Bienvenidos!

(Traducción al español, Francisco Javier Lagunes Gaitán)

El pasado otoño, en una subasta silenciosa en la iglesia, acordé ofrecer el derecho de escoger el tema de un sermón. Ian Forslund fue el mejor postor, y pidió que reflexionara sobre lo que pienso que significa para esta iglesia ser una “Congregación aceptante” (“Welcoming Congregation”). Tomado en un sentido restringido, esto se refiere al hecho de que esta iglesia está registrada como una iglesia que acepta y da la bienvenida a gente gay, lesbiana, bisexual y transgénera dentro de la fraternidad. ¿Pero cómo es esto? ¿De manera simbólica? He escuchado al anfitrión en alguna iglesia UU (¡No en esta!) decir a una visitante “Oh sí, tenemos lesbianas ?¡hay una por allá!”. ¿Qué tan aceptante se sentiría eso? Se trata de un tema importante, tomaré prestada alguna sabiduría del hombre Jesús, al explorarlo juntos en este Día del Padre.

Relato: La escuela aceptante

Había una vez una pequeña escuela, en un pueblecito en alguna parte de Texas, donde toda la gente era parecida. Todos habían nacido en Texas, todos tenían cabello obscuro y ojos cafés. Todos se llevaban bien y el lugar era tranquilo y pacífico.

Pero los tiempos cambian, y cambiaron en este aletargado pueblecito. La gente empezó a llegar por todas partes, y antes de que pasara mucho tiempo, ya no toda la gente se parecía. Algunos, de hecho, tenían el pelo rubio;¡nunca antes habían visto a personas con el pelo rubio natural! Y algunos tenían ojos azules: ¡Vaya un extraño color de ojos! Y algunos de entre quienes se mudaron al pueblecito provenían de otros estados, e incluso de México. Ya no fueron más sólo texanos nativos todos los habitantes.

El director de la escuela no sabía qué hacer, aunque sabía que necesitaban encontrar alguna forma de hacer que estos nuevos chicos se sintieran aceptados. Pero como él no sabía qué hacer, decidió pasar el problema a los estudiantes. Convocó a una asamblea escolar y les dijo que empezarían a llegar a la escuela personas diferentes a ellos, y que debían encontrar alguna forma de asegurarse de distinguirlos y de darles la bienvenida en la escuela.

Los niños hablaron mucho sobre esto. Decidieron que necesitaban una forma de identificar a todas estas clases diferentes de personas. Y antes de que pasara mucho tiempo, pudieron contar con una de ellas para practicar su bienvenida y aceptación; una chica llamada Susan llegó al pueblo con su familia. Ella había nacido en Austin. Y con todo y que tenía ojos cafés, ¡su pelo era rubio!

Bueno, ellos estaban listos para ella. “¡Oh, grandioso!”, dijeron al juntarse alrededor de ella en su primer día de escuela. “¡Hemos estado esperando a que llegara alguien de pelo rubio, y tú lo eres! Necesitamos una manera de señalarte para que todo el mundo sepa que estás aquí, para que te hagan sentir aceptada. ¡Así que aquí usa esto!”.

Y pusieron alrededor de su cuello una clase especial de collar que elaboraron unas 30 campanitas atadas. “¡Ahora, dondequiera que vayas, harás ruido! Así, cuando entres a un salón, la primera persona que te escuche gritará: “¡Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding! y así todos en el salón gritarán “¡Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!” y podrán juntarse alrededor de ti para hacerte sentir aceptada!” Y eso es lo que hicieron.

En un par de semanas, llegó otro nuevo estudiante. Stevie se mudó con su familia desde Dallas. Y su pelo era del color correcto (café), ¡Pero tenía ojos azules! ¡Asombroso!

Una vez más, sin embargo, los estudiantes estaban preparados. “Toma Stevie”, le dijo uno, “necesitarás usar esto aquí. Es difícil creer que tengas ojos azules si no podemos ponernos muy cerca de ti para mirar tu rostro, para facilitarnos la labor de señalarte, sólo usa esto alrededor de tu cuello”. Le dieron una gran letra mayúscula “B” (de “blue”) hecha de papel delgado azul. “Ahora, cada vez que entres a un salón, la primera persona que vea al gran “B” azul gritará:”¡Woop, woop, woop!” en señal de que tú estás ahí. Entonces todos los otros chicos gritarán: “¡Woop, woop, woop!” y se juntaran alrededor de ti para mirar tus ojos y hacerte sentir aceptado”. Y eso es lo que hicieron.

Muy pronto, otra familia nueva se mudó al pueblo, y una niña nueva se inscribió en la escuela. Su nombre era María. Ella tenía el color de pelo y ojos apropiado, pero no era de Texas. Su familia acababa de llegar de México.

Los chicos estaban preparados para esto, también. Habían hecho su tarea de ampliar su vocabulario y aprendieron una nueva palabra para la gente proveniente de lugares extraños: “alien”. Y aquí tenían la oportunidad de usarla. Así que fueron con María y le explicaron que eran el equipo de bienvenida de la escuela, que necesitaban señalarla para que los otros niños supieran que ella era diferente. Pero como tenía pelo negro y ojos cafés nadie podría darse cuenta, solo con verla, de que en realidad era una alien. Así que elaboraron algo para que se lo pusiera, también. Era una letra mayúscula muy grande “A” ?de un color como escarlata. “Aquí”, le dijeron, “necesitas usar esto”. Así, cada vez que entres a un salón la primera persona que vea tu gran “A” gritará “¡Alien! ¡Alien!” y entonces todo el mundo gritará, “¡Alien! ¡Alien!” y podremos juntarnos alrededor de ti para saber cómo se ve realmente un alien y hacerte sentir aceptada. Y eso es lo que hicieron.

Bueno, al llegar más y más niños nuevos al pueblo, esa se convirtió en una escuela muy ruidosa. Los chicos buscaron todas las diferencias que pudieron encontrar en cada nuevo niño, e inventaron nuevas clases de ruidos y letras para señalar a cada uno, y que así los niños nuevos se sintieran aceptados.

Pero aunque algunos de los niños nuevos estaban encantados con todas estas atenciones especiales, la mayoría no lo estaba. Y le dijeron al director que no se sentían ni un poco aceptados, ni bienvenidos ahí. El director se quedó perplejo. ¡Caramba! : ¿Qué deben hacer?

Sermón: ¡Bienvenidos!

Si han asistido por algún tiempo aquí, es probable que hayan notado que no hablo mucho de Jesús. No es que no haya oído de él. He estudiado bastante sobre ese hombre. He sido Fellow (asociado) en el Seminario de Jesús (grupo académico interdisciplinario dedicado a dilucidar sobre las palabras y actos del Jesús histórico, N. del T.) por una década, así que no soy completamente ignorante sobre el hombre y sus enseñanzas. Pero para mí, él nunca ha sido el maestro religioso más interesante o profundo. Es una cosa personal. Para mí, las enseñanzas de Buda y Lao-Tsé fueron más sabias y más útiles, y tengo algunos libros de algunos pensadores cuyas nociones me parecen más relevantes y útiles. Así que no he usado mucho a Jesús.

Todo eso es una forma negativa de decir algo positivo, que es que esta mañana pienso que una de las nociones profundas de Jesús es más útil y más pertinente que otras en las que puedo pensar. Esta noción fue su enseñanza más importante, y la enseñanza que también fue la más importante para él: su idea de que lo que él llamó el Reino de Dios.

Esa frase ?”el Reino de Dios”? no fue única de Jesús, fue usada por mucha gente durante los primeros dos siglos. Judíos, cristianos, griegos y romanos escribieron sobre el reino de Dios, que también llamaron el Reino de la Sabiduría. Todos usaron la frase para significar el mundo ideal, la clase de mundo con la mejor oportunidad de sostener la paz, la justicia y el amor entre gente que era diferente. Ese es el reto, desde luego. No requiere mucho talento y no es precisamente una gran victoria hacer buenas migas con gente que se ve, piensa y habla como tú. Eso es más como mirar en el espejo y expresar aprobación por tu reflejo. El reto es hacerlo con personas que no son como tú. Y el mundo ideal, en el que este reto se cumpla bien, era lo que muchos llamaron el Reino de Dios.

Para Jesús, el Reino de Dios no era sobrenatural. No era algo que sobreviniera, no tenía nada que ver con ninguna clase de fin del mundo. Estaba, al menos potencialmente, aquí y ahora, dentro y entre nosotros, y su frustración fue que no podíamos verlo.

Para Jesús, nuestra más profunda debilidad humana ?casi podrías llamarla nuestro “pecado original”, aunque él nunca la llamó así ?es nuestro hábito perdurable y destructivo de definirnos en términos demasiado pequeños para hacer justicia a la idea de que todo el mundo es la creación de Dios, para decirlo poéticamente.

Los judíos ?y, desde luego, Jesús era un judío? frecuentemente se definieron por sus diferencias de los otros. Se definieron por sus costumbres de sacrificios animales en el Templo, por su lenguaje, por las restricciones alimenticias y por una docena de otras formas. Estas diferencias los hicieron sentirse especiales: Pensaron en sí mismos como en el pueblo elegido de Dios.

Pero para el hombre Jesús, si lo entiendo correctamente, cada persona era un hijo de dios. Y la identidad exclusiva de los judíos era demasiado estrecha, demasiado pequeña para servir a la vida. Él quería que se derribaran las paredes, él quería que se sabotearan las pequeñas identidades. Este es el significado detrás de su dicho a sus discípulos ?que mendigaban sus alimentos, así como él hizo también ?de que comieran lo que les dieran.

Esto no significaba “cómete tu brócoli”. Jesús y sus seguidores fueron todos judíos, y todos mendigaron su comida. Vivieron en un mundo con romanos, griegos, samaritanos, y toda una variedad de otros estilos étnicos y religiosos, cada uno de los cuales tenía diferentes leyes de alimentación. Cuando Jesús dijo a sus seguidores que comieran lo que se ponía ante ellos, esto significaba “Cuando mendigues de un romano y te ofrezca puerco, ¡cómelo! Come mariscos, come cualquier cosa puesta ante ti por los griegos, los samaritanos y los otros de los que mendigues comida”.

Él decía con esto, “No se permitan definirse por sus diferencias de los otros. Insistan en definirse a sí mismos por sus semejanzas con los otros: todos ustedes son hermanos y hermanas, todos hijos de Dios. Y cuando la gente se dé cuanta de esto y actúe de esta manera, el Reino de Dios estará aquí”. Amén, fin del sermón, fin de la religión, ¡Ahora vayan y actúen así! Esta clase de predicación es la que hace a la vida de los profetas desagradable, brutal y corta. ¡Después de todo, nadie se molestaría nunca en matar a alguien que solamente dijo que se amen los unos a los otros y que tengan un bonito día! Eso lo puedes obtener de tarjetas de felicitación baratas, o de pegatinas y calcomanías populares. No, los más significativos profetas y sabios son profundamente inquietantes, porque ellos se proponen transformar los fundamentos de nuestro mundo.

Creo que las enseñanzas de Jesús son profundas y perturbadoras. Creo que si pudiéramos entenderlo alguna vez y actuar en consecuencia, el mundo desde luego se convertiría en algo que podría llamarse también el Reino de Dios, o el Reino de la Sabiduría, porque no puedo pensar en una mejor clase de mundo, no importa que tan improbable resulte.

Ahora que, si esta fuera una clase diferente de iglesia, y yo fuera una clase diferente de predicador, podría evadirme con solo decir algo como, “He aquí, lo han escuchado, sólo escuchen a Jesús y obedezcan. ¡Amén!”. Según las probabilidades, no es muy factible que eso suceda aquí. A la mayoría de ustedes no les importaría quién lo dijo, antes tendrían que estar convencidos de que era algo sabio y de que podría funcionar. Saber que no puedo simplemente proclamar algo ante ustedes, sino que debo intentar persuadirlos. Es una de las cosas que me gustan más sobre esta profesión.

Así que dejaré a Jesús por un momento, y llegaré a esto desde una dirección diferente.

Recuerda: Nunca hay un problema para aceptar o dar la bienvenida a gente que es justo como nosotros. Sabemos que son el tipo correcto de personas. Pero, ¿Cómo aceptamos y damos la bienvenida a gente que parece diferir de nosotros de formas importantes? Esta es la prueba decisiva de cada sistema personal de creencias, o religión, pienso yo.

Como deben saber, el derecho a elegir el nombre del tema de hoy fue subastado al mejor postor el otoño pasado. ¡Se siente un poco raro, ser comprado y vendido tan abiertamente! Es la primera vez que participo en algo así. Ian Forslund, el conductor laico de esta mañana, fue el mejor postor, y me pidió reflexionar sobre lo que debería significar para una iglesia ser una “iglesia aceptante” ?esto es, aceptar y dar la bienvenida a la plena participación y membresía de personas que son gays, lesbianas, bisexuales o transgéneras.

Ustedes conocen todos los tópicos liberales sobre cómo, sorprendentemente, simplemente todo el mundo es bienvenido aquí porque no tenemos un solo hueso de prejuicio en nuestro cuerpo colectivo. Decididamente no voy a decir ninguna de esas cosas. No pretenderé que es fácil, porque no lo es. No pretenderé que sucede realmente siempre, incluso aquí, porque no es así. Y si hay alguna culpa por esto, pienso que es compartida por todos. Para persuadirlos de esto, llegaré a esto desde un ángulo inusual, porque el argumento que quiero construir va en contra de la mayoría de la plática que escucho entre liberales culturales ?de cualquier religión.

Quiero mirar esto a través de los lentes de alguna de nuestra historia como sociedad. En algún momento hace unos 35 años, entre las marchas por los derechos civiles y la guerra de Vietnam, empezamos a perder nuestro centro como sociedad, y no lo hemos recuperado aún. Solíamos considerarnos Americanos. Éramos negros, blancos, hispanos, teístas, ateos, liberales y conservadores, pero todos éramos Americanos.

Entonces empezó a hacerse pedazos. Comenzamos por identificarnos a partir de identidades cada vez menores, separándonos los unos de los otros por nuestras diferencias. Nos convertimos en ?y permanecemos como? afro-americanos, polaco-americanos, italo-americanos, mexico-americanos, y así sucesivamente. Esta fue una batalla que ya fue peleada y ganada en las décadas tempranas del siglo XX, cuando se nos enseñó a no pegar con guiones otros elementos a nuestras identidades ?el guión fue definido como un signo de substracción?, sino a definirnos simplemente como “Americanos”. Pero hace 35 años, este acuerdo comenzó a desintegrarse. Bajo los narcóticos efectos del narcisismo de los años 60 y 70 del siglo pasado, comenzamos a definirnos por lo local, especial, o diferente entre nosotros. Freud escribió sobre lo que llamó “el narcisismo de las pequeñas diferencias” hace unos 70 años, y todavía lo vivimos.

Veo a nuestra actual “cultura victimista” de la misma manera: como definiciones mutuas que nos aíslan a partir de nuestras diferencias en vez de identificarnos a partir de nuestras semejanzas. Es casi como si quisiéramos gustarles a los otros debido a las maneras en que no somos como ellos. Si hay algo que sea más ingenuo que esto, ni siquiera tengo idea de lo que pudiera ser.

¿Por qué? Porque no pienso que jamás aceptemos o demos la bienvenida a otros en base en sus diferencias de nosotros. Sentimos el parentesco si nos sentimos relacionados. Sentimos que todos pertenecemos a la familia humana cuando nos identificamos a nosotros mismos como hermanos y hermanas. Y sólo podemos sentirnos relacionados cuando nos definimos a partir de nuestras semejanzas, por aquellas cosas que compartimos y apreciamos, más que por las cosas que no compartimos.

Por ejemplo:

  • Si algunas personas salvan tu vida a riesgo de las suyas propias, ¿Cuánto más necesitas saber de esas personas? ¿Cuánto te importa realmente saberlo?
  • O si un maestro encuentra una manera de comunicarse y abrir un vínculo de confianza con tu hija adolescente en problemas, por primera vez, y le cambia la vida ¿Cuánto más necesitas saber sobre este maestro que prácticamente salvó el alma, y tal vez la vida de tu hija?
  • Un joven atleta anota el gol decisivo para tu escuela, una mujer joven marca el tanto del triunfo en un partido de voleibol. Ellos simplemente se convierten en héroes locales.

Nadie se pregunta nada más sobre ellos.

Tal vez sea más fácil armar el argumento que deseo exponer en los deportes, así que veamos algunos relatos deportivos.

En los años 30 del siglo XX, toda una generación anterior al movimiento por los derechos civiles, la situación de los negros en EUA era mucho peor de lo que la mayoría de nosotros podría imaginar. Hubo todavía algunos linchamientos en el sur. Los restaurantes, baños, e incluso los bebederos públicos estaban segregados, marcados como “solo blancos” o “de color”. Recuerdo que cuando era un niño pequeño en Tulsa, Oklahoma, veía todos esos letreros. Nadie habría defendido que la gente de color, entonces llamados “negros”, eran en ningún sentido ciudadanos plenos de este país.

También en los años 30, EUA construía un creciente antagonismo con Alemania. Hitler había llegado al poder, y enseñaba al pueblo alemán que la raza blanca era la Raza Suprema, incomparablemente superior a los negros, judíos, homosexuales, gitanos y otros. Cuando Jesse Owens derrotó a los corredores más rápidos del mundo ?incluyendo al mejor de Alemania? al ganar la medalla de oro en los Juegos Olímpicos de 1936, llevados a cabo en Alemania, él fue celebrado como un héroe americano. Él era negro, y fue un héroe. Y “héroe” le gana a “negro”.

Joe Louis aceptó pelear con el gran boxeador alemán Max Schmelling por la misma época, y lo llamamos la “Esperanza de América”. Perdió ante Schmelling la primera vez y los alemanes festejaron burlonamente. Cuando Louis volvió a enfrentar a Schmelling de nuevo, y lo noqueó en el primer round, se convirtió en un héroe americano.

Jesse Owens y Joe Louis no fueron celebrados por ser negros. Fueron celebrados por ser americanos, y por ser grandiosos. Las categorías de ser americanos y de obtener premios a la excelencia eran categorías compartidas por unos 100 millones de otros americanos. En la medida en que pudieron definirse por sus semejanzas con nosotros, fueron aceptados. Cuando se definieron solo por sus diferencias ?como lo fueron en otras áreas de sus vidas? no fueron aceptados.

Luego de la Segunda Guerra Mundial, la liga mayor de beisbol ?conocida como el Pasatiempo Favorito de América? comenzó a estar integrada (es decir, ya no segregada racialmente, N. del T.) cuando Jackie Robinson se unió a los Dodgers de Brooklyn. Mucha gente, incluso muchos aficionados al beisbol, lo odió al principio, solamente debido a que lo veían como “de color”. Lo identificaron por sus diferencias, lo odiaron.

Pero muy pronto, comenzaron a verlo, en cambio, como jugador de beisbol, y uno muy bueno. Entonces lo aceptaron. No como negro, sino como un destacado atleta que mejoró el juego favorito de América.

Hoy en día, es difícil de creer que hace medio siglo todos los principales deportes profesionales de este país sólo admitían a jugadores blancos. Actualmente, los jugadores blancos son una minoría en el beisbol, basquetbol y futbol americano. Ha habido un gran cambio en la dirección correcta.

Hace 30 años, como algunos de ustedes recordarán, la persona más famosa del mundo, el hombre reconocido por más gente que nadie en el planeta, era Mohamed Alí, el boxeador bocón. Cambió su nombre original de Cassius Clay ?al que él llamó su “nombre de esclavo”. Se rehusó a entrar al ejército para pelear en Vietnam, y se convirtió en un seguidor de Elijah Mohammed, el líder de los negros musulmanes odiadores de blancos. Si estás fuera, luego de 3 strikes, son por lo menos 4. Alí fue atacado, fuertemente criticado, se le despojó del campeonato, y se le prohibió pelear por unos tres años. Pero durante este tiempo, al hablar en campus universitarios y en todas partes, la gente comenzó a darse cuenta de que él tenía un fuerte sentido de la integridad y autenticidad. Cuando regresó al cuadrilátero demostró, tanto un gran boxeo, como un gran carácter, y se convirtió en la más reconocida y admirada persona sobre la tierra.

Ser aceptado en todas estas y mayores categorías convirtió su raza en algo prácticamente irrelevante. Todavía es una de las personas vivas más admiradas. Cuando apareció como la persona misteriosa escogida para encender la antorcha olímpica, hace unos pocos años, difícilmente se encontraba un ojo seco entre los espectadores. Seguro que él seguía siendo negro y musulmán, y también un bocón. Pero también era un hombre de gran integridad, un hombre de principios, un hombre con un gran sentido del humor, y un campeón. Y para la arrolladora mayoría de la gente en el mundo, estos son hechos más importantes que el color de su piel.

Hoy en día, aunque no lo mencionamos lo suficiente, los héroes y los modelos a seguir pueden ser de cualquier sexo, raza, y orientación sexual. Hace 5 años el hombre más famoso del planeta y uno de los más admirados era Michael Jordan. Su jersey de basquetbol de los Toros de Chicago, con el número 23, vendió más que todos los otros números de jerséis combinados. Lo veías en niños de todos los colores, porque el color no importaba más. Todos querían “ser como Mike”.

Si alguien hubiera dicho solamente “ámenlo porque es negro”, ni siquiera recordaríamos su nombre ahora. Pero decíamos que lo amábamos, o admirábamos, porque aprendimos a definirlo en categorías mayores. Él representó los valores que respetábamos pero no podíamos demostrar tan notablemente como él lo hizo. Jordan fue fieramente competitivo, jugó justamente, fue el mejor jugador que el juego haya visto, casi pareció llevar a voluntad a los Toros de Chicago a 6 campeonatos mundiales ?derrotando al menos a dos equipos que eran mejores.

Y ya sea que lo vieras en conferencias de prensa, comerciales, o en parodias divertidas o satíricas en la TV, veías una calidad de carácter que no podías evitar admirar ?y, probablemente, envidiar. Michael Jordan, como Mohamed Alí, Jackie Robinson, Jesse Owens y Joe Louis, representó el sueño de Martin Luther King Jr., quien esperaba poder algún día ser capaz de juzgar a una persona por el contenido de su carácter, en vez de por el color de su piel.

Lento pero seguro, hacemos progresos en esto, nosotros, la sociedad más heterogénea sobre la tierra. Hace 30 años, los matrimonios interraciales se veían difícilmente en los EUA. Hoy en día, 10% de los matrimonios en este país son entre personas de diferentes razas o grupos étnicos. Y así como con la raza, así va sucediendo con la orientación sexual, aunque hace falta recorrer un mayor trecho ahí.

Pero Elton John fue rey del mundo como artista masivo, y a nadie le importó que fuera homosexual, y tan llamativo e intenso como se puede ser. Hoy hay muchos artistas y actores que son abiertamente gays, lesbianas o bisexuales y que atraen multitudes, y lo que es más importante, son talentosos y amamos el talento.

Martina Navratilova fue odiada por algunos por ser lesbiana, pero ella fue admirada y aplaudida por muchos más, debido a que por casi una década fue la mejor jugadora de tenis del mundo. Las categorías mayores le ganaron a las menores. Ella sobresalió en cosas que realmente nos interesaban, y sus diferencias de las normas sexuales aceptadas en el país se volvieron secundarias, si es que siquiera fueran así de importantes.

Las normas sociales cambian para mejor, y pienso yo que está claro cómo cambian y cuál es el secreto, el secreto para expandir nuestras fronteras y dar la bienvenida y aceptar a la gente que difiere de las normas sociales. Tenemos trabajo que hacer, por supuesto.

Por una parte, tenemos que aprender a aceptar un más amplio rango de comportamientos y estilos de vida como parte de la norma social. Estamos acostumbrados a ver a las parejas tomadas de las manos. Y entre más parejas veamos tomadas de las manos que resulte que son del mismo sexo, más naturalmente lo veremos, como cuando la mayoría de las parejas visibles eran heterosexuales. Algunos amores son homosexuales, pero lo importante es que se trata de amor.

Entre más familias veamos en las que ambos padres sean del mismo sexo, será más fácil entender que lo que realmente apreciamos positivamente es a unos padres amorosos. Y si se trata de padres amorosos y de una pareja amorosa, nos alegraremos de que estos chicos cuenten con ellos y nos alegrará que ambas personas se hayan encontrado una a la otra.

Sucede gradualmente, así como la tasa de matrimonios interraciales se movió de cero a cerca de 10%.

Pero ¿ven lo que pasa aquí? ¿Cómo y por qué funciona? Lo que sucede es que cuando dejamos de identificarnos con identidades pequeñas o excluyentes, se facilita sentirse relacionados unos con los otros. Pienso que resulta autoderrotista para los negros, hispanos, gays y lesbianas ?o, para el caso, a los liberales religiosos? definirse a sí mismos, o permitir ser definidos, por las cosas que los hacen diferentes de otros. Todos deberíamos querer, en cambio, ser conocidos por el contenido de nuestros carácteres y el valor y compasión de nuestros actos.

Así que: ¿cómo nos convertiremos en gente aceptante? De la misma forma en que llegamos a ser aceptados: a través de identificarnos a nosotros y a los otros sólo bajo los más importantes valores y categorías, las cualidades que todos admiramos, las cualidades que pueden unirnos en lugar de dividirnos.

¿Cuáles son éstas? No hay ningún misterio aquí. Valoramos a la gente de integridad y coraje, a la gente de carácter. Valoramos a la gente que trata de amar, y que trata de ofrecer su amor hacia el mundo en maneras que resulten una bendición al pasar por él. Necesitamos y admiramos a la gente que quiere estar en relaciones de compromiso, ya sea que esas relaciones sean con otras personas o con la comunidad humana como totalidad. Admiramos y necesitamos a los buenos padres y madres en nuestra sociedad, a los ciudadanos honestos a los buenos trabajadores y a los empleadores justos.

Conoces esta lista. La puedes continuar tan bien como yo. Admiramos y aceptamos a las personas que actúan como si realmente fueran hijos de Dios, a la gente con una chispita de divinidad en ella, a quienes tratan de convertirse en mejores personas, parejas, y ciudadanos: a la gente que contribuye a hacer de éste un mundo mejor por estar en él. Y entre más podamos identificarnos con otros por estos estándares, y no por otros menores, mejor será nuestro mundo. Yo no creo que la gente gay quiera ser aceptada solamente como gente gay, o que la gente negra sólo quiera ser bienvenida como nuestros negros simbólicos. Pienso que ellos quieren lo que todos queremos: ser reconocidos y aceptados como nuestros hermanos y hermanas, como hijos de un Dios de amor. Ese es el mundo mejor que necesitamos crear juntos.

¿Qué tan bueno pude ser esto? Bien, Jesús una vez enseñó que un mundo semejante, en el que nosotros nos veamos simplemente como hermanos y hermanas, e hijos de Dios, sería un mundo tan perfecto que solo podría ser llamado el Reino de Dios. No puedo mejorar esto, así que diré “Gracias Jesús” ?y Amén.

Welcome

© Davidson Loehr

17 June 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Last fall, in a silent auction at church, I agreed to offer the right to name a sermon topic. Ian Forslund was the highest bidder, and asked that I reflect on what I think it means for this church to be a “Welcoming Congregation.” Taken narrowly, that refers to the fact that this church is on record as a church that welcomes gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people into fellowship. But how? As tokens? I have overheard the greeter in a UU church (not this one!) tell a visitor “Oh yes, we have lesbians – there’s one over there!” How welcome would that feel? It’s an important topic, I’ll borrow some wisdom from the man Jesus, as we explore it together on this Father’s Day.

STORY: The Welcoming School

Once there was a small school in a small town somewhere in Texas where everybody was alike. They had all been born in Texas, they all had dark hair and brown eyes. They all got along, and it was a quiet and peaceful place. But times change, and they changed in this sleepy little town. People started moving in, from all over the place, and before long people didn’t all look alike. Some actually had blonde hair; they had never seen a real blonde in person before! And some had blue eyes: what an odd color for eyes! And some had actually moved there from other states, or from Mexico. They weren’t all native Texans any more.

The school principal didn’t know what to do, though he knew they needed to find some way to make all these new kids feel welcome. But he didn’t know what to do, so he decided to pass the problem on to the students. He called a school assembly and told them that people were starting to come to the school who were different from them, and they needed to find some way to make sure and notice them and welcome them to the school.

The kids talked and talked about it. They decided they needed a way to identify all these different sorts of people. And before long, they had one to practice on; a girl named Susan came to town with her family. She had been born in Austin. And though she had brown eyes, she had blonde hair!

Well, they were ready for her. “Oh great!” they said as they gathered around her on her first day in school. “We’ve been waiting for somebody to come who had blonde hair, and you’re it! We need a way to mark you so everybody will know you’re here, so they can all make you feel welcome. Here, wear this!” And they put around her neck a special kind of necklace they had made by tying together about thirty jingle bells. “Now whenever you move, you’ll make noise! Then when you come into a room, the first person who hears you will shout “Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!” and then everybody in the room will shout “Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!” and they can gather around you and make you feel welcome!” And that’s what they did.

Within a couple weeks, they had another new student. Stevie moved with his family from Dallas. And his hair was the right color (brown), but he had blue eyes! Amazing!

Again, though, the students were ready. “Here Stevie,” one of them said, “you need to wear this. It’s hard to tell you have blue eyes till we can get up really close to look at your face, so this will make it easier to mark you. Just wear this around your neck.” They gave him a very big capital letter “B” (for “blue”) made out of thick blue paper. “Now whenever you come into a room, the first person who sees the big blue “B” will shout “Woop, woop, woop!” and a signal that you’re here. Then all the other kids will should “Woop, woop, woop!” and gather around you to look at your eyes and make you feel welcome.” And that’s what they did.

