hundreds.

Nadia’s presence is quite formidable. And enticing.  And provocative.

As is the substance of what she says and does.    Little nuggets of her wisdom continue to surface in my consciousness.  I find myself passing these on or letting them resonate within me:

• “I always try to preach from my scars and not my wounds.”

That one will end up its own blog post.  And…

• “I really feel strongly that you have to be deeply rooted in tradition in order to innovate with integrity.”

This is about knowing the rules – or in my case, learning them – in order to embrace them or to break them, both acts of possible integrity.    In the case of House for All Sinners and Saints, this has meant that they end up with a chocolate fountain in their baptismal fount.

We don’t all have the same level of dedication or comfort with either depth of rootedness in tradition, or in innovation and change.  Whereas I may be comfortable removing a cross from worship space – and in fact, feel it is necessary to be welcoming – you may feel it is of the utmost necessity to retain for the exact same reasons.

For Unitarian Universalists, where our margins hold our center, with our covenant amid myriad beliefs, I think this means that we must be deeply rooted in a spiritual practice/discipline, must commit ourselves to an intentional spiritual seeking, in order to continue on our journey of spiritual and religious innovation.

For some people, breaking rules is an ends onto itself.  Just like being mistrustful of any authority or leadership – it is just how some people are and they feel justified and even noble in this resistance.   In any UU congregation, you can see strains of this – either in collections of people or in particular individual personalities.

My wish for my children has always been that they choose to break rules not for selfish gain, or gratuitous hedonism, or god forbid — mindless habit — but for greater good.  I would say to each of them, “If you are ever inclined to deface public property through the act of graffiti, I hope it will be to raise awareness or in protest of some great injustice.   If that’s the case, I will be at your side, even as you are being arraigned at the local county courthouse.  Otherwise, you just might be spending an overnight in jail.”

It is my hope that we, as covenanted people, can bring more intention and reflection to such actions – that if we are going to break rules, or innovate traditions, we do so paying attention to our roots, as we grow our new wings.  Both/and.