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Rev. Chris Jimmerson
Bear Qolezcua
July 7, 2019
First UU Church of Austin
4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756
www.austinuu.org
We often think of perseverance as being strong, having grit, to keep pushing forward even against difficult obstacles. Perhaps though, perseverance also requires a time for rest and spiritual renewal, being vulnerable enough to acknowledge that we need help sometimes and need others to carry the burden for a bit while we do the things that restore us.
Call to Worship
STILL I RISE
by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise.
Reading
– Aimee Van Ausdall
This morning I have been pondering a nearly forgotten lesson I learned in high school music. Sometimes in band or choir, music requires players or singers to hold a note longer than they actually can hold a note. In those cases, we were taught to mindfully stagger when we took a breath so the sound appeared uninterrupted. Everyone got to breathe, and the music stayed strong and vibrant… So let’s remember the advice of music: Take a breath. The rest of the chorus will sing. The rest of the band will play. Rejoin so others can breathe. Together, we can sustain a very long, beautiful song for a very, very long time. You don’t have to do it all, but you must add your voice to the song.
Bear Qolezcua
THE LIGHTHOUSE AND THE LITTLE BLUE BOAT
Once upon a time there was a mighty lighthouse. The tower had a broad base and a bright pink stripe spiraled up its body. The house that sat beneath it was always warm and inviting, its furnishings roughhewn but cosy. The smell of lemons, cinnamon, and vanilla swarmed around its great hearth.
The lighthouse sat on a very old bay. For many years it oversaw the sea and swells as storms came and went, crashing over the shore and snarling at the tower with great blows. The lighthouse survived each one but even though sometimes a window might be broken or the tower would be scarred and chipped, it continued to be a beacon of safety and strength.
Time passed and the sea changed. Parts of the surrounding bay got deeper, and others more shallow. Jagged boulders were upended in the distance to form a sea wall. They created a gentle pool beneath the watchful tower of the lighthouse. The jags were dangerous and dark, making the lighthouse’s job more important than ever.
After some years, the dry dock beneath the tower was opened and a little blue boat was taken from it and put into the water. The lighthouse loved its little blue boat. It was squeaky and small but safe and dependable.
It stayed afloat even when the ocean swelled and threatened it or when it found itself being pushed to the craggy breaks and jags out at sea. The little boat served its purpose well, no matter the gales against it, as it rescued many who were lost in the water, bringing them safely to shore without fail.
Once, the little blue boat’s oars fell off and it was swept quickly into a current, unable to find its way home. It discovered many dark places in the sea, some were far more dangerous than the jags the boat had avoided so well in its bay. A kind young woman discovered the boat, trapped in mangrove roots along a river inlet. She gave it new oars and asked nothing in return. She wished the little boat farewell and the somewhat scuffed and marred vessel made its way back home.
On a frosty winter morning, the lighthouse found it had a crack in its foundation. Many tried to mend the damage but it could not be repaired. The lighthouse resigned itself to shining brightly as long as it could. Years later the foundation broke and the light faded. The lighthouse fell.
The kerosene lantern used to light the tower spilled fuel and flame, the woodwork burned to ash, leaving only chipped, bare stones in a pile on the shore.
The little blue boat sailed off into the sea, not knowing which way to turn. It did not rescue others from the waters because it was scared of not having a safe place to take them when it had no safe place to go itself. It became so very lost in the great sea that it couldn’t find the shore at all. It stopped looking at all, fearing more jags, more fire, from any shore to which it might come.
By chance, the boat happened upon the familiar rocky breaks of the sea wall it once knew. More rocks had been upended and the bay was cut off from the outside. The little blue boat looked through whatever cracks and faults it could find and saw that the shore had changed much more. The pile of rubble still on the land, buried under a thin layer of mud and sand. The little blue boat stayed there for so long it forgot how many moons passed.
Workers with noisy machines came and cleared the fallen building, they gathered and buried the ashes of the tower’s frame. Nothing was left but the Ebenezer stone bearing the name of the original overseer. The little blue boat wished to be closer and see more but it could go no farther in the water.
The loss of the lighthouse left the boat scared to return to the open sea and so it stayed stuck along the jags for years, letting them cut at it, scuff it, and wear parts of it so thin they threatened to break open where the sea water would overtake the boat and claim it in the depths.
Some young people found the little boat while out on the water and two got into it. They asked the boat to take them back home and the boat did, having nothing else to do with its time. The boat lingered on their shore, resting from the great jags and storms. With time, many came and repaired the boat, patching weak spots, strengthening it and protecting it.
This rest ended one day when a great ship passed nearby the boat and caught itself in a shoal too shallow for the ship to make. It slowed and began to capsize. The passengers and crew were in danger as the ship yawed toward the water. Some made it to rescue boats but many were thrown dangerously into the cold dark waters out at sea. They cried for help but none seemed to come from the lifeboats surrounding the ship. Many of which had already made it to shore.
The little blue boat heard them crying out but it felt so afraid. It was unsure about the mended parts of its body, worrying if it would be strong enough and whole enough to be able to once again carry the weight of others within. It decided that with the rest it had received it must at least try and floated quickly over to passengers in the water, taking them on board and delivering them safely to the shore, many times over it did this until none were left in the water. It discovered that it saved itself by caring for others who needed only the safety of a lifeboat.
Having once again found its purpose, the little blue boat sailed off into the sea knowing the currents and sea walls would never allow it to return to its bay. Because of its time of rest and repairs, the little boat carried the strength and endurance of its lighthouse within, once again bringing hope and safety to passengers and ships in peril.