Before long, another new family moved to town, and another new kid enrolled in the school. Her name was Maria. She had the right hair and eye color, but she wasn’t from Texas. Her family had just moved up from Mexico.

The kids were ready for this, too. They had learned a new work in their vocabulary-building exercises for people who came from strange places: alien. And here was their chance to use it. So they went up to Maria and explained that they were the welcome team from the school, that they needed to mark her so the other kids would know she was different. But since she had black hair and brown eyes, nobody could tell by looking at her that she was really an alien. So they had made something for her to wear, too. It was a very big capital letter “A” kind of a scarlet color. “Here,” they said, “you need to wear this. Then, whenever you come into a room the first person who sees your big “A” will shout “Alien! Alien!” and then everybody will shout “Alien! Alien!” and we can all gather around to see just what an alien really looks like and make you feel welcome. And that’s what they did.

Well, as more and more new kids moved into town, that became a very noisy school. The kids looked for all the differences they could find in every new kid, and invented new kinds of noises and letters to mark each one with, so the new kids would feel welcome.

But while a few of the new kids just loved all the attention, most did not. And, they told the principal, they didn’t feel one bit welcome there. The principal was stumped. Gosh: what should they do?

SERMON: Welcome!

If you’ve been coming here long, you’ve probably noticed by now that I don’t talk much about Jesus. It’s not that I haven’t heard of him. I’ve studied a fair amount about the man, I’ve been a Fellow in the Jesus Seminar for a decade, so I’m not completely ignorant of the man and his teachings. But for me, he’s never been the most interesting or insightful religious teacher. It’s a personal thing. For me, the teachings of the Buddha and Lao-Tzu were wiser and more useful, and I have quite a few books from quite a few thinkers whose insights seem more relevant and useful. So I’ve just not used Jesus much.

All that is a negative way of saying something positive, which is that this morning I think one of Jesus’s insights is more useful and more on point than others I can think of. That insight was his most important teaching, and the teaching that was also most important to him: his idea of what he called the Kingdom of God.

That phrase “the Kingdom of God” wasn’t unique to Jesus, it was used by a lot of people in the first couple centuries. Jews, Christians, Greeks and Romans wrote about the kingdom of God, which they also called the Kingdom of Wisdom. They all used the phrase to mean the ideal world, the kind of world with the best chance of sustaining peace, justice, and love among people who were different. That’s the challenge, of course. It doesn’t take much talent and isn’t much of a victory to get along with people who look, think, and talk like you. That’s more like looking in the mirror and approving of your reflection. The challenge is to do it among people who are not like you. And the ideal world, in which that challenge was met well, was what many called the Kingdom of God.

For Jesus, the Kingdom of God was not supernatural. It wasn’t something coming, had nothing to do with any sort of end of the world. It was, at least potentially, here and now, within and among us, and his frustration was that we couldn’t see it.

For Jesus, our deepest human failing – you could almost call it our “original sin,” though he never did – is our destructive but abiding habit of defining ourselves in terms too small to do justice to the idea that the whole world is God’s creation, to put it poetically.

The Jews – and of course Jesus was a Jew – often defined themselves by their differences from others. They defined themselves by their customs of animal sacrifices in the Temple, by their language, their dietary restrictions, and a dozen other ways. These differences made them feel special. They thought of themselves as God’s chosen people.

But to the man Jesus, if I understand him correctly, everyone was a child of God. And the exclusive identity of the Jews was too narrow, too small to serve life. He wanted the walls broken down, he wanted small identities sabotaged. This is the meaning behind his telling his disciples – who begged for their food, as he also did – to eat whatever was put before them.

That didn’t mean “eat your broccoli.” Jesus and his followers were all Jewish, and they all begged for their food. They lived in a world with Romans, Greeks, Samaritans, and a whole array of other ethnic and religious styles, each of which had different food laws. When Jesus told his followers to eat what was put before them, it meant “When you beg from a Roman and they offer you pork, eat it! Eat shellfish, eat whatever is put before you by the Greek, the Samaritan, and the others from whom you will be begging food.”

He was saying “Don’t allow yourself to be defined by your differences from others. Insist on defining yourselves by your similarities to others: you are all brothers and sisters, all children of God. And when people realize this and act this way, the Kingdom of God will be here.” Amen, end of sermon, end of religion, now go do it! This kind of talk is what makes the lives of prophets nasty, brutish and short. After all, nobody would ever have bothered to kill someone who just told you to love one another and have a nice day! That you can get from cheap greeting cards or bumper stickers. No, the most significant prophets and sages are deeply disturbing, because they are rearranging the foundations of our world.

I think Jesus’s teachings here are profound and disturbing. I believe if we could ever understand and act that way, the world would indeed become something that might as well be called the Kingdom of God, or the Kingdom of Wisdom, because I can’t think of a better kind of world, no matter how unlikely it may be.

Now if this were a different kind of church and I were a different kind of preacher, I might get away with saying to you, “There, you’ve heard it, just listen to Jesus and obey, Amen!” Odds are though, it isn’t likely to work here. Most of you wouldn’t care who said it, unless you were persuaded that it was wise and might work. Knowing that I can’t just proclaim to you, but must also try to persuade you, is one of the things I like most about this profession.

So I’ll leave Jesus for awhile, and come at this from a different direction.

Remember: There’s never a problem accepting or welcoming people who are just like us. We know they’re the right kind of people. But how do we accept and welcome people who seem to differ from us in important ways? That’s the test of every personal belief system or religion, I think.

As you may know, the right to name the topic for this morning’s sermon was auctioned off to the highest bidder last fall. It feels a bit odd, being so bought and sold so openly! It’s the first time I’ve ever tried this. Ian Forslund, the lay leader this morning, was the highest bidder, and he asked me to reflect on what I think it should mean for a church to be a “welcoming church” – that is, to welcome into full participation and membership people who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered.

You know all the liberal platitudes here about how, by golly, just everyone is welcome here because we don’t have a prejudiced bone in our collective body. I’m just not going to say those things. I won’t pretend that it’s easy, because it isn’t. I won’t pretend that it always really happens, even here, because it doesn’t. And if there is blame for this, I think it is shared by everyone. To persuade you of this, I’ll come at this from an odd angle, because the point I want to make runs counter to most of the talk I hear among cultural liberals – of any religion.

I want to look at this through the lens of some of our history as a society. Somewhere around 35 years ago, some time during the civil rights marches and the Vietnam War, we began losing our center as a society, and we haven’t got it back yet. We used to consider ourselves Americans. We were black, white, Hispanic, theistic, atheistic, liberal and conservative, but we were all Americans.

Then it started pulling apart. We began identifying ourselves by smaller and smaller identities, splitting ourselves off from one another by our differences. We became, and remain, Afro-Americans, Polish-Americans, Italian-Americans, Mexican-Americans, and the rest. This was a battle that had already been fought and won in the early decades of the 20th century, when we were taught not to hyphenate our identities – the hyphen was defined as a minus sign – but to define ourselves simply as “Americans.” But 35 years ago, it all began coming undone. Drugged by the narcissism of the 1960s and 1970s, we began defining ourselves by what was local, special, or different about us. Freud wrote about what he called “the narcissism of small differences” over 70 years ago, and we are still living it out.

I see our current “victim culture” in the same way: as definitions of one another isolating us through our differences rather than identifying us through our similarities. It’s almost as though we want others to like us because of the ways that we’re not like them. If there is much that’s more naive than that, I don’t know what it is.

Why? Because I don’t think we ever accept or welcome others based on their differences from us. We feel kinship when we feel related. We feel we all belong to the human family when we identify ourselves as brothers and sisters. And we can only feel related when we define ourselves by our similarities, by those things we share that we value more than those things we do not share.

For example:

If someone saves your life at the risk of their own, how much else do you really need to know about them? How much else do you really care? Or if a teacher finds a way to reach your troubled teenager for the first time, and it turns her life around – how much else do you need to know about that teacher who just saved the soul, maybe the life, of your kid? A young athlete scores the winning touchdown for your school, a young woman kicks the winning soccer goal. They just became local heroes. Nobody’s asking anything else about them.

Maybe it’s easiest to make the point I’m trying to make in sports, so let’s take some sports stories.

In the 1930s, a whole generation before the civil rights movement, the status of black people in this country was far worse than most of us could imagine. There were still a few lynchings in the South. Restaurants, restrooms, even drinking fountains were segregated, marked “whites only” or “colored.” I remember as a young boy living in Tulsa, Oklahoma seeing all of those signs. No one would argue that colored people, the negros, as they were called then, were in any sense full citizens of this country.

Also in the 1930s, our country was building a growing antagonism with Germany. Hitler had come into power, and was teaching the German people that their white race was the Master Race, immeasurably superior to blacks, Jews, homosexuals, gypsies and others. When Jesse Owens beat the fastest runners in the world – including Germany’s best – to win a gold medal at the 1936 Olympics, held in Germany, he was celebrated back here as an American hero. He was black, and he was a hero. And “hero” trumped “black.”

Joe Louis agreed to fight the great German boxer Max Schmelling around the same time, and we called him “America’s Hope.” He lost to Schmelling the first time and the Germans gloated. When Louis fought Schmelling again, and knocked him out in the first round, he was an American hero.

Jesse Owens and Joe Louis were not celebrated because they were black. They were celebrated because they were American, and they were great. The categories of being an American and prizing excellence were categories they shared with about 100 million other Americans. As long as they could be defined by their similarities with us, they were welcomed. When they were defined only by their differences – as they were in other areas of their lives – they were not welcomed.

After World War II, major league baseball – known then as America’s Favorite Pasttime – began to be integrated when Jackie Robinson joined the Brooklyn Dodgers. Many people, including many baseball fans, hated him at first, because they just saw him as colored. They identified him by his differences, and they hated him.

But before long, they began to see him, instead, as a baseball player, and a very good one. Then they accepted him. Not as a negro, but as a remarkable athlete who made America’s favorite game better.

Today, it’s hard to believe that a half century ago all major professional sports in this country only allowed white players. Today, white players are a distinct minority in baseball, basketball and football. It has been a big change in the right direction.

Thirty years ago, as some of you will remember, the most famous person in the world, the man recognized by more people than anyone else on the planet, was Muhammed Ali, the loudmouth boxer. He changed his name from Cassius Clay – which he called his “slave name.” He refused to go into the Army to fight in Vietnam, and he converted to become a follower of Elijah Mohammed, the white-hating leader of the Black Muslims. If you’re out after three strikes, that’s at least four. Ali was attacked, reviled, his boxing championship was stripped, and he was forbidden to fight for about three years. But during this time, as he spoke at college campuses and everywhere else, people began to realize that he had a strong sense of integrity and authenticity. When he returned to the ring, he demonstrated both great boxing and great character, and became the best-recognized and one of the most admired people on earth.

Being accepted in all these other and larger categories made his race nearly irrelevant. He is still one of the most admired people alive. When he appeared as the mystery person chosen to light the Olympic torch a few years back, there was hardly a dry eye to be found. Sure he was still black, still a Muslim, still a loudmouth. But he was also a man of great integrity, a man of principle, a man with a great sense of humor, and a champion. And for the overwhelming majority of people in the world, those are far more important facts than the color of his skin.

Today, though we don’t mention it nearly enough, heroes and role models can be any sex, any race, and any sexual orientation. Five years ago the most famous man on the planet, and one of the most admired, was Michael Jordan. His Chicago Bulls basketball jersey, number 23, outsold all other team jersey numbers combined. You saw them on kids of all colors, because color didn’t matter any more. Everybody wanted “to be like Mike.”

If anyone had simply said “love him because he’s black,” we wouldn’t remember his name now. But we were saying we loved or admired him because we had learned to define him in much larger categories. He embodied values we respected but could not demonstrate as dramatically as he did. Jordan was fiercely competitive, he played fair, he was the best player the game had ever seen, he seemed almost to will his Chicago Bulls to six world championships – defeating at least two teams that were better.

And whether you saw him in press conferences, commercials, or funny and satirical comedy skits on “Saturday Night Live,” you saw a quality of character you couldn’t help but admire – and, probably, envy. Michael Jordan, like Muhammed Ali, Jackie Robinson, Jesse Owens and Joe Louis, embodied the dream of Martin Luther King Jr., who hoped we would someday be able to judge people by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin. Slowly but surely, we are making progress in this, the most heterogeneous society on earth. Thirty years ago, interracial marriages were hardly ever seen. Today, 10% of the marriages in this country are between different races or ethnicities. And as it is with race, it is also becoming with sexual orientation, though we have farther to go there.

But Elton John was king of the world as an entertainer, and nobody cared that he was homosexual, and about as garish and flaming as you can get. Today there are many entertainers and actors who are openly gay, lesbian or bisexual, and who draw crowds because, more importantly, they’re talented, and we love talent.

Martina Navratilova was hated by some because she was a lesbian, but she was admired and applauded by far more, because for about a decade she was the greatest women’s tennis player in the world. The bigger categories trumped the smaller ones. She excelled in things we really cared about, and her differences from the sexual norms of the country became secondary, if they were even that important.

The social norms are changing for the better, and I think it is clear how they are changing and what the secret is, the secret of expanding our boundaries and welcoming people who differ from the social norms. We do have work to do, of course.

For one thing, we have to learn to accept a wider range of behaviors and life styles as parts of the social norm. We’re used to seeing couples holding hands. And the more couples we see holding hands who happen to be of the same sex, the more we’ll come to see it is natural that while most love is heterosexual, some love is homosexual, and what is important is that it is love. The more families we see where both parents are of the same sex, the easier it will be to understand that what we really value are loving parents. And if they’re loving parents and loving partners, we’ll be glad those kids have them, and glad those two people found each other.

It happens gradually, the way the rate of interracial marriage moved from almost zero to around ten percent.

But do you see what’s happening here, how and why it works? What’s happening is that when we begin to stop identifying ourselves by small or exclusive identities, it gets easier to feel related to one another. I think it is a self-defeating mistake for blacks, Hispanics, gays, lesbians – or for that matter religious liberals – to define themselves, or allow themselves to be defined, by the things that make them different from others. We should all want, instead, to be known by the content of our characters and the courage and compassion of our deeds.

So: how do we become welcoming people? The same way we become welcome people: by identifying ourselves and others only under the most important values and categories, the traits we all admire, the traits that can unite rather than divide us.

What are those? There’s no mystery here. We value people of integrity and courage, people of character. We value people who try to love, and try to offer their love out into the world in ways that give the world a blessing as they pass through it. We need and admire people who want to be in committed relationships, whether those relationships are with another person or with the larger human community. We admire and need good parents in our society, honest citizens, good workers and fair employers.

You know this list. You can finish it as well as I can. We admire and welcome people who act like they really are children of God, people with a little spark of divinity in them, folks who try to become better people, partners, parents and citizens: people who make our world better because they are in it. And the more we can identify ourselves and others by those standards rather than by lesser ones, the better our world will be. I do not believe that gay people want to be accepted merely as gay people, or that black people only want to be welcomed as our token blacks. I think they want what we all want: to be recognized and welcomed as our brothers and sisters, as children of a God of love. That’s the better world we need to create together.

How good can it get? Well, Jesus once taught that such a world, where we simply see ourselves as brothers, sisters and children of God, would be a world so perfect it could only be called the Kingdom of God. I can’t improve on that, so I’ll say “Thank you Jesus” – and Amen.

Walking On Water

© Davidson Loehr

10 June 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

PUPPET SHOW:

By Julie Irwin, Davidson Loehr, and the creative spirits of the No-Strings Puppetteers.

Characters – Whiney and Eeyore, Ted and Jessie. It’s a wide stage, the hand-puppets appear on center stage (Stage A) or the sides (Stage B).

SCENE I, STAGE A

(Whiney and Eeyore enter together. Whiny talks in a very high and whiny voice, and Eeyore talks very slowly and negatively like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.)

Whiney: People are so STUPID!

Eeyore: Yes, tell me about it. Just like you’d expect in this stupid world.

Whiney: And most people just aren’t that cool, do you know what I mean? We never get to meet any cool people!

Eeyore: Yeah, it just figures.

Whiney: Where are the other cool people? People who are in a good mood and everything and fun.

Eeyore: Maybe they all just DIED. That’s just what you’d expect with all this air pollution and crime and everything.

(Ted and Jessie enter separately, one at each side of the stage. They’re happy, seem friendly. Very different body language than the first two. Looser, more fun somehow. Whiney and Eeyore are together in the center of the stage. One at a time, in turns, they see and approach Whiney and Eeyore)

Ted: Hi! Who are you? What are you doing?

Whiny: I’m just sitting here waiting for some cool people. There are no cool people around here or anything. This place is BORING!

Ted: Well, I don’t know if I’m cool or anything, but do you want to play this game with me? It’s the new Playstation 3.

Whiny: No. I don’t want to just play with anyone who just comes along and asks me. Do you know any cooler people to play with? We never get those here.

Ted: There is that guy way over there, sitting on the Harley Davidson and singing a rap song. I think that’s Jennifer Lopez on the back of his bike. He looks cool.

Whiny: Yeah, but he hates me. He’s never nice to me.

Ted (aside, to the audience): I wonder why!

(long pause while Whiny looks out longingly toward the phantom cool guy, maybe in the church audience)

Whiny: I wish he would want to play with me, instead of you. (pause)

Ted: Ok, well, sorry to bother you. (leaves)

SCENE II, Stage B

Jessie: Hi! What are you doing?

Eeyore: What do you think I’m doing? Sitting here by myself, alone, lonely in the dark.

Jessie: Well, seems pretty bright to me. But do you want me to turn on the light?

Eeyore: What would be the point of that? Just wastes electricity (sigh).

Jessie: Well, we could talk and stuff, or maybe I could tell you a story.

Eeyore: I doubt it would be a funny story. What’s the point?

Jessie: You haven’t even heard it! Let me tell you: Once upon a time, there was a

Eeyore: You know, I need to leave my time free in case anything really fun comes along, even though it’s probably not going to.

(pause while Eeyore mopes)

Jessie: Ok, I guess I’ll go then. (leaves)

Eeyore: I knew it. Everyone always leaves. Why do I even bother?

SCENE III, STAGE A

Ted. Are you with THEM? (pointing down to where Whiny and Eeyore exited)

Jessie. Heck no! Who ARE they?

Ted. I don’t know. I think they moved into the green house last week.

Jessie. Oh. We were on vacation, we just got back last night. I’m Jessie. (extends his hand)

Ted: (Extends his hand) Hi Jessie, it’s nice to finally MEET somebody! I’m Ted, we just moved here from New Jersey. Listen Jessie, I have this new Play Station, and the snowboarder game is for two people. Would you like to play it with me?

Jessie. Cool! I’ve heard about the game, but I’ve never played it. Afterwards, would you like to come over to our house? I just got a copy of the movie Spy Puppets (Ted’gasp, Spy puppets) that I wanted to watch with somebody. I haven’t seen it yet, maybe we could watch it and microwave some popcorn?

Ted: That’s so great! I never saw Spy Puppets when it was in the theaters.

Jessie: It would be so neat if we could be friends, Ted!

Ted. It sure would, Jessie! I miss my friends from New Jersey, and I really want to make some new friends. I’ll show you how to play the game.

Jessie: Then let’s go watch Spy Puppets.

Ted: Great let’s go!

They exit together.

SCENE IV

Eeyore and Whiny enter again, slowly and still in a bad mood.

Whiny: We still don’t have any friends to hang out with!

Eeyore: Yeah, no one ever comes around here.

Shaking their heads, they exit.

SERMON: Walking on Water

What is the power behind miracles? Is it weird science? supernatural deities with nothing better to do than poke around in our lives? Or is the power where Jesus said the Kingdom of God is: within and among us? And even if this mysterious power is within and among us, what on earth does that mean, and what kind of “miracles” are we talking about?

This isn’t a scientific question. It’s more of a poetic or biographical question. It’s about how our attitudes and our courage create our world, whether friendly or unfriendly, and our possibilities, whether pinched or expansive, as in the puppet show.

There must be a hundred different ways to preach on this, and some of the challenge is finding one you haven’t thought of before. So I’ll weave together two stories, one factual and one mythical.

For those of you who don’t know the story of walking on water, it is a Christian story about Jesus walking across the water to his disciples, who are in a boat. The only minister I’ve ever discussed this with was my friend Todd Driskill, about fifteen years ago. Todd was a minister in the Disciples of Christ church – which is much more liberal up north than it is here in Texas. It made him crazy when his parishioners took biblical stories literally, whether it was walking on water or rising from the dead. For Todd, Jesus “rose from the dead” only in the minds of his disciples; and “walking on water” was an imaginative way of saying that Jesus could go places and do things his disciples couldn’t, because he had a faith that they lacked.

A century ago, there was an Austrian writer named Karl Kraus who is among my favorites, and one of his aphorisms reminds me of this kind of power. “I hear noises which others do not hear,” he wrote, “and they reveal to me the music of the spheres – which others don’t hear either.” Something in that is true, I think: “I hear noises which reveal to me the music of the spheres.” Jesus used to tell his parables, then complain that his disciples didn’t have “the eyes to see or the ears to hear” what they were really about. Jesus heard noises others didn’t hear, and he heard a harmony in life that others seldom hear either. So did the Buddha, Confucius, Lao-Tzu, and so many others. They walked on water. They went places few others go because they were sustained by a kind of faith in the basic goodness and the positive possibilities of life.

In the stories about these and other great sages, you almost always read that they went through hard personal tests and struggles to gain that faith, to be able to hear those noises. Fifteen years ago one of the hottest religion scholars in this country was Joseph Campbell. His six-part television series with Bill Moyers on “The Power of Myth” was seen by hundreds of millions of people. Over 2,000 study groups sprang up spontaneously in this country alone, for people to meet and discuss Campbell’s ideas.

And Campbell’s central idea was that one of the most transformative opportunities in life is the chance to go on what he called the Hero’s Quest. This is the three-step process by which both mythic heroes and exceptional people gained the authenticity, the personal power, that let them become the kind of people we want to keep telling stories about.

But back to my friend Todd.

He was a good minister and a good preacher, but biblical literalism really drove him nuts. His Christianity was too important to him to become something radical like a Unitarian, but he had been a minister about twelve years, and he wasn’t happy. He felt, as many ministers do, that his people wanted him to say he believed these stories literally, and – again like most ministers – he didn’t. Todd didn’t think he could tell the truth and keep his job, and if he couldn’t say what he believed, he thought he would lose his integrity. I can still hear him saying that if only people would read the Bible intelligently, it had enough in it to ground and guide a good life. But now, Todd needed to leave the only world he had ever really lived in – the world of orthodox Christianity – and find some place that could be a home for his spirit. Joseph Campbell used to call this the quest for “the lost Atlantis of the coordinated soul,” and it’s certainly what Todd yearned for.

In the Hero’s Quest, this is the first stage, known as The Call. You are called to be something or somewhere else, and it feels like your identity, your authenticity, is at stake. If you answer the call, you will have to leave the comfort of the familiar and risk a great deal.

But this is scary. Most of us can probably remember at least one time that we took a risk, spoke up when we had been afraid to, and did something we’re still proud of. We all have heroic quests, small and large. The great myths explode these experiences into grand stories of heroes slaying dragons or wrestling with God, of Buddha sitting under the Bo Tree and resisting irresistible temptations, Jesus resisting temptations of the Devil.

In the Middle Ages, when most of the world had not yet been explored by Europeans, sailors were afraid if you went too far you’d sail off the edge of the world. And mapmakers would mark unexplored waters with the warning “There be monsters here!” Psychologically, that’s still true. There be monsters in unexplored areas. There are dangers leaving the familiar, even when it doesn’t feel like a home any more. And it takes a lot of energy! Thirty years ago, when we were sending men to the moon, I remember reading that it took more fuel to get the space ship out of the earth’s gravitational pull than it took to go the half million miles from there to the moon and back. It takes a lot of energy to escape the gravitational pull of the familiar.

In 1991, Todd finally sailed into the waters where monsters lived. He resigned from his church and he, Marsha and their son Tyler moved to Summit, New Jersey, where he enrolled in a Ph.D. program at Drew University. He studied the bible, theology and philosophy. We had a lot of long and intense conversations about these things, by telephone and e-mail. He really wanted to teach churches, and ministers, how to read the bible in more intelligent ways. But he knew there wasn’t a paying job with that description anywhere, so he hoped to go into teaching at a seminary.

His faith was challenged in graduate school. He lost the rest of his naivete, and six years later his beliefs were much deeper, better informed, and far less orthodox. He came alive in a way I had never seen him. Marsha said he had found faith and hope again, and life had become an exciting possibility.

This is the second stage of the Hero’s Quest: leaving your familiar world, trading security for adventure and risk. This is the stage when storytellers say the hero slays dragons. The dragons, of course, are not really big scaly lizards; they are internal demons, ancient and primitive fire-breathing voices inside us that shout “No!” and want to scare us back into our old ways. Marsha could allow Todd to grow far beyond the boundaries of any kind of Christianity she had ever known. But they both came from big families, and Todd lost big parts of both families when his beliefs no longer seemed to overlap with theirs. Dragons. Monsters. Forces begging you, threatening you, to go back where you were before. These are hard struggles, as many of you know from your own lives.

The final stage of the Hero’s Quest is what Joseph Campbell called The Return. It isn’t just about going off to school or meditating in a cave and getting a private revelation, feeling groovy and being finished. The full spiritual quest can not be played out only within the stage of your mind. It must open out to the world, and find its own gifted way to play there, where it counts for more. There is a necessity, a command, to bring it back to the world and share it. Campbell used to say that “an authentic person rejuvenates the world.” I think it is true. And what the Hero’s Quest is about is gaining a deeper kind of authenticity, and confidence, and power.

Few people would claim, as Karl Kraus did, to be able to hear “the music of the spheres.” But you do hear some new noises, and you do hear some music. The music is the sense of a kind of harmony about life, a kind of safety, a feeling that there really weren’t monsters there, that the dragons can be slain, and a feeling that this news must be shared with others. I felt this way after graduate school. I still do. And so did Todd.

He was teaching in small colleges as an adjunct professor, sorry that the perfect job didn’t exist. I was sorry he couldn’t be in the ministry, because he was so good at it. Then in November of 1997, he got a phone call. It was from the Society for Biblical Literacy, a worldwide organization run by the Disciples of Christ churches. Their longtime director had died, and they had been advertising for a new one. One of Todd’s former district supervisors saw the ad and called them to say he knew the man for whom this job was created. They were already at the third interview stage with two candidates, but they phoned Todd to say they would be willing to fly him to Atlanta for an interview. At the end of that interview, they offered him the job and he accepted.

If this story were being written in a Bible, it would be called a miracle. And perhaps it was. Todd called me with the news, more excited than I had ever heard him. It was the job he had been born to do, but he would never have found it if he hadn’t taken the risks he took six years earlier, because the job required a Ph.D. in theology with a solid grounding in biblical studies.

I was both happy for him and proud of him. “How does it feel?” I asked. And my friend said “It feels like I’m walking on water – and it really is a miracle!” Ten years ago, Todd wasn’t happy. The world didn’t seem friendly, he couldn’t find a home in it, his spirit was starved. He was staying within the boundaries of his family and his friends, and he was losing his soul. Four years ago, the world was a friendly place. Todd was in love with life; he saw a world filled with possibilities and felt empowered in it. Now he heard noises that most others did not hear, and those noises told him of some of the music of the spheres, which most others didn’t hear either.

How can you write about transformations like this without resorting to mythical, magical language? If you leave out the feeling of miracle, you leave out the point of the story. Knowing people who have gone on the Hero’s Quest, having done some bits of it myself, makes it much easier to read the stories in the bible or in fairy tales or other myths and understand the kind of thing the writer was struggling to express. It’s also called being “born again,” being “born of the Holy Spirit.” It happens. I’ve seen it.

I need to tell you the end of Todd’s story. In December 1997, he was preparing to move with Marsha to Atlanta. Tyler was a sophomore at the University of Michigan, so just the two of them were moving, leaving the next day. Todd lifted an air conditioner into the rented truck, fell forward and died of a heart attack. He was 46. Three days later, I delivered the eulogy at his funeral, in the church he had grown up in. He died at the same age his father had died, and is buried next to him.

It wasn’t fair. But I wonder if any of you are tempted to think that Todd lost, after all. Don’t be. He didn’t lose, and he would have been the first to say so. We all die. We win by living with integrity and courage while we’re here. He spent the last six years of his life doing what he needed to do to become authentic the way he needed to. Marsha is remarried, Tyler begins law school this fall, and they both remember Todd as a brave man who took the road less traveled, and for whom taking that road really did make all the difference – both for him and for them. Tyler isn’t afraid of life, of taking chances, or of going on his own Hero’s Quest when the time comes. He knows it must be done, and he knows it can be done, because he saw his father do it. And Marsha also gained confidence and courage, and remembers those six years as transformative for her too. Todd’s life ended in the midst of a miracle that he didn’t live to see through. Maybe Marsha will. Maybe Tyler will. Maybe you will – for Todd’s story is in you too now, and it’s not one you’re likely to forget soon. So some miracle seeds have been planted here today. Perhaps they will sprout.

We’re born into a world of both fear and hope, refusal and possibility, and are asked which we shall serve. Most of the time, we stay on the paths with everyone else. Once in awhile we hear a call, offering us – if we are willing to work at it – the chance to walk on water. One path is safe and commonplace. The other is risky and uncertain. It’s a call from something that seems to know our true name. If we never answer the call, our story may not be either heroic or even very authentic. It may be like the story of Rip Van Winkle, who just went to sleep for twenty years and had nothing to show for the time but a beard. Sometimes in our lives, we come to a place where two roads diverge in the woods. We can follow the crowd, or we can take the road less traveled. It really does make all the difference.

