Toward Becoming

Rev. Marisol Caballero
February 23, 2014

Not much happens in February. It’s still pretty cold, but there are signs of spring beginning. This is an ideal time to consider all that is to come in what seems like an in-between time and to notice beauty in unexpected places.

Call to Worship
by Gordon B. McKeeman

We summon ourselves from the demands and delights of the daily round:
from the dirty dishes and unwaxed floors;
from unmowed grass, and untrimmed bushes;
from all incompleteness and not-yet-startedness;
from the unholy and unresolved.

We summon ourselves to attend to our vision of peace and justice;
of cleanliness and health;
of delight and devotion;
of the lovely and the holy;
of who we are and what we can do.

We summon the power oftradition and the exhilaration of newness, the wisdom of the ages and the knowing of the very young.

We summon beauty, eloquence, poetry, and music to be the bearers of our dreams.

We would open our eyes, our ears, our minds, our hearts to the amplest dimensions of life.

We rejoice in manifold promises and possibilities.

Reading: “The God’s in My Closet,”
by Terri Dennehy Pahucki

I find them everywhere – in the sunrise, in my toddler’s giggle, in age-old traditions, in the courageous surrender of a friend on the brink of death. Pieces and particles of gods, even whole gods- examined, collected, and eventually stuffed into the back of my closet. Some of them I’ve had for years, hand-me-down heirlooms I may have outgrown but can’t bear to give away. Others I’ve meticulously stitched by hand from an eclectic assortment of fabrics. In fact, I’ve got a closet full of gods that I try on for size when I need one. Some I save for special occasions: the God that Sustains through Funerals; the God of Family Get-Togethers. Others appear when I least expectthem: God the Savior; God the Jokester. I am in awe of the God of Nature and mystified by the God of Time. I’m struggling with the God of Relationships, and grateful for the God of Second Chances.

Amidst my menagerie, there is one god that appears most often, one who refuses to remain in the closet, hidden among the dusty refuse. This is the God of Questions, the God of Human Longing- a god as familiar as my worn-out jeans and as intimate as my own skin. Inevitably, this god arrives just as I’ve begun to sink back into my easy chair and, with one swift blow, knocks me into the world of the living. For I have done more than wear my gods on the outside; I have also swallowed them like a holy wafer and made them part of myself. And they have begun to echo in the still small miracle of my voice – in my questions, in my searching, and in my longing for the discovery of life and all its gods.

Prayer
by Leaf Seligman

Loving God, We pause in the stillness to rest for a moment, to quiet ourselves so that we can feel what stirs within us. Each breath draws us closer to the pulse of life and with each exhalation we make room for something new. May we find in this gathering the comfort of those who care. May we encounter patience along our growing edges and compassion in our most tender spots. Here may we find the inspiration and encouragement we need to face our challenges and nurture ourselves. And in the presence of suffering across the globe may we redouble our efforts to practice kindness where we are, with the hope that the light of our actions travels like the light of faraway stars. May our gestures of compassion and generosity seed possibility. May we walk humbly with one another, choosing reconciliation over resentment as we try to live right-sized. When life presses in and shifts us off balance, when pain assails us, when frustration mounts, may the rhythm of our breath steady us and bring us back to a place of gratitude.

Sermon “Toward Becoming”

Sermons, like people, have so many ways of coming into this world and living among us. This one had a birth so unusual that I would like to tell you its story.

One of the many reasons that being a Sunday school teacher or youth group advisor is one of the most fun and rewarding ministries to get involved with at this church, is that we have begun holding monthly happy hour gatherings to help grow our friendships and strengthen the bonds between volunteers. It was while chomping on pizza and sipping on wine that I received an urgent text message from Vickie Valadez, our Communication Coordinator. It turns out that she was at home, finalizing the last edits of the February newsletter, when she realized that today’s sermon title and synopsis were not included in this month’s submissions. She needed the information right away.