Chris Jimmerson
When my mom was 67 years old, she wrecked her Harley Davidson motorcycle.
She slid off the road on a sharp curve in the hills of the East Texas pine forest and skidded sideways across several dozen feet.
She broke her nose, scraped the skin off of both arms and broke seven vertebrae in her lower and mid back.
The emergency responders had to take her by life flight to a hospital that was over an hour and a half away from where the accident had happened.
We were not sure she would survive.
The neurosurgeon who took care of her back injuries had to use screws to attach two metal rods on each side of her spinal column.
It is still a lot of fun to go through airport security with her even today.
I asked her permission to tell you the story of her accident and her recovery from it this morning, because I think I learned about perseverance from it.
My mom survived the accident and then persevered through first a rehabilitation hospital and then outpatient physical therapy, yes, partially through her own grit and determination. She drew upon her own religious faith and spiritual practices.
Also though, she had a whole host of loved ones who stayed with her and supported her through those times.
My step-father, Ty, took care of her when she was not physically capable of caring for herself.
Her children and other family members chipped in too. Along with a whole host of friends, we brought them meals, helped with chores and errands, provided rides to where she needed to go, gave her emotional support and sounded a resounding chorus of “no” when she wanted to get back on a motorcycle again before she was even fully healed. Today at age 78, my mom no longer rides a Harley, but she does have an open air go-cart in which she zooms around her neighborhood at altogether alarming rates of speed.
So perseverance, our ability to survive and sometimes even thrive through adversity, has both an individualistic component and a communal aspect.
We persevere through our own grit and determination, yes. And science has shown that we can cultivate this tenacity and resilience through spiritual practices, religious faith, remaining open to humor beauty, joy, grief, embracing gratitude and forgiveness and practicing self-compassion. But, we also need community. We need love and support to fully develop our perseverance.
We find greater strength, power and sustenance communally.
So, our religious community here at First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin can help us all maintain our spiritual perseverance.
We need each other and so many more if we are to persevere against the assaults on human rights and dignity; the degradation and potential destruction of life and our planet we are witnessing in these times.
Sometimes we have to vulnerable enough to admit that we need help and be willing ask for it.
Sometimes, to be able to persevere in the long run, we need to set the burden of our struggles down and let others carry them for a while. We just need a pause – a respite – a time to simply take care of ourselves and our nearest loved ones. We need this in order to be able to build up the resilience that is so necessary for perseverance.
And yet, it is more complicated than that even, because those of us with relative privilege can more easily retreat from the struggle than those who are being crushed under the weight of extreme oppression and maltreatment. We must not allow ourselves to fall prey to the lie that we can look away permanently, because in the end, as Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King wrote, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhereÉWhatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
This past week, we witnessed the juxtaposition of the celebration of our country’s Independence day (and all the values it is supposed to represent) with the Department of Homeland Security’s own Inspector General’s report on “Dangerous Overcrowding and Prolonged Detention of Children and Adults” at five Customs and Border Protection holding facilities here in Texas.
These are supposed to be temporary holding facilities at the border, and yet in these 5 facilities alone, the Office of the Inspector General found:
- 8,000 detainees in custody with almost half held greater than the time period allowed by law.
- 2,669 children, 826 held longer than the law allows, 50 younger than 7.
- Children and adults sleeping on concrete floors with no access to showers, limited or no changes of clothing and no hot meals.
- Adults held in over-crowded, sometimes standing room only conditions, some for over a month.
- Adults who had gotten sick after being fed only bologna sandwiches.
- Once facility was basically outdoor cages that had been constructed under a bridge in the outdoor heat of El Paso.
These are just some of the conditions that have been observed. These are only the border facilities and do not include conditions at longer term prison camps maintained by Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
I am dismayed that my country is doing this (AGAIN) – horrified that it is happening in my state. I can only imagine how painful witnessing this must be for those of you with small children of your own.
I struggle because no matter how many phone calls I make, emails I send, petitions I sign, contributions I give, rallies and protests I attend and on and on, still it never feels like enough.
I struggle with persevering when it would be so easy to fall into despair and helplessness.
And yet, I know the folks in those facilities have had to persevere against conditions in their home countries, perilous journeys to seek refuge and the horrifying way in which they are being treated by our government.
I know these folks have had to persevere in ways in which I never have and can only begin to grasp at understanding.
I know that I cannot claim to affirm our Unitarian Universalist principles, such as the inherent worth and dignity of each person, justice, equity and compassion – I cannot uphold this church’s mission – I cannot maintain my own humanity if I remain silent while the humanity of people seeking our help is defiled.
I know that I must act now – that waiting for the next election to act is too late, as important as that election will be in relation to ending these atrocities.
I know to persevere, to keep up the struggle in the face of such heartbreak, I will need:
- this religious community,
- my Unitarian Universalist faith,
- the leadership of those who have experienced our broken and bigoted immigration system,
- the many other folks and organizations that are joining together to cry out for an end to these atrocities.
My beloveds, I believe that our Unitarian Universalist faith, our religious values, this church’s mission, they are calling us, each of us, to do what we can to demand an end to these crimes against humanity.
Doing what we can will look different for each of us, depending upon our circumstances.
We have left a list of many different ways to get involved on the social action table in Howson Hall and have also put it on the social action page of our church website so that you can follow the hyperlinks it contains. Beloveds, we come from a long tradition of perseverance on behalf of truth, justice and human dignity.
Today, we are called to continue in that faithful tradition. We can carry each other when each of us inevitably needs respite. We are the ones we have been waiting for.
Amen and blessed be.
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