Sacred Stories

© Davidson Loehr

27 May 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

One way we can get to know ourselves more intimately is by understanding what our sacred stories are. These are the plots, the scripts, the “necessary fictions” through which we find ourselves in the most comforting and compelling ways. We’re probably all living out the plots of some stories. We’ll look at some, and leave you the homework of wondering about your own story, how well you’re serving it, and how well it’s serving you.

STORY: The Great Stone Face

Once there were people who lived in a valley at the foot of a large mountain. High at the top of the mountain there was a face, a great face carved in the stone. The people said it was the face of a god. And if you could see that face clearly, they said, it would show you who you were, and how you were meant to live your life.

That sounded easy enough, but it was not. For the face was in a part of the mountain impossible to climb, and so high up it was almost always obscured by clouds or fog. Furthermore, the face seemed to look differently in different light, and no two people ever saw it exactly the same. But it was important, this face, because if only it could be seen clearly – well, then you would know who you really were, and who you were meant to be. And so the people studied what they could see of the face, as best they could, and they told others what they thought they saw.

Stories even arose, stories about times that the great face had actually spoken to someone, and what the great face had said. People wrote these things down, and tried to make a list of do’s and don’ts for living, but no two lists ever completely agreed. Still the people told their stories, and listened to the stories of others, because after all there was so much at stake, if only they could get it right.

And as they believed they understood the message of the great face in the stone, they tried to live in the ways they felt they were meant to live. Usually, this just meant they tried to be kind to one another, to be good neighbors, to work hard, to make their little valley a better place and so on, as you would expect. There were always a few, of course, who did not care much about making the valley a better place. They lived to chase after power or wealth or other things like that, and they too, if pressed on it, would argue that this was the way the great face of stone had intended things to be.

From time to time, as you would also expect, there were people who said that all of this was just nonsense, that there was no face at all in the stones above, that these were just these silly myths. And it was certainly true that if there was a face up there in the rocks, it was very faint, so faint that you couldn’t even be sure you were seeing anything at all.

Yet others would then say that without the face, and the stories about the face, the people in the valley might not have been so eager to be decent to one another, and then what kind of world would they have? After all, you needed something to live for, and some kind of rules to live by.

But as any visitor or other objective person could see, if there was any face at all up there, it was too vague to be clear about, even on a sunny day. All you could be sure of was that the people had these stories, and they lived by them. Should there be an expedition to the top of the mountain to try and see once and for all what the great face of stone was trying to say? Or should they instead be paying more attention to their stories, and their lives? If they could never see the great face clearly, then all they had were their stories, and their efforts to live well together. And if someone swore that the great face had indeed spoken clearly but the way it wanted them to live made no sense, either to individuals or to the community, then who would have cared what the great stone face said, anyway?

Well, as you can tell, this is not settled, neither within that valley nor elsewhere. And yet there is something here of importance, and we cannot seem to stop thinking and talking about it.

SERMON: Sacred Stories

There is a wonderful old story about stories; it is the legend of Sheherezade. She was condemned to death by an immature, woman-hating tyrant. To save her life and the lives of others, she began telling the tyrant a story the night before he was going to have her killed, and she ended the story in mid-air, to be finished the next night. He let her live another night because he wanted to hear the ending. But she was no fool, and the story kept going on, for a thousand and one nights, until through her stories she had finally softened his heart, and opened his eyes and ears. She awakened the decent person that was inside of this tyrant. The decent person was waiting like a Sleeping Beauty, for someone who could reach his soul and break the evil spell under which his life was being lived.

I like the Sheherezade legend because it shows some of the power of stories to change our lives. But I also like it because we are all under the spell of Sheherezade. We all tell our stories in order to live. And we tell them, as well, in order to transform both ourselves and others into the people we think we were meant to be.

We live trying to act the way we think we should, trying to conform to some image of who we are supposed to be, how those we care for want or need us to act, some picture of how life is to be. And when you watch how we live, it’s clear that we are giving those pictures, those mostly unspoken stories, immense power. We’re puppets, they’re the strings. And we move and obey as though our stories were sacred – which, to us, they usually are.

And there’s the rub! If only all our stories were sacred! But they’re not. We all live by some stories that aren’t worthy of us, that don’t cherish us or even affirm our basic worth or honor our spirit, our energy, the things we really love. The more a story can do that, the more sacred it is, and the more it serves life. The less a story does that, the more profane and unworthy it is.

I’ll give you an example of someone living out a very powerful – and famous – story without even being aware of it. About ten years ago I was the theme speaker at the weeklong Unitarian summer camp at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. There were about 600 adults and 400 kids there, from ten or twenty states, so none of us knew many of the people. But since I was more visible than the other ministers there, a lot of folks cornered me during the week to tell me their stories. I spoke with one woman who told me her problem was that she just couldn’t seem to do enough. She was working hard at everything, sacrificing herself to her husband, her children, and nearly anyone else who asked. But her life felt empty, she didn’t seem to be getting anything out of it, didn’t seem to be getting anything back from all this giving she was doing. I recognized her story, and asked her if she thought she was supposed to be getting something out of it. She got a little indignant and said yes, it’s supposed to work that way: you give and you give, but eventually, you get back, too, and that’s what makes it all worth it.

That’s what I mean by a script, a guiding fiction, a myth to live by. There is a story being lived out not only by that woman, but by millions of women and men – though that one is mostly a women’s story. But there is no way to help this woman do well enough to get what she wants, because she is living out a story that is not likely to have a happy ending unless she can change the4 behavior of the other characters in her life. She is living out the story of Cinderella, who works and slaves for others, and whose only hope is that somehow a fairy Godmother will see her pure heart, reward her with a handsome prince, and usher in a kind of Judgement Day, when all who have wronged her will be punished. Probably, the only way she can win is to get out of this story and find a different kind of role to play, because in real life – as you have noticed by now – there is a serious shortage of fairy godmothers.

Cinderella is only a fairy tale. But the best fairy tales have plots that have been told many times in many other ways. This Cinderella script, for example, has been compared to the ancient Greek story of Persephone, the obedient daughter. It’s also a lot like a traditional script for women found in many religions, that says you spend your whole life giving to men, to children, and to all others who ask, you spend your life as a Suffering Servant, and you’ll get your reward in heaven.

To be fair, you have to say that this role is not always, or even necessarily, bad. It depends on the other characters in the story, and what roles they are playing. This is often a very rewarding role for women, because their husband, children, and friends do appreciate and love them not in heaven but here and now for their hard work and their good heart.

Nor do you have to be a woman to find yourself in this story. College students living on no money in crummy apartments can identify with Cinderella too, where the role of the fairy godmother will be played by their eventual employer who makes all of this sacrifice worth it. And that usually happens. So it is not necessarily a bad story. But sometimes, a story like that Cinderella story, that “pay now, fly later” script – sometimes it only makes people perpetual victims. And then the only way out of it is to get out of the story, and find a better myth to live by – a more sacred story that treats you like a more sacred person.

Bad stories enslave us to visions that are profane because they are too small to hold our spirits and serve our destinies. Most Cinderellas are perpetual victims. Little visions demean and degrade us; expansive visions ennoble and honor us, and call us toward greater things. That’s what I mean by looking for and changing to a sacred story.

Changing from a small story to a bigger one can make a huge difference. I had a very simple revelation of this sort just yesterday morning. It isn’t dramatic, but it’s the kind of “Aha!” experience you have had before too. I was riding my new bicycle on the Hike & Bike trail that runs along both sides of Town Lake downtown. As some of you know, that’s about a ten-mile loop, going along the north side of the river, then crossing over several bridges and running back along the south side.

The trail, as the name says, is for both bicycles and people who are walking or running. It isn’t all that wide a trail though, and as I got more exhausted and dehydrated, I noticed that those walkers seemed to think they owned the whole path! They’d just spread out, two or three across, so they could talk, forgetting there were bicyclists trying to get by! While I’m riding the bike, I start thinking to myself “Well, get out of the way, will you? It’s supposed to be a bike path!” Then while I had stopped to rest (and work on this sermon), I saw a bicycle brush by some walkers pretty closely. I knew just how she felt! After she had passed them, one of the walkers turned to the others and said “Damned bicycles!”

I began fantasizing about all the bicyclists getting together, hiring a lawyer, and filing some kind of a class action suit against all the walkers, to establish bikers’ rights. Then I imagined that all the walkers and runners would do the same thing, and sue to have the bicyclists removed from the path. After just a short while I stopped that, because it began feeling too much like the world we’re already living in.

Finally, somewhere around the 6th or 7th mile, I backed off, drank a lot of water, and thought about it again. That’s when the minor revelation came, and I said “Oh wait, I get it; it’s not like a clash of bikers’ rights versus walkers’ rights. It’s supposed to be like a kind of dance, and we’re all supposed to help choreograph it so we can move together.” Suddenly, the bike ride was a lot different, and a lot more fun. I was more aware of the whole pattern of movements of bikers, runners and walkers going both ways, and of trying to blend my movements in among theirs so the dance went more gracefully.

When my story got bigger, my life got better. A bigger and more inclusive story is closer to a sacred story than a smaller one. And it pulls you into a bigger and more positive picture of life with its affirmations, rather than shutting you out with its self-centered walls, the way battles of individual rights and entitlements can. I’ll take my bike back there tonight for another round of dancing.

I’m trying to plant the idea that we have the power to change from a small story to a bigger one, and that change makes a huge difference in the quality of our life and our joy in living it.

Let me give you some more examples, from the field of psychology. I don’t think of psychology the way most psychologists do. Our fields overlap, because the word “psychology” means the structure and understanding of the soul – “psyche” is the Greek word for “sou.” I don’t think psychology is a science. I think that psychology, like religion, is an imaginative art. There are many different kinds of psychology, of course, and each school of psychology adopts a basic story, a basic set of assumptions about people, and use that to interpret the lives of their clients – or even to force life to fit theirstory. I’ll give you two vignettes to let you feel how the same life transition can be seen through several very different stories.

The first is a story about the childhood of Manuel Manoleta. He died in 1947, but many bullfight fans still regard him as the greatest and most courageous bullfighter in Spain’s history. When Manoleta was a child, however, he was neither great nor brave. He was delicate and sickly, interested only in painting and reading. He stayed indoors and clung to his mother’s apron so much that his sisters and other children used to tease him. He rarely joined other boys’ games of soccer or playing at bullfighting. But when he was eleven, all of this suddenly changed, and for the rest of his life, nothing much mattered to him except the bulls. In his first bullfight, while still a young boy, those who were there said he stood his ground without moving an inch. (from The Soul’s Code by James Hillman, pp. 15-16)

What kind of a story could we use to explain this radical transformation? Psychologists who followed Alfred Adler would recognize this as classic compensation, where his adult bravery was just to make up for feeling inadequate as a boy. Freudians would go even farther, seeing this as sublimation, and would describe his adult bravery in the bull ring as just his childhood fears trying to wear masks to fool people. He remains a damaged and frightened boy all his life in this story. It is not a sacred story. It denies both real courage and a nobility of spirit to Spain’s greatest bullfighter, by reducing him to fit a very mechanical kind of story to which some – though not all – psychologists have become addicted. I’ve always thought of Freudian psychology – and most of traditional psychology – as a kind of cousin to the field of hydraulics. They deal with pressures from one part of life that exert pressures on another part of life until they’re released or resolved. Not all Freudians agree with this interpretation, of course.

The second explanation of Manoleta’s transformation comes from the Jungian psychologist James Hillman. Hillman sees the boy hiding behind his mother’s apron as a boy called to great acts of courage for which he is not yet ready. He is scared of his calling, scared of the greater dangers he must prepare himself to face. Something in him drives him toward his personal destiny. At age eleven, he was ready. And from that time on, the “apron” behind which he hid was bright red, meant to attract the danger of thousand-pound bulls. In this story, little Manoleta had a great calling, even as a child, and his life’s destiny was to grow into that calling and become Spain’s greatest bullfighter.

The second story grants Manoleta dignity, and gives him credit for his courage, while the first brushes it all off as the false costume worn by a neurotic and frightened child. The second story is ennobling; the first is demeaning. Let’s do another one. A similar pattern occurred in the childhood of the great violinist Yehudi Menuhin. When he was only three, he heard a concert violinist play a stunning solo at a concert. He felt from that moment that he was meant to play the violin, and asked his parents if they would buy him a violin for his fourth birthday. They humored him by buying him a toy violin made of metal. He burst into sobs, threw it on the ground and would have nothing to do with it. He wanted a real violin, not a toy one. At that time, he wasn’t ready for a real violin. His hands were too small (Hillman, p. 17).

A Freudian psychologist could explain all his later success as compensation or sublimation to cover his childhood humiliation. I don’t think those are good stories because they can’t see the spirit, the calling that Yehudi Menuhin felt even at that young age. (Or, to put more of a point on it, it’s a psychology that has left out the psyche, the soul.) James Hillman suggests instead that he felt a high and noble calling as a three-year-old, and spent the rest of his distinguished life answering and serving that calling as one of the world’s greatest violinists. Hillman’s story is a sacred story because it affirms life, rather than explaining profound and creative drives away as though they were nothing but the neurotic charades of a damaged young boy.

Hillman calls this his “acorn theory” of psychology. He suggests that we carry within us the awareness of the kind of person we are called to be. We are born with a certain distinct style, and need to develop in certain ways to fulfill that style. We are called toward certain things, but not others, and we need to pursue those things toward which we are called. We are driven to certain experiences and adult paths to fulfill real and healthy callings. We’re not driven by neurotic reaction against childhood injuries, but by the sacred calling that wants to connect us with life. That’s a sacred story.

I agree with James Hillman that “We need a fresh way of looking at the importance of our lives,” (p. 33) Another psychologist I’ve always liked is Rollo May, who once defined psychotherapy as “the search for an adequate personal mythology.” That’s what I’m calling a sacred story: an adequate personal mythology, a myth worth living by.

We are the people living in that valley where we look up to see a vague but important face carved in the rock high above. We know there is something terribly significant about that face. Somehow, it calls us toward a noble, even a sacred, destiny. We are not quite sure what that is, for the face seems to change as you move through life, or as you view it from different perspectives.

Or perhaps this is just a myth. Perhaps there is no face up there in the rocks at all. There may have been long ago, but the image seems to be worn away beyond recognition now, and all we have are the stories. They are not much. Children’s stories, fables, old myths, tales and images from our sacred scriptures – these are about all that we have. And so we tell those stories, as Sheherezade did, in order to live. That is why it is so important to know these guiding fictions that shape our lives and to find better myths to live by: because we are all under the spell of Sheherezade. We all tell our stories in order to live.

What about you? What are your stories? What roles are you playing? What are you serving with your life? And is it worthy of that spark of life inside of you that is only really happy when you are being true to yourself?

What if it is true that your heart, your soul, holds the image of your destiny and calls you to it? Unpacking the image can take a lifetime, because we tend to keep forgetting what we are meant to be. But according to a Jewish legend, the evidence for this forgetting your soul’s calling is pressed right into your upper lip. That little crevice below your nose is where the angel pressed its forefinger to seal your lips. That little indentation is all that is left to remind you of the fact that your guiding angel is a part of you, trying to tell you what to do. That is why, they say, when we are trying to recall an insight or a lost thought, our fingers go up to that spot. Could it be true? Well, it is certainly loving, affirming and life-giving. And if it is that loving, affirming and life-giving, if it leads us into a bigger world and a more authentic life, isn’t that precisely the kind of truth for which you yearn?

LoveTalk

© Davidson Loehr

20 May 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

I remember, some years ago, hearing a grand old preacher describe almost all religious literature as “love-talk.” He didn’t elaborate, so it’s been rattling around inside since then. It seems like a way of understanding religious expression that makes it easy to plant fantastic thoughts in a down-to-earth life with integrity.

SERMON: Love Talk

This sermon title comes from an 89-year-old preacher who is a friend of mine. I heard him use it during a sermon on Christmas, in which he spoke of all the miraculous and mythic stuff – the virgin birth, a Son of God, a savior – and said it wasn’t meant to be fact-talk; it was love-talk. That’s all he said about it, but those two words stuck with me. That’s the “key” I want to play this morning’s sermon in: thinking about other kinds of “love-talk,” and how they differ from the way we usually talk. You can find examples everywhere.

I hear a Christian friend say “God has led me in warm and wise paths.” At first, I may think “Well, I’m not sure you were led. You’re looking back on it and finding positive rather than negative patterns according to the stories of your faith.” Then I think, “Well, their words sound a lot more comforting and warm than mine do!” I was talking intellectual talk; they were talking love talk.

Or a young man comes in, wracked with guilt because at 32 he knows he’s a failure. He knows he’s let down everybody he cares about, and that he will never amount to anything. Apparently, there is a story I’m not aware of that says unless you have it all together by 32 you’re worthless. He needs a better story, because that one doesn’t give him many options or any respect. But he doesn’t need scientific data about his “Success Quotient.” He needs a better way of talking to himself, a way that has some warmth and acceptance about it. It can be the difference between saying, “She’s an idiot!” and saying. “She certainly sees things differently than I do!”

It’s easy for 50, 60, or 70-something folks to listen to the wild-eyed scheme of a 30-something, and to think, “Those young people think they can do anything! They haven’t lived long enough to know that life is tough.” A more honest response, though, would usually be something like, “I feel intimidated and old by their optimism and courage, because I remember, years ago, when I had it. I wonder what happened to me? I wonder if I could learn how to trust again if I paid attention to them?”

The first kind of talk is self-centered, exclusive talk that shuts others out because it restricts everyone’s possibilities to the limit of our understanding and trust. The second kind of talk assumes that the other people are our moral equals. Or, to put it poetically, that we are all children of God, all limbs on the body of humanity, that we’re all temporary vehicles of life’s precious gift to itself. There’s a warmth to the second that is not in the first. The first wants to stand on cold hard facts; the second wants to establish warm, living connections. That’s a big difference.

150 years ago, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote a few paragraphs about someone who was led from the first way of talking to the brink of the second. The story has been in my mind since I first read it maybe 15 years ago, though this is the first time I’ve ever used it. But see how it fits here:

“The monk, Friar Bernard, lamented in his cell on Mount Cenis the crimes of mankind. Rising one morning before day from his bed of moss and dry leaves, he gnawed his roots and berries, drank of the spring, and set forth to go to Rome to reform the corrupt [people there]. On his way he encountered many travelers who greeted him courteously; and the cabins of the peasants and the castles of the lords supplied his few wants. When he came at last to Rome, his piety and good will easily introduced him to many families of the rich, and on the first day he saw and talked with gentle mothers with their babes at their breasts, who told him how much love they bore their children, and how they were perplexed in their daily walk lest they should fail in their duty to them. “What!” he said, “and this on rich embroidered carpets, on marble floors, with [expensive] sculpture, and carved wood, and rich pictures, and piles of books about you? [You’re rich Roman pagans, not even Christians! How can you be good people!”]

“Look at our pictures, and books,” they said, “and we will tell you, good Father, how we spent the last evening. These are stories of godly children and holy families and sacrifices made in old or in recent times by great and not mean persons; and last evening, our family was collected, and our husbands and brothers spoke [sadly] on what we could save and give to others in the hard times.” Then the men came in, and they said, “[Greetings, good brother!] Does your monastery want gifts? [Let us share with you.]” Then the Friar Bernard went home swiftly with other thoughts than he had brought, saying, “Their way of life is wrong – [they are not even poor, and they are not Christians!] Yet these Romans, whom I prayed God to destroy, are lovers, they are lovers; what can I do?” (Emerson, “The Conservative,” in The Oxford Book of Essays, p. 181)

Friar Bernard has a couple choices. He can try to forget what he’s just seen and felt, and return to his comfortable beliefs, or he can realize that his beliefs are too small to hold life, or even to serve it in a way that isn’t a curse to others. What does it take to let go of small certainties and grow toward larger but less certain understandings? How do we learn to trust rather than doubt, to hope rather than fear? Or to put it in terms of another metaphor, how do we shift gears?

I’m thinking about shifting because I just bought a bicycle yesterday, and this thing has 24 gears. Last time I owned a bike, a ten-speed was tops, so 24 sounds like a lot. It means this image of all that gear shifting has become a metaphor that I can’t get out of my mind today. So it’s like shifting gears while bicycling up a hill, and suddenly you’re moving slower but you’re climbing the hill you could never have made it up in your original gear.

For me, that’s a little like changing my way of thinking and talking. When I have moved from an attitude of certainty like the Friar’s, an attitude that shuts out everybody not like me, into a more optimistic and trusting attitude, it’s usually come through something happening that shifts my gears. A couple years ago in Albany, I was impatient and angry with a waitress who wasn’t refilling my coffee, wasn’t around when I needed her, and didn’t pick up the money I left with the bill for five full minutes. So I paid the bill and don’t leave a tip. That felt better. Then as I left I saw her in the hallway back by the kitchen. She was crying, another waitress was holding her, and I learned that her father was dying. I snuck back to the table to leave a tip, with an anonymous note saying, “I overheard you telling the other waitress that your father is dying. I’m so sorry.” The service didn’t get any better after I heard that, but the waitress did. And the tip wasn’t for being a waitress; it was for reminding me that she was a human being.

It seems that stories are the best way to talk about the difference between closed attitudes or open caring, between judgment talk and love talk. Here’s another one:

A preacher is riding the city bus on a Saturday, thinking about his sermon, trying to concentrate. The bus stops in front of a big hospital and several people get on. Among them is a man with two young boys. The man sits down, and the boys begin running up and down the bus, screaming and yelling. The father just sits there, doesn’t even lift a finger to control his bratty kids. The preacher tries to be patient, but my God the kids are brats, their father won’t act like a responsible parent, this is a city bus, the preacher has this sermon to write, and enough is enough! So he walks across the aisle and leans down near the man, then says quietly but with a distinct edge, “Sir, I wish you would control your children!” The man looks up at him, kind of dazed, and says, “Oh yes, yes, I should. My wife, their mother, has just died and I guess they don’t know how to handle it either.”

Suddenly, you can hear the sound of about twelve gears shifting at once. The preacher’s first reaction was fair. It was a public space, the kids were out of control, and it is fair to expect parents to teach their children to act respectfully toward others. He wasn’t wrong. But he forgot that in this world sometimes people die and those who loved them don’t know what to do with it. Now he suddenly recognizes that man and his sons as people just like him, who bleed when they’re cut and cry or come unglued when they’re devastated. It can happen as quickly as that, the shift from rejecting to accepting, from judging to empathy and caring. It can happen as quickly as that.

“Love-talk” is a clumsy title for a sermon, I know. I mean by it a warmer and more accepting way of seeing ourselves and others, a way that moves us from being against others to feeling among them, a way that replaces cold hard facts with warm living ones.

To put it in the terms of children’s stories, it’s like shifting from Chicken Little, who lived his life sure that the sky was falling, to The Little Engine That Could, who dissolved his doubt and fear by deciding that he thought he could, he thought he could, and he did.

And the point I am trying to make is that we get caught up in our cold hard factual views so easily and so often that we can completely miss out on the chance to be part of something bigger and warmer. Like Friar Bernard and those noble Romans, or the preacher and the grieving, shattered kids and their dad. It isn’t just that we owe this kinder self to others, it’s that without that genuine regard for others we lose out too.

This reminded me of another story that has been in my head since I read it over a decade ago, but which I had also never seen a way to use in a sermon before. It’s a short piece with a surprise ending, by the science fiction writer Ursula Le Guin. See if it sticks to you the way it’s stuck to me:

In the humid New England summer the small cooling plant ran all day, making a deep, loud noise. Around the throbbing machinery was a frame of coarse wire net. I thought the bird was outside that wire net, then I hoped it was, then I wished it was. It was moving back and forth with the regularity of the trapped: the zoo animal that paces twelve feet east and twelve feet west, hour after hour; the heartbeat of the prisoner in the cell before the torture; the unending recurrence; the silent, steady panic. Back and forth, steadily fluttering between two wooden uprights just above a beam that supported the wire screen: a sparrow, ordinary, dusty, scrappy. I’ve seen sparrows fighting over territory till the feathers fly, and [flocking] cheerfully on telephone wires, and in winter gathering in trees in crowds like dirty little Christmas ornaments and talking all together like noisy children – chirp, chirp, chirp chirp! But this sparrow was alone, trapped in wire and fear. What could I do? There was a door to the wire cage, but it was padlocked. I went on. I tell you I felt that bird beat its wings right here, here under my breastbone in the hollow of my heart. I said in my mind, Is it my fault? Did I build the cage? Just because I happened to see it, is it my sparrow? But my heart was low already, and I knew now that I would be down, down like a bird whose wings won’t bear it up, a starving bird.

Then on the path I saw the man, one of the campus managers. The bird’s fear gave me courage to speak. “I’m so sorry to bother you,” I said. “I’m just visiting here at the librarians” conference – we met the other day in the office. I didn’t know what to do, because there’s a bird that got into the cooling plant there, inside the screen, and it can’t get out. The noise of the machinery, I think the noise confuses it, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll have a look,” he said, not smiling, not frowning.

He turned and came with me. He saw the bird beating back and forth, back and forth in silence. He unlocked the padlock. He had the key.

I watched the open door, “I saw the bird fly out and fly away.”

The man and I closed the door. He locked it. “Be getting on,” he said, not smiling, not frowning, and went on his way, a man with a lot on his mind, a hard-working man. But did he have no joy in it? That’s what I think about now. Did he have the key, the power to set free, the will to do it, but no joy in doing it? It is his soul I think about now, if that is the word for it: the spirit: that sparrow. (“The Sparrow” by Ursula K. LeGuin)

That’s a story almost guaranteed to trouble ministers! We try to do what we can to be of service to others. We have to keep checking to make sure that we aren’t doing it mechanically, that it is still giving meaning and joy to us. But of course it isn’t true only for ministers, it’s something we can all fall into. It’s an old commandment; you’ve all heard it, to “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” That love needs to go both ways: to the neighbor, and to yourself. Why is that so easy to forget?

At the beginning of all our services, I speak of “questions more profound than answers.” I think that life’s most enduring questions are more profound than answers. They can pry open a door of our awareness, or shift gears for us, so we leave here seeing things a little differently, perhaps asking different questions of ourselves. Today, I’m going to leave you with questions, because I can’t tell you what kind of love-talk you need to hear, what picture of the world you need to live in that brings you life rather than just adding time.

But I do have one more story, to set up the questions. It comes from my favorite philosopher, Ludwig Wittgenstein. He was trying to respond to someone who thought what was most important was knowing the truth. Wittgenstein gave him this story to think about. Imagine there was this man who lived at a certain time. He was a very religious man, and believed all the teachings of his particular faith. They gave him a sense of living in a blessed world, and through these beliefs, he lived and died at peace, a happy man who loved others and was loved by everyone who met him. Then, just two weeks after he died, one of the sciences suddenly discovered that everything he believed had been false. Very well, his beliefs were false. But could you say his life was false? And if not, then just what is the role of truth in the task of living fully, lovingly and well?

"Our War on Drugs: A Mothers' Day Sermon"

© Davidson Loehr

13 May 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

READING: A Mother’s Day Proclamation

In this country, the Unitarian Julia Ward Howe was the first to try and start a Mother’s Day, back in 1870 – though it would have been a very different kind of Mother’s Day than we now have. She had lived through the Civil War. She even wrote the words for “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” But she saw some of the worst effects of the war: not only the death and disease, which killed and maimed the soldiers. She worked with the widows and orphans of soldiers on both sides of the war, and realized the effects of war go beyond the killing of soldiers in battle. She also saw the economic devastation of the Civil War, the economic crises that followed the war. In 1870, she was distressed at the rise of the Franco-Prussian War, distressed that war seemed to be part of the human condition rather than a one-time slip. So she called for women to rise up and oppose war in all its forms. She wanted to organize a Mother’s Day for Peace, and for that she wrote the declaration which appears as responsive reading #573 in our hymnals:

Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or of fears! Say firmly: “We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies, our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience. We women of one country will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says, “Disarm, Disarm!” The sword of murder is not the balance of justice! Blood does not wipe out dishonor nor violence indicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet firs, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, and each bearing after her own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.

CENTERING:

Mother’s Day has been a national observance in this country on the second Sunday of May since 1914. And so it is Mothers’ Day:

– For mothers, whether they gave birth to the children or adopted them;

– For mothers who have lost a child, through miscarriage, abortion, adoption, or death, and who still feel the loss.

– For those who have never had children but who miss being mothers, and who are mothers in their hearts who express their nurture in other ways;

– For our own mothers, and theirs, as far back as our living memory will carry us;

– And for all who have lost their mothers, and still feel that loss.

It is Mothers’ Day. Let us remember all the varieties of mothers in all of our lives in gratitude and prayer.

And let us remember in prayer those other names, which we now speak aloud or in the silence of our hearts.

SERMON: Our War On Drugs: A Mothers’ Day Sermon

When President Woodrow Wilson declared the first national Mother’s Day in 1914, it was a very different day than Julia Ward Howe had intended.

Today, Mother’s Day is largely celebrated with trips to a special restaurant, gifts and flowers. That’s not a bad thing; it’s a good thing. Mothers — and fathers — deserve all the recognition and all the pampering they can get.

But something was lost when we lost the roots of this day in its gutsy opposition to wars that killed the children of mothers. And it is that spirit I want to honor today, by spending a little time on a war that is doing more violence, creating more crime and draining the economy faster than any other war we have going. This is our war on drugs.

On April 25th, I was invited to attend a luncheon for and speech by Judge James Gray, a Superior Court judge from California with over 20 years on the bench, who has been crusading for a fundamental overhaul of our drug laws for the past nine years. I bought his book, and also read a magazine filled with articles from others with long stints in law enforcement who also argue that, in every way imaginable, our war on drugs is even more ill-conceived and harmful than we can imagine.

America’s widespread use of cocaine began at least 115 years ago, when cocaine was an ingredient in Coca-Cola from 1886 to 1900, and Bayer Pharmaceutical Products introduced heroin in 1898, and sold it over the counter for a year before Bayer offered aspirin. Those are just interesting little facts you may not have known.

