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Lee Legault, Ministerial Intern
December 1, 2019
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org
We experience the world differently. Those of us journeying life neuro-typically and with ableist privilege too often hold this truth abstractly and at a distance. Let us hold the truth of neuro-physical diversity closely and tenderly to transform worship and build the Beloved Community.
Chalice Lighting
As we await the return of the light, we kindle the flame of Transcendence, the first of the five values of our congregation. We are in awe at each glimpse of the Oneness of everything, the great truth that lives deep within ourselves and reaches to the farthest ends of the Universe.
Call to Worship
by William F. Schulz
This is the mission of our faith:
To teach the fragile art of hospitality;
To revere both the critical mind and the generous heart;
To prove that diversity need not mean divisiveness;
And to witness to all that we must hold the whole world in our hands.
Affirming Our Mission
Together we nourish souls, transform lives, and do justice to build the Beloved Community.
Moment for Beloved Community
This moment comes from American feminist scholar – and white woman – Peggy McIntosh. She wrote an engaging and convicting essay called “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.” In it she says, “White privilege is like an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools, and blank checks.”
In unpacking this invisible knapsack, she lists conditions of daily experience that she once took for granted because of her whiteness. Here are three that stood out for me because I’m raising three, white UU young people:
- I can arrange to protect my children most of the time from people who might not like them.
- I do not have to educate my children to be aware of systemic racism for their own daily physical protection.
- I can be pretty sure that my children’s teachers and employers will tolerate them if they fit school and workplace norms; my chief worries about them do not concern others’ attitudes toward their race.
She lists 50 items in the knapsack of white privilege. I invite you to explore her full essay on the website www.racialequitytools.org
Meditation Reading
YOUR BODY IS WELCOME HERE
by Rev. Sean Neil-BarronYour body is welcome here, all of it.
Yes, even that part. And that part. And yes, even that part.
The parts you love, and the parts you don’t.For in this place we come with all that we are,
All that we have been,
And all that we are going to be.Our bodies are constantly changing, cells die and cells are reborn
We respond to infections and disease
Sometimes we can divorce them from our bodies,
and other times they become permanently part of us.Your body and all that is within it,
both wanted and not wanted, has a place here.
Our bodies join in a web of co-creation,
created and creating.Constantly changing, constantly changing us
Scarred and tattooed, tense and relaxed
Diseased and cured, unfamiliar and intimate
Formed in infinite diversity of creation
Your body is welcome here, all of it.So take a moment and welcome it
Take a moment to feel in it.
Take a moment, to be in it.
Sermon
My Thanksgivings
When I think back to when I first internalized that people experience the world differently, I would say it was Thanksgivings at my grandparents’ house in Corpus Christi. My grandparents hosted seven or more family members in their small townhouse, so we got cozy, and I always looked forward to spending a couple of nights together.
I usually got to sleep on something other than a bed, and when I was little that felt like an awesome adventure. Would I get one of the couches? Maybe the air mattress?
As I drifted off to sleep, I fondly remember hearing my mom and my aunt whispering urgently to one another. It was always about the same thing: the thermostat.
My granddad kept the thermometer set to 78 at night. He slept in pajamas with long sleeves and long pants; he wore fleecy house slippers. My mom and my aunt were what we called hot-natured and that made them susceptible to “sweltering in the night,” which is why they kept their thermostats at 68 at night in their houses.
At Thanksgiving, my mom and aunt would wait about thirty minutes after my grandparents had gone to bed. Then they would hover about the thermostat debating how low they could turn it without the air conditioning waking my granddad up. My aunt always got up super early in the morning to “put her face on” before anyone saw her naked visage, so she would change it back to 78 before my granddad noticed.
I was pretty much impervious to temperature as a kid. I slept fine no matter where the thermostat ended up, but I could see at Thanksgiving that other people experienced the environment differently than I did ….
Now in addition to a fun story about my family at Thanksgiving, I have just given you some important, unspoken information: I carry able-bodied, neurotypical privilege. Like white privilege, able-bodied privilege is often invisible or unknown to those who have it, because they have the luxury of drifting through life oblivious to their role in an oppressive system. Able-bodied privilege is how I made it through childhood only aware once-a-year at Thanksgiving that people experience their physical environments differently.
Like white privilege perpetuates racism, able-bodied privilege perpetuates ableism. Ableism creates an unwelcoming environment for many, many people.
I was reminded of my able-bodied privilege last month when I got a mild concussion. I was unpacking luggage in a hotel and when I raised up I banged the heck out of my head on the open door of the hotel safe. Today I am back to my own normal, but for about a month, I experienced the world differently. I had trouble focusing, and my memory was unreliable. I fatigued easily and had to pare down my schedule to get enough rest. I got overwhelmed by sensory stimulation. I felt anxious in social situations because I was not sure what would come out of my mouth, or if I would be able to keep up with what was going on around me. These symptoms temporarily changed the way I lived my life and very much changed the way I experienced worship.