I said out loud, perplexed, “but I don’t preach in February … “as I checked my calendar, which was then followed by an, “Oh … I don’t preach in March. I am scheduled to preach in February.” Now, I’m not sure how other ministers do it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are others for whom coming up with sermon topics is second nature. But, for me, choosing a topic and writing a sermon means a way of being in the world. I must be deliberate in remaining open to inspiration. My eyes, ears, mind, and heart must be poised for the Spirit to glide over and land on one of my outstretched branches. Sometimes I sit like this for weeks before I realize success.

I realized that I would not have such a luxury this time. So, in an effort to force the Muse, I did what any other minister might do in a similar situation- I asked table full of pizza-weighted, beer-soaked Sunday school teachers what I should preach on at the end of February!

Luckily, I was sitting across the table from Conner, whose talent is currently employed in religious exploration with three and four year olds, said, “talk about love.”

“Well, it’ll be the end of February. Valentine’s will be over. Everyone’ll already be all “loved” out.” (Disclaimer: I don’t actually believe that this congregation’s capacity for love is that limited. I just wanted to explore other possible themes.)

“Well, hmmm. What else happens in February?” Conner thought out loud. “I don’t know,” he said. “February is sort of the armpit month of the year. Nobody looks forward to February.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in the fall you have school starting and leaves turning. Pretty soon it’ll be the holidays- Thanksgiving, followed by Christmas. Then in January, there’s the New Year and the excitement that comes with that. Then, the next things people are going to look forward to is Springtime and things warming up, everything in bloom … So, February stinks. It’s the armpit month of the year. Everyone wants to get it done with. Maybe that’s why it’s so short.”

“I can honestly say that I never thought of it like that.”

“Yeah, so you should talk about all that is to come, finding beauty in unexpected places, since this is a time that there’s so much that isn’t so beautiful.”

And sometimes, the Spirit just plops down across from you, drinking craft beer and eating good pizza! These are the people we have teaching our littlest UU’s, folks!

I’m not sure I’m ready to call this month the “armpit month ofthe year” yet, but I understood where Conner was coming from, especially since I, and maybe many of you can relate, have been in a funky mood lately. I have no reason to feel grumpy, but I do. I love my job. It keeps me plenty busy! I love my fiance and I’m loving the process of wedding planning. I have great friends, I adore living in Austin, and I’m in good health. No complaints. No real reason to feel anything but contentment. Deep down I do, but I’ve been unusually grumpy.

So, maybe it’s true. Maybe this time of year is one that we naturally would rather skip through. I am sure that those in the colder regions of our country would be happy to rush into spring, at this point! Perhaps it is easier to expect to see examples of beauty and goodness when there is contentment in the now. Searching for Beauty; holding out our expectant branches, hoping to feel the sudden lightweightiness of its Truth, is hard when we’re grumpy, especially when there is a true heavy burden of another sort of truth weighing our thoughts down.

A couple of years ago, my Erin and I went on a pilgrimage of sorts, to Big Bend. We stopped in the tiny ghost town of Terlingua, at a house whose sign beside the dirt road beckoned us to come in and view its “art gallery.” Inside, we found a few paintings by various local artists along the walls, and bought some candles labeled “tranquility” from the woman inside. I noticed a stack of small bumper stickers that read, “Push me Toward Becoming in Terlingua, TX” and was moved to buy one.

It seemed like a prayer. “Push me Toward Becoming in Terlingua, TX.” Though I have heard many verbs used in prayers (guide, remind, teach, hold), I had never before heard one so bold as “push.” I stopped Erin in her browsing to show her what I’d found. She liked it, too, and wondered aloud about what it would mean to be pushed “toward becoming.” Becoming what, more fully human? A better person? Or, it could just mean “becoming.” We are never fully finished. We are always becoming.

We bought the candles and the bumper sticker, which I had resolved to stick on my new bike helmet back at home, and we set off. As we backed out, Erin noticed a small sign above the door to the house. It read, “Becoming.” The gallery’s name was “Becoming.” We had a great laugh, but somehow the bumper sticker’s prayerful message didn’t seem any less poignant. Maybe we an~ not so unlike the bare tree branches of February. Maybe we are in need of being pushed toward becoming, too, even if we’re a bit grumpy.