But our most famous mistakes – before the mistakes we are making in today’s war against drugs — came with the prohibition of alcohol, from 1920 to 1933. During this fourteen-year period, our country saw a huge increase in crime, violence, police and political corruption, and death from poisoned liquor. It also saw a high consumption per capita of stronger beverages like whiskey instead of weaker beverages like beer, in accordance with a cardinal rule of prohibition: there is always more money to be made in pushing the more concentrated substances. It’s cheaper and easier to transport a fifth of whiskey than a case of beer. We spent a lot of money to make strong alcohol more plentiful, more expensive, and more deadly. It wasn’t the last time we would employ this remarkable tactic.

Federal funding for law enforcement efforts against alcohol was increased over five times in the 1920s; the prison population quadrupled, with two-thirds of inmates incarcerated for alcohol and other drug offenses. However, the national murder rate increased steadily throughout alcohol prohibition. Then it decreased for eleven consecutive years after Prohibition was ended. The only phase of Prohibition that worked was when we ended it, took the federal government out of it, and let each state decide how to handle its local problems.

Marijuana was our next failure, in the 1930s. We treated it in exactly the same way, with exactly the same results, only more devastating.

We now know that one lasting effect of prohibiting marijuana was the growth of drug cartels in countries like Colombia to process and distribute not marijuana but cocaine in this country. The reason was the same as selling whiskey rather than beer: the more concentrated form was easier to conceal and transport, and far more profitable.

In 1970, President Richard Nixon formally declared that America was at war against drugs. A 1984 law increased bail and lengths of sentences for drug offenders, and also increased federal power.

In 1986 we added mandatory minimum sentences for simple possession of drugs. The Crime Bill of 1994 provided for capital punishment for some types of drug selling and for mandatory sentences of 20 years to life.

Every time we have tightened up our drug laws with all of this “get tough” stuff, the harms inflicted on society by the presence of these drugs have just increased. The laws have been successful in filling our prisons with the less organized, less violent, less brilliant offenders, leaving this lucrative market to be filled by those who were more organized, more violent, and smarter. (Judge James P. Gray, Why Our Drug Laws Have Failed and What We Can Do About It: A Judicial Indictment of the War on Drugs [Temple University Press, 2001], p. 31)

Two things are really driving this failed drug policy today: our political system, which rewards (by electing) the politicians who posture as being the “toughest on drugs” – like our newly-appointed Drug Czar – and the “runaway freight train” of federal money. The annual budget for our War on Drugs is now about $20 billion, which does not even begin to take into account all of the additional state and federal budgets for the hundreds of other programs.

What has it bought us? Some dramatic statistics, for one thing. Between 1973 and 1983, the number of state and federal prisoners in the US doubled to about 660,800; and then that number more than doubled again by 1993 to 1,408,685. We had 668 inmates for every 100,000 residents. That gave the US a higher rate of incarceration than any other country in the world except Russia, which reported a rate of 685. (Gray, p. 29)

There are six times more people behind bars in this country than in all twelve of the countries that make up the European Union combined, even though they have 100 million more citizens. More people are behind bars for drug offenses in the US than are incarcerated in England, France, Germany, and Japan for all crimes combined. The state of California has more people incarcerated than France, Great Britain, Germany, Japan, Singapore, and the Netherlands combined, even though California has only about one-tenth of their combined populations. In fact, the US, with less than five percent of the world’s population, has one-quarter of the world’s prisoners. (p. 30)

Let’s put the danger posed by illegal drugs in perspective. Over 500,000 people die in the US each year as a result of the use of legal drugs – tobacco and alcohol – while less than 10,000 die per year from the combined use of all illegal drugs. Yet someone is arrested for a marijuana offense somewhere in the US every forty-five seconds. That number is almost as high as the number of total arrests for all murders, rapes, robberies, and aggravated assaults combined (695,201 to 717,720). (p. 30)

We have made lifetime prisoners out of a nonviolent underclass of drug-using and addicted people. The average prison term for drug offenders in state prisons has increased – up 22 percent since 1986. But in the same period, average prison terms in state prisons for violent offenders have decreased by 30 percent. (p. 32)

Another result of prison overcrowding is that wardens throughout the country are routinely forced to grant an early release to violent offenders so that nonviolent drug offenders can serve their sentences in full. This is because, for the most part, federal law requires that even nonviolent drug offenders must serve their entire sentences; however, there is no such law for bank robbers, kidnappers, or other violent offenders.

Texas is number one in prison incarceration. Louisiana and Oklahoma are second and third, but we don’t have to worry about losing our Number One status for awhile. It costs taxpayers between $20,000 and $30,000 to keep just one inmate confined for a year. The average cost for a state inmate over the age of fifty-five increases to about $69,000 per year because of increased health costs. (37)

And here’s a statistic that might be interesting. After six years on the job the yearly salary of a California prison guard with a high school diploma was $45,000 in 1994. At the same time, the starting salary of a tenured University of California associate professor with a Ph.D. was $43,100. For prison guards, stiff mandatory sentences mean job security. So you won’t be surprised to learn that in the 1998 election, the association of prison guards (California Correctional Peace Officers Association [CPOA]) was the state’s number one donor to legislative races, with donations to all campaigns totaling $5.3 million. These contributions included a $100,000 donation to a group working for the passage of a tough three-strikes sentencing ballot measure. This $5 million wasn’t spent for the good of the state; it was spent to insure jobs for prison guards. The money we are spending on our drug war – while it has only made the drug problem a thousand times worse – has infected many federal and state agencies, many professions and unions, whose jobs are fueled by this money, and who therefore find reasons to support it. But they are not supporting it for the health of the country. They are supporting it for the security of their jobs and their purpose. They aren’t evil people; they’re just people, with the full helping of self-interest that most of us have.

Police are even better at catching women for drug offenses. Between 1986 and 1996, the number of women imprisoned for drug offenses increased by 888 percent, compared to an increase of 129 percent for non-drug offenses. Typically the women involved are low-level lookouts or “mules” who transport drugs for short distances either as favors for their husbands or boyfriends or for a small fee. (p. 43)

About 75% of these women prisoners are also the single parents of young children; this is Mother’s Day for them, too. But legally, these mothers have abandoned their children, who are sent to child dependency court. Even setting aside the enormous human costs, the expense to the taxpayer of keeping one child in a group home can be $5,000 per month, above and beyond the costs of incarcerating the mother. For a mother with two children, this means that about $145,000 per year of taxpayer money is spent to keep a mother separated from her children. (p. 44)

Then there is the impact of our massive prison program on ethnic minorities. In 1995, 33% of young black men in this country were either in prison, on parole or probation, a total of about 827,440 young black men in one year. The figures for Hispanic males was 12.3 percent, and for white males it was just under 7 percent. (p. 44)

What do they do in prison, besides learn how to be better criminals? Well, a lot of them take drugs. In 1998, 9% of the 1.6 million men and women behind bars tested positive for illegal drugs – drugs they obtained in prison. Even high security prisoners like Charles Manson are testing positive in prison for illicit drugs – in fact, Manson was transferred from one high security prison to another for being caught selling drugs to other inmates. (49)

We can’t keep drugs out of our maximum-security prisons. How would we ever keep them off the streets? It is easier for our children to get illegal drugs than it is for them to get alcohol. (p. 50)

Our drug laws have turned illegal drug pushing into such a high-profit industry that there will always be people willing to take the risks.

For instance, if you bring $100 worth of cocaine from Colombia to any city in the US, it will be worth between $5,000 and $10,000. That’s a return of fifty to one hundred times your investment. Where in the world could you find a cash cow like that? Police and military forces are helpless to counteract economic forces that huge. (p. 57)

According to a United Nations International Drug Council Program report, world trafficking in illegal drugs made up about 8 percent of all world trade as of 1995 – it must be higher today. That was about $440 billion of international drug transactions. Illegal drugs are a bigger business than all exports of automobiles. (p. 80)

Our drug wars guarantee there will be hundreds of millions of dollars to be made selling drugs. When there’s that much money to be made, every time we imprison another drug dealer, all we do is create a new job opportunity.

You don’t have to look to national statistics to see the complete failure of the war on drugs. You can go down to Sixth Street and see it first-hand. Or look on the front page of yesterday’s Metro & State section of the Austin American-Statesman in the story titled “Drug problem loiters near police headquarters.” Since January, our police have arrested 66 people for dealing narcotics in the area and 143 for possession. It’s the area where the 15-year-old boy was stabbed in the throat last week.

Police Commander Harold Platt, who is in charge of the officers paid to patrol the area, says crack dealers have been there as long as he can remember. But with profits like these, you can’t get the dealers off the streets. Even if you do arrest and imprison a dealer, he says, “there are six people waiting in line, trying to take over his business. You arrest somebody, you finally get them put away, and the next day, somebody else shows up.” (Austin American-Statesman, Metro & State, Saturday May 12, 2001, pp. B-1 and B-3) With 30,000 people going into the Sixth Street entertainment district each weekend, there’s just too much money to be made selling drugs that are expensive because they are illegal, are illegal because we made them illegal, because we have still not learned the lessons we had learned 70 years ago when the prohibition of alcohol ended because of exactly the same failures.

Getting “tough” on drugs also inevitably translates into getting “soft” on all other crimes, including the more violent ones. With drugs taking a priority on police, court and prison time, there just aren’t the officers, the prosecutors, the courts, or the prison cells to hold the really violent offenders.

Our drug policy has been increasing crime in our country for decades, to the extent that, according to conservative author William F. Buckley, Jr., “More people die every year as a result of the war against drugs than die from [drug overdoses].” The cure is worse than the disease. (p. 73)

This gives insanity a bad name!

Law enforcement corruption, sparked mostly by illicit drugs, has become so chronic that the number of federal, state, and local police and law enforcement officials serving terms in federal prisons increased fivefold in four years, from 107 in 1994 to 548 in 1998 (p. 74). By now, it’s probably tenfold.  (http://www.uudpr.org)

Today, when Mother’s Day is celebrated with feasts and flowers, it feels out of place to talk about wars, even wars on drugs. But think of these awful facts about our unwise, our disastrous, our murderous drug war, and then listen again to some of the words from Julia Ward Howe’s declaration written in 1870, and see how well they go together:

“Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or of fears! Say firmly: “We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies – Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience.”

“As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women – meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, and each bearing after her own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.”

Today, she speaks to women, men, and children, and I say Amen, Julia Ward Howe,

Amen!

(Traducción Francisco Javier Lagunes Gaitán)

RELATO: El milagro

Era un tiempo de terrible lucha. Por todas partes la gente estaba dividida en grupos separados, como pequeños clubes. Y en todas partes peleaban contra toda la gente que no estaba en su pequeño club.

Todos decían que odiaban el enfrentamiento, desde luego. Pero todos sabían que solamente la gente en su pequeño club tenía realmente la razón. Y dado que tantos otros estaban equivocados ?bueno, todos ellos rezaban para que Dios les diera la victoria sobre los demás, y así terminara la lucha. Pero mientras tanto, era una época de terrible enfrentamiento.

Un día un joven mago vino a esta región. Él no parecía pertenecer a ninguno de sus clubes, pero era un maravilloso mago y realizó algunos trucos sorprendentes. Tenía esa clase de “cualidad estelar” en él que atraía a la gente. Mucha gente amaba mirarlo, aunque no les interesaba gran cosa escucharlo, debido a las cosas que les decía.

Lo que les dijo fue que si no estuvieran divididos en tantos clubes, no habría tanto enfrentamiento. Sus clubes, les dijo, eran la causa de sus guerras.

Para la gente, esta era la cosa más tonta que nunca habían oído. Sus pequeños clubes les daban una pequeña área de paz y amistad entre gente como ellos mismos, en un mundo de otra manera hostil. A ellos les gustaban sus clubes. Así que casi nunca escucharon cuando el mago trató de enseñarles. Pero amaban su magia, así que siguieron viniendo a verlo, y comenzaron a contarse historias sobre lo grandioso que como mago era

Años después, luego de la muerte del joven mago, una cosa chistosa sucedió, aunque no le hubiera parecido graciosa al mago. La gente formó un nuevo club. Y para estar en este nuevo club, tenías que creer todos los relatos que ellos contaban sobre el joven mago. Incluso hicieron imágenes y esculturas de él, y las exhibían en sus lugares de reunión, para que la gente pudiera recordar todo lo grande que había sido.

El club llegó a ser popular, y pronto tuvo miles de miembros. Antes de que pasara mucho tiempo, se hicieron incluso de un ejército.

Fue entonces cuando finalmente decidieron que podrían usar su ejército para terminar la lucha de una vez por todas. Sus sacerdotes y generales acudieron a sus lugares de reunión ?que se habían convertido en iglesias? e hicieron como que hablaron a las imágenes y estatuas del mago muerto, como para pedir su bendición. Después de todo, ¿no había hablado siempre el joven mago de traer la paz?

Fueron a la guerra. Fue una guerra larga, y mucha gente murió o resultó herida. Pero su ejército era mayor y ganaron. Y obligaron a mucha, mucha gente a entrar en su club.

Luego de las batallas, sus sacerdotes y generales iban a la iglesia a dar las gracias. Se paraban frente a las imágenes y esculturas del mago muerto, y le contaban su orgullosa historia de la batalla victoriosa.

Entonces sucedió el milagro. Justo cuando todos los sacerdotes y generales miraban las estatuas y les hablaban de sus guerras victoriosas, todas las imágenes y estatuas empezaron a llorar?

LECTURA: “El aro sagrado” por Alce Negro, hombre de medicina Lakota Siux

Entonces yo estaba parado en la más alta montaña de todas y a mi alrededor, hacia abajo, estaba todo el aro del mundo. Y mientras estuve ahí vi más de lo que puedo decir. Y comprendí más de lo que vi. Porque veía de la manera sagrada la forma de todas las cosas del espíritu. Y a las formas como deben vivir juntas cual un solo ser. Y vi que ese aro sagrado de mi pueblo era uno de muchos aros que formaban un círculo, amplio como la luz del día y la luz de las estrellas. Y en el centro creció un poderoso árbol floreciente para resguardar a todos los hijos de una madre y un padre. Y vi que era bendito.

SERMÓN: “Las cuatro caras de Jesús”

Tiene riesgos despojar a un hombre como Jesús de su halo y preguntarse qué clase de hombre fue, y qué tan sabias fueron realmente sus enseñanzas. Ofende a la imagen popular de Jesús, sentimental y soñadora, como el Hijo de Dios y salvador sobrenatural de la raza humana. Desde hace ya más de dos siglos, los estudiosos han sabido que aquellos fueron atributos míticos inventados por sus seguidores mucho después de su muerte, y que el Jesús real fue 100% humano ?dado que esta es la única categoría que existe para nosotros. En un mundo construido de esta manera, no nos gusta que la gente pueda recibir la mitad de sus cromosomas de un humano y la otra mitad de un dios celeste, y esta idea tampoco agradaría a sus contemporáneos.

Quiero respetar la verdad sin venerar el mito esta mañana, por medio de la sugerencia de que este hombre, Jesús, tenía por lo menos cuatro diferentes aspectos, o “caras”. Un aspecto era inútil, un segundo era erróneo. Un tercero ?el más “mágico”? fue real, pero no sobrenatural. Y entonces ahí está la cuarta cara de Jesús, que aún hoy parece mirar dentro de nuestras almas con incómoda exactitud.

1. Jesús como pensador cínico itinerante

La primera cara de Jesús se refiere a su estilo de vida, a sus valores personales, la clase de modelo a imitar que él habría sido. Esta es la dimensión de Jesús que apenas ha sido discutida, debido a que es tan estrafalaria. Por ejemplo, trata de recordar cuántos sermones has escuchado sobre estas citas atribuidas a Jesús:

  • “Quien no odia a su padre y a su madre, no podrá hacerse mi discípulo. Y quien no odia a sus hermanos y a sus hermanas? no se hará digno de mí” (Evangelio de Tomás 55) ?¡No es precisamente un texto para un sermón de “valores familiares”!
  • En otra ocasión, una mujer de la multitud, en voz alta, dijo a Jesús, “Dichoso el seno que te llevó y los pechos que te amamantaron”. Era esta una manera convencional de hacer un cumplido a la madre a través del hijo, algo así como decir “Tu madre debe estar muy orgullosa de ti”. Pero Jesús replicó así: “Más bien, dichosos los que escuchan la enseñanza de Dios y la ponen en práctica” (Evangelio Q, en Lucas 11:27-28 ?¡Otro mal texto para el día de las madres!
  • Y la última cita que es la más extrema y la más famosa. Viene del Evangelio de Lucas. En el que Jesús dice “¿Creéis que estoy aquí para poner paz en la tierra? No, os lo aseguro, sino división. Porque desde ahora habrá cinco en una casa y estarán divididos tres contra dos, y dos contra tres; estarán divididos el padre contra el hijo y el hijo contra el padre; la madre contra la hija y la hija contra la madre; la suegra contra la nuera y la nuera contra la suegra” (Evangelio Q y Lucas 12: 51-53) ?¡Nunca se escucha a la derecha cristiana predicar este fragmento tampoco!

Estos dichos no corresponden a la imagen tradicional del Jesús dulce que predicó valores familiares, así que casi nunca son mencionados. Ellos nos muestran algunos de los valores personales de Jesús y de su estilo de vida, y lo hacen parecer muy peculiar y extraño, por no decir fastidioso. La mayoría de los estilos de vida que Jesús ejemplificó nunca han tenido muchos seguidores.

Este es el perfil de alguien en el margen de cualquier cultura, en cualquier época. Los estudiosos reconocen este perfil, no obstante. Era un estilo marginal pero bien conocido de vivir en el mundo antiguo. Desde cerca del cuarto siglo AEC (antes de la era común), hasta aproximadamente el siglo sexto EC (de la era común), había un nombre para este estilo de vida ejemplificado por Jesús. Estos personajes fueron llamados los cínicos.

Algunos estudiosos consideran a Jesús un “pensador cínico itinerante”. El nombre en sí mismo es desdeñoso, fue dado a los “cínicos” por sus detractores (de esa forma se originaron muchos nombres). Viene de la palabra griega para “perro”, y quería decir que los cínicos vivían como perros. No tenían casa, ni propiedad, ni consortes, ni un círculo fijo de amigos, ni trabajo, ni amor por la sociedad en la que vivieron. Los cínicos no ofrecieron una corrección de la sociedad, tanto como ofrecieron una alternativa a la sociedad.

Los mejores de entre los cínicos fueron críticos sociales astutos: fueron una especie de versiones seculares de los profetas del Viejo Testamento, manteniéndose por fuera del orden de las cosas aceptado, mientras trataban de subvertirlo.

Alguien que pudiera vivir una vida de esta manera tenía que estar, entre otras cosas, extremadamente enfocado y dedicado a su visión particular. Para el cínico más famoso de la historia, Diógenes de Sinope, la visión fue una de autonomía personal, de libertad de las exigencias innecesarias de la sociedad. Un viejo relato lo ilustra:

“El mensajero del rey llegó a ver a Diógenes, quien estaba sentado en cuclillas en la calle para comer un simple plato de lentejas. “El rey lo invita a vivir en su castillo”, dijo el mensajero, “y a ser uno de sus asesores en la corte”

“¿Y por qué debería hacerlo?”, preguntó Diógenes.

“Bueno, por una cosa”, dijo el mensajero, “si aprendiera a ganarse el favor del rey, no tendría que comer lentejas”.

“Y qué si uno aprende a disfrutar las lentejas”, replicó Diógenes, “no tendría que aprender a ganarse el favor del rey”.

El mensaje de los cínicos siempre fue extremo, y ellos estuvieron dispuestos a sacrificar todo por él. Además, ellos generalmente pensaron que todos los demás también estarían mejor si abandonaran la visión de la vida de la sociedad y adoptaran su visión cínica.

Jesús queda muy bien dentro de esta concepción del pensador cínico. No tenía hogar, propiedad o trabajo. No daba por buenas las imágenes aceptadas de “la buena vida” o las expectativas normales que sobre la gente se tenían en una sociedad civilizada ?las reglas culturales y religiosas que daban a la gente sus identidades sociales, por ejemplo. Su visión del “Reino de Dios” era, para Jesús, la única cosa digna de vivir por ella. Sus parábolas presentaron al “Reino” de esta forma extrema una y otra vez. Era una “perla de gran valor”, un “tesoro enterrado en el campo” por el que el afortunado descubridor lo venderá todo.

Lo que debe notarse sobre los cínicos, incluso Jesús, es que su mensaje nunca es fácilmente escuchado, o seguido, excepto por personas extremadamente marginales ?otros cínicos. Los esposos, viudas, niños, el gozo del trabajo, hacer una contribución a la sociedad, el nacionalismo, el orgullo de identidad étnica o religiosa, ?todo esto no era nada para los cínicos en comparación con su singular visión. En el caso de Jesús, su familia entera fue tratada como si no contara nada en comparación del “Reino de Dios”. Esto no convirtió a Jesús en excepcionalmente frío, o insolidario, simplemente lo identifica como uno de los grandes cínicos de la historia ?y un pensador cuya visión era, a veces, demasiado extrema para resultar útil, o sabia, para la abrumadora mayoría de la gente que ha vivido jamás, entonces o ahora.

Así que la primera cara de Jesús fue la de un estilo de vida cínico. Constituyó una gran parte de quién fue él y de lo que valoró. Para casi todos en la historia, excepto para los cínicos, sin embargo, este no fue un camino sabio a seguir, sino una inútil aberración.

2. La “Regla de Oro”

La segunda cara de Jesús es su más famosa enseñanza. Si hay un punto en el que todos estén de acuerdo este es la afirmación de la “Regla de Oro” de Jesús crearía la mejor clase de mundo humano posible.

Aunque la amplitud de las enseñanzas de Jesús no puede satisfactoriamente ser reducida a una sola línea, hay una regla bastante simple que la mayoría acepta como el núcleo verdadero de su mensaje. Esto es que Jesús enseño que deberíamos siempre retribuir la ofensa con amabilidad, y el odio con el amor. En la imaginación popular, la mayoría de la gente vería esto como lo que constituiría la esencia de la Regla de Oro. “Haz a otros lo que quieres que te hagan”, significa “sé compasivo y perdona a los otros, no importa cómo te traten”.

La pureza de este ideal ha inspirado a cristianos y no cristianos por igual. Las enseñanzas de Jesús sirvieron como una de las grandes inspiraciones del dirigente hindú Gandhi hace medio siglo, quien adoptó su enfoque no violento de retribuir la crueldad con amabilidad en su esfuerzo fallido por revolucionar su sociedad hindú.

Hoy en nuestra época computarizada, podemos de hecho someter a prueba diferentes teorías éticas, sin arriesgarnos a una guerra. Robert Axelrod, un profesor de ciencia política en la Universidad de Michigan, estuvo entre los primeros en realizar un estudio sobre el “Dilema del Prisionero” [de la teoría de juegos] que puede examinar los resultados de largo plazo de diferentes reglas éticas, con la ayuda de simulaciones computarizadas de los dilemas éticos de la vida real. A través de algunas series de experimentos interactivos en computadora, él ha probado una amplia variedad de reglas éticas. Sin entrar demasiado en detalles, los resultados de miles de interacciones parecen confirmar el sentido común. La Regla de Oro siempre pierde, por la sencilla razón de que premia el comportamiento abusivo. Si podemos tomar ventaja de alguien sin que haya ninguna penalización o represalia, tendemos a aprovecharnos ventajosamente de esa persona.

El otro extremo tampoco funciona ?la idea de que la fuerza dicta la ley, y que puedes hacer lo que sea, siempre y cuando no tenga consecuencias negativas para ti. Esto crea ciclos sin fin de violencia y venganza.

La regla ética que parece ganar siempre es simple. Los experimentadores la llaman la regla de “sólo coopero si el otro coopera” [‘Tit-for-Tat’, en inglés]. Tu primer movimiento es siempre cooperativo. Pero luego de eso, tratas a los otros como ellos te trataron. Una vez que los otros jugadores cooperan, te muestras dispuesto a olvidar las amarguras del pasado. En el largo plazo, otras estrategias se derrotan a sí mismas, mientras que esta vía intermedia toma la delantera.

En otras palabras: si de verdad deseas hacer del mundo un lugar más justo y compasivo, por lo que más quieras, no sigas la Regla de Oro. Que tu primer acto hacia los otros sea amable, pero de ahí en adelante sigue la regla de establecer límites saludables al hacer a otros exactamente lo mismo que ellos te hayan hecho ?es importante dejarles claro siempre que pueden esperar que los trates exactamente de la misma manera en que te han tratado. En el largo plazo, este enfoque de sentido común ?que Confucio enseñó hace 2500 años? creará un mundo más justo y previsiblemente más razonable de lo que sería con la idea extrema de Jesús sobre recompensar la maldad con amabilidad. En el largo plazo, como lo muestra la teoría de juegos, las enseñanzas de Jesús pueden convertirte en un “siervo sufrido”, pero alentarán los peores comportamientos en los otros, al recompensarlos. Irónicamente, esto te dará más oportunidades de perdonarlos, con lo que se creará un círculo vicioso ?uno que ha sido evidente a lo largo de la historia de Occidente y de la civilización cristiana.

Al combinar solo las dos primeras facetas de Jesús, obtienes lo que ha sido llamado el “siervo sufrido”: aquel que recibe siempre abusos y eternamente los perdona. Esto podrá hacer a los cristianos buenos, obedientes y seguidores sufridos, pero no buenos líderes. Maquiavelo vio esto hace siglos, cuando observó que el cristianismo daba a la gente, “fortaleza para sufrir, más que fortaleza apara hacer cosas audaces”. Es significativo que la preocupación central de Maquiavelo fuera de qué manera los dirigentes de los estados podrían mantener bajo su dominio a las masas. Y cuando Rousseau dijo que “Los verdaderos cristianos están hechos para ser esclavos”, esto también vino de un hombre cuya primordial preocupación fue, como lo señala el título de su libro, “El contrato social”. Desde por lo menos los tiempos de Constantino, aquellos cuyas simpatías están con los dominadores, más que con los dominados, han agradecido las enseñanzas que pueden extraerse del cristianismo ?principalmente de Pablo? para conseguir que la autoridad de Dios complemente a la suya propia, con el objeto de mantener obedientes a las masas.

3. Jesús el sanador por la fe

Prácticamente todos los estudiosos bíblicos están de acuerdo en que Jesús fue un hombre con un gran carisma, y una señalada habilidad para lo que hoy llamaríamos “sanación ritual”. Aunque casi todos los estudiosos aceptan que los relatos fueron grandemente exagerados, y que las escenas como “caminar sobre el agua”, levantar a Lázaro de entre los muertos, o alimentar a 5,000 personas con unos pocos pescados, son todos mitologización cristiana, el hecho duro sigue siendo que Jesús fue fundamentalmente conocido, en su tiempo y en las décadas que siguieron inmediatamente a su muerte, como un curandero de gran talento. Era este poder casi mágico lo que realmente atrajo gente hacia él, aun cuando no entendían o no querían escuchar las cosas que él quería enseñar. Sus seguidores también compartieron este poder curativo, aunque no en la misma medida en que lo tenía Jesús.

Sin intención de desacreditar, hay que hacer notar que esta clase de poder carismático no implica necesariamente que el curandero sea bueno o sabio. Todavía hay muchos curanderos hoy en día, desde Oral Roberts, hasta Bennie Han. Además, el principio de la curación por la fe está detrás de los placebos ?esas píldoras de azúcar que muchas veces pueden hacer desaparecer tus síntomas, si crees que lo pueden hacer. Es fácil pensar en algunas otras figuras históricas que también tuvieron un carisma inmenso y un gran poder personal sobre la gente, pero que no fueron sabios, o que incluso fueron malvados. Rasputin, Hitler, Jim Jones, Matthew Applewhite, y David Koresh son ejemplos que me vienen rápidamente a la mente. No todos los sabios son magos, ni los magos sabios. Aún así, Jesús fue uno de los curanderos más brillantes de la historia.

4. Subversor de las identidades artificiales

Es difícil saber cómo llamar a esta cuarta cara de Jesús. Como los estudiosos bíblicos saben, la principal preocupación de Jesús era lo que él llamó el Reino de Dios. Lo que Jesús entendió por Reino de Dios fue fundamentalmente diferente de lo que la mayoría de los cristianos han entendido por esta frase. Entendido propiamente, fue la enseñanza más radical de Jesús. Fue también la más profunda y perdurable, y es su cuarta “cara”.

La frase “el reino de Dios” no fue exclusiva de Jesús. Era una frase popular en los primeros dos siglos, usada por mucha gente. Significaba el mundo ideal, la clase de mundo que podría tener la mayor compasión y justicia. Juan el Bautista, quien fue maestro de Jesús, dijo que el mundo había ido demasiado lejos para ser salvado, que deberíamos esperar a que Dios lo destruyera todo y volver a empezar con la clase apropiada de personas ?aquellos que creyeran lo que Juan el Bautista creía.

Luego que Juan el Bautista fue asesinado y que no llegó el fin del mundo, Jesús emergió como líder carismático, y muchos de los seguidores de Juan empezaron a seguirlo. Pero el mensaje de Jesús era muy diferente. El “reino” de Juan sería sobrenatural; para Jesús, el reino de Dios era existencial, aquí y ahora, no en un mundo por venir.

Para Jesús, el Reino de Dios no vendría. Ya estaba aquí, al menos potencialmente, dentro y entre nosotros. O como lo dijo él en otro lugar, el reino está extendido sobre la tierra, y la gente no lo ve.