Vocabulary
The Accessibility Guidelines for Unitarian Universalist Congregations define a disability as a physical or mental challenge that substantially limits one or more major life activities. There are times when using the word “disability” makes sense, but being a welcoming congregation requires openness to moving beyond binary labels. UU Minister Teresa Soto, who identifies as a disabled person, reminds us that “disability isn’t medical when it comes to being in community. It’s ‘an experience’.”
Two emerging terms reframe the medical model of disability, and cast all of us along a spectrum of physical and mental differences. These two words – neurodiversity and bodily diversity – respect differences in neurological and bodily realities as variations in a shared human experience. Importantly, neurodiversity and bodily diversity are neutral words, that emphasize that we are all in relationship, working it out together. Here’s a sample sentence for neurodiversity: AcknowLedging her son’s attention deficit disorder as neurodiverse means that she understands he approaches time and organization differently than she does – and he is often more creative and innovative than she.
Things not to say
A few more words about diction because words shape and reveal attitudes. Words matter for welcoming.
A “handicap” is not a description of a person. It is a barrier that society places on a person with a disability. So it would be appropriate to say, “Stairs will be a handicap for John, who uses a wheelchair.” It would not be appropriate to say, “John is handicapped and can’t use the stairs.” It should go without saying, but do not refer to someone BY disability.
Here is a poignant anecdote from Reverend Soto:
“Very often people call me ‘wheelchair.’ You would think: that wouldn’t happen, but it does. The bus driver will say, the wheelchair is getting off here. Well, I’m hoping to go with it. So because people call me a wheelchair sometimes, I prefer to call myself a person with a disability.”
I apologize that these next few words are coming out of my mouth, but I want to be explicit about this from the pulpit. Drop the following descriptors from your vocabulary of neuro and bodily diversity: crippled, crazy, retarded, dumb, shut-in, invalid, sufferer, or victim. Those words do harm: reinforcing stereotypes, creating false narratives, and disseminating disinformation.
Neurodiverse testimonies
Theologically, mindfulness of neuro and bodily diversity is a way to practice our first and seventh principles: the inherent worth and dignity of every person, and the interconnected web of existence of which we are a part. Theologically, welcoming does not mean adapting the existing system for a few; it means the many shake up their attitudes and their way of thinking to make room for every whole person who might be in the room–their needs And their gifts. Theologically, welcoming means relying on our second source: Words and deeds of prophetic people which challenge us to confront powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion, and the transforming power of love. Specifically, we need to listen to those among us — like Reverend Soto — willing to offer the wisdom of their lived experience that we all may grow spiritually.
Another of these prophetic people is Ramon Selove, a Unitarian Universalist from Virginia who teaches biology, identifies as autistic, and trains congregations on best practices for welcoming people with autism. He wrote about neurodiversity in worship in a piece called “Preventable Suffering: A UU With Autism Confronts Coffee Hour.” He says:
Meeting people, touching people, and general noise levels during and after a worship service can be real problems for me and others with autism. During services, just when things have quieted down and we are getting into the rhythm of the service, our minister asks us to stop and greet each other, shake hands, etc. It then takes the congregation a while to calm down again and get back into the service. I personally find that break disruptive. I really wish we wouldn’t do it at all.
It is stressful for me to be in the presence of a large number of people and it is much worse when many conversations are going on at the same time. I sometimes come to church late so that I can avoid all the conversations that occur prior to the service. At the end of the service I usually remain in the seats instead of going to the “social area.” Sometimes people come to talk to me (which I appreciate very much) and sometimes I just sit alone.
Welcoming Practices
First UU of Austin already has in place some of the best practices for a neuro and bodily diverse worship, like our quiet room with a window into the sanctuary, the choice of listening to the service from the fellowship hall, the large-print orders of service, streaming the service on Facebook, and the hearing loop system, among other things.
There is more to do, and that is all right. Let’s ask ourselves as a community of neuro and bodily diverse people: How could we do this better? If we can’t do it today, how can we work towards it and what would it take to do it in the future? We welcome discussion and suggestions. Let us know how to welcome you.
Reverend Helen McFadyen, coordinator of the UU Accessibility and Inclusion ministry, notes that true inclusion and welcome take sustained commitment, and that some of the most important changes are attitudinal.
One step we can all take, beginning today, is to make welcoming a spiritual practice. Some of our middle school youth are learning how to do this as part of their Crossing Paths RE curriculum. I offer you the Eight Practices of Welcoming that they are learning:
- Be fully present
- Be curious
- Be open to being changed
- Be comfortable with discomfort
- Be an appreciative listener
- Be light-hearted
- Be gentle
- Be yourself
Return to Thanksgiving and link church to sanctuary
At bottom, hospitality and welcome are not about social graces. They are about seeing the divine in every person. They are about Mutual Reverence. We call the room we are all in together right now “The Sanctuary.” “Sanctuary” can mean simply a place that a person can go to avoid harm. But it is more than that. The word “sanctuary” comes from “sanctus,” which is the latin word for “holy.” Let us make this place holy for all who seek it.
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