I like the idea of always being in formation, of never fully arriving. I can imagine that, for some, this idea would bring discontentment with the present self, as we are future focused in a quest “toward becoming.” But, surprisingly, I think that the notion that we can be hoping, striving, working at becoming would allow for a greater sense of peace with the self in the present moment- a forgiveness of all that we have not been and are not; a release of hypercritical self-judgment because we can let go of the expectation of perfection.

If we pray to be pushed toward becoming, we might be awakened to the understanding that there is beauty in not only having already become, but more so in the becoming. Beauty dwells in the in-betweens, the unfinished, unpolished, imperfect, even in the armpit of our calendar.

I spent some time researching various thoughts on beauty, what it actually is, and how it can be located and perceived. Here are some of the opinions I ran across:

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.
– Confucius

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful for beauty is God’s handwriting.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Beauty is whatever gives joy.
– Edna St. Vincent Millay

Beauty is one of the rare things which does not lead to doubt of God.
– Jean Anouilh

Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth follow only beau~ and obey only love.
– Khalil Gibran

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.
– John Muir

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye.
– Miss Piggy, The Muppets

Yes, beauty is subjective. But, I do like the idea of waking ourselves up to it and helping our soul point it out to our eyes, or perhaps the other way around, once in a while. Sometimes we do need a push.

While in Africa earlier this year, I noticed that, in Tanzania, it is popular to decorate a car or van’s windows and windshield with American corporate logos and words in English. Other than a connection to the west, these decals have no apparent context. We saw Nike and Apple computer logos, as well as one windshield that read, “iPod,” in enormous letters. By far, though, our favorite was an overcrowded bus that drove past us, with the giant phrase, “Thanks God,” on its windshield. Something may have been lost in translation. It didn’t say, “Thanks be to God,” or “Thanks [comma] God.” Just, “Thanks God.” This was almost as funny as the church sign further down that highway that told us that we were passing the “Church of the End Times Message.”

Even so, “Thanks God” became not only our inside joke for the remainder of the trip, but also our shorthand for describing our awe and gratitude for moments of discovering immense beauty and kindness. Since returning home, there have been many unexpected moments when a noteworthy sunset, a lingering hummingbird, the smile of a stranger, or an extended hug will provoke a “Thanks God.” Thanks, Tanzania.

If moving toward becoming requires creating inviting branches of our eyes, ears, minds and hearts for Beauty to perch upon, how do we successfully extend such an invitation, in order to seek our Beauty? Outside of what TV, movies, and magazines tell us about it, how will we recognize the truly beautiful about this world? How will we know it when we see it, so that we can properly cherish it? And, how can we then embody Beauty, ourselves?

In her essay, “What Shall We Do With All This Beauty?” Rebecca Ann Parker agrees with James Baldwin when she says that, “the greatest challenge in our lives is the challenge presented to us by the beauty of life, by what beauty asks of us, and by what we must do to keep faith with the beauty that has nourished our lives.” We are living in an age in which the best of ourselves is being asked of us by this beautiful, ailing world. What a mighty gift! Parker encourages us to not be daunted in our “becoming” by saying, “I believe that in rising to the occasion of what is asked of us now, we will discover a depth of strength and a richness of love and courage that we did not know we could claim or achieve. I believe that in rising to the challenge of our times we will wade into the mystery of life to a depth we did not know was available to us:’

In her beautiful, “Benediction,” Parker includes words upon which I could probably hang the entirety of my personal theology and hope:

“The choice to bless the world is more than an act of will
a moving forward into the world
with the intention to do good.
It is an act of recognition,
A confession of surprise,
A grateful acknowledgement
That in the midst of a broken world
Unspeakable beauty, grace and mystery abide.
There is an embrace of kindness,
That encompasses all life,
Even yours.
And while there is injustice,
Anesthetization, or evil
There moves a holy disturbance,
A benevolent rage,
A revolutionary love
Protesting, urging, insisting
That which is sacred will not be defiled.
Those who bless the world live their life
as a gesture of thanks
for this beauty
and this rage.”

Maybe, just maybe, the cure for the February funk isn’t the hope of March or April, after all.

Podcasts of this and other sermons are also available for free on iTunes. You can find them here.

http://itunes.apple.com/podcast/first-unitarian-universalist/id372427776