¿Cómo renovar un mundo hostil? Esta ha sido casi siempre la pregunta que enfrentamos. Para Juan el Bautista, así como para muchos predicadores apocalípticos de hoy, debemos esperar a Dios para actuar. Para Jesús, Dios esperaba que actuáramos. Y actuamos, creamos el reino de Dios, o el mejor mundo posible, simplemente al tratar a otros como nuestros hermanos y hermanas, como hijos de Dios.

Esto suena agradable y dulce, sin embargo, es una cosa peligrosa de enseñar. Por ejemplo, las leyes de alimentación de los judíos los separan de sus vecinos. Así que las instrucciones de Jesús a sus seguidores fueron que comieran lo que les sirvieran: puerco, mariscos, cabras, cualquier cosa que sirviera el anfitrión. Los judíos odiaban a los samaritanos, con cuyo reino limitaban al norte, más de lo que odiaban a casi cualquiera. Así que Jesús contó una historia sobre un judío golpeado que yacía a un lado de la carretera, cuando pasaron unos sacerdotes a su lado y la única persona que lo socorrió fue un samaritano. Durante sus principales días santos, los judíos solo comían pan ácimo (sin levadura). Así que Jesús dijo que el reino de Dios es como la levadura que pones en la masa para expandirla. Una y otra vez, él desdeñó las identidades artificiales que nos separan de los demás. Sólo había una identidad posible para nosotros en el Reino de Dios: tratarnos mutuamente como hermanas y hermanos.

¿Ves todo lo subversivo que resulta esto? Este es un mensaje que podría amenazar cualquier forma de gobierno, todas las ideologías, y todas las identidades religiosas y raciales. El mundo está en un caos, hemos perdido un centro compartido, así que creamos cientos de centros artificiales, o “clubes”, de los que obtenemos nuestras identidades. El problema es que son demasiado pequeñas, todas excluyen a quienes creen o viven de manera diferente a nosotros, y por ello son precisamente las estructuras que mantienen al mundo como un lugar hostil.

Hoy en día, su mensaje podría ser ¡Detengan los clubes! Dejen de identificarse con su nación, su raza, su religión, o su sexo. Todas estas identidades son finalmente divisivas y hacen así imposible un mundo pacífico. ¿Quieres un reino de Dios? ¿Quieres un mundo de paz y justicia? Está en tus manos y sólo en tus manos. Te ha sido dado todo lo que necesitas, ahora es tiempo de actuar.

Este es un mensaje que todavía haría que mataran al mensajero que lo porte, casi en cualquier parte del mundo. Imagina ir a Irlanda del Norte a decirles a los combatientes que ninguno de sus bandos es cristiano, que ambos son agentes del mal, y que deben dejar de pensarse a sí mismos como protestantes y católicos, porque tales identidades son ellas mismas el problema. La única cosa en la que ambos bandos estarían de acuerdo sería en lincharte colgándote del árbol más cercano.

Imagina intentar vender el mensaje a los judíos y palestinos, y decirles que la única forma de parar la lucha asesina es dejar de pensarse a sí mismos meramente como judíos y palestinos, y comenzar a verse mutuamente como hermanos y hermanas, como hijos de dios. ¡Te dispararían!

No quiero sugerir que Jesús fuera la única persona en la historia en contemplar esta visión de un mundo que sigue mezquino y hostil debido a nuestras identidades artificiales y nuestros impulsos territoriales. Puedes encontrar esta idea de que todos somos hermanos y hermanas en muchas religiones y culturas. También la encuentras en culturas que nunca tuvieron contacto directo con la civilización occidental. Recuerda estas líneas del hombre de medicina Lakota Siux, Alce Negro:

“Y vi que ese aro sagrado de mi pueblo era uno de muchos aros que formaban un círculo, amplio como la luz del día y la luz de las estrellas. Y en el centro creció un poderoso árbol floreciente para resguardar a todos los hijos de una madre y un padre. Y vi que era bendito”.

Estas cosas no son verdad porque las hayan dicho Jesús, Alce Negro u otros. Son verdaderas porque ellos han visto hacia la esencia de lo que significa ser humano, con una claridad que poca gente en la historia había logrado jamás. No sé de ninguna forma de alegar contra esta noción precisa. Parece honda, profunda y eternamente correcta. Nuestras tendencias humanas o animales a crear identidades artificiales para nosotros mismos son el pecado original de nuestra especie. Nos sentimos mayores y más merecedores de consideración como parte de una familia, una nación, una raza, una cultura. Así que naturalmente nos unimos a pequeños clubes y ondeamos nuestras banderas, y esperamos la segunda venida de Jesús para que pueda haber paz en el mundo.

La tragedia real de un hombre como Jesús no es que hayan arrumbado tanta fantasía tonta sobre él a través de las épocas pasadas ?aunque Dios sabe que así ha sido. La tragedia es que lo ascendimos a hombre-Dios, luego lo añadimos a la religión de Juan el Bautista que esperaba que ese hombre-Dios viniera para salvar el mundo para nosotros, mientras nos sentábamos en silencio a recitar cualesquier credos que nuestros pequeños cultos religiosos, políticos o sociales hayan declarado como la ortodoxia vigente. Tomamos al hombre que vivió y murió predicando contra las identidades divisivas y creamos un club alrededor de su nombre. Es un cruel e irónico destino para el simple judío de Galilea.

La tragedia es que este hombre extraño, este judío marginal sin familia, amigos, propiedad o trabajo realmente tenía algo que ofrecernos, y nadie lo quiere. Es demasiado duro. Pide demasiado de nosotros. Así que encontramos una ruta más simple. Hicimos miles de estatuas de este hombre, Jesús, a quien convertimos en un Hijo de Dios. Y rezamos para que, a través de su infinito poder, traiga la paz a este mundo en el que hacemos la guerra al identificarnos con nuestra irrelevante religión, nación, raza o territorio. Entonces decimos amén, salimos, y nos preparamos para los días de batalla contra los infieles de la iglesia de junto, del pueblo de junto, de la nación de junto.

Y entonces imagino el resto de la historia. Imagino que por todo el mundo, conforme la gente sale de sus iglesias, dan la espalda a las imágenes y estatuas de Jesús que han hecho. Y luego de que todos se han ido, por todo el mundo, en la fría obscuridad de las iglesias vacías, todas las imágenes y estatuas empiezan a llorar?

The Four Faces of Jesus

© Davidson Loehr

April 29, 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

Prayer

We pray not to something, but from something, to which we must give voice;

not to escape from our life, but to focus it;

not to relinquish our mind, but to replenish our soul.

We pray that we may live with honesty:

that we can accept who we are,

and admit who we are not;

that we don’t become so deafened by pride and fear

that we ignore the still small voices within us,

that could lead us out of darkness.

We pray that we can live with trust and openness:

to those people, those experiences, and those transformations

that can save us from narrowness and despair.

And we pray on behalf of these hopes

with an open heart, an honest soul,

and a grateful reverence for the life which has been given to us.

AMEN.

SERMON: “The Four Faces of Jesus”

It was a time of terrible fighting. Everywhere people were divided into separate groups, like little clubs. And everywhere they fought against all the people who weren’t in their little club.

They all said they hated the fighting, of course. But they all knew that only the people in their little club were really right – and it is so important, being right. And as long as so many others were wrong – well, they all prayed that God would give them victory so the fighting could stop. But in the meantime, it was a time of terrible fighting.

One day a young magician came to the area. He didn’t belong to any of their clubs, but he was a wonderful magician who did some amazing tricks. And he had that kind of “star quality” about him that drew people to him. Many people loved watching him, though they didn’t much care for listening to him, because of the things he said to them.

What he said to them was that if they weren’t divided into so many little clubs, there wouldn’t be so much fighting. Their clubs, he told them, were the cause of their wars.

To the people, this was about the dumbest thing they had ever heard. Their little clubs gave them a tiny area of peace and friendship among people like themselves, in an otherwise hostile world. They liked their clubs. So they almost never listened when the magician tried to teach them. But they loved his magic, and so kept coming to watch him, and they started telling stories about what a great magician he was.

Years later, after the young magician died, a funny thing happened, though it wouldn’t have seemed funny to the magician. People formed a new club. And to be in this new club, you had to believe all the stories they told about the young magician. They even made pictures and statues of him, and put them up in their meeting-places, so people could remember how great he had been.

The club became very popular, and soon had thousands of members. Before long, they even had an army.

That’s when they finally decided that they could use their army to end the fighting once and for all. Their priests and generals went to their meeting-places – which had become churches – and sort of talked to the pictures and statues of the dead magician, as if to ask his blessing. After all, hadn’t the young magician always talked about bringing peace?

Then they went to war. It was a long war, and many people were killed or wounded. But their army was bigger, so they won. And they forced many, many people to come into their club, because they wanted them to be right – it is just so important to be right.

After the battles, their priests and generals went to church to give thanks. They stood before the pictures and statues of the dead magician, and told him their proud story of the victorious battle.

That’s when the miracle happened. Just as all the priests and all the generals were looking up at the statues telling them about their successful wars, it happened: all the pictures and all the statues began to cry.

The young magician, of course, was Jesus.

There are risks in stripping a man like Jesus of his halo and asking what kind of man he was, and how wise his teachings really were. It offends the popular romantic picture of Jesus as the Son of God and supernatural savior of humankind. Yet for over two centuries, scholars have known that those were mythic attributes invented by his followers long after he died, and that the real Jesus was 100% human – since that’s the only category there is for us. Calling him a “son of God” was poetry, not biology or genetics. We don’t like in a world constructed in such a way that people can receive half their chromosomes from a human and the other half from a sky-god – and neither did they.

I want to respect the truth without worshiping the myth this morning, by suggesting that this man Jesus had at least four different aspects, or “faces.” One aspect was useless, a second – the most “magical” – was real, but not supernatural. A third was just wrong. Then there is that fourth face of Jesus, which still seems to look into our souls with uncomfortable accuracy.

1. Jesus as an Itinerant Cynic Sage

The first face of Jesus concerns his life style, his personal values, the kind of role model he would have been. This is the dimension of Jesus that has hardly even been discussed, because it is so bizarre. For instance, see how many sermons you’ve ever heard preached on these quotations attributed to Jesus:

“Whoever does not hate father and mother cannot be a follower of me, and whoever does not hate brothers and sisters – will not be worthy of me.” (Gospel of Thomas 55) – Not the text for a “family values” sermon!

On another occasion, a woman from the crowd spoke up and said to Jesus, “How fortunate is the womb that bore you, and the breasts that you sucked!” It was a conventional way of handing a compliment to the mother through the son, like saying “your mother must be very proud of you.” But Jesus replied, “How fortunate, rather, are those who listen to God’s teaching and observe it!” (the Q Gospel, in Luke 11:27-28). – This one would be a bad Mother’s Day text!

And the last quotation is the most extreme and the most famous. It comes from the gospel of Luke, where Jesus says “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.” (Q Gospel in Luke 12: 51-53) – You seldom hear the Christian Right preaching on this one, either!

These sayings don’t fit the traditional picture of a sweet Jesus who preached family values. They show us some of Jesus’ personal values and lifestyle, and make him seem very strange and foreign, not to mention unappealing. For most of the styles of living that Jesus exemplified have never had many takers.

This is the profile of someone on the fringe of any culture at any time. Scholars recognize this profile, however. It was a marginal but well-known style of living in the ancient world. From about the fourth century BCE until the sixth century CE, there was a name for this style of living exemplified by Jesus. These were the people called cynics.

Some scholars describe Jesus as an “itinerant cynic sage.” The name itself is derogatory, given to the “cynics” by their detractors (the way most such names originate). It came from the Greek word for “dog,” and was meant to imply that cynics lived like dogs. They had no home, no property, no spouses, no fixed circle of friends, no jobs, and no love for the society in which they lived. Cynics didn’t offer a correction of society so much as they offered an alternative to society.

The best of the cynics were astute social critics: they were like secular versions of the Old Testament prophets, standing outside the accepted order of things, trying to subvert it.

Someone who could live a life in this manner had to be, among other things, extremely focused and dedicated to his particular vision. For history’s most famous cynic, Diogenes of Sinope, the vision was one of personal autonomy, freedom from the unnecessary demands of society. An old story makes the point:

The king’s messenger came to find Diogenes, who was squatting in the street, eating his simple meal of lentils. “The king invites you to come live in his castle,” said the messenger, “and be one of his court advisors.”

“Why should I?” asked Diogenes.

“Well for one thing,” said the messenger, “if you’d learn to curry favor with the king you wouldn’t have to eat lentils.”

“And if you would learn to like lentils,” replied Diogenes, “you wouldn’t have to curry favor with the king.”

The message of cynics was always extreme, and they were willing to sacrifice everything for it. Furthermore, they generally thought that everyone else would also be better off abandoning the society’s vision of life and adopting their cynic vision. Their message was to individuals. They didn’t belong to or care about a real community. They weren’t social reformers. They thought society was fundamentally wrong, and people should “tune in, turn on and drop out,” to recapture that slogan from the Hippie years.

Jesus fits very neatly into this conception of a cynic sage. He had no home, property or job. He didn’t respect the accepted images of “the good life” or the normal expectations made upon people in a civilized society – the religious and cultural rules that gave people their social identities, for example. His vision of the “Kingdom of God” was, for Jesus, the only thing worth living for. His parables presented the “Kingdom” in this extreme way over and over again: it was a “pearl of great price,” a “treasure buried in a field” for which the lucky finder would sell everything.

What must be noted about cynics, including Jesus, is that their message is never likely to be heard or followed except for the extremely marginal person – another cynic. Husbands, wives, children, the joy of working at a job, making a contribution to society, nationalism, ethnic or religious pride of identity – all these counted as nothing for cynics compared with their singular vision. In Jesus’ case, his entire family was treated as though they counted for nothing compared with his vision of the “Kingdom of God.” This doesn’t make Jesus exceptionally cold or uncaring, it just identifies him as one of history’s great cynics – and a sage whose vision was sometimes too extreme to be either useful or wise to the overwhelming majority of people who have ever lived, then or now.

And so the first face of Jesus was his cynic lifestyle. It was a huge part of who he was and what he valued. For nearly everyone in history except other cynics, however, it was not a wise road to follow, but a useless aberration.

2. Jesus the Faith-Healer

Virtually all biblical scholars agree that Jesus was a man with great charisma, and a remarkable ability for what we today call “faith healing.” While almost all scholars agree that the stories have been greatly exaggerated, and that scenes like”walking on water,” raising Lazarus from the dead or feeding 5,000 people from a few fish are all Christian mythmaking, the core fact remains that Jesus was primarily known in his time and in the early centuries as a gifted healer. It was this almost magical power that really attracted people to him, even if they didn’t understand, or didn’t want to hear, the things he wanted to teach. His followers also shared this healing power, though not to quite the same extent as did Jesus.

There is nothing here to debunk, except to note that this kind of charismatic power doesn’t necessarily imply that the healer is wise or good. There are still lots of faith healers today, from Oral Roberts to Bennie Han. Furthermore, the principle of faith healing is behind placebos — those sugar pills that can often make your symptoms disappear if you think they can. It is easy to think of other historical figures who also had immense charisma and personal power over other people, who were unwise or evil: Rasputin, Hitler, Jim Jones, Matthew Applewhite, and David Koresh come quickly to mind. Not all wise people are magicians, and not all magicians are wise. Still, Jesus was one of history’s gifted faith healers.

3. Young Idealist Without a Concept of the “Sangha”

The third face of Jesus shows a severe limit to his vision, one that would have almost undoubtedly relegated him to the dustbin of history without the contributions of St. Paul. That statement alone is enough to upset or enrage many who love Jesus and can’t stand Paul.

The ethical teaching most associated with Jesus is the Golden Rule. While he is reported to have said it means to “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” it has also been equated for twenty centuries with another of Jesus’ sayings: “turn the other cheek.” Some radical Christian sects, like the 14th Century Cathari group in France or the 16th century Mennonites in Germany, took this literally and refused to resist the violence of others altogether. This led to the slaughter of thousands or tens of thousands of Cathari, and the slaughter of most of the first generation of Mennonites.

It wasn’t a new teaching. It had been around at least five hundred years before Jesus came along. We know this because we have the story of one of Confucius’ followers asking him five centuries earlier what he thought of the idea of repaying evil with forgiveness. Confucius thought it was a dumb idea. “With what, then,” he asked, “will you repay goodness?” Instead, Confucius taught that we should repay evil with justice and repay good with good. Confucius lived to be much older than Jesus did; perhaps this just shows the greater wisdom of a much older man.

Others have said that if you want to see a place where people have lived by the rule of turning the other cheek, go to a battered women’s shelter. It was a very idealistic teaching, but not a wise one, unless you are in a community where all are treated with respect.

And that’s the second and more important limitation on the teachings of Jesus. All of his teachings were directed to individuals. He did not come to reform Judaism; he didn’t come to start a new religion or found a new church. He had no home, no job, no community, and he never addressed the necessity for a healthy community in his teachings.

A quick look at Buddhism can help understand what Jesus omitted. Buddhists say you must have three things to become awake, enlightened. You must have Buddha, dharma, and sangha. Buddha means a center, a source of authority and inspiration. Dharma means the personal work that you must do. Jesus, you could say, taught that you must have God and dharma: you must live as God wants you to live. But he had nothing at all to say about the sangha. The sangha is the supportive community devoted to serving these high ideals, like a good church. And the Buddhists are right: we’re not likely to do the growth and awakening we need alone. We need a supportive community, a faith community, a church. Jesus never mentioned this.

It’s ironic Ð especially for people who like Jesus but dislike Paul Ð but the concern for community was what Paul contributed, making it possible to create a religion out of the memories, myths and teachings of Jesus. Without Paul, Jesus was just another teacher who stressed individual duties but neglected to address the necessity of being part of a community of faith.

4. Subverter of Artificial Identities

It’s hard to know what to call the fourth face of Jesus. As all biblical scholars know, Jesus’ primary concern was for what he called the Kingdom of God. What Jesus meant by this Kingdom of God was fundamentally different from what most Christians have meant by the phrase. Properly understood, it was Jesus’ most radical teaching. It was also his most profound and timeless, and his fourth “face.”

The phrase “the kingdom of God” wasn’t unique to Jesus. It was a popular phrase in the first two centuries, used by many people. It meant the ideal world, the kind of world that could have the most compassion and justice. John the Baptist, who had been Jesus’ teacher, said the world was too far gone to save, that we should wait for God to destroy it all and start over with the right kind of people — those who believed as John the Baptist did.

After John the Baptist was killed and the end of the world didn’t come, Jesus emerged as a charismatic leader, and many of John’s followers began following him. But Jesus’ message was very different. John’s “kingdom” was to be supernatural; for Jesus, the kingdom of God was existential, here and now, not in a world to come.

For Jesus, the Kingdom of God wasn’t coming. It was already here, at least potentially, within and among us. Or as he said in another place, the kingdom is spread out upon the earth, and people don’t see it.

How do you rejuvenate a hostile world? That has almost always been the question to which our greatest sages have offered their different prescriptions. For John the Baptist, as for many apocalyptic preachers today, we have to wait for God to act. For Jesus, God was waiting for us to act. And we act, we create the kingdom of God, or the best possible world, simply by treating all others as our brothers and sisters, as children of God. What Jesus was doing was attacking and subverting exclusive identities, identities that make us feel special or “chosen” at the price of casting others into a second-class status.

This sounds sweet and nice, but it’s a dangerous thing to teach. For instance, the food laws of the Jews set them apart from their neighbors. So Jesus’ instructions to his followers were to eat whatever was set before them: pork, shellfish, goat, whatever the host was serving. The Jews hated the Samaritans, who bordered them to the north, more than they hated almost anyone. So Jesus told a story about a beaten Jew lying by the side of the road, when priests passed him by and the only person who helped him was a Samaritan. During their high holy days, the Jews ate only unleavened bread. So Jesus said the kingdom of God is like leaven that you put in dough to make it rise. Over and over, he spurned the artificial identities that set us apart from others. There was only one identity possible for us in the Kingdom of God: to treat one another as brothers and sisters.

Do you see how subversive this is? This is a message that could threaten any form of government, all ideologies, and all religious or racial identities. The world is in chaos, we’ve lost a shared center, so we create a hundred little artificial centers, or “clubs,” from which we get our identities. The problem is, they’re all too small, all exclude those who believe or live differently than we do, and so they’re precisely the structures that keep the world hostile.

Today, his message might be Stop joining clubs! Stop identifying yourselves with your nation, your race, your religion, your political party or your sex. All of these are ultimately divisive identities that make a peaceful world impossible. You want the Kingdom of God? You want a world of peace and justice? It’s in your hands, and only in your hands. You’ve been given everything you need, now it’s time to act.

This is a message that would still get the messenger killed almost anywhere in the world. Imagine going into Northern Ireland a few years back, telling the fighters that neither side is Christian, both are agents of evil, and they need to stop thinking of themselves as Protestants and Catholics, because those identities are themselves the problem. The only thing the two sides would agree on would be lynching you from the nearest tree.

Imagine trying to sell that message to the Jews and Palestinians, telling them the only way to stop the murderous fighting is to grow beyond thinking of themselves as merely Jews or Palestinians, and begin seeing each other as brothers and sisters, the children of God. You’d be shot!

I don’t want to imply that Jesus was the only person in history to see this vision of a world kept small and hostile by our artificial identities and our territorial impulses. You can find this idea that we are all brothers and sisters in many religions, many cultures. You also find it in cultures that never had contact with any Western civilization. Remember these lines from this morning’s responsive reading by the Lakota Sioux Medicine Man Black Elk:

And I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that make one circle, wide as daylight and starlight. And in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.

These things aren’t true just because Jesus or Black Elk or the others said them. They are true because they have seen to the essence of what it means to be human, with a clarity few people in history have ever had. I don’t know of any way to argue against that insight. It seems deeply, profoundly, eternally correct. Our human or animal tendencies to create artificial identities for ourselves are the original sin of our species. We feel bigger and more worthwhile as parts of a family, a nation, a race, a culture. So naturally we join the little clubs and wave their flags, and we wait for Jesus’ second coming so there might be peace in the world.

The real tragedy of a man like Jesus isn’t that he has had so much silly hokum dumped on him through the ages – though God knows he has. The tragedy is that we elevated him into a man-God, then joined the religion of John the Baptist who expected this man-God to come save the world for us, as we sat silently by reciting whatever creeds our little religious or political or social cult has declared to be the current orthodoxy. We took the man who lived and died preaching against divisive identities, and created a club around his name. It is a cruel and ironic fate for the simple Jew from Galilee.

The tragedy is that this strange man, this marginal Jew without family, friends, property or job, really did have something to offer us, and nobody wants it. It’s too hard. It asks too much of us. So we found a simpler route. We made thousands of mental and physical pictures and statues of this man Jesus, whom we turned into a Son of God. And we pray that he, through his infinite power, will bring peace to this world in which we’re making war by identifying with our tiny religion, nation, party, race or territory. Then we say Amen, go outside, and prepare for the day’s battle against the infidels in the next church, next town, next nation.

And then I imagine the rest of the story. I imagine that all over the world, as people leave their churches, they turn their backs on the pictures and statues of Jesus they’ve made. And after they’ve gone, all over the world, in the cold darkness of the empty churches, all of the pictures and all of the statues begin to cry.

Forgiveness is Possible

© Barbara Coeyman

22 April 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

The Sunflower: A Story of Forgiveness

I want to tell you a story this morning about a man named Simon. Well, it’s actually a story about forgiveness. So before I tell you about Simon, I want to ask you:

Who could explain to me what forgiveness is?…

Could one person tell me someone you’d like to forgive, or maybe did forgive?

Could one person tell me about how you’ve been forgiven by someone else?

Well let me tell you about Simon. This story is true, and it happened about 60 years ago, during a very bad time in the world, during the Holocaust. In the Holocaust millions of Jewish people were put in Nazi prisons-what they called concentration camps-and many were killed.

Simon was a young Jewish man from Poland. Simon was confined to a concentration camp. One day he was called from his work detail at a hospital to the bedside of Karl, who was an SS officer from Stuttgart. That is, Karl was part of the people who persecuted the Jews. Karl was 21 and he was dying after being wounded in fighting.

When Simon walked into Karl’s room, Karl was clutching a letter from his mother and he was crying. He knew he was dying. He also knew that he had done many horrible things to many Jewish people, including setting a house on fire and shooting some of the people who tried to run out of the burning house. Karl felt very guilty. He wanted to talk to a Jew like Simon because he said he wanted to die in peace. So he asked Simon if Simon, on behalf of all the millions of Jews in Europe, would forgive him for all these Horrible things he had done. He thought that if Simon would forgive he, he could die in peace.

Simon was so startled by this story, that he didn’t know what to say to Karl. So he said nothing. He walked away and said he’d come back tomorrow to talk about Karl’s Request some more.

That night, when Simon got back to the concentration camp, he couldn’t stop – Talking about this scene with Karl to his friends, and he couldn’t sleep that night. He was so torn about whether he should tell Karl he forgave him.

Before I finish the story of Simon, I was just wondering: what would any of you have done if you had been Simon? Would you have forgiven this man who did many horrible things to you or your family or your people?

Well, let me tell you how the story ended. When Simon went back to Karl’s bed the next day, he found it empty. Karl had died during the night. Simon never gave Karl the chance to be forgiven before Karl died.

Simon was one of the lucky Jews. He survived the Holocaust. And he lost a lot more than one night’s sleep over Karl’s request. This incident with Karl haunted him for years afterwards, so much that he wrote a book about this. He called this book The Sunflower, because the story reminded him of fields of sunflowers that were near the hospital and the concentration camp. The sun- flowers reminded him of life and hope and beauty which can survive, even through horrible events like the Holocaust.

So I want you to take Simon’s story away with you, and think about someone you’d like to forgive, or maybe someone who you’d like to be forgiven by. And how hard forgiveness can sometimes be.

Forgiveness is Possible

Dr. Loehr is at the southwest district meeting this weekend. This is the first time I’ve been in this pulpit since I received the invitation to Portland next year. It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a little over two years since I preached my first sermon from this pulpit. I am thankful for the many opportunities this and other UU churches here in central Texas have provided me to hone my ministerial skills. I’m also looking forward to challenges awaiting me in Portland.

Recently one of my seminary profs gave a pep talk to us seniors about to enter ministry. He reminded us that worship services and sermons can vary a great deal, from individual to individual and from Sunday to Sunday. Some services, he said, seem like the finest four-star meal at Fonda San Miguel. Other services are more like take-out from MacDonalds…… I’ll leave it to each of you to decide how you are nourished this morning.

I want to frame my sermon on forgiveness with two readings. The first, by Raymond Baughan, is short, but may pull us into a framework for thinking about forgiveness.

When my anger’s over

may the world be young again

as after the rain –

the cool clean promise

and the dance of branches glistening green

 – Raymond John Baughan: The Sound of Silence, 1965

  I want to tell you about an experience I had about six years ago with some church friends back in Pittsburgh which could have used some forgiveness. An ad-hoc committee planned to re-organize our church’s music program. Things were going along really well, when suddenly our planning fell apart, I think largely because of a few avoidable mis-communications. Ill feelings over music carried into other parts of church life. The music program was never reorganized and several of us lost valued friendships, I suspect for good.

All five of us on the committee probably messed up. Thinking back, there were Things each of us could have done to help the mix-up. For myself, I probably took the incident more seriously than some others. I felt lots of emotion because I really liked the people on this committee and was sad to loose their friendship. I wanted to make amends, but for whatever reasons, we didn’t. I hoped for wholeness, but relationships were broken. I wanted to forgive and be forgiven, but it was not to be. But I didn’t push toward forgiveness because some others on the committee did not feel the same need I did. We had really different understandings of forgiveness. Given that we were in a church context, like Simon in our ‘Sunflower’ story, I started to feel confused about forgiveness. If you don’t find forgiveness at church, where can you find it?

This music incident certainly was not as serious as the harm of Jews Simon was asked to forgive. In our musical problems, no one was physically hurt, even though there was emotional distress. But the incident started me thinking about forgiveness. Why did forgiveness seem so remote, so ungraspable? What is the role of forgiveness in the personal, social, religious, and political communities we live in?

As part of a course on liberal ethics at the UU seminary Meadville/Lombard in Chicago this past January, I returned to the topic forgiveness. I was quite surprised when my research yielded little about forgiveness in the context of liberal religion and ethics. I looked in various Unitarian Universalist materials. For example, forgiveness is not mentioned in our seven principles: like the word ‘love,’ which is also not in the principles, ‘forgiveness’ seems like an allusive quality. There are several hymns and readings on forgiveness in the UU hymnal, but there’s also not much about forgiveness on the UU web- site. Even that liberal ethics course included very little on forgiveness.

What was this all about? Was this situation in Pittsburgh purely personal and isolated: that is, was that break-down just something about us? Or was there something about that particular church context? Or, is there something more pervasive in liberal ethics and religion which skirts the topic of forgiveness?

CHARACTERISTICS OF FORGIVENESS

I thought I might find better answers to my search if I understood better what forgiveness looks like. Forgiveness can be situated in so many different contexts-in spirituality, in ethics, in religion, in psychology. Forgiveness is explained by a variety of criteria. Let’s review some of these.

For one, the theologian Paul Tillich explains forgiveness as continuing to accept one who has hurt us. Forgiveness is a process involving two individuals or groups between whom there has been an injury, trespass, other offense significant enough to require resolution (Kushner). Forgiveness can occur between individuals, or in a community such as a church, or among larger units such as nations. One-sided forgiveness is possible, but not as effective as mutual forgiveness. Forgiveness can also be of the self, as if the self is divided into two parties. Sometimes self-forgiveness is the most difficult: we tend to be hard on ourselves, we often have trouble lightening up. Tillich also keeps forgiveness in check. Some harms are not severe enough for forgiveness: it’s important to know which harms should be forgotten, not forgiven. Clearly, Karl’s offenses against Jews were not forgetable.

Second, Forgiveness involves both admitting wrongdoing and accepting admission of wrongdoing from the other: forgiving and being forgived. Harold Kushner hopes that admission of wrongdoing takes the form of guilt-that is, judgment of self about the act precipitating forgiveness-and not shame-judgment from others that the core nature of other people is rotten.

Circumstances calling for forgiveness are often located in parts of ourselves involving intense creativity or emotion: like work, parenting, sex, and mortality. These areas are all very much a part of the human condition. Nevertheless, we often tend to apologize for wanting forgiveness in these core parts of life.

Also, Forgiveness is intentional. We CAN choose not to forgive. Mutual intentionality is best-both parties want forgiveness-but sometimes forgiveness is for one side only, as already mentioned. For example, incest is often described in terms of one-sided forgiveness, important for the victims but not the perpetrators. Sometimes forgiveness is not appropriate at all- there may be serious injury we choose not to forgive (Rodney Jones poem). But it is also important to remember that forgiving is NOT forgetting. If we forget, we risk repeating past wrongs. If we forget, we miss the process of transformation which forgiveness makes possible.

Finally, thus we see that forgiveness is practical, or I like to describe it as performative. We can’t just think forgiveness, we need to do it. Doing for- giveness brings about changes to relationships. Forgiveness can re-stabilize a temporarily broken relationship. Forgiveness leads to RECONCILIATION. Forgiveness makes a future possible. Forgiveness helps us get rid of grudges and find peace.

FORGIVENESS IN LIBERAL THOUGHT

Even after considering all these dimensions of forgiveness, I still wonder about the absence of forgiveness in liberal religious and ethical thought. I admit that as I read Simon Wiesenthal’s The Sunflower I sensed that forgiveness was a much more common part of both Jewish and Christian cultures in the 1940s than I know today in our postmodern culture. In fact, maybe forgiveness is not so much a religious or ethical issue today, but instead a culture one. Maybe we postmodern humans just don’t do forgiveness these days?

At the risk of over-generalizing, could we critique a collective liberal position regarding forgiveness for a few minutes. Is there something about a liberal mindset which is less than compatible with forgiveness? Can you see your- self in any of these possibilities?

Historically, liberal faith has represented self-reliance and independence of the human spirit. Might these qualities work against admitting culpability and wrongdoing in situations which require forgiveness?

Also, if we misunderstand forgiveness to mean forgetting, we might thus equate forgiveness with giving up control. My Pittsburgh friends could not accept MY forgiving them because to do so would have meant admitting that THEY were also affected by our broken relationship: they would have had to admit that they too were vulnerable, to being hurt and also to hurting others.

Also, while the principles of Unitarian Universalism theoretically promote respect for the inherent worth and dignity of all persons, is there ever any time when we exercise our respect categorically? Do we decide that some per- sons may be more worthy of respect and thus forgiveness than others? Sometimes I wonder if we confuse inherent worth with tangible worth.

Perhaps most persuasively, for seekers in liberal religion, forgiveness may be associated with other religious experiences based on admission of original sin, confession, and general human inadequacy. Usually in religions which advance such theologies, forgiveness is generated only by God rather than humans. In contrast, the liberal view grants humans much more agency and control in forgiveness, but we may shy away from talking about forgiveness at all because of past experiences with this more incriminating approach.

FINDING VIABLE SOURCES

While any of my proposals about forgiveness and liberal views might be theoretically true to some extent, I also know that there are many forgiving persons in our community, indeed, in this sanctuary this very Sunday morning. So rather than categorize or rationalize too much, I’m willing to chalk up that Pittsburgh incident to individual circumstances. However, I also don’t want to back down on my observation that forgiveness could be much more in evidence in our written materials and our worship practices. I’m beginning to find many resources which I think could be applied to and adopted by Unitarian Universalism.

I’ve had some moving forgiveness experiences recently in both Yom Kippur and Christian worship services, and read about forgiveness in bestsellers such as Gary Zukav’s The Seat of the Soul. But the most stimulating ideas about forgiveness I’ve found recently appear in two books. The first is a rather scholarly work by Donald Shriver, former president of Union Seminary in New York City. In a book called An Ethic for Enemies, Shriver discusses forgiveness in Politics-and he doesn’t mean just in Florida. Shriver envisions forgiveness between nations and other large groups of people. Forgiveness and justice are closely related. His thesis is that ‘the leftover debris’ which ‘clogs the relationship of diverse groups of humans around the world’ will never clear up until forgiveness enters these relationships. – Shriver refers frequently to Rodney King’s plea after the Los Angeles race riots that we all get along. Without forgiveness, Shrivers reminds us, we will repeat the crimes of our ancestors.

Shriver’s theory is already being implement in South Africa, where forgiveness is the core of Anglican Bishop Desmond Tutu’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Tutu derived forgiveness from his Ubuntu (U-BUN-tu) theology. Ubuntu theology might be a worthy inspiration for liberal western forgiveness. Meaning ‘humanity,’ ‘Ubuntu’ theology believes that religion and politics cannot be separated. Ubuntu promotes community, interdependence, and mutual support, unlike the typical western ideology of independence, self-sufficiency, and hierarchy. Ubuntu’s central tenet sounds a lot like UU’s 7th principle: that we promote respect for the interdependent web of life of which we are all a part.

Wrote Desmond Tutu: –

… I have gifts that you do not have, so, consequently, I am unique. You have gifts that I have, so you are unique. God has made us so that we will need each other. We are made for a delicate network of interdependence. (Tutu 35). 

However, Community cannot be sustained without forgiveness, even forgiveness toward perpetrators of apartheid. Desmond Tutu’s recent book title tells it all: No Future without Forgiveness. There is no future if we don’t confront past hurt and injury. Unresolved conflict will destroy God’s community. The humans in God’s community must take responsibility for forgiveness. –

*******

PRACTICAL APPLICATION

How can we become even more forgiving? Since love and forgiveness are integrally related, a proactive mentality toward forgiveness can help us live more lovingly with everyone, even if we do not have specific wrongdoing to work through. Sherrill’s song?

If I had known Desmond Tutu’s vision of forgivenness a few years ago, how might I have dealt differenlty with my friends in Pittsburgh?

-Tutu’s political base might have reminded me not to shy away from issues which require forgiveness, even if we suspect that the other party could hold power over us. In not confronting these issues, we actually reinforce the power and never find forgiveness. – –

– Tutu would have reminded me not to forget about the incident. Forgetting risks repeating past wrongs. – –

– Tutu may have reminded me that if one person hurts, all persons of a community hurt. Ubuntu might have inspired me to re-write our seventh principles, to read something like this: we promote ‘respect for the interdependent web of existence which is sustained by hope for the future through forgiveness and reconciliation.’

So as we asked the children earlier, let us ask ourselves again, who would you like to forgive? Is there anyone you would like forgiveness from? Forgiveness IS possible, and thus a future of reconciliation, hope, and love. For our closing frame, listen to these words of Sara Moores Campbell: – –

… when we invite the power of forgiveness, we release ourselves from some of the destructive hold the past has on us. Our hatred, our anger, our need to feel wronged – those will destroy us, whether a relationship is reconciled or not.

But we cannot just will ourselves to enter into forgiveness, either as givers or receivers. We can know it is right and that we want to do it, and still not be able to.

However, We can be open and receptive to the power of forgiveness, which, like any gift of the spirit, isn’t of our own making. Its power is rooted in love.a transcendent power that lifts us out of ourselves. It transforms and heals; and even when we are separated by time or space or death, it reconciles us to ourselves and to Life. For its power abides not just between us but within us. If we invited the power of love to heal our personal wounds and give us the gift of forgiveness, we would give our world a better chance of survival. (Montgomery 43).

***********

CONCLUSION

Archbishop Tutu believes we have no future without forgiveness. What lies in your future, in your personal relationships, in your community and church life, in your hope for our state and our nation and the world.

Under the cover of war

Davidson Loehr

April 21, 2001 

OPENING

Under the cover of war, stories circulate that all is not well with our nation, that serious things are amiss:

  • hundreds of billions of dollars siphoned from our economy and given to selected corporations
  • civil liberties being curtailed and threatened – some say dangerously
  • growing evidence that our government knew of the September 11th attacks in advance, and may even have known specific details, including the targets.

As people of faith who are also proud Americans, these things must both concern and disturb us. If true, they have profound implications for our lives and for the soul of America. This morning and next Sunday, we gather to ask some hard and necessary questions. Our gathering is sanctified by the high and serious purposes that collect us.

And so once more, it is a sacred time, this and a sacred place, this:

a place for questions more profound than answers,

vulnerability more powerful than strength,

and a peace that can pass all understanding.

It is a sacred time, this:

Let us begin it together in song.

PUPPET SHOW:

CHARACTERS:

Two raccoons

Dragon

Baby Dragon (same voice as the 2nd raccoon)

– So only three voices for this one, though four characters.

All three characters appear at the beginning. The dragon is in the middle, with one raccoon on each side of him/her. The sex of the dragon doesn’t matter, whoever you have who’d like to be a good dragon here.

RACOON 1: (Doing a double-take at the dragon, looking around it to the 2nd raccoon, who’s also doing a double-take at the dragon and looking around it to the 1st raccoon). Hey! Like, uh, like you look a lot like a dragon!

DRAGON: (Dragon is always very cool, very in control.) Like, uh, that’s because I am a dragon – dude.

RACCOON 2: Wow! A dragon! I’ve never seen a real dragon before!

DRAGON: Most raccoons haven’t. Say, you’re a really good-looking raccoon!

(RAC2 kind of sashays, blushes, is really flattered.)

RAC1: Hey! Like what about me over here?

DRAGON: You wouldn’t think a dragon would be able to tell the difference between raccoons, would you? You’d think that to a dragon, you’d all look alike. But dragons can see some things very clearly, even though we don’t have good eyesight for big pictures.

RAC1: Well (grumbling) you sure are different from us, that’s for sure!

RAC2: Yes, you’re so very different from raccoons!

DRAGON: (To RAC2) Very different, very different. Tell me, what do raccoons do all day?

RAC1: Well, we work mostly at night.

(Dragon can upstage, turning his head when RAC1 answered his question to RAC2 with kind of condescending body language, then turning avidly, almost warmly, back to pay attention to RAC2 when RAC2 speaks.)

RAC2: Yes. We hunt for food.

DRAGON: Food? You mean like a nice medium-rare steak dinner with asparagus?

RAC1: Hah! No man, more like canned food. You know, like garbage canned food.

(Dragon can again turn his head toward RAC1 to kind of put him down or dismiss him through body language, before turning back to RAC2.)

DRAGON: (To RAC2) Oh, that’s not right, you should be eating steaks.

RAC2: (The flattery is working). Hey, you’re really nice, for a dragon. But what do you do all day?

DRAGON: Well, we guard the gold, mostly.

RAC1: The gold? Hey, gold’s so cool, ya know? Like what gold?

DRAGON: Oh, a whole mountain full of gold. Tons and tons of it. And diamonds and rubies and other jewels, too. (Looking at RAC2) Tons of the stuff. Here, like this. (Hands RAC2 either some gold, or a necklace, or jewels – whatever is easiest to handle that comes under the heading of “loot”).

RAC2: Oh, wow! Is this stuff real?

DRAGON: Is it real? Why, it’s as real as you are, you gorgeous little raccoon.

RAC2: Ooooooh! (Putting it on or looking at it, adoring the loot, whatever works.)

RAC1: (caustically mocking) “Your gorgeous little raccoon.” Argh! Like man, make me barf, why don’t you? Like whose gold is this you’re guarding?

RAC2: Oh, it’s probably the people’s gold, right? And you’re keeping it safe for them, huh?

DRAGON: (The dragon is much too powerful ever to need to lie). The gold belongs to the rich masters who own the people. They own the mountain, too. We work for them. And we get special things for doing it. (Dragon looks over to RAC2 with this last remark, as it’s intended to make RAC2 ask what special things.)

RAC1: What, you guard gold some rich finks have stolen from the workers? Karl Marx wouldn’t like that.

DRAGON: No, neither would Adam Smith or Thomas Jefferson. But Milton Friedman does.

RAC2: What special things do you get for guarding all that gold? (RAC2 is getting interested, and starting to take the dragon’s side).

DRAGON: (Dragon turns full toward RAC2, ignoring RAC1) Well, we get to fly, and we can breathe fire whenever we feel like it, and everybody is afraid of us. Here, would you like some more gold/jewels? (Gives more to RAC2).

RAC1: Fly? Hey, I wish I could fly! Can you teach me to fly?

DRAGON: (Slowly, and barely, turning to acknowledge RAC1) Sorry, fuzzbutt. That’s for dragons. (To RAC2) But you might be able to fly!

RAC2: Me? Really? Me fly? Oh like wow, that’s so cool!

RAC1: Hey, how come he might fly but not me? Like, that’s not right, man!

DRAGON: (Ignoring RAC1, talking to RAC2). Here, you need some more gold/jewels. Aren’t they nice?

RAC2: (Loaded down with jewels/gold). Oh, these are just beautiful. And they must be worth a fortune!

DRAGON: They are. Several fortunes. And there’s a lot more where they came from, believe me.

RAC2: Oh, I’d love to see it!

DRAGON: Would you? Then here, have some more (gives a big pile of loot to RAC2. RAC2 starts SINKING under the weight, and as he sinks below the stage, the dragon speaks down to him.) – There you go, there you go! See how easy this was? And look at you! You look marvelous!

RAC1: (Feeling – and being – very ignored and left out). Hey, like I don’t know why we’re bothering with you at all, you scaley old lizard. Come on, you gorgeous little raccoon, let’s go. (Looking over around the dragon, sees that the other raccoon is gone.) Hey! Hey, lizard-face! Where’s my friend? Bring back my friend right now!

DRAGON: (Looks down below stage level.) Ah. Yes. Wonderful. (Turning to RAC1) OK, fuzzbutt. See how beautiful your old friend looks now!

BABY DRAGON: (But with the same voice that RAC2 had – the voice needs to be characteristic enough to be easily identifiable.) Oh my gosh! Look what’s happened to me! Why, I’m not a raccoon at all any more! I’m a ? a?

DRAGON: You’re a baby dragon! Congratulations! Now you really are gorgeous!

RAC1: Hey, hey! This isn’t right! This is all wrong!

BABY DRAGON: Watch your lip, fuzzbutt.

RAC1: Hey, he called me Fuzzbutt! What is this?

DRAGON: This, my dull-witted friend, is what this story was about.

RAC1: What? What? I thought this was a story about how different raccoons are from dragons! DRAGON: Nope. This was a story about how to turn a raccoon into a dragon. (Turning to baby dragon) Let’s fly away, baby, we’ve got a date with a big mountain of gold and jewels! (They start flying away, out of sight.)

RAC1: Hey, that’s not right! That’s not right! The story can’t end this way! I don’t like this! This isn’t the end!

BABY DRAGON: (Either just the voice, or the baby dragon comes back up) Sure it is, Duuude. It’s all over. We win and you lose. (Beats raccoon on the head with the THE END sign, though nobody can read the sign because it’s horizontal while he’s beating raccoon with it. Raccoon disappears from sight, saying “I don’t like this, I don’t like this!”)

After RAC1 disappears, Baby Dragon holds the sign up for the audience to see:

THE END

CENTERING:

500 years ago, Martin Luther said “War is the greatest plague that can afflict humanity; it destroys religion, it destroys states, it destroys families.

35 years ago, Martin Luther King Jr. said “Wars are poor chisels for carving out peaceful tomorrows.”

I want to talk with you about our nation’s body and soul this morning. Yet I know there are some here who have come with other needs, needs unrelated to this war.

Some come bearing the pain of private, personal wars: hurts and fears that are much with you this morning. Some come needing comfort, or quiet moments, or the hope of finding someone, somehow, with whom you can share your story. Some come for the first time, wondering what kind of church this is, hoping the service will be typical, and an informative introduction to this style of liberal religion, of being human religiously.

Whoever you are, however you have come to us this morning, I welcome you, and am glad you are with us today. If you have a personal matter or would just like someone to listen, please phone the church office and leave a confidential message in the appropriate mail box. We have a listening ministry of trained church members who can meet with you. And I am available to talk or meet with you. Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock, and the doors shall be opened.

For now, let us take some quiet moments to center ourselves. If you like, you can light a candle of memory or hope during the quiet music.

SERMON

How do you turn a raccoon into a dragon? According to the puppet show, you do it by giving them wealth and privilege until they get used to it. In real life, the question and answers are more complex.

The real question is more like “How do you command and control others, to get them to serve your agenda rather than their own? How do you colonize people?”

This sounds like a political coup, so we think of things like armies, guns, loud noises and the smell of gunpowder. But these loud and rude acts only give you the opportunity to win the people’s mind and heart. Really to win them, or to colonize them, takes more subtle means. Still, it can be put simply: To control people, you need to write their story. You need to write the rules of the game that assign them supporting roles in a story that benefits you – and get them to want to do this.

Most religious teaching teaches us that we live in stories. We don’t live in “facts,” but within the stories that assign those “facts” their meanings. These are our life stories, our myths, our necessary fictions. On a personal level, there are many such stories: be pure, be reliable, be hard-working, witty, popular, prove that daddy was right about us, or prove that daddy wasn’t right about us. We have, between us, hundreds of such personal life scripts that assign us some of our life roles.

But I want to talk about larger stories today. I want to back off and look at the stories we live out, and live out of, as a society. This too could get complex, but I want to keep it simple, by looking at our “official” story – that we are a democracy – and the “real” story that has usually controlled our society – that we are some kind of an aristocracy. Democracy, while a high and noble-sounding ideal, is such an unlikely form of government! Even back when our colonies still belonged to England, there were skeptics. Here are some lines from an 18th century English historian that sound very modern. I haven’t been able to shake them, maybe they’ll stick with you too:

A democracy cannot exist as a permanent form of government. It can only exist until the voters discover that they can vote themselves money from the public treasure. From that moment on the majority always voters for the candidates promising the most money from the public treasury, with the result that a democracy always collapses over loose fiscal policy followed by a dictatorship. The average of the world’s great civilizations has been two hundred years. (Alexander Tyler)

Let’s not pretend that this is easy, or that all good people are naturally and solely on the side of democracy here. If you could get the government to give you money that came from other people’s taxes, wouldn’t you take it? If it were legal, if you could actually get other people to pay your way, how long would it take you to rationalize it? I could do it in ten seconds. The problem is how to do it. How can you get other people to support you?

You do it, again, by getting others to play roles in your preferred story. So let’s go back to America’s stories. Since the 17th century, there have been two primary stories that have vied with each other for control of our society. Their descendents still do.

In the language of those writers, it was the choice between rule by the “masters of mankind” and “the majority of mankind.” It is the rule of the many by the few, or of all by the many. Or, in just single words, it is the choice between an aristocracy and a democracy.

Which is better? We have all been trained to answer “democracy, of course!” But opinions have always been divided on this, as they are today, and even in this room. John Locke, the English philosopher who influenced many of our own Founding Fathers, thought it must be an aristocracy because he didn’t trust the masses. He said that “day-laborers and tradesmen, the spinsters and dairymaids” must be told what to believe: “The greatest part cannot know and therefore they must believe,” he said. Many still agree with him.

Thomas Jefferson took the other side. He said aristocrats are “those who fear and distrust the people, and wish to draw all powers from them into the hands of the higher classes.” Jefferson’s “democrats,” on the other hand, “identify with the people, have confidence in them, cherish and consider them as honest and safe?.”

Those who excel, after all, want excellence to rule. The vast majority want the needs of the vast majority to write the laws, so that all citizens can live rich, empowered lives that allow them to become the most that they can become, whatever that is.

The one story seeks government through command and control; the other, through empowerment and trust. You can already hear which one is more vulnerable and less likely to win, can’t you?

Still, there’s a tactical problem. How will the more powerful and wealthy (for example) pull this off, when they are the distinct minority? For all of our history, this battle between aristocrats and democrats has continued. For the first 150 years of our history, it sometimes seemed like a battle between those who had money and power, and everybody else. The courts (sometimes) kept regulating them through laws and statutes that limited their ability to earn profits at the expense of turning the rest of the country into subsistence-level workers or beggars.

The country, when it had a choice, wasn’t buying the story the aristocrats were trying to sell, and people weren’t willing to spend their lives as servants of the few. Here is the long story of labor disputes, monopoly and anti-trust laws, and other rulings designed to protect the rights of the majority from the extra power and skill of those who would be their rulers. If you know much American history, you already know all of this. There’s nothing new here.

But in the 20th century, something new did come along. It was a new invention that could become a tool powerful enough to let a smart few rule an unaware many. It came with mass communication, and was first noticed over 80 years ago, in WWI. It was the invention of propaganda. “Propaganda has only one object,” wrote one of its early masters: “to conquer the masses.” Propaganda is the tool used by a small minority to sell their story to a large majority. With enough slick spin, emotional power, and appeal to elemental yearnings and powerful symbols (as in “God bless America”), a few brilliant visionaries can convert and control an entire nation.

After WWI, people on both sides of the Atlantic wrote about this new invention. Adolph Hitler praised the British, and said the main reason that Germany lost the war was because its propaganda was so inferior to the British. He vowed to learn from the British.

And in this country too, President Woodrow Wilson formed a new group to adapt techniques of using propaganda to influence the American people in desired directions. This was in the 1920s. Let me read you a few quotes from that decade:

The great American journalist Walter Lippman was in President Wilson’s propaganda organization, along with Edward Bernays, who could be called the father of American propaganda. Bernays led the transfer of wartime propaganda skills to business’s peacetime problems of coping with democracy. When the war ended, he wrote, business “realized that the great public could now be harnessed to their cause as it had been harnessed during the war to the national cause, and the same methods could do the job.”

And the payoff? In the words of one of these early propagandists: “If the others let a minority conquer the state, then they must also accept the fact that we will establish a dictatorship.” There is the end of democracy that the 18th century English historian warned about. Once a group learns how to manipulate the masses to its own ends, democracy ends, replaced by a dictatorship, a rule of the few, an aristocracy. This last quote came from Joseph Goebbles, Hitler’s minister of propaganda. It was also Goebbles who said that propaganda’s one object was to conquer the masses, just as he described the masses as “the weak, cowardly, lazy majority of people.”

But the masses – and you realize, I hope, that this means us. We are the masses over whom sly leaders vie for control – the masses weren’t thought of any more highly on this side of the Atlantic. Walter Lippman wrote of the “ignorance and stupidity of the masses.” The general public, he said, were mere “ignorant and meddlesome outsiders,” who must not intrude in the management of public affairs, though they may be permitted to select periodically among the “responsible men” whose task it is to rule them.

Do you see that this is the tool the aristocracy had needed since our country began, a tool to let them write the story for the masses, to put a command and control government in place of a government of empowerment and trust. The invention of propaganda and its immediate use after WWI is one of the most important stories of the 20th century.

Propaganda was talked about pretty openly during its early years, before people realized that wasn’t a very smart thing to do. In 1934, the new president of the American Political Science Association said in his presidential address that government should be in the hands of “an aristocracy of intellect and power,” not directed by “the ignorant, the uninformed.” “The public must be put in its place,” added Walter Lippman, so that the “responsible men” may “live free of the trampling and the roar of a bewildered herd” as they rule them.

That “bewildered herd” – that’s us too, you know.

This is a chapter of American history we must know if we are to understand who is running our country and how they run it. But we don’t know it, do we? Why do you suppose that is?

This is a lot of new and probably strange information. Let me try to sum it up in a clear and simple way, borrowing from the writings of Alex Carey (Taking the Risk Out of Democracy):

There were three key developments in the 20th century which have shaped the world we’re living in today: the growth of democracy, the growth of corporate power, and the growth of corporate propaganda as a means of protecting corporate power against democracy.

Corporate propaganda directed outwards toward the public has two main goals: to identify the free-enterprise system in popular consciousness with every cherished value, and to identify interventionist governments and strong unions – the only forces capable of checking the complete domination of society by corporations – with tyranny, oppression and subversion. The techniques used to do this are variously called “public relations,” “corporate communications” and “economic education.”

Corporate propaganda directed inwards to employees has the purpose of weakening the links between union members and their unions. From about 1920 through the present, US business made great progress towards the ideal of a democracy managed through corporate propaganda.

Those who run the best corporations didn’t get where they are by being stupid. They are among the most savvy and quick people in our society; few Ph.D.s would stand a chance against them in their court. Those who were entrusted with corporate power realized that one of the best investments they can make with their money is to invest in buying the politicians who make the laws.

Current struggles to pass meaningful campaign finance reform are attempts to undo this powerful structure of command and control by corporations. But for the past couple decades, many or most of our major political candidates are, like used BMWs, “pre-owned vehicles.” In order to get the money they need to compete in American elections, they must get large investments from large business interests. And for those investments, they owe something once they’re in office. They owe their investors the effort to slant the laws of the land in ways that let their investors “vote themselves money from the public treasure,” as that 18th century historian put it.

What does this mean? It means weakening or eliminating controls on environmental pollution or toxic emissions or burial of radioactive waste, letting chemical companies like Monsanto infect the entire continent’s wheat and corn crops with genetically modified organisms that have not, and can not be, tested.

It means reducing the taxes corporations pay, and shifting that tax burden to the citizens those of us in the bewildered herd, so that they can vote themselves money out of our personal treasuries. It means breaking unions, and redefining the economy as one that revolves around the price of stocks rather than the ability of regular citizens to earn good livings through an honest day’s work.

You can see how corporate investments in political candidates work by looking at NAFTA. NAFTA was carefully crafted as an investor rights agreement. It can’t be considered a worker’s rights agreement. Opening the borders means that America’s higher-paid workers must now compete with the far cheaper labor in Mexico. This threat has been used routinely to break American union demands for decent wages and benefits. If they refuse, the manufacturing is simply moved to northern Mexico, to workers who have low pay and few benefits, but see it as an improvement over abject poverty. NAFTA is an investor rights agreement. It is paying dividends on the financial investment that corporations and wealthy individuals made in our elections. They helped elect their candidate, and they want payback. It is only fair.

Or you can see how the paybacks from investing in elections work by looking at Texas’ own, Enron’s former CEO Kenneth Lay. Lay was the biggest single investor in George W. Bush’s campaign for president. In return for this investment, Lay was able to appoint White House regulators, shape energy policies and block the regulation of offshore tax havens, Enron had “intimate contact with Taliban officials” and the energy giant’s much-reviled Dabhol project in India was set to benefit from a hook-up with the oil pipeline we planned to run through Afghanistan.

These negotiations collapsed in August 2001 – a date that should begin making our ears stick up – when the Taliban asked the US to help reconstruct Afghanistan’s infrastructure and provide a portion of the oil supply for local needs. The US response was reportedly succinct: “We will either carpet you in gold or carpet you in bombs.” The notes of this meeting, which took place only weeks before September 11th, are now the subject of a lawsuit between Congress and the White House. Was the Taliban really destroyed for harboring terrorists? Or was it destroyed for failing to further the ambitions of Texas millionaires?

The London paper The Guardian also reports that US State Department officials in early July of 2001 informed their Russian and Pakistani counterparts of possible plans to invade Afghanistan in the fall.

To put this in the form of a question made famous during the Watergate investigation 30 years ago, we now need to ask “What did the President know, and when did he know it?”

Once we began our new war, it provided a cover for other agendas that the administration had been trying to do since the election, to fulfill their promises to their corporate investors.

I read in early March that over $212 billion was transferred from our economy to our larger corporations in the form of retroactive tax refunds sometimes going back fifteen years. Democracy can only exist “until [some] voters discover that they can vote themselves money from the public treasure.”

Huge tax refunds were voted in, from which well over 90% went to the richest 1% of Americans. These are some of the returns on their investments in the president’s campaign.

And do you recall Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld’s recent statement? While requesting an additional $48 billion for defense, much of which will go to corporations closely related to this administration, he casually mentioned that the Pentagon had somehow misplaced $2.3 trillion. This makes me want Lewis Black to do an angry rant! It’s the wrong verb! Nobody “misplaces” $2.3 trillion. Someone took it, moved it to somewhere else, and others else got it. Who? Was it done without the President’s knowledge? If not, again, what did the President know, and when did he know it?

News reports from Der Spiegel to the London Observer, from the Los Angeles Times to MSNBC to CNN indicate that many different warnings were received by the Administration before the 9-11 attacks. It has even been reported that the US government broke bin Laden’s secure communications before September 11. The US government is being sued today by survivors of the Embassy bombings because, from court reports, it appears clear that the US had received prior warnings then too, but did nothing to protect the staffs at our embassies. Did the same thing happen again?

And does it get even worse? Could there be an even darker side to the events of 9-11? Maybe. I read an article in the March/April issue of The Humanist magazine that’s worth sharing. (I’ve since been told by several people at the three services on Sunday 21 April that these things were widely known and discussed back in September. But I don’t have independent verification.)

In the days leading up to 9-11, thousands of “put” options were purchased on companies whose stocks tanked after September 11. “Put” options are bought by investors when they are willing to gamble that a company’s stock prices will go down in the near future. Most prominent among these companies are American and United Airlines, whose planes hit the twin towers, and the investment firms of Morgan Stanley and Merril Lynch, whose offices were destroyed in the towers.

Between September 6 and 7, investors purchased 4,744 “put” options in United Airlines at the Chicago Board Options Exchange. At the same time, only 396 “call” options – where an investor bets on a stock price increasing – were purchased.On September 10, investors bought 4,516 “put” options in American Airlines versus 748 call options. In the three days prior to September 11, investors bought 2,157 “put” options in Morgan Stanley, a company which occupied fifty floors of office at the WTC. Volume during the previous week was a mere 27 “put” options per day. Likewise, investors bought another 12,215 “put” options for WTC tenant Merril Lynch.

 

Most embarrassing to the government, however, is the fact that many of the mysterious “put” options were purchased through an investment firm that was formally headed by Buzzy Krongard, the current executive director of the CIA.

Next week I want to keep exploring some of these issues. I want to look into propaganda more deeply, and to look at some disturbing developments indicating a new political ideology beginning to take over the religious right in this country – much to the dismay of some of their own Christian ministers. I’ll also want to look at much that is right and promising, and suggest some actions we might take.

But I have asked a lot of you today. I have tried to put some clear patterns to a tremendous amount of what will be new information for most of you. I may be wrong. My patterns and understanding may be wrong. The patterns I see suggest that the aristocracy controlling our election processes and much of our government is not serving, and can not serve, the interests or needs of the vast majority of the American people.

Under the cover of war, I believe there is a good chance that we are losing our American way of life, our civil freedoms, our economy, and the remaining vestiges of our democracy, just as that cynical historian predicted 250 years ago.

Where does this leave us? It reconnects me with some of my strongest and most basic convictions:

  • We cannot lose faith. We must continue to appeal to the better angels of our nature, and the better angels of our leaders.
  • We cannot lose hope. The future is not yet written, its options are still open.
  • And we must try not to become self-righteous or mean-spirited, or attempt to harm our nation. We may and must criticize and chastise its errant ways. But we must struggle to do it in a spirit of love. I struggle mightily with this one, and often lose here.

I hope and I pray that we may indeed add our critical and caring voices to the dialogue. And even though we are few and our efforts may seem meager, they are essential – for us, for our nation, and for the world.

Let us go forth in faith, in hope, and in love.

Amen.

New Life for Old

© Davidson Loehr

15 April 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

(This was the Easter service, which is also this church’s annual celebration of the Flower Communion created by Dr. Norbert Capek in 1923. While it doesn’t read like a straight sermon, all the words are reproduced here for those who would like to know more about this unique “communion” and how this particular church celebrates it.)

FLOWER PROCESSIONAL AND STORY OF THE FLOWERS

As the flowers are brought forward, I want to tell you a little about the story of the flowers. This ceremony was created by a Czechoslovakian Unitarian minister named Dr. Norbert Capek in 1923. His church in Prague had 3200 members, and was the largest Unitarian church there has ever been. Today, Unitarians hardly even know how to dream of such numbers and such influence.

Capek had felt the need for some symbolic ritual that could recognize people’s unique gifts, but also bind them more closely together – the idea of diversity within unity with which we still struggle today. The traditional Christian communion service with bread and wine was unacceptable to the members of his congregation, so he turned to the native beauty of the Czech countryside for the elements of a new kind of communion that might speak to them. The Flower Communion we will celebrate today was the result. It was an immediate success, and was held annually. His wife brought it to this country in 1940, and it is now celebrated annually in most Unitarian or Unitarian Universalist churches here.

Dr. Capek was arrested by the Nazis in 1941 because of his liberal religious beliefs, and taken to Dachau. He died in a concentration camp in 1942, so he is also seen as a martyr for the cause of more honest and open religion.

In his service, as in this one, he asked each member to bring a flower to church. This signified that it was by their own free will they joined with the others. And, as we also do here, his church provided a lot of extra flowers, to make sure that everybody would get one. The flowers were arranged in a vase, as we have arranged them in baskets. The baskets represent the united fellowship of the whole church. After the service, as people left the church, they each took a flower other than the one they had brought. The significance of the flower communion is that as no two flowers are alike, so no two people are alike, yet each has a contribution to make. Together the flowers form a beautiful bouquet. Our common bouquet would not be the same without the unique addition of each individual flower, just as our growing church community would not be the same without each of us.

By exchanging flowers, we show our willingness to walk together in our search for truth, rising above all that might divide us. Each person takes home a flower brought by someone else – thus symbolizing our shared celebration in community. This communion of voluntary sharing is essential to a free people in a free religion.

CENTERING: (Adapted from “Prayer Before Birth” by Louis MacNeice)

I am not yet born; O hear me. I am your tomorrows, but I am not yet born.

I am not yet born, console me. Protect me from the doubts that strangle, the fears that stifle, the friends who drain and demean.

I am not yet born; give me dreams of what we may yet become, and nourish me, that I do not starve before I gain the strength to walk, and to fly, and perhaps even to soar with the eagles.

I am not yet born; O hear me, Let not the woman who is a beast or the man who thinks he is God come near me. And those who can remain big only by keeping those around them small – guard me from them, for I am yet a fragile thing.

I am not yet born; O fill me with strength against those who would freeze my humanity, who would make me into a thing, a mere thing, who would dissuade and dissipate me until I lose my spirit, and then my soul, and then my hope, and your hope as well.

For I am the greater you who is not yet born, And together we must strive, must strive with the gods if necessary, for so much is at stake, there is so much to be gained. I am the you who is yet to become, and I am not yet born. Help me.

SERMON: New Life for Old

This morning I want to take this sermon title in two directions. The first is to talk a little about the very ancient Easter tradition. It’s message, both in pre-Christian and in Christian cultures, was the message of “new life for old.” Literal religions took it literally, liberal religions took it symbolically, and it always takes some work to relate the old Easter stories to the world as we know it today, and to life as we are living it today.

I have a confession to make that will sound very un-Unitarian to nearly everybody who has been here for a few years or more: this is the first time I have ever been involved in a Flower Communion. I didn’t even know the story, except in the barest outline. It is almost always celebrated in Unitarian churches on the second Sunday in June, which is when Dr. Capek celebrated it, as the last regular church service until fall. We are a full-service church that meets every Sunday of the year, so we don’t have a “last regular church service until fall,” and in this church, the Flower Communion has been celebrated on Easter Sunday.

So the second thing we’ll be doing this morning is becoming acquainted with Dr. Norbert Capek’s invention of the Flower Communion as another kind of “new life for old” – inventing new stories and rituals that may communicate a little more easily with us today, while still connecting us with what Dr. Capek called the “Infinite Spirit of Life.”

But first, let’s begin with Easter. There are several things about our culture’s two favorite holidays – Christmas and Easter – that are very ironic.

One is that both of them are ancient pagan celebrations, with no necessary connection to Christianity or any other modern religion whatever. The symbols for the winter solstice festival, which most of us have learned to call Christmas, are all from the ancient days of nature religions: evergreens, the holly and ivy, mistletoe, and of course light. Whether a Yule log is burned, or Christmas bonfires are lit, or just candles, there is always light. This is also clear in the festival the Jews created for the same time, Chanuka, which is also called the festival of lights.

And the symbols for the vernal equinox, or Easter, are also completely pagan, from nature religions and ancient agricultural societies. Easter is about new life. The two prime symbols of Easter are that timeless symbol of fecundity, the rabbit, and those numberless symbols of fertility, eggs – this isn’t subtle. The other symbols of Easter are signs of spring: bright colors and Easter bonnets.

The name “Easter” probably came from an ancient goddess of spring named Eostre, who also had a special rabbit [hare] who laid eggs for good children to eat. And “Easter lilies” probably began as Eostre’s flower. It was said they were “lily white” because they grew from Eostre’s milk. Later, the Romans said the lilies were Juno’s and were white because they grew from her milk. And still later, the Christians identified “Easter lilies” with the Virgin Mary, and said they were white because they grew from her milk. It’s a story people liked, and told in many cultures.

Another ironic thing about these two holidays is that they are really celebrating the same thing, the power of life over death, or of new life for old. They are our two most optimistic holidays. Many thousands of years ago, people noticed several examples of this. They used the cycles of the moon as a symbol of death and rebirth. Each month there is about a three-day period between the shrinking moon and the expanding moon when it is almost gone. They saw this as a three-day period of death followed by the rebirth of the new moon. Then the moon grows larger into a full moon, then grows smaller again, “dies” again, and is reborn again. This plot of dying for three days then returning to life was woven into many religious stories, including the Christian Easter story, where the man Jesus is said to have died, then three days later risen as God. There is a similar cycle in plants. Seeds look dead, we bury them in the ground, and then new life springs forth through the ground – like all these flowers. So when people were buried in the ground, many hoped they too would rise again into a new kind of life. These are ancient hopes, myths arising from deep in our souls and our past.

I like these stories, but they are so fantastic that it’s hard for us to know just what to do with them. We live in an age of science, but these ancient stories aren’t written in the language of science. They are written in the language of hope, the language of faith.

A friend of mine, a colleague from the Jesus Seminar, retired about six years ago after a forty-year career as a minister in the United Church of Christ. He founded the Church of the Beatitudes in Phoenix, Arizona in 1955 with about fifty people, and when he retired in 1995, it had 2500 members. He made a point of telling people who attended the Jesus Seminar — and wondered how you could ever preach the truth from a pulpit — that he had never lied from his pulpit. He began every Easter sermon, he said, by saying that Easter isn’t about corpses walking, it’s about the chance for our lives to be reborn, rejuvenated, here and now, in ways that might seem magical, but were not supernatural. This man, Culver Nelson, had a lot of charisma, and I think he could get away with saying that where thousands of other Christian ministers could not get away with it. Usually, it’s hard work to relate these old stories of death and resurrection to the world as we know it and life as we actually live it. I’ve done an Easter sermon every year of my career, and a lot of times I’ve wished we could just use different stories, stories and symbols that communicated more directly.

Now I want to make a transition to the second part of this short sermon. I couldn’t find a smooth and classy way to do it, because the two halves aren’t very closely related. So I decided to do it in a light-hearted way, maybe even a silly way. This week an e-mail made the rounds of some ministers’ groups where we exchange some ideas and materials. It was a list called “All I need to know about life I learned from the Easter Bunny.” It’s a play on the book title All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, by Unitarian Minister Robert Fulghum. It’s kind of like some Easter sermons you may have heard, taking an old story and loading it with some funny modern messages. I don’t know who wrote it, but here are some of the life lessons you can learn from the Easter Bunny:

Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket

Walk softly and carry a big carrot

Everyone needs a friend who is all ears

There’s no such thing as too much candy

All work and no play can make you a basket case

Everyone is entitled to a bad hare day

Let happy thoughts multiply like rabbits

Keep your paws off other people’s jellybeans

Good things sometimes come in small sugarcoated packages

The grass is always greener in someone else’s basket

An Easter bonnet can tame even the wildest hare

To show your true colors you have to come out of your shell

And – The best things in life are still sweet and gooey

The Flower Communion

That’s one way to give new life to old symbols. But there is another way that is distinctly liberal. And that is to introduce new stories that open us up to some of life’s gifts in more direct ways, so we don’t have to keep working so hard to translate ancient symbols like the symbols of rabbits, eggs, death and resurrection so they don’t mislead people into confusing religion with superstition.

It’s a pretty bold move, inventing a new ritual. Most of the time it will probably bomb, because it’s hard to find new rituals that speak to people easily. But that’s what Dr. Capek (Chah-Peck) did with his Flower Communion when he invented it in 1923. I already told you the story earlier, but it’s worth going into a little more detail about some of Capek’s religious beliefs, which were inspiring both then and now.

He thought that all people were inherently religious, and inherently good, and he taught that religion should, above all, provide that “inner harmony which is the precondition of strong character, good health, joyful moods and victorious creative life. It is my ideal,” he wrote, “that unitarian religion in our country should mean a higher culture – new attitudes toward life. In short, unitarian religion should mean the next advanced cultural level of our people.” The church’s task “must be to place truth above any tradition, spirit above any scripture, freedom above authority, and progress above all reaction.”

He defined religious education as “an endeavor to awaken the inner forces of children and teach them how to organize, harmonize and adapt them to the ever-changing influences which come to them from outside.” He identified a list of feelings and abilities which a modern religious education should elicit from a child. They included, in his terms, the ability to have faith and confidence, the ability to hope, the feeling of worship (like Albert Schweitzer’s reverence for life), charity or selfless love, and conscientiousness. In the 1920s and 1930s, he thought that a person with these qualities was a truly religious person. In 2001, I think so too. You could say it was a very optimistic faith that Capek had, just before the dark days of the Nazi occupation of Czeckoslovakia from 1939 – 1945.

When the Nazis took control of Prague in 1940, they found Dr. Capek’s gospel of the inherent worth and beauty of every human being to be – in the words of the Nazi court records – “too dangerous to the Reich [for him] to be allowed to live.” Think about that: believing that people were good made him too dangerous to be allowed to live; what a complete failure of the human spirit that was! Dr. Capek was arrested in 1941 and sent to Dachau. He died in a concentration camp the next year. This gentle man suffered a cruel death, but his message of human hope and decency lives on through his Flower Communion, which is celebrated in many of our churches today.

Before his life was taken from him, he gave new life for old by creating this beautiful ritual celebrating the interweaving of diversity and community. You will each judge for yourselves this morning where you found more new life for old – in revisiting the Easter stories, or in visiting the Unitarian Flower Communion. But as we prepare for our celebration of Dr. Capek’s Flower Communion, I want to suggest that the Nazi court records, as they often did, had it completely backwards. Because people who believe in, and who teach, the inherent worth and beauty of all people are the only ones whose beliefs equip them to live, and to share in the gifts of life that others bring.

BENEDICTION:

For our benediction this morning, I have adapted some words which Dr. Capek used in his Flower Communions:

Infinite Spirit of Life, we ask thy blessing on these fragile flowers, which are thy messengers of fellowship and love. May they remind us, amid diversities of knowledge and of gifts, to be one in desire and affection, and devotion to our most sacred callings. May they also remind us of the value of comradeship, of doing and sharing with each other. May we cherish friendship as one of the most sacred and precious manifestations of the Infinite Spirit of Life. May we realize that, [as these flowers each contribute their different styles of beauty, every one of us is an embodiment of the gods, and in every one of us the gods struggle for higher expression.

FLOWER COMMUNION:

It is time now for us to share in the Flower Communion. I ask that as you each in turn approach the communion baskets you do so quietly – reverently – with a sense of how important it is for each of us to address our world and one another with gentleness, justice, and love. I ask that you select a flower – different from the one you brought – that particularly appeals to you. If you didn’t bring a flower, don’t worry about it, we have provided plenty of extras for you so that everybody can have one. As you take your chosen flower – noting its particular shape and beauty – please remember to handle it carefully. It is a gift that someone else has brought to you. It represents that person’s unique humanity, and therefore deserves your kindest touch. Let us share quietly in this beautiful ritual of unity, diversity, and love.

As you come up to get your flower, please start with the back row and move row by row from the side aisles to the front. After taking a flower, please exit by the center aisles. We will then leave to recreate this bouquet of harmonized gifts in the world outside these walls, where our diverse gifts are as desperately needed as our ability to blend them into a bouquet. Accompanied by our flowers, let us leave this place of worship with peace, with hope, and with beauty.

An Easter Story

Martin Bryant

April 8, 2001

First UU Church of Austin, Texas

On Palm Sunday, First UU member Martin Bryant will review the powerful story of Jesus of Nazareth. Martin’s spiritual path led him to reconciliation with its message. He will discuss the value of this reconciliation for other humanist/universalists, for his church, and his denomination.

A handful of years ago, I became dissatisfied with my rationalist lack-of faith, and I undertook to try and discover what spirituality was and how I could introduce more of it into my life.

Among the first conscious steps was to talk to a friend of mine for whom spirituality seemed to be a major component of his life. He followed the Indian and Buddhist religious traditions and spent at least a week each year at meditation retreats and had traveled to India in search of inspiration. His answer to me was surprising. He said I’ve been told by many of my teachers that Jesus is a path to enlightenment and an appropriate one for many Americans.

Now I was raised, and confirmed as a Methodist, but it never took, and after I had been in college most of a year, my born-again Baptist high school sweetheart sent me a Dear John letter that called me a heathen. So in spite of my initial reaction to this suggestion that I had already rejected this and the suggestion seemed a little condescending, I accepted this as a challenge and thus began a year or so of sojourning into these things and so I turned to C.S. Lewis. I read not only his wonderful Narnia Chronicles to my children, but I read his other works, including Mere Christianity. Mere Christianity can serve as a sort of rosetta stone for the Christian jargon. From Mr. Lewis, finally I had a working definition of what the “holy ghost” was, but I still didn’t get possessed.

Over the course of that year I also taught the Jesus curriculum to the Jr. High R.E. Class here at First UU. I was determined that it would be respectful and as accurate as I could make it. However, accuracy is a difficult concept in these matters. Though I could talk respectfully about Jesus, to convey understanding about Christianity required a Christian, something I simply was not.

On Easter weekend, Mary K., the then three kids and I went on a camping trip near Kerrville. Driving back in the rain on Easter Sunday, my daughter Kathleen asked about Easter “what did it mean? Why did Christians celebrate it?” I was silent for a while and then told the story of Jesus, not too differently from how I am about to tell it here.

Years passed and in the spring one year a professional colleague of mine who I admire, really my mentor, a devout Christian, sent me a simple e-mail. I had discussed this place with him and he was somewhat confused by it. Right before Easter he sent me this message asking “What about Easter? What do you and your church do on Easter?”.

By this time, I was beginning to find access into myself. My initial guide was the Tao-te-Ching. I am still fascinated by the most ancient texts. I had discovered what many here know, that my sojourn was and would be one of self-discovery. But Don’s question asked me to look back at Christianity. I did and I thought about the story I told my daughter, driving in the rain. I reflected that it gathered much of what I knew about Jesus and I wrote it down for Don and her and I guess for you..

The story begins many thousands of years ago. And those that know it, know that things were not going too well between the one, Yahweh, and his people. Things had started out pretty rocky with the apple from the tree of knowledge. Then there was the time the big guy got so mad he flooded the earth, drowning everyone except Noah, his family, and two of each of the animal species. Remember Sodom and Gomorrah? Even after saving the people from famine in Egypt and then delivering them from servitude, with dramatic plagues and locust swarms no less, there was that Golden Calf incident. The commandments didn’t really help too much. Frankly they reinforced the opinion folks had of the one – prescriptive and vindictive.

Well, Yahweh felt misunderstood. And so, he sent a messenger to better explain his position. A prophet, an angel, a treasured one, more a part of himself than any other.

And people were very surprised. Jesus of Nazareth shattered the “prescriptive and vindictive” image. He taught compassion and tended to the sick, including the lepers. He taught mercy and protected the sinner. He taught justice and brought his message to foreigners, women, and children. He eschewed religious law to assist people on the Sabbath. He taught that man could best show his love for Yahweh by loving his fellow man. And he lived his teachings.

A message this radical was hard to take. Jesus’ earthly mentor had been arrested and beheaded. And Jesus was even more popular and dangerous, both to the established church and the complicated government of his occupied homeland. And so Jesus of Nazareth, too was arrested. According to the story, he reacted to this with a discipline of nonviolence that was consistent with his teachings. But as we all who know the story know, Jesus’ fate, as was John’s before him, was to die.

Now whether by divine hand, or well crafted lore, this part of the story seems to be designed to make clear that the blame for Jesus’ execution should not be assigned to any one party. The Roman governor had him whipped, but limited punishment to that. The Jewish puppet monarch also refused to declare a punishment, giving the crowd the right to determine Jesus’ fate. Jesus’ own friends denied or otherwise betrayed him. Yes, Jesus would die, and it would be everyone’s fault, including, to the extent we could see our failings (of lost faith, embarrassment, and negligence) in those who killed him, our own.

But there was Jesus, beaten, bleeding, in enormous pain, humiliated, and a few breaths from death by horrible execution. And hanging from the cross, Jesus uttered among the most famous words of our lore “Forgive them, father, they know not what they do”

Now imagine you were among those early Christians. Believing that Jesus was the unique “son of God” and knowing the history of Yahweh, the powerful one who had proven to have such a nasty temper in the days of Noah and Moses. Those simple words “forgive them, father”, might offer little hope of protection from that awful wrath.

How long would we wait for the vengeance? Hours? Days? Months? Years? Centuries? What is this time to an omnipotent one?

And yet each day, the sun rose. The seas did not boil with blood, the skies did not fill with death. Those few words, requesting forgiveness began to seem like a shield, protecting the people. Protecting them from a terrible vengeance they completely deserved. There was no other explanation.

Well, two thousand years have passed and here we are now, recognizing the power of that forgiveness. Two thousand years. Forgive them Father.

Now, I’m not one of those people that believes that this story is either historically or metaphysically accurate. In the Gospel according to Mark…….Twain, he said “There’s nothing to change the truth like a good story”. And like many great stories, this one does “ring” true.

If I can learn from this story, if I can learn to be compassionate to the sick, even those that frighten me. If I can be merciful, even to those who threaten me. If I can exercise justice and see all of my sisters and brothers as equals. If I can see beyond dogma and religious law to a religion of kindness and understanding. If I can l be truly nonviolent and turn the other cheek. If I can make my life a mission of reconciliation and tender instruction. If I can forgive, when forgiveness seems impossible.

If I can learn to love.

Then maybe, I can be a Christian, in the same sense as my Unitarian predecessor Thomas Jefferson, who wrote: “I am a Christian, in the only sense he wished any one to be; sincerely attached to his doctrines, in preference to all others; ascribing to himself every human excellence; and believing he never claimed any other.”

Many Unitarian Universalist churches, including this one, seem to have an invisible picture of Jesus over the front doors. Unlike other churches, however, ours has a red circle and a bar across his face. I remember one meeting I attended here where we were discussing not having too much Christian music in the service and someone stated “We never have Jesus or Christ in the music in our church” followed by “…..well never in English in anyway.”

Not unlike my namesake of a few hundred years ago, I’d like to take hammer in hand and climb the church steps — not to nail something on the doors, but to tear down that invisible sign. It does us many disservices.

Firstly, it denies us the proven spiritual power of this story and this message. A message that is in great part responsible for the best parts of our culture. A message that is at the heart of both our Unitarian and Universalist traditions.

Secondly, it alienates those do not need or want the unnecessary and convoluted theology that others package with them, but find cultural reassurance in Jesus’ message and great comfort in the symbol of the kind and wise shepherd. They feel if he is not welcome here, they must not be either.

Thirdly, our rejection of this story is a barrier between between us and liberal Christians. A barrier which prevents us from cooperating with these fine people in ways that could be powerful and meaningful for us and our communities. A barrier which prevents us from building partnerships that could be transforming for ourselves and our communities.

Finally, that sign abandons this story to be the exclusive license of those whose unnecessary and convoluted theology separates this story from the Universal faith where it belongs. If we cannot preach this story here, then it cannot be taught without those things that some cannot accept.

Did Jesus rise? I don’t know. Jesus taught compassion, and justice, and forgiveness.

Can you roll back the great stone of guilt and fear and let those things rise in you?

It Ain't Necessarily So

Davidson Loehr

April 1, 2001 

Listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

PUPPET SHOW

Written by Davidson Loehr and the No Strings Attached Puppet Players

This Performance : Ryan Hill, Julie Irwin, David Smith, and Eric Kay

Parrot, two raccoons and Mother Parrot.

Parrot and raccoons appear, raccoons on one side, parrot on the other.

Parrot

Hey, see my new hat?

Beavis Raccoon

Hey, where’d you get that hat, bird?

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah. That’s a cool hat. How’d a goofy-looking bird get such a cool hat, huh?

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, heh, heh, how’d that happen?

Parrot

Well, I got it volunteering for “Wings on Housing”, that’s how.

Butthead Raccoon

Uh….don’t you mean “Paws on Housing”?

Parrot

No, Wings on Housing. That’s where we rebuild the nests for birds in the forest who need help.

Butthead Raccoon

(To Beavis Raccoon)

Hey, I like, want that hat!

Beavis Raccoon

Hey, yeah, I want it too, heh heh.

Parrot

Well you can get one if you volunteer, too. The next one is on April 28th and 29th.

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, right. Well, how about we just take it!

Beavis Raccoon

Take it! Yeh, that’s good, let’s just take it! Heh heh.

(The raccoons go over and take the parrot’s hat.)

Parrot

Say, what are you doing? You took my hat!

Butthead Raccoon

Took your hat?

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, took your hat?

Butthead Raccoon

Why are you saying we took your hat?

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, why?

Parrot

YOU TOOK MY HAT! YOU TOOK IT RIGHT OFF MY HEAD, AND NOW YOU HAVE IT ON YOUR HEAD! THAT’S WHY!! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!

Beavis Raccoon

Heh, can’t do it?

Butthead Raccoon

Can’t do it? You mean you haven’t heard about the law?

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, I’ll bet the dumb bird has never heard the law!

Parrot

Law? What law? You stole my hat!

Butthead Raccoon

The law – well, it’s the law that says raccoons have the right to take the hats off of parrots, that’s what!

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, heh, heh, because we’re bigger-

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, and there are two of us.

Beavis Raccoon

It’s the law, heh heh.

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, it’s the law, you dumb parrot.

Parrot

I don’t believe you! What a dumb law!

Parrot Exits Below

Beavis Raccoon

Well, um, it’s the law.

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, bird, it’s the law.

Beavis Raccoon

Um- like, where’d the bird go?

Parrot enters with a scarf on.

Parrot

All right, keep my hat you dumb raccoons!

Beavis Raccoon

Hey, cool scarf!

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, cool scarf, bird!

(The raccoons mutter between themselves, agree, laugh, then one goes over and takes the scarf away from the parrot.)

Parrot

Now stop that! You stole my hat! You can’t steal my scarf too!

Beavis Raccoon

Boy, you really don’t know the law!

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, what a dumb bird.

Parrot

Now what law is this?

Butthead Raccoon

Um- it’s like, the law that says- .uh-

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, the law, the law that says that-

Butthead Raccoon

Heh- It says that once we have your hat, we can have your scarf too!

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, because like the hat and scarf like go together, and if we have one then we need the other.

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh. Dumb bird.

Parrot

(Pulls out a candy bar or some sweet treat.)

Oh, I’m so unhappy, this just isn’t fair!

Beavis Raccoon

Hey, hey, uh, what’s that?

Parrot

When I feel sad, I have a candy bar. It makes me feel better.

The raccoons mutter quickly to each other, then one takes the candy bar.

Parrot

Hey!

Butthead Raccoon

Sorry, bird, but it’s the law.

Parrot

What law? You’re making these laws up!

Butthead Raccoon

Well bird, that’s the law.

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, it’s the law.

Parrot

What law?

Butthead Raccoon

Well, um- the law that says when we have more stuff than you do-

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, like hats, scarves, things like that-

Butthead Raccoon

That we can take anything else we want from you too!

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, like you know if you don’t have any stuff, then you don’t have any rights to have other stuff!

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah right, we have your stuff, so we get the rest of your stuff.

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, yeah, it’s like in the bible, or something-

Parrot

The Bible?

Butthead Raccoon

Yeah, it’s like religious and everything. It says “To them who have, even more shall be given”

Beavis Racoon

“and to them that don’t have, even what they have will be taken away.”

Butthead Raccoon

So like it’s the law, and it’s religious.

(The raccoons start laughing, mocking the parrot, making fun, waving the hat, scarf, candy bar, etc.)

(Mother Parrot enters and quickly takes the hat, scarf and candy bar away from the raccoons.)

Butthead Raccoon

Hey, like, what are you doing?

Mother Parrot

April Fool! April Fool! (Laughs.)

Beavis Raccoon

April Fool? What’s April Fool?

Mother Parrot

It’s April Fool’s Day! You didn’t really think I’d like you steal everything from the parrot, did you?

(Gives everything back to the parrot.)

After all, that wouldn’t be fair. And the real rules are fair, not set up so you can just steal from each other!

Beavis Raccoon

Aw man “that”

Butthead Raccoon

Aww, come on, you’re spoiling our game.

Parrot

It was just awful! I thought they were going to take everything I had! I was so scared!

Mother Parrot

No, nobody can do that. Only on April Fools’ Day would they think they could do that! Here, have another candy bar, it’ll make you feel better

(Gives another candy bar to the parrot).

Parrot

Oh, thank you,

(Parrot exits)

(Raccoons look at each other.)

Butthead Raccoon

Candy bar? You have more candy bars?

Mother Parrot

Oh yes, I have lots of candy bars.

Butthead Raccoon

So, like, can we have some more?

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, heh heh, like you know we would like a whole bunch of candy!

Mother Parrot

(Laughs and laughs and laughs)

No!

Butthead Raccoon

No? This is like another April Fool thing, isn’t it?

Beavis Raccoon

Yeah, we really get a bunch of candy bars, don’t we?

Mother Parrot

(Laughing)

Nope. April Fools is all over now. Say goodbye!

Raccoons mutter grip and yell as they all disappear.

(Somebody holds up a “THE END” sign)

CENTERING:

From Healing and the Mind by Bill Moyers:

A Story by Rachel Naomi Remen

I bought a little, falling-down cabin on the top of a mountain. It was so bad that when a friend came to see it, he said, ‘Oh, Rachel, you bought this?’ But with two carpenters, an electrician, and a plumber, in three years we have remodeled the whole thing. We started by just throwing things away–bathtubs, light fixtures, windows. I kept hearing my father’s voice saying, ‘That’s a perfectly good light fixture, why are you throwing it away?’ We kept throwing away more and more things, and with everything we threw away, the building became more whole. It had more integrity. Finally, we had thrown away everything that didn’t belong. You know, we may think we need to be more in order to be whole. But in some ways, we need to be less. We need to let go, to throw away everything that isn’t us in order to be more whole.

Healing may not be so much about getting better, as about letting go of everything that isn’t you–all the expectations, all of the beliefs–and becoming who you are. Not a better you, but a more real you.

SERMON: “It Ain’t Necessarily So”

(It ain’t necessarily so, it ain’t necessarily so; the things that you’re liable to read in the Bible, it ain’t necessarily so, etc.)

April Fools’ Day demands some foolishness and some seriousness, and I think they should be mixed in unpredictable ways.

As a student of religion, I agree with almost every word in that Gershwin song from 1935. But the orthodoxy I want to challenge today isn’t from the Bible.

Most of the time, people expect their religions to keep them content and happy rather than awake and concerned. Nobody comes to church hoping they will feel worse for the trip. But like the little poem on the cover of your order of service by Danish poet Piet Hein, I want to mix fun and earnestness today. (“The Eternal Twins”: “Taking fun as simply fun/ and earnestness in earnest; shows how thoroughly thou/ none of the two discernest.”)

I want to think about one of the oldest pronouncements of religion, which is that the love of money is the root of all evil. I think that’s far too simple: evil has a whole lot of roots, though the love of money is certainly one of them. This isn’t saying that money is bad, or that it isn’t good to have it. It just says that it’s seductive, that we’re easily seduced, and that if we make the mistake of falling in love with money rather than people, the effect on us and on our world may be deadly.

Take the trillion-dollar drug business. Whether you are in favor of legalizing all drugs or not, it is clear that the business wouldn’t be so big if it weren’t so profitable.

Or take pornography, which is now a $10 billion-a-year business in this country. It’s routinely attacked by conservatives as though it were a liberal demon. But when there’s that much money to be made, you should expect big businesses to be getting in on it, and they are. The New York Times recently revealed that General Motors now makes $200 million a year from pay-per-view sex films aired through its DirectTV subsidiary. That’s more money than Hustler magazine’s Larry Flynt makes on graphic sex movies. (Hightower Lowdown, 2-2-2001)

Another big profitable company, AT&T, outsells Playboy in the sex business, offering a hardcore sex channel called Hot Network that reaches 16 million homes on cable TV, plus selling pay-per-view sex in a million hotel rooms. “Revenue-wise,” says an official with AT&T’s cable channel, “it’s one of our biggest moneymakers.”

That’s an astonishing statement: “Revenue-wise, it’s one of our biggest moneymakers.” And the unspoken ending to the sentence is “Therefore, it’s a defensible activity for a reputable business.”

Please understand that I’m not bashing the rich. I don’t think poor people are any more or less moral than rich people. Given the same temptations the majority of us would act the same.

But if the love of money really is one of the roots of evil, then nobody who falls in love with it is likely to be immune.

Those stories of General Motors and AT&T embracing pornography as good business raises the question of just how far we will go. How many people are we willing to sacrifice, given the temptation of enough power, profit and privilege? It’s a sobering question. And it is a huge area. Originally, I had intended just to talk about economics, in a kind of sequel to the sermon I gave here last fall on “The Dark God of Capitalism.”

But I got sidetracked by Bill Moyers’ two-hour PBS television program this past Monday (March 26, 2001). It was called “Trade Secrets,” and was about the rules that have governed some significant areas of the chemical industries for a long time. I want to use some of that material to sketch a broad picture. Then I’ll go into much more detail on just one story that he didn’t mention, one tragic story that has been unfolding for decades, and which has probably touched almost everyone in this room. And then, as in any good sermon, I’ll relate everything back to this morning’s puppet show.

The documentation for Moyers’ program was several million pages of private letters and inter-company memos obtained from the major chemical manufacturing corporations. Some documents go back over forty years. While there is room for differences of opinion on some parts, other parts seem unambiguous.

I hope many of you saw the program. While I took a lot of notes, it was much too detailed to repeat here, and would take too long. It was a story, documented by the actual confidential memos of some giant chemical corporations like B.F. Goodrich, Dow Chemical, Union Carbide and Esso, of the wholesale betrayal of both employees and citizens. It showed that the companies have known, as far back as the 1950s, that some of their most profitable chemicals were toxic, caused cancer, dissolved bones, sterilized and killed people. They acknowledged this in private letters to each other, as they also insisted that they must all agree to keep this secret from their employees, the government and the general public. 1

One of the chemicals was vinyl chloride, the key ingredient in PVCs, which you may remember from the news stories about them not too many years ago. B.F. Goodrich knew as far back as 1959 that they were toxic and posed serious health risks to their employees, which they did. In 1966, they wrote to Monsanto, Union Carbide and others that exposure to vinyl chlorides could cause bones to dissolve. Their advisors suggested reducing it to less than 50 parts per million – though concentrations in their factories were five to ten times that high. But they never published the warnings, and continued to tell their own employees that vinyl chloride was harmless.

In 1973 Union Carbide acknowledged in private memos to the others that the companies’ secret actions in these areas could be seen as criminal conspiracy. Nevertheless, they continued to cover up and lie to employees about the deadly concentrations of vinyl chlorides in which their employees were working.

Another infamous chemical was benzene. As early as 1958, it was identified as toxic by Esso and other companies. It was linked to leukemia, and they wrote that it was so toxic that only a level of zero was safe. Also in 1958, Dow Chemical knew that Benzene’s active ingredient could cause sterility in men, and concealed this from their workers, who experienced exceptionally high rates of sterility – and which the company insisted were not work-related.

As the threat of government regulation gained force in the 1970s, the chemical companies wrote more secret memos to each other trying to find or invent a way to get more money, so they could have more political influence – or, to put it less romantically, so they could buy more politicians. Finally, before the 1980 election PACs were created as a way of pooling money to buy greater access and influence in politics. They have been spectacularly successful. In his first month in office, Ronald Reagan delayed all EPA regulations of the chemical industry until the EPA could prove their claims conclusively. The rest, you could say, is history. Many of the toxic chemicals are still unregulated.

As part of the program, Bill Moyers had samples of his own blood taken and tested. The tests showed that he had 84 foreign chemicals in his blood, including more than 15 in the dioxin family, and more than thirty in the vinyl chloride group. It’s a good bet that we do too.

These chemicals have been known to be toxic for decades, during which time the company memos show they have conspired to keep this secret from their own workers and the country as a whole. For the record, these are also the companies who own the patents and are doing the work on genetically engineered foods, introducing mutant genes and invented chemical combinations into us at every meal. These artificial products haven’t been well tested because they can’t be well tested. The slow processes of evolution have not prepared any life form on earth to deal with these new chemical inventions. So there is no way – and probably can be no way — to predict what their medium or long-term effects will be. They are, however, profitable.

What will the costs be? We don’t know. But already, brain cancer in children is up by 26%, and there is over a 60% increase in testicular cancer in young men from the profitable chemicals that are already in us.

At the end of Bill Moyers’ program, an executive representing the Chemical Manufacturers’ Association, while evading almost all questions, kept saying, “We’re a science-based industry.” No, that’s not right. Chemical companies use science as an essential part of their business. But science doesn’t drive the business or tell them to mislead their employees and the general public. They’re a profit-based industry. It’s not clear that they could survive if they weren’t. Their history shows that it is profits, not science, that steer their decisions.

I have a personal story about this difference and the difference it can make. Sixteen years ago, while I was writing my dissertation, I was offered a job as a staff chaplain at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, a huge hospital in downtown Chicago. The hospital had just been restructured to respond to what the insurance industry called DRGs, or Diagnostically-Related Groupings. The length of time the insurance companies would now reimburse the hospital for any patient’s stay was now determined not by the attending physician, but by a chart allocating a certain number of days for almost every imaginable sickness or surgery. Coincidentally, very few patients stayed longer than their insurance would cover. (To add some balance, the DRG system was the idea of Medicaid, an effort to curb excessive spending by hospitals, and patient stays that were longer than proper medical care warranted.)

My boss, who had been the head of the chaplaincy program there for about fifteen years, was struggling to understand what this change meant. The hospital’s board had been changed from doctors to MBAs and accountants, and each time he returned from a board meeting he seemed more confused. “Something fundamental has changed here,” he would say, “and I can’t see what it is.” After two or three months, he did see it, and he taught me a lesson I’ve never forgotten.

Both the quality and the cost of patient care had always been central concerns of the hospital, and the same language was still being used, about quality and cost of care. But formerly, they used to say “We try to make medical care as cheap as possible, considering our primary commitment to the quality of patient care.” Now, while using the same words, the formula had been reversed. Now they were trying to provide the best medical care they could, considering their primary commitment to profitability.

That’s what the chemical companies were saying in the memos exposed in Bill Moyers’ television program. They cared about public safety, and about profits. But they cared more about profits than about public safety, and quietly sanctioned the disease and death of tens or hundreds of thousands of their employees and their fellow citizens over several decades because, revenue-wise, it was a big money-maker.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

This may be hard to believe. It is certainly disheartening to believe. But to see both the horror and the cynicism that are represented by letting concerns for profits rather than people govern a country, as I think they are in fact governing our country now, I want to tell you in some detail about something that has become an annual national tradition. You’ve all heard of it, it is called Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Last October was the fifteenth, the sixteenth annual BCAM is coming up in six more months.

National Breast Cancer Awareness Month’s core message is the importance of early detection, with a special emphasis on regular mammography exams. It also carries the subtle implication that breast cancer is just something that’s somehow just “out there,” without any specific cause, and that if women get it, it’s partly because they didn’t take adequate care of themselves. How on earth can we go through sixteen years of concern about a killer like breast cancer without ever once raising the question of its possible or likely causes?

Imagine how different this story would sound if we learned, instead, that breast cancer had been linked to some chemicals commonly found in pesticides and other chemicals produced and marketed by a giant international chemical conglomerate by the name of Imperial Chemical Industries. It’s true, and Breast Cancer Awareness Month was invented by AstraZeneka, one of the subsidiary companies in the conglomerate that produced the cancer-causing chemical.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month was not devised as a public service but as the kind of “misdirection” that magicians do to distract you from the real trickery. AstraZeneka has always been the primary sponsor of this program, and has final control over all promotional and informational copy published in connection with Breast Cancer Awareness Month. As a result, no mention has ever been made of some of the known causes of this murderous disease. AstraZeneka is no longer under the giant ICI firm. But it now produces and distributes another controversial chemical called tamofixin, which has been approved to reduce the risk of contracting cancer in women with a high risk of breast cancer. So it still wants to be associated in the public eye with efforts to address breast cancer, though not with discussing the causes of the cancer.

The official story, celebrated every October, is that we are all blessed by better living through chemistry, and the chemical companies are our life-saving friends in a naturally hostile world.

But there is another way of seeing it. That is that the world is not naturally hostile. It was made hostile and deadly by the very chemicals that this and other companies are polluting us with, knowing full well their murderous effects, knowing they also make a good profit. And, as General Motors and AT&T have done with pornography, when these companies come to a fork in the road where profits go one way and concern for people go the other way, they seem to follow the profits, and create a cynical and intentionally misleading Breast Cancer Awareness Month to hide the evidence that all these women are being killed not by nature, but – at least in part — by them.

In this country, about 40,000 women will die of breast cancer this year. The disease has skyrocketed over the past 40 years. In that time, more American women have died of breast cancer than the total of all American soldiers killed in all the wars of the 20th century combined. If there is a more cynical story around, a story continually showing brutally how greed kills when profits are elevated over people, I don’t know what it is.

Now we have a new president in our country, and every member of his cabinet comes with longstanding and powerful ties to the biggest and most powerful corporations in America. I won’t read you the whole list here, though I’ll put it in the version of this sermon that is posted on the church website and printed in hard copies. But twelve of President Bush’s cabinet members came from, have strong ties to, or will return to, virtually every major corporation in the country. And both the President and Vice President come from and represent the oil industry.

Some people who claim to be knowledgeable claim that the corporate control of our national government has never been this complete. I don’t know. But if programs like Bill Moyers’ expose of the chemical industry and the sad, cynical story of the real origin and purpose of Breast Cancer Awareness Month are fair indications of what lies ahead, we may be entering a chapter in this country’s history that we will look back on in shame. Many European countries already see it that way.

The most fundamental power that rulers can have is the power to write the story within which we agree to live. Those who control a society’s story are its invisible puppeteers.

The mother in this morning’s puppet show was an April Fools’ joke. There is no mother to keep the rules fair. There’s just us. I think that enough rules are out of control that we are on the verge of losing our health, our safety, perhaps our country.

I think that at least some of what I’ve said here has been persuasive for some of you. You are the brightest and most creative group of people with whom I’ve ever had the privilege of working. I wonder if there isn’t something that we can do in this area to make a positive difference in the lives of ourselves, our children and the larger community? I can’t organize anything, but if there are those here who feel drawn to these issues and have some organizational skills, I will do what I can to help you. There must be many ways in which we can begin to make a positive difference. I don’t know what they are. But I keep thinking of that puppet show. Those raccoons and the parrot – they were just puppets. We’re not.

—————

Addenda:

Here is a partial list of President Bush’s Cabinet members and their corporate connections, taken from Jim Hightower’s newsletter The Hightower Lowdown. I’m repeating most of this from a column by Molly Ivins where she quoted Hightower:

Elaine Chao – Bank of America, Dole Foods, Northwest Airlines, Columbia/HCA Health Care

Norman Mineta – was a top Washington lobbyist for Lockheed Martin before joining the corporate cabinet as Transportation secretary.

Gale Norton – Amoco, Chevron, Exxon, Ford, and Phillips 66, all funders of the Mountain States Legal Foundation from whence she came. She also chaired the Republican Environmental Advocates, funded by American Forest & Paper Association, Amoco, ARCO, the Chemical Manufacturers Association, and Ford.

Paul O’Neill – Alcoa, International Paper Company, Eastman Kodak, and Lucent Technologies.

Anthony Principi – QTC Medical Services, Lockheed Martin Integrated Systems, and Federal Network.

Donald Rumsfeld – General Instrument Corporation, G.D. Searle & Co., Asea Brown Bavari, the Tribune Company, Gilead Sciences, Ind., RAND Corporation, Salomon Smith Barney.

Colin Powell – America Online and General Dynamics, plus a very long list of corporations that paid $100,000 per speech.

G.W. Bush, Dick Cheney, & Commerce Secretary Donald Evans – all Texas oilmen representing the oil industry.

John Ashcroft – Particularly close to the Schering-Plough pharmaceutical company and was heavily funded by BP Amoco, Exxon, Monsanto, Occidental Petroleum, Union Carbide, and Weyerhauser.

Spencer Abraham – Energy Secretary, sponsored a bill to abolish the Energy Department and led the fight in the Senate to defeat greater fuel efficiency for SUVs, a cause dear to both auto and energy industries.

Ron Paige – Education Secretary, is an enthusiastic corporatizer of the public schools. While he was superintendent in Houston, he privatized food services, payrool, and accounting, signed a contract with Coca-Cola to put Coke bottles in the halls, and with Primedia Corporation to broadcast Channel One in the public schools.

Ann Veneman – Agriculture Secretary, was on the board of Calgene, Inc., which produces genetically altered food, and was connected with an agribusiness front group funded by Monsanto, Cargill, Archer Daniels Midland, Kraft, and Nestle.

Beliefs – Part 5: American Spirituality

Davidson Loehr

March 25, 2001

The text of this sermon is unavailable but you can listen to the sermon by clicking the play button.

This is the fifth in a series that I have been doing on different approaches to belief. Even though it would be easy to do a hundred sermons on the different approaches to religious experience this will do it for this year. So far I talked about religious experience talked about through “God Language”, expressed through rational or scientific language, or in mystical styles. Last week I talked about reclaiming some the the feminine symbols and life. These are four different directions and I know people who think they are mutually incompatible….

The Return of Lilith

© Davidson Loehr

March 18, 2001

First UU Church of Austin

4700 Grover Ave., Austin, TX 78756

www.austinuu.org

SERMON: The Return of Lilith

In the musical “My Fair Lady,” Professor Henry Higgins asks his famous question “Why can’t a woman be more like a man?” In Western religions of the past 40 years, a lot of male priests and theologians have been asking the same question.

I want to review some of the reasons with you this morning, because they aren’t hard to find, and they’re too important to forget.

In the Hebrew scriptures, there are more cases than you want to count where Moses or another commander tells his soldiers, after another battle, to kill all the enemy men and children, but that they can keep all the virgins for themselves, as spoils of war. (Numbers 31:15-18, e.g.)

In the book of Leviticus (27:2-4) the worth of women was 3/5 that of a man. Two hundred years ago in the Constitution of our own country, slaves were also valued at 3/5 of a free man – using, I assume, the same biblical proof-text. And I don’t know the current figures, but a few years ago I read that a woman in this country was still being paid about 60%, or 3/5, of what a man was paid in our country for doing comparable work.

In the Bible, the penalty for adultery was death for both the woman and her lover, because of their insult to the husband and defilement of his property. The notion of adultery by men, however, does not appear, unless the woman involved is married (and the man wasn’t a king – remember that King David sent his field General Uriah into the front of a dangerous battle to be killed, because David lusted after Uriah’s wife Bathsheba). Women may not commit adultery because they are the property of men; men, as the property owners, can do pretty much as they like.

It didn’t get much better in Christianity where men, but not women, were still considered the spitting image of God. For example – in a writer almost no feminist ever quotes – Saint Paul wrote, “A man shouldn’t cover his head, because he is the image and glory of God: but the woman is the glory of the man. For the man was not born of the woman; but the woman born of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man.” (I Corinthians 11:3-8, emphasis added) You may wonder where Paul learned about human birth. He learned it in the book of Genesis in the Bible.

Paul also wrote, “Women should keep silence in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be subordinate, as even the law says. If there is anything they want to know, let them ask their husbands at home. For it is shameful for a woman to speak in church.” (I Corinthians 14:34-36)

-In the bible, as in soap operas, women’s concerns center almost exclusively on childbearing and on her relationships with men.- (Roslyn Lacks, Women and Judaism, Doubleday & Co., 1980, p. 88)

-Biblical women appear only when they enter men’s perception – as mothers, wives, or harlots. . . The birth and childhood of daughters [in the Bible] goes unrecorded.- (Lacks, 89)

Or, for some trivia you might not have known, compare the vows taken by Catholic nuns and priests. Did you know that they take different vows? The nuns take vows of chastity; the priests take vows of celibacy. You may think those words mean the same thing, but they do not. Vows of chastity mean the nuns will not have sex; vows of celibacy mean the priests will not marry.

This isn’t just about Judaism and Christianity, unfortunately. About a decade ago I attended annual three-day reports from a sexier study called The Fundamentalism Project, undertaken by the University of Chicago Divinity School through a huge Mac Arthur grant. Over 150 scholars wrote papers on fundamentalisms from all over the world, and presented abstracts of their work in these annual public reports. The sobering, depressing, revelatory (pick your adjective) news was that the social, political and behavioral agendas of all fundamentalists are almost identical, regardless of religion or culture. It is fundamentally about patriarchal rule, and the place of women.

Sometimes the bias comes out more brutally than others. In Islam, for example, the woman sells the unlimited right to her sexual services to her husband as part of the wedding ceremony. As an Islamic anthropologist from Harvard (Shahla Haeri) put it, the moment the woman agrees to a marriage she relinquishes all autonomy within the marriage. He gets her for sex, any time and any way he wishes. Technically, she may not even leave the house without her husband’s permission. An autonomous woman is seen as a threat to both religion and society, and a blasphemy against Allah; and there are, of course, many passages from scripture to support this.

At their most literal and militaristic level in the religions that grew out of the Bible – Judaism, Christianity and Islam – it is always about the rule of men, no matter how disingenuously it may be worded. Women’s rights to work and to be educated are eroded in all Western fundamentalist cultures. As a social anthropologist from Harvard (Andrea Rugh) put it, -religious piety can replace education for women, as a cheaper form of hope.- (Personal notes.)

This isn’t just about Western religions, either. The Buddha fought against allowing women into the religion. And when he was finally convinced to allow orders of nuns to begin, he made it clear that the most senior nun would always be inferior to the most junior monk. And some Hindu men still burn their wives alive because their dowry wasn’t big enough. You never hear of these things happening the other way around, do you?

Why can’t a woman be more like a man? Because most religions are primarily men’s clubs in which women are second-class humans. (Think about it. When you read a story in any religious scripture about a male God ordering women to be obedient, who do you think wrote that story?)

There are many sad corollaries to this. I’ve been using the old Hindu picture of the human condition as a bunch of blind people around an elephant, where each one can only know what they can touch. From women’s perspectives, this has made much of history seem like the elephant was mostly sharp tusks and stomping feet.

This is why a feminist theologian writes that the character of Vito Corleone in “The Godfather” is a vivid illustration of the marriage of tenderness and violence woven together in the Biblical picture of God. (Daly, Beyond God the Father, p. 16) And “if God is male,- as Catholic theologian Mary Daly put it, – then the male is God.” (Daly, p. 19) It may be the biggest single reason that few major feminists have much interest in institutional religion. (Daly, p. 18)

Some of the other sad corollaries to the political and behavioral agendas of all fundamentalisms open into the subject of women as scapegoats, the long history of the persecution of women as witches, which arose directly from the bible and with direct support from the churches, both Catholic and Protestant.

I won’t go into all of these bloody chapters this morning, except to remind us that in eight of the 13 original colonies witchcraft was a capital offense, and that poor or helpless women are still vulnerable to the charge. In 1976, for example, a woman named Elizabeth Hahn was assaulted in Germany. She was described as “a poor old spinster” who was suspected of being a witch and keeping familiars in the form of dogs. Her neighbors shunned her, threw rocks at her, threatened to beat her to death, and eventually set fire to her house, badly burning her and killing all of her pets because they thought she was casting hexes on them. And in 1981 a Mexican mob stoned a woman to death after her husband accused her of using witchcraft to incite the attack that took place on the life of Pope John Paul II. (Brian P. Levack, The Witch Hunt in Early Modern Europe, [London: Longman Group UK Limited, 1987], p. 229) These are isolated examples of a deadly kind of scapegoating that has been present in Christianity for over 500 years.

I keep asking, “Why can’t a woman be more like a man?” because in Western religions the question is so obviously ridiculous. If the churches, synagogues and mosques had singled out men for the kind of mindless hatred it has vented on women, there would not be a single church, synagogue or mosque left standing today. The men would have destroyed them.

One of the most revealing ironies in the history of religions is that almost all of the great sages of our history have taught what are easy to recognize as feminine values:

— Confucius taught that social harmony comes through learning the art of living graciously and generously with others.

— Lao Tzu said The Way was one of an interlocking balance of the masculine and feminine forces of the universe.

— The Buddha taught people not to seek their comfort in the illusion of supernatural beliefs, but to wake up, trust life and relax into it.

— Socrates taught that honest ignorance is nobler than arrogant ignorance.

— Jesus said the kingdom of God doesn’t come with swords, but through loving your neighbor.

In any chart of masculine and feminine values, the values of the great sages of religion and philosophy have been decidedly on the “feminine” side. They are where we look when we need wisdom. They are the perspectives on life that define wisdom.

I can’t think of a government or an army that has ever taught these values. But most women have, from ancient Greeks like Sappho; medieval Christian nuns like Hildegard of Bingen and Theresa of Avila to the symbols and rituals of inclusion in modern Wiccan ceremonies. They are also the values of virtually every peace movement and every environmental movement.

Of the different styles of women’s spirituality that have grown up in the past few decades, the Wiccan movement is probably the best known. The Wiccan group in Texas, known as the Tejas Web, is the second largest in the country, with over three thousand people involved. It is mostly women, though not only women.

The first Wiccan service I attended, nearly twenty years ago, reminded me of a Roman Catholic service, with the robes, candles and heavy use of rituals. And in the few Wiccan groups I’ve known or known of, the overwhelming majority of the women come from Roman Catholic backgrounds. In one small Unitarian church in Indiana, there were 31 women in the Wiccan group, and all 31 had been raised Roman Catholic, leaving the church because they couldn’t find a place for themselves in it.

Some have compared the women of the past century who have protested against the deep holes in Christianity as the “canaries in the coal mines” – the birds that reacted to poison in the air before the miners could sense it. I’m sure some women identify with that.

I think of the women who broke away from Christian, Jewish or Islamic orthodoxy more like the sailors of the 15th and 16th centuries who sailed off the maps of the known world because they thought there had to be more to the world than that. The women I’ve read or known who are actively involved in spiritual quests are searching for what Joseph Campbell once called “The Lost Atlantis of the coordinated soul.” And orthodox Western religions have left out too many parts of life, too many of the dynamic and sacred forces, for us to find coordinated souls within the narrow boundaries of prescribed beliefs.

Imagine being a woman! Well ok, most of you don’t have to imagine being a woman! But some of us do. So men, imagine being a woman growing up in the dominant religions of Western civilization.

You grow up in a religion whose scriptures teach that women were born from the side of men, rather than everyone being born from, and only from, women, and you have to wonder what kind of world they are describing, and where on earth they learned their biology. You hear a pope say that women can’t be priests because Jesus had no women disciples, and you think, “Well, Jesus didn’t have any Polish disciples either!” Nor did he have any Italian disciples. For that matter, Jesus didn’t have any Christian disciples. He was a Jew, and so were all those who followed him around. But so far, we’ve never had a Jewish pope! What Jesus might have wanted is obviously irrelevant. Eventually you say to yourself that both life and religion have to make more sense than that, or it’s not worth your time.

So if you’re brave, or perhaps just terribly hungry for spiritual food, you set sail, in search of that Lost Atlantis of the coordinated soul.

What the different women’s spirituality movements have found have a lot of family resemblances. They looked for sacred images that honored rather than dishonored women, and found them in the study of ancient nature religions, where the giver of all life was Mother Earth. They looked for a natural reality with cycles, and they found it all around us. I suspect that women are more aware of and sensitive to the cycles of the seasons than men are because they have lived the rhythm of monthly cycles most of their adult lives.

But it’s clear to me that a woman can’t be more like a man because most women I know see both life and religion differently than most men I know do. As women have been entering the ministry during the past thirty years, they have brought very different metaphors than men do. I think men tend to see things logically or functionally, where women tend to see them organically and in relationship.

I have attended a few Wiccan services. They acknowledge the four directions, cast an invisible circle to mark our sacred space. They notice and rejoice in the rhythms of the seasons. The equinoxes and the solstices are celebrated. And when I am there, I know I am at a worship service that came from a different kind of consciousness than mine. It came from a spiritual awareness far more sensitive to nature and our place in it, to the rhythms of nature and the corresponding rhythms of our own lives, and to the never-ending cycles of birth and death of which we are all parts. In many ways, the styles of women’s spirituality are the mirror images, or shadow sides, of most of Western religion. Women theologians, Wiccan leaders like Margot Adler or Starhawk look for and find images of inclusion rather than exclusion. They teach inclusive rituals rather than exclusive creeds, and feature dancing rather than orthodoxies. And when they use arms, they don’t mean weapons. It’s hard for a lot of guys to relate to.

A few months ago I attended a Winter Solstice celebration at this church. It’s an annual event, very popular; it felt like there were 150 people sitting in a great circle in our social hall. People of all ages were there. I saw some very old women dressed up with lights in their hair, evergreens dangling from them. You never see that in church on Sunday. It was fun, but it didn’t feel like a show. It felt like what it was: people participating in a sacred rite of passage, as people have done it for uncounted thousands of years, to move to the slow rhythm of the earth’s changing seasons. We were gathered on the longest night of the year by some women, who led us through the gentle and power filled cycle of death and rebirth. We were mirroring Nature’s death and rebirth at the winter solstice, knowing the sun will return again as it has always returned.

It was one of the loveliest and most genuine religious services I have attended. And as I sat with others in the darkness and silence, dwelling in the death before the gradual return of the light, one of the things I realized was that I could not have led that service. It wouldn’t have worked; I couldn’t have done it. It took a different kind of sensitivity than I have, a different kind of rhythm.

Young girls who were coming of age were recognized and honored. Old women were honored as “Crones” – an old term of respect for the wisdom of the aged – something we have virtually forgotten today. There wasn’t any theology. Just a gentle bringing us all together as children of life, children of the earth, gathered as though we were around an ancient campfire to hear the old story told again, then to stand together, hold hands, and move together – in circles, around and through each other, into the center then back out again, then through another ritual of rebirth, in which we took turns being born and giving birth, being born and giving birth.

This isn’t wisdom that comes from a man’s way of understanding the world. It’s a different, and a feminine, style of spirituality. It’s something both women and men have been missing for a very long time.

Long ago there was a Jewish myth that Eve wasn’t really the first woman. The first woman created for Adam, this story said, was Lilith. She was created as Adam’s equal, and she took it seriously. She wouldn’t defer to him, wouldn’t let him be on top, and when God tried to play marriage counselor, Lilith wouldn’t listen to him either. So she was banished to the footnotes of mythic history, and a slightly more obedient mythic wife was created.

Now Lilith is back. This time, she and Adam have the chance to write the story together, both their parts and the part assigned to God. May we pray that this time we will have both love and luck on our side, so that we may wholeheartedly finish what was once halfheartedly begun.

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Endnotes

First and most importantly, they agree that there must be only one law for all life, both public and private, and that individual rights or the separation of church and state cannot be used to let people stray from the one true religion which, coincidentally, happens to be theirs.

Second, all fundamentalisms are ruled by men, and the roles of women are narrowly defined and strictly controlled. The basic structure of patriarchal authority is paramount, and the dissolution of traditional patriarchal structures is the most important factor in mobilizing fundamentalist movements.

Third, there is a strong family resemblance between fundamentalism and fascism. As one scholar pointed out, the phrase “the overcoming of the modern” was a popular fascist slogan dating back to at least 1941, and which is now resurfacing in most of the fundamentalist movements.

Fourth, history is denied in a radical way. While they are all aware that the modern world, its writings, and its ideals, are strongly influenced by the biases of our culture, they deny that the same was true when their own sacred scriptures were written, and deny any deep historical conditioning of those scriptures at all. Their scriptures are the word of God, pure and uncompromised.

Fifth, fundamentalists want to control the education of children and adults, to insure that the next generation grows up with their view of the world, of religion, and of what is expected of them. They are doing this through setting up their own schools, through influencing textbook publishers and state legislatures to mirror their own agendas, and through some other methods of influencing not only their own educational programs but the general public educational platforms of the general culture.

For copious detail and over a hundred essays on fundamentalisms from all over the world, see The Fundamentalism Project published in five or six large volumes by the University of Chicago Press in the mid-1990s.